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almostempty · 28 days

Text

Kick and Scream

Self Esteem Part 3

Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel catches you on a date and communicates how he feels about it (the only way he knows how).

Warnings: fuckboy!Joel, dub con, smut, pwp, unprotected piv sex, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, public sex, blow job, reader is still sippin' on some dumb bitch juice for Joel (me), jealous!joel, possessive!joel, emotionally manipulative but sexually proficient Joel, toxic breadcrumbing Joel fucks, smash and dash, no use of y/n, AU no outbreak, special guest appearance by date night dave, OOC Dave bc I don’t know that man so I made him single, rich, hot, and pervy idc idc idc, more i might be forgetting rn,

Notes: please leave feedback! open to constructive criticism or delusional inspiration

Thanks: to EVERYONE who read part 1 and 2, but ESPECIALLY @auteurdelabre for inspiring, I hope you enjoy it bb. I'll try to tag those who specifically asked for more brb, and @strangergraphics

WC: 9.3K (idk it got long and horny heheh)

AO3: HERE

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 2: Want You Bad

Masterlist: Here

You stare down at the hand that just landed on your thigh, cocking your head in assessment. You can feel the scowl tugging at the corners of your mouth. As you work out what expression you should paste onto your face instead, the man sitting next to you seems unbothered. Maybe even encouraged? He continues his lecture about the benefits of indoor rock climbing. You sigh, staring across the park as he continues without pausing to breathe.

You watch the couples milling around the park, wondering if that’s what you look like with this guy's hand on your leg. You stare back down at it, his long fingers shifting slightly as he continues his animated speech. Sweat beads at the back of your neck, and you feel fidgety. Trapped under the weight of his limp hand. He doesn’t seem to notice when you squirm and readjust. He’s circled back to his earlier lecture about how you just have to learn to play an instrument. If he’d let you get a word in, you could verify that you already do, but he seems to prefer the sound of his own voice.

This guy should get a podcast. The kind where a guy with a microphone talks to himself for three hours about whatever he wants. He’d crush it. You laugh to yourself, unintentionally encouraging him with your smile. He’s not not good-looking. But you’d prefer someone interested in asking you at least one question.

You stifle a laugh at the intrusive thought of taking him home and stripping his clothes off while he prattles on about amateur bird-watching, sorry–birding, or unicycling.

Eventually, you extricate yourself from the disappointing date, accept an awkward hug, and turn down dinner. You haven’t left the parking lot yet when your phone buzzes.

Unsaved number: had a great time with u

Unsaved number: would love to see u again :)

It’s not that your skin crawls, but it is a full-body no.

You: thanks, I’m glad I got to know you more

It’s not technically a lie. You’re glad you learned he’s not a fit for you. You feel okay about leaving it at that for now. You watch the sunset from your parking spot. The park is filled with couples laying on blankets being romantic. You roll your eyes at them and then at yourself for being bitter. Your phone buzzes again, and you wince, hoping it’s not your long-winded date again. It’s not.

Joel: what you doing?

Fucking Miller. You scoff aloud in the private space of your front seat. By now, he should be on your blocked list, but the quick hit of euphoria that floods through your bloodstream, warming your cheeks, keeps you hooked. He’s a filthy drug that blinds you from logic or survival instincts. Your eyes dart to the pedestrians in the parking lot. Worried. As if the milling strangers know what you’re up to and are about to shame you. A little voice reminds you that if you feel guilty about something, you shouldn’t be doing it. You ignore that voice. Nobody in the parking lot catches on, coast clear, and you let yourself grin wide as a fool when you type your response.

Later that night, you’re grinning again. Sprawled across your couch, sweaty skin plastered to the faux leather cushions. Sated. Bought and sold on your own lie, you tell the little voice that you didn’t want Joel to stay anyway. You convince yourself some form of compromise is happening, however twisted, when he shows up and leaves you wrecked. He comes to you. You don’t have to get to know each other to make each other feel good. Whatever puts you at ease.

Sometimes it works. Some days, you feel hollow and anxious. Obsessively tapping your phone to see if he’s responded when you reach out first. Pacing around your home, stressing over whether you should stay up just in case and even in bed, you can’t help but stay alert for a knock at the door.

The cycle leaves you with dark circles under your eyes most days. But, on the mornings after Joel shows up, you have a bright twinkle in your eyes and a knowing smirk that greets you in the bathroom mirror. Katie noticed the smirk one day and called you out. She demanded an explanation for the mystery dick fairy.

You wouldn’t admit his identity to her, afraid of getting too involved with someone in her boyfriend's network. But you did admit to the toxic cycle, and your friend was not as amused as you when you tried to pass it off as a joke. She tried to convince you to look for someone to date, but you argued that wasn’t what you wanted anyway. She suggested at least someone who could commit to a plan or send a text back. You knew it didn’t sound great out loud.

As the days of summer crawl along, you wonder if she’s right. At least, it was worth considering. It’s a feeble attempt to smother your spiraling thoughts about Joel. Still, when you start getting messages from the dating app Katie chose for you, it gives you something to interrupt your racing thoughts. At first. Somehow, it starts to feel even worse. Ignoring the sinking feeling you get when it isn’t Joel’s name in your notifications gets more challenging.

You had accepted that it was a lost cause to plan anything with him, but you still can’t find the self-respect to turn him away when he shows up at your door. Sometimes, he sends you a grammatically inconsiderate text. You wonder if he somehow has a cell phone plan that still charges him by the message with the way he uses as few words as possible.

He never stays. Never invites you to his. He evades any predictable behavior. Maybe he’s worried someone ordered a hit on him. Maybe that’s all it is, you muse. Not a contracted kill. The unpredictability. Chaos. That’s what makes him addictive. The brightness of the highs makes you temporarily forget the darkest lows exist. That, and the dirty little thoughts that pour from his mouth and drip into your psyche. That stupid, sexy voice burning into your memory, yeah, that’s definitely addictive. You snort at that. I am unwell, you think. As you pick up your phone again, you see a message from someone new.

\\\///

Heat radiates off your face as you fling another shirt across the room. You’ve tried on the same three outfits over and over again. Ripping them over your head and tossing them into the pile of laundry purgatory. Maybe sweating and mouth-breathing is a turn-on for your date; if so, you’re gonna nail the first impression. You sigh and commit to option two: the little black dress. A classic, right?

“Shit,” you curse at yourself when you stumble while attempting to pull your shoes on as you walk down the hall. This is what you get for agreeing to a late evening date on a weeknight; you feel like a mess. Scrambling to play it cool and classy, you pause to recalibrate before opening the door. What was his name? You can’t remember. He didn’t look like your usual type, but Katie had convinced you to branch out a little. More specifically, she told you it was a green flag already if he wasn’t your type.

You swing the door open, hoping he introduces himself first. He looks expensive. The dark-washed denim, the boots, the jacket, and the watch. Like he walked out of an ad campaign for a brand out of your budget. Dave. He does introduce himself, thankfully. He’s more clean-cut than your usual type, but he speaks confidently and gives off an air of put-togetherness that intrigues you. His voice definitely stirs the butterflies in your stomach.

Oh. You realize you’ve definitely been busy staring at him and have no idea what he actually said with his sultry bedroom voice. Your eyes widen a little. You don’t wanna fuck this up and embarrass yourself. Luckily, he seems unbothered. He tilts his head with a seductive half-smile. He’s enjoying the way you assess him. That definitely does it for you. Stupid, smug men making you weak in the knees.

“You ready?” he asks, voice all smoky for no good reason.

“Yeah,” you manage to say as you recall how to speak and act human. Until you see his luxury car waiting for you. He clocks your beat of hesitance.

“Good.”

His authoritative voice flips the right switch in you, and you let him lead. When he opens the door for you, it’s like the final component of his spell. You are bewitched. Under a thick veil, you didn’t even notice the truck that rolled by as you sank into the leather seat. You didn’t notice when the truck pulled over up the block, idling noisily on the quiet street. No, you were busy, focused on manually breathing and taking in what you’d describe as the interior of a spaceship.

The good news is that Dave is charming. He is easy to talk to as he drives. Flirty and quick-witted. He asks you questions and pauses to consider your responses. You aren’t sure you have much in common, but you like his self-assured demeanor.

When you walk into the club he’s brought you to, you hesitate once again, feeling underdressed. The club is split with a lounge on one side of the bar–full of intimate booths and plush chairs surrounding tiny tables and trendy mood lighting. Kind of like a swanky hotel lobby, you decide. On the other side of the bar is a dance floor, dimly lit with loud music blasting. Women in bodycon dresses and heels fill the room. You feel plain in comparison.

“I didn’t know there was a dress code,” you mutter.

“There isn’t,” Dave asserts, “besides, you look good in this.” He accentuates his statement by running his hand down your spine. It settles some of your nerves and lights up others. He ushers you, hand on your lower back, towards a small booth. And as you settle in, he’s undeniably charismatic. Dave doesn’t reveal much about himself but keeps you laughing and seems genuinely interested in you.

Despite the loud music and people noise, it’s easy to feel like the room is only for you and him. You sip your drink and warm up to his affection. You’re quick to smile, and despite how serious he seems, he has a playful edge that has you on your toes.

You can taste the chemistry between you, bright and sparkling. He spurs your confidence with his dark eyes when he not so subtly lets his gaze linger on your body. You stop shying away from attention and try to bask in it instead. It boosts your ego and stirs up your desire.

When you let yourself look, really look, you decide Dave is handsome. His strong features, broad shoulders, and impeccable grooming work for him. He seems meticulous but not too uptight to have fun. A dark sense of humor flirts behind his twinkling dark eyes. You decide to let him know that you’ve determined he is a handsome man. He gives you a look. Like he already knew you thought that. Your cheeks warm slightly at that. Were you obvious?

It’s not until he peels away from you to refill your drinks that you notice how close you have been sitting. You mourn the loss of his body heat as he walks away. You had low expectations after your last few dates, but tonight, this feels different. Your eyes trail along his path to the bar, and you lazily rest your chin in your palm before your breath hitches, and you freeze.

You feel like you’ve swallowed a bowling ball. It’s lodged in your throat first, then constricting your chest, until finally, it sinks. A heavy, solid weight flipping your stomach. You’re locked on a different set of dark eyes. They’re glowering at you through lowered brows from across the room. Seated at the same bar where Dave ordered your drinks.

Joel stares at you over his drink. He downs the glass without taking his eyes off of you. One quirked brow, asking really?

Really what? Is he judging you? For what, being on a date?

Another glass replaces his empty tumbler, but he doesn’t acknowledge the bartender or the rest of the world.

This fucking guy.

The bowling ball in your gut mutates into something fiery. But, you have nothing to be guilty about. It’s not your fault he’s alone, bitter, and drinking at a bar full of people having more fun than him. In fact, you could say it’s his fault that you’re both here.

A scowl forms on Joel’s face when Dave slides back into the booth beside you. Good. You hope he suffers. You hope he sees how easy it is for someone to treat you well. And how happy you look.

You don’t hesitate to lean your body against Dave, giving in to your urges. You squeeze his arm when he makes you laugh, and your touch lingers. He preens under your admiration when you comment on his firm biceps. He is quick to match your advances. Finding excuses to brush your hair behind your ear and settling a heavy palm on your knee. His hand creeps a little higher up your thigh but doesn’t graze the hem of your dress. Respectful. That’s different.

You don’t need to look again to feel Joel’s eyes burning into you. It incites you that he has the audacity. The gall to make faces at you for showing up on a date. You decide you’ll give Joel something to scowl about, feeling emboldened by your date’s touch.

You slide Dave’s hand further up your leg, letting go when he gets the idea. You reach for your drink, feigning nonchalance, but your breath catches, and your hand trembles when he traces his fingertips around the crease of your thigh. He skirts beneath the hem of your underwear, drawing lines over your hip and back towards your center.

The soft touch tickles deliciously, and you feel the anticipation building in your core. He watches your expression, hawklike, noting the tiniest details in the features of your face. He notes when your breath stutters or your eyelids flutter softly.

“This what you wanted?” he husks, still watching intently. Yes, yes, yes!

“Almost,” you toy. Something about having both men’s eyes on you has your skin itching with desire and your blood running hot.

Dave scoffs softly, repeating your word choice and shaking his head. Almost.

“You looking for more?” he taunts as he wedges his large hand fully between your legs to cup and tease your cunt.

You can’t help the breathlessness of the yes that slips out of you. You roll into his palm, and your mouth parts at the friction and his boldness. He smiles wolfishly, flashing his teeth, when he feels you twist and rock against him. His look encourages you. And you tilt your hips and shift your legs to give him better access.

“Dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, still locked on your face. You swell at this. His eyes lower to your glossy lips before he sips casually from his drink, so composed.

Your cheeks warm at his words, but he has his answer when he slips a finger beneath the damp lace between your legs and drags it through the pool of arousal gathering at your entrance. Your lips part at the contact, chest heaving, and you give him a nod and coy smile in response to his question. You’ll be his dirty little thing tonight.

“That’s good,” he declares, pressing a kiss just below your ear before adding, “I’d like to do dirty things to you.”

His husky voice and declaration stir an urgent need to be touched within you. He continues to agitate your nerves as his hand massages over your swollen sex. Your skin feels tight and prickly, tensing, ready to feel more. You’re unconcerned with the debased nature of being fingered in public.

When your eyes are instinctually drawn back towards Joel, you shudder. You can feel the twitching of your clit as your cunt floods over Dave’s fingers. The depravity that another man’s glare eases the slip of your date’s teasing touch is not lost on you. Instead, it turns you on even more. Joel’s homicidal stare has you squirming. You’ve seen darkness in his eyes before, but not like this. There’s no twinkle of mocking, and it’s not cruel in a hot way. If looks could kill, then this room would look like the club scene from Blade.

Dave murmurs something filthy in your ear that makes you gasp. Your hand flies to his thigh, gripping tightly to keep you from melting onto the floor.

“Don’t be shy, dirty girl,” he croons darkly, “you can touch.”

“Fuck,” you groan under your breath when you move your hand to find his hard cock straining against his well-fitted jeans.

He chuckles lowly at the way your eyes widen in response before he plunges two fingers inside of you, and you stifle a throaty sound. Your mind still wanders to Joel, and you wonder if he can see your perverse display below the table. Judging by his clenched fists on the bar, you’d say whatever he can see is enough to fill in the blanks. The sick part of you that feels more turned on by his agony expands within you.

“Oh god,” you whisper as you suck in air.

Dave works his fingers lazily into you. You feel intoxicated by the attention of both men. A concern flashes through you that someone else in the club could catch on or see more than you’d like to show. But a feeling in your gut tells you that it doesn’t matter. Dave seems strikingly confident with a lethal attention to detail. And the ferocity on Joel’s face only eggs you on.

