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traveler-at-heart · 5 months ago

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Hot To Go

Summary: You're horny and Natasha's teasing you. That's pretty much it!

Also, I've been telling you all to listen to Chappell Roan since last year so if you haven't, DO IT NOW.

Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Hopeless.

That’s how you feel as you walk back to the Compound, hot and bothered. The plan is to go straight to your room, but Wanda’s in the living room reading her book.

“Did you have fu…?” she says as soon as you walk in.

“Nope” you don’t let her finish, plopping next to her on the couch.

“What…”

“Garden gnomes”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific”

“We were having dinner, she invited me over for coffee. And when I went inside her apartment, I was met with at least fifty figures of garden gnomes”

“Like… decoration?”

“Like pets, according to her” you rub your eyes, trying to erase the image from your mind. “I was willing to maybe ignore it… until I went to her room and there were a dozen more”

“So? Just turn off the light” Wanda says, with a neutral expression. As if she’s not hearing the weirdest fucking thing on the planet right now.

“No, she said we should leave it on because they’re scared of the dark”

That finally breaks her and she lets out a loud laugh.

“Not funny” you throw a cushion towards her and she catches it.

It’s been four months since you’ve gotten laid. Not like you can’t handle a dry spell, but for some reason -perhaps the stress of work and missions- you’ve been particularly… needy. But everytime you go on a date, it ends in disaster.

“I should join a convent” you groan, your head resting on the back of the couch as you look at the ceiling.

“Nice, surrounded by other women. Maybe then you’ll get lucky”

“Not funny” you repeat, defeated.

“What about…?”

“Don’t” you stop her before she can even begin. You don’t need to look at Wanda to know what she’s about to say.

“I’m just saying…”

“Not another…”

“Natasha”

“…word. Damn it, Wanda. That has never been an option”

“You’re being stupid” she says and you roll your eyes, getting up from the couch.

“Gotta go and take matters into my own hands”

“Gross”

Wanda makes a face and you laugh, the both of you too distracted to notice someone else on the doorway, listening intently to the conversation.

—

Movie night is the perfect distraction, or so you think.

Since you’re all fidgety and restless, you opt for the couch in the back of the room, holding a bucket of popcorn against your chest.

The boys have settled on Atomic Blonde, with Bucky commenting the inaccuracies of the film portraying the Cold War.

His banter with Sam is enough to distract you for a little while, but then you turn back to the screen and sink in your seat.

There are two women making out, a hand going down the other one’s panties…

“Enjoying the movie?” a sultry voice whispers against your ear.

“N-Nat” you hold the bucket closer against your chest, trying to even your breathing. Where did she come from? You were sure she was skipping movie night today.

“That’s my name” she says, somehow even closer to you. Your eyes are fixed on the screen, but every other sense is registering the redhead’s presence. Her smell, the way her lips are almost touching your ear…

There’s moaning, and panting and the women on screen are kissing.

You’re about to combust, there’s no doubt in your mind.

“Use your words, pretty girl” Natasha whispers and you whimper.

“It’s a good… great movie” you manage to say, gulping.

Natasha’s hand moves forward and you’re hipnotized by those slender fingers, grabbing some popcorn out of the bucket and placing it slowly in her mouth.

“Catch you later?”

All you can do is nod dumbly, feeling the heat rising to your ears.

As soon as she walks out the living room, you stand up, sprinting to your bedroom.

“Pizza just got here” Tony calls after you.

“I’m not hungry” you lie, shutting the door behind you.

Not for food, at least.

—

It’s been two days since movie night and Natasha’s the same. So you figure your horny mind blew the interaction out of proportion.

Which is fine, because right now you can’t be distracted.

“On your knees” Natasha commands and you almost faint.

“I… what?”

As part of your quarterly evaluation, you have to take physical and psychological tests to stay on the team.

The sparring part was usually done by Steve, so you were shocked to find Natasha as soon as you walked in.

“Say you’re wounded and can’t stand up. How are you going to fight back?” Natasha walks in circles around you, and you kneel as she requested. “Ready?”

You don’t have time to answer and in a matter of seconds she’s disarmed you, her hand squeezing your troath and her body on top of yours.

It takes everything in your power not to moan.

Natasha releases you and goes at it again, and again, and again. The fighting stances change, but ultimately, you always end up against the mat, her body close to yours, feeling her hot breath against your skin.

“Tired?” she says, straddling your hips. You don’t trust in your voice, so all you do is nod. “Fine, we’re done”

Natasha lifts herself from you, but you miss the contact immediately.

“Want some help getting up?” she offers when you stay on the ground.

“I just need a minute”

Your muscles are sore, your heart is beating out of your chest and the redness that invades your cheeks and ears won’t disappear.

You’re fucked. And not in the way you’d like to be.

—

Nothing un-sexier than chores.

As you walk down the hallway, you knock on the doors of some of your teammates, asking if they have dirty clothes to add to your load.

The last door is Natasha’s and you pray she’s not in her room.

“Hi, detka” she smiles as soon as she sees you.

“Dirty…” you stutter like a moron.

“What’s that?”

“Dirty clothes. I’m doing laundry but it’s not a lot. I could put some of your clothes if you need it”

“Thank you. Give me a second” Natasha takes your basket inside and comes back a second later. “Oh, I almost forgot this one” she says when you turn to leave.

“Sure, go ahead…”

The last thing you’re expecting is to see her undressing in the doorway, throwing her SHIELD t-shirt and yoga pants your way.

Natasha is standing in black underwear, staring back at you with a smirk.

“I’ll… I better go” you turn around, colliding against the door. You curse under your breath, aware that Natasha hasn’t closed the door, most likely to see if you turn around one last time.

Using other chores to distract you does the trick for a little while, but then you go back and pull the clothes out of the dryer.

Without thinking, you begin to fold them. That is, until your hands lift a lace thong that is most definitely not yours.

“Oh, great heavens” you drop it, feeling like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time. People wear lingerie, it’s a normal, beautiful, hot thing to do…

But if you find more like that one, you’re gonna combust. instead, you separate your clothes from hers without paying much attention to what’s in your hands. Once it’s done, you go back and knock on her door.

Thankfully, this time she’s wearing a hoodie and leggings.

“Here” you present the basket with clothes, avoiding her eyes. Natasha thanks you and you sigh with relief, walking back to your room.

“Oh, did you happen to see a red lacy bra?”

Damn it.

“Uh… I didn’t like check each thing you put in there, Nat”

“Red, unclasps on the front, has lace that only covers the nipples”

You actually have to lean against the wall, sure that your knees will buckle any minute now.

“Nope. I would remember”

“Alright then” and as if she hadn’t just melted your brain, she smiles and speaks in the sweetest voice you’ve ever heard. “Thank you”

Thank you. That image is forever imprinted in my brain.

—

How did you end up here?

Milk was all you wanted. When you mentioned you were going to the store, Natasha was quick to offer a ride.

If you had know it was on her motorcycle, you’d have politely declined.

Because, now you have your hands around her midsection, and everytime Natasha lowers her hands at a stop sign, she brushes your thighs delicately.

On the way back, there’s a particularly nasty bump on the road which makes you jump on your seat. As a result, your face sinks in Natasha’s kneck. Not for the first time, you notice the lavender smell and softness of her beautiful red hair. Comforted by her closeness, you practically melt against her. To your horror, a soft moan escapes your lips.

How you wish she hadn’t heard it, but by the way her movements falter, it’s clear she did.

Mortified, you jump the minute she parks, thanking her and disappearing in the elevator.

“Shitshitshit” you mutter, running across the living room, still carrying the bottle of milk. Wanda leans forward, intrigued by the force with which you lock your door. It all makes sense when Natasha comes in, looking for you.

“Again?” the Sokovian says, throwing a pillow towards Natasha.

“What?”

“You’ve been teasing her for weeks. It’s not funny” Wanda glares, making Natasha uncomfortable. If anyone can throw her across the room, it’s Wanda.

“Well, maybe now I will be considered an option” Natasha tries to defend herself, though it comes off as a lame excuse.

Wanda takes a second, trying to understand the meaning behind those words.

Your conversation about that date and the gnomes and Natasha… she was listening.

“That’s what this is about?!” Wanda grabs another cushion and throws it at the redhead, making sure that it hits extra hard with a whisp of red magic. “She didn’t mean you’re not an option. You are her first choice. Because. She. Has. A. Crush. On. You”

Each word is accentuated with a new wave of magic that is harmless, but enough to make Natasha jump.

“Oh” is all she says when Wanda stops.

“Fix it. Every time you tease her those thoughts get very loud, and it’s hard to ignore them”

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what she’s thinking” Natasha tries to hide her smirk.

“Who say her thoughts were the loud ones, Romanoff?”

—

As luck would have it, you couldn’t hide from Natasha much longer.

Duty called and you were placed on a mission together. You had to infiltrate the VIP room of a bar/strip club the Russian mafia owned.

The setup was fairly simple. Natasha would go inside the VIP room while you stayed outside to alert her of anything unusual. So, at least you wouldn’t have to be around each other for long. It was hard to keep sinful thought at bay when she was dressed to the nines, hoping to dash the bouncer and get access to the reserved area.

You look around the street where the main entrance is, hoping Ivanov wouldn’t get here before Natasha was granted access.

“I couldn’t get past the bouncer” her voice interrupted your thoughts.

“What do we do now?”

“Maybe there’s a way to break into the room…”

“Apparently the only women allowed in the VIP area are dancers. Pigs” she mutters bitterly.

“I might have an idea” you say, following a girl in high heels that enters through a staff door. You sneak up right behind her and walk down a hallway. At the end of it, you find a room full of makeup, mirrors and girls in skimpy outfits.

Oh, God.

“Y/N?” Natasha presses through the comms.

“Looks like I’m a dancer now”

“Absolutely not. Where are you? I’m calling this mission off now”

“Come on, Nat. I’ll just pick an outfit, and hope they’ll let me in”

As you go around some clothes that you hope are clean, Natasha remains quiet. The least revealing outfit is a black leather mini skirt and a heart shaped top.

You are busy inspecting your reflection on the mirror when she breaks the silence.

“I don’t like this”

You don’t like it either, truth be told.

“I’m walking towards the bar. What’s your location?” there is no answer and for a moment you worry Natasha was caught. “Nat?” you insist, speaking louder as the music makes it hard to listen.

“I see you” is all she says. You look around, until your eyes meet hers. Natasha’s intense glare makes you falter, feeling as if you are naked in the middle of a room full of strangers.

“You look…”

“He’s here” you interrupt, looking behind her. “Ivanov”

The mobster leans on the railway that’s above Natasha and you, inspecting with a satisfied smirk the crowd dancing and drinking.

“Nat, you’re gonna have to trust me” you plead, walking towards her as your eyes meet Ivanov’s.

You approach the woman, swaying your hips to the beat of the music. A group of men move aside, enjoying the show that is most definitely not for them.

Sitting on Natasha’s lap, you pull her closer by the collar of her shirt, hands going down her stomach all the way to the belt loop of her pants.

Ignoring the heat that creeps up your cheeks, you take a shot of tequila from the waiter walking by you, placing the slice of lime on Natasha’s mouth. You down the shot in one swift motion and then connect your lips with hers, taking the slice from her mouth.

“Come to the VIP area” a man appears behind you, pulling you away from Natasha. The woman is quick to stop him, a hand on his arm.

“Don’t” you warn her, because causing a scene won’t do you any good. You walk behind the man, looking around as you’re finally granted access to the VIP area.

To your surprise, there’s a second, more private room where Ivanov and all of his criminals gather around. He laughs when he sees you walk inside, patting the space next to him.

“Nice show out there” he says with a thick Russian accent. “How come I’ve never seen you before?”

“Maybe you weren’t looking hard enough for me” you say, hoping his attention will go back to the conversation happening with the rest of the men.

Sure enough, they begin to argue and you take the opportunity to lean forward and plant the bug on the table.

“For you” a bartender appears out of nowhere, making you flinch. “You’re gonna need it for later”

“That’s definitely spiked” Natasha comments. Her voice brings you back to reality.

“Cheers” is all you say.

You wait around for a while longer, until one of the bodyguards asks you to follow him to another room. To your horror, he locks you inside.

“Natasha, extraction” you plead, looking around the room for a way out. No answer. “Nat, please come in”

You hear a commotion outside, and look around for a weapon or anything that will help you defend yourself.

“I told you I didn’t like this” Natasha says when she opens the door and you sigh with relief. “To be clear, I’m talking about the situation. Not the outfit”

“Nat…” you breathe, happy that she came back for you. The woman approaches you, inspecting your face.

“Are you ok? Did you take the drink?”

“Obviously not”

“Fine. Let’s go” she grabs your hand and as you walk past the VIP room, you find all of Ivanov’s men knocked unconscious.

“Aww, all of this for me?” you joke, your hand going to your chest.

Natasha doesn’t answer, keeping a tight grip on your hand as you escape the strip club. You think she might be upset because you put the both of you at risk.

Until you’re out on the street and she pushes you against the wall, her body trapping you in place.

“I really wanted to do this nicely” her eyes drift to your cleavage and the look of pure lust drives you forward, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. “Go out with me” she says when you break apart.

“Dressed like this or…?” you joke, biting your lip.

“No, I’d like to be the only one enjoying this view”

“Ok” you laugh. She’s about to lean forward again when you hear a couple of men running around, probably looking for you. “We should go” Natasha complains and you kiss her cheek. “Don’t worry, I’m definitely gonna need help to take this clothes off”

“Let’s go” she says, looking around the street before pulling you to the car that you parked hours ago.

“Your room or mine?”

“Which one is farthest away from Wanda?” Natasha says, buckling her seatbelt and turning on the car.

“What?”

“Trust me, it’s for everyone’s own good. Your thoughts aren’t the only thing that will get very loud”

You laugh as she speeds back to the Compound.

At last, you were about to get lucky, with the girl of your dreams no less.

#natasha romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x You #Natasha Romanoff x y/n

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woso-dreamzzz · 9 months ago

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Hi Barbie II

Jana Fernández x Vilamala!Reader

Summary: Bruna interrupts

"Oh my god! Hands where I can see them! God!"

Jana jumps out of her skin at her best friend's voice, nearly landing on the floor as you tilt your head back to look at your sister.

"We're cuddling? Can't we cuddle anymore?"

"Not with Jana!" Bruna laughs as Jana's face burns red. "She might just combust! Did you know how many years she's been dreaming about doing this with you? Who knows what will happen?"

"Leave us alone, Bruna," You grouse," What are you even doing here? This is my place."

"Which is another thing," Bruna says as she goes straight into the kitchen to grab some food," You're living in London until the end of the season. Why have you still got this place?"

"The loan isn't long term," You reply," I needed a place to come back to. What about you? You don't even have a key."

Bruna shrugs. "I had one made when I house sat. You're got good sunlight here."

You roll your eyes and turn to look back at Jana. "Sorry, I didn't know she would be stopping by."

"It's okay." Jana's voice is barely above a whisper and her face is still red. The embarrassment seeps into her bones and settles there as she readjusts her position.

This whole afternoon was like something out of the most perfect of daydreams. She'd had the day off from rehab and you weren't needed at Arsenal until next week so you picked her up from her apartment to have lunch.

You went from lunch to the market to a cute coffee shop and then back to your place to mindlessly watch tv as you talked.

Jana has been on cloud nine all day. She can scarcely accept that this was truly her life, that her long-term crush was dating her and you were having nice domestic moments like this.

Trust Bruna to bring her straight back down to earth.

"Don't you have training?" Jana asks and Bruna flashes her a smile.

"Why? Don't you want to see me? Aren't we best friends, Jana?"

Jana can feel her cheeks turn even more red than before (something that she wasn't sure was even possible) as Bruna hops over the back of the sofa and tries to squish her way between you both.

"Hey!" Jana complains as Bruna tries to push her out of the way, shoving her right back in annoyance.

She keeps fighting before breaking off when you throw your head back to laugh. She's star-struck for a moment.

Sun is filtering in through the windows and hitting you just right for it to look like you're glowing and Jana can do nothing but stare even as Bruna keeps swatting at her.

"You're so gross!" She was complaining but Jana isn't listening as she focusses on you.

You're still laughing, head thrown back and you tilt it to make eye contact.

It causes Jana to smile too and you reach over Bruna to grab Jana's hip, pulling her up and over your sister to settle on your lap.

The movement is unexpected but the feeling is nice and Jana feels herself go completely limp as you manoeuvre her the position you want.

Bruna pretends to gag but, thankfully, doesn't comment as she grabs the remote to channel surf.

You don't even glance at her as your whole attention goes to Jana, whose brain has finally caught up with her body when she realises the position that she's in.

Again, Jana thought it was impossible to grow even redder than before but it's like her body doesn't believe in its own limits and her blush grows ever deeper.

You're still smiling at her, eyes never straying, and your hands are still on her hips.

Jana smiles back before growing embarrassed and looking away.

"You're so cute," You whisper, chasing her lips with your own and giving her a soft peck.

You both chance a look at Bruna, who hasn't even noticed, so you steal another and then another.

"Should we get out of here?" You ask," There's this nice coffee place that Ingrid showed me last year."

Jana bites her lap. "And Bruna stays here?"

"Definitely."

"Let's go."

Jana is loath to leave the safety of your hands on her hips but she laces your fingers with hers and suddenly feels settled again.

"Bruna," You call out when you're by the door," Me and Jana are heading out."

