#john krasinski x reader

[nouearth]

candy-wasted.

john krasinski x male reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. with halloween coming to a disappointing end, what's a better way to end the holiday than to get candy-wasted on john's offer of his king-sized candy bar?

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. one-shot [ 6.7k ].

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. male reader 〳 domestic!au 〳 halloween!au 〳 husband!john 〳 established relationship 〳 kissing 〳 sexual content: top!john, bottom!reader, anal penetration, rough!sex, no prep, breeding, spitting, blowjob (r!giving), pain kink, slapping, spanking, armpit fetish, humiliation, degradation, body worship, cock worship, over-stimulation, extremely hung!john.

“Think that might be the last of ‘em,” John said, shutting the front door and turning off the porch light. “Not a single Lydia Deetz, Ennui, Deadpool, or Wolverine costume in sight.”

It was Halloween night.

Declaring Halloween as your favorite holiday would be unjust to the true fanatics. More than anything, you loved the celebration for the atmosphere. You loved the smell of autumn coming into full bloom by virtue of artificial cinnamon and apple in soy candles rather than the fresh leaves withering outside. You loved driving by neighborhoods to see all the houses that had been decorated, fictionalizing a house-decorating competition in the process. You loved how spooky TV would get, from horror movies to reruns of old sitcom episodes that had a Halloween theme.

Most important of all, you loved taking your kids out to trick or treat with John, watching them outgrow their costumes every year and growing teary-eyed at the likelihood that they’d eventually stop having you and John come along with them in favor of their friends.

Even though you mentally prepared yourself for the moment, you weren’t expecting this year to be the time where your son and daughter would tell you that they would be sleeping over at a friend’s for the celebration. As if there was any option for you and John to protest too, it suddenly struck you how quickly they were becoming their own person, because they had already packed their bags the night before.

But also—damn you, for raising them to be so direct.

When John returned back to the couch, you glanced at the bowl.

“Do kids these days not go trick-or-treating anymore? We’re doing less refills than usual,” You took the half-empty bowl from him and rummaged through the assorted candy bars. “When I was a kid, I used to circle my neighborhood multiple times because I was determined to not end the night with a barren bucket. I also knew my parents would steal from my stash whenever I was asleep, so that was another incentive to prolong the pain in my little kid legs.”

You knew you were babbling and were beyond caring. From the smile John gave you, he seemed more entertained by the endless vault of childhood stories than the horror marathon you two had started since six o’clock in the evening.

“All those candy runs seem to be paying off considering your calves are the size of bowling balls,” John laughed, arranging your legs to lay them across his lap as you resumed lounging. To prove his point, he began unzipping your costume’s pant leg one-by-one, ventilating your ankles and calves finally free from the tight spandex.

You breathed a sigh of relief when the draft in the air chilled the sweat on your skin, then another, when John’s large hands began stroking and kneading at your legs. You probably should have guessed that John had other intentions in mind since his hands only traveled north, in which your calves were nowhere to be found.

But what would be the fun in calling out your lover’s extremely apparent advances? For a brief moment, you two sat in silence, putting the TV on mute because the marathon had run its course, but also to hear the sound of John’s hands, calloused, warm, and large over the plane of your body, exploring you and the ribbed costume like he was learning texture for the first time.

It had been quite a long time since it was this quiet in the house. You had to have accidentally said it out loud, or John’s telepathic abilities were only awakened on Halloween night, because he was looking at you like you had whet his appetite, hazel eyes cataloguing your body like it was a dirty magazine, lips bitten in secrecy.

“What’s on your mind, Captain America?” You let your legs wrap around John’s waist when he pulled you to sit on his lap, fixing his tousled hair with a smooth swoop of your hand, and affectionately squeezed his large shoulders after.

God, John filled out his costume so well. No wonder you couldn’t stop glancing at him throughout the night, the tactical suit made him look much larger and imposing—you couldn’t help but run your hands all over his body and his tight muscles beneath the fabric, the contoured lines of the costume was practically inviting you to do so.

“I’m thinking… the neighborhood is quiet. I’m thinking that the kids are preparing for bed, and that the parents are drunk off their children’s candy stash, which means you can finally take it easy for tonight, Spider-Man.” John’s smile was terribly broad. You could feel him fiddling with the pull tab on the back of your costume with one hand while the other was caressing the side of your thigh, nearing dangerously closer to your rump.

It was a cheap costume that ran for no more than forty bucks, which meant you could feel the heat radiating off of John’s palm.

“Take it easy? I’ve been taking it easy. I got my popcorn, some king-sized candy bars, a scary flick, a rather inquisitive man holding me…” You shivered when his hand paused on your right buttock and squeezed. “Nothing’s beating this right now.”

He began kissing your neck, his beard ticklish and feathery over your flesh. “Really? Nothing at all?” Both of his hands were on your rump now, massaging tenderly at the handful of thick flesh in his palms.

You must have indulged in the warmth and strength of John’s grip on you for far too long, because out of the blue, he began knocking the silence out of you with strong smacks to your ass, drawing out a collection of moans and grunts from you as he fixated on marking up your neck until your mouth was in vicinity.

When his strong palms came down onto your cheeks again, your lips parted at the right moment he would seize them, capturing your mouth for a slow, languid kiss. John’s lips tasted like a celebration. You could feel the crumbs of sugar from the fruit ropes he was eating prior roll off his lips and onto your tongue, flavoring the kiss of green apple. You moaned, gently holding at both ends of his jaw, while your hips grew conscious of how your body was reacting to John’s tongue invading your mouth, pressing your growing tent against his pelvis with slow rolls, pushing your ass out to meet his hands.

“Nothing at all, unless…” You groaned when the stinging over your covered ass was only heightened by the unrelenting grasp John had on your ample skin. If he wasn’t so busy tonguing your mouth open, you wouldn’t be surprised to find him tearing your costume into two within the next second. “You have something to bestow upon me?”

“Ever heard of a monster-sized candy bar? I got one that’s filled with vanilla cream for you, specifically curated to your taste buds. What do you think? I’ll trade ya’.” The spirit of Halloween affected him as he laughed into the kiss, the tip of his nose crinkling in effect and swiping over yours when he resumed in exploring your mouth.

“I think it sounds like a trick, you a con-man?” You lightly pushed at his chest to break from the kiss, then lingered to silently admire his well-built pecs. You weren’t sure if you were more turned on by John’s hard-work and dedication, or the fantasy of him as a superhero—saving you from your ultimate demise.

Regardless, your hips only rutted harder, swooping low to brush your erection against his, then raising them high, to grind your rump over his arousal.

“Keep moving your hips like that, and you’ll find the answer soon.”

An inquisitive hand of yours reached in between John’s thighs. It didn’t take long, hardly a millisecond, to find what you’d been searching for.

The mass in your palm was overwhelmingly large and thick. You felt your throat go dry when the weight of John’s bulge was heavy enough to unfurl itself within his suit, across his right thigh, and reach to a point of hardness where one hand of yours found it impossible to tame it alone.

You stroked the enormous print, focusing on the apparent head with your thumb, and then squeezed. Hard.

“Fuck, (M/N). Upstairs, now.”

As you sat on your knees, the scent of arousal filled your nostril. There was something enthralling about this position, being bare and naked on the carpet, while you were looking up at John’s hard cock through your lashes. He was already monstrous enough, but the angle from below provided insight just exactly how jaw-dropping his size was.

“I’m sorry I doubted you, Captain. What would you like in exchange?” Bracing your hands on his strong calves, you nuzzled the underside of his erection. You sucked in a breath at the smell of it. The heat and musk built from a long day of work, finally released out into the air, tickled your nose pleasantly and made your mouth water. “‘Three musketeers?’ ‘Butterfingers?’ ‘Hershey’s?’” You slapped his heavy cock over your lips, mouthing over the tender spots of his glans.

He had his arms behind his head, exhaling slow and steady, sporting an expression that told you he was the luckiest man alive, not that you needed that affirmation, as you held his cock tight around the base and suckled at the plump, pink tip. “How about ‘(M/N)’s Pieces?’ Yeah? Is that up for grabs?”

You could feel his hairy thighs tense up when you taunted him with the tiniest licks over his heavy, full balls. It was amusing, watching his cock jolt over your face—like they were envious of such half-hearted actions.

“You mean, the candy that would make a kind and handsome dad, such as yourself, turn into a ferocious beast of a man?” Holding John’s lustful gaze, you took a long and slow lick at the underside of his shaft, the girth of it thicker than the width of your tongue.

You felt complacent when he let out a hoarse moan upon pressing your nose deep into his cock-slit, inhaling deep. “Yeah, that one…”

You traced the prominent veins on his cock with your tongue—thick, pumping blood vessels that made him throb over your mouth with rage. “You know, you’d have to work really hard…” Between fondling and suckling his full sack into your mouth, you stroked his shaft and muttered, “To break me into pieces.”

It was difficult enough to maintain some semblance of order, but the taste of John’s sweat, blooming delicately and stimulating your appetite like an hors d’oeuvre, made you nearly submit as your knees felt inclined to spread wider, and wider, letting you enjoy your last moments before you’d yield.

You hoped you were distracting John enough, being caught in the middle of humping the air and fucking yourself back on some imaginary dick would’ve gave him the upper hand.

“I do—oh, fuck…” He choked back on a moan, the heat of your mouth as you suddenly slid his cock inside melted the composure off his face. His thick shaft strained, stretching your wet mouth uncomfortably. The chances of you taking all of John inside of your mouth was slim to none. You’d done this so many times, tried everything, from practicing with a dildo to enduring the tears welling, to get him down your throat, but your body wouldn’t give in—it simply couldn’t.

He was much too big for your own good.

John was large. Tall. Always has been, and always will be. His muscular legs were open wide, his face was slack-jawed from your tantalizing tongue, and even though you could barely fit half of his cock inside of your mouth, you were still in control.

You pulled him out with a gasp, nearly choking back on the spit pooled in the back of your mouth, and sniffled. “You do? You sure about that?” There was no doubt that the inevitable was going to happen. Gagging on John’s large cock was a given, but it was the messiness of it all, that made your cock leak. “I don’t think you can handle it.”

His cock was coated thick and heavy in a glorious sheen of spit, translucent pearls shining on the veiny skin. One hand was massaging his balls while the other was adamant in slicking him up until the weight of your own saliva was enough to weigh him down.

You temporarily freed John from your fist to slap his wet and large cock around. It was delectable, watching his giant tool swing from the impact of your smacks. Webs of thick spit occasionally flung to your face, as if his dick was fighting back against your horrendous taunts, but all you needed to do was tame it with your mouth again, and the reign on John’s body resumed.

“I am, and I can…” John grunted, his abdominal muscles flexing. You could see his toes curling into the carpet at the corner of your eye, swirling your tongue over the swollen pink head while the rest of his monster cock was being man-handled by your quick hand, tightly grasping to keep your hand from slipping.

“You absolutely sure?” Your words turned him on, his cock maddening in course as it spat out drips of pre-cum from the squeezing grip you had around his shaft.

The substance wouldn’t stance a chance against your urges, you eagerly went on to lap it up, forcing more of the viscous fluid to come out with competitive strokes to aid.

“I’m sure—baby, come on, enough—“ He struggled to contain his moans, arching his hip forward to push himself further into your mouth, but you wouldn’t have it. Instead, you reeled yourself back, slapping his cock once again as punishment, and remained at tip’s length.

You could tell he was getting frustrated, you knew of his mannerisms for years now. For God’s sake, you were his husband. His jaw tightened and his eyes leered down at you with sudden alert—like a silent warning. He exhaled sharply as if the draft in the room had infected his strong body with frostbite.

Nonetheless, you continued entertaining yourself, knowing the consequences—anticipating them, rather.

You tongued the urethra of his dick, welcoming every drop with greedy sucks, all while you hadn’t left John out of your sight for a single second. You could make John orgasm right then, you were so sure of it.

“You really, really, really sure?” Your smile was smug, feigning innocence while you mouthed on his thick piece of meat, stroking yourself to the copious amount of pre-cum leaking from his tip.

John’s gaze immediately darkened.

He loved watching you slap his dick across your face. He loved being in awe at his own size, especially when you’d shower him in praises as you compared his big cock to your forearm.

I’m going to break my ass taking you, John. Holy fuck…

He loved having his dick sucked, point blank period. How sloppy it could get, how nice his cock felt when it was being slimed up with such pent-up arousal. You were confident that you were over-delivering in that department too because the lower half of your face was dripping in your own saliva.

“What’s the matter, big man? You don’t want to fuck me anymore? Break me into pieces like you originally wanted to? Think you won’t satisfy me enough?” You pursed your lips over the plump head, provoking John by the sudden languid pace of your wrist. “Answer me,” You slapped his large cock again, your own erection throbbing from watching John grit his teeth in sudden refusal to give in.

“Are you sure or not? Huh? Answer me,” John sucked in his teeth every time you smacked his cock, and you proceeded to hound him harder, narrowing your tone. “Your cock’s useless. Can’t satisfy me. Can’t satisfy a fucking flashlight with how big it is.”