When you think of humbling Joel, a sinister smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. He’s the one that unleashed the horny, risk-taking monster within you and then disappeared. Fuck moping about him. You’re getting yours, you decide.

You shoot Joel a wink. Pouring gasoline on the fire, hoping it pisses him off.

You lean into the salaciously tempting energy radiating off of Dave. Reaching to hold his jaw as your lips lock and you let him control your mouth. Kissing him riles you up more. You palm at his erection over his jeans, delighting in the noises that roil deep in his chest. You hold back whimpers as the pressure of his fingers curling inside of you finds the perfect spot.

He pulls back from your kiss and looks down to watch your hand groping at him. You like watching him watch you.

“You gonna take it out?” Oh. Fuck, you want to. It feels like more of a risk than you’ve taken so far.

“Here?” you ask him softly.

A wrinkle appears between your brows. Dave watches your swollen lips again just as your pink tongue darts out to wet them. He raises a brow at you, eyes dropping to where his arm disappears under your dress.

“Oh, are you feeling bashful now?” he goads. His fingers curl against that sensitive spot inside of you as his palm presses firmly into your swollen clit. He makes it hard for you to answer. You try to pout at him, but the reflexive rise in your brows at the pleasure betrays you. He chuckles again. “No? Just distracted, hm?”

“Fuck,” is all you can mouth. It is distracting. Not the fingers inside you, well, not completely, but the urge. The craving to leverage your lewd new lover’s lack of regard for appropriate behavior into emotional revenge. The thought of Joel growing mad with jealousy as he watches you come overtakes your critical thinking.

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller! You dare him across the room, letting your jaw fall slack and your brows knit in obvious pleasure.

“Are you going to come for me?” Dave asks, “Here in this booth? Where anyone could see?” he tuts like he’s disappointed, and it works. The danger of it all does something to heighten your senses. It’s blinding. The bass from the music blaring from the dance floor rattling in your ribs, Dave’s designer cologne filling your nose, the sheen of sweat collecting on your chest, and the daggers in Joel’s eyes when you glance to confirm he’s still watching. All the sensations clash and shove you towards your release.

“Yes,” you hiss quietly, “yes.” Your eyes slam shut as you try to remain composed while riding his fingers under the table. You flicker in and out of reality as your climax rolls through you. You’re drunk on the reversal of power when your eyes peel open, and you see the hardened expression on Joel’s face glowering at you. You wonder if his dick is just as hard in his pants, and the thought has you contracting again around Dave’s fingers.

“That’s a good girl.” Dave’s voice is somehow even deeper. It sends another ripple of pleasure to swirl low in your abdomen. You’d like to hear that again.

With a touch more clarity after the violent edge of your arousal is dulled, your hand works at his belt, desperate to feel the heat of his cock in your palm. He assists, lifting his hips when you unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his pants so you can slide your hand beneath his underwear. His tension and urgency further stoke your power trip, and you feel overcome with the need to know how badly he wants you. When you wrap your fingers around him, hear the groan he makes, and feel the mindless buck of his hips, you have a more than good enough answer. He’s yours.

Dave watches the way your eyes glaze over when your thumb smears the precome dripping from his head down his length. His hand stills distractedly between your legs, and his chin drops as he watches where your hand disappears under his dark boxer briefs. You’re constricted by the elastic waistband, but your grip is tight. Almost as tight as when he fucks his own fist. He’s mesmerized by the way you jerk his cock just right.

You feel yourself salivating with the need to taste him. You’re getting frustrated with the limited space and want to see him in your hand. You sigh, wishing you could, until you realize you can, and grin.

You pull your hand back out of his pants, and he snaps out of his stupor. Before he can comment, you cut him off.

“Keep your pants on and take me to the bathroom so I can suck your cock right.”

Your voice comes out lower than you thought it would. His eyes flare before he matches your devious look and obeys, spewing filthy thoughts you can’t make out under his breath as he does. He’s ushering you down the hall in seconds, and then you’re locking the door and dropping to your knees. Dave doesn’t wait a second longer, wrenching his belt open and dropping his jeans just enough for his cock to spring free.

You don’t tease or start slow. He admires how you waste no time like you’re desperate to taste him. And you are. Only pausing for a moment to admire the way he looks, stiff and leaking for you, before you eagerly wrap your lips around him. You slide your tongue everywhere and bob up and down with vigor. Salty and vaguely sweet, precome teases your palette. You want more. The best you can do to express that is swallow around him and suck until he’s moaning and cursing above you.

You let your saliva pool and spill from your lips so you can slide your hand down the rest of his length while you revel at the weight of him on your tongue. You find the moves that have his fists clenching and thighs straining and repeat them. You hum around him as pride blooms in your chest over how his composure cracks.

You wonder if Joel has smashed through the bar with his fists yet. At least he didn’t break down the bathroom door before you could get on your knees. Would he strangle Dave first if he saw the two of you? Or would he drag you home and gag you on his angry cock instead? You moan obscenely as your imagination runs wild. You look up at Dave. He watches you with fierce eyes. You wouldn’t mind if they shared you, you consider, but that would take a miracle.

You continue messily and enthusiastically until your knees ache, and you decide he has to come for you. You try to beg for it while he’s still in your mouth before you have the brains to pull off of him and tell him what you want. He’s endeared by your unrefined hedonism.

He grips your jaw in his palm when you get the words out.

“You want to swallow my come?” he asks.

“Yes,” you plead impatiently on your knees with a hoarse voice. You’re a pornographic sight on the tile floor with your wet lashes, swollen lips, and saliva glistening on your chin. You open your mouth for him and hold out your tongue.

“Oh,” he strokes his thumb along your cheek, smiling down at you, “that’s a good girl.”

Your eyes close at that, feeling the praise warm your skin before he slides back into your wet mouth.

Guiding you faster and a little rougher, Dave doesn’t take long to come. Spilling onto your tongue as you groan around him until he stops pulsing in your mouth. You swallow, glowing for him with glassy eyes. He helps you to stand before tucking his softening cock back into his jeans and fastening his belt. You’re adjusting your dress and reaching for your bag on the counter.

“What do you need?” He asks a little softer than you expected, causing you to pause.

“Take me home,” you smile at him dopily before pausing and wincing at yourself in the mirror. You look like a freshly face-fucked mess.

“Uh, actually, give me a few minutes to freshen up first, and I’ll meet you out front?”

He nods, “I’ll pull the car up.”

“I’d like that.” You reply and lock the door behind him after he slips out.

Once you feel more presentable, you pull your phone from your bag and tap the screen to check the time before opening the door.

Seeing Joel’s name makes your stomach flip. You open the text.

Joel: Miss me?

It snaps something in you. Something that enrages you. He has to be certifiably insane, you think. It came through a little while ago, but you aren’t sure how long you’ve been in the bathroom. You begin to spiral, debating if you should march to the bar and throw a drink in his face or pretend like he doesn’t even exist. You feel your face burning hot, and the bathroom is suddenly suffocating. You need some air before you get into the car with Dave. Just long enough to breathe normally and look less like you want to break something.

Leaving the bathroom you find an employee exit further down the hall. A faded sign on the door warns that an alarm will sound, but the rock wedged in the door jam holding it open a crack begs to differ, and you slip into the dark.

A lanky, pale kid in a black apron sits atop a picnic table in the alley.

“Oh, sorry,” you feel a little guilty interrupting his break, “just wanted some air.”

“All good,” he responds before sliding off the makeshift seating. “Last call for the kitchen anyway. Have my seat,” he waves at the table like he’s offering a throne. You accept. Exceedingly grateful to have the air and the privacy to regulate. Just some slow, deep breaths. Then, you can walk out the front door and let Dave take you home.

The door swings open again, and you tense, ready to hop off the table and find another space.

“Sorry,” you start your apology, but it’s cut off.

“You should be,” Joel accuses harshly. He’s in your space with two of his long strides. Rushing at you like you’re caught in a snare trap, and he’s starving. You briefly look the part with your eyes wide in the moonlight, shocked by his sudden appearance, until your barely dampened rage rips from your throat.

“Joel, what the fuck?” you spit out in disbelief, but he interrupts you–

“I thought I already told you what happens if you’re gonna be a filthy tease?” his voice lowers as he ignores your question and paces in front of you with a dark, wicked stare.

“What are you doing here?” you press, ignoring his threat.

“What are you doing here?” he demands. Like he has some certificate of entitlement to your whereabouts. He towers over you. Your eyes narrow to slits. If you could shoot lasers out of them, you’d do it now.

You laugh. Loudly. You’re still laughing when he grabs you and pivots your frame so your legs dangle off of the end of the table towards him. Closer. He gets even closer, standing between your knees. You tilt your face to look up at him.

“You on a date?” it’s a growl carved from stone. You choose to remain ignorant to the shiver it sends through you that has nothing to do with the temperature. How dare he charge up on you like a territorial werewolf in the night? And how dare he look so fucking good with that snarly expression? No. You laugh again. Wild-eyed. Words start coming up before you even hear yourself.

“What is wrong with you, Joel? Why were you watching me? You looking for a show?” you jab. Gnashing at him with your words. He snorts dismissively at you, and a barbaric smile creeps onto his face. Like he’s in on some joke you don’t know about. He irks you so bad your skin crawls.

“S’that what you call it?” he asks, “A show?” Continuing to ignore your other questions. He is so close to you that it burns your skin.

“No, Joel. You were right the first time. I am on a date. A real date. You know what that is, right? Like, he asked me out, picked me up on time, bought me a drink,” you’re tallying on your fingers, “answered my–”

“And then what, you fuck him in the bathroom and hide out here? Alone in the alley?”

It clicks. He knows exactly why you’re flustered. The asshole must’ve sent his text for his own slimy experiment. Trying to rattle you. What fucking game is he playing? Is he trying to win you? Like you’re Dave’s possession to lose?

You scoff at his interjection, “No, Joel, I’m not alone. You followed me out here to make sure of it, right?”

“Right,” he rumbles. His dark eyes glint even in the shadows of the alley. He leans lower and closer to you until you tip back, palms on the table behind you, then elbows. Exposing your cleavage to the moonlight. He pauses, eyes raking down your face, neck, and chest. How does he make you feel raw and vulnerable even when fully dressed?

“You haven’t answered me,” you huff. Irritated and arched beneath him.

“I asked you first,” he argues. A childish rebuttal for a grown man. You’re pretty sure you’ve asked why he’s here a hundred times, but of course, that doesn’t matter. He’s insufferable with his attitude and inability to communicate. Everything about you is taut, and you feel frayed.

Joel dips his head and his lips brush your ear, tickling you, before he rasps, “I asked if you miss me, baby, and you haven’t answered.”

A tremor runs through your body.

It’s criminal. Your mind converts his voice directly into a hot coil of arousal. The throbbing between your legs causes you to wriggle beneath him.

“I need to know,” he croons, begging you to give in.

His arm slides under your back, lowering you onto the table. Your restraint collapses terribly quickly for him. His voice. His touch. He knows all of your buttons.

Laid on your back, your legs instinctively wrap around him as he bends to meet you.

Soft puffs of air shakily flow between your lips as you struggle to concentrate. On what? You aren’t sure. Not good. You squeeze your eyes shut like maybe he’ll disappear.

“I mean it, baby,” he continues purring with a sharp edge, “you tell me when you miss me.”

You know it wouldn’t matter even if you did. If you texted him. If you called. It wouldn’t matter. It would probably make you feel worse. But when he says it, you feel your heart doing flips anyway.

He slides his hands over your body, and you feel the last of your logic escaping as you tug him towards you. You’re grinding against him stupidly without a single thought. Just having him this close to you had you feeling desperate and needy. You could come again right now just by dry-humping like horny teenagers.

The craving for him is so intense that you’ll surely die if he doesn’t keep moving. You lose any shred of composure that you were still clinging to and let out a needy whine for him. And when your fingers twist and tug at his shirt, it’s like a green light to Joel.

He closes any and all gaps between you. His hand skates roughly under your dress, bunching up the fabric. He presses open-mouthed kisses against your neck and grazes his teeth enticingly along your jaw.

Groping, grinding, grunting. All his movements dance a line between deliberate and frantic.

You have tunnel vision, lost from time and space. When his low moan vibrates through you, your hand shoots to his belt. He rasps into your ear again, “That’s it, baby, I’m right here if you miss me, don’t need some jerkoff tryin’ to waste your time.” Your fingers fumble. What– “Oh, shit!” a voice yells. You freeze. “Don’t mind me!” The drunk guy slurs as he stumbles out the backdoor and sways down the alley towards the street.

Your situation hits you like a bucket of cold water. Joel seems unfazed, still curled over you. You push at him and sit up.

“What did you just say, Joel?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs at you.

“Joel, I’m serious. What the fuck?”

He’s not listening. His hands are still searching your body. The scent of his faded deodorant is so familiar in your nose. The words are coming up again. Before he casts his trance on you.

“No. I said I’m serious,” you repeat, “I’m not playing your games. Done with your weird shit.” Your body feels rigid, and your mind is clearing through the fog of lust. “Just because I have no self-esteem and I fuck you anytime you show up on my doorstep doesn’t mean you have any claim to me.”

He blinks at you, finally registering your tone, expression shifting. “I actually tried, you know? I wanted to get to know you. You just bail. I keep suffering for it. Like an idiot. I keep thinking it would show I care.”

“Baby–”

“And now what? You see me on a date and decide it would be fun to ruin it? Ruin a chance at something better than waiting around wondering if you’ll show up looking to score?” You’re on your feet now. Livid. Ablaze in the dark. “No, you don’t even care enough to think about that,” you realize aloud.

His features harden. Your head shakes slowly, exasperated with your burgeoning understanding. All you can hear is the white noise buzzing in your skull. Your next words are quieter and lower, forcing him to pay close attention.

“You just wanted to prove something, right? Thought you’d fuck me on this table and run like you always do? For what, to prove you could?”

His nostrils flare, and you don’t miss how he grits his teeth.

You don’t falter; he doesn’t scare you. You press on with your accusations prickly on your tongue. You back him against the wall next to the door as you continue.

“You don’t like hearing it?” you cock your head at him, amused with his discomfort. “Were you going to leave me here in the alley full of your come like I’m some pathetic whore for you? Would you walk me back to my date after that? Was that your plan?”

Joel snaps, manhandling you in a split second. Pinned against the brick wall, you can hear your heart pounding. It’s a paper-thin line between anger and lust, and you can’t tell which has your blood pumping. You can’t tell if he’s about to yell at you or fuck you. You hate that you can’t tell which you’d prefer.

His eyes are locked onto yours. Not revealing anything. You shift, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He doesn’t keep you waiting. Joel shoves his hand into your panties, fingers slipping immediately into the fresh pool of arousal between your thighs. A shaky exhale comes out of you, but he doesn’t seem to need to blink or breathe anymore.