"Why? Can't make out with me here?"

You roll your eyes. "No but we might do that when we come back. I'll text you so you can leave in time."

"Ha! As if!"

You shrug and pull Jana through the door, swinging your joined hands. "It's on your head if you see something you don't want to."

#woso x reader #jana fernandez x reader #jana fernandez #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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piratefishmama · 1 year ago

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Fake it ‘Till you make it | Part 15

If asked to describe how warm the Harrington house made him feel, Eddie would probably describe it as dipping his backside in an ice bath, balls, and all.

The Harrington Chalet… was like being wrapped up in a warm blanket on the comfiest of sofas, in front of a cosy fire, with a mug of just right hot cocoa placed in your hands, snuggled up against a broad chest, the kind of warmth that only comes from true comfort, a warmth that only comes from belonging.

It was all natural colours, warm browns lit by warm white lamplight. Where the Harrington house had white walls and dark tiled floors without a speck of dust to be seen, the chalet had natural wooden walls, and beautiful dark oak wood flooring, thick wooden beams running across the ceiling.

The only modern thing about it being the floor to ceiling windows that took up the far wall of the living room, which looked out towards the lake not far away. Every material used to build it aside from the glass windows, looked like it was sourced directly from its surroundings, like whatever they’d felled to make room for the chalet, was put into building it.

Eddie wanted to stay there.

He’d only set one foot into the main living room after lugging those bags from the car, bags now at his feet, guitar propped up against the wall, he’d only stopped a moment to take it all in, and decided there and then that this… this was where he wanted to be. It couldn’t be further from the place he’d grown up, yet he longed for it all the same.

And then he felt hands, flattened, sliding around his waist from his hip upwards beneath his shirt to settle atop his stomach, another around the other side, higher from his chest upwards across collar bone and lingering there, a hot breath on the other side of his neck, the warm, broad expanse of Steve Harrington’s chest against his back and his lips just lightly brushed against the side of his neck. If Steve wasn’t currently holding him up he might actually have crumpled.

How did people exist around Steve Harrington and not just spontaneously combust?

He felt aflame, Steve wrapped around him, holding him steady, thrown directly into the deep end even though he’d had hours upon hours to prepare himself for it, how did someone prepare to suddenly be at the very centre of Steve Harrington’s attention at the top of his game? Especially when that someone had never really experienced any game directed at them.

“Keep it in your pants Steven we haven’t even unpacked.” And there went all that tension, built with actions alone, gone with an exasperated comment from Steve’s mother as she shoved one of the heavier of her bags forwards with her foot.

“I cannot be held responsible for my actions when my boyfriend looks this beautiful.” Oh. He was expecting something juvenile, not something that was going to make his heart do a funny little flip flop. He’d never been called beautiful before.

He’d heard a few similar things in bars, but those things were always backed by lewd intent, genuinely having heard ‘you got a pretty mouth, boy’ on one such excursion. Never beautiful. Never something that gave him butterflies. Made him feel special.

“Yes, he’s very pretty, now let him go and go help your father with his bags. Eddie would you be a dear and help me with mine? This one is a little heavy.” He didn’t want Steve to let go, honestly he felt like his legs might actually give out if Steve let go so in the interest of his own balance, he just latched himself onto Steve’s arms to prevent him from letting go.

“Uhhhh… can we just, leave them in here for a bit while we uh… pick rooms? Because uhm… I don’t have a good excuse.” Steve snorted a laugh so close to his ear it actually made him laugh a little himself, he even got a nice little squeeze from Steve’s arms which felt lovely. “But I’d just really like if Steve didn’t move.”

Lynda just looked at them both with that knowing smile of hers, a single perfectly arched eyebrow raised in sly amusement. “Very well, the heavy ones stay here. Steven remember we will want to use the hot tub so do not pick that room.” And she was off after her husband, leaving the two heavier of her bags in the entryway to be moved later.

Eddie turned his head to look at Steve with a small curious frown in silent question “There’s a room on the first floor, it’s technically the guest master bedroom, it has a patio door that leads to the hot tub on the wrap around. Like directly to it, if we pick that room there’s a strong chance of us witnessing terrible horrible things. Nobody ever picks that room.” It was great if you were alone in the house, or if it was just you and a special someone, then you could pick it, but… other company would ultimately either see your business, or you’d see theirs.

Not a fun time.

“Sounds like you’ve had a terrible experience.”

“I repeat, terrible, horrible things. C’mon Bambi, let’s get settled in.”

“Where’d that come from?” He asked, just before Steve could let go, sure Steve’s arms relaxed a little in their grip, allowing Eddie to move a little, test his balance to find it was actually fine, that his legs hadn’t mysteriously transmuted into jello, he didn’t pull away through, instead he turned in Steve’s arms, just to look at him “The Bambi thing, where’d that come from?” It was the third time Steve had called him that, the first on the plane, second in the car… and now—

“Your eyes, man… those big beautiful brown eyes of yours, you’ve got eyes like Bambi. Has no-one ever… called you that before?” Steve stepped backwards, he removed his arms, instead placing his hands on Eddie’s arms, just holding him, looking at him, seeing him.

“Uh…no no, most I get is freak, fag, or… that I have a nice mouth?” Eddie didn’t expect the pained expression on his faux boyfriends face, no matter how brief it was. “It’s okay, like… you expect the insults I guess… we live in a small-minded shithole, and I never deny the rumours so it’s not like it’s not expected. And the places where it’s okay for us to be, well… they kind of expect a certain level of experience or they expect you to want them too when you go there an well…” Eddie didn’t have that experience.

An he didn’t feel very comfortable leaving it up to a total stranger to guide him through gaining experience. Especially with how dangerous that was right now.

Besides the danger though, what if it sucked? He didn’t want it to suck, why did that have to be the be all and end all of first queer sexual experiences? Why couldn’t it be good? Why couldn’t he have his toes sufficiently curled?

“I wish I knew what to say to make it okay...” Robin would know what to say. Steve had barely dipped his toes into what he enjoyed, into who he was beneath the performative nonsense of his past.

Steve was just… Steve, and Steve rarely really knew what to say.

“Don’t worry about it big boy, you calling me beautiful just made my year, I will treasure it always, it will feed my ego for years to come so you don’t have to say anything else. Now let’s go pick a room” Just to make sure Steve knew it was okay, Eddie leaned forward and planted a kiss atop those two cute moles on Steve’s cheek, grabbed his guitar case, then offered his other hand. “Wanna show me around?”

“Yeah…” Steve breathed, an almost dopey smile on his face as he took Eddie’s hand “yeah okay, let’s do that, rooms are this way, but first, uhm... Bambi's okay right?”

"Yeah, Stevie... Bambi's okay."

Part 17

#PirateWrites #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Fake Dating AU

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thepenultimateword · 9 months ago

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Sugar and Spice

Henchman dusted the flour off his hands and gave the spiced apple mixture a quick stir. Looked like the juices were releasing nicely with the sugar. This should be a perfectly gooey filling once he finished the crust.

He set out the first pie pan and had just picked up the dough when the double kitchen doors shrieked open. "Henchman, you're needed in the weapons room for cleaning."

Henchman barely gave Other Villain a glance. "Um...no?"

"Excuse me?"

He pressed the pie dough into the pan and took up a knife to trim the excess. "I'm supposed to finish 12 pies before dinner. If I leave the kitchen, I won't meet my deadline. Besides, weapons isn't my department."

"You're department is doing what you're told."

"And if Supervillain doesn't get his pies for the dinner tonight are you going to take responsibility?"

Other Villain's whole body quivered, and the next sentences came out through gritted teeth as if holding herself back from exploding. With her combustion abilities, she just might be. "The weapon's combat team failed another mission. They've been entirely dispatched. If you don't want to follow in their footsteps, I suggest you listen to your superior before I report you for insubordination."

Henchman sighed heavily but set aside the trimmed crust and ran his hands under the sink faucet, scalding away all the crusted flour. He hated it when people pulled the "villain" card. As if the title meant anything more than their abilities being active rather than passive. But until big bosses like Supervillain stopped treating combat abilities as the bar for worth, Henchman couldn't do much about the system's power dynamics. "Can I expect help? I can't spare more than an hour."

Other Villain gave a self-satisfied smile, quickly followed by an annoyed glance at Henchman. "I'll attempt to siphon help from a few other departments, but it may take some time."

Henchman sighed again. "Of course." He placed the bowl of apples in the fridge, pulling his apron over his head and hanging it on the wall hook on his way out the door.

Luckily, all the dough and the fillings were finished, and the oven could fit several pans at a time. He didn't have much faith in Other Villain finding him help--she'd always looked down on the culinary department's contribution even while happily scarfing down booster gelatin before each training session--but perhaps if he gave the weapons room the bare minimum he could make it back before dinner.

That hope disappeared as soon as he entered the weapons room. It was like no one had cleaned it once since the organization was established. Pockmarked targets and half-crushed practice dummies strewed the room. Weapons stuck into walls or laid discarded on the floor. Some were even dispersed throughout the tiered seating area. Henchman scooped up a scimitar by its hilt. Tsking as he twirled it in his hand. They didn't even properly clean--Was that blood?

Henchman dropped the weapon with a loud clatter. His insides chilled as he took in the rust-colored flecks spattering the flat of the blade. Not so much like a weapon that had met flesh as one that had tasted the aftermath of its owner's demise before it could even defend them. Similarly colored smears decorated the walls and flooring.

Other Villain's comment about the latest weapons team's fate rang through Henchman's mind, and suddenly the mess didn't seem so much their fault. Henchman didn't want to think about what actually went down here, and even if he did he shouldn't dare.

Ok, Henchman. Get in, get out, bake your pies.

First thing first, collect all the weapons dispersed throughout the room. Henchman picked up a pair of spears, wrenching one out of a thick practice mat with a spray of foam. He sighed. More mess.

He threw down the spears against the wall and moved for a half-crumpled metal shield. Did Supervillain come personally? No, don't think. That wasn't his job. As much as he hated Other Villain's attitude, she wasn't entirely wrong. His job was to do what he was told, with as little inquiry as possible.

He found an empty quiver at the top of the bleachers, the arrows scattered in tiny pieces among the seats. He'd have to get a broom for those later. But where was the bow? He ducked down to peer under benches but other than a snapped bow string and some close-up splatter that was definitely blood, he found nothing. Maybe it got thrown to the bottom when Supervillain...did what Supervillain did to "parasites."

Henchman skipped the steps two at a time, picking up a dagger teetering haphazardly over the edge of a bench along the way. He jumped down to the training mat with a loud POFF! Loud enough that he didn't notice the sound of the door opening until the flame-haired figure was almost right in front of him. Her hair was pulled into its usual thick braid crown, wound and wound like an endless coil of rope. Meanwhile, she stood on edge, a dog ready to attack, double-colored eyes flicking rabidly around the room. Finding Henchman the room's sole occupant, they eventually settled hungrily on him.

Henchman's heart skipped a beat, clutching the dagger in both hands, tip down, in front of them. "Sir? Er, Ma'am? Villain?"

The green eye looked ready to skin him, while the brown one spun webs of thought.

"Did...Other Villain send you?" Henchman could cringe at the ridiculous question, Villain outranked Other Villain by about a quadrillion stations, but he couldn't think of any other reason why she would be here.

"You're a henchman, right?" she said.

"Um...yes?"

Her gaze flicked to the dagger in his hands, and she turned on heel back toward the door. "Come with me."

Henchman blinked. What was up with villains being bossy today? Well, he took pissing off Villain much more seriously than Other Villain. Maybe she had further instructions for dealing with this mess. Or maybe he wasn't supposed to see this mess, and she'd been sent to deal with him. In any case, he couldn't say no, so he trailed numbly after her into the hall.

She didn't stop there, leading him around several bends, all the way to the stairwell, and down several flights of stairs. When they emerged they were on ground level.

Henchman scrambled to keep up with her stride out the door and into the parking lot. "Um, eminence," Henchman panted, finally remembering the correct title, "do you need help carrying some things upstairs? I could call you a couple runners if you need."

Villain popped open the passenger door to a steel blue coupe. "Get in."

Henchman obeyed on instinct. "Um--"

Villain closed the door on his question, circling around the front of the vehicle and sliding into the driver's seat. She jammed the keys into the ignition and roared the engine to life.

"Wait, are we leaving?" Henchman exclaimed, jolting out of his dronish obedience. Cleaning the weapons room was one thing, but leaving the building to who knew where was another. He really didn't want to be killed for completing neither of his responsibilities today.

"We have somewhere to be," Villain said, eyes fixed straight ahead as she wove through the lot. As she turned out on the main road, the car went from 10 to 100 in a matter of seconds. "A mission."

"But I have work!" Henchman yelped, the acceleration pressing his back into the warm leather seat.

"Not anymore."

"But Supervillain--"

"Has different orders."

Henchman tried to unravel that statement. Supervillain had never wanted him on a mission. This had to be some sort of mistake.

"You're sure?" he said. "Supervillain wants me to go with you?

"Yep."

"Because you kind of made it seem like you didn't know who I was?"

"I don't, I'm working off descriptions."

"Henchman?" Henchman offered. "Did he say Henchman?"

Villain lifted one hand off the wheel, pointing at him with a little knowing tongue click. "That's the one. You're my support."

"Oh." Henchman took a few quiet moments to swallow that. Support made more sense. Maybe this was some sort of away mission. Henchman's bakes didn't pack as much oomph when they were stale, so maybe Supervillain had sent him along for optimum power. It must be something really important if that were the case. But then why didn't anyone inform him? Did Other Villain send him to the weapons room out of spite, hoping he wouldn't be told in time? "What's the mission?"

"Hero agency infiltration. One of the big ones. We're going to have fake identities, safe houses, everything."

Henchman frowned. That sounded like a mission with lots of planning involved, not a spur-of-the-moment run-out-the-door sort of thing. "Is it far?"

"Very far." Villain turned sharply onto the highway's entry ramp. "And top secret. So you can't call anyone."

Henchman's insides twisted. He didn't get this far in a villain organization without being able to feel when something was off. But he also didn't get this far by asking too many questions.

"Ok."

Villain didn't say anymore after that. Henchman half pondered asking if he should turn on some music but decided against it. He leaned his head back against the seat rest, taking in the rumble of the engine and the muffled whip of the wind along either side of the car's sleek body. Villain breathed from her side of the car, but he tried not to think to hard about that. He'd barely interacted with her more than a handful of times, and only ever in passing or with a group. None of which he expected her to remember. Supervillain knew who he was because he knew how to utilize him. Villain didn't need to know any of that to do her job, which was to be the most lethal weapon in Supervillain's arsenal.

Henchman struggled against heavy eyelids, the soothing glide of the car and the exhaustion of the day hitting him all at once. He'd been prepping those pies for hours before Other Villain interrupted him. The apples were going to go bad if he wasn't back in a couple days. He couldn't even call one of the other chefs to finish them for him with this no-call rule, not that they'd have full effect without him doing each step anyway.

He yawned widely.

What sort of things...did Villain...like...?

Henchman didn't remember dozing off, but when he came to, the sky was dark and his face was pressed up against his window.

"I'm going to make you clean that glass," Villain said.

Henchman raised his head drowsily, squinting at the drool smear for several long seconds before shooting up completely straight in his seat.

"I'm sorry!"

Villain rolled her eyes. "You don't need to grovel about it." She pushed open her door and stepped out into the night. "Anyway, we're here."

"Here?" Henchman said, quickly getting out after her.

Villain nodded at the building with its glowing red overhead sign: Azure Inn. "Hotel."

"This is our safe house?"

"This is on the way to the safe house," Villain said, then shooting him a glare. "Stop asking so many questions."

Henchman bit his lip to stop from asking how much further they had to go tomorrow or where they even were now. He simply trailed her into the office as she purchased their room--two twin beds--and then continued after her to room 109.

Everything was blue. Curtains, bedspreads, carpets; it was no wonder how the hotel got its name.

Villain headed straight into the bathroom and Henchman plopped down on one blue bed stretching his long legs to the end with a soft groan as his thoughts wandered once again to the kitchen. This time to the pie dough, sitting in the open air in its tin. It was probably dry by now. His eyes flicked to the wall clock. 12:20 a.m. Supervillain's dinner was over by now too. How did they manage?

The bathroom door creaked, and Villain stepped into the main room, long hair loosed on her shoulders, framing her face in a thick, kinked mane.

Henchman's heart skipped a stupid beat.

As if hearing it, Villain's eyes whirled in his direction, pinning him to the mattress like finely whetted blades. "What are you doing?"

Henchman slowly pushed himself upright."Going...to bed?"

"You're support; you need to keep watch."

"For what?"

"For heroes, moron!" she snapped.

Henchman flinched. "Oh. Right. Um. They know we're coming?"

Villain stormed across the room, yanking back the covers and throwing herself violently onto her mattress. “We don't know, but it's better to be safe than sorry. You already slept in the car, so just stay awake until morning.”

“Right.” Henchman watched Villain snuggle beneath the covers locks of hair fanning like licking flame across her pillow. He cleared his throat. "One more question."

Villain sighed. "What?"

"What do you expect me to do if a hero does show up?”

“Fight them?” she said in a tone that reeked of suspicion that Henchman might actually be stupid.

“Ha, yes, that would seem obvious,” Henchman replied, attitude sneaking into his own tone. “If I knew how.”

Villain shot upright. “What?”

“Combat isn’t my speciality.”

“But you’re a combat henchman!”

