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dammn-dean · 1 year ago

Text

Unexpected

Pairing: Simon Riley x Female Reader

Words: 4000

Warnings: Pregnancy, secrets, probably a bit out of character

I wanted to write a pregnant!Reader fic so here we are... I haven't written in a long time and this is my first time writing a COD character! Any and all feedback is welcome 🖤

Shout out to @babygirl-riley for helping me with this. Thank you!

“Simon?” your small voice echoes from the phone.

“Yeah?” He answers, in his typical bored voice.

Only letting the phone ring once before answering. Obviously he wouldn’t have answered if he wasn’t available at the moment, but you never know.

“Are you… busy?”

Your voice is different… raising Simon’s curiosity. He could only think of a handful of times since he met you that you had ever even tried calling him without sending a text first to check if he was in at base or not.

“A little, why?” He doesn’t mean to sound so gruff, but he does. He also wasn’t necessarily busy, but he wasn’t in the mood to chat with you. His day was especially shit today.

“I.. um well,” you hadn’t had time to come up with what to say. “I am sorry for not telling you before now and if you wish that I would have never said anything… well I’m sorry for that too.” Your words were rushed together, barely making any sense.

“Just spit it out will ya?”

You physically flinch from his rashness. Simon wasn’t always this way, but the past few months it seemed he stayed irritated at you. Just the sensitivity of the subject was already difficult enough, paired with his attitude towards you. This was going to be a rough call. “Sorry..” your heart is beating so fast you are wondering if it’s making matters worse, “I just wanted to tell you-“

Pain shoots through you, what once was a small little reminder of the state your body was in began its first real shock of what was happening. You let out a gasp and small noise of discomfort. That made him stand up from the chair he was sitting in and call your name over the phone. You almost missed it, the pain causing the phone to be pulled from your face.

“Love, what is it? Are you hurt?” Simon was actually worried now. Once the pain subsides you huff a small laugh. “Well, kind of yeah but no I’m okay.”

Simon’s brows pulled together at that, he was more confused than ever. Before waiting for a response he snagged his keys from his pants as his legs carried him to the parking lot at base. “Where are you?” He all but growled.

“No, it’s okay, you don’t need to come to me. I’m okay,” you smiled to yourself. You had convinced yourself you could do this alone. Damn your weakness for even calling him to begin with. “I am about to head to the hospital.”

“What do you mean? Tell me where you are… I’m on the way.” You could hear the door to his truck slamming and the engine cutting on.

“You may not want to once I say what I have to say,” you whispered.

“I’m pregnant.”

Simon felt his blood run cold. He didn’t speak, just continued his way out of the base. Brain not keeping up with what was happening.

“I… have been pregnant. And the baby is coming. I- Our baby is coming Simon.” Your eyes squeezed shut with the confession. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears so loud you almost missed his response.

“Where are you?” He actually growled this time.

“The apartment…” you replied meekly.

You could feel another round of contractions starting up. You dropped to the floor and before allowing yourself to scream over the phone you dropped it to your lap, and road out the contraction. Once the pain eased up some you heard your name being repeated from the speaker, his voice urgently asking for a response. You picked back up the phone, “I’m sorry…” you felt tears prickling your vision.

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

You hadn’t meant to keep it a secret. What started as something you happily found out turned into your best kept secret.

It was around the two year mark of you starting this relationship with Simon. You two had met and after many months of being friendly you had fallen for him first… it was quick for you to love him and you had fallen hard. Simon took a little more time to open up and things weren’t always easy, but you loved each other thoroughly.

Simon was gone on a month long mission when you started noticing something was up. You were getting queasy from random things that never had upset your stomach before. That was your first clue to get a test, so without much thought when you ran to the store for some things for dinner after work, you grabbed a pregnancy test. You got home, started working on dinner, making one of Simon’s favorites as a surprise. He was coming back for a short while before heading off for another mission and he was due home any moment. Since he hadn’t made it home yet so you figured you would bring the test into the bathroom and get it over with. Yet 5 minutes later the small white plastic showed you the truth - Positive.

You sat in your apartment’s bathroom, looking at the little plus sign. Mind reeling, a thousands thoughts flying through your head. Were you ready to become a mom? How would Simon take the news? Does he even want to be a dad? How would you balance having a baby with Simon’s work schedule?

He had knocked at the door, shaking you from your thoughts. “You alright love?” He had been in your apartment for about 10 minutes, waiting for you to leave the bathroom attached to the bedroom.

You hadn’t even noticed him coming into the apartment. Without much thought you grabbed the test, tossed it in the bin and quickly washed your hands before opening the door.

You grinned at him, “Yes of course. Sorry!”

Your arms wrapped around him instinctively as a greeting, but his body tensed instead of attempting to hug back like he usually did. You withdrew with a questioning face.

“I missed you,” you tried to adjust your face into a small smile. “Are you okay?” You questioned.

“Yeah.” Was all he offered, then he headed into the bathroom. Your eyes widened and followed his back until he shut door behind him. Definitely must not have been a great day at work. Simon doesn’t tell you much about what he does day to day, but you can’t imagine any of it is easy on him.

So without asking again, or following after him you went back to making dinner. Now your thoughts were muddled of the thoughts of parenthood, and this baby. Your face couldn’t help the small grin that popped up, a hand coming to gently rest on your stomach. By the end of cooking everything and getting plates ready you had decided you would tell Simon after dinner. Sure you only have taken the one pregnancy test, but you wanted to go ahead and give him the news. That’s when you realized he still hasn’t came from the bedroom, that used to be just yours and slowly has turned into both of yours. Now it was your turn to knock on the door to the bathroom.

“Dinner is ready… I made one of your favorites to celebrate you being home.” You couldn’t help the cheerful tone your voice held.

The door ripped open at that. His hair was still wet from his shower, he was dressed down in sweats and a black t-shirt. You smiled at him and reached a small hand out to him.

His eyes met yours for a moment before chancing a quick glance to your outstretched hand. “Not hungry.”

You were usually pretty receptive to his reactions and as much as it confused you, you dropped your hand back down to your side. “Oh okay… well I will put it in the oven to keep warm until you are,” you suggested. Your stomach was rolling, for many reasons. The news of the pregnancy, the actual sickness the pregnancy was bringing you and how Simon was acting had your nerves on edge.

“You go ahead,” his eyes didn’t quite meet yours “The crew and I have a lot to debrief on… we leave on the next mission in a few days. I think I’m going to head back to base for the night,” he bluntly stated. He gently walked past you into the room, collecting items into his duffel bag.

“Well I made dinner especially for you, I hoped we could enjoy it tog-“

“I said I wasn’t hungry.” He didn’t yell, but he definitely spoke louder to you than he typically did.

You couldn’t help the small breath of air you took in, and he rolled his eyes at that. “Please,” he said your name with a sigh. “I am not in the mood for this.”

“Okay,” you whispered. Eyes welling up with tears, but before they could fall in front of him, you turned to head back into the kitchen. You quickly wiped the tears from your eyes before they could fall as you made your way into the kitchen. You grabbed the food you had spent the last hour or so working on and dumped it into the trash. You flung the pot into the sink before reaching for the next dish to toss.

“What are you doing?” Simon grasped your arm before you could throw away the main entrée.

“I’m throwing out the food. What does it look like??” You couldn’t help the angry tone your voice took on. “I made all of this for you. And you don’t want it, so I’m getting rid of it.”

“It’s not that I don’t want it… I just-“

“You aren’t hungry,” You cut him off. “I get it.” Using your free hand to wipe a stray tear that was threatening to fall.

His eyes softened and he released your arm. “I’m sorry… yeah? You know I hate when I get back then immediately have to leave again.” Simon tried to comfort you, but it was too late. “I probably should have just stayed at the base as is… I just have a lot on my plate.”

“Yeah I got it,” you coldly replied as you sat the now cold entrée onto the counter. To know you spent all day thinking of things to make his day back special… and to hear him wish he wouldn’t have even came. Just breaks your will. You then felt tired to your bones, unwilling to argue as you decided to call it a night. As you head to your bedroom, over your shoulder you said “Tell the boys I said hi.”

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That was the last time you had seen Simon in person. A little over 7 months ago since he had stepped foot into your apartment. You had given him the silent treatment for a while. Well, if he would have had access to a phone you would have definitely given him the silent treatment.

He was gone with no way to contact him. Which you didn’t mind, initially. It had been a few weeks since Simon had left and since you found out about the pregnancy. Things were beginning to catch up and take a toll on you. From the physical aspects of being pregnant, to you being lonely with Simon being gone for so long, and work was awful. Your stomach was starting to grow, everyone around you noticing the baby bump but you never acknowledged it. You hadn’t even gotten to break the news to Simon, it didn’t feel fair to talk about the baby to random co-workers. A few doctors appointments had come and gone, confirming the pregnancy. You had decided to not find out the sex of the baby or really even look at the screen during the sonogram appointment. Just letting the doctor check on the baby’s health, that was all that mattered to you.

It’s the middle of the night, your bladder waking you. You got up and made your way to the bathroom to relieve yourself. Once you were back in bed under the covers you felt sleep pulling you back in but before you could fall asleep your phone started to vibrate. Incoming call from an unknown number. Simon

You were thinking about not answering but you decided to pick up the phone anyway.

“Hello…” you answered quietly.

“Sweetheart,” Simon sighs “I’m sorry to be calling you so late. I finally had access to a phone and I, well… missed you.”

Your lip was pulled between your teeth. You were feeling all kinds of emotions. You wanted to still be upset with him, but at this point you couldn’t even feel anything except the loneliness of life without him here.

“I miss you too,” you responded as you adjusted yourself in bed to sit up right.

“Fuck love, missed your voice.” He is talking low, probably just barely out of earshot from the guys. “Hate leaving how I did, and going this long from ya.”

“Was pretty bad Si,” you spoke honestly. “Don’t get me wrong… I know your job is insanely difficult and hard on you. I just wish sometimes you would think about what it does to me too.”

Simon sighs again, “I know… I just… I’m trying.”

And he was trying, he made that obvious to you. His communication was better than it was in the beginning. Simon is a very closed off man, and he has let you in more than he ever told himself he would allow another person in. You just have that way about you, and it drives him crazy in the best way.

“I wish I was calling with better news, it looks like it’ll be a while before I’m able to come back.”

“What is ‘a while’?” You whisper back, suddenly feeling choked up. He had already been gone for longer than usual.

“Price is thinking a couple weeks here, but we have some new intel… may keep us busy for the next couple of months, love.” Simon hated breaking this to you after staying away so long. Being with him was insanely unfair to you, but you had convinced him this was the life you wanted. You wanted him.

“Okay.” You had tears falling freely now. And you brought a hand to rest on your tummy.

“I have something to tell you,” you started.

“Hang on sweetheart.” He interrupted. You heard commotion on the other end of the phone. Then Simon’s voice was back, “I’m sorry, I have to go. When I’m back at base I’ll be able to text ya, yeah?”

“Oh… okay. Yeah.” You gave yourself a sad smile. “I love you. Stay safe.” As much as Simon needed to know about the baby… how wasn’t the time.

“Always.” And with that he hung up.

That was the last time you attempted to bring up the baby to him. You realized that Simon was going through a lot and you just could never figure out the best way to say it.

He did text you here and there, letting you know he was okay. Simon let you know when they were back at base a few days ago, with an excuse as to why he couldn’t come to your apartment. You wish that you could recall the reason, but it just seemed like maybe he didn’t want to come home to you. Simon just hadn’t been able to make the time to come see you… Until now.

Simon stood in the doorway watching your frantic form gather things from around the apartment. Shoving some things into a bag, before disappearing and returning with a baby bag that seemed to be full. That’s when your eyes connected. You felt your eyes well up with tears, oh how you missed him.

“Simon,” your lips trembling with emotion.

He honestly couldn’t place what he was feeling. Seeing you for the first time in months, and here you were, a few feet away with a hand on your pregnant belly… Belly holding /his/ child. A child he would have never known existed if you didn’t bravely call him moments ago. He ripped the balaclava off his head, showing you the true emotion of his face. One of the downsides of always wearing a mask, he can’t regulate his face well.

“Sweetheart,” Simon’s voice was almost unrecognizable. “I’m here… what do you need?”

You let a tear fall down your cheek and smiled. “I’m so happy you’re here.” You took the few steps left between you and reached in to hug him.

Although at the last moment you hesitated, unsure if he wanted the contact. Instead you let your hands awkwardly fall to your sides. Simon had never been so upset with himself. Watching you want nothing more than to hug him but withdrawing from him. You were always overly cautious of his needs, but had he ever shown you the same? You were pregnant with his child, yet you didn’t want to tell him the news, always scared you were a bother to him. Has he made you feel this way? All this time away from you… for what? He could have made the time to check in on you.

“I’m glad I’m here too, love…” his voice held a softness to it only held for you. His hand reaches out to brush softly against your arm. Softening you up to his presence. Unsure of what caused the next words to come out, Simon muttered “May I?” His eyes met yours before he glanced at your stomach.

Your heart was racing, blood pounding in your ears. “Of course Si…” and his hand immediately came to rest on your belly.

You let out a small gasp at the contact. Your hands gravitating to his ungloved hand resting on your protruding stomach. Stopping yourself an inch or two from making contact.

“Can you make me a promise?” Simon spoke softly, eyes meeting yours again.

“Anything, you know that,” you smiled at him.

“When you want to touch me, please just do it. When you want me to touch you, you tell me. If you have something you want to tell me… just say it. But especially when you need or want me here with you… you tell me love.” Simon felt the sensation of being choked up, he only hoped his voice didn’t crack. “I love you and I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you,” he whispered. He kept one hand on your stomach while the other came to grasp your face. “I am so sorry.”

You couldn’t even try to stop the tears from falling now. “It’s okay Simon… I am so glad you are here no-“ another contraction began. You grit your teeth, trying to remember the breathing you had practiced, but the pain was still there.

This is probably the biggest thing that Simon was not prepared for. Had he spent his life inflicting pain upon others? When needed, yes. How many people had he seen in distress and never felt one thing about it? Basically every time. Yet here he was watching you writhe in pain, wasn’t something he handled well.

“Jesus Christ…” he grasped onto you. Keeping you upright. “Let’s get to the hospital, yeah?”

You didn’t put up a fight, letting him help you to his truck. Before he could open the door you stopped him.

“What’s the matter?” He asked worriedly. “We can’t…” you took a deep breath before continuing. “We can’t drive the baby back in your truck. The car seat is in my car.” You avoided his eyes.

Simon felt a pang of something up his spine, similar to jealousy but close to disappointment in himself. You were completely and wholly ready to have this baby without him. He felt a huge sense of pride in you and your independence but he was also upset at himself for making you do all of this alone.

“Alright yeah, makes sense,” he kept his voice calm. Leading you to your car, asking for keys and guiding you in gently to the passenger side.

“I’m going to run backup for your things lovie… I’ll be back in a minute.” With that he was off and Simon was back in under the minute. Bags in hand, tossing them in the backseat before heading to the closest hospital.

Simon is as silent as ever. He was doing his best to drive safe, but he also had a huge sense of urgency to him. His mind couldn’t slow down and allow him to catch up with what was happening. Thoughts clouding his mind and taking up all his capacity to think.

“I’m sorry..” you started again. Breaking him of his thoughts. God how long had he been silent? “I know you’re busy and I ha-“

“Stop,” he said with a sigh.

Your eyes cut to him quickly, before returning to your lap.

“Please stop saying sorry to me,” eyes cutting to you. “I am the one who is sorry and who should be begging for your forgiveness. I can’t believe I haven’t made you understand what you are to me. I’m not upset about you not telling me, sweetheart. I’m just sad you have been through all of this alone.” He let out a dry chuckle. His hand reached out for your stomach again. “I have done nothing in this life to deserve you.” He let out a wet chuckle, “but fuck… am I glad you’re mine.”

You grinned between the tears. Your hand covered his easily now, without hesitation. The feeling of his warm hand softly brushing your stomach was something you had been longing for. “You deserve more than me, but I’m glad I’m yours too.” You let out a small wink when his eyes let yours briefly before they were back on the road in front of him.

You felt another surge of pain shooting through you. The contractions n were definitely getting more frequent. You started your breathing again, this time squeezing his hand to help take your mind off it. Once the pain subsided some you could hear Simon’s voice sweetly talking you through it.

After a couple breaths, you steadied yourself. “I found out I was pregnant the day you left, ya know… before.” You admitted. You heard his big inhale at the confession.

“The night with the… dinner?” You aren’t sure why you felt the need to clarify. It could have been a big moment to you and not to him, you suppose.

“Fuckin’ hell baby…” Simon sighed.

“I just wasn’t sure where we stood,” you gulped. “I couldn’t tell how you were feeling and I honestly don’t even know if you like kids.” You let out a dry laugh. “I had this whole plan, god it was a halfway thought out plan. We would eat dinner, celebrate you being home and I would tell you the news.” You hadn’t let go of his hand even as it fell to your lap. “But with the way everything happened I just didn’t know what to do or how to tell you… so I didn’t.” You finished with a shrug.

“I like kids,” he admitted. “In case you’re still wondering.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him for what felt like the 20th time since he arrived at your apartment.

“As for the rest… I don’t know how to explain how I behaved that night. Of course if I knew… I wouldn’t have acted like that. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. Fuck what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I’m glad you like kids.”

“Changing the subject, yeah?” You can hear his grin.

You turned a little to look at him better. “We will get through this. Will probably have to have a few talks about everything but for now. Let’s get this baby out of me.”

You can see the lights of the hospital casting over his features as he pulls into the emergency lane. With one deep breath that you two seemed to share, “It’s go time Si.”

I hope you all enjoyed this! If you would like a part 2 of the hospital and then the aftermath... feel free to let me know in a comment!

Thank you for reading 🖤

Part Two

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #reader insert #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #call of duty #pregnant reader #dad!simon

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dearlyjun · 1 year ago

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— study date 𖤐 choi beomgyu

summary: you and your boyfriend have a homework date to spend time together, but he can’t keep his hands to himself.

pairing: nonidol!/collegeboyfriend!beomgyu x afab!reader

genre: college students au, smut (18+ readers only pls!!)

word count: 1.5k

warnings: beomgyu is very sweet, use of pet names, lots of touching, whimpering, whining, fingering, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex (umm don’t do this), beomgyu is kind of a menace, swearing, beomgyu hits it from the back lolll, cumshot lol, some kissing but not much surprisingly? oh and glasses beomgyu!!! think that is all.

authors note: I have been having insufferable beomgyu brain rot and I blacked out and wrote this. not proofread because I’m lazy so if you see a mistake no you don’t. I made the reader a stem girly because well, if I do anything it’s gonna be representing my fellow stem girls!! blueprints are kind of boring…

quick links: taglist | masterlist

—

“are you comfortable?” beomgyu sweetly asked you, whilst typing on his computer.

“Mhm.” You hummed, glancing at the time in the bottom right corner of his screen. 10:40pm. “I’m almost finished.”

Both of you were doing homework. Beomgyu typing an essay on his computer, while you were studying blueprints. You were sitting on his lap to keep him company, and you just wanted to be near him. Sometimes with your busy school schedules this was the only time you got to be together; both enjoying each others company while working on assignments.

He reached down, giving your bare thigh a squeeze. It slightly startled you. You placed your hand over his, making him smirk to himself before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Gyu it’s getting late.” You hoped you could get him to save his file and be done. “Don’t you have an early class tomorrow?”

“No, remember sweetheart?” His voice was right in your ear, making you shift in his lap. “My professor is on vacation. So my class isn’t mandatory tomorrow. I might not even go.”

Beomgyu reached for something on his desk, putting his arm around your waist; his palm landing near your rib cage. His hand placement made you very aware that underneath your loose t shirt, you weren’t wearing a bra.

You looked down at your homework, twirling your pencil and your mind now wandering. Thinking about all of the things that Beomgyu would be doing with his mouth and tongue against your skin. His keyboard clicks were white noise until he cleared his throat, pulling you from your trance.

“Something on your mind?” Beomgyu sweetly kissed you by your ear, shifting in his chair slightly.

“No, just doing math in my head.” You joked, trying to play it off that you actually were doing that.

“Math?” Beomgyu laughed, one of his hands finding purchase on your inner thigh. He knew what he was doing. Damn him. “What kind of math?”

You didn’t really have an answer for him. “Trying to figure out how much time I have left to study for this test.”

“When is it?” Beomgyu asked as his other hand slipped the slightest bit underneath your shirt.

“Next week. Like Wednesday I think?” You desperately tried to ignore him.

There was a moment of silence before Beomgyu leaned close to you, brushing your hair away from your face.

“How long is it going to take for you to tell me what’s really on your mind, hm?”

If it wasn’t for Beomgyu’s hold on you, you swore you could have fallen onto the floor.

“Beomgyu.” Your voice came out whinier than you wanted it to.

“That’s a start.” Beomgyu chuckled to himself, smirking as he kissed behind your ear a few times. “Go on.”

You leaned into him; your back against his chest. “I want you to touch me. Fuck me. Do whatever you want to me.”

You felt Beomgyu suck in a harsh breath. “Such nasty things coming from your mouth. Take your pants off.”

He was referring to your black sweatshorts, which you gladly let fall to the ground.

You were back in his lap, back against his chest like before. Beomgyu quickly saved his paper on his computer, then clicked out of it. He leaned back in his chair, then changed your position on his lap so your legs were open.

You knew you were almost embarrassingly wet for absolutely no reason at all, feeling your arousal close to your inner thighs.

Beomgyu reached down, brushing over your clit through your cotton panties. Your body shuddered. You had no idea you would be this sensitive already.

“So sensitive for me and I haven’t done anything yet.” Beomgyu spoke, his voice low and deep. “Needy for me. I like it.”