He brings his glossy fingers to your mouth. Silent. He taps at your lip until you open and suck, tasting yourself. His mask slips a little. One brow twitches as he studies the scene of your lips wrapped around both of his fingers. But his eyes flick to yours when he pulls them out of your mouth and drags them down your bottom lip, smearing spit against your chin.

“Tell me,” he says in a whisper that scrapes across your skin, “does it taste like you miss me?”

You swallow tightly. A lump forms in your throat now, about as large as a civilization-ending asteroid.

You can hear your phone buzzing. Forgotten on the table. Panic streaks over your eyes as you wonder how long you’ve been out here. You duck under his arm, dashing for your phone. You don’t look at him. You can’t. As you sprint down the hallway, you swing the door open, kicking the rock in the door jam, hopefully locking Joel outside. Cursing at yourself for almost letting Joel fuck you in the alley across from a dumpster.

Dave sits in his car, idling along the curb near the front of the club. You’re surprised he didn’t leave. You hope it hasn’t been long. You don’t dare check your phone. Maybe it was only a few minutes, or it could have been an hour. You don’t think time functions normally when you’re around Joel.

Dave is frighteningly observant, slinking out of his car to open the door for you before you get close enough to reach for the handle.

“I was just starting to wonder if you’d snuck out the back door,” he chides.

You feel the blood rushing to the surface of your skin. Hot with embarrassment over your behavior and his on-the-nose word choice.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I did step out for some air. Wanted to cool down.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he assures you, tilting your chin towards his face with his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes dart around his face, wondering what he sees on yours. “Was it too much, dirty girl?” he coos.

“What, this?” you lilt mockingly as you palm over his bulge, “I don’t think so.”

“Good,” he snorts softly. “Get in the car.” He adds as he opens the door for you.

He pauses before pulling away from the curb once seated in the driver’s side.

“Is your boyfriend going to be following us home?”

“My what?” you feel the blood drain from your face.

“The one from the bar,” he continues, measured and eerily calm, “the one who followed us here?” Your head starts spinning at that, but Dave carries on, unbothered. “I assumed he likes to watch. You should’ve told me. It would’ve been easier than wondering if he’s a deranged stalker or–”

“No.” You cut him off and struggle to continue for multiple reasons. “It’s not like that. I thought it was a coincidence,” you feel a confusing mix of emotions.

“Followed us?” you’re curious.

“When I picked you up. In the truck?”

“Oh god. No. He’s,” you pause, searching for the right words.

“An ex?”

“Not even that. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe he’d follow me.”

“So he is dangerous?”

“No.” Only to my self-respect.

“You want me to take care of him?”

“No.” You reply before putting any thought behind what that means. “No. He’s just an asshole with a staring problem.”

You withdraw. You hadn’t thought about why Joel was here. How ridiculous it sounds to imagine Joel voluntarily sitting at the bar in a club like this alone. You feel the blood rushing to your ears. Stupid little butterflies flap their wings in your stomach before they’re reduced to ashes, and you begin to see red again tonight. How is Joel ruining your night without saying a word this time?

“Take me home,” you say firmly.

He does. Dave walks you to your door. You invite him in, but he’s observant, noticing the clouds in your expression. He declines your invite but assures you he would be very interested in seeing you again. He gives you a chaste kiss that makes you laugh, considering how bold you both have been tonight. It lightens your mood.

He lingers for a moment before he pulls out his wallet.

“It was on the house this time,” you snark. Curious about what he’s doing.

He hands you a sleek business card. A business card? Is this guy Patrick Bateman?

Your face wrinkles in confusion.

“I already have your number,” you flip the card over in case you’re missing something. It doesn’t say anything, just has a phone number.

“I meant what I said, that I’d be interested in seeing you again for pleasure,” he smirks, “but if you change your mind, at least keep this.”

You don’t understand why you’d need his work phone number but try to play it cool and nod.

“If your stalker becomes a problem, you call me.”

You’re still confused about what that means when he drives away. As you shut your door, you realize you have no idea what he does.

You’re still in the middle of composing a text to Katie about how her green flag date included a bathroom blowjob and a business card when you hear a knock at your door. You swing it open, assuming foolishly that it would be Dave.

Before you can blink, Joel kicks the door shut and backs you down the hallway. He looks like a man possessed as he hurtles towards you. It sends a chill down your spine that you think would trigger your fight or flight response, but yours seems to be reprogrammed to fight or fuck. Staggering backward, you yelp when the backs of your knees hit your mattress.

“Can I fucking help you?” you snap at him as you realign with reality. “Jesus Christ, Joel, were you waiting outside the window or something?”

You glare into his eyes, but a toxic part of you only wants to focus on his lips. And how close they are to yours. You also can’t deny the even more debauched part of you that flutters at the possessive look in Joel’s eyes.

He laughs darkly, “Nah baby, I knew you’d send him on his way.”

You roll your eyes at that. Cocky bastard.

And he is. He emits a frenzied energy as he takes you in. Looking you up and down like a prize. Like he’s considering where to write his name on your skin.

You roll your shoulders. Trying to shake off the idea that you’d like to be possessed by him, but it thrums persistently inside of you.

“You didn’t know shit, Miller,” you accuse sardonically.

Joel reaches for you. You think he’s going to tell you off. But his hands glide over the tops of your shoulders and up the column of your neck until he’s cupping your jaw in both hands. It feels jarring and vulnerable to be held by him this way. To feel like he just wants to look at you and to know you can’t look away. You wonder what’s going on behind his dark eyes. What he sees when he looks at you What he thinks.

The longer he looks at you, the more the tension builds (of course, because it’s Joel). You start to itch, fingers twitching with the need to grab him and pull his full weight on top of you. Despite your building desire, he’s still quietly reading your face. Joel Miller, the enigma, you muse.

Before you can flip him any shit, his mouth is on yours, and his hands drop to your hips to hold you firmly against his body. You want him to keep holding you there, but closer. You need him even closer.

He groans into your mouth, and you kiss him back hungrily. Your bodies slot together in a twisted fate. You couldn’t care less about the date you just had at this moment. You can hear Joel’s words from previous encounters that have burrowed into your consciousness, and you’re starving for more.

A selfish and greedy satisfaction warms in your chest at him being in your bedroom. He pulls your lower lip between his teeth before breaking away to tease bites along your neck and shoulder. You shiver. Your fingers dig into his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your knees buckle, and fall into the bed with him on top of you. He doesn’t stop trying to taste you everywhere, trying to feel every part of you. You breathe out single-syllable praise as your thoughts become hazy.

You still feel needy. You writhe and strain as you attempt to work his shirt up his broad frame. You’re insistent on feeling the blistering heat of his skin against yours. He leans back up, out of your grip, causing you to sigh in exasperation. Of course, it couldn’t be this easy. What does he have to say now?

“You want me to leave?”

“What? Why?” you growl out. He is not about to body slam you into a bed and then walk away.

“Thought you were done with my ‘weird shit’ or whatever you called it,” he taunts.

“I am,” you huff.

“Tell me to stop.” You can’t.

“Take your clothes off,” you answer instead.

He does. Then, he’s pulling your clothes off and climbing over you. You aren’t sure you’ve ever both been fully naked like this. Definitely not while in a bed, at least. It’s more intimate than your relationship calls for. It makes time feel syrupy, but your other senses feel sharply tuned. Joel’s breath fans hot over your ear as he tucks his face into the corner of your neck and shoulder.

“So,” he sucks at your delicate skin before continuing in his smoky tone, “your date couldn’t satisfy you?”

“Shut up,” you snarl at him, uninterested in playing games. You’re too lost in the intensity of his physical presence. You need him inside of you, and you tug at his body, trying to pull him closer. It’s useless. His strong arms are braced like two stone pillars on either side of you.

He’s such a pest. His mouth quirks, and he looks all too pleased with himself. You roll your eyes again. You know what he’s getting at. What he wants to hear you say. But, you’re reluctant to stroke his ego. He’s going to be unbearable if. The thorn of it that hurts the most, though, is that it’s not a lie. It’s an admission. A confirmation.

He makes you feel so good in ways nobody else ever could, but the pain of knowing he’ll never be yours eats at you. It feels like exposing your beating heart in your chest to confess you want him so badly. You ache to hear him tell you he only wants you again. Even if it’s not real, you lie to yourself, you just need to hear it.

While you wrestle with finding the words, he begins to torment you. The heat and arousal weigh heavily between your naked bodies. He lowers closer and closer to where you need him most but refuses to alleviate your painful want. Wickedly, he exploits your neediness. Teasing at your skin with his tongue, teeth, and breath.

“Tell me, baby. Just let me hear it,” he says. But you can’t.

When he blows air over your strained nipples, and you arch under him seeking contact, he darts down to kiss at your stomach and inner thighs instead. When he gets closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, grazing his nose over your mound, you could snap.

You reach to dig your fingers into his hair and direct his mouth to your throbbing clit, but he’s stronger than you. Devilish man. He crawls back up to hover over your face. You know he’s enjoying it. Wondering how quickly you’ll break. It makes you want to kick and scream.

“Tell me it’s not true then,” it’s a challenge directed at you, but it feels like he’s also challenging himself.

He drags the head of his cock over the slick lips of your cunt without precision or direction. You are so convinced he’s torturing you, but he looks like he’s in pain from restraining himself as well. It makes you crazy. You try to reach down to line him up with your entrance yourself, but he’s faster. He grabs your hand and pins it above your head.

“Fine,” you grit out. Frustrated. You aim to smother your fear with sarcasm and puff your chest, hoping it works.

“You’re right, Joel. It’s true.” He doesn’t move, waiting to hear more.

“I missed your filthy mouth and your big fat cock.” You mock with an exaggerated whine. You keep going before you lose courage. “And my date couldn’t satisfy me.” You pause, steeling yourself. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Because even when I had his cock down my throat,” you force yourself to look in his eyes, “all I could think about was you.”

You tried to keep the snarky, biting tone in that last part, but your voice betrayed you when you met his eyes. It came out sounding as vulnerable as it felt to say. His expression flickers. You feel too honest. You should take it back. You want to curl up. He grins above you.

“I know, baby,” he coos. You hold your breath. Of course he’s going to be a condescending ass about it, you start to bemoan internally–but when he finally sinks into you, it shuts off your inner monologue and slows down time. “All I can fuckin’ think about,” he says as he fills you as deeply as possible, letting a satisfied sigh fall from his lips.

All I can fuckin’ think about.

The words rattle around in your mind. Joel begins to rock into you, deliberately grinding his pelvis against you. All he can think about is you, too? Or fucking you? Or how he’s ruined you for other men?

All I can fuckin’ think about.

It echoes in your head as he picks up his pace, splitting you open with heavy, mind-altering thrusts. Suffocatingly intimate. Face to face. Skin to skin. Soul to soul. His voice isn’t just echoing in your mind; he’s also running his mouth about something. Muttering about how he knew you’d be waiting for him, how he’s going to fuck you until you forget your date's name, how nobody else can satisfy your needy cunt.

Oh.

He’s not wrong. You want to hear more.

“Yes,” You can stoke this fire. You don’t mind finding out what happens if you rile him up while he’s inside you. “Only you,” you pant, “nobody else fucks me like you do.”

He makes a throaty noise in agreement and shifts. Large hands wrap around the back of your knees and press them towards your chest, tilting your hips up. You choke and sputter as he slams into you with force. The new angle creates a blissful intensity.

“That’s right,” he says, “nobody else.”

He pounds into you like he could fuck you through the mattress, maybe even through the floor. The lewd sound of his thighs slapping against your ass fill the room. You tuck your chin to your chest to watch the way each thrust makes your breasts bounce. You notice that he’s mesmerized by the same sight, and you take the opportunity to shift your gaze, studying the look on his face.

It’s more sensual than anything you’ve done together before. You can see the sweat beading on his chest from exertion. You’re nearly folded in half and unable to stop your soft cries and moans. It’s raw, sticky, and vulnerable. You feel warmed at the thought but also fragile. Breakable. Hypersensitive emotionally and physically. It’s all too bright and hot.

You let his voice push you over the edge, and your climax rips fiercely through your body. You faintly hear him groan as your tight walls contract around him, but his voice is drowned out by the pleasure. Your legs tremble, still balanced over his shoulders.

Your core muscles spasm as he keeps sawing into you until your hips are jerking at the sensitivity of your come down. He slows, breathing heavily over you. You can see the animalistic edge in his eyes. You have to push it. Play it out.

“Make me yours,” you incite.

You definitely just meant to imply, ‘fuck me hard and come inside me, please,’ but you worry he’s interpreted it differently when he drops your legs. Wrong. He turns you over, laying you flat on your stomach, pulling your arms behind your back, and pinning you to the bed. He straddles your closed legs. Your shoulders strain a little as he leans into you. His heavy body compresses your prone form, and his cock weighs heavy against the curve of your ass; it feels right. A perverted comfort blanket, stealing your breath.

“Repeat it,” he tells the back of your neck.

“Make me yours.” You turn your head to the side. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the string of curses he chants when he lines up and wedges himself into you. The added constriction of your position unravels you both.

“Mine,” he grunts. You muffle your own noises into the sheets, along for the ride. He doesn’t last much longer before you feel him still overtop of you. You close your eyes, focusing on the sensation of the pulsing and throbbing of his cock inside you as he fills you up. Breathing deep, your back rises against his chest before he slides off of you.

You roll onto your side. Facing each other, you still at the sight of him. Another breath shared between you, chests expanding towards each other. For the briefest moment, you think he might stay. You can see the soft edge of relaxation in his features. Your hand drifts toward him, an instinct based on nothing rational, just wanting to feel him. You feel the stupid, dreamy expression settling on your face. Before you can speak or figure out what you were reaching for, he’s snapped out of the bubble of tranquility. His walls are up.

He’s dressed and leaving, walking towards the door as you can only sigh into your dirty sheets.

He doesn’t even leave with a snide last word. Just the door closing.

if you'd like to be on a taglist please let me know !

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #fuckboy joel #dave york #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou smut #pedro pascal smut

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buckymorelikefuckme · 5 months

Text

FD,AU

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 594

warnings: **18+ ONLY** smut, explicit content, answering the phone while having sex, mild spanking. let me know if i missed anything.

a/n: listen, i'm trying to come up with new stuff but it's really hard for me rn, so pls enjoy this other orphaned work from ao3 that i'm bringing back here bc i'm an idiot. k thenks ilysm. any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged and appreciated ♡

Bucky has you face down, ass up, fucking into you roughly. He’s dragging moans and whimpers from deep within you, hitting all the right places. He brings his hand down to smack your ass.

“Fuck,” you gasp, clenching around his cock.

You hear him chuckle behind you. He does it again, and again, sending your pleasure soaring higher and higher. You’re sure your orgasm is just on the cusp… when his phone rings. Obviously, you expect him to ignore it. You don’t expect him to slam into you, and then pause suddenly.