“Ghoul got your tongue, or what?” You smacked his cock hard. “Your big fucking cock—” His cock swung. “—seems to be doing—” Pulsed in a fit of pique. “the speaking for y—“

A harsh slap cut your taunts short.

You let out a gasp, your hand instantly coming up to hold your cheek and tranquilize the stinging pain. Shock crossed your face, bewildered as though you hadn’t been anticipating his catharsis the entire time.

“Enough,” He pulled you up by the jaw to meet your lips hungrily, his large hands clamped tight around your neck like you were fresh carp farmed for hatchery. “You’re really testing me today, aren’t you?”

The kiss was searing, your lips volunteering themselves to be bitten and sucked to be forgiven upon the increasing pressure around your throat. Maybe you were still coming to terms with the slap, but it swallowed you whole nonetheless, rendering you incapable of producing a single coherent thought.

You whimpered softly, his resentment was beyond recall as his hands remained solid, one thumb looming over the center of your throat, “Hit me again—“

He stabilized you with one hand around your throat, squeezing tight, and let his other hand swing across your cheek, harder than previously.

“F-fuck!” You could feel your cheek blooming with heat, stinging as if a million of rose thorns had prickled your skin to poison you with its color, and you couldn’t have asked for more.

It was too good. John’s large hand imprinted hot on your face, and it felt too fucking good. You were branded, an extension to the wedding band around your finger, a reminder of your undying love for him.

“Get on the fucking bed,” John growled, tugging on your lower lip with his teeth, slow yet imposing, before sending you away with a gentle kiss on your stricken cheek, a much-needed relief you had been silently clamoring for.

The metal clanking behind you sounded like church bells, but you resisted the temptation of looking over your shoulder, fearing that whatever John had in mind, he’d strip it away upon your lack of diligence. You crawled onto the bed on all fours and anticipated nervously

At long last, you felt your royal throne crumble into a million pieces.

You suppressed an urge to swear. The heat emanating from a strip of leather when he struck your ass was bartered directly with the devil himself. Another peep out of you, and John would’ve banished you to hell to pay your dues to the fallen angel.

“It was cute, I have to admit…” Your body jolted when John muttered near your hear. In the time his hand was soothing your whipped ass cheeks, the other had a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back for you to look at him. “Seeing you think you had control over me, even going as far as to humiliate me and my cock—did that make you happy? Huh?”

“I-I don’t know—“ You struggled to find the words, your mouth parting instead to lean in for a kiss in hopes to distract him, but John quickly caught on. He knew you, very well in fact, yanking your head back harder to coax a gasp out of you. As John had expected, he then pushed a thick wad of spit into your mouth before pulling you by the back of your neck into your original position.

You shuddered, smacking your lips at the arousing taste of John’s saliva spreading in your mouth. You savored him, wanted John to last forever on your tongue. You didn’t want to swallow. You wanted to simply let his spit pool with your own and mix into the perfect elixir that would work perfectly as a muscle relaxant, something that would greatly aid you in taking John’s cock—knowing the likelihood that he wouldn’t be easing up anytime soon.

“Answer me.” Your eyes widened in a silent plea when John taunted you with the belt in his hand. Before you could moan out so much of a beg, the leather in John’s hand came down swinging at your buttocks and seemingly cut through flesh. In turn, your four limbs gave out from the electrifying bolts of pain, making you collapse onto your stomach from the arresting strength of John’s resentment as you cried out in pleasure.

“Oh, fuck! F-fuck, fuck, fuck…!” You writhed in bittersweet glory, choking back on swears and instead, what came out were delicious straggled sounds that made John’s cock uncontrollably pulse. Your hands roamed the bedsheets, clawing at the silk material in search for a physical outlet to release the tension in your body. “I-I’m s-sorry—“

His cock was near you, lubed up in a thick, alluring sheen. Maybe John wouldn’t mind if you held him. Plead for him to stop with lazy, but abiding stroke. You bit your lips and stretched over to grab him.

He lifted your head again for you to face him. You sniffled, letting the tears roll down your flushed face before another wad of spit would accompany them in their journey. “You’re not answering my question. Were you happy?”

Upon barely brushing your fingers over the head of his cock, you reeled yourself back when the belt came striking down on your ass again, breaking skin as repercussions to your hedonistic behavior. Your legs came up to kick back at the air violently, grinding out the pain by digging your swollen cock into the bed.

You had enough.

You needed John.

Now.

“Y-yes! I was fucking happy! Watching your large cock swing like that. Degrading you to the point where you were too ashamed to answer me. Abusing your pathetic tool because it’s too immersed in its own girth to know that I actually despise your cock. Should’ve seen the look on your handsome face—god, I could’ve came right there. All because I was in control. You fucking let me, you fucking delusional self-obsessed cuck—”

At breakneck speed, John curtailed you of your vigorous speech by shoving your face into a pillow, mounting on top of you with one foot pressing hard to the back of your head, and grunted, “How do you like me now?” Pushing all of his body weight to vault you out of an escape route, you felt his cockhead suddenly breach your hole.

“Holy—shit!” You sobbed at the discomfort, kicking your legs back as John pushed more of his large cock further in, adding onto the painful stretch of your unsuspecting hole. You felt his a palm on your ass, spreading one cheek open to aid the slide. “Fucking, more—Johnny! More, more, more—“

“There we fucking go, fuck. Look at that hole. Fucking swollen around me, and I’m only halfway in,” he licked his lips, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his forearm as he loosened your raw hole with shallow thrusts, his cock pushing deeper at every rut.

Your body’s natural reaction was to propel yourself up for some air, but after the first turn, John instantly took both of your wrists and bound them behind your back, your back muscles squeezing in effect. When you pushed your ass out, his foot pressed harder like it had the power to bury you six feet under if John had no concept of restraint.

It was painful, all of this, your neck was hurting, but especially your hole, his unrelenting thrusts—but, be that as it may, you were so happy that you didn’t have to remind John to leave you unprepared. Otherwise, the pleasure of John’s large cock gutting you raw wouldn’t have overstimulated you, not to this profundity. Your wriggles only made John hold onto your wrists tighter, his heel press deep into your nape, you were sure it would be bruised by the next morning.

You felt so used, your body at his disposal. Your cock was painfully rubbing between your pelvis and the bed from the impact of his strong thrusts, but you were leaking and throbbing nonetheless, staining the sheets from the thrill of it all—of being John’s personal fuck-toy.

“Feels fucking incredible. Shit, baby—“ His cock was digging into you like an excavator, slow in its journey, but you could feel him sowing excitement deep into you, nearing the crown of your prostate with the grind of his hips. You clenched tight, gripping your aching walls around the girth to provide John an incentive to go at you harder.

Not loose enough.

He had to fuck you open.

And you were desperate.

The perks to being married was that pleasuring one another came second nature to both parties. Luckily, you led a charmed life, and John was here to bestow upon you your weekly demands.

He released his foot on you, but you groaned when he pressed his remaining weight on top of your writhing body. “If you’re good…” John panted hot on your shoulders, accompanying the abruptly slow roll of his hips with chaste kisses to the shell of your ear and the moist parts of your neck. “Maybe I’ll let you play with your cock.”

“Please…” You flexed your toes into the sheets when John nearly pulled himself out, thankfully leaving only the swollen tip in.

“No, I had a change of heart. Maybe, I’ll let you jack off until you explode all over your sweaty body,” you pushed your ass back to slide more of him in, but a hard smack to your ass nipped your oscillation in the bud. “Don’t push your luck.”

“I’ll be good—promise…” you looked over your shoulder at John with glistening eyes and a sniffle, finding yourself frowning when he pulled himself completely out, and insisted on rubbing his wet cockhead over your raw, blossomed pucker.

“See? This is how it’s supposed to be—the natural order between you and I,” he sighed, giving into your desperation, and pulled you in for a sweet, lingering kiss after releasing your hands. A sigh of relief, you braced yourself half-way up with an elbow, the other hand reaching back to rest on John’s nape, and locked his lips deeply into yours, pacified by the soft fur of his beard on your chin.

His tongue messily swiped over yours as you both had intended to explore each other’s mouths. You two met in the middle, bridging each other’s spit from one mouth to the other. When a dribble of drool dared to leak from the corner of your mouth, John had incredible foresight and was already lapping it up before it could trail to the bottom of your chin.

“Say you love my cock…” John whispered, swaddling you into his arms from behind and carefully maneuvering your body on top of him as he switched positions, reclining himself onto his back.

Interlacing his legs with yours, John then pushed them apart with the spread of his knees, twisting his ankles over your own to lock you in place. He angled his hips to slide his dick over your taint, letting you wallow in the sight of his plump tool nearly curve over your throbbing erection.

“I love your cock…” You muttered softly, nuzzling the side of his kempt beard. The smell of bourbon vanilla lingered delightfully in your nostrils as you watched him from the corner of your eye, drooling when you caught a glance of his large cock spit thick drips of pre-cum over your balls.

It was fruitless to even try to attempt to close your legs, John’s calves overpowered your own by tenfold. In spite of your wish, John compensated by reaching below, trailing his warm hand over your ribs and stomach in passing, and wrapped his hand around your cock, slowly pumping.

“Say, you’ll be a good boy for me…” Brushing your hair back, John claimed a hold over the back of your head, raising his left arm to welcome your face into his armpit.

You moaned at the warm, musky odor. The thick hairs reeked of sweat. Salty and slightly spicy in your nostrils, yet you couldn’t help but inhale for more, breathing in the natural pheromones and making your cock dribble out ample amounts of pre-cum when the aroma of John’s masculine scent fogged your passing judgement, and had you licking at his pit.

John cradled the back of your head, quickening the strokes on your cock seemingly as a token of his appreciation while you buried your face in the bush of dark hairs, nuzzling and licking long stripes over the plane. It was addicting, yet embarrassingly filthy as it registered how easily John had reign over your freewill. Your spit gathered in the center of John’s armpit, where the hairs were grown the thickest. They were beads of your devotion, and you couldn’t have felt prouder marking your territory.

Your mouth watered and tingled at the ripe taste lasting on your tongue, then, when John suddenly tipped your chin up and spat inside of your mouth—you felt like you were in heaven, like your body wanted to crumble in front of him from the intimacy of it all.

He captured your lips again, and you muttered softly, “I’ll be a good boy…” You watched him with lustful eyes, anticipating his next move. His right hand had stopped stroking your cock in favor of massaging your tight balls, making you squirm with desire. When his other hand released his hold over the back of your head to toy with your perky nipples, the simultaneous pleasure carried a hoarse tune of desperation out from your throat.

“You’ll be daddy’s good boy?” He nuzzled your ear, kissing the shell of it.

“I’ll be whatever daddy wants me to be,” you slowly rolled your hips when you could feel John line his cock over your hole, lubing your pucker with the thick fluid leaking from the crown.

“And you want daddy’s big cock?” He rested one hand on each thigh respectively, spreading your legs farther by the aid of his knees.
 “I’m aching inside…” Your cock twitched upon feeling so completely vulnerable and bare for him.

“Then, let’s turn that ache into pleasure, shall we?”

That was all it took. A heartbeat, a single push of John’s hips, one strong stroke, and he claimed his territory. It was beautiful. Your silky flesh fluttered and clenched on his cock, and your eyes popped open wide when he slammed upward.

John ripped a glorious moan out of you. Your neck strained with beautiful veins as your attempts to bite them back were powerless in comparison to the spark of passion in John’s hips. You could see the very moment the fire flared in John’s eyes, his fingers gripping a mound of your thighs until they had turned white.

You were filled to the root, uncomfortably-so as John’s biceps bulged with strong veins on account of the bend of your legs. He capsized them, holding them back at the crook while he deliciously hollowed your hole deep with his monster cock, your feet dangling in the air from the pure drive.

It was a reminder. That you were his. That you were his only. Nobody could ever own you like he owned you now. John made sure those thoughts wouldn’t dissipate by making sure you felt every inch of his plump, meaty cock burrow in and out of you. John was adamant in making this more than a memory. He wanted you to wake up and sleep thinking about him. Thinking about his cock. Thinking about how brutally stretched you felt right now, and that you didn’t mind at all—because it was John, your loving husband. He would do anything for you, and right now, he was living up to his many vows of loving you fiercely, of completing you, of loving you forever and every day.

“T-too much, John—“ It wasn’t, you were lying—it was fucking perfect, but god, did you love making your husband feel powerful. You loved feeding his cock with arousal, feeling him throb harder while he pummeled himself faster into you at your spoken truth. “Cock’s too big—“

“I’ll make a cunt out of you, wear out your tight little hole until it’s leaking like one,” He growled. You cried out from unabashed lust, holding your legs back to expose yourself further, and John set the animal free at the depiction. He held your waist, dragging your unsullied hole through his hardness until only the tip was left before connecting the drop of your weight with a powerful thrust, punching into your prostrate.

“That’s what you are, right? My good little cunt? Just a good boy who can do nothing right, but take my large cock.” John gutted loud moans out of you, his gaze locked on your wrecked expression because watching you take his cock was equally as gratifying as sinking himself of you, down to the root. “Say it. Say you want daddy to make a cunt out of you.”