He slipped his hand into your panties, dipping his fingertips into your folds. You were soaked; you could hear it already.

You leaned your head back against Beomgyu, letting out a quiet whine.

“Fuuuuuck.” Beomgyu swore, drawing out the words. “You’re soaked. Oh my god.”

“Please. Please. Please.” You reached one of your hands behind his neck, pulling him closer to kiss him.

Your pleading went straight to his ego, as if it needed a boost.

“Please?” Beomgyu didn’t break eye contact with you. He removed his hand from inside your panties, pulling the fabric away and making you feel a rush of cool air along with hearing what could only be the elastic ripping. “My smart girl can’t form a full sentence?”

You knew what he was doing. He would always give into you, but you had to work for it first.

His fingers circled your clit slowly, then he gave a few firm taps. You squeezed your eyes shut, whining again.

“Hey, hey look at me.” Beomgyu’s voice had a sweetness to it, and you looked at him.

“Don’t tease me, please.” You were surprised that you were able to get the words out. “God, I’m gonna cry.”

Beomgyu smirked, kissing you on the neck near your jaw as his fingers circled your clit again. “I’ll make you feel good, baby. Don’t worry.”

Finally, Beomgyu slipped his middle and ring finger past your folds and into your cunt, pressing your walls hard.

You let out a rather loud moan, grabbing onto his arm as well as the desk chair you were both in.

“Yeah. Feels good doesn’t it?” Beomgyu mumbled, slipping a third finger inside of you. You wanted to scream. Of course it felt good.

“Yes. Fuck. Oh god, yes.” You finished the sentence with a whimper, biting down onto your lip. Your walls were clenching his fingers already and he has just started.

“Fuck. My girl is clenching my fingers already.” Beomgyu swore, smirking. He quickly pulled his fingers out, sloppily rubbing your clit a few times before fucking them into you again. “Can I make you cum just from this?”

Stupid question, because as much as you wanted to prove him wrong, you were so close.

You nodded, tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

Beomgyu was so ready to make you cum on his fingers, until he changed his mind.

“Nah. Changed my mind. You’re gonna cum on my cock instead. Get up.”

Beomgyu pulled away from you, helping you to your feet in front of him. He removed his cardigan sweater, and quickly took his glasses off.

“Bend over the desk for me.” Beomgyu instructed you, pushing away his chair to give him more room before lowering his sweatpants and underwear.

You did as he said, moving your homework out of the way and leaned over the desk. You felt Beomgyu’s fingers move the fabric of your underwear out of the way again.

Then, you felt him align the head of his cock with your entrance, making you suck in a breath.

“Shit, you’re so wet.” Beomgyu gripped your waist with one of his hands, while he used his other hand to guide himself inside of you.

He bottomed out in the first thrust, letting out a sigh of pleasure. Beomgyu barely gave you time to adjust before he formed a rhythm.

“Fuck.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “You’re so fucking–“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence.

“Fuck me, gyu.” You whined, knowing he liked to hear his nickname. “Your cocks so big. Feels so good.”

“Yeah, you like it?” Beomgyu started fucking you harder, making you whimper. “Tell me how much.”

He kicked one of your feet for you to put them apart further. You knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Fuck.” You sounded like you were about to cry, practically laying on top of his desk. “It’s so good. You fuck so good.”

Beomgyu leaned down to you, now hitting deeper with his cock. Your walls clenched him as your legs started to shake.

“My girl’s gonna cum isn’t she?” He brushed away your hair to see your face, practically in tears.

“Uh-huh.”

Beomgyu snaked his hand around to play with your clit, and then it was over.

“Fuck, gyu.” You sobbed, practically trembling beneath him as he continued fucking you through your orgasm; chasing his own.

“Tell me, baby.” Beomgyu’s hips stuttered as your core clenched him as you rode your high. “Gonna cum in your sweet pussy if that’s okay.”

You always said yes, but you found it sweet how Beomgyu always asked for permission first.

“Please, please.” You rutted into him, desperate for it. “Wanna feel you, please.”

Beomgyu combed back his sweaty bangs with one of his hands. “Fuck, I’ll give it to you.”

He let out the hottest moan you’ve ever heard as you felt him finish inside of you; making you bite down onto your bottom lip.

Beomgyu was panting before he pulled away, admiring the mess he’d made of you. He fixed your panties, before turning you around to kiss you sweetly.

“I think we should get back to studying.” Beomgyu said with a smile on his face. “I think someone has some homework she has to finish.”

—

tags: @dearlyjoonie @tyunsrkive @mhasimp666

#choi beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu smut #beomgyu smut #txt smut #txt x reader #tomorrow x together smut

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roosterforme · 2 years ago

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Batting Practice Part 4 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You get a little bit of time alone with Bradley, and now you want him even more. When he asks you about Frank, you realize you need to tie up some loose ends.

Warnings: Fluff, angst and swearing (eventually 18+)

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Everett was beyond excited for his first tee ball game, and he insisted on wearing his jersey to school on Friday. He wanted to wear it to bed on Friday night as well, but you made him change into pajamas.

"What time does my game start?" he asked for the millionth time.

"Sweetie, I already told you. Tomorrow morning at 10:30. And that's why you need to get in bed and get a lot of rest."

After six bedtime stories and a cup of water, he was finally dozing off to sleep, and you were about to check your work email.

But when you looked at your phone, you saw a few texts from your sister and a text from Bradley.

Bradley Bradshaw: I can't wait to see you tomorrow. I'm probably allowed to spend a little extra time with the Team Mom. Maybe you'll keep your Kitten claws tucked away and let me buy you something from the snack bar after the game?

"Oh my god," you whispered as you sat on the edge of your bed. You lay back and literally kicked your feet up in the air as you wrote back to him.

I'll keep my kitten claws away if you buy me an Icee and a soft pretzel.

Then you sat up and gasped before running downstairs to the kitchen. Everett's tee ball schedule was hanging on the refrigerator where you and he could both see it. You took it down, sending a magnet flying in the process. You were right; Monday's practice was dress up day. The kids were supposed to come to practice in costumes, and there was a note encouraging the parents to dress up as well.

With a squeak, you found the magnet and hung the calendar again before running back upstairs to your room.

Bradley Bradshaw: Sounds perfect. And maybe you can fill me in more about what else Kittens like to eat and drink. For future reference.

You buried your face in your pillow to keep from screaming too loud. You felt like you were seventeen again and about to get asked to prom by Kyle Jenkins. Except this was even better.

You sent back a cat emoji before you opened your Amazon app and searched for what you needed for Monday.

You found a cat ear headband and a cat tail to make an adult cat costume. Then you dug around in your closet for something to pair them with. You had black jeans, but couldn't find a suitable top. After a few minutes of searching, you added a black bodysuit to the shopping cart along with some washable face paint. Before you could second guess yourself, you charged everything to your credit card with next day shipping, and started to get ready for bed.

You needed to be well rested for Everett's game. And for the snack bar.

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

Bradley took a quick shower while his coffee brewed. The bathroom was right next to the kitchen and living room, and his bedroom was the only other room. His apartment was kind of small, and he kind of hated it.

Last night, he had spent hours thinking about bringing you back here, but it was so boring and bare, it made it look like he had no personality. Then he started thinking about what your place might look like. Then he started thinking about what your bed might look like. Then he was just imagining you in a nondescript bed with him, and he started touching himself.

He wasn't really surprised. You were such a treat to look at, and he was more attracted to you than he had been to the last dozen women he had hooked up with combined. There was just something about you. The combination of wholesome mom vibes were mixing with the way you responded to him when he called you Kitten. It was a lot for his brain to process how sexy he found those two things when put together.

For a brief moment he thought about masturbating again in the shower, but he didn't have enough time to indulge in that like he really wanted to.

He quickly toweled off and finished getting ready. He sipped his coffee and scrolled through his text messages with you, being extra careful not to spill anything on his white baseball pants.

God, you were so flirtatious. That little kitten emoji threw him last night.

He rubbed a hand across his mouth and mustache and grabbed his gear for the game. He'd never make it through the day if he didn't try to stop thinking about you.

He arrived at the field early and started setting things up with Bob, but he kept glancing around, looking for you. And if Bradley thought you looked good when you came to practice directly from work, that was nothing compared to how you looked today.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned as you made your way across the assigned field with Everett in his blue jersey. Your jeans were tight, and you had them paired with a Padres shirt and cap.

When you looked over at him, you smiled and mouthed, "Hi, coach."

Bradley handed the cones he was holding to Bob and headed directly for you.

"Hey, we still need to mark off the outfield!" Bob called after him, but Bradley didn't pause until he was next to you.

"Kitten," he whispered as you took Everett's cleats out of his bag.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, and Bradley made sure you could tell he was checking you out.

"Coach," you whispered back just as Everett launched off the bleachers.

"Coach Bradley! Are we playing against the orange team?" he asked, pointing to the kids in the opposing uniforms.

"We sure are. Those are the Tiny Hawks. Much less intimidating than a Tiny Eagle," Bradley said, adjusting his cap. "You ready to play? We're going to need our top power hitter if we have a chance at winning."

"Yeah!" Everett yelled.

"Start warming up for the game," Bradley said, patting him on the shoulder as he ran toward Bob. Then he turned toward you and smirked. You were chewing on your bottom lip as you looked up at him like you were about to kiss him. "You look cute, Kitten. And on that note, I'm going to go cool down for the game."

Your laughter followed him as he went to meet with the referee. When the game started, he could hear you cheering loudly for Everett, your voice reaching his ears over everyone else's.

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

The game was honestly pretty exciting for a bunch of first graders hitting a ball off a vertical stick. Everett had two hits and even made it to third base during one inning. And whenever there was downtime in the game, you still got to look at Bradley in those tight, white pants.

The moms behind you started whispering, and you were trying not to laugh.

"I'll bet Coach Bradley could bench press me. His biceps look like fire hydrants."

"Tara, he's got to have a girlfriend. There's no way something that meaty is still on the market."

Then Everett hit the ball so hard, another player on his team scored a run. "Go Everett! Run!" you shouted, jumping out of your seat and cheering.

Bradley turned around and smiled at you as Everett won the game for his team. You waited for the kids to shake hands with each other, and then Everett gave Bradley another high five before running to you.

"Mommy!" he shouted as you caught him in your arms. "I'm a power hitter! Just like Coach Bradley said!"

"You really are! You were amazing!"

Then he wriggled out of your arms and said, "Can I play on the swings with the other kids?"

There was a good view of the swings from the snack bar, and now Bradley was heading your way with his gear bag slung over his shoulder and some dirt on his white pants.

"Yeah, Ev. Just stay on the playground."

Bradley stopped in front of you. "I have a little team business I'd like to discuss with you, Team Mom. Would you join me on a bench near the snack bar?"

You rolled your eyes and tried not to laugh. "Sure, Coach Bradley." So you turned and walked next to him for the first time; Everett was usually tucked in the middle when he walked you both to your car. Bradley was so tall when he was right next to you that you had to tilt your head up to talk to him. The other moms were right. He was definitely something to look at.

"Congrats on your perfect winning record, Coach," you told him, earning a deep laugh that made your lips part as you sucked in a breath.

"Thanks, but I guess I should really be thanking Ev. He won us the game."

You just smiled and glanced at your son as he played. "He's doing so well. I can't believe it."

Bradley just shrugged as he led you up to the window to order some snacks. "He's talented, and he's fast. Does...his dad practice with him?"

You glanced up at him and shook your head. "No. Danny barely sees him at all."

A crease appeared on Bradley's brow and he immediately looked kind of angry. "Why not? He's not local?"

You snorted as you gave him a pitying look. "He lives in Mission Beach. He's just not interested."

"What the fuck?" Bradley asked, earning a glare from the woman who was trying to take your order at the snack bar.

You just nudged his arm as you ordered your soft pretzel and cherry Icee. He ordered himself a soft pretzel and a lemonade and paid before you could get to your wallet.

"I already told you, it's my treat," he said, grabbing both drinks while you grabbed the pretzels. "Now I need you to explain to me how Everett's dad lives in San Diego but never spends time with him. I don't understand."

You just shrugged and sat down on a bench in the shade. "It's just one of the many reasons Danny and I are divorced. He never showed much interest in Ev, even when he was a baby."

Bradley settled in next to you and handed you the Icee. "I mean... babies are kind of scary. But Everett is fucking great."

You just looked at him, his pretty brown eyes flashing with anger and annoyance.

"Yeah, Ev is the best. We're better off without Danny."

Bradley took one of the soft pretzels from you and ate half of it in one bite and chewed it up.

"Does that mean you're single, Kitten?" he asked without hesitation. "Been wanting to know."

You grinned at him as your phone vibrated in your pocket. "You've been wanting to know?" You ignored a text from Frank and set your phone down on the bench between your thigh and Bradley's.

"Come on, Kitten. Just tell me. You're playing with me like I'm a ball of yarn."

Your grin gew as you nibbled on your pretzel and tried to figure out what to tell him. Essentially Frank was nothing. Inconsequential. In fact, he was really irritating you at the moment as another text came through after you'd already told him you were busy this weekend.

"Well," you started. But now Frank was calling you. As you tried to ignore the call, Bradley looked at the screen.

"Who's Frank?" he asked, looking up at your face with a forced neutral expression. "Someone you're dating?"

"No," you replied, scrunching up your nose.

"So you're single?"

"Yes."

"Good. Because you've got some salt on your lip," he whispered, brushing your bottom lip with his thumb. Without giving it a second thought, you licked the salt from the pad of his thumb. Bradley froze with his eyes wide, staring at your mouth. "Jesus, Kitten."

Your face had the decency to grow warm as he leaned in a bit closer and whispered, "Next time I'll kiss it away."

You let out a tiny squeak as your phone started ringing again.

"Damn it, Frank," Bradley growled as he scooped up your phone and answered it. "This is Kitten's phone. How can I help you?"

"Bradley!" you gasped, lunging for the phone as he switched ears. You watched him sip his lemonade as he looked at you, keeping the phone firmly out of your reach.

"Yeah, I hear you, Frank. But she's at a tee ball game right now. Want me to relay a message?"

"Give it back," you scolded him, reaching for it again.

Bradley shook his head, but you just climbed across his lap to get your phone, your chest pressed against his. But now he was holding your phone out in his massive hand with his arm extended, and smiling a few inches from your lips.

"Bradley!" you said with an exasperated laugh. "You're terrible!"

"And you're wonderful," he replied as you anchored one hand around his neck and reached for the phone. You planted your right knee between his thighs and reached, but he finally relented by handing the phone to you.

"Frank?" you asked a bit breathlessly when you had the phone to your ear. You were touching Bradley in the weirdest assortment of places, but neither of his hands were on you. You wished they were.

"Frank, I'll see you on Monday," you said, paying no attention to what he was saying before ending the call.

"Who's Frank?" Bradley asked again, his breath ghosting across your cheek as you eased yourself off of his lap. But his hand came up to your waist to hold you in place and your eyes met his.

"A guy from work. Who doesn't know how to take no for an answer."

"What the hell does that mean?" Bradley's voice was tight.

"Oh, just that I told him I'm busy this weekend, but he's still bugging me." You swallowed hard. You were going to need to completely end things with Frank. Soon. Because as you eased your knee over Bradley's thigh, you had to fight the urge to kiss him. You never craved kisses from Frank. "But maybe he'll leave me alone now that you answered my phone."

You were sitting on your knees on the bench facing Bradley when he turned toward you and asked, "Do I need to worry about Frank?"

Your lips parted in a silent smile, and you laughed. His eyes looked a little hurt as they met yours.

"You don't need to worry about anyone, Coach."

His face eased into a soft smile. "Have you given any more thought to that Phillies game, Kitten? It's my treat if you and Ev want to go."

"That's not necessary," you insisted. But you wanted to go in the worst way.

But if you told Everett that this was even a possibility, he would ask about it nonstop for the next month. Letting Everett spend time with Bradley outside of tee ball was just asking for trouble. Spending time by yourself with Bradley outside of tee ball was probably just as bad.

"I know it's not necessary, but I'd still love to take both of you."

His eyes were so sincere. You had never been interested in a guy who you allowed to be around Everett before. But Bradley was in two categories: Everett's Coach and a guy you really liked. And it would be impossible to separate the two now.

"I want to say yes...."

"Then say yes," he replied. "And you should say yes when I ask you out on a date without Everett. And you should say yes when I ask you if I can practice tee ball with him since his dad sounds like such a tool."

You felt soft inside. "All of that sounds nice, Coach. And I do the best I can with helping him practice, but I don't know that much about baseball."

"I can teach you," Bradley said softly, stroking your knee through your jeans. "Over dinner? What do you like to eat, Kitten?"

"I'm not picky."

"What's your favorite?"

You kind of shrugged. "Cheap burgers and expensive champagne."

Bradley laughed. "I love that, too."

Then Everett came over and squeezed onto the bench in the small gap between your knees and Bradley's thigh. "I'm starving," he whined.

When you checked your phone, you were surprised to find it was a lot later than you thought. "Ready to head home for lunch?"

"Yes," he said, and just when you were about to remind him to thank his coach, Everett threw his arms around Bradley's neck.

"Thanks for making me such a good player."

You watched Bradley return his hug, something you couldn't ever remember Danny doing.

"I didn't do much, kiddo. You're a natural," Bradley told him with a smile.

"I don't know what that means, but it sounds good," Everett said, standing up and collecting his gear bag.

"Thanks for the snack," you whispered as Everett took your hand and started pulling you toward the parking lot.

"Bye, Kitten."

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

Bradley watched you walk away, looking like a real treat in those jeans. The bench was suddenly too quiet and lonely without your attention for him to bask in. So he just sipped his lemonade and tried to figure out how to make you feel more comfortable.

Clearly you were hesitant to tell him who the hell Frank was. That was a potential problem. But Bradley had to smile at the memory of Frank sputtering in confusion when he answered your phone.

Frank was going to have to go.

You also needed some reassurance about Everett. Bradley genuinely liked your son, and he could picture himself tossing a ball around the park with him. If he wanted to play real ball in the fall, Everett was going to need to get better at fielding. He seemed to love baseball as much as Bradley did at that age. And honestly baseball was the one thing that really helped him deal with losing his dad.

It was funny how Everett reminded him so much of himself, but Bradley thought perhaps Everett had it worse than he did. Nick Bradshaw was just gone from Bradley's life by the time he was in first grade. Completely wiped away. No chance of ever seeing or talking to his dad again. But Everett's dad lived a scant five miles away from this bench and never spent any time with his kid.

"Fucked up," Bradley mumbled to himself. Especially since you and Everett's dad had been married. Who does that shit to their family, divorced or not? Bradley had to roll his shoulders to help himself calm down.

If it was okay with you, he would take Everett to the park one day. He thought they would both have fun.

As he finished his lemonade, his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text from you.

"Okay, Coach. Take us to the Phillies game. We both really want to go with you."

He smiled and opened the internet tab where he had been looking at tickets. He bought three seats in the outfield and took a screenshot of the receipt. Then he texted you the image along with a promise.

"I really want to go with both of you, too."

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

Bye, Frank. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 5

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jellyclogs · 1 year ago

Text

Shanks x reader: Laundry

Trigger warnings: I can't really think of any

Word count: 3k

Fluff, shanks and y/n are cute

Shanks could not take his eyes off of (y/n). It wasn't like she had done anything special today. She was just being her normal self, wearing her normal clothes. Still, he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. Even though her top wasn't tighter than normal he could swear her chest looked bigger, and did those shorts make her ass look better? (Y/n) was always beautiful to him. She wasn't the kind of beautiful that would make her a supermodel but she was beautiful. Shanks found her beauty was even more striking because it was real. Most days he could just pretend not to notice. But on days like today, Shanks just couldn't make his mind ignore it.

(Y/n) was doing the crew's laundry, this week was her turn. She had already washed it and now was hanging it to dry. She hummed along to a sound dial playing some Soul King, her hips swaying along. Shanks always loved a chance to see her sweet domestic side. Not that he minded seeing her be ruff and rowdy but seeing her like this scratched an itch in his brain like nothing else could.

(Y/n) was the crew's animal expert. Shanks had not understood when he first recruited her what that really meant. What it meant was she was an animal whisper. She could understand animals like no one else he'd ever met. It was unreal to watch her work. She could silently communicate with them. You leave her in a room with a wild animal and within two hours it's in her lap wanting to be pet.

"You know I can feel you staring?" (Y/n) turned to Shanks one of his shirts in her hands. She reached over and grabbed some clothespins out of a tiny little basket. She pined the shirt up, with a smile on her lips.

"It's not my fault you look so nice," Shanks smirked at her. He had been wondering how long shed let him get away with his staring.

"Is there something I can do for you, Captain?" Her voice had a hint of amusement to it and Shanks could see a smile on her pretty lips.

"No, just enjoying the view." Shanks gave her a devilish grin," I've got to say it is quite the view." His eyes did not leave her. In moments like this, it was easy to forget how adept she was with a set of daggers. It was easy to imagine her as a girl from a small island, that he was slowly but surely convincing her to be his.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes turning her back to him "So are you going to just stand there and watch me?" She grabbed the next piece of laundry and began to hang it up. Her hips still swaying to the music.

"Have something else for me to do?" Shanks quirked his brow, still smiling.

"You could always help me," (y/n) offered.

"Are you trying to push your work off on your captain?" Shanks gasped in mock offense. His hand came to rest on his chest over his heart, “Your captain does not appreciate it.”

"So you talk about yourself in the third person now?" (Y/n) gave Shanks a funny look over her shoulder. “Captin it's not even noon lay off the saki.”

Shanks bit his lip and then laughed. Their gose (y/n)'s silver tongue. He's always loved how quick-witted she was. Then there was the look she gave him. That was damned adorable. He could feel the smile growing on his lips, "I'll take that as a, 'yes I'm trying to make you do my work for me captain', that's not very nice (y/n)." Shanks shook his head teasingly.