Henchman furrowed his brow. “Nooo.”

"What do you mean? You were in the weapons room!”

"Yeah, because Supervillain killed them all! And apparently there was no one else around to clean up the mess!”

“He…?” Villain drew up her knees, leaning her elbows on the caps and rubbing her thumbs hard into her temples. “No, no, no, no. He’s further ahead than I thought. Has he already…? No. Maybe…”

“Villain?”

She jerked her head sharply toward him. "What do you do?"

Henchman wet his lips, the sheer contrast of Villain’s expectations, of this entire mistake, hitting him all at once. He looked down at the mattress sheepishly. “I bake."

Part Two

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindonessy @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @talesofurbania1 @sweetsigyn @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars @kurai-hono-blog

#villain x henchman #villain x villain #creative writing #hero x villain #heroes and villains #heroes and villains community #writblr #writing snippet #villain #fiction #writers of tumblr #hero x villain community

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cassiachales · 8 months ago

Text

Journal Entry Two [And Realising That Grayson Hawthorne Has A Slutty Waist]

note: i actually didn't expect people to like this and actually read it ajhhagfrkyuesyrk thanks for all your nice comments <33

Sunday– Simply put, I’m fucked. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Xander’s amazing plan began by throwing a party in Hawthorne House, and honestly, after drinking a bit too much last night, you didn’t find enough courage in yourself to drink more.

Because Xander’s parties always, always had a game of Whiskey Woes, and whiskey made your head spin.

Xander: Honestly, you should be glad I’m not locking you two in a room together 😏

You read and re-read that message countless times, not believing that Xander was actually trying to set you up with Grayson.

Like seriously?

You, someone who has life, and him, who’s a living statue? Even a random person on the street would say that the two of you didn’t belong together, no etceteras at all.

You: I don’t think whatever you’re planning is any better

Xander: Trust in me

Trusting a Hawthorne is the biggest mistake one can make. It’s a bad idea.

Unfortunately, you’re filled to the brim with bad ideas.

That’s how you found yourself in the sunroom of Hawthorne House at eight p.m., unopened whiskey bottles on the floor and papers with pens. Every single Hawthorne was there, except for Nash.

Bartending, apparently.

Avery was there too, sitting on the sofa with Jameson at her feet. And then there was Maxine Liu, who you knew to be Avery’s best friend.

Grayson was on an armchair, his legs stretched out and his body leaning to the side, his index finger on his temple and his elbow settled on the armrest.

Xander cleared his throat, and you began to dread what he was planning.

“As everyone here knows, no party is complete–or begins–without Whiskey Woes. Usually, we write a secret on a piece of paper, a secret that completely breaks you, and throw it in the Bowl of Woe.” He points towards a flowery plastic bowl in the middle of the room, decorated with chipped paint which illustrated roses and lilies.

“And then, we sit in a circle and ask questions. Each of you get one bottle of whiskey, and each time you pass a question, you drink a whole glass. When your bottle is over, you read out your woe. But this time, we’re doing things differently.”

Oh, no.

Xander smirked, and Jameson’s back straightened. Grayson’s eyebrow raising was the only sign of interest he showed.

“This time, we’re doing this in pairs. Choose your partners wisely.”

And then Xander extended his hand to Maxine, and Maxine took it.

They settled on the floor together, pulling one bottle of whiskey each and two slips of paper and pens.

“Well then, Heiress?”

“As if I’m choosing someone else.”

Jameson took his place on the sofa, bringing with him the supplies to play the game.

That left you, and a certain Grayson Hawthorne.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Whiskey Woes in a group is pain, but in pairs? With Grayson Hawthorne? No. Just no. Someday, I’m going to kill Xander for this, because it’s not like Grayson had any other choice other than teaming up with me. Whiskey, a game, and Grayson Hawthorne? Recipe for disaster. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Do I have a choice on not playing?” Grayson asked, and honestly, points to him. You don’t want to play a game with whiskey involved with him.

Xander smirked again. “Do you want to quit, Gray?”

Grayson stiffened.

“Oh, and another rule. If you don’t want to drink the whiskey and not answer a question, you remove an article of clothing from your body.” Xander continues.

Now, you glared at him.

“Sounds like you’re trying to mix in Strip Bowling.” Jameson said.

Xander shrugged. “I made the game, I make the rules.” Then he says your name. “Planning on playing? Gray’s the only one left, by the way.”

“Can’t I just drink without playing?”

“No.”

You sigh, getting up from your seat on the floor and moving towards the armchair Grayson sits on.

He looks at you walk towards him, and you want to combust.

You extend a hand. “Partners?”

He sighs, sitting up straight in his chair before lifting one hand and clasping yours in a stiff shake. “Partners.”

“Great.” You sit on the floor again. “Now sit down.”

He looks at the floor distastefully. “Must I?”

“It’s either you sitting on the floor or me sitting in your lap. Take your pick.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── And you know what’s worse? I told him to either sit on the floor, or let me sit on his lap. I DIDN’T MEAN FOR IT TO COME OUT LIKE THAT, I SWEAR. IT SOUNDED LIKE I WAS GOING TO DO THAT SEXUALLY OR WHATEVER BUT SERIOUSLY, I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Excuse me?” He doesn’t let you repeat what you said, though, sliding down from the chair and loosening his tie, sitting on the floor as though he’d rather be anywhere else.

He removes his jacket, throwing it on the armchair and rolling up his sleeves till the elbows.

You can’t stop looking.

“Done staring?” He asks, dryly.

You ignore him, writing your woe on the slip of paper instead.

I find Grayson Hawthorne hot. Yes. That’s it.

There. Something not too bad, but still suitable for Whiskey Woes.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Trust me. I’m not going for sexual. It just happens. And no, I’m not writing down what I wrote. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Grayson tries to get comfortable when he writes, one long leg bent with the knee upwards, and near his head. His hair falls over his face as he writes, the paper on the floor.

He looks devastatingly handsome.

He takes your folded slip of paper and walks towards the Bowl of Woe, depositing the slips in the bowl and bringing back two bottles of whiskey.

He pours his whiskey into a glass, to the brim, and uncaps your bottle to pour in your glass too. And then:

“You start.”

You scramble for a question, before you settle on one.

“Do you actually tango?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── I am embarrassment in a body ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Excuse me?”

You blink once, twice, thrice before you look away, “Forget it.”

“Pfffft.”

His lips are in a small smile, which he tries to cover with his fingers.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── But tell me, Why. Is. His. Laugh. So. Hot. It wasn’t even a real laugh. Just a small pfffft and it was both cute and hot?? ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Yes.” Grayson says, answering your question. “I’m assuming you get into tough situations a lot?”

You nod. “Now ask your question.”

His look is almost smug. “That was my question.”

“Did you know you’re almost cute when you don’t act like an entitled asshole?”

He drinks the whole glass of whiskey.

You blink. “That wasn’t a question but I’ll accept it.”

Grayson shrugs. “Everything’s a question.”

You don’t know how you ended up in your position around five minutes later. Around half of your bottle is empty, and his is almost over.

“Do you really have to ask such prying questions?” He asks, his eyes almost tired.

“Yes. My turn. Who’s the girl you kissed in Harvard?”

He frowns, taking a look at the bottle of whiskey.

Then he sighs.

You expect him to answer, but he doesn’t.

Instead, his long fingers move to his tie and removes it completely. He tosses it to the side. “One article of clothing.”

You hear Xander tut. “A tie doesn’t count, Gray.” And then the youngest Hawthorne downs a whole glass of whiskey.

Grayson’s fingers begin to undo the top button of his shirt, and he sighs again. “I absolutely loathe this game.”

It’s like watching a show. His long fingers unbutton each and every button before he removes his shirt and tosses it to the side.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── But then, guess what happened. He fucking removed his shirt. I will not tell him this, EVER. But Grayson Hawthorne has a slutty waist. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Journal Entry One ☆ Journal Entry Three

#grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne #au #fanfic #avery kylie grambs #jameson hawthorne #xander hawthorne

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anystalker707 · 2 years ago

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Admiral, my Admiral (1/2)

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x [gender neutral] Admiral! Reader Words: ~ 2 500 Summary: An unusual relationship that starts with a deal. Tags: no talk to him (ace) he angy / he gets to be babied tho / um, there's angst if you don't mind

MASTERLIST

PART TWO

• Ace could remember passing out during a fight. His division wasn’t able to defeat the marine because they happened to run into a fucking strong division

• He tried his best to fight, but he just ended up getting weak when the spear of Sea-prism stone touched his chest and there was nothing else he could do, not even burn the ship so he would die uncaught, in the bottom of the sea; the last thing he could see was the fucking admiral walking towards him before he passed out. Where did the admiral come from, anyways?

• He woke up in a room he didn’t recognize, but could feel the familiar movement of the sea under him, so he was a little relieved he hadn’t been taken anywhere on land. Or maybe it was actually worse, if he thought well

• The whole place was too... patterned. Minimalist. It seems like a guest room and, when he leaves the room, the place keeps the same dark gray, white and blue colors. He keeps going until seeing a sign with the Marine symbol on it makes him shout and try to start lighting everything on fire until he notices the anklet on his leg and it is made out of that goddamned stone

• It is stupid, but he still jumps on you in an attempt to kill you with his bare fists at the moment he finds you at the desk only to be sent flying into the sea with a kick and rescued by your subordinates

• Ace is so full of anger, so small compared to you as he stands on the deck and stares at you—if only looks could kill...—while you don’t even bother to order him to be chained or anything. He feels like he will combust when you look at him and have the audacity to grin

• Your subordinates seem to know something that Ace doesn’t, but none of them pipe a word about it, all of them always talking the minimum possible with him and ignoring his comments whenever they get him food. He almost feels like when he was taken in by Whitebeard all over again, but this time, the feeling isn’t exactly welcoming because the only one being nice to him there is the fucking admiral, even if you can get on his nerves with your sarcasm and superiority complex. That is living hell

• At first, he thinks you will execute him—doesn’t happen. Then, you’re probably taking him to some headquarters to make him prisoner or something—also wrong. He tries to bribe one of your subordinates into telling him, but it never happens; not like he has anything that may interest them

• All he needs to stop fussing around so much is a letter from Garp telling him to trust you; not really the most convincing thing, but surely does leave a thought in the back of Ace’s head

• If you don’t kill him and have a goal, then the logic is simple; you need Ace alive, so you won’t kill him even if he’s the most insufferable fucker in the whole world

• Spending a few weeks on your ship does make Ace soften, though. He ends up finding himself in late night talks with you on the deck because, as much as he doesn’t want to chat, your sweet talk does keep him going. Not to mention the way he finds comfort in you, somehow

• Ace softening up doesn’t mean peace. His way of showing he is more comfortable around you resolves itself around Ace suddenly falling asleep in the most inconvenient spaces and following you around while making the most annoying comments. It doesn’t matter that you’re an Admiral and the power you have—he will get on your nerves because that’s just how he is, even more knowing he won’t get killed no matter how much he annoys one of the strongest, best known marines and warriors out there

• “What’re you doing?” “...Paperwork.” “Well, that I can see. What’s it about, though? Can I see the files about me? You better have everything right. I’m sure my bounty would be higher if you knew everything I’ve done!” “Why don’t you go take a nap or something? Leave me alone, fire boy.” “You’re so annoying! I can’t even—” You look up from your papers and he is... sleeping again. Okay.

• “You must be receiving a great amount to be taking care of me.” “Oh, I wish I were...”

• The relationship between you two turns into something like; Ace: Yo, I’ve broken about 20 important things, almost sank your ship again and made one of your subordinates almost give up on being a Marine You: I know this and I love you

• Ace is a little suspicious if you really have any real destiny—you’re sailing without stopping at any island for longer than a couple of days and never going to any of the headquarters. Are you going against the rules and acting in secret? Really??? For real??? Damn it, someone for once should tell Ace a word about what’s going on. Not only would half of his doubts go away, but also something interesting would happen in that godforsaken ship before he went crazy

• Although, watching the admiral is quite interesting. Well, the admiral is quite interesting...

• He grows quiet for a while, spending some days processing how you are always checking on him every morning and every night before he goes to sleep, sometimes bringing you food in person and spending some of your time with him

• Why do you want to know if he is emotionally okay and has everything he needs? It's almost like you care

• Then there are those long, uncomfortable silences in which he doesn't know what to do because, maybe unintentionally, those little comments of yours and light smirks have his face turning bright red and something stirring inside his chest

• How did he even allow the admiral to get into his head like that? He can't let it continue this way, though

“(Y/n)!” Ace whined as he walked into your office and didn’t even care about what you were doing before he threw himself on your lap, holding onto your shoulders as he dramatically leaned back.

“Ace—”

“I am afraid I am about to die! Your ship is so, so boring and your subordinates never talk to me!” He closed his eyes, making a face as if he were under a lot of pain—or at least trying to—, with no regard for the documents he almost made you ruin. “Like, why can’t they give me the combination to the vault? Or let me mess with the sails? That’s no fun!”

You would’ve chuckled if Ace weren’t being so obnoxious, so you just leaned back on the chair and observed him; he pouted at the silence and sat up properly on your lap. He takes in a breath, but you never allow him to voice whatever it is.

“Look, I am throwing you in the sea if you continue like this!”

“As if!” Ace chuckles. “You can’t k...”

Oh, it can’t be. Still, the soft snoring that comes from Ace confirms your theory and you roll your eyes, bouncing your leg lightly.

“Oi! What do you think you are doing, Ace?” You finally let go of your pen and your papers, shaking Ace a little. “Get lost, fire boy! I already forbid you from interrupting me while I’m on my paperwork! Why don’t you go read the books I lent you, hm? Go sleep in your room, at least. In the kitchen. I don't care.”

“It’s no fun without you.” Ace groaned, and you couldn’t help but to smirk and raise an eyebrow; a red tone took over his cheeks. “I—I mean, you’re the one who—”

“The one who?” You nodded for him to continue, resting your cheek against your palm. “Go on.” Ace exhaled, pressing his lips together as he looked away, and the lack of answer made you chuckle while wrapping an arm around his torso. “Oh, you don’t know what to do now that you have my full attention? Just wasting my time? I gave you rules to stay on my ship, Ace.” Your fingers held onto his jaw so he would look at you. “And I—”

Lips pressed to yours interrupted your words. Ace’s lips. You couldn’t help but to kiss back because he kept pressing his lips to yours for a few seconds, dismissing your hesitance, and even daring to hum softly once you started to kiss him back.

None of you stop. It started a chain of kisses that was enough to make you forget about your paperwork, lost in kissing the lips of a filthy pirate that fell in your hands because of a deal. Both of you had this same feeling; the spark of knowing that this was wrong and forbidden was what ignited your feelings for each other. Ace’s lips tasted like the sea, like the sweets he was eating earlier, but also tasted like freedom. A little bit of power that you had over the Marine and the World Government because no matter what you did, you knew no one would agree to have you dismissed from the Marine and they couldn't control every single action of yours.

Your fingers hooked with the hair on the back of Ace’s head to pull him away from the kiss a little. “You are down bad,” you mumbled into his ear.

• Once, Ace hears you talking to Sengoku. He sees you in your office, back to the door and with a den den mushi in hand. Your voice is calm, but not the sort of calm like you are when you raise an eyebrow at Ace then shrug in dismissal before you tell him to do whatever he pleases, no; it is the type of calm when your subordinates do something you don’t like, so you suppress your annoyance to long glares and pursed lips

• “No...” You say to the snail, “I am busy. I won’t be there for the next meeting. You already know my position in this. It is the same as Garp’s. And you know I haven’t seen Fire First. I would’ve reported already. Has he disappeared or something? You haven’t heard a thing about him for weeks.”