You were falling in love with this animalistic side of John. With the sensations he was supplying and overwhelming you with. Your cock was sure to agree, throttling as if there was a phantom hand stroking its shaft.

“I want—a fucking cunt. Want daddy to make a cunt out of my hole, please—“ You felt deviant, like those words shouldn’t have left your mouth, but it was all the worthwhile because John kissed you hard on the mouth, groaning.

Up to the hilt, John thrusted into faster—harder as you choked back on a moan and nearly gagged on his tongue. “I’m going to fill you up with so much of my cum, you’d be leaking for days.”

“Oh, God—“ You gritted your teeth, exhaling loud and hard because it was coming. Your stomach clenched and your balls tightened without the need of your hand.

“You’d be lucky to walk tomorrow, (M/N). You’d need my help walking you down the stairs. Even then, I wouldn’t be so sure if we’d make it to the floor. Knowing the prospect, I’d just take you right then and there, on the fucking stairwell, making your ass gape once again.”

“John, s-stop—I’m going to—“ Your eyes rolled back until John could only see whites. His words supplied you with the mental picture of the filthy smut coming out of his mouth. It came to you naturally—the smile on your face. You were broken in your state of reverie, dazed by the fantasy of taking John’s cock anywhere and anytime he pleased. Using you however his mind and body desired like he was now. Balls-slapping against your taint, sweat sticking your body to one another, pants and groans loud in your ear, the air thickening with the act of pure lust, pounding into you with no intention in letting you recover your breath. “S-stop, fucking coming—“

“Look at me,” John ordered you, panting.

Your eyes were heavy when you looked up, mere slits from the weight of your desires, heavily drugged by John’s poisoning rapture on your wrecked body. You pressed a smile against his mouth, making no attempt to kiss him, but to simply be in close proximity, pressing his nose against yours. He grappled at your hips, digging your insides with the weight of his large cock, piercing into prostate harder and faster as he took a bargain on your orgasm coming to a near.

You were stunned, the gutting you were enduring from John hitting you like a ton of bricks. You emptied your throat of sounds, the inner walls dry and scratched like the desert. All you managed for John was vigilant whimpers, any more forewarnings were fallen on deaf ears as you’d been knocked into a trance that melted your speech into meek garbles of incoherency.

It only took a few more seconds before your brain rewired itself and had your body floundering within John’s loving embrace, alerting you awake. With the help of John’s cock continuously assaulting deep at your prostate, you felt your body tense up, your hole clenching around pillar John’s pistoning staff to stop him, but he prevailed, breaching through the resistance, and slammed hard into your prostate once more, splitting your ass open and knocking the orgasm out of you.

John held your gaze, marveling over the ecstasy in your otherwise blown-out expression. His brows furrowed in utter fascination as your mouth parted open, only for your moans to adhere to your throat instead, blowing your load in agonizing silence. Thick ropes spurted powerfully out of your throbbing cock, splattering messily over your chest. With the buck of your hips, you graced your face with your cum-shots, additionally provoked as John used the strength of his heels to lift himself to meet you at an elevated height, fucking the cum out of you.

The sound that came out of you was guttural, transporting you into another dimension where you were caught in a whirlpool of toe-curling sensations. Rubbing a hand over your stomach, he could feel it sink in as you liberated yourself from your high, uncontrollably spilling over your pelvis in midst. Yet, despite your dazed state, your eyes never left his, provoking him to come inside of you with desperate, but gentle murmurs on his lips, as well as the addition of the ring of muscle spasming around his shaft.

“Fill my cunt up, make me fucking leak…” You showered his lips in soft whispers, finally releasing your grasp on your legs to stroke at his cheek. Squeezing, caressing, urging—for him to seal your hole.

On the drop of your legs, you squeezed them close together until your knees touched, confining his shaft between the clamp of your inner walls. You clenched hard when he was buried to the root, foiling the pace of his hips, and let your swollen insides bring him closer.

“Oh… shit…” John’s eyes rolled back, and finally spilled with a shudder.

His large cock jerked deep inside of you, and soon, you felt his warm seed fill you to the brim. You felt your bond with John transcend, higher, beyond space and time, with every pulse of his thick veins pumping cum deep into you.

Upon capturing John’s lips for a kiss, he circled his hips, making you moan languidly into his mouth. You swallowed every breath of his, swirling your hips against his own cautious thrusts in retaliation, gratified by the warm, thick coating of cum your insides were receiving, soothing your spellbound hole and stirring his connection to you.

“Didn’t hurt you too bad? Think I slapped you too hard.” John asked softly, gently rubbing a palm over your stricken cheek. You could see guilt in his expression as he brought you closer to claim your lips The moment was soft, the complete opposite of previous events, silent apologies to your mouth as John’s mouth was lingering, yet electrifying all at the same time as he sucked on your lower lip.

“You. Were. Perfect.” You warded off the guilt with a smooch after word, rubbing his chest. “I asked for it, you know that. It was fun, wasn’t it? Something different to spice up the bedroom.”

“Hm…” He laughed at your sudden eagerness, as if you hadn’t been debilitated from his cock moments prior. Tucking one arm behind his head, his other hand idly began petting at your head. He retired for the night with the shut of his eyes, contemplating on their newfound kink. “Let’s see how I feel when you’re the one slapping me next time. Then we can judge it accordingly.”

“Holy shit…”

“Mhm.” “I’m pulling out the dumbbells. Too late to go back on your word now, John.”

“Wait, now that you—“

“Not a single word, or I’m making you call me ‘Doctor’ as an early punishment.”

“We both know how this will turn out. I just need to pull my dick out, and you’ll be back onto your knees, no matter how much you try to resist.”

“I… plead the fifth?”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[archetypereid]

Ok, ok. Hear me out. Can you imagine? Getting fucked slowly by Lee Abbott. Your back to his hairy chest. One of his hands squeezing your mouth shut, the other gripping your hip tight so he's able to move you back while he thrust forward, deep and strong. His veiny dick wet and slippery with your juices that just wouldn't stop dripping all around his lenght to his balls, and he can't for god's sake groan or grunt because if so, he'll condemn your fates to the death angels. It's a fucking torture, it's dangerous, but it feels so good. He can't help himself. Neither can you.

And god, can we talk about how big and broad he is? How strong? My size kink is off the charts right now, I'm so fucked.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

trying wasnʼt enough (jack ryan x reader)

summary: Absence is a funny thing. It implies history and every story has to come to an end. Inevitably.

warnings: angst, fluff-ish, swearing

words: 1.6k

notes: based on the bell by first aid kit. lol bye

I tried hard to be brave

I tried hard not to be afraid

But trying wasnʼt enough

(y/n) sits on the edge of the bed as Jack walks across the room, carrying his packed bags. He stands in front of her, appearing tired and annoyed, “why do you always have to make me feel like the villain?”

“Oh, that’s right, how dare I”, she scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief and anger. “Because you’re the hero, aren’t you? How dare I question you, how dare I criticise Mr. Perfect?”

He sighs deeply, expanding his nostrils and looking away. This is going nowhere, they both know it. Dropping his luggage on the floor, Jack leans down so his face is level with hers. He speaks slowly, carefully, softly; like someone explaining something to a child. It only fuels her ire further. “You’re not being fair. What I do in the agency is important.”

“When are you gonna understand that I have the right to feel angry at this… this situation?”, her voice is but a whisper, breaking in her throat as the words come out. His brows furrow in something reminiscent of remorse, but it’s ghostly, nearly invisible. “Maybe I’m not being fair because this isn’t a fair situation.”

“And what’s fair to you?” Jack comes closer and stares into her eyes, his demeanour full of displeasure albeit he’s clearly containing himself. “Just because you don’t see me, doesn’t mean nothing’s going on. I’m doing this for us!”

“You being here with me, that’s fucking fair!” She shouts with a frown and Jack remains silent, his gaze unreadable. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t even flinch this time; his orbs hard and sharp as she adds, “that’s what I deserve.” 

When being brave simply isn’t enough, what more is there to be? Resentful. (y/n) felt like anything she did inevitably led to her drowning in her own ocean of resentment towards Jack. His blue shirt now hung from the chair, moving with the soft wind coming from the half open window. He had left in a rush, something to do with the mission of the moment. She grew used to it; being second to his duties as an agent. If she called him a spy, he’d get angry and shut down for a whole week. Things only slightly went back to normal after he took her out for dinner. His career had always been an issue between them, because when he willingly leaves such an important part of who he is a secret—no matter how many euphemisms John’d find for that word—to his partner from the beginning, it means he set his priorities straight even before she occupied any position in his circle. First work, then her. And as it was from the very start, so was the end.

How could he be so distant, she wondered, yet so overbearing at the same time? Washing the dishes in silence, she reflected on the occasions he’d left her feeling weak and defenceless in his presence, surely thinking he was doing quite the opposite. She understood his protective nature to an extent, sure; being a Marine and now a field agent came with its own set of triggers and traumas. He lost a lot of people he cared about, and it seemed as though caring about her was like reliving—or rather, anticipating—every pain he ever felt when losing someone. But even though she held such empathy for his struggles, his behaviour left her at a crossroads. Jack was too busy with his work to go to therapy and work on himself, after all. She never felt quite any opening from his part for her to even dare suggest it, anyway. It seemed so trivial in the face of the things he had to endure for the “greater good”, as he had called it time and time again. The girl left out another heavy sigh. 

She was dating fucking Captain America.

(y/n) places a washed cup on the sink and stares at it, her mind spiralling into the last two years of her life with Jack. Her eyes fill with tears instantly and she takes a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. When people leave your life, it shouldn’t be such a big deal. They have always come and gone, haven’t they? But the word “missing” does describe the stupid feeling very well. It’s not the longing for them, it’s the quiet laugh to that stupid joke she’d tell everyday that isn’t there now. What was once just isn’t anymore and when people leave, that’s exactly what happens; they’re somewhere else, not with you. And so there’s this insistent empty place which was filled not so long ago. The clock on the wall keeps ticking and the candles on the table melt all the same. Nothing happened, yet everything’s gone.

“Don’t do that”, Jack murmurs in the back of her memories. His words keep echoing like the sound of a ghost. He torments her every time she lets him. And she lets him more often than not. His glance is still slightly angry, but now also buried in desperation. He didn’t want to leave. It was clear and she couldn’t see it through her tears. “Please, don’t do that.”

“You’re never here anyway”, that was the last thing she ever told him. And just like that, he was gone the next day. “It won’t change anything”, was the quiet addition, after he closed the door behind him. Such a fucking lie. How could nothing change, really, when he was the reason for everything?

Walking towards the bedroom, she can’t help but laugh humorlessly at the things neatly organised. He cleaned it all prior to leaving this morning and a sad chuckle escapes her lips again. Back when they were in Moscow, she noticed right away he would be the type to drive her crazy over some dirty laundry on the floor. And she was right. They often had little arguments about domestic stuff, yet somehow, those were the best moments she could’ve spent with him. Going back and forth all day, teasing, bickering like two children was strangely soothing to her heart. Perhaps it meant that he was fallible, just like her; he could be picky and stubborn and annoying too, as opposed to his sober and unmoving nature, always in control. And it was like a breath of fresh air, to witness John let himself feel things even if for a period of time. 

“Come here”, Jack coos as he pulls her closer, burying his face in her hair and sniffing deeply. She’s still a bit annoyed about their debate earlier, but he’s feeling cuddly today, rocking her body back and forth with his. There’s a playful beam on his features as he mutters, “stop being so stubborn, that’s my brand.”

“You have a lot of them”, she sticks her tongue out and he laughs soundly, tickling her side. (y/n) gasps and tries to escape his grip to no avail, big long arms holding her firmly in place. She eventually gives up and his lips meet hers in a gentle, delicate kiss. Her heart flutters in her chest as he squeezes her body, smothering her as he ever did. A small smile shows on her face and he follows her as they exchange a knowing gaze. “I love you, Dr. Ryan.”

He pecks her gently, caressing her chin, “I love you too, silly.”

Could it be that those shared moments with Jack always felt so utterly overwhelming because it was a rare thing to occur? Her stomach turned at the faint memory as if someone had been playing with her guts and she took a step back, leaving the bedroom and slamming the door. Every single thing in this house now reached her senses like poison and she just wanted to scream. 

Running towards the backyard, her eyes fell on the little bedside table Jack had been working on. He made a habit out of doing woodwork and it wasn’t finished yet. She sat on the floor and studied the piece of furniture thoroughly, even though her knowledge of carpentry was about the same as her knowledge in maintaining a long distance relationship: fucking nothing. But just as she’s going to let herself drown in tears one more time that day, (y/n) hears steps coming from behind and turns her face to look at Jack standing tall, leaning on the doorway with his arms crossed.

He’s frowning, but seems more sad than mad at this point. “Are you gonna finish that for me?”

She snorts despite herself, eyeing the wood parts still waiting to be put together. “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to call Greer for that. I’m no carpenter.”