"Oh feel free to just sit and watch me, but if you happen to get bored I wouldn't mind the hand." (Y/n) huffed, Finishing pinning up a sheet. Her back was still to shanks, but he could feel that she rolled her eyes at him.

Shanks thought about it for a long moment before standing up and walking over to help her, “Well I guess since there is nothing else for me to do I might as well help you.” Shanks looked at the basket of laundry she was pulling from and saw it was mostly empty.

“Only if you really feel like it captain.” (y/n) shot him a sweet little smile, “I was mostly teasing you anyways,” she said carelessly.

Shanks wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder, “You're so mean to your captain (y/n).” Shanks tsked, “What on earth am I going to do with you?”

Mel rolled her eyes. She was used to shanks being cuddly. She had hated it when she first joined the crew but now she didn't mind. Not that she would tell her captain but there were few places she felt safer than in his arm(s), “We both know you’re being over dramatic.” (y/n) patted Shanks’ cheek.

Shanks took a deep breath and soaked in the feeling of just holding the beautiful woman. Holding her like this was almost torturous. He would never push his luck but dam it he wanted to feel more of her, “I am allowed to be overdramatic.” his voice had dropped an octave, “And we both know that you like it when I am.”

(y/n) felt a chill run down her spine. There were many things about Shanks that drove her crazy but his voice was at the top of that list. She had a feeling, Shanks knew just what he did to her. She was never sure if he liked her or just enjoyed seeing her squirm. “How is this helping me?” her voice was a little higher than normal.

Shanks smirked, “Oh I changed my mind,” he could feel her heart racing under his touch, “I'm gonna be a hindrance to you instead.”

(y/n) let out a soft laugh, “Now you're being the mean one.” She wriggled out of his grasp and grabbed the next sheet from the basket.

Shanks laughed himself grabbing the second to last sheet from the basket, “Ok fine ill help.”

“Well thank you, captain,” (y/n) handed him two clothespins before grabbing two for herself.

“So is this the last load?” Shanks asked before holding the clothespin between his lips and tossing the sheet over the line. He quickly pined the sheet in place.

“Yep, it's the last load.” (y/n) responded finishing hanging up the sheet in her hands and then grabbing the last one out of the basket.

“For someone begging for help, you didn't need it much.” Shanks cooed with a teasing smile.

“Maby it was just bugging me that you were silently sitting there and staring at me.” (y/n) scratched the back of her head.

“And like I told you it isn't my fault you’re so nice to look at.” shanks shot her a cocky smirk.

(y/n) thought about her next words for a bit longer than their playful conversion called for. She sighed and then asked, “Do you flirt with me because you like me or just because it's something to do?” She had wanted to ask him the question for a while now.

Shanks froze, he hadn’t expected to hear her ask a question like this. He stared into her (e/c) eyes for a moment, “I flirt with you because you are a strong, quick-witted, and beautiful woman.” he reached out and grabbed her hand, “It does help pass the time but I do it because I like you.” his thumb brushed along the back of her hand. “Do you flirt back because you like me?” he asked in a teasing but sweet voice.

(y/n) looked into Shanks’s worm-brown eyes before smiling, “Oh I like you, captain,” she purred suddenly confident. She thought about it for a moment before grabbing his collar and pulling him in for a kiss.

Shanks did not hesitate to kiss her back. He leaned down to meet her lips his hand letting go of hers as his arm snaked around her waist again. This was definitely a good outcome for him. He was smiling into the kiss. It was a soft and sweet kiss.

The two of them had been playfully flirting for months. Shanks hadn't pushed it passed flirting because it would have felt wrong. He hadn't wanted to force her into a relationship if she didn't want to. He didn't want her to feel like just because he was the captain she had to be with him.

After a long moment (y/n) pulled away. She leaned her head against Shanks’s chest. All her confidence was gone. She could feel herself blushing. The animal whisperer had very little experience with men. She was a blushing virgin and was suddenly insecure about it. She knew Shanks was a bit of a ladies' man. She knew he was experienced. Her mind began to spiral, wondering if he'd still like her knowing how inexperienced she was “Sorry if that was too forward.” (y/n) mumbled.

Shanks couldn't stop smiling, “To forward?” he hummed. He picked her up cradling her in the crook of his elbow, “You really do act like a proper damsel sometimes.” he laughed resting his forehead against hers, “But no you weren't too forward.” he was enjoying the adorable flushed look she had on her face. She was a truly beautiful woman.

“Hay (y/n) you hungry?” Lucky Roux called into the mess of clotheslines and clean clothes.

(y/n) quickly slipped out of Shanks’s grasp before calling back, “That depends, what's for lunch?” She was a little glad to have an excuse to run and hide from Shanks. She needed a moment to regain her composure before she interacted with Shanks again. She flipped the sound dial off before she quickly headed towards Lucky Roux trying hard to calm the blush on her face.

Lucky Roux rolled his eyes, “You are such a picky eater.” he laughed a smile spreading on his face.

“Yeah, I am,” (y/n) emerged from the maze of hanging clothes. “So what's for lunch?”

“Well, I kept it simple, just some sandwiches,” Lucky Roux could see the flush of the girl's cheeks and smiled harder. He wasn't going to ask why she was blushing because he had a feeling why. He could spot the top of Shanks’s head from the same direction the (h/c) haired girl had come from.

######

(y/n) spent the rest of the day avoiding Shanks. She felt like a flustered preteen girl every time she thought of him. She knew the rest of the crew could tell she was avoiding him. She figured she would explain it later. If it bugged anyone they hadn't said anything.

She had eaten lunch with Lucky Roux. The man had been giving her a knowing smile the whole time. Clearly, he understood what had happened. She was glad he hadn't pressed for details.

It had been a couple of hours since lunch. (y/n) had been hiding in her room trying to get a grip on her feelings. She decided she should go see if the laundry was dry. She was an adult woman and had responsibilities she needed to attend to. She couldn't spend all day being a flustered little girl.

(y/n) slipped out of her room. Her bare feet made almost no noise on the wooden floorboards of the ship. The sun was setting as she got to the deck. She could tell the clothes were dry just by looking at them.

She began to pull the laundry down and sort it. Each crew member labeled their clothes by writing their names on the tags just to make it easier to sort. She checked the tags of each piece of clothing before tossing it into each respective crew member's basket. She didn't bother to fold the clothes, however, she did fold the sheets and bedding.

“So you finally came out of your room?” a slightly gruff voice teased as the smell of cigarette smoke came to invade (y/n)’s nose

“Beckmen put that out,” Mel spun to glare at Shanks’s right-hand man, Benn Beckmen, “Do not make all of the clean laundry smell like cigarettes… again”

Beckmen laughed, “Ok jeez (y/n) I'll put it out.” he dropped his cigarette and squished it under his foot, “So what did Shanks do?”

“He didn't do anything wrong I promise.” (y/n) handed Beckmen his basket full of clean clothes. Beckmen was Shanks's leash. He made it his role to keep Shanks from doing things the crew would regret.

“So then, why were you being a shut-in?” Beckman pressed. He knew both Shanks and (y/n) well enough that he could tell that something had happened between them. (y/n) wasn't the only one acting weird, Shanks had been mopey since lunch.

“Well Mom if you have to know,” (y/n) threw her hands up in surrender. She hoped the nickname would get under his skin. “We kissed.”

Beckmen shook his head and rolled his eyes, “Why did that make you hide in your room.” he didn't mind the nickname, especially since it was (y/n) calling him it. What big strong man didn't like to be called a demeaning nickname by a pretty girl?

(y/n)’s face flushed, “Because I'm a dumb girl who doesn't know what to do now.” She paused before adding, “That's not me asking you for advice it's me answering your question.”

Beckmen wasn't dumb he had seen the way the (h/c) haired girl acted around Shanks. The girl liked the redhead. “Did the kiss not go well?” Beckmen asked her softly.

“I think it went good, It’s just,” (y/n) wasn't sure how to explain her concerns, “I have absolutely no experience. I don't want Shanks to be disappointed.” She winced at her own words hoping she didn't sound too pathetic.

“You have no clue how men think sweetheart.” Beckman chuckled. “Shanks doesn't care what experience you have.” he decided not to tell her that Shanks would probably be thrilled to be her first.

“So I'm just overthinking things?” (y/n) asked.

“Yes, you are,” Beckmen rustled her hair. The whole crew knew (y/n) was a bit on the innocent side. They didn't know much about her past however they had the idea she had been fairly sheltered from people. She had little cues that let them know she hadn't socialized much as a kid.

“Thank you Beckmen,” (y/n) gave the crew mom a hug.

“No problem,” Beckmen hugged her back before letting her go and picking up his laundry basket. “Go talk to Shanks when you get a chance,” he said as he walked away. His job was done, the issue could work itself out now.

######

(y/n) had dropped everyone else's laundry off to them, and now she was just standing in front of Shanks’s door holding his laundry basket. She had realized how her reaction must have seemed to him. She felt bad and wanted to apologize to him but was having a hard time working up the courage to knock on his door.

She knew she couldn't spend the whole night awkwardly standing in front of the captain's door. She closed her eyes and counted to three before knocking on the door. She had to do this.

“Come on in,” Shanks called through the door.

(y/n) balanced the laundry basket against her hip and opened the door before stepping in, “I'm sorry for avoiding you.” she said softly. It would be best to just rip the bandaid off.

Shanks looked up at her, he was sitting at his desk, “Don't be,” he gave the girl a reassuring smile, “So was it just too much for you? Did you relize you didn't actually like me like you thought? And if that's it that's fine don't sweat it. It's perfectly fine if you don’t like me” shanks did like the woman but at the end of the day he’d rather be friends than nothing at all.

“Oh no it's not like that.” (y/n) set the basket down, “I was just,” she sighed, “please don't laugh but I have absolutely no experience with relationships and I didn't know what to do. I know you are someone” (y/n) thought for a moment on how to say it, “with a lot of experience and not usually interested in a monogamous relationship and I wasn't ready to have the conversation of what we are now or if our relationship had changed.”

Shanks silently stared at (y/n) for a long moment, “That has to be the nicest way I have ever been called a man whore.” shanks grinned at (y/n) hoping that cracking a joke would help ease the tension.

(y/n)’s blush grew, “I didn't mean it like that.” She frantically tried to correct herself.

“You’re not wrong, I usually don't go for monogamy but most of the people I'm getting with arnt on my ship. There is usually a mutual understanding that it's just a one-night stand when I'm hooking up with someone. But that's not what I want with you.” He stood up and walked over to (y/n).

(y/n) fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, “What do you want with me?” she asked her heart racing again.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” Shanks reached out and set his hand on her cheek. He really did mean it. (y/n) was a beautiful, intelligent, sweet, and capable woman. If he would settle down for anyone it was her.

“I want to be your girlfriend,” (y/n) leaned into Shanks’s touch. She liked the feeling of him touching her. She wanted to no longer hide from that.

Shanks stepped in close to her, wrapping his arm around her waist, “Well then you’re my girlfriend.” his voice was inching closer to the deep husky tone that drove (y/n) crazy.

(y/n) smiled wrapping her arms around his neck, “I'm your girlfriend,” she purred smiling ear to ear.

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yoongihan · 2 years ago

Note

hi hi! Can I ask for a drabble with Seungmin and the prompt "Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now?" and "I can't hold back anymore" as friends to lovers? Thank you 🥺

pairing: seungmin x femreader

genre: smut, fluff, f2l (as requested :D)

rating: M for light smut

word count: ~2k

warnings: smut in the form of a hand job (m. receiving), making out, implied other happenings, some cursing, name-calling (it's seungmin, what do you expect), I don't think there's much else, honestly.

a/n: sorry this took so long @multiland. also a huge thank you to @jl-micasea-fics for brainstorming this dynamic with me. my first time writing Seungmin and I had a lot of fun! also, I probably missed some typos/mistakes...apologies.

original request post here

99% Idiot

The things you do for friends.

Especially the things you do for Seungmin (who is definitely just a friend).

“Are you bored?” he asks when you let out a big sigh the moment he turns away to peruse his paraphernalia.

“I mean, holding still while you overthink is actually really stimulating, Min.”

He side-eyes you while still glancing over his array of palettes. “I am not overthinking. I’m considering what might be best.”

“Overthinking,” you sing-song at him. He turns, holding one of the brushes he has gathered for this experience.

“You’re a brat.”

“But I’m still right.” You smile at him, intent on making him smile back. “My face is your canvas, and makeup remover exists. So stop playing chess.”

There it is. The little quirk of his lips. You point at it.

“What?”

“You smiled.”

“Did not.” The serious student is back but his eyes sparkle, so you know…you totally win. “Stay still.”

You drop your hand, fake-pout before trying to keep your face neutral. Seungmin has been really worried about this assignment in his Creative Makeup class.

“Something new. That’s the assignment! Create something new!” he complained at you two days ago. “Like that’s just easy. So much has been done before. How can I even–” He looked at you then, frustration etched on his face.

“My face is at your disposal.” Because what else could you say? You aren’t a creative like him. You aren’t nearly as diligent a student as him. You know so little about makeup (you stopped trying to enhance yourself with makeup the moment Seungmin asked why you owned blue eyeshadow with that horrified expression of his) that the only thing you can offer is yourself.

Um, your face. Not like all of you. Body and soul to Kim Seungmin. That would be…a bit much.

He’s doing something to your eyebrows currently. He plucks one hair and you wince.

“Ow.”

“Baby.”

It’s an insult. You know that, but the name-calling is a little too sweet-sounding for your overworked and repressing brain.

“Tyrant,” you respond.

He grins widely at that. Of course, he would be flattered by an unflattering title.

Why are you friends with him?

He’s leaned in to brush something on your cheeks and you wonder how wise volunteering to be his guinea pig (where does that even come from? Why guinea pig? Were they the first volunteering rodent out there?) when his face is that close.

He’s such an interesting version of beauty. No one looking at him would think him anything but attractive, but it’s not a ‘smack you in the face’ kind of beauty (you picture Seungmin’s friend Hyunjin who regularly smacks you with his hotness and it’s hella intimidating and you kinda want to run away). Seungmin is a subtle beauty. Thoughtful eyes, amused lips, fluffy hair. He’s lanky, but he did beat you in arm wrestling. Which isn’t anything to write home about, but he is stronger than he looks.

His face is sweet, though some would argue that he is not, he really is. He’s just not overt about it. He mocks you regularly, but you don’t think he would if it actually hurt your feelings. He’s soft with Felix, who is the most sensitive of your friend group. When you try and wrap your arm around his shoulders, he ducks away. When Felix does it, Seungmin just takes it.

You’re not jealous of Felix or anything.

“Where’d you go?” he asks, jolting you back to the present. He’s cocked his head to the side, staring at you.

You don’t take it seriously. He’s doing your makeup for fucks sake. Even if the scrutiny is a bit much for your composure.

“Somewhere where my face isn’t being looked at like a science experiment.”

He rolls his eyes before holding your chin in his hand. “Lips.”

You really are an idiot 99% of the time.

You pucker them exaggeratedly and he huffs at you.

“Slightly parted, pabo.”

That’s one of his nicknames for you. But he calls Jisung that too, so it’s not special or anything.

You ‘slightly part’ your lips, trying to pretend that having him this close, touching you, laser-focused on your mouth is all normal and cool.

He paints your lower lip with a tiny brush, meticulous. His thumb touches the bottom of your lip to keep it from moving too much.

“Your face is red.”

“Guess you did a shitty job, then,” you retort. One corner of his mouth turns up and his eyes meet yours just for a second before he returns to the job at hand.

He works on your top lip before speaking again: “I do appreciate this.”

You are now speechless.

He laughs when you raise your eyebrows. “I do. I do a lot on my own face, but I know the contours of everything so well now. You’re…you have different contours.”

“Is that a compliment?” You mean to sound cocky, but the thready quality of your voice ruins that completely.

He shrugs, before reaching to smooth something at the corner of your lips. “It’s not not a compliment.”

Your turn to roll your eyes as he holds out a hand mirror in front of you.

You see the reflection’s eyes widen. He’s literally made you look not like you. Your eyes seem bigger, nose narrower, cheeks higher, and lips fuller.

When you look at him over the mirror, he snaps a photo on his phone.

“Hey, I wasn’t ready.”

He makes a dismissive sound before taking another. “What do you think?”

You look back at the mirror. “I think I could be a spy if you were in charge of my disguises. I do not look like myself.” And maybe you’re fishing. “I look…pretty.”

He groans and takes the mirror out of your hand. “Fuck off, you are pretty.” He starts to angle your face and takes a few more photos. “Eyes closed please.”

You shut your eyes, your heart a little fluttery at the disgruntled compliment.

“Thank you Seungmin.”

When you open your eyes, he’s about to use a makeup remover wipe on your face.

“What? Why?”

“You think that’s it?”

The groan you let out makes him giggle.

You have no idea how many minutes or hours pass, but your face feels very abused and he’s tried four looks on you.

“My face has lost like seven layers of skin,” you whine when he wipes your face again.

“Unlikely, but skin tends to grow back pretty easily so just skip classes for a few weeks.” He rubs the cloth over your lips as you pout, laughing when your lower lip makes a noise as it bounces back into position.

“I hope you fail this assignment.”

“No you don’t,” he answers easily before coating his hands in something then putting it on your face. “Lotion. Face lotion. I stole it from Hyunjin.”

“Well, if it’s Hyunjin’s then I guess it’s good.” You don’t question why he’s doing it when you have two perfectly good hands. It’s kind of nice. He’s actually gentle. Your eyes close when he massages along your jaw. “Does this mean you’re done torturing me?” You open your eyes to see him staring at you oddly. He drops his hands and turns back to his plethora of makeup and skincare.

He dabs something on his finger before returning, this time to your lips. You make a sound at the contact and he freezes, eyes darting to yours.

You’re not used to Seungmin looking out of his depth.

“I…your lips too,” he says, swallowing before drawing his finger along your bottom lip. “They need moisture.” He presses his own lips together as he rehydrates your top lip. He doesn’t pull back immediately, his finger still lightly touching. “Better?”

You don’t know how words work anymore.

His face is flushed now, cheeks pink and his ears almost red. He mumbles your name, as though to prompt you to say something, but all you can focus on is how his hand is finally drawing away and you’re sort of following.

“Your face is red,” you whisper. He shrugs but doesn’t make eye contact. “Min…”

That’s when he looks up, eyes that are usually full of mischief and are just wide and concerned right now.

You really are an idiot 99% of the time.

But it’s the 1% (you hope) that speaks up:

“Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now?”

You watch as his eyes fall to your well-moisturized lips then back to your gaze.

You’re going to take that as a ‘yes’.

When you tug him close by the collar of his windbreaker, his hands find purchase on your jean-clad thighs before your mouths meet. You have thought previously of what it might be like to kiss Seungmin, and you thought he might be just as logical and rational about kissing as he seems to be with everything else.

You were wrong.

You forgot about how passionate he is about things that matter to him.

His tongue seeks yours almost immediately, you hear his sharp intake of breath at the way you return the kiss, mouth open and your hands nearly pulling him out of his seat. He stumbles a bit, before settling onto your lap, his hands now at your hips. He squeezes them before pulling at your t-shirt to untuck it from your jeans. When his hands touch your skin, you bite his lower lip and he jerks back to look at you.

That’s when you realize you are still holding on to his collar with a death grip. You loosen your fingers before cupping his face in your hands, your thumb soothing where you’ve just bit.

He’s panting, those eyes still wide, but much darker now. You lean in, gauging his response before brushing your mouth on his. He moans softly, kissing you back, his hands trailing up your sides until he reaches your bra. When he lets his fingers drift over the cup, tickling your breast, you jolt right against him.

In case you weren’t sure if he was into it, feeling how hard he is sets your mind at ease.

When you press your hand there, he lets out another moan before his face drops into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck you,” he whispers.

“I mean,” you begin, trying to get your own breath back. “I think that’s what you’re wanting to do.”

You feel a nip on your skin and you shiver. You stroke a little harder through his sweats and he rocks into your hand.

“You feel so good, baby.” He lifts his head to meet your eyes. “Baby,” he repeats, when you smile at him. He kisses your nose then lips again. “You keep doing that…I can’t hold back anymore…”

“You threatening me, Kim Seungmin?”

He kisses you again, grinding before you slip your hand past his waistband. He trembles.

“Yes,” he groans. “I promise to torture you next…” You feel his fingers tighten their hold on you and it’s honestly the best thing you’ve ever done.

He comes in a matter of what feels like seconds, slumping against you. You carefully tuck him back into his pants, dropping a kiss to his cheek. He raises up to glare at you before kissing you back. It’s languid, the slow strokes of his tongue, one of his hands returning to your breast. When you shudder at his touch, you feel his chuckle more than hear it, his mouth leaving yours to trail to cheek then ear. One nibble on your earlobe has you making a sound that you know he’ll mock you for eternity about.

“Didn’t you already torture me? The whole makeup thing?” you ask, mild pleading in your words.

He slides off your lap and takes your hand. “You make a good point.” He pulls you off the chair and down the hallway as you stagger behind him. “Guess I better thank you properly then.” He whirls you into his bedroom and shuts the door behind him.

The things you do for friends.

Especially the things you do for Seungmin (who is no longer just a friend).

© yoongihan 2023. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

#seungmin smut #stray kids smut #seungmin fluff #stray kids fluff #seungmin x reader #seungmin x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids drabble #seungmin drabble #seungmin imagines #straykidsland #my writing

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californiaboytoybilly · 3 months ago

Text

Eddie Munson would like to think that years of hunting monsters had taught him to be incredibly aware of his surroundings.