“No, no,” you whine, trying to wriggle your hips to get him moving again as your pleasure winds down to a low hum.

He shushes you, squeezing your hip. You see his arm reach to the side where his phone rests on the sheets. You watch, bewildered, as he presses a button and lifts it to his ear.

“This is James,” he says as he answers.

You throw a wild look his way, silently asking him what the fuck he’s doing. His lips tilt up in a half grin.

“Oh, Mr. Hudson, so nice to hear from you,” he greets pleasantly, at the same time he drags his cock out slowly. He thrusts back in and continues. “I hadn’t expected a call until tomorrow.” A pause. “No, I’m not busy. What do you need?”

He lazily fucks you as he holds a conversation with the supposed Mr. Hudson, and all you’re able to do is lie there and take it. You do your best to be quiet, lest the man on the other end of the phone hear you and therefore what James is doing to you, but Bucky gives you a rough thrust, his cock hitting a spot that makes you cry out. He quickly bends, wrapping his hand around your mouth, but still never stopping his thrusting.

Your breathing turns harsh, little moans coming out muffled against his hand. He shoves his phone between his cheek and shoulder, using his now free hand to pull you up until your back is pressed against his chest.

“Sure, we can set up a meeting. When is best for you?”

With one hand still covering your mouth, his other slides down your torso until it slips between your legs, his fingers setting a quick rhythm on your clit. You whimper as you throw your head back to rest it on his shoulder.

“Sounds great. I’ll see you then, sir.”

He’s barely hung up the phone when he tosses it on the mattress. He fucks you hard and fast, pinching at your nipples and biting marks into your neck and shoulder. You’re a mess; noises being wrenched from you, sweat dripping down your back. Bucky’s panting against your skin as he gets closer and closer to climax.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says breathlessly.

A few more thrusts and you gasp, back arching, mouth hanging open in a silent scream, and then your body shudders, thighs shaking and trying to close around his hand. He groans as you clench around him, his rhythm faltering before he, too, stills. His hands surely leave bruises where they’re gripping you, but you’ll wear them with pride.

You both catch your breath for a moment, but then you reach behind you and pinch his thigh.

“Ow! What was that for?” he asks, rubbing at the sore spot.

“If you ever pull that shit again, I’ll punch you in the dick,” you threaten halfheartedly.

He laughs and kisses you on the cheek, winking when you glare at him over your shoulder.

#i'm sorry for not posting new stuff more regularly #i swear i'll get better about it :(#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #avengers fic #marvel fic

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galacticspaceguy · 2 years

Text

I, am cringe. But I am free.

It was finally the day. This wasn't what Soundwave would have ever dreamed of happening.

Soundwave was never one for showing his emotions, masking his feelings was so much better. But as of recently, he almost entirely let himself go. His spark fluttered in ways he was unfamiliar with.

He remembered these feelings as slight notions he felt towards his ex-leader.

He was never like this with Megatron. This is so much more.

He looked over himself one last time. Nothing changed much. Except for the excessive gold that draped over his shoulders, waists and arms, and a purple cape, with the Decepticon insignia on it in a brighter purple.

Most of this was Starscream’s idea. But… Soundwave supposed he didn’t mind. Plus, Soundwave had his own surprise for the ceremony.

“SOUNDWAVE!!” Frenzy bursted into his room.

“Frenzy?” Soundwave was starting to finally use his actual voice after centuries.

“We’re starting- Woah.” Frenzy stopped and stared.

“Did I mess something up!? I knew something looked off-“

“You look so good!” Frenzy screamed. She ran up and grabbed Soundwave’s hand. “Now let’s go, your future conjunx Endura awaits!”

“You finally approve of me and Starscream’s relationship?” Soundwave lightened up. Perhaps there was hope-

“Haha! No.” Frenzy scowled. “But Starscream is gonna let me play my guitar, so…”

“Of course he did.” Soundwave sighed.

The Nemesis was beautiful. Rows of Decepticon flags were hanged up. There was energon, music, and a crowd of happy Decepticons.

Either they came because there was energon, or because no one has seen a proper bonding since the early parts of the war, where young bots and cons were ready to get their sparks tied before death got to them first.

Everyone went silent when old Cybertronian music started picking up, Frenzy’s guitar playing in soft rifts. All eyes were on Soundwave. Then the door on the other side of the room opened. Starscream stepped out, wearing gold and a cape similar to Soundwave’s, with the addition of a gold crown, with one big red jewel on its crest.

The Decepticon’s parted, making a clear path for the two. They were the envy of all. When they had finally met in the middle, their hands roughly held the others, not wanting to let go. It almost felt surreal.

Soundwave took in every bit of Starscream’s beauty. From the slight makeup to the polished paint.

“You look beautiful.” Soundwave whispered.

“Look who’s talking.” Starscream smirked, leaning in ever so slightly.

Starscream and Soundwave had already gone through most of the conjunx rituals, the four ceremonial acts that made them whole.

Now this would make it more publicity official.

They just had to finish the “Act of Devotion” showing off the admiration and desire they held for one another. Though Starscream had a few sincere words to say, Soundwave had something more planned.

They stood on a higher platform, next to the control panels and the warships screens.

They looked out at their people.

Time to start the ceremony.

It was the dead of night. They planned to sneak onto the Nemesis and recapture all the Decepticons that had escaped Ghost’s prisons. Optimus picked up a few more Autobots for the mission, but they were a small force against the Cons, even with Ghost’s forces right behind them.

“Megatron, are you certain?” Optimus knelt down beside him. “That’s about a few hundred Decepticons in that ship.”

“This will work.” It has to. “If we keep holding off to recapture those cons, the more we put this town, this planet, in danger.”

“We are putting ourselves, and these humans, in danger.” Optimus glanced towards the dozens of humans in black vans behind them.

“We have to do this.” Megatron was stubborn. Optimus sighed, walking away.

“Besides, they’re under Starscream’s command, how bad could it be?” Megatron called out after him. Joking even though Megatron was also doubting himself.

This has to work. And it will.

They approached the Nemesis, human forces surrounding it. The Autobots were planning an attack from above, managing to get onto the Nemesis’s roof.

“Is this a good idea?” Arcee whispered.

“Of course it is. No one will know we’re up here.” Megatron replied, coming off ruder than he anticipated.

“You didn’t install a defense mechanism for your warship's roof!?” Elita yelled, (quietly)

“I never needed too. I didn’t think you’d Autobots were that insane.” Megatron looked back at them.

“So you admit this plan is insane?” Bumblebee butted in.

Megatron rolled his eyes and sighed angrily. He stopped when he reached the far end of the metal roof.

“This is the main deck.”

Elita started to tear at the metal roofing.

Crack.

Oh no. Megatron should’ve repaired his ship after that meteor shower 3 thousand years ago.

Soundwave was ready to break the oath. The oath of never showing his face again. Being a spy meant giving up a lot of things. But he isn’t anyone’s spy anymore. The ceremony was almost over, then Starscream and Soundwave would connect their sparks in private to finish the ritual. Soundwave ran a hand over Starscream’s chest.

It was all so perfect. Until they heard an explosion from the ceiling.

Multiple Autobots fell from the ceiling. They grunted and groaned as they got up. Among them was Megatron.

Soundwave’s visior would have cracked right then and there. His fists tightened, almost blowing up that dragged right here and now.

“Wha…” Megatron gained back his grip on reality, quickly firing up his fusion cannon. He looked around the room, then his gaze landed on Soundwave and Starscream.

“Is this a Conjunx ceremony?” Megatron muttered, asking, not just stating facts.

Soundwave wanted to cuss, scream, and attack, but Starscream was already getting to that.

“Must you Autobots ruin everything!?”

The rest of the Autobots had adjusted already.

“Never took you for the settling down type, Screamer-“ Elita started, then noticed Megatron. His eyes showed hurt as his fusion cannon lowered.

“Let’s finish this now, Cons!” Bumblebee said, charismatically.

“Decepticons! Attack- “ Starscream started to scream out orders, before Soundwave stopped him, Soundwave’s hand landing on his chest.

Soundwave looked at Megatron. Behind the mask there was hate in Soundwave’s eyes.

They were over.

Soundwave pulled Starscream in, catching him in a dip.

A collective gasp was let out by everyone, even Starscream, as Soundwave’s mask unhitched. Soundwave’s blue eyes locked with Starscream’s red ones.

In a moment Soundwave locked Starscream in a kiss. Their sparks flowed with a vibrant blue, interlocking with each other. That was about half the deed to be done.

Soundwave pulled a shaken Starscream up.

“Now, you may attack.”

#transformers #transformers earthspark #earthspark #tf earthspark #earthspark soundwave #earthspark starscream #soundstar #earthspark megatron #starscream #earthspark optimus #soundwave #i’m opening ao3 rn #fanfic #will probably make a part 2 #mmm gay people

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artdcnaldson · 4 months

Text

cat. 24. she/her.

main acct + stranger things sideblog

Minors DNI, 18+ Only

Requests are open (but I’m slow) 🩷

masterlist

🌿FICS🌿

Changeover Universe

all asks/blurbs tagged here

💚 changeover || art x reader, patrick x reader

💚 tie break || art x reader, patrick x reader

+ BONUS (Patrick’s POV, Fall 2006)

+ BONUS (Valentines Day, 2007)

+ BONUS (March, 2007)

+ BONUS (Patrick’s POV, Summer, 2007)

+ BONUS (Art’s POV, Spring, 2008)

+ BONUS (Spring, 2010)

🫧BLURBS🫧

🎀 Patrick x Art x Reader

🎀 Patrick x Reader

🎀 Tashi x Reader x Art

🎀 Art x Reader

🎀 Patrick x Reader

🎀 Art x Reader (Olympics AU pt. 1)

🎀 Art x Reader (Olympics AU pt. 2)

🎀 Patrick x Reader (good luck babe au)

Sex Lessons AU (patrick x reader x art x tashi)

all asks/blurbs tagged here

🎀 One

🎀 Two

🎀 Three

🎀 Four

AU List (stars mean they’re top of mind rn)

Patrick’s Sister AU ✨

Prodigy AU ✨

Role Reversal AU

Polycule AU ✨

Puppy!Art AU

Art’s Sister AU

Corrupting Art AU

Sex Lessons AU

Stepbro!Patrick AU ✨

Current Emoji Anons: 🐞 🫀 🐚 🎀 💫 🤠 🐾 🍣 🌸 🐝 🍓 🐀 🎱 🪩 💐 🐛 💗 🌞 🩰 🧌 🐧 🌷 🎞️ 🎬 🐼 🫐 🦧 🌱 🪐 🔮🕊️✨🐙 🍀

AO3 Rec List

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cranberryjuice-posts · 5 months

Note

Sorry for breaking your window to get in here but since where already on the topic of B & E what about Clarisse x Daughter of Hermes where the Hermes Cabin and the boys from the Ares cabin started a prank war with each other and Clarisse is PISSED because she gets getting caught in the crossfire and when reader breaks into the Ares cabin to set up a prank but she accidentally wakes up Clarisse.

- it’s all fun and games -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Hermes! Reader

An - i feel like I don’t use AN’s properly but who cares also my ao3 series is almost finished also I cuss way to fucking much I mean damn 😭😭 irl I say fuck every 3 words dude I have a problem

An Pt 2 - I Hope thus is good I’m going through a rough writers block rn

For the entire summer. The entire fucking summer clarisse has been dealing with everyone’s bullshit.

Her brothers had for some reason started a season long war with the Hermes cabin. Probably because over some girl which she honestly found pathetic, even though deep down she would do worse if someone tried shit with you.

So here, clarisse currently found herself looking in shock with her cabin floor covered in Greek fire ash marks. Annoyed she mentally came up with a punishment for later. Deep in thought she hadn’t realized you were behind her for cabin check up.

You let out a soft breath before gently hitting the open door. Clarisse turned around, her face going from anger to flustered.

“Hey” she stumbled slightly on her words.

You shyly waved. “Cabin check?” There was a moment of silence, just enough for you to notice the mess behind her. “I can always lie— I know how my brothers get” you tried to offer a better solution than failing the check.

Acting like she was Un-phased she shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault. Shouldn’t have to cover for them ”

“Well I’m just trying to help” You chuckled, the gap between you closing quickly.

As much as clasisse complained about the summer there was still one good part, you. Flirting at every bonfire turned into spending free time together which eventually lead to you both kissing at the end of last night. “I guess I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Yeah” she shrugged. It was cute how she tried to play off her embarrassment. Reaching out you fixed clarisses necklace, Making it symmetrical on her body. With a sarcastic sigh you looked back at the Greek fire stains before looking back up at her. “I’ll come back in an hour that work for you?”

“Yeah id really appreciate it” she smiled softly.

You wished you were an Aphrodite girl, able to leave a room with beauty and want. Instead you left almost to quickly, embarrassment fueling your steps. By the time you reached the last step your face felt hot, and your body felt fuzzy. She was going to be the death of you.

———

“I’m not doing that” you cocked an eyebrow up as your brothers proposed another prank.

“Just this once” Connor practically begged. Walking past Chris smacked him upside his head, the prank they were trying to get you to do? Sneak into the ares cabin and cover it in silly string. Their reasoning for having you do it was because clarisse wouldn’t kill you.

“If she doesn’t want to do it she doesn’t have to” Chris sighed, taking a seat on his bunk.

Your brothers however couldn’t handle that as an appropriate response. Whispering to each other you saw their faces turn into a devilish grin. “Fine” they started off with false security “You don’t have to do it, but we can always tell Chiron about the secret green plant business you help the Dionysius and Demeter cabin run”

Giving them an agitated look you stood up and snatched the silly string out of their hand. “Fuck you” they always found a reason to black mail you. The trick was starting to get old.

It wasn’t until 12am that you snuck into the ares cabin. Coming in through the window you were a little worried about what a cabin full of war kids would do if someone came in. Looking back one more time to see your brothers giving you a thumbs up from afar.

Calming your nerves you took the first step inside. Silently spraying the string the stale chemical smell hit you like a truck. A few kids tossed and turned, the fear of waking one up made you work faster.

Shoving another empty can into your bag you pulled out the last one. The only section left was clarisses. The section you had been dreading of doing. Silently walking over you caught a glimpse of her drooling in her sleep. You wished your had a camera to capture the rare moment. She was beautiful, even in her most vulnerable state. Snapping out of your thoughts you remembered you had a job to do.

Stepping back with a heavy heart your foot sunk into a loose board, a loud creaking sound filling the room. It was less than a second before you felt a harsh hit to your face and your body on the floor.

Not really paying attention to your surroundings with ringing in your ears. The lights came on and a pair of strong hands grabbed the side of your arms. A few kids were shouting and in the background you could almost make out the front door opening.