That gets a small laugh from him and he sighs. “I’m sorry, (y/n)”, Jack blurts out after a few seconds of silence. She stares at the grass under her feet as he approaches, sitting beside her with his elbows leaning on his knees. She can’t tell if he’s looking at her, but his hot breath hits her cheek as he continues, “if anything, I’d like you to know that I tried.”

His words sting. They sound soft and broken at the same time, and when she glances back at him, his gaze is so gentle. Ryan searches her face in deep thought, studying every inch of it as he’s used to and (y/n) simply nods, her eyes misty with unshed tears. “I know.”

From the rust that lies deep in its throat

I hear solemn tones

The danger, the absent floors

In the silence of night, he lets me know

That I’m not coming home

[biancadjarin]

1k notes wow guys thanks so much 🤯😭🫶🏻

🖇Office Romance🖇👔

Jim Halpert x female reader (y/n only used a couple times)

18+!!! Warnings- cursing, unprotected p in v, sex in public

Notes- more Eddie content coming soon I promise but idk I just started rewatching the office again and my Jim crush came flooding back to me. This is a situation where obviously Jim and Pam aren’t together, because I’d never get in between #jam 🥰

You push the door to the kitchen and walk through, going to the second door and into the annex. Passing Toby who’s on the phone with an emotional Kelly, you head to the supply closet. As you slip inside, you see your office crush Jim scanning the shelves, hands lifting tiny boxes of paper clips looking for the ones he wants.

“Hey.” He smiles lightly at you, “I’m not hiding from Michael in here. Ok fine, actually I am, don’t tell on me.” you giggle at his little joke.

“Your secret’s safe with me. What are you looking for?” you ask sweetly, walking closer to him. “I like those medium paper clips. And all we have left is the tiny ones and the huge ones.” He sighs, shouldering slumping dramatically. “But maybe if I look hard enough, some will appear.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“You need something?” He eyes you up and down curiously. “Post-its.” You say, stomach filling with butterflies under his gaze. “But I can grab them.”

You stand in front of the shelf, shoulder lightly touching his side, tall frame towering over you. Being this close to him, he smells like evergreen bar soap and the faint hint of chocolate, probably from the hershey kisses he’s been eating at his desk all morning.

Intoxicated by his proximity to you, you turn your chin to look up at him, your hands feeling around on the shelf aimlessly, mind distracted. His chestnut hair flipping up slightly over his ears, his big green eyes scanning the office supplies. You’re lost in a daydream staring at him. His cheeks ignite into a bloom of pink as he feels your eyes on him.

You’ve been a temp at Dunder-Mifflin for a couple months and in that time, you’ve gotten to know Jim pretty well. You two talk all the time, have lunch together, sit next to each other in the conference room meetings. Sparks ignited every time his knee would brush against your thigh or his hand would grasp yours when he would laugh particularly hard at something stupid Dwight would say. Jim has his own way of flirting but he’s too nice to ever try anything with you. He stares at you from across the office when he thinks you’re not looking, he makes excuses to come over to your desk twenty times a day. But you’re not satisfied with the light flirting. You want more of him.

You decide to be bold and make a move. Risky but if it doesn’t work out, you won’t be at this company much longer anyway. You move your body to stand behind Jim’s, hands leaving the shelf and moving to curl around his middle. His body tenses under you at first, softening as your hands trace up and down the sides of his thin button up. You hear a soft sigh as he turns to face you, your neck bending back to meet his eyes.

His hands come up to cradle your face, eyes softening, “y/n, are you trying to distract me?” he jokes, his voice low and gravelly. He doesn’t seem surprised or caught off guard, more relieved that one of you is finally doing something about this mutual crush. He slowly leans in, eyes fluttering closed as his lips hover close to yours. Your face is serious, eyes staring at his blissful face, pupils blown large. You want to kiss Jim, just not yet. You want to have a little naughty fun first. “Turn back around Jim.” you tell him. His eyes widen at you, face paused only inches from your face. He does as he’s told and turns his back to you.

Your hands resume their exploring, dipping low to tickle over his belt buckle. His breath hitches as you run your fingers over the zipper of his pants, going a bit lower on either side to find his member. “Mmph.” He groans as one of your hands comes into contact with it, sitting against his thigh and already partially hard. His hands grasp the edge of the shelf to steady himself, head falling forward.

Your hands continue to rub him through his pants, pressing your palm lightly into it as you go down, curling your fingers around the outline of it as you pull back up. His breathing is fast and shallow. A small “fuck” spills from his lips and you smile against his back devilishly.

Suddenly he grabs your hands to stop you. Your stomach drops, worried you’ve crossed a line. He turns around to see your worried face, bottom lip being nibbled by your top teeth. He smirks, “You keep doing that, m’gonna cum way too fast.” You release your lip, mouth hanging open at his words. “I knew you were a bad girl.” He says, body pushing closer to yours. The tent in his pants pushing into your hip as the soft flesh of his lips graze the shell of your earlobe, “Go lock the door.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and went and pushed the little metal knob into the handle. Your mind races and is blank at the same time as you walk back to Jim. His eyes are locked onto yours as he undoes his belt and pulls down his zipper, his pants falling to the ground and pooling around his ankles.

You stand in front of him again, hands raising to unbutton his shirt. Before you can undo the top button his hands are grasping behind your thighs, squeezing and hoisting you up to sit on an extra desk that sits in the room. You let out a squeak at the sudden movement, making him giggle at your cuteness.

“So fuckin’ hot.” He says as his hands squeeze at your waist, running down to your hips. He begins to pull at the fabric, pulling the bottom of your pencil skirt up, up, up until it’s bunched up around your waist. Your lacy black thong and matching black stockings sandwiching the plush, pale skin of your thighs. His fingers settle on the smooth skin there, gripping tightly.

You lean in and attack his mouth in a greedy kiss, his big nose tickling your cheek as you move your head around, kissing him deeply. Your tongues intertwine and smooth over each other’s passionately. His kiss is better than you’ve imagined, which you’ve done a thousand times in the past while you’d stare at his mouth. Your heels fall off your dangling feet as your curl your ankles around his legs, pushing his boner closer to your core.

You unbutton his shirt buttons starting at the bottom, pushing it back and off his shoulders as you undo the last one. He’s pale and scrawny underneath, not surprising, but what is surprising is how toned he actually is. His arms are large and strong, his stomach soft but defined at the same time. A light patch of soft hair leading from his belly button to down beneath his boxers. You let your hands wander over his chest, grabbing handfuls of his pecs and pinching his nipples playfully. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth at the feeling, leaning back for a second to switch to the other side of your neck.

“Been thinking about fucking you since you started here baby.” He says between kisses. “Always look so good. So sweet to me.” He smiles against your skin. “Never thought someone as beautiful as you would want me.” Your eyebrows pull together in confusion, how could Jim not know how cute he is? You don’t say anything through, thinking it’s better to keep these guys humble.

“Fuck me then daddy.” You say whiney and soft. He looks at you with eyes as big as saucers, frozen for a second. “Call me that again.” His hand is squeezing his cock, hardening even more at your little nickname for him. “Pull my panties off and fuck me hard daddy. I need to feel you. Now.”

He nods his head as his hands come up to your hips, pulling the thin black fabric down your thighs, past your calves, over your ankles and off of your feet. He places them delicately on the desk next to you, fingers patting them gently. “Let me keep those when we’re done?” He asks shyly. You giggle and nod, pulling his neck towards you again to kiss his lips.

His hands begin to pull down his boxers, you pull up your top over your head, blinded for a second by the fabric. When you can see again, you’re met by his large member standing at attention, thick vein running up the underside and wrapping around towards the head. His mushroom cap tip is the same warm pink shade of his lips, maybe pinker. The slit in the top is shiny with precum, some already starting to dribble out in little pearls.

“Wow.” You whisper out. He pulls your thighs toward him, angling your hips and lining up with your entrance, tickling your dripping folds with the head of his cock teasingly. “Start slow ok?” You ask him softly, worried about fitting all of him. “Course.” He smiles at you. His eyes watch where you two are connected, all his focus directed on opening you up slowly. You feel the stretch starting as the tip of his head breaches your entrance, stopping at the ridge that separates it from the shaft. Jim’s mouth hangs open as his warm breath comes out in soft pants. His eyes squeeze shut as he pulls the head out, to push it back in only that far and pull it back out again. He does this a few times, inching in his cock a little more every time he enters.

You moan at the feeling of slowly being filled up by him. Your hands come up to grasp your breasts through your bra, the meaty flesh of them spilling over the cups. Jim’s mouth attaches to one of them, suckling at the skin harshly enough to leave a Jim shaped bruise behind.

He groans out a pained sound as he finally bottoms out in your tight hole, his heavy balls sitting against your ass. “You ok baby?” He checks on you. “Mhm. Faster now daddy.” He bites his bottom lip and groans again as he pulls halfway out and pushes back in faster, harsher. Your ankles cross behind him, under his buttcheeks as his hands hold your thighs tightly to keep you steady. “So-so tight baby. You like how daddy’s cock feels? Huh?” Jim asks through gritted teeth. You smile at his growing confidence before letting your head lull back and eyes close. “Yes daddy, your big cock feels so good. Can barely fit it all.”

Jim’s body leans over yours, your chests meeting each other’s. He sets a rough pace, quickly pistoning into your pussy like a man starved. The wet squelch sounds of him abusing your hole and Jim’s short clipped breaths fill your ears as you let a high pitched moan escape from deep in your throat. The head of his cock is so deep inside you, hitting that spot that your fingers can never reach. One of his hands comes up between you, finding your puffy clit with his fingertips, pressing and circling it softly but fast. “Oh my g- daddy that feels so good don’t stop!” You say louder than you probably should.

He has a thin sheen of sweat on his body, chest shimmering with droplets, hair sticking to his forehead. His hand pauses his movements on your sensitive button to reach up and pull at your bra straps, moving them down your arms until your breasts spring free. Your nipples hard and pointing at him, his hands grasp them roughly, feeling the pebbled bud under his palm.

“I love how your tits bounce baby, look at them.” He says, out of breath. Your eyes are closed, feeling your orgasm creeping up on you, thighs shaking and walls of your pussy fluttering as you feel the muscles deep within you constrict. He sucks in another breath, “fuck baby, you’re getting even tighter.” You grab his hand and return it to your clit, “Need you here again.” you demand. “Yes ma’am.” He says, enjoying being bossed around.

He rubs your clit again, fast and sloppy, his fingers slipping on and off of it because of all the slick covering your entrance. His other hand is holding the back of your neck, forcing your eyes to meet his, foreheads resting against each other’s. His movements are getting sloppier, stuttering as he goes in and pulls out. His pink cheeks are red with effort, chest turning pink too. “Mmm’gonna cum soon daddy!” He smiles, nodding in agreement.

You hear the door handle rustling. You both look over at it but don’t slow down, too close to stop now. “Keep going.” you whisper “please daddy.” He does, wrapping his big hands on the soft sides of your lower back, fingertips resting on your dimples. He holds you firm and still, fucking into you relentlessly. You feel the tight pull inside you pulling further and further, every molecule buzzing with the sensation that’s building. Jim falls into your shoulder, mouth sucking at your neck as his quiet moans and pants get higher pitched. “Jim! Are you in there?” You hear Dwight’s voice call.

“Fucking ass-mhpm” he groans. “M’gonna cum beautiful, and I don’t think I can pull out, can I come inside? Please?” “Yes daddy, fill me deep with your cum.” You say as you reach the peak of your pleasure, orgasm hitting you and making your vision blur and mind get hazy. You feel Jim collapse into you, moan getting lost in your hair as he tries to stay quiet. Jim’s cock twitches as he empties his load deep inside of you. The door handle jiggles a few more times, “I’m going to get my emergency keys!” Dwight threatens. You meet each other’s eyes, panicked, Jim kissing your lips quickly before pulling out of you and bending down to pull up his boxers and pants, throwing his shirt on while you get redressed also. Thankfully, most of your clothes were just pushed up and out of the way, never really taken off. You slip back into your heels, both of you smiling at each other and giggling as you smooth your disheveled hair and run your fingers over any wrinkles in your clothes.

“Fuck.” Jim exhales a big sigh, “That was incredible. Thank you.” He says as he starts to head to the door, “I’m gonna kill Dwight.” He slips out to go find him. You give him a 2 minute head start, grabbing the post-its that you originally came in for off the shelf. As you’re about to leave, something catches your eye. Your lacy panties are still sitting on the desk. You grab them, stuffing them in the pocket of your skirt.

When you go back to your desk, you pass Jim and Dwight arguing. “Well why did you have the door locked? That’s a safety hazard. I should tell Michael!” “I told you, I must’ve locked it by mistake, you’re overreacting, as usual.” You feel kind of guilty as you sit in your chair, trying to remember what task you were doing before you left.