Over those years, lots of things- both of the human and creepy-crawly variety- had tried to get the jump on him and they always either ended up unconscious, or dead.

However, he must have missed something this time.

Pointed fingertips dig into his throat as his back hit the wall hard, enough to feel the aftershock rattle through his bones. The breath was punched out of him in one smooth whoosh.

His eyes shot to his attacker as he tried to rapidly calculate how to get loose.

“Got you.” The man purred. For the briefest moment, he almost could have passed as human with his golden skin and blue eyes, impossibly big and gleaming in the dim alleyway.

Gleaming like a cat’s eyes.

Not human. Vampire. Fuck.

“I will rip your head from your fucking neck—“ Eddie snarled, kicking out with his loose leg. He might as well have kicked a bag of flour for all the good it did him.

“Oh, I’d really rather you didn’t. I’m pretty fond of his head, especially attached.” A second voice chimed in from the other side of the alleyway, earning a snort from the creature who had him trapped.

“You’d just miss my tongue, sweetheart.” He said without hesitating, lips curling into a grin. His sharp teeth glinted. Eddie felt his panic spike as the other figure started to come into focus. He tried to suck in a breath, the hand on his neck a little too tight.

After everything he’d survived— everything he’d done and learned— he was going to be some vampire couples fuckin’ Happy Meal while they flirted over his cooling corpse.

“Mm, maybe. Now come on, Bils. Stop playing with your food, I want to go home.” The other creature stepped free of the shadows at last, studying his nails like a bored trust fund baby.

No, not nails. Claws.

He was tall, athletic in build and covered in lean bands of muscle. A trail of thick, dark hair disappeared into cut off denim shorts, which in literally any situation where his life wasn’t at stake he might’ve been distracted by. His amber eyes were lazily trained on Eddie and the vampire ‘Bils’ and there was a dog collar- with tags- around his throat.

A werewolf? Eddie’s baffled eyes darted between the two. He’d never seen a vampire and a werewolf in the same space unless they were trying to rip each other into tiny, bloody shreds.

What the fuck?

At least he got to see something new as a send off. Very little surprised him in general anymore.

“But he’s feisty. That’s half the fun, Stevie.” The bloodsucker honest to god pouted as he looked back over his shoulder at his partner, who just sighed.

“I’ll do that thing you li-“ Wolfy started, raising an eyebrow.

“Done. Deal.” That only earned him a bark of laughter in response.

Eddie, who’d been slowly getting his arm closer to the sharp dagger hidden in the holster on his belt, suddenly had the vampire’s full attention back on him.

“It’s a waste though. He’s kind of pretty.” He said, venom-sweet breath washing over Eddie’s face as he leaned in. The other one crossed to where they stood. Eddie flinched as a warm hand skimmed over his shoulder and into his hair, claws leaving a tingling trail in their wake.

“He is…” Stevie agreed, starting to sound a little foggy. Eddie felt the tension drain from his body, against his will. As he felt the sharp scratch of fangs on his throat, he sent a quiet apology to Wayne. Those razor sharp teeth cut his skin like butter, making him yelp out in pain. As ripples of euphoria began to spread from his throat to the rest of his body, he heard one last thing come from the werewolves' mouth. "Maybe we can keep him, if you don't make a complete mess of him anyway." Eddie Munson- from hunter to prized show poodle, he thought sardonically as his brain started to swim. And that's when he lost the battle against unconsciousness.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #eddie munson #metalsandwich #mungrove #i had this idea ages ago but couldn't get up the motivation to make it a whole fic #so have this lol #probably won't be continued (by me) but let your imaginations fly #metalsandwich drabble #vampire billy hargrove #werewolf steve harrington

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zepskies · 2 years ago

Text

Break Me Down - Part 5

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Get ready, there be some surprises in store for this one…

Word Count: 5,100

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut (m. receiving oral and implied smut), SB’s attempts at flirting lol.

Part 5: Morning, Night & Day

Now that you were allowed to roam the mansion freely, you were able to confirm that it was huge. And it was beautiful…if a bit dusty.

The house boasted Spanish style arches and textured walls, cherry wood furniture and rod iron lamps and wall sconces, not to mention various art pieces on the walls that looked well-curated. No doubt Soldier Boy had hired an excellent interior designer.

You were more interested in the garden outside. It was tucked away behind the pool, in the shade of large palm fronds and bigger trees. Peeking through them was a lovely view of the mountains.

Though it reminded you of the damn cliff where you fell, Soldier Boy saving you, and of course, being an arrogant asshole about it.

Your lips pursed in annoyance. What a dick.

Expelling a heavy sigh, you shook the thought of him out of your head as best you could, and tilted your head up to the sunshine. You’d found a nice stone bench to just sit and be, and try not to think about why you were here.

“Lunch time,” Frank said, encroaching on your solitude. He wasn’t a chatty man, always one to hand off your meal and leave. Escort you back to your room and leave.

You were bored enough (and perhaps lonely enough) to attempt a conversation.

“You seem to be the brains of the operation,” you remarked. “Yet he’s got you babysitting me. My condolences.”

Frank gave you a bland look. He wasn’t a hothead like Tony, but he was starting to look annoyed as he was still holding out the plate to you. It looked like a roast beef sandwich on rye with some mixed fruit on the side. At least they were trying to keep you healthy.

“I’m not a fan of rye bread,” you admitted. “Tastes like sour cardboard.”

But you took the plate anyway.

“Want to sit?” you offered a place next to you on the bench, before Frank could scurry off. “I doubt doing Soldier Boy’s bidding is more fun than ignoring me for a few minutes.”

You could tell he was about to leave anyway. So you tried one more thing.

“He’d probably want you to watch me,” you pointed out. “Make sure I don’t choke on a grape or something.”

Frank’s mouth twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile. After a moment of indecision, he surprised you by sitting down with you. You’d been trying to get Frank to talk to you for days, but he was definitely the strong and silent type. The good soldier, following his orders.

You were a curious person by nature, but more than that, you wanted to know what kind of men your captors were. You weren’t just learning Soldier Boy. You had to learn his team too.

So you offered Frank a grape. He met you with a raised brow, but he didn’t take it. You shrugged and popped it into your mouth.

“So,” you started, tucking into your sandwich next. “Ex-military, turned private sector?”

Frank shot you another look. He was older than you, though not quite old enough to be your father. He could have been around M.M.’s age.

“You carry yourself like an military man. Marine maybe,” you guessed.

Frank sighed and gave a short nod. “Good guess.”

“My father was a Marine,” you said. And that was the truth. Military men ran in your family—from your father to your grandfather, though you’d never met the latter. He’d died of liver and kidney failure, thanks to good old-fashioned alcoholism.

Frank snorted. “My condolences.”

You eyed him with a small smile. “You got a family? Wife and kids?”

He hesitated, casting his gaze ahead. You sensed it was a question with a potentially loaded answer, so you let it be.

“Yeah,” you said. “I know the feeling, being married to your job. Harder to quit than heroin.”

When you offered him another grape, this time, he actually took one.

Being able to tell between night and day somehow told your body that the night was no longer for sleeping. So your wandering continued that night.

Moonlight poured through the tall windows outlooking the garden, but most of the mansion was dark and eerie and all but silent, except for some quiet rain pattering outside.

It’s like an episode of Scooby Doo in here, you thought with a shiver. The long halls were empty and mostly dark, with just a few dim wall lights along the way. Still, you’d rather be alone than run into one of Soldier Boy’s goons, or even the man himself.

But you wanted to rejoice when you found the kitchen. Finally, you could put together a meal for yourself that wasn’t a damn sandwich.

Both the pantry and fridge were fully stocked with expensive-looking ingredients. At the moment though, you weren’t so hungry for a heavy meal as you were for a snack. Maybe something for your incurable sweet tooth.

You rifled through and found something you recognized: a family-sized tray of Chips Ahoy.

Ooh, success! With a grin, you ripped open the top and rifled through the cupboards for a glass.

“The hell’re you doing?”

You jumped with a yelp at the voice that startled you. You looked over your shoulder and frowned in annoyance when you noted Soldier Boy in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame. A snappish retort was on your tongue, but at the last moment, you held onto the threads of your temper.

Don’t be difficult, you reminded yourself, however much the thought grated.

“Midnight snack,” you replied, nodding to the open parcel of cookies. “Want some?”

You took out two glasses without looking at him, but you could hear him approach. When you went to the fridge to look for some milk, you noticed him take a seat at the kitchen island in front of you, where there were three stools.

“What’re you, a fucking eight-year-old?” he remarked. You raised a brow at him and took no less than five cookies from the tray.

“You’re never too old for milk and cookies,” you said sagely. You were a proud dunker, and you did so until your cookie was half-soggy with milk. You shoved an entire one into your mouth and looked him in the eyes when you did it.

His lips tugged upwards, dryly amused, while his gaze not-so-subtly raked over your form. You almost rolled your eyes, but you resisted. He could take in your oversized shirt and sweats all he wanted.

“‘S that a man’s shirt?” he asked.

“Yeah. Not a lot to pick from here at the Holiday Inn,” you quipped. You were running out of clean items that would actually fit you, and you weren’t about to run around here in some of the slutty shit you’d found.

“Can’t sleep?” You distracted him with the question, then slid a glass of milk in front of him. Regardless of what he said, he’d glanced at those cookies twice.

This was an opportunity, you thought. A chance to get into his head, see what the fuck made him tick.

Soldier Boy eyed the milk, then you. After a moment, he grabbed a cookie and took a bite. He didn’t answer your question, and instead asked one of his own.

“How’d you get caught up with Butcher?” he asked.

You smiled behind your glass. It seemed he was curious about you too.

“I work at Supe Affairs.” That was easy enough for you to admit. And if he was smart, he would’ve had Frank run a background check on you.

Soldier Boy snorted. “Yeah, I figured that fucking much. Doesn’t answer my fucking question.”

So damn rude. You wanted to sigh.

“I help run surveillance,” you said. But before he could ask his next predictable question, you continued, “Grace Mallory recruited me because I was a private investigator…and like you, I worked at Vought for a while.”

His attention piqued at that.

“Though your tenure was a bit before my time,” you couldn’t help a light jab.

His lips curved again. “Why’d you take a job you couldn’t hope to win? You got some vendetta against me, like Butcher?”

You arched a brow, watching him shove another cookie into his mouth. If anyone had a vendetta against him it was M.M., but trust Soldier Boy to conveniently forget murdering the man’s grandfather.

“You’re asking if I’m obsessed with you? I think not,” you said with a genuine chuckle, then sipped at your milk with some decency. Unlike your companion, who already had a pile of soggy crumbs on the counter beneath him.

Soldier Boy shot you a frown, and his eyes said he didn’t believe you. He sat back in his chair, his jean-clad legs falling open casually. His gaze on you, however, was anything but. You wouldn’t admit it, but it made heat creep up the back of your neck.

“Really?” he said. “‘Cause I gotta tell ya, sweetheart. During your slutty little seduction act, you were pretty fucking responsive.”

He rubbed his palms slow down his thighs, like he could still feel yours wrapped around his hips and grinding your hot core against his slacks.

You stared back at him as your lips pressed together.

Soldier Boy tilted his head at you, his smile turning smug. “The filthy sounds I was getting outta you…”

You set down your glass on the counter. Reaching for another cookie, you rested your elbows on the counter and leveled him with a teasing smile of your own.

“Unlike you, Ben, I’m a good actor,” you replied.

His brow twitched at that, however subtle. You couldn’t tell if using his real name annoyed him, or if it just added to the game you two were playing. But it felt right, stripping him of at least that façade.

He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t even a superhero, really. He was just a man.

Albeit, a super fucking strong one with an ego the size of Empire State. But a man. The same kind you’d dealt with all your life.

And he crossed his arms, like he was starting to lose his patience with you.

“Then why’d you come out here?”

Munching on a dry chocolate chip, you answered, “To get paid. Why else?”

Again, it didn’t look like he believed you.

“You don’t look the type,” he said.

“Don’t I?” you said. He seemed to know you were holding something back, but not willing to admit he wanted to know it.

And you weren’t willing to give it to him. He didn’t need to know that you’d taken this job to support your family. Because what the hell would he know about family?

…But at the same time, his curiosity just made it all the clearer: in whatever small way, you’d piqued his interest. He wanted to figure you out.

And maybe that was the real reason you were still alive.

It started to happen like that more often.

Midnight snacks, as you’d continued to call it in your head. When you couldn’t take being alone with your thoughts (or being alone at all), if you made your way to the kitchen you often found Ben.

Whatever was keeping him awake, he seemed to crave the company as you rifled through the pantry. From alfajores, macarons, and chips, to the entire leftover ham from dinner, he often smoked a large blunt and ate whatever you found.

You’d taken a hit once when he offered, but the shit was so strong than you abstained afterwards. You wanted to be in your fully right mind around him.

And you talked—about the old-ass TV shows he never got to see the end of, and the new music he hated. You’d enjoyed (gently) teasing him about being an old man who didn’t understand Cardi B when you played it on his phone. You suspected he didn’t quite understand how all the bells and whistles worked on an iPhone yet. (But he’d taken it back from you before you could text anyone.)

“In my day, there was a little more fucking class,” he’d said. “Sinatra. Nat King Cole. Christ, the fucking Beatles.”

You’d rolled your eyes at that. You liked all those guys too, actually. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t bang out all the words to “Bodak Yellow” and “Please Me.”

You also talked about the movies he missed out on. The ones you thought he’d probably enjoy, like the Terminator sequels and Liam Neeson’s Taken (if only for the sheer irony). And all the while, he asked you probing questions he likely thought were subtle.

“What did you do at Vought?” he asked over chips and salsa.

You thought the salsa was a bit too spicy, but he was lapping it up. It both amused and disgusted you.

Until he licked some of it off his fingers. Catching your gaze, his became mischievous. He slid his fingers out of his mouth with an obscene noise. All the while, his deep green eyes held yours.

You would never admit to being turned on, but you felt your cheeks warming up as you fought not to react, watching the juices drip down his fingers.

“I ran down criminals for the supes to ‘catch’ them,” you managed to reply. “They just got to do the sweeping in part.”

“Lazy shits,” he remarked, licking off the remaining salsa from his hand. You tried not to focus on the sight of his tongue. Afterwards, he gave you reprieve by wiping his hands on a paper towel.

What the fuck is wrong with me? You inwardly shook your head at yourself.

“Back in my day, we actually ran down our own leads,” he said. “Sure, we got tips every now and then, but we did our own busts.”

You didn’t know how much of that you could believe, considering he’d never even fought in World War II, despite his numerous claims of pounding Nazis up the ass.

“How’d you end up there, anyway?” he asked.

“Vought paid more than private practice,” you wryly replied.

He eyed you then. “And before?”

Before? Was he just bored, or did he genuinely want to know about your life?

Still, this was starting to veer into things you’d rather not talk about.

“Worked for my dad’s P.I. firm,” you said, making an effort to untighten your spine. “I learned what I know from him.”

That much was the truth, though you hadn’t spoken to him in over a year.

Ben chortled, making you frown. “‘A’ for fucking effort there, sweetheart.”

You huffed. Yes, you did realize the irony of being kidnapped by the man you’d hunted down (sort of). Didn’t mean he had to be such an asshole about it.

“He must be fucking proud,” he added. Your gaze sharpened with irritation.

“Like your dad was proud of you?” out came your pointed reply, before you could stop yourself.

His amusement faded, likely as he stared back at you and saw that you knew for a fact what he’d told Butcher.

A fucking disappointment.

He didn’t bother lying, but his lip curled into a sneer.

“Be careful, sweetheart,” he warned. You heard the underlying threat in his voice. You forced yourself to keep your mouth shut, lowering your eyes. The act was grating on you, boiling your blood.

But it seemed to mollify him enough. He let out a low chuckle.

“I’ll let that one go,” he said. “Next time, I might not be so fucking nice.”

You believed him.

It was a week of this, before you finally found out the hard way where Ben’s room was.

You were wandering down a long hallway on the second floor, over in the west wing of the house. Your room was in the east, so you really hadn’t seen this side of the mansion before. The problem was, all these halls were looking the same to you.

And now you had no idea how to get back to the main hall, where by now you could navigate downstairs to the kitchen, the back garden, the pool hall, a study room (with several shelves of books), a gym, and even an indoor movie theater.

Suddenly, you thought you heard a woman’s voice, high and giggly. What the hell?

Your natural curiosity led you farther down the hall, where you could see light and movement beneath the closed door. Whatever (and whoever) was in there, you really should just let it be.

You’d been able to successfully avoid Ben for the past few days, and you didn’t feel like dealing with the headache of another encounter with him—for as long as you could manage it.

So you were just about to turn back and keep on your merry way.

But when you heard a slap, followed by a feminine cry of pain, you halted in your step. With your brows crunching in concern, you couldn’t help but approach the door again. You leaned in to listen.

Another slap, another pained mewling from the girl. Your mouth turned down in an angry frown of alarm.

What the fuck is going on? You didn’t know what kind of sick shit he was into, but if he was hurting some poor girl for his own entertainment, you knew you couldn’t just walk away.

After one more second of hesitation, you gripped the door handle and shoved it open.

What you found seared your eyes.

In unblinking shock, you took in the shambled state of Ben’s room. Clothes strewn haphazardly about, remnants of lines of coke on the coffee table, plates of half-eaten delicacies left on a wheeled in buffet, bottles of liquor, half-empty glasses and shots rolling around.

And a California king bed occupied the center, where the sheets and pillows had fallen off while Soldier Boy fucked no less than five prostitutes. All looked to be of various ethnicities and a wide age range. The oldest of them looked saggy enough to be in her seventies, but she was working as hard and skillfully as the rest of them.

One of the younger ones, maybe around your age, was getting spanked by one of his large hands while another girl’s head bobbed over his lap with gusto. The other three were finding things to do, whether on the man himself, or to each other in front of him on the bed.

In reality, you probably took all this in for just a few seconds.

But a gasp fell unbidden from your lips, along with a “Jesus fucking Christ!”

Ben looked like he had been working up a mild sweat. Broken from his concentration though, he glanced up at you. And then the broadest, Cheshire cat fucking grin spread across his face.

“Hey, baby doll,” he greeted mischievously. “You here to join in? Here, tag in for, uh…what’s your name again, sweetheart?”

He looked down and grabbed the shoulder of the girl in his lap. She released his cock out of her mouth for a second to answer, “Jasmine.”

“Sure,” he said with a nod. Then he frowned and gestured to his still rock-hard dick. Your eyes widened in shock—both at the audacity, and at the size of it. You blushed hotly.

“But don’t fucking stop now, Jesus,” he said to the girl. And he looked over at you with a raised brow. “Unless you wanna jump in…but seriously, don’t make me wait all fuckin’ day here.”

Your face contorted in disgust.

“There’s not enough fucking therapy for this,” you muttered.

Then you fled the room, slamming the door behind you so hard that it rattled. It still didn’t muffle his laughter behind the door.

Your face, neck, and the tips of your ears were on fire as you hastened down the hall.

By the time you got to the kitchen, you could even hear your rapid heartbeat in your ears. You set a hand over your chest and felt the thump, thump, thumping under your palm.

Images continued to flash through your mind—naked flesh, bouncing tits, shockingly adept wrinkled hands. And then the man’s chiseled bare form, planes of tanned skin over muscle, and strong-looking hands.

Fucking hell. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of your brain’s ongoing loop, but it was a losing battle. With a long and frustrated sigh, you reached into the fridge and grabbed all the ingredients you needed to make a damn sandwich.

You knew Ben had hired a personal chef (Simone, you thought her name was), but you were pretty sure she was currently part of the service the supe entourage today.

You slapped together a turkey and provolone sandwich with some lettuce, mayo, and a pickle for added “razzle dazzle.”

Though on second thought, you put the pickle back.

With an aggravated huff, you stood at the counter and tore into your dinner (you were too angry to sit at this point). You devoured half of it and nearly a whole bag of Doritos by the time that cocky bastard strolled in like the cat that got the cream, and clearly, more than once.

He looked freshly showered, and finally clothed in casual pants and a buttoned down shirt, rolled up on the sleeves.

Ben eyed you with a smirk. You raised a brow at him.

“That was fast,” you remarked. “I expected you to be in that fuck dungeon all night.”

“I wouldn’t call it a dungeon,” he said, leaning on the other side of the counter opposite you. “More like a cellar of fine delectables.”

You snorted. “All right, Hugh Hefner. I want to scrub my eyes with bleach.”

“Didn’t look that way from where I was sitting, doll face,” he quipped. His brow rose at you with a salacious, curling smile. You leveled him with a look.

“At the very least, you would’ve ended that little dry spell of yours,” he added playfully.

Your gaze sharpened at that. You dropped your sandwich on the plate to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

“What’s it been?” he asked, leaning closer into your personal space with a more knowing grin. “Don’t really fucking tell me it’s been three years since somebody’s laid you out right.”

Despite your outrage at his audacity, your mouth fell open the slightest bit.

“What…”

Again, he eyed your form, and not subtly at that. Today you’d found a pair of jeans that you’d managed to squeeze into. The polo shirt clinging to your waist and ribs and tight across your breasts wasn’t helping you either.

But you were honestly surprised he could still be looking at you like that when he’d just been doing some Olympic-level fucking.

Your spine tightened nervously when he straightened to his full height, walking around the kitchen counter towards you. His hand slid across the surface, his head tilting at you in amusement.

“It’s amazing what you can hear on shitty hotel roofs,” he said.

Your eyes widened when you understood what he was getting at. When you were on the phone with your sister…

“Maybe then you’ll—and let me not shock you here—meet someone,” Louisa had said. “And finally put an end to that three-year goddamn dry spell.”

And that prickly feeling you’d felt then, licking up your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck…

“You were watching me,” you realized.