• And he doesn’t listen anymore. He doesn’t want to. Either way, it is enough to change the context again, from “stop locking me here” to “thanks for keeping me safe”

• You don’t understand what’s up with Ace being softer around you, but it is well welcomed. There’s something sweet about how he places a chair next to your desk and folds his arms over the table with his head on them, quietly observing you work until he falls asleep

• Actually, one night, Ace knocks on your bedroom’s door. He just walks past you and collapses on the bed at the moment you open the door. And fuck. That boy’s audacity. Whatever. It’s nice to hold onto something while you sleep

• And the fact your subordinates will walk into you making out with Ace on your lap while you’re in your office and just ignore what is happening is just... Hell, you love it

• There’s a whole new routine with Ace by your side

• The moment Ace has to leave comes quicker than you expected. It’s already time for you to return to your usual admiral duties and also for Ace to go back to the sea because there’s no longer a threat

• He can’t believe that keeping him was a whole plan to keep him safe while you, Garp and a few others did your best to convince the Marine that Portgas D. Ace was not a threat, so he shouldn’t be executed

• Ace is at loss of words, unable to formulate a thanks that’s genuine enough and expresses all of his feelings because you only fucking let him know about it when you’re dropping him at an island where Whitebeard already awaits for him. He wants to cry, to hug you, to kiss you, to ramble about how thankful he is, all at the same time—but he can’t

• You chuckle at how lost he seems, grinning happily and telling him he can go because he is safe now

• Ace doesn’t leave without giving you a kiss, a deep one

• What seemed to be a short-term thing, ends up leaving your hearts aching for more once you’re away from each other, in the sea. It is risky, it is dangerous, difficult to manage, even, but you’re picking Ace up in a random island to spend the night with you whenever you are able to, with excuses to the marine that you ended up letting him escape because your priorities were others. Sometimes he will just show up randomly with that devilish smirk on his face

• As much as you’re an admiral, your little relationship does reach the Marine’s eyes and ears, and it doesn’t seem to help them in the slightest bit because you’re not only with one of their highest potential enemies; your behavior also encourages other pirates a little too much, as if it gives them some sort of excuse or extra freedom. You’d always been a little rebel considering the Marine and World Government’s rules, so maybe you’ll go a little too far soon—if you haven't already

• Getting rid of Ace wouldn’t mean just getting rid of a big threat—it also would have you under the Marine’s control once for all

• First of all, the Marine can’t get rid of an admiral so powerful like you, so it isn’t a choice to dismiss or execute you, so that leads to Ace. Given the way you are lovesick, getting rid of Ace will teach you a lesson—and a lesson to every other marine and pirate as well—, and your head will be focused on doing your job. You won’t rebel against the only people who know your weaknesses and help you be stronger

• The new census doesn’t need you and Garp to vote; it doesn’t matter what a small biased minority things about such a threat

• You already suspect what's going on when they send you across the ocean, and it gets worse when they start to guide you to a weird island you’ve never seen before

• Held. You’re being held across the ocean because they know you can save Ace if you have the opportunity, because you’re too precious to be wasted for such an insignificant matter. You’ll just be force– I mean, invited to a confidential meeting later to establish that your relationship with Ace will be forgiven and forgotten since they know it won’t happen again and you’re such a great admiral that they can’t risk losing you. You will have to sign a few documents and be under constant watch for a few months after it

• For now, you will just sit in this cold cell knowing your love is being executed

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

PART TWO

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jikjinz · 1 year ago

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❝ [where is my mind] ¡! ❞

CONTAINS: treasure legal line (without mashi & yedam) x reader, separately; perverted behavior & thoughts, panty-stealing; suggestive themes, let me know if i should add something !!

TAGLIST: @he4rtsforjihoon @yedamies-blackswan @ahncosette

a/n: gotta repost some stuff ehe

✧.* CHOI HYUNSUK !!

a shy baby, definitely flustered by his own thoughts! But on the other hand, he just can’t resist it; his mind almost automatically wanders toward such things. definitely the type of guy who gets nervous and stiff every time you hug him because omg !!! you’re so close to him !!! He likes to watch your hands and lips, but he focuses on these parts purely mindlessly. though when he does, he can’t help but think. think hard. think hard to not think about how your hands would look in his, how your hands would look around his length, or how your lips would feel on his neck. when he catches himself thinking so, all he wants is to disappear; there’s no way you’re interested in him, right? right?

more under the cut !!

✧.* PARK JIHOON !!

he is cocky indeed, though there’s one exception: you. every time you’re around, he either gets quiet or too loud and angry. it seems like he doesn’t like you that much, at least that’s what everyone thinks. in reality, he likes you way too much. sometimes it even physically hurts. especially when he’s trying to get off, but his hand is not enough. he needs you. neither your panties he’s stolen nor the images he has in mind with you can help. all he needs is your pretty hole and your shaky pleading voice. At this point, he’s sure you are provoking him, although he has brought this upon himself while stealing your first pair of panties. since then, you try to test his limits and see how fast he breaks.

✧.* KANEMOTO YOSHINORI !!

“don’t test me, i will cry at you” type of guy. another shy and flustered baby. he tries to justify himself thinking that you’re doing this all on purpose. it looks like you want to make him so dirty, don’t you??? and all he can do about it is just scream into his pillow because there’s no way he can make it happen !!! he gets so blushy every time you talk to him; most of the time it’s you who do the talking since yoshi is too focused on keeping his burning desires solely for him. there is NO way he’s confessing to you. not at all. definitely not. nu-uh. though when you look at him with those doe eyes… he might break… keep it up!!!

✧.* KIM JUNKYU !!

the scared screamer type. every time he has a dirty thought about you, he will hit those high notes, scaring you off as well. will try to keep you as far away as possible, so maybe he’ll forget about you. forget about you and about what he would want to do with you. he tends to daydream about you a lot, like A LOT. doesn’t matter what he’s doing or where he is, his mind tends to go back to your body nicely hugged by the tightest dress he’s ever seen you in. then a loud scream occurs because poor boy scared himself with such thoughts :(((

✧.* YOON JAEHYUK !!

he is on the edge. he is being tested, he knows that. he also knows he is about to break. break his composure and the bed he’s gonna fuck you on if you’re gonna keep testing him like that. at this point, it looks like some kind of competition. the tension is strong between you both, but neither of you wants to admit it. since you are so obvious, he’s taking few advantages of certain situations. every time you wear a nice shirt with few buttons undone, he will stare at your cleavage shamelessly. probably will leave a comment about how your boobs would look better with his marks all over them.

✧.* HAMADA ASAHI !!

he is way too cool for his own good. he’s pushing all these lewd thoughts for way too long!!! he is about to combust with them !!! even though he often says that he’s ok, he is not. definitely not. not at all especially when its summer and you’re eating popsicles. or when you’re too hungry to care about how you look while eating a banana. it’s not like you ever cared, though. you’re too innocent to even think someone else would think lewdly about such a mundane thing, right? either too innocent or too blind to notice how asahi is turning his strawberry-red face away, covering it up with his hand. nah, he’s ok.

| TREASURE MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST |

@ jikjinz / @ ness-iness 2022-2023, do not copy, do not translate or paste on other sites without permission !!

#fics: treasure #treasure headcanons #choi hyunsuk #park jihoon #yg treasure #yoon jaehyuk #junkyu #treasure smut

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acaciusbride · 1 year ago

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Ache: Ezra x AFAB!Reader

Summary: you and Ezra get hit by something mysterious in the atmosphere, and it has... interesting... results.

CWs: dubcon (sex pollen) / breeding kink / Ezra's filthy mouth / unsafe PIV sex / squirting / established relationship (kind of).

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist

Tagging: @serenaxpedro , @ezras--moon & @bearsbeetsbeskar

You think you’re used to everything The Green has to offer; the toxic air, the asshole mercenaries, the long days. Think you can handle everything it has to give you, especially now you have a somewhat established situationship with your companion.

Hell, it’s almost nice, the routine you’ve established. Go out prospecting, make it back to the lander, decontaminate, eat, curl up together in a tangle of sweat and satisfaction, Ezra whispering poetry into your ear.

It would be almost romantic if nine times out of ten, you weren’t dripping his cum onto the sheets. Or maybe that’s what makes it so. You don’t want to think too hard about what you are; putting labels on it just complicates things. You’re his, as much as he’s yours, and that’s all there is to it. Anything else makes it too difficult, too real, and once it becomes real, it means you have something to lose.

Anyway.

You’re not sure what’s happened; it’s usually cool in the lander at night, but you’re sweating, overheating, and it has nothing to do with your lover’s hands on you.

Part of you wonders if the air filters have gone faulty again, but you aren’t exactly thinking about the science of the situation right now, far too consumed with need and heat that won’t go away, no matter how desperate you are as you pull him to you, rub your soaked cunt along his cock.

Normally he’d comment on how needy you are, taunt you for it, but whatever is coursing through you has hit him, too, and hit him hard. He’s just as needy as you are, which is saying something.

Usually, he’s the one in control, perfectly composed and whispering filth into your ear as he steadily fucks into you. Not now. He’s clawing at you, spreading your thighs roughly, as though the only thing that matters to him right now is getting your legs wide enough for him to fit between.

It’s a fair assessment; you completely understand it, just as desperate, dragging your dripping pussy along his length as he lifts you into his arms, into his lap, guides himself to your entrance and pulls you, unceremoniously, downwards.

You cry out, making absolutely zero attempt at muffling the sound as you sink onto him, impale your tight cunt on the perfect thickness of him, wriggle your hips to settle, but it’s not enough. He’s as deep inside you as he can get, hips flush to yours, but you still need more, and so does he.

He draws himself out half way before dragging you back down by the hips, drawing a desperate moan from you that jolts straight to his cock. You’re so tight around him, he can feel himself pulse and throb inside you, swears he can feel every drop of pre cum that you milk from his cock as it drips into your eager, welcoming cunt.

“Fuck, please, I need-“ you aren’t even entirely sure what you need; he’s already as deep inside you as he can get, rocking his hips steadily, hitting that sweet spot inside you with each deep stroke.

“I know, sweet thing, I know…” Ezra moans it into your shoulder, even though he doesn’t know either, can’t put into words what you both so desperately need, even though he feels it too. Maybe there’s no words for it, just an overwhelming desire and need to be intimate like this, as though he might actually combust into flames if he doesn’t fuck himself as deep into you as possible.

A tiny part of his brain registers, dimly, that that isn’t scientifically possible, but then again, what does he know? As far as he was aware, whatever the fuck you’ve both been hit by in the atmosphere isn’t scientifically possible, either. The bigger part of his brain - and, arguably, the part thinking with his achingly hard cock - doesn’t care about science right now. All that matters is the steady rhythm of pulling half out of you, slamming back in, over and over, drawing those sweet, unrestrained moans from your lips.

You’ve never been this loud before, this confident; Ezra supposes it’s something to do with the drugs, rather than anything else; it doesn’t hurt his ego, because either way it’s still him causing this reaction, causing you to drag your nails up his chest, leaving claw marks in your wake. He’ll wear those like badges of honour, he thinks, as he leans in and sinks his teeth into your shoulder, sucks a deep purple mark into the soft skin.

You claw at him again, bear down onto him, your voice a wordless symphony of moans and pleas, even if there’s no actual words coming out; he can tell, knows what you want from him. Harder, faster, deeper if he can get there. He does, doesn’t care about the ache he’ll feel later, just as much as you don’t care about the subtle pain as he slams into you. All that matters is this.

You lean in, have to lean up, even in this position, and steal a hungry, demanding kiss, one hand knitting into his hair to keep him close as you take what you need from him, uncaring that when you pull away, your lips are still connected by a faint string of saliva. Maybe any other time, you’d find that disgusting. Not now. Now all that matters is leaving as much of each other on the other as possible.

“Starving, aren’t you?” There’s that vicious glint in his dark eyes again as he nuzzles his face between your tits, pulls you down onto his cock particularly hard. “Can’t blame you.”

He sucks a hardened nipple into his mouth, moans at the taste of sweat and salt on your skin, holds you in place as your back arches. He isn’t gentle, teeth scraping, lips greedy; in his frenzied state he almost wishes you had something to give, would gladly lap at any liquid that he could draw from your body, especially when he’s commented before on how much he fucking loves your tits.

Maybe he should just do as you’ve begged of him before, as he’s considered, and fuck you so full of his spend that it takes, claim you as his, spend his nights worshipping at the altar of your body as it grows new life.

His cock throbs inside you at the thought as he pulls away to demand another kiss, moaning into it as his hips buck up against yours; you can only hold on, breathing ragged and desperate, no relief in sight no matter how many times you come for him. At least, not yet.

“C’mon, little dove, I know you can come for me, I can feel how close you are...”

You gasp out, half at the words, half because he finds your sweet spot, the thick head of his cock caressing it almost lovingly with each deep thrust.

“Fuck -“ you whine it out, drawn out and needy, “right there…”

He takes the hint, doesn’t change up the way he’s moving, keeps rutting into you like a man possessed, his hands holding you steady, stroking up and down your back as he urges you closer and closer, until you’re tightening painfully around him, back arching, aching cunt gushing over his cock, soaking him, you, his lap, the thin sheets.

It’s almost instant relief, like a fog in your head is cleared, but all you can do is cling to him; you have no idea how long you’ve been out of it, how long he’s been fucking you, but you’re aching and exhausted and yet still so desperate and determined that he’ll find pleasure too.

Whatever has hit you both clearly still has him in its grasp; part of you wonders if you should stop, now that you’re clear headed, but the way he’s holding onto you like you’re the last tether to life makes it impossible, even if you truly wanted to.

He nuzzles into your shoulder again, presses open mouthed kisses to every inch of skin he can reach, like he can’t get enough of your scent, your taste, all while keeping himself pressed deep inside you, grinding his hips up into yours.

“Fuck… fuck…” he’s more moaning than speaking; you’ve never heard him sound so desperate, so needy. It must do something to you, because he groans again, nips at the junction of throat and collarbone.

“So wet for me, little dove, so fucking wet, I could find nirvana in this sweet little cunt, fuck-“

Normally, Ezra is a little more restrained; a little more eloquent in his words, making even the most sinful thoughts sound like poetry. Hearing him like this, completely unrestrained, almost feral, sends you over the edge again, drugged or not. You don’t need to be hit with some weird shit in the atmosphere to come again for him, and you do, clinging to him, gasping and sobbing his name as he fucks you through it, trailing more bites and kisses in his wake.

“Gonna come soon, birdie.” His voice is soft in your ear as he kisses just below it. “Gonna stuff you so full of me you’ll be dripping for days…”

You whimper softly at the thought; so far you’ve only been held in his arms, half riding him, half being pulled down onto him. He takes advantage of your distraction to flip you, press you into the bunk so he can fuck deeper into you, harder and faster as he chases his own release, entirely blind to anything but pleasure.

You’re more than happy to be used, to feel the comforting weight of him pressing your body down, your legs hooked tightly around his waist. It’s as if your bodies were made for each other, and you know it, staring up at him through half lidded eyes, lips parted as you study him, that single blonde streak in his hair falling into his face as already dark eyes become depthless with lust as he slams into you one final time, holds himself there.

You can feel him pulsing inside you, feel every hot, thick rope of his spend that fills you as he finally collapses on top of you, panting into your shoulder.

“Fuck… fuck…” he breathes it out between deep breaths, sounding more and more like himself with each passing moment.

You reach up one shaky hand to stroke his hair, just wanting to touch him, to reassure him that you’re there with him.

Silence fills the lander for a few moments before he finally speaks again.

“Hey, birdie?”

“Yeah?” Your voice is still a little ragged, too.

“Think we need to change out the filters in our suits.”

He lifts his head to give you a little smirk; you stare at him for a moment before you laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah I think we do, too.”

Neither of you make any attempt to move; you can change the filters out before you go out again. For now, you just stay wrapped up in each other, enjoying the afterglow and the ache that comes with it.

#pedro pascal #my writing #ezra (prospect)#ezra prospect x reader #ezra x reader #ezra prospect #ezra smut #pedro pascal characters #prospect 2018 #prospect movie

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 1 year ago

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Beneath a Waning Moon║ ⒸⓄⓁⓁⒺⒸⓉⒾⓄⓃⓈ

| BENEATH A WANING MOON | part of the A Savage Place collection ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║

| PAIRING(s): sub!Joel Miller x dom!fem!OC | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 7k | CONTENT: typical canon violence, exploration of power dynamics, submissive and domination practices, dirty talk, rewards and punishments, Joel learns to be a good boy

| SYNOPSIS: You’re patrol partners with Joel, and that’s where you first noticed just how tightly wound the man is. His unrelenting need to be in control of any given situation or interaction is more irritating than anything. That is, until it actually becomes dangerous during one fateful patrol shift together.

Jesus Christ you think to yourself. This man is so tightly wound it’s a wonder he hasn’t spontaneously combusted yet.

“Don’t exactly have a world-class dentistry outfit in Jackson, Joel,” you mutter.

Your ever snippy and disagreeable patrol partner whips his head around to meet you with narrowed eyes. Your comment is the first thing to break the silence in almost an hour. It would’ve been a peaceful quiet, too, if it weren’t for Joel’s nonstop teeth grinding. His jaw muscles were working his teeth so feverishly he would only have smooth, rounded nubs left in their place soon enough.

“The fuck you on about now?” he gripes.

Charming, as always.

“Might wanna cool it on gnawing your fucking teeth. You’re grinding your jaw so fucking loud, Miller. I know you have to have a headache. When you crack one of those puppies there isn’t gonna be much to do for you except take you out back and put you outta your misery,” you drawl.

You turn your attention back out the window of the small patrol station that once upon a time was a hunting blind box for Jackson resort-goers. The recreational function of it had long passed. No deer or duck hunting here. Just hunting clickers or tracking raiders, or any of the other millions of threats that presented themselves to the safety of Jackson.

Maybe that’s what had Joel worked up all the time. It was hard to say. He was never an easygoing person, but you’d think getting a good night’s rest, on a comfortable mattress, inside a heated house, inside a walled off city would be enough to get him to relax a little. No such luck. He only seemed to get worse the longer you knew him.

It was your fourth month of being his patrol partner. You had almost laughed when Tommy approached you to take up the task after all of Joel’s other assigned partners had asked to be grouped with somebody else.

Turns out Joel had quite the nasty streak that didn’t take much to get directed at whatever poor bastard had said the wrong thing or breathed the wrong way or moved too abruptly. You weren’t afraid of some giant manbaby, and Tommy seemed at his wit’s end. So, you agreed to the pairing.

“Yeah, I gotta fuckin’ headache alright. Sittin’ right next to it,” Joel snaps in a huff.

You smirk at the unsurprising retort. Should’ve seen it coming.

“Set myself up for that one,” you chuckle lowly.

Joel only offers a derisive exhale through his nose at you and settles back into his cranky silence.

You were nearing the end of your shift, and boredom had set in. You decide to pass the rest of the time by getting on Joel’s nerves. You were good at it, too. His acrid demeanor didn’t faze you one bit, and that only seemed to annoy him more. His usual tricks that sent just about everybody else running for the hills wasn’t going to cut it with you. He’d have to try a lot harder if he wanted to ruffle your feathers.