A few minutes later, Jim comes over to lean against the edge of your desk, arms crossed over his chest. You meet his eyes with worry, fingers nervously fiddling with each other. “Do you think he knows?” “Dwight?” Jim sucked his teeth, “Nah, he’s paranoid but he’d never think about that.” “What if he does? What if he figures out what we did?” You ask panicked. “Aw baby,” his says softly, hand coming out to caress your cheek before dropping back down to his side. “If he figures out what we did, then I’m so fired.” Your eyes widen as he laughs at you. “It’d be worth it though.” He leans close to your face. “So you grabbed your panties right?” You nod slowly, hand tracing over them in your pocket.

He puts his palm out in front of you. “Hand ‘em over y/n. I’m confiscating those for further investigating. The case of the locked supply closet door. What ever could’ve happened in there?”

FIC MASTERLIST HERE

💕💕💕Thank you for reading!!💕💕💕

[august-diehl]

CILLIAN MURPHY as Emmett in A Quiet Place Part II (2020) | dir. John Krasinski

[supercap2319]

Y/N smirked. Looking at Mister Fantastic, Human Torch, Wolverine, and their variants. "I can take you guys."

"In a fight, right?" Reed one asked.

Y/N said nothing, just smirking.

"In a fight right, kid?" The Cavillrine asked.

"Nope."

[starrgazed22]

THE OFFICE'S HALLOWEEN

Jim Halpert x gn!Reader, but Pam and Dwight are also in this. :) Word count: around 600 Summary: Reader needs to quickly think of a Halloween costume to not get K.O.'d by Dwight's ego. Author's note: I became obsessed with X-men again after seeing Deadpool & Wolverine and I've got this idea! Enjoy!

As you step into the office, a sinking feeling hits you like a ton of bricks. The atmosphere is different today, buzzing with an excitement you can't quite place—until you look around. Every single person is in a costume. Pam at the reception, with her whiskers carefully drawn on and a headband with perky cat ears, looks up at you and offers a soft smile. Across the room, Kevin stands proudly in a superhero costume that’s almost comically tight, and, unsurprisingly, Angela is also in a cat costume… and Phyllis too.

You freeze for a moment, dread creeping up your spine. Halloween. How could you forget?

You walk to the reception, greeting Pam. Then, like a scene from a horror movie, you catch sight of Dwight. He’s sitting there, shrouded in a long black hooded robe, his eyes piercing you.

“You’re late…” Dwight announces, his voice dripping with ominous intent, clearly trying to stay in character.

“Yeah… there was crazy traffic down there,” you respond, scrambling for an excuse.

He inhales deeply, then lets out a dramatic sigh, clearly enjoying his role a little too much. “What are you supposed to be?” His tone suggests he’s already anticipating your failure.

Your mind races. You can’t let him know you forgot it was Halloween. That would be handing him a victory in whatever unspoken battle the two of you are constantly fighting... sometimes three of you, when Jim joins.

You need to think of something fast. Something that’ll completely throw him off.

You got it.

Dwight opens his mouth to speak again, ready to announce your defeat. “I could’ve—” he starts.

You cut him off, smoothly drawing your index and middle finger up against your temple and squinting your eyes in concentration. “—thought so…” you finish his sentence, trying to mimic the deep, contemplative voice of someone who’s just accessed the hidden corners of their mind.

Dwight’s expression falters for a second, his usual expression of suspicion giving way to genuine shock.

“I am Professor X, Charles Xavier,”you declare, trying to sound as confident as possible.

He snorts, immediately slipping back into his usual skepticism. “No you’re not. He’s bald.”

You roll your eyes. “Jesus, just imagine him young!”

“He was always bald, because of his mutation, dumbass,” Dwight snaps back, and you can tell he’s savoring this moment.

You lean in closer to Pam and whisper, “What a nerd.”

Pam stifles a laugh, as she watches you stroll to your desk, which, unfortunately, is directly across from Dwight’s.

“And you are?” you ask, gesturing to his dark, ominous ensemble.

“I am a Sith Lord,” he declares, his voice dripping with melodrama as he pulls back his hood slightly, revealing his intense, steely gaze.

You tilt your head and smirk. “Oh really? I thought you were having an identity crisis. No offense.”

Dwight opens his mouth, ready to retaliate, but he’s suddenly distracted by the sight of Jim walking in through the door. Jim is wearing his usual attire, except for three black circles taped to his shirt.

Dwight is done. “And you are supposed to be?”

Jim glances down at his shirt, then back up at Dwight with a grin. “Three punch holes, Dwight. Normally I’m just Jim. Today, I’m three-punch-hole Jim.”

Dwight stares at him, annoyed that no one seems to take Halloween seriously here. “You’re both so boring. Seriously, you’re made for each other,” he mutters, shaking his head as if the sheer absurdity of it all is too much for him to process.

Jim gives you a look, clearly remarking the last sentence Dwight said. You can’t help but blush slightly. Suddenly Dwight storms off in disgust, robe billowing behind him like a dark, disgruntled shadow, making you, Jim and Pam laugh uncontrollably.

In this bizarre office, it’s the small victories that matter, and you and Jim know you’ve just won this round without even trying.

Another author’s note: I know Professor X as James McAvoy had hair in the films, but they only know the X-Men with Stewart + I read somewhere that in the comics he didn’t have hair at all so Dwight may be right. :D

[luusecret]

jim halpert moodboard

how to be jim halpert's soulmate *yahoo! answers* /send

[a-boca-do-inferno]

Prague getaway (jack ryan x female oc)

summary: “Oh, loosen up already.” Randy leans back and shoots him a teasing look. “We’re gonna be here a long time, might as well hold hands and start singing Kumbaya.”

warnings: angst, blood, violence, swearing.lots of it, light smut, fluff

words: 10.7k (:O)

notes: jack ryan girlies rise!! i put my whole pussy in this. also its my first time ever writing with an oc so bear with me lmao.

CENTRAL EUROPE

Birds chirped outside and the loud chatter coming from the street was a bit distracting from the sound of TV, but Randy managed. Her plate faced her on the coffee table, now empty, along with a half filled cup of apple juice. It must have been past noon while she had the time of her life laying on that dirty and ancient couch, watching some Czech program about the Internet. And by the time of her life, she secretly meant being bored as hell. Tagging along with Jack Ryan wasn’t even on the list of the worst things that could’ve happened to her given the circumstances, by the way, she’s well aware of that—seeing as her life was now on the line and he was only there to protect her—but goddamnit, was that cable shit. The things she did to put Jim at ease. 

Although the girl didn’t really agree with his tactics to go about it; Johnson just knew better than to argue with Greer. After she started getting on his nerves with her insistence on using the intel she acquired and he actually took her seriously, it had been noticeable he came to think of himself like a father figure to her, since she was a rookie in the mission department. And Randy simply let him feel that way. Being away from his family ever took its toll on the guy and contrary to popular belief, she wasn’t the clueless, selfish bitch everyone made her to be.

Always, anyway.

Jack glances at her spread out on the sofa, trying to keep his annoyance in check and failing miserably. “What are you watching?” His voice suggests he’s very affected that Randy herself doesn’t appear fazed by their current situation. At all.

They had been stuck in that shithole for six hours now, completely in the dark as to where the mission stood after the shady organisation of the moment—as Johnson liked to put it—crushed into their hotel rooms and chased them out of town. And despite not exactly considering the capital of the Czech Republic under a terrorist threat for his idea of a nice vacation, it certainly beat having to now share some dirty kitchenette in the outskirts of Prague with the most insufferable woman he’s ever met. Jack caught wind of the discrepancies in the way they did their job from the start, and to say he wasn’t pleased with hers was an understatement. Her so-called intel had led them to that place, and her negligence above it all bothered him to no end. That and the ever present snark. He wondered how in the world did that character make it to the agency. She should’ve been in publicity, instead.

“A nice TV show about ordinary people wanting to become influencers”, Johnson responds in that tone of hers, with an almost sweet smile. Ryan’s mouth moves as though he’ll say something, but decides not to. He has better things to do with his time than to argue with a brat. Jack simply stares at her green eyes and sighs, going back to his computer screen, and Randy snorts, “well, Jim did mention you don’t like having people around.” Her feet move back and forth as she watches him type. “I’m like you in that way, you know?” Closing the distance between them, she brushes some stuff off his eyelid carefully, and it’s clear the man wasn’t expecting that. He tenses up. “So, my bad. I don’t wanna be here any more than you do, but you know Greer.” 

“Is that so?” Jack blinks, scanning her face up and down wryly. “In that case, you’re free to leave anytime you want.” 

Johnson laughs heartily, contrasting his impassive demeanour. “You do have a sense of humour, Jackie! I’ll give you that.” She shrugs and grins, with a declare to her voice, “and to answer your question: maybe I’d try to, but I’m not skilled enough to outsmart a Marine, I’m afraid.” 

Jack looks away, still typing on the keyboard mechanically. “You sound like a fan.” 

“You wish.” Her orbs gleam with mischief, and she sits a bit straighter to make a striking pose. “I wouldn’t mind learning some moves, though. I’d love to kick some ass. I bet I could take you, big man.” 

Ryan chuckles under his breath, against his best judgement. It feels surreal to him, this girl. “You certainly have a unique way about yourself.” He states bluntly, raising his brows as he closes up the laptop and puts it on the small table to their side. “Don’t really look like someone in Logistics.”

Randy nods, crossing her legs with a smug expression. “I didn’t get the memo before taking the job, I guess.” 

“Right.”

“Oh, loosen up already.” She sits up and leans back on the couch, her attention going to the program running in the background for a second. “We’re gonna be here a long time, by the looks of it. Might as well hold hands and start singing Kumbaya.” 

Jack shakes his head slightly, his tone growing more serious. “You need to focus on the mission, Johnson. This isn’t a game.”

“Sure thing, dad”, she snickers, running a hand through her short hair idly. “You talk like it’s your head those fuckers want on a plate.” 

“It is too, actually.” Ryan frowns. That’s the attitude he doesn’t like. “I suggest you get your head out of your ass as soon as possible. Enough people have died because of you.” 

Although his words sting, Randy keeps a lighthearted mood. “So is that why you’re behaving like an asshole ever since we landed, you’re worried about yourself?”, she wiggles her brows, fixing a few blonde strands softly and clicking her tongue. “And here I thought you just didn’t like me.”

“I don’t have time for this”, Jack mutters to himself and leaves, closing the door to his room quietly.

Johnson only hummed along, watching as the winner of the episode celebrated on the screen. She knew Ryan was doing nothing but his duty protecting her, of course, yet it felt strangely disappointing that he, of all people, seemed to judge her so much for her actions up until that point. Randy went behind her superiors’ backs to scavenge the information that now threatened her own safety, sure, but how many times had he done the same thing again? Either way, arguing with the guy about it was just showing she cared for his opinion—which she didn’t, for the record. That cable just sucked and she was bored as hell. With a heavy sigh, the girl stood up to turn off the TV when a sound made her ears prick up. She frowned, inspecting the empty space. Something fell on the floor with a loud thud in the other room and Randy took a step back. 

“Jack?”, she calls, getting no reply. 

Her feet moved toward his door and it crashed right before her eyes, causing her to step away in reflex as two bloody men were thrown on the ground with it. With no time to process what was happening, Ryan took her by the arm and dragged her out of the apartment with no delicacy whatsoever. They ran down the stairs while he cocked his gun and whispered something unintelligible. She grabbed his forearm when another two hooded figures started closing in on them. Jack quickly got rid of the attackers and gave Randy a look before pulling her out of the building and into a car.

“Drive.” He commands, keeping his eyes behind at anyone following their vehicle. 

She obeys without a second thought, stepping on the accelerator with all her might. Johnson grips the wheel tightly as she mouths, in a shaky breath, “what the fuck is going on, Jack? Talk to me.”

Ryan braces himself as they take a harsh turn, blood dripping from his eyebrow. “They found us again.”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” Randy gasps when a pickup appears out of nowhere, shooting at them. She makes a u-turn and steps on the pedal, watching from the rear mirror. “How the hell did that happen?”

“I don’t know, just drive!” Jack rolls down his window and fires all his rounds at the vehicle still on their tail. He goes back to his seat and reloads his pistol, looking straight ahead. “We gotta get to the Embassy.”

“Got it.”

♡♡♡

“I see.” Jim sighs through the phone call. “I still have some business here in Moscow, but I’ll be in Prague as soon as I can.” 

Jack doesn’t like the sound of it at all. He keeps track of Randy moving around in the background. “Copy.”

The ride to the Embassy was messy, but they made it in one piece. Well, Ryan did. After settling in the nice hotel the Ambassador offered them in another city nearby Prague—as to not draw any more attention to them, in his own words—, now with heavy security outside, Johnson winced when trying to change. She lifted her shirt and only then saw the ugly bruise on her abdomen, her skin sliced open and gushing blood. It was a bullet graze and albeit it wasn’t serious, the thing still hurt like a bitch. As the girl hissed and took a seat on the bed, Jack stopped in his tracks and crouched down before her. He gauged her injury with a trained eye, his lips curling in thought. 

“Remorse?” Randy laughs deeply, tilting her head. “Don’t worry, I don’t hold grudges.” She sighs and looks at him seriously, like she hadn’t been until now. “How the hell did they find us this time, Jack? This stinks. No one knew about that hideout except you, me and Greer.”