Coming back you felt blood trail down your face from your nose and clarisse looking guilty at you. Her hands squeezing your arms as she couldn’t say anything. You groaned and held your head back exhausted.

Being moved to a bed you were barley able to understand what was happening in-front of you. In the background both cabins were yelling at one another, it felt like a fight might break out. Clarisse was crouched infront of you trying to asses your now broken nose. You could tell she was starting to loose her patience.

At first you didn’t hear anything. The ringing went away however when clarisse slammed her spear on the ground commanding the attention to her.

“ENOUGH! Everybody who is not my sibling get out now! And to everyone else I want a first aid kit some ice, nectar, ambrosia, and i want this cabin cleaned now!” A strong silence filled the room before the ares kids got to work. If looks could kill the Hermes cabin would had dropped dead. “Whatever you all have going on ends now understand! Im sick and tired of dealing with all of your bullshit and Luke you need to get a better control over your siblings!”

They nodded. Not even Luke wanted to speak, he just whistled his sibling’s out. In less than five minutes you watched as the cabin almost cleaned itself. In less than five minutes clarisse had began gently trying to bandage the broken bone, trying to take some pain away.

Helping feed a bite of ambrosia you felt your nose begin to mend on its own. Though it would still need a week to heal. Letting out a sigh of relief you finally looked up at her, up at Clarisse who was acting like a coward.

“It’s not your fault” you tried.

“I broke your nose, seems like my fault”

“And you thought I was an intruder it’s not the end of the world” you sighed grabbing her hand. It didn’t matter who was at fault it just came down to how it was handled.

She looked like she wanted to speak but she just couldn’t make the words. “If you really want to make it up to me you can always ask me out on a date” Looking up through your lashes you swore you saw her cheeks turn red.

“Y-yeah I can do that” trying to play it off but it was too late. You giggled slightly, leaning forward to close the gap and softly kiss her. Feel her rough lips against yours.

Her hands found home on your torso, traveling up and down while pulling you closer in an attempt to deepen it. Breaking away only for a moment clarisse looked over at her siblings who some stopped cleaning.

Barking orders at them to continue she looked back with a sarcastic expression making you laugh.

Laying down beside her on the small bed you looked deep into her eyes, not wanting to say a word. It felt like every emotion you two had felt for one another was known.

Giving her another soft kiss you tucked your head away into her neck. It didn’t take long to fall asleep and shockingly for the ares cabin, when the lights were out and everyone was asleep there was a peaceful quiet. One that comforted and lulled a person into a deep sleep.

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse larue #clarisse my beloved #percy jackson show #pjo fandom #clarisse x female reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you

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ihavemanyhusbands · 4 months

Text

High Risk

PART TWO: SILVER TONGUED DEVIL

Also on AO3

Part One // Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Nurse!Fem!Reader

WC: 3.1k words

Chapter Summary: In order to form a deeper connection with Hannibal, hoping to keep him complacent, Doctor Chilton allows you to have dinner with him…. Mostly unsupervised.

Warnings: MINORS DNI THIS FIC IS 18+, slight canon divergence (frederick is still head of baltimore state hospital), manipulation all around, some jealousy, corruption, smut, handjob, kinda audio voyeurism but not really?, also kinda exhibitionistic but not really??, some alcohol consumption, aaaand thats all i can think of rn but lmk if i missed anything!

————-

You waited outside of the double doors with a guard, patiently carrying Hannibal’s meal tray. He had a visitor, a mutual acquaintance of Doctor Chilton’s, and they were not to be disturbed.

You couldn’t understand why you had to be standing there, but you figured it was a power move on Doctor Chilton’s part. Reminding you of your place.

Your eyes flicked up to the security camera in the corner, suspecting he was watching more than one of them at a time. More than half an hour had passed, the silence stretching on infinitely. The guard had briefly tried to engage you in small talk, but he had quickly realized it was pointless. You already knew what sort of questions he would ask if he felt like he had any leeway, and you were not in the mood for it.

Already there were rumors speculating the sort of favors Hannibal was asking of you. You’d felt the gazes on you, caught the murmurs behind your back. You couldn’t deny that the more animal part of you, the one that had no such regard for personal safety, hadn’t thought about him that way.

A few times, he had slipped a folded piece of paper for you to find when you retrieved his meal trays. Always sketches of you, symbolic renditions meant to convey messages. His attention to detail was astounding. Almost… devoted, in a way.

Every time you posed for him, you found yourself enjoying his focus more and more. The thrill of it all was narcotic, but you only hated that it had brought other people’s attention to you.

The doors suddenly opened and a tall, well dressed woman stepped out. She was strikingly beautiful, with icy blue eyes and neatly styled dark hair. Her lips were painted ruby, which further accentuated her features in an elegant but almost severe way.

Doctor Alana Bloom was her name. You’d heard of her from both Doctor Chilton and Hannibal, but you hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting her in person until then.

“My, you’re a looker,” she said, inspecting you as if you were an insect under a microscope. “No wonder.”

You only smiled politely, internally seething. She could see right through you, smiling in return.

“He’ll charm the pants off you if you’re not careful.”

With that, she walked away, heels clicking down the hallway. The guard next to you let out a huff and you shot a glare in his direction.

He pushed off the wall and followed her, while you turned the other way and slipped into Hannibal’s cell room.

“Sorry, it might be a little cold,” you said as a greeting, making your way over to the slot.

“You were waiting for me?” He asked.

“I was told to wait until you were done, yes.”

He noticed you were avoiding looking at him, though the displeasure itself wasn’t directed at him. He smiled a little to himself with satisfaction.

“Doctor Bloom is an old colleague of mine, but our history goes a little further than that,” he said. “A futile affair, that was.”

“No rekindling the flame then?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

Of course that wasn’t what the visit was about, you knew as much. But you were still bristling from her words, and the smugness in them.

“No,” Hannibal said. “I’m afraid we are mutually uninterested, though we have some business left over.”

You hummed in thought, composing yourself. “I apologize for asking, it’s none of my business.”

“You may ask me whatever you want. I won’t mind telling you.”

You tilted your head to the side, where another camera was perched up in the corner.

“We don’t have such liberties,” you said pointedly. “Though who knows? Maybe there’s an argument for our case.”

With that, a small, coquettish grin and a glance in his direction. Hannibal sat up straighter, licking his lips. He glanced up at the camera, also well aware that Frederick was listening.

If anything, the two of you had been enjoying toying with him in any small way you could. It drove him crazy, but he mostly seethed in silence, knowing he was equally matched in this game.

“Perhaps dinner might be a good place to start,” he said.

“Oh yes, I would like that very much,” you said, exaggerating a wistful sigh. “But we shall see.”

————————————

“You know, you’re getting a little bold with all these requests,” Doctor Chilton said, arms crossed over his chest.

“I know you have your methods of trying to get information out of him — or at least you think so,” you said, unbothered. “I mean, he has been much more forthcoming because of me, hasn’t he? I have my methods, too.”

He let out a sardonic chuckle. “Clearly. Others seem to think so, too, no?”

You didn’t give in to his goading, changing the subject instead. “Much luck with Doctor Bloom?”

“Some, actually,” he said, his sneer faltering. “But that shouldn’t really concern you. You’re still his favorite little doll to play with.”

And you mine, you thought to yourself, containing a grin.

“I’m aware,” you said instead, raising an eyebrow. “So it’s not too unreasonable to have dinner with him, especially with the glass still separating us.”

“Oh, but you’d be so much more useful if you were up close and personal. I could put you in one of the interrogation rooms and keep him handcuffed... But the problem is, he asked for total privacy. No cameras and no audio recordings,” he countered. “I cannot possibly do both. You know that’s not how it works.”

You pretended to think about it for a moment, but you already knew what the obvious answer was.

“No cameras, then,” you said. “I would say that’s fair, no? You might not care for the video footage, anyway, not without sound.”

He narrowed his eyes but nodded in assent, knowing it was the best he would get. The ghost of a self-satisfied smile was on your lips, pleasure at getting what you wanted dancing in your eyes.

As long as the rest of the team was getting the information they needed, by whatever means necessary, he supposed he couldn’t grouse too much. Regardless, that didn’t make him any less annoyed at being backed into a corner.

“You get an hour and a half tops,” he said with finality. “Work your magic. And wear something nice, why don’t you?”

————————————

The table had already been set for you when you arrived. A mediocre attempt at something romantic, with a few little tea lights and a half-dead flower in a plastic cup. You supposed the guards couldn’t be bothered with such nonsense, but it was also more mockery on Frederick’s part.

But at that very moment, you couldn’t care less. In fact, you found yourself… excited for the night's events.

It was nice not to wear your uniform for once, your nicest black dress in its place. It was nothing too special, but you only wore it on certain occasions, such as dates.

And while this may be the macabre version of a date, it was a date nonetheless.

You’d styled your hair differently, put on a little make up and even wore perfume, which you were rarely able to do. It was liberating in a way, as if granting you permission to step out of bounds a little more. You wouldn’t waste such an opportunity.

Your heels clicked softly on the linoleum floor as you slowly paced the room, anxiously waiting. You glanced down at your watch, and right as it hit eight o’clock, the door opened. Hannibal was led in by a guard, his hands cuffed in front of him. He smiled at the sight of you, his eyes roaming up and down to better appreciate you.

Your heart immediately started racing, both from nerves and giddiness. You focused solely on him as he was led to the table, the situation becoming less surreal by the second. Despite the fact that he was in his usual jumpsuit, you could tell he had meticulously groomed himself as best as he could.

Another guard came in to place two trays on the table, but the food wasn’t from the cafeteria. Apparently, Hannibal had been allowed to cook a two-course meal, dessert included. There was even some wine, but you had to settle for plastic cups instead of glasses. Not that either of you seemed to mind, too busy sizing each other up.

It felt strange, not seeing him through a thick panel of glass, but it was even stranger to sit right across from him. You only had to reach out your arm and you’d be able to touch him… if it wasn’t forbidden, of course.

“I’m surprised Doctor Chilton did not join us for dinner,” he said as the guard cuffed him to the table.

“He’ll be here in spirit,” you said, briefly nodding at the two guards before they stepped out of the room. “But I think it’s better this way, don’t you agree?”

“Much better,” he agreed, pausing a moment until the door finally shut. “You look beautiful, by the way… And you smell good enough to eat. Just as I thought you would.”

You grinned at his dark sense of humor, suppressing a shudder as you crossed your legs and leaned back. “Well, flattery will get you anywhere.”

“And wine?”

He grabbed the already uncorked bottle of wine and raised his eyebrows. You nodded and he poured for both of you.

“We shall see,” you said, taking the cup from him and holding his gaze.

“Well, a toast to our very gracious host,” he said, raising his cup. “For making all this happen.”

You tapped your cup against his with a soft cheers before taking a sip. He proceeded to give you a detailed explanation of what you would be eating, nearly putting you in a trance. His voice had a hypnotic quality to it, managing to soothe your nerves. Without really noticing, the two of you were leaning forward, the conversation taking on an almost intimate quality – even if the subject matter was anything but.

Before he touched his food, he encouraged you to try first. He watched you eat, his amber eyes lingering on your lips as you licked them. You had never tasted anything so complex or refined, but knowing it was put together by him made it even more of a delicacy. You let out a pleasured hum, barely holding back from getting another bite.

“My compliments to the chef,” you said, taking another sip of wine instead. “It’s almost enough to convince me to eat anything you cook.”

He chuckled. “Oh, if we were not within these four walls, I would have made a whole feast just for you. I’m sure Frederick has told you of my dinner parties.”

“But then it’s likely we wouldn’t have met outside these walls,” you said, not wanting to talk about Doctor Chilton. “Unless, of course, you frequent this sort of place.”

“I am not unfamiliar, I will give you that,” he said. “But our meeting has been the only good thing about this whole situation, and for that, I am grateful.”

You put a hand on your chest, teasingly pretending to be touched. “How sweet, are you going to quote more Byron for me next?”

He laughed, finally digging into his food. Conversation flowed with surprising ease as you continued to eat. Perhaps it was partly due to the wine, but it also helped that you were eager to listen to his thoughts on things. You were well aware of his intelligence, and it was stimulating to finally talk to someone that had so many layers to uncover.

By the time you got to dessert, he was bold enough to spoon feed you the first bite, awaiting your reaction. The taste was just as amazing, but you were more interested in the gesture. The way he was gazing at you with ardor, kindling your insides – A hunger of a different kind.

“Tell me something,” he said, clearing his throat. “If it weren’t for Frederick, would you have accepted an invitation to dine with me?”

“Depends, if you’d played your cards right, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it would’ve been possible.” You tilted your head to one side slightly. “But you’re much too valuable, are you not? They have to keep you happy.”

“You certainly have.”

You let out a huff of amusement, propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin on your hand. Briefly, you thought again of all the rumors circulating about the two of you. This time, though, it didn’t really seem to matter all that much anymore. They’ll keep talking anyway, so why not just do whatever the hell I want?

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Do you always manage to get what you want?”

He shrugged as if he couldn’t help it, making you chuckle. “What’s your secret, hmm? How do you do it?”

“You aren’t able to come any closer, are you?”

“Of course not, Hannibal.” You pretended to scoff. “We’ve got to keep our hands to ourselves, too.”

There was a devilish grin on your face as you slowly got up from your seat. You slipped your shoes off and brought a finger to your lips to indicate silence. It was titillating, truth be told, to be straddling the fine line between reckless abandon and caution. Especially when you were clearly leaning more towards one side.

“Pity,” he said, watching your every move, smile mirroring your own. “I would have liked to whisper it in your ear.”

You slid onto the chair next to him and he turned his body to face you. You looked down at his jumpsuit, locating the zipper, before looking back into his eyes. He slightly dipped his chin in assent, and you reached a hand up to his chest.

“Tell me something else, then,” you said, dragging it down slowly so as not to make much noise.

“Like what?” he asked, holding his breath as more and more of his body was revealed.

His blood was quickly flowing south, the consequences of this becoming apparent as the zipper reached the end of the line. Your mouth fell open in both surprise and eagerness, exhaling a shuddery breath. He kept his hands off as you carefully eased his erection out of his underwear, fingertips brushing the velvety underside.

“Anything at all,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. “You’re a romantic, aren’t you? I want to hear your ideas on love.”

You stood up and slid your panties down your legs without lifting your dress too much. You watched him swallow hard as you sat back down, letting the fabric fall on his lap.

“For the mess,” you whispered in his ear, your body pressed close to his. “And a little souvenir for you to keep after.”

He nodded, spine straightening as you planted a kiss just beneath his earlobe. You held his gaze as you spat in the palm of your hand and reached down to curl your fingers around his shaft. His hips immediately bucked into your grip, and you heard him suck in a breath.

“Love, hmm?” He cleared his throat. “You want to know what makes me tick?”