Plus, there was something about him that made you want to break him down and see what was inside. He had a hell of a guard up, you’d give him that much.

“You think Ellie likes you enough to spoonfeed you applesauce once you grind your teeth to marbles and can’t handle solids?” you ask with an airy, casual tone.

“Shut–the fuck–up,” Joel grunts.

“Hm, I’ll take that as a no. I might be up for it, but only if you ask real nice,” you needle.

“Can’t believe you’re this much of a pain in the ass, but I’m the one who scares everybody off,” he huffs with an annoyed shake of his head.

You let out a genuine laugh at that, and Joel rolls his eyes.

“Imagine if you hadn’t been such a nasty grouch to any and everybody that was assigned to you before me. You could be up here with Phillip right now instead,” you chortle.

“Sounds fuckin’ worse, somehow. I hated bein’ assigned with him. God, he’s such a little fuckin’ bitch,” he snorts.

“He is. He really is,” you laugh in amused agreement.

You settle back into a comfortable silence now that Joel is aware of his teeth grinding and has stopped. For now. He’d be right back to it and whatever other shitty coping mechanisms he had to work out his stress. Although it sometimes made for an irritating shift, Joel’s high strung disposition presented a greater risk. It was inevitable that it would get in the way of his ability to keep a level head during patrol, maybe even making a grave mistake. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Turns out, it was the former. As in, right after you both called it a day and climbed down from the lookout.

You and Joel rounded the corner to the small alcove where your horses were tethered. You stopped Joel in his tracks when you noticed muddy footprints leading to and from the spot. They weren’t yours or Joel’s, and they were fresh. You were both immediately on guard, weapons raised. You and Joel wordlessly went back to back as you started to scan the area for the owner of the footprints.

Before you could determine their location, a lone raider jumped out and kicked Joel’s knees out from under him. It was a flurry of scrambling and shouting after that. The raider had correctly determined the biggest threat as Joel, but he’d incorrectly calculated just how much of a threat you were. You unsheathed your knife with stealth accuracy, but the raider had a foot over you and at least 70 pounds. You only got a single jab into his side before he knocked the weapon out of your hand. “JOEL!” you yell, wildly searching for where the hell your backup was.

Your single stab on the raider had at least been straight into his gut where a number of vital organs were. He swung on you, but his stilted movements allowed you to dodge it quickly. You yank a serrated blade from your bootstrap and drive it into his calf. He shrieked in anger and pain, and you locked his neck into your elbow when he dipped down from the impact of his injury. You apply as much pressure as you can around his neck to cut off bloodflow and hopefully force him to lose consciousness. He struggled against your headlock, and one forceful buck from him made your balance teeter.

A loud whistling sound whizzed by your ear, startling you enough to lose your grip entirely and fly backwards to the ground. When you look up again, Joel is driving your serrated blade into the raider’s skull repeatedly. You scramble up from the ground and pull for Joel to get on his horse. You needed to get the hell out of there. Raiders weren’t lone creatures, and you had no doubt there were others nearby.

Joel wore a shocked expression when he turned to see you above him. He stared back at you like he’d seen a ghost. Like you being in front of him and snapping at him to leave it and go didn’t make sense somehow. The ride back to Jackson was a blur, and you didn’t have time to process what the look meant until after you and Joel gave Tommy the full rundown of events.

With a new group of patrollers gearing up and heading out to assess the area you and Joel had just left, Tommy sent you both on your way to head home and get rest.

Joel was acting almost shy, and that more than anything was what made it click. You dragged Joel into the stables away from prying eyes and ears. His remorseful expression confirmed what you already knew.

“You almost fucking killed me. You fucking idiot. You really almost KILLED ME,” you snap, shoving at Joel angrily.

“I had him in range, but then you moved. It was stupid, I know. I fuckin’ know it was stupid. I wasn’t thinkin’. I’m … fuck, I’m sorry, alright?” he bit out.

“Oh, you’re sorry? You’re sorry for almost shooting me in the fucking head? Sorry because you can’t aim for shit and missed the goddamn raider that was trying to murder me?” you bark. “You almost cost me my life, Joel!”

He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and sighed. “I-I .. fuck, I know. FUCK.”

“You being trigger-happy almost cost me my life.” The statement had started out acidic but ended in a strangled whisper as the reality of how close you had come to dying sunk in. Joel’s high-strung, jumpy inclinations had almost been the end of you.

“Hey, I-I’m sorry…” his voice trailed. It was the softest you had ever heard him. When you looked up at him, his eyes were misted over. It was enough to make your decision of what needed to happen next an easy one.

“You’re coming with me. Now. To my house. No fucking questions,” you growl. You ignore the confused look he gives you and march off. You hear his footsteps behind you because of course he’s not going to argue when he almost killed you today. Whatever you had in mind was clearly warranted after his almost fatal error.

You stomped all the way to your house, angry and sad at what almost happened. You felt that familiar creep in your chest, the one where you needed to be in control for a little while. Be in control of a situation after feeling so helpless. And Joel? Joel needed to decompress. Immediately. Before his clouded mind and judgment actually did cause something horrific to happen.

You lock your front door to your single story home once you both make it inside, and you waste no time in laying the groundwork.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, Joel. You’re gonna do what I say, when I say it. Your pent up bullshit almost got me killed, and you need to fucking let go of it,” you instruct in a dangerously low tone.

Joel raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “Alright. I, uh, I know you’re right. I’m in my fuckin’ head. I know I am. I didn’t think it’d end up … I didn’t think it’d get that far.”

He cast his eyes downward and rubbed the back of his neck. He was genuinely remorseful, but that wasn’t going to cover his transgressions.

“Get naked and get on the bed,” you order. You start removing your shoes and jacket but pause when Joel hasn't moved.

“M’sorry, what the fuck did you just say?” he gasps with an incredulous laugh.

“You fucking heard me, and unless you want to make it worse for yourself I suggest you do as your told,” you shoot back coldly.

Joel looked bewildered and concerned. “You havin’ a fuckin’ mental break or somethin’?”

“You just added five onto your total,” you reply coolly, not bothering to look his way as you undo your shoelaces.

“Huh? Five? Five what?” he asks with a shake of his head. “Did you hit your fuckin’ head on the ground or somethin’?”

When you turn to him with a stern glare, he decides it’s probably not worth it to ask again and starts off towards your bedroom just visible through the living room. You are down to your bra and panties when you make your way to your bedroom. Joel is laying on your sheets completely stripped down, looking uncertain but curious.

“This is the fuckin’ weirdest way somebody’s asked to fuck me,” he admits with a hesitant chuckle.

You chuckle back, but it lacks the warmth and levity of his. “Oh, Joel. That’s not what’s going on here. I need you to pick a word, by the way.”

“It’s not? What? Why the fuck am I naked then? And what’d’ya mean ‘pick a word’?” He was starting to sound irritated, as if he had any right after what he did today.

When you make quick work of crawling across the bed and hovering over him in a straddle position, he loses the next remark on the tip of his tongue.

“Word. Now,” you command.

“I don’t fuckin’ know. Any word? Uh - christ, I dunno,” he falters. He’s rounding back to bewilderment.

“How about ‘trigger-happy’?” you suggest pointedly. Joel swallows, back to being remorseful, and nods.

“So if you need to stop, that’s what you’re going to say. Understand?”

“If I need to stop? Stop what?” he asks, somehow careening right back into confusion.

“Anything that you don’t want to happen. You’ll say ‘trigger-happy’, and whatever is happening will stop,” you explain calmly.

“Uh, alright?”

“I need to hear you say it, Joel. I need to know you understand,” you prod.

You get why Joel is confused as to what it is that he’d have to ask you to stop. He’s bigger than you. He’s stronger than you. He could overpower you easily. There’s not really a scenario where he’d be at a disadvantage. All things considered, it makes a lot more sense that you’d be the one who should be picking a safe word to use if you wanted him to stop something.

“Alright. I understand. Say ‘trigger-happy’ and whatever’s goin’ on will stop,” he repeats dutifully.

“Good boy,” you say with a small smile. Joel’s eyebrows pinch together, but you can see your words had the intended effect when you feel his cock twitch under your thigh.

“Now, your smart mouth earned you an additional five, isn’t that right?” you ask.

“Yeah, whatever the fuck that’s supp-”

“You will answer my question with respect, and you do not speak unless I tell you to. Now say ‘yes, ma’am’ and behave,” you growl.

“This is … jesus, alright. Okay. Yes, ma’am, it was five more,” he drones.

His Southern twang added a sweet little twist to the words, and the sound of it shot straight into your panties.

You trail your hands down his chest and you lift yourself away from him. He hums in response to your touch, and you finally take a moment to appreciate his naked form. A hot thrill spreads in between your thighs when your gaze settles on his half-hard cock. It’s already a delicious length, and the circumference makes the ache in your pussy even worse.

“Like what you see, huh?” Joel chuckles when he catches you staring.

Without missing a beat, you snap your eyes up to his through your brows and inform him he’s added another three to his total for mouthing off. He smirks but doesn’t say anything else.

“On your belly,” you command.

Joel obliges with a nonchalant roll, clearly enjoying what he thinks is nothing more than a strange response to a near-death experience on your part. He’s cooperative with your apparent power trip and need for release.

His bare ass is nicely rounded with decent musculature, but you can see it’s soft enough that your teeth would sink right into the flesh and leave beautiful little marks. However, you have to hold off on that for now as there are more pressing issues at hand.

“You are going to count all EIGHTEEN out loud. If you don’t, they won’t go towards your total. Understand?”

Joel’s head is resting lazily to the side atop his folded arms. “Yes, ma’am. Count ‘em out. Got it,” he hums, almost sounding bored at whatever this strange form of foreplay is that you’re clearly into.

Your smile grows devious as you draw your arm back and strike the tender flesh of his backside. Joel jumps and lets out a noise of disbelief and annoyance.

“What the fuck?!” he snaps.

When you land another slap onto the already reddening patch, he jerks again. “Shame none of these count towards your total. Disobedience gets you nowhere, baby boy.”

“Agh, two! TWO! What the fuck is this sh-”

“No. Not two. You didn’t count them. You have to listen to what I tell you to do, and then do it. So shut the fuck up and count. You’ve got a long way to go.” You cock your head to the side as if you’re daring him to act defiant.

Joel grumbles but repositions himself. You peek a tinge of pink across his chest, neck, and cheeks before he settles back down. The sight of it makes your thighs rub together without thought.

“Now, let’s try this again and see if you can be a good boy,” you say softly. A small choking noise catches in the back of his throat. Fuck. You were going to have to concentrate harder if he was going to start making sounds like that.

You land another swat across his backside and savor the way his skin prickles up in goosebumps.

“One.” His grunt was audible, but his enthusiasm and deference weren’t quite where you wanted them. Another seventeen swats should help get him there. You swat him a second and third time and watch how his thighs constrict and bunch together.

“Tell me how that feels,” you instruct.

Joel shifts and makes a feigned dissenting noise, but you need more than that for this dynamic to work like it should. You crawl back onto the bed and straddle one of his thighs. He makes a much less ambiguous noise when your damp panties meet his bare skin. You smooth a hand over the irritated splotches on his backside. His body relaxes under the palliative motion. A small sigh slips from his mouth.

“Joel, tell me. How does it make you feel when I’m giving you your punishment?” you ask.

He turns his head slightly to look over his shoulder at you. “Dunno.” His eyes flutter for a moment when you start squeezing his smarted flesh.

“Do you want me to stop?” The corner of your lip twitches up when his body tenses at the suggestion.

“No. Not when you’re gettin’ that fuckin’ wet from it,” he snorts.

You smile a little and crawl forward until you’re on all fours above his back. You sink down until your chest is flush with his back.

“You like doing a good job for me?” you purl.

Joel rolls his eyes and grins away from you.

“Mmmm, I like that. I like how you wanna do a good job for me. You do, don’t you?” you prod.

“Hmmpphhh, s’pose I do,” he agrees quietly.

“And that’s what makes you my special boy, Joel,” you coo. His eyes flicker to you with an expression like he’d been found out. Like he wasn’t sure how you were able to have this sort of effect on him all the while him not even being aware of this side to himself. This need. This empty space that you knew about before he did. This empty space that you knew just how to find and fill. This empty space he was now dying for you to take from him and pour yourself into it so he could be whole again.

You had many a time suspected it was in him, somewhere buried deep, but to see it confirmed by the source himself made you all the more resolute to tap into it and show him what else was there.

You smile warmly at him, earnest in the affection it holds. You nuzzle your noses together in a few passes and let him press a small kiss against your lips before sitting up again.

“This is how it works, Joel. You do a good job for me, and you get rewarded.” You emphasize the concept by gently scratching his scalp. He groans contentedly. “But if you fuck up, that’s when I have to punish you,” you add, grabbing a fistful of his hair where you’d just been tenderly minding him.

Joel winced at the pull, but you didn’t miss the pleasured hitch in his breath.

“So are you ready to get back to your punishment, Joel? So that you can try to do a good enough job that I can reward you?” You roll your hips against the small of his back and are amused when he involuntarily raises his hips to meet your movement.

“Yes. M’ready,” he grunts.

“Good. Because I like it when you’re a good enough boy that I can reward you,” you muse. The muscles in his broad back swell and contract with a deep pull of air. He was finally starting to give in a little to the blissful feeling of letting go.

You slink back down to your previous stance, rubbing one more soothing circle against his ass with your open hand.

“Remember to count, baby.”

With that, you resume doling out the punishment Joel had earned himself. Again and again you leave your mark against his tender skin. Your own hand was beginning to tingle from the impact, but the stinging on your palm only made your cunt clench tighter around nothing.

“NGghhh. Goddammit. Seven. FUCK.”

You want to lick the sheen of sweat that was starting to glisten across his back, but you contain yourself. You scoot up to straddle him and lean close to his ear.

“You’re doing so well, baby. Being such a good boy for me. Think I wanna show you what being a good boy gets you, before we work our way to eighteen. What’dya think? Want me to show you?” you murmur into his ear.

He pauses for a moment, groaning slightly in thought and arousal, before nodding.

“I know it’s your first time, so I’m gonna be nice and remind you to use your words.”

Joel swallows deeply. “Yes, ma’am. Wan’you to show me. Please.”

“Ooohh, yes, I like it when you use your manners,” you breathe into his ear.

You trail a hand down to his thigh and nudge him to bend and extend his leg out to the side. The angle lifts his hips slightly off the bed and sideways, and when you sit up behind him you can see his weeping cock, stiff and red at the tip.

“Makin’ a mess, baby,” you tease. You spit into your hand and wrap your fingers gently around his base. He groans at the contact, hips jerking involuntarily.

“Now now, don’t get jumpy. Too much of that today already,” you warn.

Joel stills at your words but looks down where your hand wraps around his length. You lean your chest against his side and back as you talk into his ear again.

“Doin’ so good for me, baby. Knew you could listen.” You slowly drag your fist along his length in steady passes, placing little appreciative kisses on the back of his neck.

The whimper of a sigh he lets out is almost heart-wrenching in its surrender. You realize just how badly he needed this. Not just the release, but handing himself over to someone else and letting them make the decisions. Letting go. Letting himself fall into you, trusting you with it. You swallow back a lump threatening to form in your throat at the thought of it.

“Good boy. Such a good boy for me,” you praise, working him faster.

When he chokes out a needy moan, it makes you want to forget about the rest of his 18 and ride him right then and there. “You sound so good for me. Singing out for me. You like how you get rewarded, huh? For being good for me? I’ll take care of you, baby. You’re safe with me. You just have to let go and give yourself to me, baby. I’ve got you.”

Joel lets out a little strangled whimper, and you have to work to collect yourself.

“Tell me how pretty your cock looks with my hand on it.”

“Ahff-fuck. It’s-god-yes, i-it’s pretty,” he rasps.

“Words,” you scold with a gentle slap to his balls. He jerks backwards with a hiss before rolling his hips forward again, his chest rumbling with a groan.

“My fuckin’ cock looks pretty with your hands on it,” he grits.

“Now was that so hard to do?” you tut. “All you have to do is listen and obey.”

You slowly massage his balls for a moment before getting things back on track.

“Think that’s enough for now,” you whisper, letting him drop from your hold. Joel’s annoyed grunt makes you smile and is amusing enough that you won’t punish him for it. Not this time, at least. “On your back, all the way.”

Joel rolls onto his back and shows a small twinge of discomfort in his expression when his tender backside meets the sheets.

“Sore already, baby? We haven’t even made it halfway to eighteen,” you taunt.

His tongue darts across his lower lip hungrily. He’s closer to where you want him now. You eye the dribbles of precome trickling from his tip. His cock is standing at attention, desperate for any sort of contact.

“Open your mouth.”

When Joel doesn’t follow your command, your temple twitches in irritation.

“Is this gonna be a fuckin’ problem, Joel?” you snap.

You grab roughly at his length, sinking your nails into the sensitive flesh just enough to leave crescent marks.

Joel emits a whinging groan and levels an annoyed glare at you. His breaths are coming in heaves. You give him a moment - it was his first time, after all - and eventually his stony scowl wanes into a yielding frown.

He barely opens his mouth. You tsk tsk with a derisive laugh at his lackluster effort.

“Tongue OUT.” You cock your head sideways for emphasis.

His eyes narrow slightly, but he juts his tongue out, flat and wide. Heat pools in your lower belly at the thought of all the ways it could be put to use.