His voice drops to a lower register as he takes her arm and brings it around his shoulders to lay her down, “I’m working on it. Right now we need to focus on getting you patched up.” Jack pulls her body close to his and fluffs the pillows, making her comfortable. He tries to ignore the way her hair tickles his chin.

Johnson chews the inside of her cheek, but accepts the help. “I’m okay, it’s just a graze.” She gulps and scratches her eyelids, taking a deep breath and glancing up at the ceiling. “That pickup didn’t look cheap. These people have some serious connections here. We have to get to the bottom of this.”

“We will”, Ryan says with resolve, nodding once. He scans the room in search of a med-kit and Randy points to the bathroom. 

While Jack leaves for a moment, Johnson moves a little and pouts when the pain comes back. He catches her in the act and she chuckles, a little embarrassed, “so much for spy training, huh?”

Rummaging through the kit, he hums, “if it was easy, everyone would do it.” In the midst of pulling out the antiseptic and the gauze roll, he steals a quick peek at her.

Randy only grunts in response, her lips pursed. “Greer’s gonna get our asses for this. He doesn’t even know we left Prague in the first place.”

Jack doesn’t reply immediately. He’s finally found the right size gauze roll and puts it aside. His orbs roam her up and down, studying her exposed skin. He whispers, almost talking to himself, “he’ll get over it.”

“You know, I’m sorry about earlier”, her gaze has an amused gleam, but seems sincere. “I have been a little more annoying than normal, I’m aware. I’m sure by now you noticed why I’m not so popular among my peers in the agency, especially not after this… mess.” She looks down.

“You make it difficult for them because you can afford it”, he considers, cleaning her wound delicately. Taking note of her surprised reaction, he adds with a smirk, “I read your file. You’re not the only one who did the homework.”

After a moment of silence, she speaks up again, solemnly, “when we’re done with this, I’d like to make it up to you.” Randy sits up against the headboard with his help, now grinning, “how does pizza sound?”

His chest feels funny as Jack catches the look on her face. The offer sounds genuine and he smiles. “I’d love that. Your call on toppings.” When her bandage is finished, he puts the med-kit away in the bathroom cabinets.

“That’s right, I make all the decisions”, Johnson pushes his shoulder lightly as he sits back down, making him raise his brows but laugh along. “You learn fast. I can see why they talk so much about the analyst down the hallways, now.”

“I make them talk, huh?” Ryan tries to play it off with a soft chuckle, yet the blush on his cheeks is obvious. He leans in closer to take the phone on the bed, and with their faces only inches apart, his body can’t help but linger in that position. Suddenly the atmosphere tingles with tension and his breath hitches ever so slightly. Her eyes are breathtaking.

“Your humble act doesn’t work on me”, her voice is but a whisper, the corner of her lip lifting up ghostly. “Jim gave me the rundown on you before I came here, you know? He told me not to inflate your massive ego.”

He beams, his look dropping to her mouth, “that sounds like jealousy.” 

Randy laughs and now can’t hide her own bashfulness. She reaches for the bedside table and puts on her round sunglasses, looking away from him in a not so subtle attempt at denying his advances. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jack.” The girl sighs heavily, unable to stare back at him for now.

Her words were clear enough. It was a bad idea, indeed. And in spite of being visibly disappointed, his facial expression stayed blank as his phone started ringing again. It was probably Jim. He thanked the heavens in silence for that call to get him out of that situation. His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment and Ryan moved away from her, pressing the answer button as he got up and left for the other room. He grabbed his jacket over the chair as he went, glancing back at Johnson before she was completely out of vision. There was a flicker of curiosity in her emerald orbs whilst Jack closed the door.

Randy went to sleep right away, in hopes to wash off the incident with Jack by rebooting her systems. Besides, she was very exhausted; so much so her bones felt like jelly under her skin. Turning on her side with all the care in the world, she shut her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Soon her body began to spasm and shake, sweat dripping from her forehead as she turned on the bed and hissed when her wound stung. She sat back up with a quiet gasp. The war nightmares were a normal thing to occur, but had been more frequent from the moment she landed in Prague. 

On the other side of the wall, Jack leaned back in a chair as he flipped through a small manila folder. His attention was glued to the paper, but his mind wondered. The sound of Randy tossing and turning on the mattress reached him and he tensed up, closing his eyes briefly as if to block out the sounds. He stayed like this for several moments before finally forcing himself to face reality. They had been running from terrorists when they should be the ones trying to catch them, and that didn’t sit right with him. Hiding wasn’t helping them in any way, out of maybe buying some time to rethink their strategy. And with Johnson hurt, Jack saw no other option but to push things forward on his own. He called Mike November the next minute, urging him to come to the Czech Republic tomorrow. They were gonna need all the help they could get. 

The hours dragged on and his thoughts kept him awake. There was no way he could sleep while Randy was alone in the other room, wounded. She wasn’t a field operative, and that meant her training would only help her so much away from him. The girl barely survived the last encounter with their attackers, all because she had been lucky enough not to be in the room they invaded first. He tried to shake off the feeling of guilt over her injury to no avail. It wasn’t serious, however it could’ve been, and the mission would’ve been compromised then. Ryan gave up on the file and sat it aside.

Regardless of not being able to figure out Randy entirely just yet, John realised he had been cultivating a fondness for her over the past events. For someone who never used a gun in her life, except maybe for her training days, Johnson kept calm and helped with what she could, no questions asked. Not everyone has that kind of self control in the face of danger and he admired her for it. She even reminded Jack of himself, somewhat, back when he was a rookie—even though he wasn’t as annoying, surely. Either way, the blonde had a grace about her. Perhaps it was that nearly youthful spirit, the playfulness even in the blink of imminent disaster. He still found it hard to believe she had made her way into the CIA without losing most of her spark by now. 

His look automatically dropped to Randy’s file, right under the mission’s. He scanned through some of the notes and reports he had been doing up until now. Johnson had been with the agency for just over four years, still her work ethic was impressive, at the very least. The only negative points were personal complaints from her previous office colleagues, most of them depicting her as a “stubborn, impulsive and rebellious, but effective agent”. He chuckled under his breath. That sounds about right. 

Jack flipped through more pages, going over her skills: communication, adaptability and problem solving were top on the list. His eyes glossed over the next sheet: relationships, but he quickly stopped himself and closed the envelope. He’s already overstepped as it is. Ryan put down the file and let out a frustrated sigh. Thinking back on the days before the mission, he remembered Jim’s words. 

“She’s a tough cookie, but you’ll get used to it.” Greer swirls his glass of Merlot casually. “I know how it looks and trust me, I’m one of the people who doubted her from the beginning, until it turned out her intel was solid. I don’t care how she got it or why, just as long as we catch that son of a bitch Jones.”

Jack could see the concerned look on Jim’s face as he delivered his briefing. He didn’t appear so confident in the girl’s abilities as he tried to come across. And while it didn’t bother Ryan perse, he had this unshakeable gut feeling that there was a lot more to Randy than what you can see at first glance. Perhaps even more so than she let Jim himself know. 

“Copy.” That’s what he said back then, nodding and staring at the table.

“And don’t even think about it”, were his boss’ last remarks as he gulped down his wine in one go. “Randy’s not Cathy, Jack. You’re there to protect her and the information she holds before Jones can get to her.” His voice sounds tight, but not really threatening. Greer’s always been a little too overprotective of the rookies. “No fooling around.”

“Jack”, Randy calls huskily. “I’m bleeding.” She complains, yawning softly. Johnson stares at the dark room and sighs, doing her best to wake up fully. “Jack.”

His eyes fixated on Randy’s picture when he heard her voice coming from her bedroom. He stood up and opened the door, flicking on the light and making his way to her bed. Her wound oozed blood under her shirt, soaking the fabric in red as it dripped down onto the mattress and he shook his head, looking at all the work he had put on the bandages now gone. 

“What the hell did you do, Johnson?”, he grumbles, running for the bathroom to take the med-kit.

“I moved”, she shrugs and tries out a playful smile, but grimaces when a sharp sting hits her like a brick. “Just… hand me the gauze and I’ll clean it up myself.” She concludes, noticing he isn’t pleased.

Jack comes back with the kit and narrows his eyes, his features remaining stoic, “sit down and put pressure on it.” He grabs her wrist to help her up, moving her back to the headboard. His lips purse as he inspects the red liquid streaming from her side. “It looks even worse than before, Jesus.”

“Sorry”, she frowns and looks away, feeling guilty for making him do this again. “I really can do it, you know? I’m not a baby.”

“Really? You’re not doing such a great job at convincing me otherwise”, he states softly, his initial anger dissipating to give room for worry as he treats her injury. She doesn’t respond, adjusting herself on the pillows. “Stay still.”

Randy sighs. “I wanna talk to Greer.”

“What for? He says he’s coming.” Jack wraps the gauze around her abdomen, holding the roll package between his teeth. “There’s nothing we can do for now. Jones is onto us. We have to be extra careful.”

“Yeah, that’s not really my style”, she huffs, visibly bothered by his decision making without consulting her. “I’m calling my contact in Roztoky. He can help us move around the city without worrying so much.”

“Your contact”, Ryan sounds unimpressed, finishing off the new bandage. He looks down at his lap for a split second, then turns his gaze back to Randy. “Don’t you think it’s time you caught me up on all of this?”

“I told you everything.”

“Did you, now?” Randy glares and he stares right on, scowling himself. “All you have done so far is get on my nerves and not cooperate with the mission at hand.”

“I don’t cooperate with you bossing me around, that’s very different”, Johnson blurts out in a single breath, looking upset. “I might not be the big shot you are in the agency, but I have a right to know where we stand because it concerns my safety too. I don’t care if I’m fucking Logistics.” 

Jack still glowers at the girl, but eventually softens his features. She’s got a point. “Fine. I called a friend just now. He’ll help.”

“Okay.” It’s all she says, and anticipating the end of the conversation, Jack moves to leave. Her hand touches his arm faintly before he does, “thanks.”

Nodding, he steps away and closes the door. 

♡♡♡

When Jim told Randy to get on the next plane to Prague only days ago, something inside of her shifted. So far she had been carrying this intuitive sensation that no matter what she did, the guys higher up would never take her warnings into consideration. And then, just as Johnson gave up and decided to do things on her own, Jones bombed a US Embassy in Europe, and announced he would keep on doing it until he was either killed or caught. Overnight, all the letters the girl sent the director of the CIA were answered and in less than a week, they stationed her and Jack in Prague. 

“Wait for further instructions. As of now, Dr. Jack Ryan will be assisting you”, was the last email Greer typed. And with that, Johnson flew with the so-called doctor to Europe. She knew all about Jack’s successful streak with Suleiman, then Venezuela and Moscow, of course. The tales of “the analyst” often made her chuckle whilst spooning her salad, since people were unable to hide their admiration—and sometimes, even envy—for Ryan as they shared his stories on lunch break. Nothing much happened on Logistics, so that had been their entertainment for a long time. Until things became erratic with the Prague bombings, that is. 

Looking back now, everything happened so quickly. Randy didn’t have a chance to take it all in. The rush was similar to her days in the army, when she had to get moving around with no time to think or feel. There was the goal and the path she’d be taking towards it, nothing else. She saw the same mindset in Ryan right away, even if their approach was fundamentally different. The blonde reckoned the Marine Corps could be stricter and, as a result, more demanding than military service. That is also why, although not hitting it off well from the beginning, she tried her best to remain friendly with him—which could include being annoying every now and then, sure, but that’s beside the point. They both possessed life experiences not too far apart that deeply shaped them into who they were today, for better or for worse, and that meant something. Jack was her. 

Only grumpier and square. 

Staring back at the table, Randy resumed eating her meal. Pancakes were her favourite dish, no matter where she was. And again, she felt lucky enough that Jack’s remorse made him go out of his way to try and fetch her some from the downstairs cafeteria. His friend Mike was funny, funnier than Ryan—not that it was hard—and she had a great time while they chatted over a nice American breakfast in Central Bohemian, Czech Republic. It almost felt as though they weren’t being chased down by assassins, and she hadn’t nearly been hospitalised for an infection in her bullet graze only the night before. 

“So?” Randy smiles brightly at Mike, urging him to speak after she briefed him on the situation. Jack had been quiet until now, because he was boring, so she took it upon herself to catch Mike up on the whole deal. If his laughter at her stupid jokes was anything to go by, she’d take a hunch and say they built a strong bond already. If only things could work like that with Ryan. “You think you can help us, Mikey?”

Michael can’t help but snort, oscillating his eyes between Johnson and Jack, who’s still eyeing his empty plate in thought, “where did you find her again?”

“Don’t ask”, Ryan finally sighs and Randy shrugs, eating her pancakes happily. He looks at November seriously. “I’m gonna need you to call your guy. We have to be in the same place as Jones, hit him when he doesn’t expect it. We’re running out of time.”

“I’m on it”, Mike nods, then glances at the girl with a grin. “How about you, sweetheart? Ready for some grown up action?”