Ben just looked down on you with a deepening smirk. His green eyes were alight with mischief, and yeah, probably lust too.

“You fucking creep,” you said, with both a sigh and a roll of your eyes (despite your growing blush).

He chuckled and raised a hand to lightly grip your chin. “That’s not very nice.”

You glared up at him, too angry and stubborn to remember to mind your temper. He seemed to like it though, working you up. He teased and prodded you enough, almost like a little boy trying to get a girl’s attention. Except this one was the most powerful supe alive.

So why does he like it so much, this stupid cat and mouse thing?

Not for the first time, you wondered why he decided to keep you around. And you had a feeling it wasn’t just to bait your friends. Maybe he just liked toying with you, seeing how far he could push until you snapped.

And then what? you wondered.

Though if you were honest with yourself…you were just as into this little game as he was, albeit for different reasons. You wanted to understand him.

At first, it was the job. Know the man you’re after.

But now, it was more. Knowing Soldier Boy, getting to know Ben would be the key to making it out of this situation alive. You just knew it…if only he didn’t make it so damn frustrating.

“Seriously, tell me,” he said, still with a deceptively light grip on your chin. The pad of his thumb brushed your full lower lip, making your breath hitch. He glanced down at your mouth, then back into your eyes.

“How fucking long’s it been since that pretty pussy’s been touched?” he asked. “‘Cause in my opinion, that’s a crying shame.”

For a moment, your breath got stuck in your throat. You felt a hot blush rising in your cheeks, down your neck…and maybe warmth between your legs at the mere suggestion.

You inwardly steeled yourself, clamping down on your anger and your embarrassment. Instead, you leveled him with a cool smile.

“Not forty years, I’ll tell you that,” you said.

While he raised a brow, he let you slowly push his hand away. You left him in the kitchen soon after, but he watched you go. Whether you meant to or not, the sway in your hips and your delectable ass in those tight fucking jeans made his dick twitch.

Figures, he thought, that you’d get all fucking huffy. He shrugged and picked up half the sandwich you left behind.

You found nothing else for your frustration but to head outside.

With a sigh, you sat down at the edge of the massive pool and just dipped your legs in. You didn’t have a swimsuit, and you didn’t want to take any chances by getting your clothes wet around here. Or even worse, stripping down to your bra and underwear.

You blushed at the memory of Ben’s proximity, his touch, his rich, teasing voice that dripped with lustful promise. And that just reminded you of the scenes from his room, which flashed in your mind every so often like a bad porno.

Shit. You absently bit at one of your nails. Ben had also heard that entire conversation with your sister. That meant he knew about her, and that gave you no small amount of anxiety.

But he already had you. He hadn’t tried to extort you for anything (yet). You knew though, that if he threatened Luisa, or tried to use her to manipulate you in any way, there wasn’t much you could do but play along, like everything else.

Right now, anyway…

You noticed a dark shape out of the corner of your eye, and for a moment you were annoyed, ready to tell Ben to give you a moment’s peace.

But it wasn’t him. It was Tony standing near the end of the pool. He must’ve been freed from desk duty, or whatever Ben had him doing while he presumably recovered from his injuries.

“What up, Tony?” you greeted, unable to resist a teasing smile when you noticed the large boot for his broken foot. Now plus a few extra bruises from your last tussle. They were dark, but yellowing around the edges.

His lips twitched at a cold smile. “They’re letting the little mouse out of her room now?”

You shrugged, smirking.

“You look good,” you replied. “How’re the balls though? Still broken?”

Tony expression tightened into a glare. “You better watch it, bitch.”

“Or what?” you challenged.

There was enough distance between you and him across the pool for you to feel comfortable, but really, you weren’t too afraid of Tony.

Yeah, he was a dick. But you’d taken him down before. You could literally break his balls again if he needed more encouragement to fuck off.

Tony just smirked back at you, deciding to leave you alone for now. You watched him head back into the house with sharp eyes. He wouldn’t take you by surprise again.

Frank was waiting for you when you got back to your room. You were more relieved to see him than you’d like to admit, and you greeted him with a genuine smile, before you noticed the shopping bags in his hands.

“What’s this?” you asked. Frank dutifully handed you the bags, and inside you found new clothes. They actually seemed to be your size.

You looked up at Frank, both shocked and grateful. “You got me clothes?”

“Boss’s orders,” he revealed. Your brows rose high at that.

“He told you to do this?”

Frank expelled a breath through his nose, hesitating, like he was debating how to frame his reply.

“He provided them,” he said. It felt like a confession, one that made your eyes widen at the implication.

Soldier Boy bought you new clothes?

You didn’t know how to compute on this one, honestly. But you still answered with a tentative, “Oh. Well…thanks.”

He nodded, and soon left you with your thoughts and your spoils. You went into your room and dumped the bags onto the bed so you could examine their contents.

There were casual shirts and yoga pants, a couple pairs of jeans, some sneakers, thank God. All the bras and panties, however, were lacey and expensive.

You shook your head with a smile, eyeing the labels. This man really went to Victoria’s Secret to buy you new underwear.

It was both kind and somewhat sleazy, knowing he was going to be imagining you in the sexy, but admittedly tasteful lingerie.

The “kind” part took you by surprise though. The clothes overall weren’t revealing or obnoxious. Even the underwear and bras were in styles you’d probably wear, under normal circumstances.

So you put together an outfit out of one of the shirts and a pair of jeans, breathing a sigh of relief when you could peel the old ones off.

This was a far cry from bullying and annoying you, and generally being an arrogant son of a bitch.

The truth was, Ben was confusing you.

Perhaps now more than ever.

AN: 🤭 Well, one would argue that she saw more sides of Ben than she thought she would (or wanted to). 😜

Let me know what you thought of this chapter! Things are definitely going to ramp up in the next one...

Keep Reading: PART 6

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#Morning night and day #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy fic #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 5 #zepskies writes

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gemstone-roses · 11 months ago

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Christmas fic party request:

Where reader is an fbi tech (post red John) and shoots her shot at Jane at the Xmas party. Smut. Lots of smut. Very comforting because I just imagine him being SO lovely. Age difference mentioned.

Patrick Jane x female reader

Summary: your feeling brave, the man you’ve been pining for is older than you, surely he’s not interested in you, right? Smut. 18+ only,protected sex, praise kink, lots of praise, eye contact , so much praise ugh I’m mad for this man okay! I’m begging people to send in more requests for him 🙏🙏

Warnings: explicit smut, 18 plus ONLY. Smut, protected sex, praise kink x10. Fingering. Pet names, Minors be gone from here!

A:N - I’m super proud of this one. Thankyou for requesting I hope you liked it 🥹🥹please feel free to request more for Patrick Jane too!! ❤️

The wince on your face as you glance around the room is prominent. You only came tonight for one reason. And he’s not here.

Your colleagues are busy getting merry, rigsby and van pelt wearing matching Christmas jumpers and paper hats. The music is so loud you can feel it coursing through you.

Jane had seen your mood dip around the holidays and he had made you promise you would at least show your face. You agreed solely because he said he would accompany you and your heart fluttered at his offer. The small touch he left on your elbow, the reassurance in his face when he said ‘I’ll be with you the whole time’ had you screaming internally.

You weren’t the newest member of the team, but you were quite a bit younger than Jane, and as he is so observant you did your absolute best to keep your crush on him secret.

It had been a long few years.

Fed up of the party, you duck out and find yourself wandering straight into something tall and hard.

Patrick

“Oh shit I’m so- you start, blinking at him as you try and play it off.

“Are you okay?” He asks rubbing your arm soothingly.

It seems your brain has short circuited as you just stare at him, he looks good, so good.

“Hey” he says softly, moving his hand to cup your face.

“Hey Jane” you squeak out, praying he can’t tell how flustered you are.

His brows crease at you, his thumb runs across the curve of your cheek and you cannot take this anymore so you bring your hand up to connect with the hand that’s on your face.

His eyes bore into yours as you wait for him to pull his hand away.

But he doesn’t.

“Jane, I- I need to tell you something I - you whisper closing your eyes as you speak.

“I know” he says lowly

“You what!” You say, horrified, eyes shooting open as heat rises to your face.

You try and turn away but he stops you, hands flying to your waist, gripping tightly.

Your lips part slightly as you take in the man in front of you. He smiles, leans forward and

Runs his thumb across your lip and once again your brain short circuits, you think you might die right there. There’s no way he doesn’t feel the way your pulse starts picking up and your eyes blow wide at his action.

“Jane?” You ask, voice cracking

“Yeah honey?” His voice slightly deeper, it makes your pussy clench and your heart soar.

“I love you” you say, and for a moment you panic thinking he doesn’t feel the same and then he closes his eyes and sighs, before pulling you in closer

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that” he growls.

He searches your face for any kind of hesitation and you nod, he smiles as he shakes his head.

“Use your words my darling”

“Hurry up and kiss me, please” you whine,

Your breath hitches as he cups your face again and brings his lips to yours. His lips are soft, he presses into you as he deepens the kiss.

You can’t help but let out a moan as he presses into you, it’s comforting, safe, and leaves you wanting more.

“Patrick” you whisper, as he reluctantly breaks the kiss, his hand comes back to cup your face, finger stroking slowly down your cheek.

“You okay?” He checks.

You nod a bit too quickly, and he chuckles.

“Shall we, go somewhere more private?” He whispers as he leans in to place a feather light kiss to your neck.

“God, yes” you mutter. He grabs your hand instantly and leads you up to his room above the office.

“It’s cold in here” you mutter as he shuts the door to his living space, instantly his arms are around you again, catching your lips in a searing kiss he cages you against the wall. One of his arms rest on the wall, the other tracing down to your waist. Your chest heaves as he teases his fingers up and down underneath your shirt.

“Please” you whine and he smirks, dipping his hand beneath the waistband.

“God your dripping” he murmurs rubbing your throbbing pussy through your panties. You clench your thighs together at his actions, and his words.

“Jane” you croak, desperate, needy.

“I love the sound of my name falling from your lips” he breathes, making you look at him before moving your panties and sliding in a finger.

It’s agonisingly slow, and of course Patrick can tell your getting frustrated with his teasing.

He speeds up a bit before adding another finger, your walls flutter around his fingers.

“Mm, Jane fuck” you whisper, he increases the pressure and starts to curl his fingers up as they enter you. His thumb comes to circle your clit and he catches your moan with a kiss.

“D-don’t stop” you moan as he presses his thumb into your clit as he curls his fingers hitting your G spot.

“Oh OH god” you whine

“That’s it honey” he soothes, breaking the kiss as your walls clench around his fingers.

“Jane” you say as you feel your orgasm approaching

“Come for me, that’s it, good girl” he says as he curls his fingers once more and you see stars as your orgasm crashes over you.

He holds you steady, fingers lazily pushing in and out of you as he fingers you through your orgasm.

“You okay”? He whispers placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You nod and he pulls you into his embrace.

“God that was- incredible” you pant, leaning in to give him a kiss.

He pulls you gently towards his bed.

He pushes you gently and you fall back

“Lie down” he whispers, he’s out of breath and it’s so arousing you can’t help the throb that courses through you.

Patrick unbuttons his suit jacket, hanging it up on the chair he climbs on top of you. Once again you feel safe within his presence.

His arms come to rest on either side of your head, he looks down at you, a soft smile on his face.

“Stop it” you say, trying to turn away from his stare.

“Don’t, don’t do that, your beautiful, let me see you yeah?” he tilts your face to look at him, as if you could love this man any more.

“Would you like to stop?” He asks and his face tells you that he would not mind one bit if you said yes, which just makes your heart pound faster in your chest.

“No, I’d very much like to continue” you say. And Jane runs his hand across your face, smiling.

You can feel Jane’s cock pressing into your leg through his jeans and you shift your hips slightly. He sucks in a breath as you sit up to undo his belt.

You do it slowly, payback. But it doesn’t last long as he ends up pulling it off himself before guiding you to lie back down.

He stands up and removes his pants before coming back and resting his hands at the top of yours.

He waits.

You nod.

He pulls down your pants and can’t help but moan at the wet patch in the middle of your underwear.

Your breath hitches as he leans down and presses his lips into your clothed pussy and hooks his fingers in the line of your panties and pulls them down.

Jane frees his hard cock from his boxers and it springs up against his stomach. A drop of precum glistening on the head.

You clench your thighs at the sight. Jane reaches for the condom under his bed and rolls it down.

He pumps his cock a few times before lining up with your entrance.

You breathe in as you prepare.

Jane’s hand find your clit once more,he watches your face as his fingers circle your clit. You relax slightly as he continues his actions.

“Hey” he says softly

“I’m okay” you say.

“Take a deep breath for me darling” he places one hand on your lower stomach and the other wraps around his cock.

You do, and he slides his cock into you, slowly.

“Good girl, keep breathing for me” he soothes as he pushes his cock all the way in. Your breath catches in your throat as he pushes deeper into you.

“Keep looking at me” he says and you throb around him.

“You’re doing so good for me” he praises as he goes to rub your clit again.

“Patrick” you whisper

“Can you- I need you to go-

“I know, I know” he coos, rubbing your hips with his hand,

“I’ll go slow, I got you” he soothes before thrusting into you slowly. One of his hands is still splayed across your stomach.

“Mmhm” you whine.

“You feel so good around my cock like this” he says, pushing his cock in and out, he feels you clench around him as he speaks.

You close your eyes as he angles himself a little differently, still thrusting slowly, but his cock is hitting your g spot.

“Patrick- fuck” you choke out.

“Mm, you make the prettiest sounds” he breathes, every moan out of you sending him closer to release.

He moves his hand from your stomach as he reaches for your puffy clit, gently applying pressure as he thrusts into you.

“Patrick, I’m-

“Look at me, good girl, come for me, come all over my cock” he encourages as he presses into you again.

You hear him groan just as his cock twitched inside you and your pussy clenches,

Your toes curl and you see stars as your orgasm washes over you. Your ears ring as you hear muffled praise falling from Patrick’s mouth as you come down from your high.

“So good for me, you did so good, you’re incredible my love” he soothes, rubbing gentle circles into your hip.

You whimper underneath him. He places his hands on either side of your face.

“Jane, that was - god that was perfect you say a lazy smile painting your face. A big smile lights up his face, “I love you” he says, placing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“I’ve wanted to say that for a very long time” he admits.

“Me too” you say shy all of a sudden, turning your face from him.

He tuts

“No honey, what did I say about doing that, now, I’ll get you a warm towel and some water and I’ll be back in a moment” he soothes as he gets up.

And you, couldn’t be happier.

#patrick jane x reader #Patrick jane imagine #Patrick Jane fanfiction #the mentalist imagine #the mentalist fanfiction #gems Christmas fics

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anemonelovesfiction · 5 months ago

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18~ Trapped Together

Aged Up! Rotxo x Fem! Human Reader

Warnings ⚠️: P! In V!, light mentions of eating out, light mentions of handjob

Not Proofread

MDNI 🔞

This was a hard one to come up with and I feel it was rushed? What do you guys think?

Word Count: 2k

I’m human.

He’s Na’Vi.

How convenient was it that we’d both chosen the same hiding spot to avoid getting caught after Spider had introduced everyone to the game of hide and seek. I placed my hand on my beating heart in an attempt to calm myself after having found him in here, his head and ears had perked up as soon as my frightened squeak had left my lips, although he had already been looking in my direction as I’m sure my footsteps had made him aware of my presence.

“I did not mean to scare you,” He sweetly proclaims as he holds both of his giant hands out to show he meant no harm, its funny how there are some parallels within our species when it comes to expressing things.

“I can find another place to hide since you were already-“ I pause as he raises the back of his hand to touch his lips in an attempt to get me to stop talking, all I could do was stare dumbfounded until hearing the slightest echo come through the cave.

“Is anybody in there?” Tuk’s tiny voice bounces through the cave and I can feel the hairs from my body standing up as if I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t have. I can feel my body stiffen and my eyes widen as I look over at Rotxo whose mimicking my movements, a shiver runs past my spine as I hear her footsteps and am unsure if she’s attempting to walk into the cave or if she’s decided to walk away.

“If you leave now you will get caught.” Rotxo whispers, but it was kind of obvious, Tuk’s curious nature would lead her in the cave to double check if anyone else was in there since she’d failed to investigate in the first place and that would count against both teams.

This wouldn’t have mattered had we been playing a normal game of hide-and-seek, but we weren’t. Spider had decided to make a bet between the Omatikaya and Metkayina, whichever party got captured in its entirety would have to do the other players chores for a week. Knowing Rotxo’s playful nature he wouldn’t want to be the first one caught from his own team, but he also knew how Tuk’s brain worked, hence his willingness to share this hiding spot.

“You’re only saying that so you don’t get caught and cost your team a point.” I whispered back with an amused look in my eyes, withholding my laughter, a smile playing at my lips as I stared into his gorgeous honey-green eyes. His own small smile making an appearance.

“Want to play our own game until they give up on finding us?” He suggests, I could honestly use a distractor to keep me from getting bored, plus the longer we played the more I could bond with him and not have to rely on staying friends with the younger children who were more open and curious about being close to a human, Tsireya was open but was often busy teaching many children how to dive.

_________

The game was called nervous and you got five seconds to touch the other person somewhere on their body to make them nervous, and considering the size of his hands compared to mine, he was bound to touch my entire body in two turns! Okay maybe not two, but it would be pretty damn close.

His innocent and adorable face mixed with his not-so-innocent touching was what got us into our current make out session, my lungs were burning and begging me to put my mask back on but I couldn’t bring myself to care, just a few more seconds, I’d learned to hold my breath like everyone else and my body was craving more intimate touches.

But it didn’t take long for him to slide my mask onto my face right as he’d disconnected his lips from mine and I’d decided to take in a big breath of air at that moment, my body somehow having landed on his lap.

“You have to stop waiting too long between breaths, Y/n.” He stated sternly although the amusement danced around his eyes, one of his hands on my waist and the other on the back of my head to hold the mask steady. I could only stare between his eyes and his mouth before he eventually got the hint and playfully rolled his eyes.

“How much longer are we going to keep playing this game?” I asked although I didn’t seem to mind playing it.

“Are you bored of it already?” He asks with his head tilting to the side some.

“I think I want to play something else,” I shift in his lap and hear him inhale through his nose, feeling the softest of bulges beginning to poke me, knowing exactly what I was doing “And it feels like you do too.”

It hadn’t taken long for him to undress me, his fingers had carefully grazed along my flesh every once in a while, causing goosebumps to erupt in their wake. The softest of flicks of his tongue along my breast and the rest of my body, most importantly my pussy, had a dizzying affect on me and easily had my head dragging along the floor of the cave making a mess of my hair.

My own hands had looked comically small in comparison to his cock but at that moment I hadn’t cared, as I attempted to wrap one hand around it and struggling until I brought my other hand up for assistance. The amount of precome leaking from the tip as I teased his head was surprising, enough for me to manage to spread it around his entire shaft, then again given their size and how gifted the metkayina men appeared to be, I should have expected it.

“I do not want to finish yet-“ He gently pries my hands off of him, I look up at him through my mask and nod gently, tempted to lick the precome off my hands but stopping myself as it meant I’d have to take my mask off.

“Why don’t you lay down for me?” He suggests with a half smile and I smile shyly back at him, laying myself down onto the floor of the cave, some sand having snuck in and prickling my skin lightly.

I’m carefully holding the upper half of my body up by using my elbows for balance as he kneels down, placing his own hands between mine.

“Take a breath,” He states as one of his hands come up from between our bodies, carefully taking a hold of the bottom of my mask, I take a deep breath in and feel him lift the mask off me, his lips coming onto mine.

He slowly uses his lips to push against my mouth, causing me to lower myself onto the floor, feeling his other hand slowly trail down my side, grasping my hip and gently squeezing it, pulling back from our kiss and placing the mask back on my face.

“Are you ready?” He asks sweetly and all I could do was nod, one of his hands coming back to tuck itself under my chin, forcing it upright, making my eyes meet his.

“Words, please.”

“I am ready,”

“Will you tell me if I hurt you?” He asks sweetly and it makes my heart melt.

“You are rather tiny, compared to your body, I am kind of big,” He points at myself and himself respectively. I could only place my hand on his to get him to look back over at me.

“I promise I will tell you if it hurts too much.” I stated honestly, my hand going from his over toward his cheek, taking my own mask off and kissing him before placing the mask back on.

He nods once and shifts his weight between his knees on the floor, his cock still hard and leaking precome, bobbing lightly at his movements. I lay myself down and watch as he cages my body in with his, one of his hands going down to stroke his cock twice before placing himself up against me, slowly pushing in.

I could feel myself stretch to accommodate to his size, a huge sigh leaving my lips, I could see his head moving fast and his ears flickering before facing me, eyes checking mine for any sign of pain.

“I’m fine, keep going,” I urged, one of his hands cupping my mask where my cheek was.

“I promise,” I repeated again with a nod.

I could see him wince lightly before slowly pushing his hips back in, grazing against a special spot making me moan loudly, hearing it echo around the cave as he continues pushing in.

“Feel good?” He asks and I could almost hear the smirk in his voice, I could only answer with a sharp cry as he continues grazing against that same spot. I could finally feel his hips against my own, his balls slapping against my ass lightly.

At some point I must have wrapped my legs around his waist as I attempt to push myself into him to feel more of his cock pushing inside me, feeling giddy as I did so, my heart rate accelerating.

“More,” I stumbled to think in Na’Vi but managed to utter that word out, feeling cock drunk at the moment, and feeling him sliding out while gliding against the same spot had me seeing stars, I grunted as I attempted to grind my hips upward but failed at meeting his thrust back in, only howling in pleasure as he did, my voice bouncing around the cave.