You had to touch it. See how it felt. Get a better idea of how it would feel running up and down your folds and tonguing your asshole. You snake your pointer finger into his mouth and rub it back and forth against his tongue. You scissor your index and middle fingers underneath it, enjoying the way his mouth looks wide open for you to use however you see fit.

“Suck.”

Joel closes his lips around your two digits and keeps his eyes locked on yours. You pull away from his mouth and admire the covering of slobber he’s worked up. You run the wet digits along the underside of his cock. It jumps at your merciful touch. Joel fists the sheets on either side of him.

“There’s just something about the way you get so pathetic for me that makes me so fucking wet,” you moan.

Joel’s throat bobs with a swallow. It’s as if he thinks making any move too quickly will snip the wrong wire and detonate all his restraint.

“I didn’t tell you that you could close that pretty mouth,” you warn. It falls back open, tongue out and waiting for you to use.

“Good boy,” you praise with a smile.

You lean forward with a soft touch grazing his chest. His eyes flutter at the sensation. You stroke him once without warning, just to see his body snap up to attention. His mouth is opened wide, and you curl your fingers into a tight grasp around his chin before spitting in his mouth.

“Swallow.”

Joel’s cock twitched. He obliged to your request.

“Mmmmhhhmmmmm, you like that, huh, baby? Like when I treat you that way?”

Joel didn’t reply, but his eyes wandered down your body to where you straddled his. You give a slow, teasing roll of your hips, and Joel’s buck up into you. His eyes snap shut tight, and a strained noise gathers in his throat.

“Answer me, Joel. Now.” You land a harsh swat to his inner thigh. He flinches and draws a rough, tight gulp of air between his teeth.

“YES. I like it. Like this. ‘N I like yo-” he cuts himself off.

You catch yourself smiling with tenderness at the slip. You grind firmly into him, and his back arches off the bed.

“Finish that thought, honey. Wanna hear what you were gonna say,” you coax.

“You fuckin’ know what I was gonna say,” he grumbles.

He won’t look at you, and that bothers you. You need him to feel safe enough and comfortable enough to look you in the eye, especially if he’s actually sharing something intimate. But, maybe that would be too much, too fast for Joel. You’ll just have to find a way to work it out of him next time. A boundary was a boundary, after all.

“Tell you what,” you playfully muse. “If you can’t say it, I’ll let you show it instead. Sound good?”

Joel’s eyes snap back to yours immediately with this offer. His expression quickly shifted from guarded to hungry. He nods with unabashed enthusiasm. You smile down at the perfect little pliant mess he’s become for you.

“I think there’s something that needs attention before we get back to counting all those yummy little slaps on your ass,” you purr. “Hands above your head.”

Joel obliges and rests his arms above his head.

“I know that pretty little mouth of yours can do a whole lot of talking and smarting off, but I’m interested to see if it can do anything else.” You unclasp your bra and throw it to the floor. You follow the bob of Joel’s adams apple when he gulps at the sight of your bare breasts.

“Something you wanna say?” you ask sweetly.

“Bring those here, sweetheart. Fuck, you look so good,” he mutters almost to himself. His eyes are locked onto your chest.

“You’re not the one giving orders,” you remind him pointedly.

“I. Uh. I’m not. You’re right, baby, but- fuck you look so good. Can I? Can I please?”

His big brown eyes are watery and earnest, and you have to get your pussy in check yet again.

“Not very convincing. What’s in it for me?” you challenge. You toy with your nipple and watch it harden

under your ministrations. The choked noise from Joel tells you he’s very intent on saying whatever configuration of words will bring your body closer to him.

“I-I wanna make you feel good, sweetheart. After today. Let me, please? Just for a minute. Won’t touch ‘em with my hands. I’ll be good. I’ll keep my hands up like you said,” he promises.

You have to pretend with painstaking effort that you’re indifferent to his pleas. You can feel yourself completely soaking through your panties at this point. You straddle him again, rocking your hips against his cock for good measure, before leaning your torso over his mouth.

“Show me how sorry you are.”

When Joel feverishly takes your entire nipple into his hot, wet mouth, you can’t help the pitched moan that comes out of you. Joel is so worked up that he doesn’t even get cocky like before at your responsiveness to him and instead releases one side and heads straight for the other. He skillfully rolls his tongue around and grazes his teeth in all the right spots.

“Hnngggggg. Fuck, oh fuck. Such a good fucking boy for me. Yes, baby. Use your mouth. Show me how bad you were today. Make it up to me,” you pant.

Joel is a noisy, ardent mess underneath you, devouring and nipping and kissing and sucking at whatever he can, like a man starved of touch for too long. And he probably was. Truth be told, you had gone far too long without the touch of someone else. You were both going to end up a mess if you didn’t slow this down.

You pull back abruptly and slam your mouth onto his in a rough kiss. You don’t stop or reprimand Joel when he removes his hands from above his head and wraps them around you, pulling you closer. It’s a mess of tongues and teeth and saliva as you both desperately taste one another. Your aching pussy is screaming to be touched, and you clamber to hoist yourself over his face. Joel doesn’t need to be told what comes next. He yanks the fabric over your lips aside and delves his tongue into your throbbing wet entrance.

You cry out and grab at his sweaty curls as you start to ride his face. “Don’t you dare fucking stop, Joel. You’re gonna fuck me with your tongue until I come,” you snarl as you set a furious pace rocking your hips against his face.

His large, angled nose grinds delightfully against your clit with each pass, and you feel your orgasm building rapidly. His greedy moans and grunts vibrate against your pussy as you make a drenching mess of his face.

“That’s it–right there, right there,” you rasp. “Hhhmmggg you’re such a fuckin’ pleasure to use, baby.”

By the sound of the noise Joel makes, you think he really must’ve liked what you just said. Fortunately for you, he’s eager to show you through his actions as well. When he pulls you down to anchor you into his mouth and sucks hard on your clit, your orgasm barrels through your gut and legs. You’re a shaking, moaning mess, crying out Joel’s name and grabbing at the headboard in vain for support. He’s pushing and pulling your hips to help you keep the tempo of your grind as you fuck his face.

“GAHDD-Gaah-JOEL!” you shout. “GOOD BOY. FUCK.”

His tongue laves and slurps every drip you give him as he greedily swallows your climax. The rush of pleasure goes straight to your head, and you zero in on your control over Joel with renewed zeal.

“THAT’S MY G-GOOD BOY, BABY. Yes, right there, baby,” you shakily exhale.

You indulge in a few more slowing passes before pushing off his face. You groan at the sloppy mess you’ve left it. Fuck, he looked so good with your wet slick smeared across it. His entire face glistens with a mixture of sweat and your come. You chuckle darkly when you notice he’s breathing primarily through his mouth.

“What’s wrong?” you taunt as you try to hide how out of breath you are from your climax. You swipe across his cheek and pinch down along his nose to remove the accumulation of your spend blocking his nostrils. “Can’t fucking breathe, huh? Got my come up your nose, baby? You’re so nasty. My pussy made a mess of that face, huh? So messy for me, baby boy.”

“More,” he growls, licking at the glistening arousal you’ve left dripping on his face.

You shake your head and smile. “Hm, that’s right. We do have more left, don’t we? On your belly.”

Joel slams his head against the pillow in frustration. That clearly isn’t what he meant when he begged for more. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, and right before you can discipline him for not answering, he responds, “Yes, ma’am. We finished seven.” He rolls with a sigh onto his stomach and settles into position again, but not before you catch a glimpse of his aching cock.

You land five smacks in quick succession and nearly salivate at the recoil of his plump flesh against your strikes. You smooth your hand across the tender skin beneath. Joel grunts and counts out “eight.” His resignation to only count it as one makes your core tingle.

“You’ve done so good, I’ll let you count them individually,” you graciously offer.

“Yes, ma’am. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twel-”

Joel actually counting out each single slap had your folds slipping against each other with every movement, and you can’t resist landing a firm smack on the part of his ass you hadn’t smarted yet.

“NNGGGHHhhhh. THIRTEEN,” he barks into the pillow.

“That’s it. Doin’ so good. I know you can take more. I know you can take all of them for me, isn’t that right?”

His sharp exhales punctuate the little bubble you’ve created for the two of you. “Yes. Can take ‘em all for you, sweetheart,” he affirms.

“Your body was made for me to break down,” you assert. His breathing picks up with excitement and anticipation. “And, once I break you, Joel, I’m gonna put you back together how I want,” you purr in a muted lilt right next to his ear.

His broken whimper floats through the room like the white tufts of a dandelion in a calm breeze. “I-I want that, too,” he admits.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, completely losing all sense of focus when he’s so eager to please you and follow your rules.

“Doing so good, baby. Keep counting,” you soothe as you dole out the rest of his allotted swats.

He’s panting and sweating by the time you make it to eighteen, and you don’t have much more restraint left.

“Hands and knees,” you grit out. You controlled yourself from shoving your fingers inside your pussy at the sight of his red, welting flesh. He slowly pushes himself off the bed and rests on his palms and knees as you instructed.

You brush soft, wet kisses across the tender flesh of his ass, sucking and licking gently at the harsher marks. Your eyes roll back at the soft sigh he lets out. You let your wet tongue pad across his skin and dip against his hole. He jerks at the unexpected sensation, and you quickly swipe the slick between your folds and use it to glide your hand quickly up and down his cock. The sputtering gasp and moan he lets out almost breaks your resolve to not fuck him senseless.

You dart your tongue in and out of him as you feverishly work his aching cock, turning your wrist at the tip where you apply more pressure on each pass.

He’s trying to fuck himself into your fist with small movements, as though he’s trying not to get caught for doing so. That sort of behavior would land him in trouble in the future, but for today you are benevolent. He’s getting close, you can feel his body starting to shake and tremble more, and you want to see his face when he comes undone.

“On your back now,” you clip out. You shove him onto his back as he starts to turn around and obey your command. He thuds gently against the headboard and eagerly spreads his legs. You take him into your mouth with one motion, cradling and massaging his balls while your thumb works firm circles against his asshole.

He’s a whining, whimpering mess. You release him from your mouth only long enough to say, “You’ve been a good boy for me, Joel. You’re gonna come for me now. Come for me, baby. Let me have it.”

His scrunched brow and frown of overwhelming pleasure is something you wish you could remember in perfect detail for the rest of your life. He’s so beautiful like this, completely obliging to your every whim, sweaty curls sticking to his forehead, a total surrender of control to you.

You lock eyes and take him into your throat. A guttural moan shakes from his chest as he comes into your throat and mouth. You slowly work him up and down through his release. Little tears prickling at the edge of his eyes start to slither down his temples and cheeks. His devastating, euphoric release is all too much to hold anything back anymore.

You swallow some of his come as it shoots down your throat. The rest of it gets spit out in messy, frothy bubbles down his spent cock. You stroke his length a few times as he starts to soften, unable to resist your curiosity of what Joel looks like when you overstimulate him. His strained expression and high pitched moan are delicious.

“AGGHH. T-TOO MUCH. Fuck. Fuck. STOP. FUCK. TRIGGER. SOMETHING,” he rambles in a frenzy.

You released him halfway through his plea, picking up on his threshold being passed before he could verbalize it. He sighs and slumps against the headboard, shutting his eyes in a pained look of relief.

You scoot up and straddle him, wiping the mixture of all your fluids against the sheets, before drawing him into your arms. You gently comb your fingers through his hair and place a lazy trail of kisses along his forehead.

“You did so good, baby. How do you feel?” you ask softly.

He grabs you into a tight embrace, rolling you both sideways onto the bed. He nuzzles against your neck contentedly and mumbles, “Good. Feel good. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Anything for you, baby. Anything,” you whisper into his sweaty scalp.

After a few moments of holding each other and lazy kisses, you get up and find some towels, cleaning Joel off and then yourself. You bring him a small snack and a glass of water, and he makes short work of them both. He lets out a big exhale as he sinks back down into the mattress.

You sit between his legs, facing away from him, and his hands automatically rest on your waist in a feeling of comfortable, safe companionship. Joel’s breathing is beginning to slow into that telltale hazy thrum of dozing off.

When you start pressing firm, circular movements against his knee, he seems to stir again.

“What’re you doin’, sweetheart?” Joel mumbles in a half-sleep state.

“Massaging your knee where that asshole kicked you,” you grumble in irritation at the memory of raider fucking up Joel’s already fucked up knees.

You focus on smoothing across the muscle in even passes, pressing your thumb in small circular motions. Joel had trusted you with the gift of breaking him down, and you were going to show him the other side of that agreement where you built him back up again. Put the pieces back together so that it’s cohesive and strong and tended to. No fragments. No splintering. Just making him whole again.

“Mmmmm, feels s’good,” he slurs.

You methodically massage Joel’s entire body well past the point where he lay peacefully snoring, spread out across your bed in complete bliss.

Me, the entire time I was writing this:

plz lmk if there's anything in particular you'd like to see sub!Joel *~*~learn~*~*

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

#fic: a savage place #asp #sub!joel #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic

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toasty-melons · 2 years ago

Note

Uhm idk if your request are open so i Hope im not bothering you (also Sorry if my english isnt perfect ) i wanted to ask what about maybe ellie x fem!reader where they're Just Friends and ellie Is stressed out cause She doesnt know if Reader likes her back or not so dina being a good friend ( and Sick of ellie complaining about this situation) sets up a truth or dare night with ellie , dina , Jesse and reader and dina dares ellie to kiss reader and tell her how She feels and yk going on like this( its ok if you dont like this or dont want to do It <3)

You guys could never bother me!!! And I actually really love this request! I adore the friends to lovers trope so this is perfect! Also you’re english is really good so no worries, lovely! <3

TW: cursing, mentions of alcohol

I got kind of carried away but i really loved how it turned out, i hope you like it darling!

If you see any grammar errors ignore them pls :)

Just to kiss you

Ellie Williams x Reader

Ellie Williams has never, ever had trouble with the women she had an interest in. She always knew the perfect words to woo a women until they were buckling in the knees and falling to her feet. But you, oh god. You were her biggest weakness. You were so sweet and kind, and so fucking pretty.

So pretty that she usually had to pinch herself to get her stop staring at you.

So kind with the way you spoke to her, always asking if she’s okay and how her day was.

So sweet that you always put your friends first and were always doing nice things for them.

Like right now for example, you had invited her and Dina out to lunch, which you so kindly offered to pay for too. Dina, a sucker for free food, and Ellie, jumping at the chance to spend time with you.

The sun was warm on her skin, but when you had started laughing at one of Ellie’s stupid jokes, she felt like her whole body had lit on fire. God, you were so pretty. Ellie comes back down to Earth when she feels Dina playfully kick her under the table and give her a knowing look. Causing her face to slowly redden at the fact she had been caught being mesmerized by you.. again.

And what Dina does next would cause Ellie to practically combust with nervousness.

“So y/n..” Dina’s voice was cocky and made the hair on the back of Ellie’s neck stand up. You give Dina your full, undivided attention, smiling at her sweetly to let her know you’re listening. “Me, Ellie, and Jesse are hanging out at my place tonight, you wanna go?” Dina glances at Ellie, and her smug smile on grows at the slightly horrified look plastered on her face.

You’re lack of hesitation has Ellie melting in her seat. The way your eyes light up and your smile brightens as you vigorously nod your head yes.

“Yes! I would love too.” You look over at Ellie with that big smile on your face and Ellie can’t help the smile taking over on her own face. Your phone pings and when you check it, a pout of disappointment settles on your pretty lips. You look up at the two girls and your voice is laced with sadness. “I have to go guys, my boss asked me to come in early. But this was so much fun. I’ll see you guys later.” As you’re grabbing your things Dina is telling you when to be at her place and thanking you for lunch. You, of course, say it’s ‘no problem at all’. Dina gives Ellie a glance and motions her head at you, giving her the signal that it’s her turn to thank you.

Ellie quickly rushes to her feet as you’re coming around the table towards her. You reach out to her with open arms and Ellie gladly welcomes your embrace. You squeeze her tight as you usually do, and the way your perfume takes over Ellie’s senses has her knees buckling. “Thank you, y/n.” You giggle and she feels her heart melt at the pretty sound. You whisper back a ‘anytime, Els.’

Once you’re gone Ellie plops back down into her seat and Dina is looking at her with a smug smile and a snark comment already on the tip of her tongue. “Dude.” Ellie can tell by her tone that she’s gonna be relentless. “When, are you guys going to get together?” Ellie’s gaze finally tears away from the seat you had been sitting and glares daggers over at Dina.

“Well let’s see. Probably never. Because she doesn’t like me.” Ellie leans over and places her forehead on the table in defeat. A sad sigh escaping her lips, causing Dina to gently pat her on the back.

“I guess we’ll just have to see.” Ellie can practically hear the evil grin in Dina’s voice and Ellie can only pray that things go perfect tonight.

Ellie’s leg is bouncing as she sits in the middle of Dina’s couch next to Jesse. He nudges her leg with his knee and she breaks eye contact with the wall to look over at him. “You need to chill.” Ellie scoffs at this and rolls her eyes, now focusing on Dina who walks towards her with three beers balanced in her hands. Ellie gladly snatches the alcohol from her hands and not even a moment later is taking a swig.

You would be here any minute now. Ellie can feel her body start to warm up from the drink and it relaxes her a bit. A soft knock at the door has her whipping her head towards it and climbing over the back of the couch to rush over. Jesse scoff as Ellie’s alcohol is accidentally spilled on him, but chooses not to say anything other than a mumbled, ‘chill out.’