Jack rolls his eyes at this, but Randy laughs out loud. She’s yet to get used to being treated like a damsel in distress. “Hey, I can throw a punch! Don’t let Jack poison your mind. He’s just butthurt that I got intel working in Logistics that he couldn’t as a field agent.”

“Ouch. That hurt even me.” He snickers and Ryan stands up, putting his gun inside his pants. Mike follows suit. “Just right down to business, huh?”

“I told you, we don’t have time”, Jack takes a look at Randy, who’s watching them with her chin on her hand, smiling. He clears his throat and touches her shoulder lightly, “we’ll be back before dark. Try not to hurt yourself while I’m away.”

They hadn’t mentioned the little incident last night, but when his touch found her skin, Johnson’s mind made its way back to his closeness hours prior. How he ogled her lips with no shame whatsoever, and how eager he seemed for breaking the rules for her, so to speak. It was a nice change in pace for the Jack she had come to see around that period. It also took her an enormous amount of self-control not to jump on him right then and there, however there were more important things at play. If only she wasn’t such a professional. 

Randy renders a hand salute, mockingly. “Aye, aye, sir.”

Mike smiles at Ryan. “I like her.”

As they left, Johnson sighed and stood up, going for the burner Mike brought with him so they could communicate. She called her boss in Maryland and gave him a summary of the mission, explaining Jack’s plan thoroughly. They found a way into Jones’ charity event tomorrow, courtesy of Mike’s contact. If everything went well today, she would be face to face with her target in just a few hours. Her orders were loud and clear: shoot to kill. Placing the device down, the blonde took a deep breath, looking out the window at the clean, welcoming landscape of Horoměřice. 

She was never a fan of big cities, despite being born in Los Angeles. The nice and quiet suited her better, so leaving Prague, notwithstanding she wished for better circumstances, was actually a relief. Away from the hustle of the capital, she could think more clearly. And the thought of coming back here after the operation made her happy. The people were nice and very comprehending of her ignorance of their culture—albeit she did speak a little Czech, but had to pretend not to, for the sake of her cover. Ryan still had to think she was the sweet and rebellious rookie; at least until she got the job done. 

A few blocks away, contemplating the clear, blue sky also, Jack caught himself appreciating the view for longer than he intended. The small things were ever the anchor he needed to keep moving forward, especially in this line of work. Whenever he was on a mission, time went by in a rush, and the only way to alleviate that feeling was to focus on the here and now. Nature could calm him down like nothing else, but as he watched the trees moving along with the wind, the green of the leaves slowly merged into emerald eyes he now came to know too well. Putting his hands in his front pockets, he took a peek back at the old building behind him and Mike walked out of it.

“Please, tell me you got us in.” Jack practically begs, watching him come down the stairs. He had been talking to his guy for over fifteen minutes while Ryan waited outside. 

“Did I ever let you down?” He grins, showing his phone with a party invitation on the screen. 

“Don’t make me say it”, Jack beams and nods, checking the time before heading to the car with November right behind. As they get in, he turns on the engine. “Jim’s getting here soon, but I might not catch him. You stay here and brief him on the plan. I can hold my own with Johnson.”

“Just like the old days, eh?” Mike puts on his belt. “The band’s back together.”

“With a new formation, but yeah”, he mutters, driving back to the hotel. 

“Oh, tell me about it”, Jack wants to roll his eyes at the teasing on Michael’s voice again, but doesn’t. “Actually, you don’t even have to. It’s clear you guys are already at it.”

“Stop talking”, Ryan takes a turn, stepping on the pedal. “She’s too much. You might have noticed.”

“Sounds like your type”, Mike snickers, gaining a wry look from Jack. He shrugs, measuring up the hotel as they arrive. “But I’m sure Jim wouldn’t approve. He never does.”

“I don’t care”, Jack says somewhat defensively, getting out of the vehicle with November. They make their way to the elevator and he presses his floor. “I’m not thinking about that.”

“All these years and you still think you can lie to me, Jack”, Mike positions his hands in front of his body with a smirk, the doors closing as they’re going up. “She’s into you, though. I could feel the tension.”

Jack scoffs in disbelief at his words, his face heating up. “Please, stop talking.”

“You know, it’s none of my business…”

Jack nods impatiently, not looking at him. “It isn’t.”

“But you should go for it. Friendly advice”, Mike gives him a look before they head towards the room. They stop in front of the wooden door as he finishes, “you can thank me later.”

Ryan displayed another eye roll at Michael and got inside, finding nothing but an empty and unmade bed. He stopped in his tracks and pushed Mike down when someone stepped out of the bathroom with a machine gun. They grabbed their guns simultaneously, taking cover behind a small couch next to the door. Before either of them had a chance to shoot, the gunfire suddenly ceased and the sound of a body hitting the floor could be heard in its place. Jack frowned and stood back up swiftly with November, pointing the pistol now at Randy, who stared at them with a desolate look. Her clothes were bloody and her green orbs filled with tears.

He runs in her direction and takes the girl in his arms, whispering, “what happened?”

Johnson sobs and hides herself into his chest, clinging to him for dear life. “He said he was room service… I just opened the door and…” She gulps, crying copiously.

Jack looks at Mike approaching them, still holding her firmly. “It’s okay. You’re okay now.”

The security guards supposed to protect them were nowhere to be seen, and Ryan made the connection quickly; they must have been paid off, just like the ones in Prague. He swore quietly, rocking Randy’s body to try and calm her down. She was shaking like a leaf, but appeared not to be hurt. The crushing weight of guilt hit him once more as he shut his eyes tightly. He shouldn’t have left her alone again. Brushing her cheeks, he cupped her face and wiped off her tears, causing her to smile. She squeezed his hands, as if to confirm she was really okay, and his heart skipped a beat. But as soon as their foreheads touched, the moment was interrupted by November.

“I thought you were a rookie.” Mike hums in confusion, staring at the dead body in front of them while checking his vitals. The guy had a broken neck and arm. He adds, his brows furrowed in her direction, “where did a rookie learn how to kill a guy with one move like that?”

Randy freezes in Jack’s arms and he feels it instantly. He studies the cadaver for a second before turning to stare back at her. He looks lost at first, but the mere prospect of all his suspicions being true causes him to take a step back. He inquires, demanding an explanation, “Johnson?”

She stands there paralyzed, and eventually raises her hands slowly, as a sign of surrender. Ryan points his gun at her again in the blink of an eye and her breath hitches. “Jack, please…”

“Who are you?” Mike chimes in, as his friend’s too shaken up to say anything. His gaze is hard and menacing, nothing like the lighthearted gleam of this morning.

Johnson closes her eyes, shaking her head. “Jack…”

“Who the fuck are you?!” Jack snaps, pressing the barrel of the pistol to her forehead, his hazel orbs now glistening with tears.

Johnson’s desperate face turned into a cold one all of a sudden and she disarmed him easily, pointing Ryan’s glock right back at him. He looked at the girl shocked and hurt, but lifted his arms up in reflex. They stayed in that position until Randy sighed when Mike aimed his own weapon at her. She dropped the firearm and unloaded it masterfully, throwing the rounds on the ground whilst glaring at Jack.

“I’m not your enemy.” She spits, her voice strained with anger. With that, Johnson storms off.

November still tries to go after her and Ryan steps in front of him, holding his shoulders. “Let her go. We got a job to do.”

Mike watches as she gets into the elevator down the hallway and snorts, “well, you did say she was too much.” 

♡♡♡

Jack walked into the event with grace, making the bar his first stop. Mike kept humming a song in his earpiece, but it didn’t bother him as it should, since his mind was elsewhere; lost in blonde locks and lying green eyes. He had no idea where Randy had gone to, and aside from not wanting to think about it now, his bitter side also wouldn’t allow him to care as he did before. She wasn’t some helpless chick doing a brave thing for her principles, after all, like he initially thought. Johnson had her own interests and her own set of skills—which he obviously didn’t know anything about—to achieve them. She’d be fine without him.

“Here he comes”, Ryan mumbles as Jones appears in the VIP section upstairs, surrounded by security and other people he assumed were his associates. He drinks his glass of whisky in one go and keeps his eyes on his target from afar, inspecting the perimeter stealthily. “Please, tell me Jim’s there. We’ll be needing the cavalry soon.”

Instead of Mike’s reply, a familiar voice he hadn’t heard in a few days reaches his ear and Jack tenses up. “Where’s Johnson?” It’s Greer’s first question. No greeting, no nothing. He sighs, trying to think of an excuse not to talk about this now, but his boss is insistent. “You might wanna tell me if you want your cavalry right away.”

“She’s gone”, Ryan growls, not sounding as casual as he would’ve liked to. He strolls towards a group of women and smiles charmingly at them, blending in. They quickly make a gesture for him to come closer and he obliges, muttering on his way, “she left yesterday.”

There is a pause, then Greer mouths, “what happened?” 

“She’s NSA”, he says amidst another deep sigh, forcing a grin when one of the girls pulls him to dance.

Jim didn’t respond and Jack went along with the brunette, always maintaining Jones in his rearview. He wasn’t aware if Greer was too surprised to say something or just didn’t care—seeing as he had been the first one to tell him Randy was only as important as the information she held, anyway. As long as she kept feeding them her intel, whatever happened to her afterwards was irrelevant to the agency. As far as anyone knew, an employee from Logistics should’ve never been on the field with them in the first place. And even in the face of Johnson secretly working for another organ entirely, which was the case, whilst representing a conflict of interests, Ryan reckoned she had been useful enough. At the end of the day, that’s all that mattered. Maybe she’d try to stop him from getting Jones just to put the credit on the National Security Agency’s office, but they would still get Jones. She’d serve her purpose, either way.

As soon as Randy left the hotel, Jack dialled up a nerdy kid in Langley, Josh, who happened to be a self-proclaimed fan of his and asked for a small favour. All the facts he had about Johnson was the Californian accent—unless she was that good at her job, going as far as creating such a round persona for her cover—and a nearly faded tattoo she had on her lower abdomen: 345-27-720. Ryan saw it for the first time when treating her wound, but thought nothing of it. Everything about her appeared so innocent, it went unnoticed. Now, remembering the way she aimed his own weapon at him without hesitation, he felt a bit proud of his photographic memory. 

It was a long shot, still he tried. And the results of the background check didn’t disappoint as they came just minutes before he had to leave for the party. According to California’s military records, the social security number belonged to a Miranda J. Brooks; white, American born, 26 years old, Second Lieutenant with a bachelor’s degree in Strategic Intelligence. The only catch was: Brooks was officially dead for over six years now. The death certificate only mentioned she was killed in combat somewhere in Afghanistan. She had no close family except her grandmother, Mary Brooks, who lived alone in Arizona. And the only thing he could register listening to Josh vomit all of that on the phone was how well she pretended to be such a clueless, defenceless girl while having this background. It only made his admiration for her stronger. And Jack hated it.

He somehow learned about that NSA program a few years back, but didn’t dig deeper on the matter. It wasn’t in their policy to have field agents capacitated in combat—which had been the reason why people in there butt heads with CIA operatives in the past, many a time. So, they allegedly started recruiting deserters and otherwise discharged soldiers to power their own task force, an effort not to be so dependent on the FBI or the State Department anymore. And while Ryan wasn’t sure if it was even a legal practice, he wasn’t a lawyer, therefore that part didn’t concern him. What he couldn’t figure out was why Brooks would fake her own death for this, or have her death faked by the agency itself. Besides, there was no record of a discharge anywhere. It didn’t add up and as soon as Jones was out of the picture, Jack would go looking for answers.

“Wanna go upstairs?” The woman dancing with him grins drunkenly, grabbing back his attention. 

Ryan wrinkles his nose involuntarily when the smell of alcohol hits his face and pulls away politely, faking an apologetic expression. “I’m taken, sorry.”

The woman huffed and pushed him, stumbling back to her friends. Jack watched in silence and frowned as his eyes caught a glimpse of Jones disappearing through a hallway with his men. He warned Mike of his position and followed them suit, the adrenaline already pumping into his veins when he came up the set of stairs and stepped into a quieter area. Ryan took out his gun and pointed it to the ground, sneaking after the terrorist from a safe distance. Hiding behind a wall, he checked his rounds and looked ahead, running back the strategy in his mind.

“Nice suit”, a smooth tone startles him and he holds the pistol at the direction of the sound, gulping faintly when his gaze meets Randy’s—or rather, Miranda’s. 

“What are you doing here?” He lowers his weapon, dragging her behind the wall with him. She’s wearing her usual clothes, and he almost wants to scold her for not even trying to act the part now. When she only smirks in response, Jack tightens his grip around her arm. “Stop playing games, Brooks. I already know everything.”

“You’re so predictable”, she chuckles and harshly shrugs him off, albeit her beam stays. Randy looks up, pretending to be in thought, “although, I didn’t think you would let me go so easily. I thought you’d fight for us, Jackie.” She says dramatically, then laughs.