“Shh, you do not want them to catch us, do you?” He whispers in my ear and I bring my bottom lip up between my teeth to hush myself at that moment, biting down harder as he thrusts back in, the distinct sound of his balls slapping on my skin being heard.

“I’m close-“ I huff out and close my eyes tightly as I feel the tip of his penis slightly kissing my womb.

“You’re very tight, you feel amazing,” He mumbles into my neck before feeling his canines nibble down onto my neck, causing me to clench down onto him, feeling his cock hitting the best spots inside me all over again.

“Rotxo I’m going to-“ I didn’t even get to fi ish that sentence as I came over his cock still thrusting deep into me, hearing him groan loudly at the feeling of my orgasm as he attempted to continue his previously set pace, failing to do so as he too comes. His cock spurting hot ropes of cum into my waiting womb, desperation filling him as he attempts to push his cock deep within me as he comes undone.

________

“Where are Rotxo and Y/n!” Ao’nung asks in a frustrated fashion after having been searching for the pair alongside the his sister, Lo’ak, Neteyam, Spider, and Kiri. Tuk had been following the big kids as they searched for the two missing from their group.

Everyone desperate to find the other person not belonging to their group in order to win the bet, and each side growing frustrated at not being able to find the other player.

“What about that cave?” Tsireya is quick to ask as she points toward it.

“Nobody was in there when I checked earlier.” Tuk pipes up as she twirls around on the sand before them, picking up one of the seashells from the floor and marveling at it’s beauty.

“Did you actually look inside or ask if anyone was in there before moving on?” Lo’ak asks with his hands crossed across his chest.

Tuk just shrugged it off as she continued picking up more shells off the ground, finding more interest in them than she had during her game of hide-and-seek. Her childlike wonder having gotten the best of her, making her forget all about the bet that was going on.

“You do know if both of them are in there this game ends in a tie, right?” Kiri asks as she attempts to not roll her eyes at Ao’nung and Lo’ak.

“So?” Ao’nung was quick to say.

“That means nobody does any extra chores.” Neteyam points out.

#heatwaveinpandora2024 #avatar #avatar smut #avatar the way of water smut #afab reader #human reader #avatar the way of water #rotxo smut #rotxo x y/n #rotxo x reader #rotxo #atwow rotxo #avatar rotxo

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ananashart · 12 days ago

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"What you need is a little distraction"

Loki x reader

Summary: Official parties are boring, luckily you know exactly what to do. Or, you sneak away with Loki.

Word count: 965

CW: the grammar is dead/eng isn't my first language

The night was boring. Dreadfully unamusing.

And while Thor and his four loyal friends were away, Loki had to attend the official party. All of this because of a bet he lost against them earlier that day. He knew he should have listened to himself and cheated during the game. He could still hear the taunting victory sound of Thor, the moment the blond had won, ringing in his ears. This misfortune had only reinforced his want to erase this troublesome party, the day he would be King.

"The party is here to preserve our relationships with the neighbors.” Had said Frigga once, explaining both to Thor and him the importance of organizing those events, politically and military speaking.

Loki couldn't care less about the neighborhood's world. His brother would have said that ‘it had to be done to keep Asgard above all’ while still not attending, the very same person who wanted the throne. This contradiction wasn't something the blond even tried to hide. He wanted to be king without the inconvenience of being one. And this was part of the many reasons Loki found himself to be more fit to have the crown on his head.

Unfortunately, he was living in Thor's shadow. The almighty Thor, God of thunder, son of the all father. While he was just Loki, the mischievous tricker, with a tongue made of silver. It was easy to see who was the favorite in people and their father’s eyes. And he knew, he knew perfectly he wasn't perfect. But Thor wasn't either. He was dumb, only thinking with his muscles, not looking at the entire picture, only wanting to fight, and fight, and fight. The blond was strong, stronger than Loki even, but being kind wasn't just about strengths. It was also about brains, something Loki was proud to have plenty of. No one could ever say that Loki wasn't smarter than his brother.

In Loki's mind, he was probably smarter than all the people present at this party. Except for his mother, and maybe, just maybe you. You, who had happened to spill your liquor on his fine asgardian's attire.

"I'm so sorry!" You exclaimed, falsely apologetic, putting your hand over your mouth. Something the prince perceived in an instant as lying was his expertise. “Please, let me clean it for you.” Putting your glasses aside, you took his hand in yours, leading the both of you away from the party.

All happened in a span of a few seconds, but it did not get Loki off guard. He knew what you were up to the moment your eyes laid on him. He had just been waiting for you.

“Well you sure did take your time love.”

Gasping and shaking your head, you answered à hint of banter at the back of your voice. “Excuse me, you highness. I was not aware of your precious time.”

“Plus, you didn't have to ruin my gracious clothes.” He remarked, drawing a small annoyed huff from you. "Thank you nonetheless, you saved me from a pathetic party. Again."

The castle's corridors were silent, only the sound of your footsteps echoing, filling the calm night, as Loki remembered how you both met in those exact circumstances.

It was a few years back, at the same uninteresting party. You were both bored out of your mind, standing to the side, a glass in hand looking at everyone being falsely nice to one another to maintain the peace. In a quest to entertain himself, Loki showed some easy tricks to some guests, ending up gathering a little crowd around him, looking in awe at his magic.

Green sparks that got your attention, as it was the first interesting thing happening. Looking from your spot, you saw the far away look in his green eyes, a detached look similar to yours, telling all you needed to know as you made your way to the prince, putting your empty glasses aside.

You were what some people would qualify as a bold one, and that night you did well to validate their saying. Getting near Loki with assured steps, you quickly snatched his hand in yours, as you passed through the little crowd in a flash.

You were leading the both of you as far away as possible from this suffocating party.

While Loki wasn't one to register people's presence, you caught his attention well, taking him by surprise even. Finally registering what was happening to him, he instantly halted, making you stop too, ripping his hand out of your grasp.

“And who do you think you are!?” He demanded, offended and irritated, eyebrows furrowed.

Turning around, hands on hips you answered calmly. "I'm (Y/N), and you could be a little more polite with the one who saved your night."

Crossing his arms against his chest, he scoffed, "I do not need any saving, even more from someone like you."

"Alright.” You challenged, mimicking him closing your own arms, one eyebrow raised and a small taunting smile drawing your lips, you continued. "Go back to the party then, I apologize for having ripped you from all the fun."

That was new for the prince, someone daring provoking him. He couldn't stop his lips shaping in a rather charming smile. “Why, never in my life would I have except this night to take such a turn.” You had picked his interest.

And years after he still was. Loki grew less hostile towards you, never letting go of your hand. Never again, he promised himself. He was feeling at ease in your company, away from all the judgements, finally having his own light shining upon him and him only.

"What do you want to do?" You asked, bringing the prince out of his mind.

"Whatever you want, love."

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki oneshot #loki fanfic #marvel x reader #marvel one shot #libraryᯓᡣ𐭩

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spookymystery67 · 2 months ago

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I Wish I Could Walk In Heels

AN: Hello, everyone! Hope you're all doing well. I'm sorry for taking forever to update. There was moving and chaos and continued chaos that I will not be getting into, but I just wanted to thank everyone for their patience and support. It really means a lot to me that people actually enjoy my writing and my story.

With that being said, I hope this chapter is okay. I was having a hard time with it. For some reason when I'm writing it just feels like the words are so repetitive and boring. Hoping that isn't the case. Also, forgive me for any mistakes there may be. At some point when this story is all done I plan to edit things I may have missed going through the first time around. Enjoy!

Ps, my wifi kind of sucks so I couldn't view the gif I picked very well. Hope it's okay for all of you.

-Los Illuminados, 2004-

Chapter 21:

The relief you felt when you finally saw Ada as she hurried through the church gate was immense. The villagers had been circling the area, and were a little too close for your liking. You had, luckily, managed to keep yourself hidden.

“Ada!” You whisper-yelled, gaining her attention without the other villagers noticing. As she locked eyes with you, it was clear to you that you both were equally relieved to see each other.

“Y/n! Are you alright?” She studied your figure in search of any obvious injuries. Finding just slight scratches, she seemed satisfied enough with your current state.

“I'm fine. But I have some bad news.” A particularly loud shout from a villager nearby spooked you and made you walk further away, dragging Ada along by her arm.

“Relax, dear. I took some of the ones surrounding the area down. Only a few stragglers here and there, but they won't be any match for us.” She said calmly. It helped soothe your nerves for a moment, until you remembered the bad news you were trying to share.

“What happened?” Ada asked. “What's the bad news? I assume it has something to do with Luis, considering he isn't here with us right now.”

You sighed in defeat. “You're right. It is about Luis. He got jumped by the villagers just after I got here. I wanted to help, but there were just too many for me to even attempt to take down. He told me to wait for you to get here before we go after him. I'm sorry, Ada.”

She gently placed a hand on one of your own and squeezed it reassuringly. “Don't apologize. I don't blame you. I believe you when you say there were too many. I found out from Wesker that the heightened activity is likely due to the president's daughter being in town.” She explained. Your eyes widened.

“The president's daughter? They kidnapped her?”

Ada nodded in confirmation. “They did. And not only that. We have a friend who happens to be in Los Iluminados as well.”

A friend? Confused, you asked her, “Who?”

“You don't want to guess?” She sarcastically responded. The playful attitude and the smirk upon her face would be endearing and entertaining, if you weren't so crunched for time.

“I doubt we have time for that.”

“Not like we have many friends, dear.”

You shrugged with a nod. “Good point. Has to be…” you rack your brain, going through all your danger prone friends. Could be Jill. But you highly doubted that. Last you heard from her, she was on a mission with Chris Redfield. That was only a couple of weeks ago. Claire? You didn't think so either. It's been awhile since you've kept tabs on her, but you couldn't think of any reason on why she would be here.

“Leon?” You guessed.

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner. First guess too. I'm impressed.”

You hadn't seen Leon Kennedy since after Raccoon City, when you both had gone your own ways after he decided to risk asking the military for help. Since then, you and Ada had heard things about him here and there. How he now worked for the government as a sort of super soldier. Given his prior experience with his police training and the infected in the city, they decided he would be a valuable asset. Someone they just couldn't part with.

This was all supposed to be top secret, but your girlfriend is Ada Wong. She could get whatever information she wanted.

“He must be here for the President's daughter.”

“My thoughts exactly. I'm actually glad he is here. His presence provided a nice distraction to keep the townsfolk occupied while I made my way to the church.” She explained. Those gunshots must have been his then. Never the subtle one.

Speaking of gunshots. You and Ada both startled when you heard them once again, only this time the sound was closer.

Ada grabbed a hold of your waist with one arm and used the other to aim with her grappling hook. She hooked it to the church steeple and then you were both zipped up, landing on your feet with practiced precision.

She put away the grappling hook as the gunshots continued. “Sounds like he could use a little help.” Ada said, quickly jumping down to grab the rope to the church bell. You followed shortly after her and covered your ears in preparation of the noise.

Ada pulled the rope once and let it ring. Both of you watched as the townspeople made their way to the inside of the church. They acted as if they were in a trance. Or moths to a flame. From where you stood, Leon was just as confused by their behavior as you and Ada were.

“That's weird. How did you know that would happen?” You wondered.

Your girlfriend shrugged, “I didn't. I just figured the sudden noise would confuse them, giving him enough of a distraction to get out of there. Worked better than I thought it would.” She finished with a smirk. More of a confused, yet proud, smirk rather than amused.

With all the villagers inside, you and Ada both went to return to the mission at hand. Just before you were fully out of earshot, you heard a comment that amused you greatly.

“Where did everyone go? Bingo?” Leon snarked.

You were so unprepared for it.

“HA!” The sudden cackle that lame comment got out of you was far too loud for your comfort. And Ada's, judging by her reaction. She covered your mouth with her hand to muffle the sound, giving you a stern glare. But her lips, too, twitched with amusement.

You watched as Leon looked around for the source of the noise, but quickly moved on after having no luck.

“Don't worry, Leon. First time's free.” Ada muttered. She removed her hand from your face after she deemed it safe enough to do so. “You could have blown our cover with your unworldly cackle, my love.”

You huffed another quiet laugh. “Sorry. I just wasn't expecting it. I usually expect comments like that from you.”

Your response to her gentle, and clearly not too serious, chastising made her smile as she grabbed a hold of your waist once more and zipped you both back down to the ground. She continued the conversation once you've both landed.

“As if you don't tend to also make inappropriately timed jokes during stressful situations. I admit, I am a little jealous that he got such a reaction out of you. Should I be worried?”

Her hand gently brushed some of your hair away from your face, before dropping it back down to her side. You blushed, shaking your head and snorting at her joke.

She grinned again. “Clearly I shouldn't be. I doubt he could get such an adorable blush and a snort from you.”

Your blush deepened and you sighed. “Stop it.”

“Why? I practically live for your reactions. Don't know how I ever survived all those years without your little huffs and sighs.” Her grin turned mischievous, knowing damn well what her flirty tone and words implied.

And knowing that your blush will not go away because of it.

Evil. Ada Wong is beyond evil.

A sudden ring from the radio in Ada's possession interrupted your, admittedly, completely off track conversation. Ada frowned and answered the call.

“We just lost Luis's signal somewhere in the vicinity of the forest. Expect the worst.”

You hear Wesker drawl, frowning at the implication. You hope Luis isn't dead. Your guilt at getting distracted just a few moments ago worsened at the thought. Now wasn't the time to play around.

“That's near Méndez, isn't it? He has a house there. Could be worth taking a look.” Ada suggested. You nodded in agreement when her eyes met yours in a silent question.

“Do it. I'll see what I can find from my end.” With that, Wesker hung up the call. Ada put the radio away with a sigh.

“Should have known this entire mission would be trouble. We should get going.”

“Agreed.”

With that, you two went on with your mission, away from the church.

—

Clemente's Appeal

Master,

If you pay it some thought, it is unusual that Isidro let me go.

Ever since that beast in the black robe struck me with something, I have been feeling strange. I have started seeing things, having visions. The sky itself looks like that of another world.

And then, that thing comes. Only now there are many. Hundreds.

Master, I beg you! Please! Is there a way to escape this horror?

“Find anything interesting?” The sudden voice broke your concentration. You jumped, startled, looking up from the letter in your hands to Ada. She was taking anything of interest or value from the room you were in.

The room itself was creeping you out. The light fog on the floor, along with the candles and human skulls set almost casually in crates and tables, made you feel on edge. Or maybe it was just this village in general making you feel so on edge.

“A note about a beast in a black robe. I was thinking it might be the one that attacked us back at the castle.”

You paused, remembering the moment Ada covered you from the exploding substance that had, in turn, hit her. Just a couple drops, but enough to worry you after what the letter said. “You aren't seeing things, are you?”

“Seeing things?”

“You know, seeing things that aren't there. The note mentioned seeing multiple of the same beast in the black robe. And a weird sky. Did you see anything like that?” You asked, handing the note over for her to read.

She paused, avoiding eye contact with you as she took her sweet time reading the note you'd found. She can read much faster than that. Already you knew something was up.

Looking back at you, though still avoiding eye contact, she shook her head and smiled. That smile would fool anyone else into thinking everything was fine, but it didn't fool you.

“No. Haven't seen anything like that.” Her tone was off. Only slightly higher than usual.

She's hiding something.

“You're lying, Ada.” She sighed in defeat, knowing there would be no convincing you otherwise. “Tell me, what happened?”

“Truthfully… I don't know. After you left is when the visions happened. My surroundings became distorted and that black robed thing multiplied in the middle of the fight before it disappeared.”

“So you didn't kill it?”

“No. It left before I could.” Ada clarified.

“And have you seen anything weird since the fight?”

“Define weird? We're only completely surrounded by it.” She joked weakly, attempting in vain to lighten mood.

You frowned in disbelief. “Stop it. You know I don't joke when it comes to your wellbeing. Have you seen any visions of the creature since the fight?”

“No, I haven't.” She shook her head. “You know, it could have just been a one off thing.”

“Possibly.” You tiredly responded. You softened when Ada placed her hand on your shoulder, attempting to bring some sort of comfort. “Just tell me if you have any more visions.”

“Yes ma'am.” You shoved her arm in response to her sarcastic salute. She smirked and put the letter away with her other belongings.

—

Ada eventually led you both out to the empty town center, where there appeared to be the charred remains of a man that was quite recently burnt at the stake. The sight gave you pause.

“So, they're just burning people alive now? Is this a sacrificial offering to the Plaga or something?” You wondered out loud, not expecting an answer. Though, you still turned to face Ada when you didn't hear any comment from her.

She was looking around frantically, a slight look of fear on her, normally stoic, face.

“Ada? Are you al-” Your question was interrupted by her gripping her head in pain, stumbling in place. You immediately bolted to her and held her steady by the arms.

All too suddenly, she pushed you away and did a roundhouse kick to the air, as if something was behind her. She backed away in confusion when she realized nothing was there. “How…?”

“Ada. You're seeing it, aren't you? It's here.” You looked for it, turning around and making eye contact with the giant insectoid in the black robe behind you.

“Help me out, dear, and point me to the real one.” Ada gasped, taking her gun out, ready to destroy the creature that was messing with her head.

So, with a shotgun in hand, that is exactly what you did. You did your best to help Ada differentiate between the visions and the real deal while simultaneously avoiding the attacks it sent your way. Especially avoiding any mysterious goo it attempted to shoot your way. You both didn't need to be seeing multiple.

Finally, your teamwork weakened the beast enough for one of you to take the shot. The subtle fury on Ada's features made you allow her to do the honors. Pistol in hand, she took the shot…

And missed. How did she miss it? Ada Wong doesn't miss. Your concern grew when she dropped the gun and stumbled once more, clutching her head in pain.

Angry, you aimed the shotgun at the creature. You didn't even get the chance to pull the trigger before it slapped you with its enlarged claw, knocking you away from it. Your head ached as you crashed it with a painful slam to the ground, right next to the charred human remains.

You groaned, blinking rapidly to clear your vision and watching as the black robed creature made its escape. Forcing yourself to your feet, you quickly ran over to check on Ada.

She picked up her dropped pistol with confusion clouding her features. And, though she would never admit it, you could tell she was scared.

“What is wrong with me?” She muttered. She glanced up once she noticed your presence, backing a few paces away from you when you attempted to comfort her. “Stop. Keep some distance.”

That reaction from Ada surprised you. “Ada-”

“I don't want to hurt you.” She firmly stated. “Clearly I'm not in full control of myself. That thing stopped me from killing it somehow.”

You hummed, understanding her worries, but not wanting her to distance herself from you either. “I guess it does more than just show you things. But it's gone for now, Ada. You don't have to worry about hurting me.”

Slowly, as to not make her back away, you walked forward and grabbed her hand that wasn't holding the pistol. Nothing bad happened. You held her hand in a tighter hold. “See? Nothing. You don't have to worry so much. We'll figure this out together, okay?”

She nodded. “We will. But first, we find Luis.”

#ada wong #resident evil #ada wong x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #re4 remake #Jill valentine mentioned #Chris redfield mentioned #Claire redfield mentioned #raccoon city #Also mentioned #idk what else to tag #luis sera resident evil #Luis Serra #I Wish I Could Walk In Heels

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bullyingfictionalmen · 16 days ago

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Crow’s Lullaby

Summary: The year: 1925. The place: Linkon City. ‘Evol’ as a concept is only just being studied. A young singer with a sordid past and an infamous criminal with a penchant for jazz cross paths, perhaps not for the first time. She’s chasing her dreams, he might be the only person in the city with the sway to keep her safe. But will teaming up bring mysteries to light, or will it seal their doom?

Read on AO3

Word Count: 1.9k

CW: violence, main story/anecdote spoilers, fem!MC, eventual smut

1: A Siren Sings in an Empty Room

When you got the job at Sour Note, it was just waiting tables. You knew the jazz club held secrets that its meager stage belied, but the owner, Luke, had nearly laughed you out of the interview when you proposed a steady singing gig.

“Listen, doll, you’ve got guts, but moxie don’t pay the bills. You think a waif like you with no name recognition could draw a crowd, much less keep ‘em hooked ‘til the fifth cocktail?”

“You haven’t even heard me sing! What if—” but your plea fell on deaf ears. It was all you could do to convince him to let you wash dishes in the back.

But everything changes one slow, rainy night. Fall is fading fast, succumbing to winter’s biting chill. The club is nearly empty after the dinner rush dies, save a few regulars in the back having a hushed conversation. Their faces are obscured by cigar smoke, nowhere near needing assistance. Bored, you feel your eyes wandering toward the ornate grand piano, as they often do when you have a free moment. Unlike the rest of the muted décor, Sour Note’s piano is pristine, glossy, even. It’s old, but has clearly been treated with the utmost care. Luke has told you on multiple occasions that if you touch it, he’ll cut off your thumbs.

But Luke’s not here tonight. Your fingers are practically itching, and one little song couldn’t hurt. Quietly, you slide onto the bench, mind racing, hands hovering over the keys. For a moment, you feel paralyzed with uncertainty. Your throat clenches, your chest is heavy. No big deal, you reassure yourself. No one will find out. This is just for me.

You begin to sing, softly at first. Your breathing is a little unsteady, your hands are stiff. But as you continue your performance, the fear melts away. In its place swells the joy of pure artistic expression, the satisfaction of doing what you love. Your voice, a rich and warm contrast to this dreary evening, seems to soar and fill the room. The gentle, twinkling piano flows beneath it like magic. When the last note rings out, you feel an unabashed grin lighting up your face. Your dream has come true, if only for a moment.

Show, sharp applause breaks you out of your trance in an instant. Your gaze darts to the table of regulars, but they aren’t the source of it. At some point during the song, a gentleman you’ve never seen before has entered the club. Your panicked brain hones in on each striking feature, silver-white hair that’s perfectly mussed in spite of the rain, blazing red eyes, a neatly-pressed suit with a leather jacket draped over his broad shoulders. He exudes the kind of nonchalant self-assurance you’ve only ever associated with the exorbitantly wealthy. He’s lounging on one of the sofas like he owns the place, eyeing you with an intensity that makes you want to crouch down and hide like a scolded child.