“Absolutely,” you purred, hand moving up and down slowly, wrist flicking slightly when you reached the tip. “Though I may already have a few ideas...”

As much as you wanted to tease him, elongating his pleasure, you didn’t have much time to spare. Your faces were close together, but you fought off the urge to kiss him. His breathing became more labored as your hand continued its rhythmic movements, the heady scent of you – and of your arousal – enveloping him.

He’d had his fantasies about you on many late nights, but your actual touch was another thing entirely, better than what he could have imagined. And knowing he was affecting you in the same way… the chain of his handcuff rattled against the table a little as he strained, trying his hardest not to touch you back. He would want you to be loud, anyway, and that was not an option there.

“W-well, I certainly like to be surprised,” he said haltingly. “And I admire boldness. But to love in itself is a bold a-action, wouldn’t you agree?

“I wouldn’t know much about that,” you said, slicking his pre-cum around the head of his cock with your thumb. “But I do know how to be a lover.”

The light graze of your teeth on his earlobe made his body jerk, his cock pulsing in your hand. You picked up the pace, his chest heaving as his hips almost involuntarily rocked to meet each stroke. Your lips moved to his jaw and down to his neck, and you listened to him babble about something else, trying to fill in the silence.

Your attention was on his body’s reactions and you could tell he was dangerously close to the edge. You silently warned him not to stop talking as his cock began to twitch, and you had only seconds before you quickly had to cover your hand with your discarded panties. He bit his bottom lip as he spilled all over the fabric, little noises of pleasure stuck in his throat, one hand gripping your arm.

You smiled against his skin, lavishing his neck with some more attention as he faintly sighed your name. And when he was done riding out his high, you turned his face towards you and planted a small kiss on his lips as if to reward him.

He was panting, still lost in the dizzying aftershocks of his orgasm, but you helped clean him up some and zipped his jumpsuit back up, your panties still hidden within. You glanced down at your watch, seeing you only had twenty minutes left.

You slipped back to your side of the table as if nothing was amiss, but the devious glint in your eyes was undeniable. He was lost and he knew it, already wanting – no, needing – more. So much more. Luckily, it was as you had said; He’d always been good at getting what he wanted.

“I’ve had a really good time tonight, Hannibal,” you sighed contentedly, already aware you would be carrying this with you for the rest of the night. “You sure are good company.”

“As are you,” he said, his voice calmer, though something was lurking underneath. “Perhaps… we might arrange for it to happen soon.”

A thrill danced over your skin at the prospect of it. “Perhaps. Only if you’re on your best behavior.”

------

#Hannibal Lecter x reader #Hannibal Lecter x nurse!reader #Hannibal Lecter fanfiction #Hannibal Lecter smut #Hannibal fanfiction #Hannibal smut #minors dni #mini series

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pl4ygrrrl · 2 years

Text

☆*:.｡. GHOST X KÖNIG X READER !

a/n: OKAY here’s some very short and obvious poly headcanons. i left the relationship between ghost and könig kinda vague to leave it up to y’all. these are SFW i might do nsfw idk. i’m sick as shit rn so, sorry that these are short and possibly suck skdjd. i’ve never done headcanons before. ALSOOO, this is just how i personally see being in a poly relationship with them would be like. you don’t have to agree :)

i do have an ao3 account that has my old fanfics on it :)

how y’all met is entirely up to you, but you definitely initiated the relationship.

i’m gonna state the obvious: SCARY DOG PRIVILEGE. wanna go on a spontaneous late night walk? congrats, you can now do that with them with you.

i firmly believe they both give off an insane amount of body heat, so if you get cold often? not anymore! you have two personal heaters.

another obvious one: ghost is the holder of the singular brain cell between you three. but sometimes he loses it.

date nights are usually spent at home but on the rare occasion you all decide to go out, ghost is the one who organizes everything.

the sleeping arrangements would be AWFUL. i feel like könig kicks in his sleep, sometimes mumbles, and ghost is like a fucking log he never moves.

going off that, i see ghost as a heavy sleeper but also not? like, when he’s at home he could sleep through a car alarm BUT if you dared to get up out of bed to get something to drink or use the bathroom, he’s wide awake asking “where are you going? what are you doing?”

könig likes to make y’all breakfast :). ghost scarfs that shit down, plz remind him to take the time to actually taste the food

i’m so so sorry but if you have squishmallows or any plushies, ghost seems like the type to punch them when you leave the room

ghost accidentally tightens all the lids on the jars super tight and has gotten a full on lecture in german from könig bc he struggled for 15 minutes trying to open a jar and instead of admitting he struggled, he uses you as an excuse for the lecture. “what if y/n tried to open it?!?”

if you and könig got into an argument you guys would use ghost as your messenger boy like “plz tell könig to pass me a fork.” “plz tell y/n they have good perfectly working hands they can use to grab themselves a fork.” no, ghost doesn’t relay the messages because you guys are literally sitting across from each other.

overall though, being with them both is so comforting they give off comfy vibes and no i won’t elaborate because i can’t.

#you guys have to be nice im sick #konig mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #konig x reader #könig x reader #ghost x könig x reader #1k #grays writings #2k

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eetherealgoddess · 8 months

Text

Before you continue, this ends dark as hell so I’m gonna warn you rn!!! Hope you like it anyway! ♡︎♡︎

ꨄEscaping Bonten is for Scrapsꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten/Assassin Au

❦You are an assassin that’s after a target Bonten already has their paws on❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Escaping Bonten is for Scraps

You eye around the busy nightclub, pushing through the crowd as you search for your assigned target. Eyebrows furrowed as your nose scrunches at the thick tobacco smell mixed with alcohol and a variety of cologne and perfume.

“Where is this guy?” You hiss, shoving a drunk person to the side as you head to the back of the building. Once you push the doors open, you see the tall staircase, sighing before stepping on.

Why did I have to get assigned to a club?

It’s not that you were against the party scene, it’s just not ideal for a mission to find someone you need to kill. Your boss chose you for the assignment created by a bitter divorcee. You roll your eyes as you remember the file stating, “Please murder my cheating ex husband.” Of course, your company is underground and perfect for not being caught, though why risk going to prison over a cheating spouse?

Fortunately, this should be fairly quick. The soon to be deceased spouse is known for his drinking habit, speaking belligerently as he drunkenly walks from bar to bar which makes him an easy target. You followed him here, his third club of the night. You couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him considering he is just minding his business and drinking on his lonesome. Sure, he’s bitter as well and is a slob but it’s probably just a down point in his life.

At least I’ll put him out of his misery.

Once you reach the top of the staircase, noticing that the whole floor is empty, you pull your gun out, readying it to use. You hold it down to your side as you walk from room to room, searching for your victim. When you see that the whole upper stairs is empty, you hide your gun, and walk towards the exit of the room you just entered. Your eyes widened when you heard a scream coming from behind you.

You turn around and quickly move to the window, squatting, hiding yourself behind the wall so the people outside couldn’t see you. Easing your head up, you peeked to the outside. Standing at the back of the building, a group of men in suits hover around a kneeling man who’s covering his head as one of the men slams his foot against his side, causing him to fall over. You notice a smaller man who stood in the middle of the suited men walk closer to the male on the ground.

Your eyebrows raise when the man is forced to put his arms down as the shorter man crouches in front of him, realizing the guy is your target.

“What did this guy get himself into?” You whisper to yourself before moving quickly to crack the window so you can decipher what’s occurring.

“You owe us a lot of money, Nakamura.” A man with two blonde strands says, his wide eyes staring deeply at the victim.

“I-I know! I’m going th-through a divorce. I j-just need more time!” He coughs out blood in between his words. The short man in front of him leans in.

“You’ve wasted my time.” He stands up before moving back, motioning for the purple haired man holding the baton to walk forward.

He swings his arms back before slamming them down with a smirk on his face. He repeatedly hits the man over and over again with so much force that blood splatters on his own suit. The man cries out in pain as he becomes light headed.

You wince as you watch this painful sight.

Damn, now I’m feeling even more bad for this guy. I think I’m just going to go ahead and shoot him. Help him out, forreal.

Standing up completely, you aim at the man’s head perfectly with the gun. Without needing the other guy to stop beating him, you pull the trigger, a shot ringing out loudly. The bullet penetrates his head, killing him on the spot. The men, startled, looked around their surroundings as the pink haired man turned to the window, his blue eyes catching yours before you turned on your heel and ran.

“Fuck, he saw me!” You hiss as you run down the stairs, gun hidden as you push through the crowd.

Fortunately, it looks as though you all are into some shady business, though that doesn’t mean you want to catch their attention. You run out of the exit and rush to your car parked at the side of the building.

“Shit, shit, shit!” You rush to unlock the car before hopping in. Before you could close the door, a hand blocks the door. Your wide eyes meet purple orbs before you're pulled out of the car by your shirt. Before you could grab your gun, your front is forced against the car as your gun is grabbed and aimed at your head. The man with the purple mullet holds your arms behind your back with one hand. Before you could say anything, the butt of the gun meets your head, darkness engulfing your vision.

When you first wake up, your eyes meet a dimly lit warehouse, a throbbing pain at the side of your head causes you to pull against the restraints you didn’t know were there to touch your head. Groaning your eyes, the rope strategically tied around your ankles strapping you to the chair.

“Damn.” You breathe out. The click of a gun sounded next to your head causing you to make eye contact with the blue-eyed man you saw before.

“You’re an assassin working for an underground company, right Y/n?” You look up to see the short man sitting on a chair in front of you at a distance. The men stood around him, eyeing you.

“Who am I answering to?” You question, resulting in the gun being pushed against your head harder causing you to wince, the spot where you were once hit feeling raw under the barrel of the weapon.

“I don’t repeat myself.” The sunken eyed man states, his white hair hovering over his face.

“Yes.” You spit out, frustration being the only emotion to decipher at the moment.

“You work for Bonten.” You gasp at the familiar name.

“What the hell are you talking about?” The gun smacks against your face, forcing your head to lean to the side as you squeeze your eyes shut in pain.

“Watch your mouth.” The pink haired man growls, using one hand to force your head back in place before replacing the barrel in the same spot.

“You will keep your assassin title and you will work under the executives.” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Or what?” You hiss. The pale man signals for the taller short haired man to walk towards you holding his baton. He smiles before pulling it back and slamming it against your stomach. You lean forward before coughing out blood.

“You die.” Your new boss states.

A few months pass before you’re completely used to the yakuza scene. There are times when you wonder what exactly did they see in you to ‘hire’ you as an assassin working under the executives. It wasn’t a hard job, basically like the one you were used to besides the power dynamic. Although you worked under an old boss, he treated everyone equally and you had normal coworkers who you’d go out to the bars with occasionally. You were free to live your own life as long as you didn’t get caught.

Working under Bonten, you weren’t allowed the same freedom as your executives. Your job title was assassin but considering their low respect for you, sometimes you were a maid, assistant, butler, etc. At least that’s what it felt like when you had to run errands for them that didn’t involve shooting a bullet in someone’s head. Sure it’s nicer than killing but who wants to work to serve a bunch of disrespectful men?

Not to mention, you weren’t allowed outside without being accompanied by one of the executives. Of course, the executives you wouldn’t mind being around such as Mochi, Kakucho, Koko, and Takeomi weren’t the ones who accompanied you. It was always the Haitani brothers, Kazutora, or Sanzu. Even when you’re supposed to be off the clock you were always around at least one of them. You no longer have your own apartment and have to stay in a designated room in a penthouse that holds all of your rooms, though everyone else owns their own homes.

Currently, you are sitting in the vip section of one of the Haitani brother’s clubs, arms crossed along with your leg as you lean back on the couch. Kazutora plops next to you with a drink in hand along with one of the strippers in the other, her bare breasts out as she holds onto him.

“You don’t look so happy, Y/n. Should we have taken you to a male strip club?” He taunts, finding amusement in her pouty face.

“I’m glad you find humor in my suffering. I just want to go to bed.” You respond.

A dip on your other side causes you to turn your head to meet Sanzu who has a speck of white dust under his nose. He wipes using his sleeve before handing you a cup of alcohol.

“Live a little, yeah?” You raise a brow as you push the drink away. You had to admit how interesting it was to see the different contrasts between the infamous mad dog. One minute he’s all serious for ‘his king’ and the next he’s sniffing angel’s dust off of a stripper's ass. Interesting indeed.

“I don’t know what you put in that.” You state before turning away from him.

“Then take this. It’s just champagne.” Rin smirks as he hands you another glass from a separate chair, man spreading as he smokes a blunt.

“And I should trust you, why?” You roll your eyes before standing up.

“Where are you off to?” Ran asks as his hand grips the butt cheek of the stripper sucking his neck.

“Bathroom.” You state before walking out. You eye the guards before heading to the restroom.

You walk to the sink and lean over, staring at yourself in the mirror as you think your life over and what brought you to this point. You swiftly turn your head when someone walks into the bathroom. You notice the woman is wearing a poorly done wig with a coat on. You contemplate whether or not you should knock her out and disguise yourself so you can make a run for it.

My morals have always been skewed anyway. I’m sorry lady.

Before she could walk into the stall, you grab her and press her pressure point, catching her before she falls. You undo her coat and set the purse on the ground, lying her head on it gently before pulling her wig off. Setting the wig on as well as the coat, you walk out of the bathroom.

You walk at a steady pace to look anything but suspicious while keeping your head down. When you successfully pass the guards you make a run for it, rushing out of the club and finding a taxi to pick you up, throwing your phone out of the window for safety from a tracking device.

Your adrenaline pumps as the hairs on your body stand. You breathe heavily as you give the taxi man the direction to your old company’s headquarters. When you got there, you ran into the building in search of your boss. When you find his office, you push the doors open and run towards the man who looks at you with shock.

A year passes and he helps you back on your feet. Staying as an assassin would have been dangerous considering the first place Bonten searched for you was the headquarters. Fortunately, he has a family who owns different businesses so you currently work at a bakery on the farthest side of a city hours away from where you used to reside.

One night, you were cleaning up the floors, closing the store. You had already locked the door so you were confused when you heard someone entering the building. Looking up, you dropped the broom when you recognized Mikey standing in front of the door with a gun pointed at you. Before you could move, a hand wrapped around your mouth as someone grabbed your arms, pulling you against a chest. You struggle in their hold.

Your eyes widen when you see your boss and his family consisting of his wife, two of their adult children, and one child being dragged in wrapped in rope and bags over their heads. You scream against the hand.

“Relax and everything will go smoother.” The voice she recognized as Kazutora states behind her.

Once the other men force everyone on their knees in front of her, they pull the bags off their heads.

She screams once more when she makes eye contact with all of them, tears running down her face for the first time at the face of death.

No they can’t do this! This can’t be happening!