Ellie swings the door open and you’re standing there looking slightly up at her with your pretty eyes and a sweet smile gracing your lips.

“Hi.” It’s the only words Ellie can think of. She internally kicks herself for being awkward again. But the way your smile grows and your eyes slightly crinkle makes her stomach flip.

“Hi.” Your voice is sickly sweet and so soft on Ellie’s ears. Ellie finally takes a step back so that you can come in. As you walk past her to greet Dina and Jesse, your perfume washes over Ellie and she has to bite the inside of her lip to keep from audibly moaning and embarrassing herself.

Two hours and beers later has you and Ellie laughing your asses off at anything and everything. Ellie is relaxed so much that she’s able to talk to you with crumbling and placing little touches on your arm and leg without combusting. Of course Jesse and Dina are all too aware of what’s happening, which is what causes the slightly tipsy Dina to start a game of truth or dare.

After silly truths like ‘describe your first kiss,’ or ‘what’s the worst date you’ve ever been on,’ and stupid dares like ‘prank call your ex,’ or ‘swap clothes with the person next to you,’ it’s finally Dina’s turn again. The look in her eyes has Ellie practically shaking with nerves.

You’re all too unaware of it, not tipsy but bordering on the edge. You’re giggling at the way Jesse has been tugging on your shorts he was dared to wear. The way his clothes hang off your body has Ellie screaming internally, wishing that it was her clothes instead.

“Ellie.. truth or dare?.” Dina’s voice is laced with a smugness and Ellie knows no matter what she picks, it won’t be good. You perk up and point at her accusingly, excitedly announcing to the room that, ‘Ellie hasn’t done a dare yet.’ Dina grins wickedly and leans back into the couch, crossing her arms over her chest. “I dare you to kiss y/n.” The rooms falls silent as Dina’s words settle over. A tension slowly rising between everyone.

When Ellie glances over at you, she surprised to find your face completely flushed red and your wide eyes staring back at her. You glance down at her lips and it has Ellie practically foaming at the mouth. Before anyone can say anything the silence is broken by a phone ringing. Jesses curses under his breath and grabs the phone hopping up. How convenient.

“Shit. It’s my work, I gotta answer this.” He bails out of the room and after a few more moments of tense and awkward silence Dina stands up.

“I’m gonna go get another drink.” She leaves the room just as quickly as Jesse did and now it’s just Ellie and you. You and Ellie. Alone. When Ellie looks back over at you you’re not looking anymore and her heart sinks a bit. Not being able to stand the pressure anymore, Ellie stands up next and she feel your eyes on her again.

“I’m gonna.. get some fresh air.” Her voice is mumbled as she rushes out the side door that leads to Dina’s private patio. It’s small but it’s decorated in lights and plants that has a really warm and homey feeling to it. Ellie takes a seat in one of the chairs and places her head in her hands, elbows resting on her knees. Her heart hurts, she had her chance and she blew it. And for a moment, just a moment, Ellie thought you actually wanted to kiss her and it felt so euphoric.

The sound of the side door opening again has Ellie’s head popping up. She’s surprised to find you sitting down quietly next to her. You don’t look at her, not at first. No, at first you fiddle with your fingers, a nervous habit Ellie noticed you had. You thought you looked so silly right now, hell you felt ridiculous still drowning in Jesse’s clothes.

Neither of you say anything for a while, just allowing the silence to embrace both of you. You shift and Ellie glances at you again, and finds you finally looking at her. You break the silence first, clearing your throat quietly. Before you can say anything Ellie groans and rubs her hands over her face, “Fucking Dina.. always causing trouble.” This makes you giggle.

“She has good intentions.. just awful ways to show them.” At this Ellie gives you a sad chuckle. It makes your heart clench and your brows furrow.

“Kissing me would be awful, huh?” Your eyes widen at the realization and you shake your head frantically.

Ellie watches as your face reddens, a look of fear on your face, so scared that you had offended her. “Oh. No, no, no. It wouldn’t be awful it would be amazing- I mean.. oh gosh.” You cover your face and laugh awkwardly at yourself. Ellie is silent, still hanging onto a thread of hope.

“Ellie.. You’re one of my best friends. I really don’t wanna mess up what we have, but..” You uncover your face and chew on your bottom lip.

“But?” Ellie’s voice is so small, so full of hope that it makes you smile shyly.

“But.. I really really like you Els. And know you don’t like me back and i’m sorry if i’ve ever made you uncomfortable with my flirting, but today with the Dina and the dare to kiss me..” Ellie is stunned at your confession. She honestly feels like she’s dreaming. You like her? And you’ve flirted with her? How could she have not noticed?

“Can I kiss you? Not for the dare.. just to kiss you.” You peer up at her through your eyelashes, face full of nerves. You hesitate but you nod. Ellie leans in slowly, so close to your lips but not quite touching.

“Ellie Williams if this is a joke.. it’s the worst one you’ve ever had.” At your whispered words Ellie chuckles softly. Her lips are on yours not a moment later. The kiss isn’t sweet or soft like Ellie expected it to be. Instead your hands are tangled in her hair tugging her closer. Ellie’s hands find your waist to pull you onto her lap. Her fingers rubbing up your hips and thighs. She feels your breath tremble into the kiss and she pulls away.

“Too much?” You breathily laugh at her question and shake your head, placing sweet kisses along her jaw. Ellie is melting into your touch with the way your hands are sliding around down her neck and chest. You mumble a soft, ‘not enough,’ that has Ellie going feral.

Before Ellie can ravish your lips once again the sound of the side door slamming open has both of you looking over, frozen in place with widen eyes. Dina is standing in the doorway, jaw dropped and stunned.

“Oh.. my.. god..” You’re scrambling out of Ellie’s lap, standing up and shyly looking down. A grin is plastered on Ellie’s face and she can’t tear her gaze away from your shy one. “You guys we’re gonna fuck on my patio.” Ellie watches as you tense up at Dina’s accusation and shake your head waving your hands around you frantically.

You stumble over to Dina and grab her hands in yours. “Dinaaaa.” Your voice is whiney and it causes something deep to stir within Ellie. She can only watch as Dina teases you playfully and you protest with more whines of embarrassment.

“Y/n.” You’re whipping your head back at Ellie when she calls for you. Dina takes the hint and bails once again, shutting the door behind her.

“Yeah?” Ellie reaches out, grabbing your hand and pulling you down onto her lap once again. No other words are spoken as she pulls your lips back onto yours. This time the kiss being much softer than before, a vulnerableness laced into it. “Els.. i love you.”

“Fuck.. you have no idea how much i’m in love with you.”

#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams #elliewilliams #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x female reader #ellie x reader #ellie x you

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rosinbae · 1 year ago

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kitty kat ⋆ shen ricky

◜✧◞ SYNOPSIS ─ in which ricky realizes he might be in love with his best friend after all.

◜✧◞ PAIRING ─ shen ricky x male!reader

◜✧◞ GENRE ─ fluff.

"y/n my eye itches".

"stop moving or i'll accidentally poke you".

ricky scrunches his nose as y/n completely focuses on doing his eyeliner, ignoring his complaints which come up every two seconds.

"ricky i swear to god" y/n grits his teeth, biting his bottom lip. "i need you to stay still before you end up having ink in your eye".

"when you agreed to help me i didn't think you meant threaten me" ricky comments, and y/n rolls his eyes.

"your lucky" he states. "you have pretty eyes".

ricky resists the urge to blink, he can't because then y/n will kill him. "what does that have to do with anything?"

"they're perfectly shaped for this kind of thing".

"that's a pretty weird compliment.."

"take it or leave it kat".

that was the nickname y/n had given him when they were younger, stating that ricky was pretty much identical to a cat. no one really got the nickname, since ricky only allowed y/n to call him that, it was like their little thing.

ricky would never admit that he liked seeing y/n up close much more than he realized, with y/n's focus on doing his eyeliner, he could simply stare right at him and it wouldn't be weird.

"what if my mom thinks i look bad?" ricky decides to ask randomly. y/n narrows his eyes, but simply hums as a small laugh escapes his lips.

"you never look bad" he responds honestly, finally moving away from ricky as he finishes. "there, you're done" he says, but ricky still doesn't blink, afraid.

"you can blink kat, it's okay".

ricky immediately blinks, resisting the urge to rub his eyes because he knows it'll possibly mess up what y/n just spend thirty minutes doing. "see? you look pretty, told you".

ricky feels his face heat up, which is weird because y/n compliments him all the time. he just feels.. different towards all the nice words y/n keeps saying.

am i going insane? why is my temperature rising? and my heart beating faster? he just called you pretty ricky what are you going on about—

"hello? earth to ricky?" y/n snaps his fingers, handing ricky a cup of strawberry milk. "what are you thinking about? the event?" he inquires, not knowing that he was the one running through ricky's mind as he takes a sip of his iced coffee.

"um.." ricky pauses, not knowing if he should tell him the truth or lie. he chose lie. "just— a lot".

"no need to worry, kat" y/n says, smiling at ricky but staring for a specifically long time. "you don't even have to do much, your mom's doing all the talking anyway".

"i know i'm just.. thinking".

"maybe you should think a little less" y/n states, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "focus on me, i have to take you out after the event anyway".

holy mother of god—

ricky felt like he was gonna combust. how could y/n just say that so casually not knowing how much of an affect such words had on ricky? he felt like he should've exploded by any minute now.

"fine, since you want my attention so bad" ricky mutters, not knowing why he felt so embarrassed.

"i don't want it i need it" y/n says with sarcasm in his voice once again, before ricky can even respond to such words, y/n took his wrist and dragged him out of the room.

"uh, y/n? where are we going?"

"i'm gonna take you to the event silly! i'm the only one of us that can drive!"

as ricky stares at y/n, doing the simplest of things, he can't help but just.. admire him, he looks so endearing even though he's doing something as simple as finding his car keys.

ricky's eyes go wide as he realizes.

oh shit, i'm in love with him.

now it all makes sense.

#shen quanrui #zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 ricky #zb1 imagines #ricky shen x reader #ricky imagines #zb1 drabbles #zb1 scenarios

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topgunruinedme · 5 months ago

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Slow Ride

Summery:

The younger man huffed gently biting his lower lip and purred, the soft worlds rolling off his lips in a way that should not have felt as attractive as they were. “Now dear, what is a pretty little thing like you doing in here hiding behind a desk” he pouted gently, “You’re robbing everyone the chance to get an eyeful” his eyes dragged down in a purposefully slow heavy motion “And i would very much like one”. He blinked. Then again. Throat clicking as the pen clattered to the desk from his lax fingers in surprise as he took in the younger man infront of him. Black hair, sharp green eyes, a libido bigger than an entire continent and a cocky attitude? “Maverick?”

In which Iceman get de-aged and decide to terrorise Cyclone, lover style.

Rule one. Don't date your coworkers.

Rule two. If you have a painful life altering crush on said rumoured married coworker, don’t make it obvious.

These were rules he abided by. Something he created when he first walked into his first Top Gun class and realized that his teacher was not only The Iceman, but that he would spend the next four weeks coming toe-to-toe with him in the air being pushed to his limits both physically, mentally, and consciously. He has never had to express as much self-control as he did in those four weeks of his career with the sheer amount of effort it took not to leer, drool, or make an idiot of himself, and in fact if it hadn't been for his Rio, Solomon, he probably would have combusted into a flustered ball and be working as a Starbucks barista by now. Instead he was now a respected Admiral who had meetings on monthly bases with said crush, which only grew over the years as the man's hair turned grey as they both aged. Not that the fact they were both older had anything to do with how flustered the man still made him when the man caught him off guard with a lewd comment. He had seen the man shark-like grin far too many times then he would like to count to believe it was truely accidental or innocent, the man had leaned over at inopportune times of important meeting to 'compare notes' just for an excuse to get closer so he could startled him with an inappropriate joke that made his ears tip turn pink.

But the man must like him a little bit because out of anyone in the Navy he was the one that Ice has dumped his rugrat of a husband on him, despite knowing fully well of his opinion or lack of on the man.

Where Iceman was serious and controlled at times he was also kind and packed a dry sense of rumor. Talking to him could feel like standing infront of your boss knowing you just fucked up and were getting the arse-cewing of your life or fired, or it could feel like a friend you havn’t seen in a while that your catching up with. A man who you could come to with an issue and Ice would sit across from you and help you find a solution.

Then there was Maverick. And he was well…a maverick. Impulsive, dangerous, insubordinate. The man was brash, loyal to a heart, but a danger to the Navy in everything except the air. He was passionate and precise and all his risks were deadly but they only ever usually endangered himself. He was infuriating. Arrogant. And the dick held a damn grudge longer than he's seen anyone and it's hilarious to see how quickly the man can get under Cain's skin. But he didn't trust him as far as he could throw him.

The man may have somehow tricked the Iceman, Thomas Kazansky, top of his class, valedictorian, first place winner of Top Gun and the Commander of the Pacific Fleet to marry him- supposedly because he never did really get a confirmation .

But he wasn't going to allow himself to fall for that innocent woe look at me act Maverick threw at him, no matter how often the man gave his coy looks or batted his eyelashes. He wasn't going to fold god dammit. He refused to be manipulated. He was stronger than Iceman.

It was difficult enough seeing Iceman on a monthly basis finally settling into a nice lull of work and play when Maverick was thrown at him. Now his days revolved around completing extra paperwork Maverick produced and periodically checking around base to make sure nothing was on fire and that there's been no subtraction or addition to the daggers since his last check 15 minutes ago.

Turns out Iceman failed to mention in his handover the fact that Mitchell had a terrible case of adopting everything that walks. He was 90% sure he had at least one more medical team then what he started with, and at least half a engineering department swarming his tarmac that he was absolutely sure he never approved transfer forms for.

Maverick was going to give him an ulcer at this point, the slightest thought of Maverick wandering around unsupervised gave him enough anxiety to sink a carrier.

Normally he would be able to push past it, drag his feet until the end of the day then collapse in his off base housing and limit himself to a much needed drink before forcing himself to finish of whatever work he had left after fixing whatever demographic issue Maverick caused for the day before passing out and doing it all over again the next day.

However it seemed like nothing was going his way today. 15 years running and he’s never fucked up this badly before:

Rule one, don’t date your coworkers. Ticked and signed. There wasn't exactly a great looking pool to begin with in the Navy besides a select few who were either Married or were certain to cause a scandal at some point and other then that he hadn’t been in the dating pool for at least seven years after the messy divorce with his wife Clarence.

Rule two, don’t be obvious. Considering he’s spending most of his time doing damage control and holding his head above the water during Kazansky personal calls he could confidently say he was rocking that one.

So why had his world quite literally been demolished around him in a violent tornado in the shape of a familiar green eyed pilot?

It had been fine, until it hadn't been. He had managed to arrive earlier than expected on base and took time to enjoy a cup of coffee without any of his kids rushing around yelling that they would be late to school, or telling him about school projects due two hours later. He had managed to conquer a pile of documents that’s been sitting on his desk for the last week by 10:30, suffering through a financial meeting (mostly about Mavericks plane allowance) until 11:45 before tragedy struck.

He had been poring over some reports when the door to his office opened and someone made a pleased noise, stepping into the office without a care in the world.

His gaze jumped up to meet the sharp green eyes of towards the door reprimand already on his lips to tear the lieutenant barging into his office a new one, the rebuke on the end of his tongue stilled, barbs settling back into his own throat at the sight of a younger man; early twenties, black hair messed up as if the man had tried to hand comb it. The man swaggered forward with an easy grin. His green eyes shamelessly dragging down his body, seemingly confident. The man’s uniform sat tight around his chest and shoulders as if it was fitted to him, he dragged his eyes towards the man's shoulder flicking over the rank; Captain .

The rank screamed at him from the man's shoulder, a rank far too advanced for someone his age.

The man seemed immensely pleased at catching him in a rare moment alone approaching the desk boldly completely bypassing the seats that were placed specifically in front of the desk in such a particular way that it was supposed to dissuade people from the idea of approaching. The man placed his palms on the desk leaning forward getting in his face forcing him to lean backwards slightly as he narrowed his eyes at the intruder who looked him up and down openelly leering at him.

What. the. Fuck.

The man's biceps flexed from where he was holding himself and the tight fabric around his arms did not help the body appeal it gave him, the attractive way the man made each movement with almost a lingering seductive air around him, peering at him through half lids a sultry grin on his lips eyes dropping down to take in his half bent form over the desk where he had been working, frozen as he had watched the man approached with an air of disbelief idly wondering if he needed to get a physiological check or if he just finally had a mental break. His fingers twitched, itching to get the bottle of whiskey from his bottom desk drawer and skull it as an excuse to get away from whatever this was…

The younger man huffed gently biting his lower lip as purred, the soft worlds rolling off his lips in a way that felt as attractive as they were. “Now dear, what is a pretty little thing like you doing in here hiding behind a desk” he pouted gently “You’re robbing everyone the chance to get an eyeful” his eyes dragged down in a purposefully slow heavy motion “And i would very much like one”.

He blinked. Then again. Throat clicking as the pen clattered to the desk from his lax fingers in surprise as he took in the younger man infront of him. Black hair, sharp green eyes, a libido bigger than an entire continent and a cocky attitude?

“Maverick?”

“That's my name sweetheart, don't wear it out” the man's grin widened, “That is unless you want to scream it for me”.

What. the. Fuck.