“Well, now,” he drawls, standing up and taking a step toward the stage. His voice is so deep and melodic that it makes you shiver. “I’m shocked. I wasn’t aware that Luke had booked a musical guest for this evening.”

You feel a blush creeping all the way to your ears. Debate lying and lightly playing it off. But something about this man’s demeanor, the wry arch of his eyebrow, makes you feel like he can read your every thought. All possible excuses die before they can reach your lips. “He… he didn’t.”

The man laughs softly, and you’re sure he already knew that. “I see. Bold, aren’t we, kitten? There are few who would dare to lay hands on my mother’s piano. But you really gave it your all, so I’ll let it slide.”

You gasp, hands jerking away from the keys like you’ve been burned. “Your… mother’s…?”

The man’s lips quirk into a sly grin. “No need to be scared. Instruments are meant to be played, right?” He steps up onto the stage, looming over you. “Though I do like that pretty ‘o’ your mouth makes when you’re surprised.”

Your hands fly to cover your face. You try desperately to think of something, anything intelligent to say. Maybe, ‘sorry’? Or, ‘who are you?’. But all you can focus on is your heartbeat pounding in your ears, the pleasant, spicy smell of his cologne, and the imminent possibility of unemployment. When you feel composed enough to peek between your fingers, you find him staring at you again, chin propped up on his palm, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Are you a little calmer now?” You manage a nod, and the man gestures to the bench. “Scoot over a bit.”

Your conscious mind barely registers his request, but you do as he bid on instinct. When he sits down next to you, the soft leather of his jacket brushes against your arm. There’s barely enough room for the two of you, and you curl in on yourself a bit until he taps your shoulder. “You can relax. I won’t bite. And I won’t tell Luke about your little solo act.”

You raise your head so you can look him in the eyes. “Really?”

“It wouldn’t matter if I did, though.” The man says, absently running his fingers over the keys. “The person with final say on hiring and firing is the owner.”

You blink. “But Luke, isn’t he—?”

“He’s been kind enough to watch over this place for me while I’m indisposed.” As if to accentuate his words, the man plays a light little arpeggio.

“Do you own other businesses, Mister, um—”

“Sylus,” he offers you a handshake, and you take it, still a little hesitant. But you give him your own name. “To your question, I guess you could say I have my fingers in a variety of pots in Linkon CIty. Music just happens to be a fascination of mine.”

“For your mother, too?” The question spills out before you can wonder if he’d find it rude.

Sylus looks a bit taken aback, but his expression clouds with something you haven’t seen from him before. Fondness. You find yourself marveling at the way the emotion softens the intensity of his features. “She did love music. Jazz in particular. She would have been a great pianist herself, in different circumstances.”

This time, you know better than to pry. “I’m sorry for touching something of hers without asking. It’s a beautiful instrument, and I’m sure it means a lot to you.”

A low laugh rumbles in his chest, and you feel a twinge of warmth at such a lovely sound. “Quite alright. But, if I may ask, what spurred you to play that song in particular?”

You cross your hands in your lap, humming in thought. “Well, ‘Crow’s Lullaby’ was on one of the records my granny used to play all the time at the house. She loved to twirl around as she cooked or cleaned, singing her heart out into a ladle or a hairbrush. She was tone-deaf, but my brother and I still loved to dance and cheer her on. When I was a little older, she brought home a spinet from the antique shop, and that was the first song I learned to play on it. She… cried when I sang it for her.” Feeling a little misty, you swallow thickly, wiping at the corners of your eyes and forcing a smile. “Anyway, I guess it’s what I think of first when I get a chance to perform.”

“I see. She must’ve been a great inspiration to you. A prime reason you want to be a professional.”

Your spine goes rigid at his spot-on observation. Holding back a sheepish smile, you fiddle with a stray strand of your hair. “Am I so obvious that you can smell my desperation?”

“That’s not how I’d put it,” Sylus’ crimson eyes linger on you a moment, and you fight the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. “I noticed because you carry yourself like a performer. When you sing, I sense not only raw talent, but years of practice that make those notes seem effortless.”

His straightforward praise leaves you speechless for a moment, your heart rendered gooey as melted chocolate. “Th-Thank you. You’re too kind.”

“No, just observant,” Sylus asserts. “That, and Luke complained to me a few months ago about an audacious, unproven girl looking for a singing gig at my club.” Your blush returns full force, as does Sylus’ smirk. “Does your grandmother know you’re working here?”

You shake your head, gaze falling to your lap. “She, um, passed away a few months ago.”

“Ah… My condolences.”

The conversation lulls. As the silence stretches on, a strange, fluttering urgency takes hold of you. A desire to maintain whatever tenuous connection you have to this man. “D-Do you play the piano, Sylus? Or sing?”

“I do play a little,” Sylus’ lips curve upward. “As for singing, it’s one of my greatest loves. Unfortunately, I’ve been informed that I’m a little… tone-deaf. That’s actually the story behind the club’s name—a bit of a self-effacing joke.”

“Huh. Somehow, that’s hard to believe.”

“What makes you say that, kitten? Teasing me for my faults?”

“Not at all. I just thought that with a voice like yours, you could enthrall anyone with a song.”

“’Enthrall’ them…? What an interesting choice of words. They bring to mind sirens at sea.” Sylus’ eyes twinkle with mirth, and you’re one more embarrassment away from bolting into the rain. I can’t believe I just said that.

You turn away, squeezing your eyes shut. “S-Sorry, that’s, um… I meant—”

“So quick to cower,” Sylus muses, his fingers gently guiding your face toward his, “but you shouldn’t apologize.” Your eyes meet his again, and it’s not just his voice that enraptures you. “I could only ever feel flattered by such praise, delivered straight from a siren’s lips.”

His words are a spell, a honeyed incantation that robs you of all your sense. Your lashes flutter, red lips parted slightly as if a kiss is a forgone conclusion. There’s no doubt in your mind that if anyone here is a siren, it’s Sylus. Your fingers trace his forearm before clutching the fabric of his sleeve. Your breaths mingle, your eyelids fall closed in anticipation, and then—

“This damn weather! I swear I’m going to—” The two of you jolt apart at the sound of Luke’s loud, disgruntled voice. When the man catches sight of you sitting at the piano, his nostrils flare, eyes bulging in disbelief. “What in Astra’s name are you doing over there? How many times do I have to tell you, brat? Lemme see those thumbs—"

“Luke,” Sylus’ chides, but his tone is placid, without a hint of the regret or unease that leaves you silent and paralyzed, “I told her it was alright.”

Luke scrunches his brow and scoffs. “That’s rich, Boss, considering all the times you’ve threatened my life over that old thing. ‘Luke, if there’s so much as a smudge on that piano, I swear I’ll rip off your di—‘”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Sylus rolls his eyes. “I merely told you to be careful, and you have been. Besides, this one bent the rules in service of a greater good. Now, Luke, break out our best bottle of gin. I believe a celebration is in order.”

Your eyes go wide. There are many speakeasies around the city—hell, you’ve been to a fair few—but alcohol is illegal, and it’s unusual to discuss it so brazenly. “A celebration…?”

“Why, yes,” Sylus winks. He offers you a hand, helping you stand up from the bench before he leans down to kiss your knuckles. “In honor of your new job.”

#love and deepspace #lads fanfic #lads mc #lads sylus #lads x reader #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x mc #lads 1920s au #jazz singer!mc #mafia boss!sylus #eventual smut

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aliceinborderlandsquidgame · 1 year ago

Text

KINKTOBER

♤IN THE OPEN♤

CHISHIYA X READER

NSFW - Public masturbation - Fingering - MDI - +18

(I got this request like 4 times)

Chishiya was kind enoug to invite you to one Open talk about the lastest surgery methods that would be soon be used at the hospital he worked.

And you, as his supportive S/O had accepted without thinking about it too much.

It was boring, the first hour was fine, but then things got too intelectual for your non medical brain. Making you feel sleepy. You tried not to make it too obvious specially for Chishiya, but nothing scapes him, he noticed it right away.

"Are you bored dear?" He murmured into your ear making you flinch in suprise and turn red.

"Im fine" you tried to lie to him but the look in his eyes say "I dont believe you".

Suddendly the lights when off, this was in order to present a video of the New method.

God, If you were getting sleepy with the lights on then this was your end game.

"Hey, dont lose yourself now" it was Chishiya again and before you could ask him what was he trying to say you felt his hand go under your skirt to touch your lips above your underwear.

You jumped and in reflex closed your legs, trapping his hand. You could not see it, but Chishiya had a smug look right now.

"You have been spacing out all this time, were you waiting for me to touch you? Here?"

He asked, pushing away your panties to the side and slicing one finger into you. You had to bite down a moan of suprise, as the presentation went on Chishiya kept fingering you.

"Shh, dont make a noise, I have a job to keep you know? I cant lose you because you cant keep that pretty mouth of you close"

You wanted to talk back to him, but he was alwyas one step ahead and added a second finger, hitting your G spot making you weter.

"Look at this, are you going to make a mess in here? Where all my coworkers are?

You said no, moving your head not trusting your voice but a gasp left your lips when he decided to play with your clit.

"No? Darling you need to try harder"

He taunted you, keeping a steady speed, his fongerd caressing your walls making you get close and closer to your orgasm.

"You gonna cum? You cant even wait till home right? You are so needy"

Instead of stopping he kept going, faster this time. You had to hold his arm as you curved feeling your release.

Suddendly Chishiya stopped, moved his fingers out of you and acted as if nothing had happened. He looked at you for a moment then to the front, the lights went back on revealing your red face and hard breathing.

"Its your girlfriend ok?" A fellow Doctor asked Chishiya noticing your state.

"She is, she just needs to get home and....finish something important"

#alice in borderland #aib imagine #aib imagines #alice in borderland x reader #Chishiya x reader #kinktober

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just-a-strange-boy · 1 year ago

Text

experimenting for friends

part 2 - hair-pulling

part 1

Sherlock Holmes is a man prone to addiction. In means of trying to finally set an end to his substance abuse by finding something equally stimulating, he is eager to do his share of research - and of course, it's your help he's requesting. Another experiment entails.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader (GN)

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), mentions of drug abuse/addiction, mentions of relapse, penetrative sex, mentions inexperienced/virgin Sherlock, questionable sexual favours, fwb (?)

A/N: this is definitely not how you (should) treat substance abuse, but hey... it's Sherlock

"I have a request."

You were just sorting through some paperwork, a whole clutter of important documents you figured he should keep, neatly organizing them in binders and folders, something Sherlock thought was too mundane and boring to do, when the detective came to approach you, downright startling you with one of his spontaneous verbal outbursts.

"Fire away", you had said, looking up from the piles of paper to find him standing in the doorway, hoping that he wasn't just going to ask for another walk so he could have yet another cigarette. You'd managed to get him down to three a day, which was a huge success, considering he had only relapsed recently, heavily abusing substances far worse than nicotine. It had been your agreement from the get go – you'd turn a blind eye to Sherlock smoking a limited amount of cigarettes as long as he stopped using otherwise.

However, it wasn't a cigarette he was asking for.

"Obviously my desire for substances mostly stems from how they affect the release of chemicals within my brain, chemicals that stimulate and influence the way I process my thoughts. They minimize the often overwhelming sensations I experience and are inhibiting my natural urge to deduce everything. They manage to calm my mind, a rather positive effect, which is why I have always relied on getting high if I needed a moment of peace. Can you follow me?"

Sherlock was speaking as rapidly as you were used to, not even allowing you the slightest opportunity of uttering a single word, "Of course you can follow me. You're not an idiot. I know you've done your research and I explained it to you plenty. My point is that I have been researching with the intention of finding something that will have a similar positive effect, in order to...not having to use."

"Let me guess", you replied with a sigh, processing what he was telling you, figuring quickly why he came forward with a request, "You're suggesting another experiment that I will have to be part of? To research and find out whether any theory you have might be correct?"

The detective nodded, striding over until he was standing next to the table, gaze drifting over what you were currently sorting, before giving it a dismissive look and focusing back on you.

"Yes. Exactly. I knew you would get it. I have... reconsidered that time when we... um...uh", he began almost awkwardly, all the sudden stuttering in a way very unlike him, "...when you touched me and when we were close... I felt good. In a way that might be comparable to a high. But I need to figure out what kind of effects it has on me from an analytical point of view to make sure I am right about my assumption."

So very clearly, Sherlock was suggesting you gave him another sexual favour – like once before in an experimental setting, needing to gather 'information' before he could confirm his assumption.

You had no doubt that a sexual high could be comparable to a drug high in some way – you wouldn't know though – and you would have liked to help him, but also considered it risky.

As much as you would have wanted him to find something, anything, to stop him from using ever again, you didn't know whether that would be the right way.

Leading Sherlock to another kind of addiction was risky, considering he was definitely prone to developing them, may it be his evident addiction to the thrill of his work, trying to keep up with and challenge the dangerous minds of criminals, or the substance abuse itself.

Besides that, you didn't want to put your friendship at risk and you were also not going to be some object for Sherlock to figure out whether sex could make him feel similar as a high on drugs.

The man sensed your initial reluctance, continuing his lengthy explanations, so typically like him, so casually like only Sherlock could as he seemed to have found his grip again.

"But at the same time I know it wouldn't be fair of me to continue requesting those things for my own gain. You are your own person and I would never try to guilt-trip you into something that could possibly set an end to my habitual substance abuse. I am very aware that I am the one owing you a favour for your help in the first place. I do not want to further strain our friendship with my demands, but I need you to know that... if I can share and research this with anyone, I would want it to be you."

You sighed. It was ridiculous. Ridiculous that you were even considering this in the first place.

Could you have refused Sherlock? Possibly. That's what you should have done anyway.

Did you want to refuse him? Certainly not.

Last time you had decided to work on an experiment with him, you had gotten to see a very different side of Sherlock, soft and submissive and gorgeous. You had kissed him, touched him, not to mention you had absolutely jerked him off too. You had praised and cherished him. Sherlock had sounded wonderful, looked beautiful, so raw and open and honest – you had definitely not forgotten the sight. And yes, you might have masturbated to the memory itself too.

The instance had been hard to forget.

But ever since then nothing else had happened between you two. For good reasons.

Sure, you had sought out his presence like you usually did. You were friends, comfortable around each other, spend time with one another, though Sherlock wasn't necessarily an affectionate person. He didn't hug, didn't cuddle. He certainly wasn't interested in being anything but friends.

So you had figured that first time was just going to be a one time thing, just an experiment for research, and tried your hardest to get over the fact that Sherlock didn't harvest feelings for you other than appreciation for the friendship you offered. Romantic and sexual attraction were a rarity for him, so you knew, and you had never pretended you might be the exception.

Nevertheless you couldn't help your own feelings. You liked Sherlock a lot.

It pained you to see the detective on edge and all sombre, to see him lost in drug addiction and throwing himself into dangerous case work, just to escape from his own mind for a moment. You hated to see him hurt and so bloody lonely.

Of course it also made your heart ache to know you were nothing more than a friend to Sherlock, so you should have been wiser, refusing to partake in the experiment, because you indeed weren't some test subject and this was a recipe for disaster, something that would likely hurt you and potentially harm him in the end – which you did not want.

But the idea of being close to him again, of being able to potentially help Sherlock get his mind off the drugs, to ensure he would be feeling good and okay, even if just for a little while. You couldn't quite escape your own track of thoughts, your own wants, your own conviction that you might the person meant to save Sherlock Holmes from himself.

"Do you want me to... uhh... you know?", you asked, followed by a very specific hand gesture, unable to ignore the certain awkwardness, you sitting there, Sherlock standing there, a mess of case and paper work all around, as you kept looking at each other.

There was no distinct expression on the detective's face save for slight expectation and a bit of redness on his cheeks, blushing as you suggested giving him another handjob.

"I have not determined any specifics", Sherlock admitted to you, though not in refusing, "Meaning... I don't know what I would want, what would work. The things you offered me last time have had a positive effect on me. I know that I want to be close to you. I don't know what would suffice."

You contemplated, gnawing on your lips like you always did when you were a bit nervous, breaking his gaze for a moment as your glance fleeted over the table, even though your head was undeniably full of Sherlock.

You were both only human. While the detective craved something to ease his mind, you craved the physical intimacy and emotional connection to him. Neither of you should have taken use of the other, but since you were both consenting adults, you allowed yourself to be weak and stupid.

"We'll try to figure it out then", you agreed, "Let me finish this first?"

"Of course", Sherlock nodded, "Don't be too long, Mrs Hudson has invited us downstairs for dinner and I was suggesting we watch an episode of that ridiculous show you like afterwards. Before we... um... do anything?"

Evident surprise must have crossed your face and for a moment you had a hard time searching for the right words, not knowing what to think. It was kind of him to suggest, almost domestic.

Of course, having dinner at Mrs Hudson's wouldn't be like dinner at an actual restaurant, but Sherlock didn't want to go anywhere public in his current state of body and mind, so soon after his relapse. His landlady made impeccable food and she was even went out of her way to make it for the two of you, so you were amenable.

"Yes to dinner. We don't have to necessarily watch the show though", was all you replied, "You'd never be able to shut your mouth during the episode anyway, making comments about it the entire time. That's why we never watch TV together, Sherlock.”

"I comment on everything and you usually don't seem to mind", Sherlock stated and the slightest sign of a smile snook onto his lips.

And you smiled right back at him, not needing to have the last word and returning to your paperwork, while Sherlock continued his usual pacing and casework.

Needless to say, any attempt of continuing this work was useless anyway, since you were entirely incapable of focusing on the stack of files before you, unable to shrug off your nervousness as your thoughts went spiralling about what you had just agreed on.

You eventually came to the conclusion, while you were brooding over payment checks from clients, this might actually make for a nice time together.

Having dinner with Mrs Hudson was nothing unusual for you two and always made for an enjoyable time. Sharing a bed wouldn't be weird, as you had done so before, if only for a couple of danger nights, with a distance appropriate for friends between you.

What was appropriate for friends by definition anyway? Hadn't that line already been crossed by the one sexual favour you had given him? If you followed through with this today, closing that distance between you once again and going even further than last time, every possible line you could think of was going to be blurred forever.

It was very hard to not think about the possibilities, not the consequences, but how far Sherlock would be willing to go with you, what he would allow and ask for.

You wondered whether Sherlock would want to kiss you again, whether he would want to give as much as receive, whether you would actually have sex and how it was going to be, whether he would ask you to stay afterwards and share the bed with you.

Even thinking about what your evening would entail made you a little nervous.

Thus you were more than grateful for having dinner beforehand, considering it was so much easier to keep your doubts at bay and just stop thinking so damn much as Mrs Hudson was bustling around the two of you. She was as chatty as always, kept you entertained with stories from her past and her good food was a welcome distraction. Once again, she expressed her gratitude over you getting Sherlock back on his feet and voiced how glad she was that her tenant was doing much better with your assistance, going on about how happy she was he had found an actual friend, even though she still heavily insinuated your romantic involvement with each other.

You neither denied nor confirmed the idea in the moment, finding it rather amusing how flustered Sherlock got at the mention, though not bothering to say a word about it either, and after helping Mrs Hudson with the dishes, the two of you eventually headed upstairs together again.

It was fair that she had her suspicions. Probably many people had.

After that last experiment and tonight, rightfully so.

You ended up taking turns in the bathroom.

Admittedly, you were more anxious than expected while in the shower, scrubbing yourself clean everywhere, not knowing what to expect, what you were going to do, if Sherlock would even want to touch your body or if he just required you to touch him – and you were just as nervous while Sherlock was in the shower, sitting on the bed, fidgeting with your glasses, scrolling mindlessly through your phone as you kept thinking about what you wanted the man to do to you and more so how you were planning on bringing him pleasure.

If he'd let you.

You had dressed down to what you usually wore to bed, a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, being so bold as to forgo underwear altogether, curious how Sherlock would react to such a clear proposal, if he took note of it at all. Glasses still perched atop your nose, you turned your head when you heard the door to the bathroom open again, eyes following Sherlock as he came back out to join you on the bed, shrugging off his housecoat to reveal his choice of pyjamas, not so different from what you had decided on wearing.

"So, what did you have on your mind?", you dared to ask again, courageously, placing your phone on the bedside table, before turning further to Sherlock, who was now just sitting there, right next to you, neither seeming expectant nor nervous by any means, "I know you said specifics weren't clear, but I'm sure you have a fair amount of imagination."

"That is correct", the detective agreed, "I came to the conclusion that perhaps it would be wise to... begin like we did last time."

You shot him a smile. "So, you'd like to kiss me?", you asked, arching your eyebrows at him, hoping that Sherlock would take the bait and just go for it. There was nothing he could've done wrong. The thought of getting to kiss him again made you awfully excited.

"I'd like you to kiss me, yes." Though seeming slightly reluctant and reserved, his words were clear. He wanted you to kiss him.

And you definitely were going to kiss him, but most importantly you wanted to give it time. There was no need to rush and hopefully, neither of you were going anywhere any time soon.

So you reached out and grabbed Sherlock's hand. Instead of climbing him like a tree and slipping onto his lap right away, kissing him like your life depended on it, you were deciding for the two of you to take this slow, beginning with something as simple and innocent as touch.

Perhaps this would allow Sherlock to gather information better, how he responded to affection, how he responded to you initiating, how the simplest things would influence him or perhaps how they wouldn't. Whether it would leave him hungry for more, driving him mad with anticipation, or whether it wouldn't do anything for him at all.

This was an experiment after all. Might as well just do some experimenting.