Complying to Mikey’s order, Kazutora removes his hand from her mouth as he locks arms with hers. She pulls against him as she tries to release herself, to no avail. The Haitani brothers watch in amusement as they stand behind the two adult kids. Sanzu stands behind the child as Mikey moves to stand behind the boss.

“This is your fault.” He says to you, glaring before he sets his gun to the man’s head. The child cries along with the mother and the children. The man’s eyes are wide as he looks to the side in the direction of his family. They were prevented from talking, mouths bound shut as they squeal and groan.

“Mikey! M-Mikey please don’t do this! I-I’ll stay this time I swear to god! Please… just kill me or something d-don’t take it out on them!” You cry out, devastated by the display as the guilt takes over.

“Sanzu.” He states. Everyone watches as he sets the barrel of the gun on the child’s head, pulling the trigger before anyone could think. There was a pause as the shot rang out, the blood and brains splattering against his siblings, the wall, and the floor.

“STOP! NO MORE!” You let out a blood curdling scream. You pull and pull against Kazutora as he grips you tighter.

Your boss wails against his restraints angrily, falling over when he attempts to stand up, lying pitifully on his side as he kicks his feet and pulls against the rope. The wife and their children cry out, tears dropping fast as they squeeze their eyes shut.

“Haitanis.”

“NO! NO MIKE-!” The shots rang out, more blood and brains splattering as their limp bodies fall to the ground, one sibling with half of their head gone as well as the other along with an eyeball, their blood reaching their mother as she completely bends over and cries.

Mikey aims at the wife shooting her twice before her limp body falls, the husband still as he weeps for his deceased family. Kazutora allows you to drop to your knees. Hands placed on the ground as you become light headed. Finally, vomit shoots up your throat as you release the contents on the ground. Gagging and belching as your body shakes, wet with sweat.

This must be my karma for all of the wrong doings. This must be how people feel when they see their loved ones die.

“I-I’m so sorry, Akihiko. I’m so fucking sorry.” You whine out, tears and snot falling as you become a wreck. He looks at you with despair.

“Please, escape the-!” Before he could finish his sentence, Mikey had already blown his brains out.

You gaze at the messy floor with a blurry vision and wide eyes. Footsteps stop in front of you, missing the vomit. Mikey crouches down and pulls you by the chin to look up at him, gun still in the other hand.

“If you try to leave again, I’ll blow your legs off.”

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slut4thebroken · 9 months

Text

Opposites Attract

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd x reader

Summary | Jason in your hyperfeminine pink bedroom (and house lol)

Warnings | Reader isn’t infantalized she just likes feminine things lol, fluff, kissing, Jay being a big fat softie.

Words | 1.2 k

Notes | Honestly idk. I’m going through an aesthetic change rn and was struck with a vision one day lol. (Also this pic set is a direct result of there being literally no pictures or gifs of Jason 😭 I had to take matters into my own hands smh.)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You always loved when Jason came over. You loved his company of course, but mostly you just loved seeing him in your house, especially your room.

There’s something almost comical about a six foot tall, burly, vigilante, who’s covered in scars and only wears dark clothes, standing amongst all of the baby pink and white, and the delicate silk and lace in your bedroom. He sticks out terribly, even in the rest of your house, and you can’t help but be amused by it everytime.

You were sitting in bed with a book tonight, wearing a white babydoll nightie and hugging your teddy bear to your chest. When you heard a noise from outside your bedroom, you stiffened, your heart beating faster and harder in your chest. You strained your ears to listen and for a few seconds it was completely silent until you heard quiet footsteps. Before you could react your door was opening and you almost breathed a sigh of relief when you saw who it was. All of the anxiety quickly melted into happiness.

“Jay!” You said excitedly, setting your book on the nightstand.

“Hi, princess.” His hair was still a little damp and he was in casual clothes so he must’ve done some vigilante stuff tonight— a while ago you scolded him for tracking mud on your rug and getting blood on your sheets, and ever since then, you’ve demanded that he comes here completely clean.

You set down the teddy bear and got up to greet him properly, with a hug and a kiss. His hands settled on your waist over the soft material of your dress and you placed your arms on his shoulders, standing up on your toes so he didn’t have to bend down so much. When he pulled back from the kiss, you whined quietly, making him chuckle.

“You scared me.” You frowned. Even thought you gave him a key, you wished he’d knock because of how naturally quiet he always is.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He murmured, giving you another quick kiss, making you forget all about that. “Should I be jealous?” He asked and you furrowed your brows, not understanding because you were still dazed from both kisses. But he explained once he saw your expression. “That you’re cuddling with another man in your bed.” You couldn’t keep the little giggle in, especially when he started smiling.

“No.. It’s just Teddy.” You said through a quiet laugh. “Plus now that you’re here, I can cuddle with you instead.” You gave him a bright smile and he chuckled under his breath, bringing a hand up to brush your hair back, then cup your cheek.

“I’m not intruding?”

“Nope. I was just reading.”

“Good cause I thought we could bake some cookies and have a movie night.” You were nodding eagerly before he could even finish.

It was mostly him putting everything together and you following his every move with heart eyes. You wanted to help, but each time you tried, he sat you back down. He gave you the spoon for you to lick the extra batter from while he finished everything up. When the utensil was clean, he grabbed it and put it in the sink, then walked over to you and picked you up, taking you to the couch. You giggled as you clung to him— you didn’t think he’d drop you, it was just a habit that eased your nerves. When you were both on the couch with your legs over his, his hand on your thigh, and his arm around your shoulders, he leaned down and gave you a quick kiss.

“I missed you, baby.” He rasped, making your cheeks heat up.

“I saw you three days ago.” You chuckled breathlessly, even though you probably missed him more than he did.

“And that was three days too long. What have you been up to, pretty girl?” He leaned down even farther and pressed soft kisses to your neck. You let out a shaky breath and gripped his shirt.

“N-nothing… Just working on some hobbies.” You shrugged, getting a little sad. You wished you lived with him. You wished you could make dinner every night for both of you, clean up around the house, help him out of his clothes when he got home on days that he was particularly battered, give him a massage— and… anything else he might need— whenever he’s feeling stressed… You wanted it all. But you couldn’t have it, not yet at least.

“Yeah?” He lightly nipped at your neck, making you let out a startled whimper.

“Mhm.” You hummed, letting your eyes flutter shut. He kissed down your neck to your shoulder and slowly moved the fabric down to expose more skin. “Jay…” You said through a breath, trying not to get overwhelmed with the feeling of his lips on you.

“Hm?” He moved to your collarbone now, slowly kissing across it to the center of your chest.

“Need you.” You whined, starting to squirm. His hand started rubbing up and down your thigh, probably to soothe you, but it only got you more worked up. “Please?” You used the voice that always gets you what you want and he pulled back to look at you, letting out a heavy sigh as his lips curled into a small smile.

“I can’t say no to you, princess.” You all but beamed in response, excited to get what you wanted. His hand started sliding up your leg until he gripped your hip, under the nightie, making your breath hitch. Leaning forward, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips and smiled when you started squirming again. He never broke the kiss as he lifted your body and set you in his lap, straddling his legs. Both of his hands squeezed your hips, teasing the waistband of your panties, and yours moved to his hair, tugging lightly.

Faintly, you heard a noise from the kitchen, but you couldn’t focus on it. When he pulled back, you whined and tried to kiss him again, but he placed a gentle hand on your neck as a warning.

“I have to get the cookies, baby.”

“Let them burn, I don't care.” You were still squirming, trying to get friction and pleasure that he wouldn’t allow.

“You say that now, but in half an hour you’ll be pouting about how you don’t have any cookies.” He chuckled, making you frown. He didn’t give you another chance to protest before he was lifting you off his lap and placing you back on the couch. You grabbed his hand when he started walking past you, looking up at him with pleading eyes and a pout.

“You’re my good girl… you can wait just a little longer, can’t you?” You frowned and averted your gaze for a moment, then nodded. He gave you a soft smile as he cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “Thank you, baby.” He said proudly, making you blush, then continued on toward the kitchen. You turned around and leaned your chin on the back of the couch to watch him.

He looked so silly in your kitchen full of pink colors, towels with lace trim, and flower themed decor. But he looked even sillier wearing your pink oven mitts as he took the tray out of the oven. You bit back a smile as you watched him reach for a heart shaped spatula to put the cookies on a plate.

Despite the incongruity in the delicate setting, he managed to blend in seamlessly, almost making the contrast appear natural. It was giving you even more proof that he belonged here— belonged with you.

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @whydoyoucare866 @zurakoisanhornysimp @brooklynscherry-z @wartofart @deimks @n1ghtw1ngslvr @harleycao @baebeepeach @jayroytodd @zurakoisanhornysimp

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 1 year

Note

whipped price is the best price!! i read countryside again earlier on while ao3 was down and it soooo good literally tempted to read it again before i go to sleep tbh looooool but food for thought because i literally think of price and sunshine!reader before i go to sleep but what if (and idk if this is cliche but i am going to be a cliche for this cause why not)

but what ifffff price goes off to the toilet for a week and while he’s gone he leaves sunshine!reader at the bar to get drinks (yes at marissa’s place) anyway sunshine is at the barrr and some random dude comes up and starts to hit on her and she’s like nah dude i’m good thanks and he still hits on her and even marissa is like ‘seriously back off’ and then after a bit price comes out and sees and starts puffing his chest a bit cause ? who da fuck is that flirting with his women?! and the others see him storming over and try to brace themselves for the wrath of price on this muppet flirting with his girl and that’s all i have rn butttt if you wanna continue it then please do

TLTR; price gets jealous of another guy hitting on his girl and i am wondering if you’d be down to finish it off cause you’d do a wayyy better job then me 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

A/N: Thank you s much love. This definitely took I turn, not gonna lie, but I still like it, hope it's alright<3

Dark and Stormy

Summary; When another guy hits on you, Price gets protective. One thing leads to another and you find yourself in a vastly unfamiliar situation with Price that Ghost helps manoeuvre.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 4.3k

Warnings; PTSD, mental health discussion, protective!Price, implied age-gap

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

The intention of tonight was a quiet night out. Or, as calm as it gets when there's football on the telly. It also was when Johnny entertained a conversation with you rather than watching the game, as disinterested in the sport as they come compared to the others. And yes, even when a team scored, the evening was peaceful.

But then two things happened. John excused himself to the toilet while you headed to the bar, wanting a drink and something to chew on. It was a few minutes before half-time and you knew there would be a wave of people flocking towards where Marissa, at the moment, stood unoccupied, her arms crossed over her chest, eyes drifting over the crowd with an amused look. As you stepped up to the counter, that gaze settled upon you.

"Ain't it fascinating they can be this invested?" Marissa was as uninterested in football as Johnny, yet both possessed a good understanding of the game and the current season. Both your friend and the Scotsman unwillingly so, regarding the bar broadcasts relevant games on weekends and, apparently, it was a common topic not only off but on base amongst the men.

You shrugged in return. "Each to their own".

"I guess", she huffed, pushing away from the counter she'd been leaning against. With two short steps, she stood in front of you. "Wanna get something?"

"You already know what I want", you replied, to which she put a hand on her chest, an exaggerated expression morphing her features as her mouth dropped open.

"To come and keep me company, you shouldn't have", Marissa flicked her hand, making you chuckle.

"If it makes you pay for my drink, sure", you wink at her.

"Dream on, missy", Marissa chuckles as she goes to prepare the beverage, but she stops in her track suddenly, eyes shifting away from you.

"I can pay for your drink, gorgeous". You jump slightly at the voice close to you. With a swivel of your head, you instantly locate the blonde man who'd crept up behind you.

"No, thank you", you reply with a polite smile, turning towards Marissa again, trying to make it obvious you turned his efforts down.

"Didn't sound like that a second ago". Your brows furrow, sending the blonde a look over your shoulder.

"Joke between friends", you reply curtly, motioning between yourself and Marissa.

"Well, she can't keep you company all night, can she?" He smiled, leaning on the bar beside you with his elbow. "But I can". He must've thought the wink accompanying his sentence was meant to lighten your mood. If anything, it made you cringe inwardly and take a step away from him.

"Got my boyfriend for that". You looked forwards, locking eyes with Marissa. She met you with an expression you didn't need words to understand.

You saw a movement in your peripheral. Glancing at the man, you spot him turning his head left and right, looking behind him. "Don't see him around. You're not lying to me now, are you?"

You didn't look at him as he faced you, only following Marissa as she propped one of her hands on her hip, a low muttered 'Jesus' passing under he breath.

"Her man shouldn't need to be attached to her hip for you to understand what a no means", Marissa remarks. You send her a thankful look as her eyes momentarily shift to you.

"He should if having a girl this peng otherwise people will bother her all the time".

"Like you?" You finally turn towards him, arms crossed over your chest.

His brows are furrow, setting his features in a hard stare. "What did you say?"

You want to roll your eyes. But honestly, how the man's voice fell so drastically from the flirty tone made you hesitant. Yeah, you were bordering between annoyed and cautious now. "I'm saying I'm not interested in and you're making me uncomfortable".

"But I've done nothing wrong", he claimed.

"You may interpret that way, but I feel differently, so please", you motioned towards some other tables, asking the man to leave you be.

"I can stay here to have a drink if I want to", he states, turning to Marissa, making no move to listen to your desire for him to give you space. "I'll have a dark ale".

"I won't serve you", she declares.

"You can't decide that", he points at your friend, who cocks her head.

"I can. I own this place".

"Bull-fuckin-shit you do. What poor old grandpa did you rob this place from? Shouldn't even be surprised you took his life-work from him". Your mouth dropped open. Marissa's face hardened.

"Believe what you want because this is my pub and no one here will serve you". The man opened his mouth, about to continue the argument, when someone interrupted him.

"You can't get a clearer no from either of them, mate". Your eyes instantly find John upon his voice. He's standing behind the man looking at Marissa, then you, only for his eyes to meet the blonde's as he turns his head to see who's talking to him.

"I didn't talk to you, now did I, old man?"

"Maybe not, but you didn't show any signs of human decency and respect to her". John motions to Marissa. "Neither did you care when she straightforwardly said she didn't enjoy your advances", he nods towards you.

Understanding that John caught his behaviour towards the two of you, the blonde suddenly switched up.

"Oh, come on, it's alright, ain't it, love?" He turns to face you, concerning you're the closest to him. Your nose scrunch at the pet name. In your mind, it was only reserved for John. That the man dared to use it despite how he's been acting made a revolting sensation grow in your stomach. "You don't mind me, right?" He raises his arm, attempting to put it around your shoulders in a manner of goodwill. But, you move out of his reach, not desiring to be touched by this man.

And, even if you hadn't moved, the blonde would never have reached you concerning how John acted swiftly. He'd grabbed his shoulder, a gentle pull making him take a few steps back to give you space. When the blonde stumbled slightly from the reasonable action, you understood the man wasn't entirely sober, quite far from it. Noticing the same thing, John placed himself between you and the man rather than standing by your side.

