#harmon rabb jnrr x you

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Happy Birthday: Harmon 'Harm' Rabb x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @dizzybee03 @kmc1989

It’s zero six hundred hours and Harm is standing on deck of the USS Allegiance, watching the sun rise over the horizon with a cup of coffee in his hand, the sea breeze ruffling his hair.

It’s your birthday today, he wants to call but it’s one in the morning in Washington and he knows you’re sound asleep from the goodnight text you’d sent. He occupies himself instead by scrolling through the pictures on his phone, the ones of the two of you together. It’s the first night he’s looking for, the selfie you took at the bar before he’d taken you to bed. You look so happy, your cheek pressed against his, the jukebox looming in the background. Every time he hears Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Glory Days’ he thinks about that night, how it started, how it ended.

He'd kissed you under the streetlamp outside of your apartment building, he hadn’t stopped until he reached your bedroom and then it was only to undress you. You were beautiful, he remembers thinking that as his fingertips traced over your scars, the ones he knew about, the ones he didn’t. He'd spent the night exploring you with his mouth, worshipping you the only way he knows how.

You taste like honey when you come, your fingers gripping his hair as you crest against his mouth. He doesn’t stop though, he fucks you through it with his tongue before he draws another out of you. You're needy and overstimulated by the time he’s finished with you, skin flushed and eyes bright.

His thumb chases over the apple of your cheek as he presses his forehead against yours, his cock rubbing against that sweet wetness.

“Think you can take a little more?” He asks you, his eyes on yours as his thumb trails over your parted lips.

You respond by arching just a little and he moans into your mouth as the tip of his dick slips inside you. Christ you’re tight, you take his cock so fucking well as he enters you inch by inch until his hips are flush against yours.

“Oh Savanna,” He’d drawled as he kissed your lips. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

That had been exactly three years ago. He’d woken up tangled up in your sheets, limbs entwined with yours, your face buried in the curve of his throat.

“Happy birthday.” He had whispered, his lips brushing over your forehead as he’d held you close.

The sound of the ship’s horn brings him back to the present and he looks down at the time on his phone with a sigh. He needs to be at his station in five minutes if he wants to leave on time. He sends you the picture from that night, waiting for it to pop up on his screen because the signal can be sketchy out here.

Three years ago you gave me a wonderful gift, he types underneath, I hope you enjoy yours.

He’s flying out later today and when he lands, it’s going to be at your door.

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