You slotted your fingers together, marvelling how your hand fit into his so smoothly, so perfectly, and pulled them apart again, letting your fingertips dance over the expanse of his hand, tracing those long, skilled fingers with simple fascination. Fingers you had watched so often, whether it was them dancing over the fret of his violin, preparing samples for his microscope, picking up evidence at a crime scene. Wonderful and careful hands.

Eventually linking them into one another again, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze and looked at him, finding him glancing back at you. Of course you tried to read Sherlock's expression right away. There was some curiosity, he seemed attentive and receptive, the grip of his hand tightening instinctively, a response. He was just looking at you, observing, perhaps contemplating.

Your own heart was beating a little faster, sensations heightened by the sheer intimacy of the moment, time seemingly standing still all around you, so you couldn't exactly pinpoint the moment when you decided to move further. Perhaps it was the synapses in your brain finally snapping, perhaps it was just the need to break the tension that had come up between the two of you, perhaps it was a mutual silent agreement to do this all of the sudden.

Whatever it was, you leant into Sherlock, who met you halfway, pressing your lips together, responding to one another immediately.

As your mouths slotted together, a rather gentle brush of lips at first, you could feel how the grip on your hand was instinctively tightening, holding onto you more, in fear you might be slipping away any second again. But you certainly did not, would not, wrapped up in Sherlock's taste and warmth and his smell, licking along the seam of his lips, sliding your tongues together as he let you claim his mouth, as you let him explore.

You didn't know what had gotten you so hungry all of the sudden, but you knew you needed more of Sherlock. Speaking of addiction. So you decided to get more of him, who seemed compliant to your every move, absorbing every little bit, every touch, you allowed him.

Even those moments apart, when both of you had to catch your breaths, small gasps of air between you, he was quiet and observant. He let you shift around, slipping onto his lap again, greeting you with another sweet kiss after having you perched on his thighs.

Reaching up, you gently cupped Sherlock's face in your hands, tracing his jawline, those high cheekbones, before sliding them all the way up into his dark curls, tugging on his hair.

The reaction was imminent, the kiss broken immediately, a groan slipping from Sherlock's mouth, leaving the two of you a bit startled at the sudden response.

"I need you to do the exact thing again", the detective requested then, his tone demanding and firm, before smacking your mouths together again, a kiss hot and downright desperate for more, and you gladly obliged, fingers tangled in his locks, giving them another pull, which caused a reaction not so different from the first time.

Apparently praising wasn't the only thing that got Sherlock going.

So you continued your eager advances, seeing how far you could take this, brushing through his curls before gently tugging on them again, letting Sherlock's moan break the kiss, tilting his head back by his hair and baring his throat.

"How are you doing this?", the man groaned, almost hissed when you began mouthing at his neck, "I don't understand how you can have this effect on me."

But there was no explanation you could have possibly given him. Perhaps you just clicked with Sherlock and that was why.

You only knew how addicted you already were, how you couldn't get enough of the man's taste, the warmth of his body, the sweet noises from his throat and the thought that perhaps he really wanted you too.

Making sure to not bruise the skin, you kept nipping at the expanse of his throat, pulling on his hair times and times again, dragging more moans out of him. Your name passed his lips after a while, the softest sound, then a "Can we stop for a moment?"

Raising you head again to look at Sherlock – a delectable sight, slight blush on his cheek, lips swollen red from kissing, pupils dilated with need, a dreamy expression on his face – and waited for however long was necessary.

"Are you okay, Sherl?", you asked immediately, hoping you hadn't made him uncomfortable.

Apparently he just wanted to elaborate though.

"I am more than okay. I just need to tell you something", Sherlock replied, holding onto you by your hips, a steady grip, "As you have... um... figured, I respond quite heavily to your advances. I am puzzled by the effect you have on me, because I was always very convinced that I simply was not interested in things of a more physical nature. But you keep kissing and touching me and I'm not entirely sure what it means that my body reacts like this."

Quite passively, you continued to stroke the back of his head, listening to him as attentively as you could, trying to ignore your own arousal. You were going to work through this with Sherlock, not questioning his worries or uncertainty for a single moment, allowing him to take the time he needed in order to understand himself and what he wanted and most of all, why he did.

Of course, you had wondered before and you were still asking yourself the same question now. Had Sherlock even had sex with anyone ever? Everything about his words and his behaviour was indicating he hadn't. But he didn't seem to be all too nervous, instead content and collected.

Maybe you were even more nervous than him.

"You're turned on, if I had to guess. Which I find really flattering. And it's more than okay that you're feeling like this. I want you to enjoy this experience, so please don't let the unknown hold you back", you advised with a soft smile, "I like you, Sherlock. I enjoy being around you and doing this with you... it turns me on too."

"You know I don't experience and approach things like most would do. Sex has never been the focus of my interest, so I... I have never done this. I have done research, but I'm not going to know exactly what to do", Sherlock admitted, eyes flicking over your face, the look of consideration, as if he were searching for the right words, "You're... absolutely endearing. It's nice to have you around and I trust you. And I want to do this with you."

"So do I", you responded, unable to stop the smile slipping to your lips, thinking it was lovely how Sherlock entrusted you with his mind and body, how he wanted to share this moment with you and no one else. "We can sure figure out what you like best", you added, "Would you want me to take the lead?"

The man seemed to consider your question, although you were partially convinced that he was more so enjoying the quiet of the moment, your fingers brushing over his scalp, basking in the closeness, though simple affection usually was something Sherlock didn't like. Not with anyone other than you apparently.

"Would you want to participate in penetration? If so, I suppose I have no clear knowledge of which position would serve best, but I am interested in learning. Since you are the one with more experience, I find it only logical you are the leading part", he spoke up eventually.

"Fine with me", you hummed, "I have no preference either, but I find it quite comfortable on your lap, so perhaps we can work around that?"

Admittedly, your wet dreams always tended to drift in a direction similar to this. There was something submissive about Sherlock, something that made you want to take him apart, lay him out on the bed, mount him and fuck him silly until he was a desperate mess begging to come, and you were sure it would have been a beautiful sight to have him this way.

Since you were already sitting on his lap, your crotches pressed together, hands tangled in his hair, seconds away from bringing your lips to his throat again, you wouldn't mind it sweet and gentle either, letting him explore all you had, letting him consume all you offered, letting him take his time to harvest the information he needed.

Maybe one day he would like to take the reins, but you couldn't really imagine him as the dominant part just yet.

You knew exactly how you would take the lead, how you would ride Sherlock all the way to ecstasy, until the brilliant and smart detective would fail to find the proper words and fall apart under you. Oh, how you wanted to hold him close, wanted your bodies entangled and conjoined, wanted to be able to sense and enjoy all of him.

It was a silent and natural agreement between you, so you figured as Sherlock's skilled hands sought out the hem of your shirt.

"I'm afraid you have to stop touching me for a moment", he mused and went on to gently pry the thin shirt off your body as you complied. After all you had been together for all kinds of weird occasions and sharing rooms, you had been close to him before but never quite so exposed, not in a way like this. Never undressed for him to see or touch.

In comparison, you had seen Sherlock bare plenty of times before, naked and vulnerable, so stripping him out of his shirt in return was by no means unfamiliar. There was something about this level of intimacy though, the sensuality of his touch on your skin that already made you shudder with need, winding you up with anticipation.

It was Sherlock then, who so carefully let his lips ghost over the expanse of your neck, exploring bit by bit, spreading gentle kisses, teeth grazing the skin and you supposed he was not entirely distracted from making deductions just yet – how else would he have possibly figured how to strike a nerve within you?

Your hands wound up in the dark curls again, playing with strands of hair, tugging on them, using them to pull Sherlock's head backwards as the advances on your sensitive skin were too much to handle. You too were soon moaning, panting hard, a pretty rosy colour to your cheeks.

"I find it very enjoyable when you pull on my hair", Sherlock admitted to you and while he had previously held his hands very still, he couldn't continue to resist and began touching you more, exploring your body with diligence. He had never touched you or potentially any other person like this, so excessively. If you thought about it, no one ever really had been so thorough as him, trying to map out every inch, every crease, every little mark. It was as if he was memorizing you, cataloguing. Careful with you. Mesmerized by you.

You didn't mind his advances, had never been on the self-conscious side but under the impression you weren't really sporting an exceptionally beauty. If anything you were ordinary, and still... this man looked at you, touched you with utmost adoration, curiosity, interest. Like he couldn't simply get enough from you. Like he didn't want to ever stop again.

"I find most of you very enjoyable", he added.

"Likewise", you smiled at him, hands busy stroking his nape, his upper back, pale shoulders, skin flush with heat under your touch, "I suppose you figured out what's getting me going."

"I think it's fascinating", Sherlock mused, "Because I could feel your pulse quickening and your body tensing up when I began kissing your neck. I imagine these are the exact responses you could notice on me when you tug on my hair. It's fascinating how our bodies respond so impulsively to a variety of triggers in such different ways and..."

Not wanting to be rude, but also not wanting to let Sherlock ramble about the creation of personal preferences, you quickly shut him up with another kiss, sealing your lips together promptly, giving a sharp tug to his curls. It certainly earned you a moan of surprise and Sherlock seemed not entirely displeased about your decision, hands returning to your waist to keep you steady, maybe wanting to prevent you from slipping away, afraid of losing what he was just learning to enjoy, kissing hungrily and with the kind of fervour one didn't really expect him to have, every bit of what he had wanted to say forgotten.

Your mind ran quite blank too. You knew that you wanted and desired Sherlock, pressing further up to him, could feel heat pooling in your groin and knew that you were already aching for him within the restraints of your sweatpants, becoming painfully very aware of how you had decided to forego underwear altogether, meaning it was just a bit of fabric between you.

Starting to rock your hips atop Sherlock's lap, because you couldn't hold yourself back anymore, you figured you weren't the only one getting aroused, feeling his hardness trapped beneath the remaining clothing, soft groans leaving both your mouths as you ground down on his bulge, creating a friction that left neither of you unaffected.

"I need you, Sherl", you moaned against his lips, throwing the decision to take this slow out the window, too far gone at this point, wanting nothing more than to feel the man inside of you and ride him to the breaking point. You were so horny you almost whined as you moved atop of him and your obvious neediness seemed to render Sherlock speechless altogether, his gaze just as clouded with lust as he simply stared at you and you lost yourselves into each other, chests heaving hard, bodies melting together.

All he gave was a nod of consent and you started beaming with unrestrained joy, slipping off Sherlock's lap to come kneel on the bed, hands drifting up to the waistband of his pants. "Are you sure this is okay with you?", you still decided to ask. Even though the man had seemed consenting before, you'd rather have him be comfortable too.

Whereas you would have expected a snappy comment or an entire mass of words breaking loose over you, Sherlock remained rather quiet, nodding, the smallest 'Yes' slipping past his lips.

He seemed entirely enticed and you made sure to keep on looking at him, pulling the soft material down by the waistband and stripping him bare, carelessly throwing the clothing aside, once you had wrestled it down his legs.

To have him so exposed and naked before you was a sight to take in, letting yourself simply look at him for just a moment, your hands rubbing over those lean thighs.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous", you uttered, fingers gliding along the inner sides, brushing over wisps of hair, all the way up to his crotch, the hardening cock, taking the member into your hand, watching him twitch and grow in size. You would be lying if you said you hadn't thought about his cock after the first time, never been able to forget the sight, wishing to feel all of him inside.

"I...um... how do we do this?", Sherlock quietly asked, redness burning on his cheeks as his eyes were fixed on the sight before him, "How would you want me?"

"You lay down on your back, get comfortable and let me do the work", you advised and gave him a quick wink, watching Sherlock settle down almost immediately after your advise, more than eager. And wasn't it just the most perfect sight, his lean body atop the sheets, skin reddened with small blotches, traces of his arousal, his cock raging hard in the grasp of your hand, dark curls bedded on the pillow, dreamy look in his eyes as you looked at one another.

"There's... uh... lube and condoms in the bedside drawer", Sherlock muttered, like he didn't quite want to admit to it.

You shot him a pleased, but surprised expression. "Did you plan for this?", you wondered, reaching over to fetch anything you'd need from the drawer, "Or do you just keep them in your bedroom all the time?"

"I was certain that I had at least a seventy-eight percent chance you wouldn't refuse and since I have considered all possibilities that almost meant including the accomplishment of a sexual encounter, I thought it was best to be prepared just in case. As I have however opened up to you that I have no experience with sexual interactions, so no, I don't keep them here all the time, I've purchased them for this purpose... recently", Sherlock answered, his nervousness evidently easing again as he managed to speak mostly unaffected as he always did, the kind of rationality not unusual by any means.

"78 percent? You did the math and all, didn't you?", you grinned, using the moment to slide your own sweatpants off your hips, revealing your full nakedness to the man, whose eyes remained on you, widening, darkening, looking up and down your body, trying to seemingly capture every single little detail of you, lips parted and his pink tongue slipping through as he admired you.

At a lack for words, Sherlock just nodded, watching you return to him and slump down atop his lap again. You gave him a reassuring smile, reaching for those fine and skilled hands, placing them on your body as Sherlock remained a little taken aback, probably slightly overwhelmed with the sight and sensations alone. Though once he dared to begin touching you again, he got this look of fascination on his face, a spark in his eyes, tender touches on your thighs.

"Would you like to help me prepare?", you asked, knowing full well that with a curiosity like Sherlock's he would likely not refuse.

"I understand that it will make this more pleasurable for you, so yes, I think I'd like to", he agreed and you canted your hips forward, towards him, allowing Sherlock to reach out to you, trailing his fingers down your body, lower, across the expanse of your belly before slipping between your thighs, no doubt finding what they were searching for.

A heavy shudder surged through your body when he did, breath hitching in your throat as you felt fingertips circle your entrance. You knew the breach would initially feel unusual, not having had a partner in a long time and not being an avid user of sex toys either, but god, how you ached for him to touch you, how you wanted to just feel him. After adjusting his hand into a comfortable position for the both of you and slicking fingers up with lube, Sherlock slid one into you so easily that all worries were just leaving you at once.

You couldn't stop a moan from leaving your lips, even just one finger in, and wondered how much research Sherlock had actually done as you found yourself arching into his touch. It wasn't clumsy by any means, if a little more careful.

There was a pleasant tingle pooling low in your stomach, your arousal rising to indescribable heights in thorough interest of getting fucked, and your mind went blank when he pushed another finger into you, gently spreading you open with a passion.

"Fuck, Sherl, feels so good", you groaned, looking down at the man, who so gently and kindly fingered you open, like he wasn't doing this for the first time, like he wasn't a stranger to this at all, "Can't wait to have your cock inside of me."

While Sherlock did not seem to be one for dirty talk, remaining mostly quiet and fixed on you, he definitely seemed pleased with your reaction, urged on to continue his advances, fingers already sinking in deep and lord, he had these long and wonderfully skilled fingers that were certainly capable of finding the sweet spot. If you let him continue, he was no doubt going to make you cum like this. You were so obsessed with the feel of him already, bloody hell, his fingers alone, pressing further into his touch and technically begging to be fucked.

Trying to keep your right mind though, you thought it was best to request Sherlock to stop, knowing that as soon as you were going to ride his dick, it would all be over for you anyway.

The small break did you well as he withdrew his fingers again, not leaving you out of his sight for a moment. You shuffled back down on the man's lap, making sure to prepare Sherlock just as much, rolling a condom over his raging arousal, before drizzling a bit of lube on him, coaxing another grunt from him as you rubbed him up and down.

You weren't sure who was more gone on the other – yourself, cock-hungry and needy, positioning the tip of his hardness against your hole, already going crazy at the slightest nudge, or Sherlock, watching you with a dreamy and blissful look on his face, blushing hard, lips parted and breath stuck in his throat in anticipation as you eventually sank down on his cock, taking him all in, slowly.

Bodies combined, becoming one, groans and panting immediately merged into one as well.

"God, Sherl...", you mewled, filled out so sweetly. It felt just right. You began moving once used to the stretch of his length, fully sheathed within you, and tried to keep your gazes locked, save for taking in the entire sight of Sherlock once in a while – skin flush from arousal and the heat of the moment, his eyes attentive and almost adoring, full blown with desire, his chest heaving and sinking hard, hands almost trembling as he let them skim over your waist, your thighs and all he could reach.

"This feels very good", the detective acknowledged, only occasionally and shyly rocking his hips in time with your movements, seeming unsure and perhaps a bit overwhelmed with the sensations, "You feel very good."

You couldn't quite respond anything that would make sense and at a loss for words simply continued to move atop him, supporting your slow motions with hands perched flat against the man's stomach.

There was no need to talk about what was going on, neither for you nor for Sherlock, as unspoken truths were shared between you two, how well your bodies fit together, how good you felt and how much admiration you had for each other. You hadn't expected it to be like that, so intimate and fulfilling – to be honest, you hadn't even had expectations when it came to Sherlock anymore.

There was always this element of surprise about him, something unpredictable, and fairly said you hadn't even expected to get into this situation with him in the first place.

But there was this amount of comfort and trust that exuded Sherlock in the moment, being vulnerable with you, submitting to you, an unusual innocence sticking to him. It made you feel possessive of him and even more so, protective.

Though he never failed to surprise you.

While he had previously held back moving too much under you or daring to explore your body with more bold touches, he seemed to warm up to the idea of intimacy and sex, for that matter. Astonished by the suddenness of his motion, you couldn't hold back a gasp when Sherlock pushed himself into a seating position, sliding his arms around your waist to keep you steady on his lap, his cerulean eyes fixed onto you with curiosity as he observed your reaction, as you continued to ride him with long and deep strokes, one hand shooting up to support yourself on Sherlock's shoulder, the other drifting into his hair.

You swore you could hear him cuss under his breath, once tugging on his dark curls again, but since you were entirely overcome with a mass of different sensations and emotions, it really could have been anything he muttered. And all the same, you found it didn't matter.

Your mouths slid together again, tongues finding each other once more, and you rocked even harder into him, pulling on his hair over and over, wanting to elicit more sweet sounds from him, being rewarded with the most desperate whimper.

You were completely lost in one another, something you hadn't quite awaited, but very well welcomed. That was the thing about Sherlock, always seeming so put together, so closed off and shielded from the outside world, so focused on facts and information and logic - and yet he was far from all that. You only knew all that because he let you see.

Sherlock was sensitive, could be pried apart as easily as made whole again, he lost himself in the smallest things so quickly, searching for things to ease his thoughts and mind, prone to getting addicted to them. Emotions overwhelmed him and that's why he refused most human interaction.

But he wasn't refusing this, wasn't refusing you, because there was an unspoken trust between you. You didn't know where that trust stemmed from or how Sherlock truly felt about you, but this wouldn't be happening if he weren't convinced of you being trustworthy.

On the cusp of pleasure, you were both entirely gone, and all that mattered were the raw sensations, bodies sliding together, obvious heightened emotions pouring out between you.

Head buried in the crook of your neck, Sherlock was breathing hard, moaning into you skin, shaking in your hold as you continued to tug on his hair, causing him to twitch and whine and crumble apart under you.

You spoke the sweetest praises, words mangled with your own moans, your thighs trembling but still riding him with fervour, though you could sense your stamina failing you, could feel yourself being so close to the edge by the way your nerves tingled within your core, the way pleasure heightened immensely with each thrust, something building up, and yet you were only able to let go as Sherlock himself toppled over.

His entire body went tense, not to say rigid, tightening his hold on you like he was afraid of losing you altogether, a moaning and twitching mess as he was overcome by his own pleasure.

"You're doing so good, Sherl, so good for me", you found yourself whispering and it must have been a combination of all things going on, Sherlock falling apart and pulsating inside of you, keeping you seated on his cock with a tight hold, and being on the absolute verge of sexual excitement, that made your own orgasm hit, causing you take him exceptionally deep with one last thrust, rocking out waves of pleasure and arousal.

"Oh, Sherl, my Sherlock", you let out a heavy sigh, coming back to your senses fast, while the man still seemed a little absent, clutching onto you tightly, face pressed to your shoulder, where you could feel laboured breathing and an unexpected wetness against his skin.

You knew they were tears, but didn't mention it, stroking the back of his head with the comfort that Sherlock just needed, comfort that he often refused or wouldn't allow himself to get. Perhaps it wasn't even sadness, but relief washing over him, the sudden overwhelming feel of orgasming.

While his previous responsiveness to affections and especially praising had fired up a curiosity within you, it was this specific moment, just holding Sherlock so close and having him so vulnerable after just having sex with him, that caused your heart to swell as well as ache, mind heavy and clouded with so many thoughts and sensations rushing in.

You couldn't help but feel for him. For his sadness and loneliness and desperation, all things Sherlock would never admit to having, but all deeply rooted within him.

And you couldn't help but feel love. A love that shouldn't be, because that was not what you were to Sherlock. It was not the point of your care for Sherlock, it was not what his older brother was paying you for. It should not be the reason behind your thorough protectiveness of the man, behind you caring, behind... this and all you did for him. But it was. You couldn't shut it off.

Yes, you were Sherlock's caretaker and this shouldn't be happening.

You had already crossed the line of sentimentality and any professionalism by becoming his friend so early on. Any decision you had ever made for Sherlock's sake was painted by your friendship to him and therefore not logical but emotional.

It would be surprising to none that you had developed this love for the man and everything he was. Feelings couldn't be helped, of course not, and you doubted people close to the two of you were unaware of how much you actually liked him.

In the end, it wouldn't matter anyway.

Sherlock didn't feel and love like most people did, not to say that he couldn't, but the way he was and would always be simply differed from the mass – so it would be wise of you to expect nothing and accept things as they were.

And whether Sherlock Holmes could ever feel the same or something similar as you did for him, would perhaps forever remain a question unanswered.

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