A look of disbelief crosses the blonde's features before he turns sour. "You looking to scrap?"

"No". John stands straight, using his full height to his advantage. He wasn't only taller but broader than the other man, and you barely saw anything of him if you didn't glance around John's frame. All those things together would've been enough for most to back off, but not this guy.

"Then piss off", the blonde spat, clearly thinking the liquid courage he'd gotten was enough to stand up to John, oblivious to his disadvantage. And that was only physical. With John's experience, you didn't doubt who'd be victorious in a possible fight. "I'm just trying to get a drink".

John scoffed, glancing back at you. You knew his easy attitude was for your sake, the way his hand sneaked backwards in search of yours reinforcing that as he faced forwards again.

"It sounded like you tried chattin' up my girl and then insulted her friend. And when both made clear your presence wasn't welcomed, you can't respect them enough to leave. If you didn't notice that it's time to head home". John motions towards the exit with a small jut of his chin as he finally drops what you hope is the hint that will make the blonde scurry away.

The man did catch it, his eyes flickering to you and then down to see your enlaced hands behind John's back. But you also recognised something else. Hurt fucking pride.

"Don't come and order me around", he scoffs, chest puffing.

"Only givin' you advice". John was serious. You gather that much despite not seeing his face. His voice had dropped a notch, his sentence more straightforward than previously. "Better off takin' it".

"Or what? You gonna force me, don't think ya would even land a hit", the blonde scoffed in return, swaying as he made a show of moving his head as if dodging punches.

Something changed in the air then. John cocked his head, chuckling. An uneasy sensation rolls through your body upon the sound. It was nothing joyful in it. It was stern, hard edges digging into his smooth and raspy voice.

You know John is SAS, a soldier through and through. He's violent, but not violent. He can separate work from... this. What you feared, however, is that what he deals with professionally is calculated. Everything is planned, counted and weighed until agreed on something remotely executable. Initial planning left little to chance. That much you knew with your sparse knowledge of the military.

The blonde staring at John now was nothing of this. He was uncalculated, impulsive. He could do something stupid in seconds. You trusted John, not the man.

"Don't buy into his crap, please, John". You step up alongside him, gently shifting out of your enlaced hands to hold his arm, trying to divert his attention.

He doesn't look at you, eyes remaining locked with the man opposite him. "I won't".

"Ain't no fucking way to talk to me". You send the man a disgusted look.

"I talk however I want to you if you can't understand what a fucking no means", you spit back.

One of his brows cock and he steps forwards, hand raising. He doesn't come much further as John copies him. He steps out of your touch, one hand pushing forcefully enough against the guy's chest that he needs to catch himself at one of the stools.

"If you just were about to hit her-". Each syllable of the words is gritted through John's teeth as he speaks slowly. "-don't think about doin' it again". You hear the threat in his voice, the brush of 'test it, I dare you'.

Your throat constricts. And alarm of a situation spiralling out of control blaring in your body. You shoot Marissa a worried look and she knows what you can't say.

"I've had enough of this". Marissa firmly puts her hand down on the metal counter closest to her. Her action is followed by the rattling sound of glasses. John reacts in milliseconds, eyes snapping towards her. The blonde's attention follows a few seconds later. "You are not welcomed here anymore. Get out", she points at the blonde before motioning towards the door, her brown eyes darker than you've seen them in a long time.

"Or what?"

"I call the fuckin cops on you". She threatens, a sneer working itself into twisting her features.

The man is probably about to defy her and argue when a shadow suddenly positions itself at your side.

You feel dwarfed, standing so close to the new presence and John. But rather than shrinking in on yourself. You silently thank the gods it isn't an unwelcomed someone.

"You heard her". You look up at Ghost when he speaks. As always, his eyes were the sole feature peeking through his skull baklava. And right now, they bore into the blonde. "Get out". He didn't hesitate to grab the excess fabric of the jacket covering the man's shoulder.

"Take it easy, mate". The blonde almost whines as Ghost pulls him away from your group and forces him to walk ahead while he follows him to the exit. Even the man understood he'd met more than his match.

You don't hesitate to step around John to face him as soon as the man is gone. You immediately notice his lips set in an aggravated purse and how he must run a pointed tongue over his teeth. His head is turned, a hard stare boring into the man staggering away with Ghost's palm planted firmly between his shoulder blades.

"Hey". John's eyes finally met yours. They're dark, blue soladites gazing back at you. Something is brewing in them, something volatile. "Are you alright?"

John doesn't answer. Instead, his jaw only works, repeatedly tensing, making the muscle in his temple visible. It looks like he's chewing his words but can't spit them out.

You glance towards Ghost, who just pushed the man out of the pub, caring little about what he does with himself once out of the space.

Your eyes fall back to John as you sigh in relief. He still looks tense, and in an attempt to wordlessly tell him the situation is under control, you smile. But... you don't get a similar action in return. You got none, in fact. Something feels off. As if the situation is still spiralling despite the source of conflict gone. Your brows furrow, trying to snap him out of whatever resentment he can't seem to let go of by enlacing your fingers. Although, when your fingertips brush his, he flinches.

Taken aback by how his hand jerks away from yours and he moves back, you whisper his name. "John?"

Your hand hang in the air, staring at him. He's still looking at you. Even so, his gaze feels far-away. Now you're seriously worried.

"Not your fault". For being such a big man, Ghost moves quick and silently. Upon his sudden appearance by your side again, you turn to him.

"What?" His brown eyes lock with yours briefly before quickly falling on John again. He shakes his head once, not explaining something he must know.

"Marissa". You look at your friend when Ghost directs his attention on her. Even she's watching the situation with wide eyes, unfamiliarity written clearly over her features. "Have a secluded space?"

"I-uh, you can take my office". Your friend supplies the only private space within the pub's walls. Ghost nods, turning and stepping closer to John.

"Price". The masked man earns the attention of John when he settles on the juncture between his shoulder and neck. Your mouth had opened, wanting to speak up about what just happened to you but stop yourself when no reaction to the touch comes. "Get a move on. To the back".

And he does. Like a soldier, John turns and heads to the doors leading to the backroom. Stunned, you follow him with your eyes.

"You should come". Ghost directs with a quick look over his shoulder just as he follows John. You do as he says with a quick look at Marissa. She tries to give you a calm expression and a gentle smile, but it's impossible after your interaction with the blonde man and this sudden turn of events. Your jaw clenches as you hurry to keep up with the two men.

One of Marissa's coworkers emerges from the backroom just as you near it. Instinctually she holds the door open for the two men to pass through after she's stepped into the main room. You offer her a 'just getting some things for Marissa' to ease her confusion. Thankfully, you know her and she replies 'alright' just as your friend calls for her. Probably to not linger about to keep it as free of people as possible concerning Ghost's request.

You press your lips together when the doors close, cutting off much of the pub's natural racket, walking briskly behind John and Ghost. Something gnaws in your chest as you look at the latter. Neither he seems relaxed.

Your arms wind around your stomach, silently stepping into Marissa's office, staying almost pressed against the door once your close it by leaning into it.

"Price", Ghost's voice makes John turn. "Your head's elsewhere". He continues. He doesn't sound cold, but he speaks evenly.

For being a masked man, you would describe Ghost as someone who usually has an expressive voice. But his current tone sounds matter-of-factual. Fuck. You gnaw your lip, fingers digging into your sides, eyes jumping between them.

"You ain't there". Ghost's words make your eyes flitter from John to him and stay there for a few moments. You only see parts of his face concerning how he's still facing John more than you. "You're back home, at the pub. There's nothin' to overthink, nothin' to deal with, nothin' more happenin'. You hear me?"

John nods. But the large man only shakes his head in return. "Answer me, Captain".

"Hear ya, L.T.". John's voice is low and gritty as he grunts the reply.

Ghost nods curtly, a swift tip of his chin. "It's all in your head. Get it back on your shoulders", he continues, letting his sentence hang in the air rather than filling the silence with anything else.

Though you don't understand the interaction fully, you're starting to grasp what's going on in the stillness. You watch John closely as he crosses his arms over his chest and inhales slowly, holding his breath before exhaling. He repeats the action over and over.

"That cunt ain't here to bother you or your sweetheart, neither is anyone else, so at ease". Ghost angles his body, your eyes landing upon his profile. He motions to you with his hand, bringing a set of eyes to you. Yet, they're not brown, but blue.

Upon John's attention, you shift, shuffling on your feet, but don't avert your eyes. The look from before is still there, though it doesn't feel as intense. And then, slowly, it melts. It's nothing grand, not a sudden shift, no jerk of realisation. But the forced labour breathing John focused on eases into something natural, making his shoulders drop and the look in his eyes change. He feels present. As if he's actually looking at you now. A gentleness fills his eyes. They warm up.

Then, John's eyes flutter close, his head notching forwards. One of his hands settles by his temple, massaging the sensitive point before travelling to the bridge of his nose, pinching the highest point as a deep furrow sets his brows close to his fingers.

"You good?" Ghost asks, his voice milder than before.

"I'm good", John responds on a exhale. He takes a step backwards to partly sit on the desk behind him. He shifts his fingers so his thumb massages the skin between his eyebrows.

Meanwhile, Ghost turns, walking towards you. You only look at him once he stops beside you.

"Should I do something?" You whisper to the tall man. You felt helpless during this ordeal and still not exactly sure what happened even though you now had a guess. Ghost only cocks his head, hand stilling on the door-handle as he looks at you.

"Just be there for him", is all he says, swinging the door open.

He nods goodbye as he exits, not overstaying the moment after he apparently isn't needed anymore.

Your eyes fall on John when the door closes again. He looks tired, standing in a similar position as before. Only his hand had shifted to cover his eyes, the span of his brows covered by his index finger and thumb.

"John?" You try to soften your voice to hide your concern.

His hand drops, blue eyes finding yours. His mouth is in a thin line, corners slightly downturned. Your heart cracks a bit at his discouraged look.

Your feet move on their own, bringing you to him. As soon as you're within range, he drops his arms, opening them wide for you to step into. It's seamless how you reach around John's shoulders, one hand coming to the back of his head, moving him towards your neck while his arms wind tight around your waist, pulling you close as he haunches forward to burrow his face against your throat.

The silence is only filled with your breaths. Yours blowing into the air at the side of John's head, his exhales puffing against your skin. Your eyes are shut harshly as your fingers repeatedly card through his hair and continue down his neck until your fingertips glide over his last cervical vertebrate.

It's gradual, but you feel John the tension leaving his body. He relaxes against you, not feeling as stiff with his hold. His arms loosen, sliding lower towards your hips where his hand squeeze the plusher flesh. Your thumb circles his shoulder and you turn your head to the side, kissing the side of his head. In return, he kisses the skin over your collarbone.

There's a tug-of-war inside you. Should I? Shouldn't I? In the end, you decide to try.

"If you're comfortable in telling me, what happened?" The words brush against John's head, your breath disturbing some strands of his hair.

He sighs deeply and you hold your breath for a few seconds. "Got triggered". So...PTSD, then? Or was it something you never fucking heard of? Your mind raced.

As if able to read your thoughts, John finally leans away. You don't let your hand fall from the back of his head, continuing to card through the strands of hair at his nape as he looks at you, head bowed to be levelled with your face.

"Doesn't happen much at all". John begins, clenching his jaw before continuing. "But triggers can... it feels like a misplaced adrenalin rush with overwhelming emotions and racing thoughts".

You nod, biting your lip. Brows furrowing, you search for the right words, carefully choosing what to say. "Was it something that guy said that did it?"

"Don't know, can't recall what hit the wrong cord", John said with a shake of his head.

"You sound jealous". You try a different approach in a lighter tone, rapping your fingers against his neck with a soft smile.

"Maybe protective", John shrugs, chuckling awkwardly. Even so, the tightness in the corner of his mouth eases. His gaze flickers away, moving back and forth, staring into nothing for a few seconds. When his gaze trails back, his eyes are a bit clearer, apparently having uncovered something to answer your question better. "Think it was when he raised his hand".

The reminder that the man had thought about doing something physically to you resurfaced on your frontal lobe. As the moment replayed, you could understand why it was triggering, perhaps not to the extent and with the interconnections John obviously had towards the action.

"Got angry, worried, the feeling resembling something from...", John trails off, but you don't need him to explicitly say it. You're not there. Ghost's sentence echoes in your mind. "Should probably work on that, m'sorry".

This man. You shut your eyes, turning your head away. You try to will the wetness you felt away, but when you open your eyes, you still need to tilt your head back and forth a few times to not let any tears fall before you look back at John, eyes noticeably glassy even so.

"Don't apologise". You finally say. "It isn't your fault that guy acted like a cunt. Compared to him, you never wanted to escalate the situation even though you were the one who had the right".

"But-" You cock your head after he cuts himself short, giving him space to continue the conversation at his own pace. John releases a slow breath and speaks again. "It shouldn't have triggered me". You purse your lips at the way he says it. He sounds so frustrated with himself.

"Don't know too much about it", you admit, neither of you labelling what the obvious it was. "But you soldiers can't pick and choose what does or doesn't".

"Wouldn't that be a dream", he sighs.

"Maybe you should work on it. If you want to. Not the protective part, I mean... I appreciate that, I like that I can trust you having my back". You lick your lips, biting the lower one for a second as your brows furrow. "But, maybe the other part?"

It brought a sigh from John. "Guess... I haven't left the last deployment behind entirely despite being cleared on the med-evaluations". It wasn't a yes, but it was an acknowledgement.

"I-I know we haven't talked much about what you do in detail. But, if you want to, you know? Talk. I'll listen". John looks at you, blue eyes widening.

"I-", he began. "I need to think about it". You nod, not pressing him, understanding that he needs time.

Rather than continuing the conversation, you lean forwards, pressing your lips against his forehead. You feel his eyes flutter close, his lashes brushing your lower face as he leans into the touch, so you only part to mumble an 'okay' before planting another kiss between his brows.

You graze your lips over his face in soft presses until you reach his mouth. Hovering there, your hand slip to his cheek. Your fingers brush along the line of his beard, feeling the softness of his skin and the brown hairs. You hover there, waiting until John initiates the kiss.

It's sweet, soft. A gentle tilt of heads in opposite directions as you merely connect the plush pillows of your lips together. It holds so many emotions for something that is so surface-level.

"Want to go home? Escape the crowd?" You whisper against his lips when you part.

John hums, leaning away so his gaze meets yours the second you open your eyes. "If you don't mind".

"Would never mind if that's what you need". You smile at John, running your thumb along his cheek. He sighs, an appreciative smile spreading.

"Can I drive?"

You remember what he said the night you first met, how helpful those drives could be for him. "If you want to, yes".

"Thank you". John pecks your lip.

You smile at him. "No need".

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