Maverick. Mav. Famed aviator. Maverick Mitchell. Captain Mitchell.

How did this happen? What didn't he know anything about this? Maverick was an instructor under his care, a man he had under 24/7 surveillance via Hondo (although now he was questioning where the man's loyalties truly laid) he should be receiving reports by the hour. His instructor who had previously been only 5 years older than himself, only two years apart from competing at Top Gun, suddenly becoming a 20 something year old seemed like a pretty major security risk that he would have assumed he would have been informed about the very moment it happened.

He was honestly astounded that the man hadn't already been collected by his wingman and shipped over state lines until the man figured out how this happened.

“Cat get your tongue darling? Don't worry, I can lend you mine”.

His breath caught in his throat and his chest stuttered as Maverick moved shamelessly closer, stalking around the desk. Oh fuck . He pushed his chair back from the desk as the younger man grew closer in an attempt to put space between them, Maverick gave him an amused tilt of his head but instead of be-lining for him like he had been afraid of, he perched his perky arse on the edge of his desk in front of him before lifting himself up onto it effortlessly.

This was insane. Was Maverick seriously coming onto him right now?

That was a dumb question. This was Maverick. The resident little shit who lived to make his life difficult. A man who would stand in front of him waiting until he finished chewing him out to offer to get them some off base coffee while they go through lesson plans with a small sly smile, the same smile that greeted him on the slightly younger version of himself, only this time it was paired with something much more dangerous. The man gave him a knowing smile as he spread his legs, fabric stretching and clinging to the man's thick muscular thighs putting them on display wantonly. His breath shuttered in response as he swallowed down the lust that tried to rise at the very willing younger man flaunting his body in front of him.

He was his subordinate. His aviador.

He was his boss’s partner.

He was… Maverick.

He was young. Far younger than he had been when he saw him yesterday afternoon standing in this very room where he had been staring past him at the notch in the wall until he had been red in the face yelling at the man for another flyby.

He was Icemans. His partner, his wingman, his husband. At least that's what he thought he was, no normal friends bickered like an old couple argued quite like they did.

He swallowed thickly, eyes drawn back to the strong thighs before him, eyes trailing over the inner seam of the man's trousers that looked stretched like they were struggling to uphold their duty. Maybe he wasn't stronger than Iceman after all.

Maverick ignored his inner turmoil giving him an easy smile that bloomed attractively on his face and the smug tilt to it meant he clearly knew what he was doing, using his body to his advantage to get what he wanted as he proceeded to fluster him. He swallowed stepping back trying to put more distance between them only for a tight grip to wrap around his wrist roughly tugging him forward, he stumbled slightly as the grip yanked him closer until he ended up between the man's spread thighs barley a hair away from grabbing the man's thighs and feeling the muscle beneigh the fabric twitch in anticipation. Maverick tilted his head back, chin jutting forward as he revealed the milky white throat clear of any marks as he gave him a sly look from where he was practically under him.

“Running away sweetheart? Well I do like a good chase…”

His hand darted to the one around his wrist as he dug his nails into his own skin ignoring the pinch as he tried to wrench the man's fingers from his skin, it was useless, his grip was tight and it seemed as if nothing would separate them other than the own man's will.

“Captain, release me” he warned slowly tugging on the man's wrist again only growing more frustrated as the man's grip tightened.

Maverick rested back at ease, hardly blinking at their positioning. “And let a catch like you go? No chance,” the man snorted “I gotta get you before Ice sinks his teeth into you and trust me,” the man bit his lips “He likes to bite”.

He blanched slightly, body jerking at the comment and his mind blanked temporarily. Holy fuck, he was learning far too much about his boss’s sexual relationships, and he had no interest in whatever bet these two had going. Even if it did end up with him wedged between them pinned by Maverick’s gaze and hands trailing down his body while Ice curled around his back hand pressed against his stomach obsessively as he trailed bites down his neck-

His dick twitched against his thigh. Right, shit. Young Maverick. Maverick was still propositioning him. He had to fix this, and quickly, before Iceman stormed in and demanded what he did to his precious wingman. He'd rather live.

“He always did love to get carnage knowledge, it was his specialty you see. In clubs, on base, it gave him some sort of thrill, and well…I can't say it doesn't do the same for me” Maverick’s thumb brushed against his wrist no doubt feeling the way his pulse jumped the man's lips pulled tighter amusement shining in them, “I have no doubt Mr goodie-two-shoes has his eyes on you because damn . He'd be a fool not too”.

“Captain-”

“Yes Admiral?” the little shit purred, his leer intensifying as his foot brushed against his outer thigh and it almost made him jump out of his skin. Maverick made a noise of interest, his gaze jumping to his throat watching it jump, “Don't tell me you're a goodie-two-shoes too, a rule sticker. Do I need to corrupt you sweetheart?” His foot brushed against him again this time higher as the man tugged him closer they bumped together the thin wood of the desk barley separating them as Maverick - surprisingly flexible - hiked his leg up on his hip, heel pressing into his lower back no doubt wrinkling his uniform as he tugged him closer trying to fuse them together.

He gritted his teeth, “Captain Mitchell, this is inappropriate behavior-”

“Dont tell me your a virgin” the man sounded delighted, “Never fucked at work before, dear lord I tell you that was the first thing Ice does when he’s promoted-” fuck now thats the only thing hes ever going to remember when he goes to report to the man “-I think we've had more sex in those offices then he's done work in them” Maverick cackled. “Come on Admiral, let loose have some fun” the man's lips brushed against his ear “Help me desecrate the office”.

Maverick's sly look glanced down slightly as he tilted his neck back stretching up towards his breath brushing against his own mingling with halted anticipation that he had half the mind to endure. There was a brief moment of hesitation on his part when he registered a commotion just before the door to his office slammed open, suddenly offering him a brief chance to drag himself out of the enchanting spell he had found himself entrapped in. Taking the chance of Maverick’s surprise to yank himself away from the man, barely getting the chance to put more than a foot of space between them, still held captivated from the man's grip on his wrist which didn't seem to be releasing anytime soon. He felt the man's pulse beneigh his fingertips, the way it raced almost kissing against the soft skin of his wrist as a group of aviators stumbled into his office.

“Admiral-”

“-Cyclone-”

“-Have you seen-”

“Oh”

He swallowed. “Does no one know how to knock these days?” While his voice was miraculously somewhat steady, he still sent the daggers a semi-panicked stare peering at them from over Maverick’s shoulder. They looked ruffled, clearly having tried their hand at babysitting the man but what threw him for a loop was the tall blond standing proudly beside them, carefully put together, from his sharp blue eyes to the frosted tips and the famous cold expression of a very unimpressed Iceman staring him down.

Oh double fuck .

Admiral Kazansky stared down at him equally as young, perhaps a few years older than his counterpart and just as equally attractive. Two of his lifelong crushes in a room together looking absolutely delectable.

Dear lord, why was Iceman staring at him like he was a piece of meat being fed to a starving carnivore, like a prey to a ravenous lion, a prey to be hunted.

His eyes flickered back to the daggers in the doorway. The small group looked haggard. Trace looked irritated; her hair had been pulled out of its bun into a hasty ponytail that had a few stray strands carded down her neck. Garcia appeared nervous peering over the woman's shoulder unlike the others he was still in uniform, his khakis pressed as if he had never made it to the locker room. Despite his put together appearance he still looked as if he felt out of place, switching from foot to foot. Meanwhile Seresin stood before them, as if he was the leader of their segment, they looked as if they had spent the morning running around looking for the very man who held him in his clutches. Seresin ran his hand through his hair looking far too exacerbated than he should at this hour of the day, his flight suit was wrapped messily around his waist, a writing pad wedged between the man's hip and suit as if he had been preparing for today's lesson. The man sighed heavily, meeting his gaze tiredly almost agreeing with his silent hysteria “Yeah…it's been a long morning sir”.

He allowed for a strangled noise to leave his lips as he glanced between the two seductive men. Maverick had left his perch to lean back on his palm shifting further on the desk, spreading out in a more revealing stance than he was previously. His thighs still spread, almost invitingly, the new position placed all his weight on his bicep putting stress on his chest as the man shamelessly pressed his chest out encouraging him to look. Throwing him a slightly sly look before tilting his head back lazily with an easy grin as he caught the gaze of his friend. “Hey Ice”.

“Trouble” Ice murmured giving him a fond look as he stepped forward approaching the otherside of the desk allowing Maverick to almost lean on him as he placed his own palms on the desk almost perfectly mirroring Maverick mere moments ago. “I left you alone for two seconds and you're already chasing tail” the man teased gently a gentle look appearing as he looked down at the man hovering over Maverick with no hesitation but rather with ease as if this was common practice between the two, the lack of personal boundaries and the ability to touch freely.

Ice lifted a hand and it curled around the back of the smaller man's neck tugging him further backwards, fingers curling in the man's hair causing a half groaned moan to slip passed Maverick’s lips as his head was tilted backwards and Ice claimed his lips in a possessive kiss; the stunning blue eyes engulfed in a passionate possessiveness that targeted his own and failed to detach almost screaming at him to make a move, to challenge them, as Ice forced him to watch as he staked his firm claim.

Without any further prompting Maverick sank into Ice’s arms with a happy noise, the two man seemed to ignore the world around them as mav leaned further in an attempt to form into the man who cradled him in his palms without giving an inch to releasing his own grip on his wrist refusing to yield demanding both of their attention as he attempted to press further into his partners hold. Ice fingers wrapped around the man's hair tighter with a visible fervid need as he pressed his lips against the other man's tighter releasing his own soft noise of content as he felt Maverick submit under him giving him his body to his will. Ice pulled away and Mav chased him unashamed as he whined out in protest as he stretched in an attempt to recapture the man's lips as he panted, Ice lips tipped up in amusement but refused to allow the man to remount his lips. Mav pouted, rolling his eyes at the man’s antics as if he knew exactly what the man’s show was for, but any lingering irritation he had with the man quickly faded as he gave Ice a giddy smile in response to his affection, “Gotta get a head start somewhere”.

“So you admit I'm the better pilot?” Ice murmured eyes lingering on the man eyes trailing over him appreciatively as if tracing the familiar lines of the man's body cataloging them for later to recall of the fondest of times.

Maverick snorted, clearly still absorbed in their own world, similarly trapped within Iceman's siren call as he had been with Maverick, unable to pull away far too enchanted by the man’s appeal. Ice tilted his head lightly still cradling the man gently as Maverick stared up at him with a soft grin probing him, “In your dreams. I just admit that while you can get them to fall at your feet, I need to butter them up a little”.

Iceman hummed slightly, gaze breaking away from his lovers and zeroed in on his dragging it up latches onto his almost studying him. It made his skin prick, almost like a scalpel running over his skin in careful precise slices waiting for him to bleed out.

“Admiral Kaznasky” he greeted roughly under the man's perusal, trying to resist the urge to salute. The man’s cutting gaze never left his own as the man's eyes trailed over him; taking in his uniform, the slight stain on his finger from the pen, and the way he held himself stiffly at the desk. His hand flexed when he realized the man focused on how he was practically between his wingman's legs which were still seductively spread and he felt the urge to step away. Like far away, a different content maybe.

“Simpson” Iceman drawled dryly.

Maverick let out an unhappy noise clearly annoyed with the lack of attention as he sat up pulling away from Iceman’s grip as he reached out towards him with his now remaining free hand. He stiffened when fingers wrapped around his chin tugging him forward and he had to place a hand on the desk beside the man to prevent himself from stumbling as Maverick forced his gaze back onto him. Intense heavy gaze bleeding into his giving him a stern frown voice dark with disapproval “Come back here darling, I wasn't done talking to you”.

He swallowed thickly, very aware of the stare of everyone in the room. The feeling of drowning under being displayed so humiliatingly in front of his lieutenants as well as the suffocating feeling of Iceman. As well as the man's partner who he watched shamelessly flirting with him. He almost wanted to close his eyes and wait for the man to swing his executioner's axe. He raised his hand coming up to the man's wrist pressing his thumb into the ligament just between the radius and ulna under the wrist until the man hissed slightly and released his grip. “Get him out of here, and for fuck sakes keep an eye on them” he croaked suddenly all too overwhelmed with the situation, trying to escape from whatever the fuck was happening.

Maverick's expression twisted into a playful pout as Iceman's arm dropped to wrap around the man's waist snaking around his slim middle and pulled him backwards into Iceman’s chest no longer restricted by grip or trapped between them. Mavericks back pressed against Ice’s chest as he stepped backwards dragging the troublesome man elegantly of the desk in one swift movement lifting the man with ease arm straining the fabric of the mans blue uniform tightened around the mans delicious biceps before he set the man back on his feet by his side his arm refusing to leave its possessive hold. Maverick let out a brief sound of protest grumbling as he shot Ice an unhappy look at his spoils of fun being ruined.

“Where do you want us to take them sir?” Trace asked, leaning around Seresin looking as if she was already planning out some sort of plan. Thank god at least one of them had a plan.

He ran a stressed hand down his face “I don't know! Anywhere but here!” He could hear the growing hysteria in his voice now, Iceman's brows furrowed slightly and Maverick whining stopped as he peered up at him with growing concern. “Just keep them on base. Stick them in a dorm room or something just watch them”.

“Sir-” Seresin gave him an weary look, breaking parade rest to step closer, “Are you alright?”

“Do i look alright” he snarled, “Im half conviced im having a psychotic break so get the fuck out of my office before I demote all of your arse for keeping this massive security risk a secret and deport you an active warzone and shot you out of the sky myself!”

“Yes sir!” Seresin saluted his concern lingering but the man fell back into a parade rest turning to address the two other men in the room motioning for them to follow. Iceman tugged a reluctant Maverick out of the office guiding him out under his arm with a low warning “Mav” when the smaller man attempted to argue his way out of it. Seresin moved quickly falling into line behind them as Trace and Gracia guide the men down the hall keeping them in a strict weapons envelope in an attempt to prevent the men from escaping again.

He barely had the time to wheel the chair back under him as he collapsed into it, he let out a groan of distress as his head fell into his hands. He attempted to muffle himself as he let out a scream of distress which he was sure could still be heard down the hall despite his best efforts. He gave himself a moment to wallow in stress, his shoulders shook momentarily as he felt the weight of his new days worth of issues to suffer from. He inhaled holding it for a few moments before exhaling shakily trying to collect himself as he swallowed leaning back as he rolled his chair back under the desk casting his eye over the office that looked as if nothing amiss had happened as he reached for the phone on the desk holding the weight of the receiver in his palm, it felt ill weighted, but perhaps that was just his shock taking hold of him. The line rang briefly before it clicked signifying it had connected to the desk just outside his door to his secretary who had been the original cause of the commotion to begin with.

“Admiral Simpson?” Thomas' amused smile could be heard in his voice.

“Would you summon Solomon for me?” he let out a weary sigh as he drawl off a list of precious tasks he knew without a doubt the young man would have already started compiling ideas for. “Cancel my meetings for the next week and for fuck sakes could you do some damage control and ensure no one sees Kaznaky and Mitchel”.

“Already done sir,” Thomas tittered shortly before adding, “There is also a food order set to arrive in the next 10 minutes for you both and I've already started sending out emails explaining the visit of two new recruits”.

He huffed at the man's amusement “I’m going to ignore the fact you’re taking pleasure in my pain” he pointed out, then smiled genuinely “Have I told you how much I love you Tom?”

The man laughed “Every day, sir”. Thomas' voice seemed to hitch slightly as the receiver shifted “Although I believe you are declaring your love to the wrong Tom, sir” the man teased.

The line clicked disconnecting before he could answer and he placed the phone back down on its holder with a poorly suppressed sigh. God that man was a handful but he wouldn't be able to survive day to day in this job without him. He just knew that Sol would end up gossiping with him later no doubt already on his way to bully the details of the two men unknowingly acting out one of his very chest held sexual fantasies out of him.

Why did he put up with Mitchell again? After all, he wouldn't be in this mess if Iceman hadn’t decided to test his patience. Where on earth had he gone wrong?

And after all his effort, all 15 years of it. It turns out, he wasn’t stronger than Iceman after all.

He had two rules. Two very simple rules. However it appeared that however young or old both men of his desires had decided to say fuck the rules and seem quite insistant with their intent on dragging him with them to whatever sin they rested their heads upon at night.

It appears he needed to implement a third rule; need not further the previous two rules may not apply if it involves Maverick Mitchell nor Thomas Kazansky.

He sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose, staring wearily at the door of his office waiting for it to burst open this time a welcome intrusion by the hand of his best friend, as the trail of Iceman’s arm still tingles across his skin and the feel of Mavericks fingertips on his jaw bloomed with heat that he had sworn was not there previously.

The Navy specifically prohibits any pursuing of relationships within the ranks. In reality if he was in any other situation with both man in somewhat older states he should be reporting the fraternization, frankly he was partly impressed Mitchell managed to marry up but if anyone could snarl Iceman’s attention it would be his wayward wingman, on the other hand this was highly classified especially since he had to somehow explain the sudden absence of the COMPACFLT.

The rules were clear, he was to report the relationship at once. The ghost feel of Mavericks thighs brushing against his hips caused him to curl his hand around the arm of his chair as his gaze dropped to the desk and he could swear he could almost see that passionate kiss again right before his eyes as well as the cold and calculated challenging eyes staring back at him.

Go ahead , they dared him. Try it.

Well he only had one thing to say after 23 years of faithful service.

Fuck the Navy.

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