Ryan’s scowl grows deeper, and he snarls, “Look, I don’t know what your angle is, but if you fuck this up, I’m coming after you next. I don’t care who you work for.” He holds her wrist forcefully and she can’t contain her own glower, trying to shake him off again, this time unsuccessfully. “I’ve had enough of your bullshit.”

“Have you, now?” Johnson hisses and lifts her chin defiantly, his hot breath reaching her cheeks as his nostrils expand in pure rage. “If you were being honest, you’d have reported me to your superiors last night. You didn’t.”

“I have more important things to do”, he grits his teeth when she raises a brow, clearly not believing a word he says. “Now tell me what you’re doing here. I’m not gonna ask again.”

“I told you, I’m not your enemy”, Randy takes a deep breath, her features finally softening. Jack’s grip is looser now, but he keeps glaring. She sighs and tilts her head, cooing, “I know you’re mad at me for lying to you, Jack, but this is my job. You of all people should understand.”

The worst part was he did. Jack saw her and felt like staring into a goddamn mirror every time. He truly, genuinely saw her—no matter who the fuck she even was at that moment—and his body acted on its own as he pulled her by the collar of her shirt and devoured her mouth mercilessly. Ryan hadn’t a clue who he was kissing right now, the rebellious rookie or the dead soldier; all he knew was those were the smoothest lips he ever tasted, and he wasn’t letting go just yet. His tongue made its way between her teeth and he heard a gasp before Johnson pushed him against the wall and pressed herself on him, unashamed of who could see them. 

“Jack, focus.”

Jack ignored Mike as his back hit the cold concrete with a quiet thud. His deep groan seemed to only fuel Randy’s desire and she licked his bottom lip, now guiding the kiss. He panted when her skilful hands dropped to his pants and in a sudden glimpse of clarity, Ryan grabbed her wrists to stop her, but with no brute force this time. She pulled away from the kiss to give him a playful look, her chin completely red with lipstick as she tried to catch her breath, and he wiped his own face unconsciously. They both stared at each other for two seconds before bursting out laughing. He placed his free palm on her hip, bringing her body flush to his again. 

“Jack?”

November’s voice sounds like white noise as Johnson hums smugly, “okay, big man.” Jack’s flustered features cause her to giggle and she opens her mouth to speak again, then shuts it at once when a few men carrying rifles appear in her vision, observing them from afar. 

Ryan’s eyes follow hers and he tucks Randy behind him instinctively, turning off the safety on his glock. “If you have a gun on you, now’s the time to use it.”

“You don’t really think we can take them? We’re outnumbered, greatly”, she scoffs, doing her best to hide his weapon from the bodyguards’ view with her body. She presses herself against Jack and he offers her a puzzled look when her hands carefully put his pistol back into his pants. Johnson brushes her lips on his and he gladly accepts the caress, shivering from head to toe. She whispers, biting his bottom lip, “act drunk.”

“Pfft”, Jack wants to protest that poor excuse of a plan, but it’s too late as the men are now only a few feet away, watching not so subtly. He sighs and palms her butt without warning, getting into character, and fakes a loose smile. “How’s that?”

“Perfect”, she bends towards his touch, kissing him sloppily. Jack squeezes her ass cheek softly in reflex and a moan escapes her. “Jesus…”

“Jack, what the fuck are you doing?!” 

Mike screaming in his piece brings him back to reality and he stares at the ceiling before eyeing her. “I don’t wanna spoil the mood”, Ryan gulps, still rubbing her waist slowly as he tries to get a hold of himself. He clears his throat, “but what’s the endgame here? Take out the voyeurs?”

Randy chuckles and holds his hand, taking him towards the empty hallway again, away from the party. Before they leave, she senses the men are following them. While they stumble side by side surrounded by red painted walls, she mumbles, “there’s a door to your right over there. This is where Jones makes his deals and he’s trying to close one right now with the Russians.”

“I thought you said he gave up on it”, Ryan trails off, maintaining her close to him by wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“Because that’s what I heard, he changed his mind today”, she slows the pace, pushing him to the wall once again with a grin. “I bugged his office while you were away with Mike yesterday, forgot to tell ya.”

“How in the world…”

“And they almost caught me, that was the mess you found”, Randy continues and Jack’s mouth remains agape. She shrugs, pecking him casually, “you play a good drunk, by the way.”

“Were you gonna tell me any of this if we hadn’t figured it out on our own?”, his tone sounds defeated, almost like he’s still hurt. But should he be, really? She said it earlier; Ryan of all people couldn’t judge her for lying. “Would you trust me?”

“Well, I’m telling you now”, loosening up his tie, she puts it around her neck clumsily. “What do you think?”

He smiles. “I think I hate your games, but sometimes they’re fun”, he grabs her by the hair and brings her into another quick kiss.

A loud sound, similar to an explosion, came out of the main room and Randy gasped in surprise, dragging Jack away from all the rubble and the dust. She coughed while running through the wreckage with him, and Jack took it upon himself to protect her face, covering it with his hand. He tried calling for Mike, but he couldn’t hear the answer amidst all the screaming and chaos going on around them. Soon the first shots were fired and not knowing whether it was the police or the terrorists, he took the lead and pulled out his gun as he knocked down the door to Jones’ office, supposedly. They entered the room and were met with the man glowering, his bodyguards ready to open fire. 

Ryan stays alert, aiming his pistol at him and muttering, “Mike, where the hell’s the cavalry?”

Michael snorts, seeming out of breath. “I think your NSA friend can answer that better than me.” 

Jack frowns, shooting a look at Johnson. She appears calm, calmer than she should be in a situation like this. However, just as he’s going to question her about Mike’s affirmation, Randy takes out her gun at last, but doesn’t aim it at anyone. He furrows his brows, “care to fill me in here?” 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Dr. Ryan”, Jones chimes in with a heavy accent, eyeing Randy for a moment, solemnly. “And nice to see you again, miss Johnson.”

“You know each other?” Jack blinks, holding his weapon tightly, his knuckles becoming white. He turns off his safety, now raising his voice, “someone better tell me what’s going on here or I’ll shoot, I swear to God.” 

Jones made mention of speaking up again and a door behind him opened to reveal a tall blonde with two other men surrounding him. Randy knew that was her chance and took the shot without so much as a second thought, hitting the stranger on the forehead. Everyone stood shocked, except Jones. The terrorist’s guys yelled at Johnson to toss her firearm and with one hand gesture coming from him, they went silent. She eventually lowered her pistol and sighed, studying the pool of blood around Viktor’s bald head before she took a look at Jack, who seemed as confused as he had been the day prior. 

Johnson approaches Jones and nods, her expression serious. “Thank you. You’re free to go now.” 

Jack widens his eyes and quickly steps between them, still pointing his weapon at him. “What the hell are you doing, Randy?!”

“I’m sorry, Jack. That was the deal.” The girl hugs her own body and the Czech police finally appear, screaming at everyone to lower their guns. “I’m sorry”, Randy glances at him one last time with a hurt look before she leaves and Jones and his men are cuffed and taken away.

“Jack, are you okay?”

Staring at the dead body still on the ground, Ryan places his hands on his hips, in a pathetic attempt to process what just happened. He stands there for a few seconds, then turns around to step out of the building. “Please tell me she wasn’t in on it, Mike.” He begs in a murmur, measuring up the destruction caused by the explosion earlier. “And where’s Greer, too.”

“I’m right here, Jack.” Jim sighs on the other end. “Don’t worry, Johnson’s not compromised. She was just following her orders.”

“Which were?” He kicks off some dust, finding his tie under a broken block of concrete in the hallway. It must have fallen off Randy as they ran. 

“Catching Viktor Vasiliev.” Jack walks among the damage with a sour face, closing his eyes when he finds the woman he danced with earlier that night. She’s dead. Greer adds, “he deals in chemical weapons and was the one behind the Prague bombings all along. Jones was her informant.”

“Catching?” Ryan deadpans. “She killed him, Greer.”

“Those were her orders…”

“You knew about all this.” Ryan reckons, with a more consternated tone as he cleans up the dust off his tie and gets out of the main room—or what’s left of it—, trying not to think of the medics tending to the dead bodies as he passes. “You knew it and you didn’t tell me.”

Jim grunts, “I only found out when I arrived here and the NSA director gave me a call explaining everything. You already had your plan, Jack, and I know you well enough to say with confidence that you would have gone with it anyway. No matter what I said.” 

He scoffs, shaking his head at Greer’s words even though he can’t be seen. Reaching the sidewalk, Jack sees Randy is talking to a police officer from a distance. She’s laughing at something he’s saying while Ryan purses his lips, unable to take his eyes off her figure. “Now what?”

“Now we’re going back to Langley. Our job here’s done, we helped as we could with manpower, but the intel was solely NSA’s. It’s their case now.”

“It has always been.” There’s bitterness in his words, and his scowl is inevitable when he remembers everything. All the lies. “What about Jones?”

“He’s coming with us. He made a deal.”

Jack sighs, looking down at his shoes. “And Johnson?”

Jim pauses. Ryan watches as Randy disappears in a police car without looking back, and he can’t ignore the lump in his throat when the answer comes in his ear, “Johnson who?”

♡♡♡

Randy’s always been in love with Arizona. There was just something about the quietness of the desert, and the way the roads stretched endlessly when driving back home. She hadn’t seen her grandmother in such a long time. A real nice scolding would be the first thing waiting for her as soon as Johnson opened the door to her granny’s trailer, she just knew it; yet it only added to her anxiousness to finally seeing the iconic “welcome to Phoenix” sign on the side of the road. 

Singing a tune along with the radio, she thought back to what she left behind in Europe a week ago. Deciding to quit had been a big step for her, but she was never happier to make a decision. She’s always hated jetlag, anyway. And whenever Johnson saw Jack again, if ever, she would just have to thank him for indirectly leading her to discover this. Turns out the adrenaline wasn’t doing it for her anymore. And albeit it was all she had known until that point in her life, maybe it’s time for a change. Prague taught her as much. Even through the moments of tension, somehow connecting to some ex-Marine’s need for the hustle of going after the bad guys made her notice that deep inside, she was tired of it herself. That didn’t mean switching to “normal”—hell no. 

Quieter, mayhaps. 

A deep sigh escaped her lips and she shook her head at no one in particular, rolling down her windows and smiling as the wind hit her face. Reciting the lyrics to the song a bit louder now, she turned the volume all the way up and stepped on the pedal, patting her door from the outside to follow the beat. Love’s never worked out for her even as Miranda Brooks back in the day. So there was no surprise on her part when the brief romantic getaway with Jack Ryan had a tragic ending—and by tragic, she meant not being physically able to say goodbye to him, face to face. “I hope you’ll understand someday”, was the email Randy sent, and off she went to the States, in a flight separate from his. 

With Jones now in custody—his deal was merely to reduce his sentence, since he did actively help plan other bombings before deciding to do the right thing after Prague—, everything should be fine. Except nothing felt like it, not to Randy. Being jobless and alone was a new thing, so she reckoned it was just a matter of adjusting. Taking a peek at herself in the rearview mirror, the girl thought of changing her hair. The last time she’d been a brunette was prior to enlisting. Another deep sigh left her throat as she rolled the window back up and turned off the radio. 

Who was she kidding? 

No amount of pretending not to care would save her from feeling like the worst person in the world. The whole thing with Ryan was just too fucking much, funnily enough, even for Johnson. Which was beyond her in itself, because lying to people came easy for her, it had to, since it was what she did for a living. But reminiscing about the disappointment in his eyes when she killed Viktor in front of him made her stomach turn every time. How did she come to consider his opinion of her that much? Randy had no clue. Still, she stubbornly persisted in the idea that everything happened as it should have. She accomplished her mission and Jack accomplished his, too. She was well and breathing, after all. He did his job. And without being deceitful, unlike her. 

“You bitch!” Granny exclaims as soon as she spots her granddaughter’s car on the road. She’s in front of her house, wiping her hands with a kitchen cloth as she comes down the little steps before Randy even pulls up.

Laughing out loud, Johnson gets out and runs toward her, squeezing the old woman in her arms. “Granny! Oh, God. How I missed you. You look so beautiful.”

“Liar!” She chuckles, but her eyes are filled with tears. Staring at the rusty pick-up truck behind them, Mary shakes her head in disapproval. “I can’t believe you’re still driving that piece of shit, Miranda. That’s why you never visit your grandmother anymore! You’re probably afraid it’s gonna explode on the way.”

“Shut up, she’s family”, Johnson giggles and kisses her white hair, still holding her close. The scent of home made her heart flutter in her chest. She teases, “c’mon, I’m hungry. You better have made me pancakes!”

“Oh, he did!” Mary hums happily, opening a grin from ear to ear, and Randy raises a brow in inquiry. She shrugs, walking to the trailer along Brooks. “Your friend. He said you were gonna meet him here.”

“My friend?” The girl frowns and touches the gun under her jacket automatically, but as soon as she takes it out, her alert eyes spot the so-called friend sitting on the little couch, sipping a coffee, and stops in her tracks. “Jack?” Johnson breathes out, astonished.

With a shaven face and a sweet smile, Ryan blinked slowly at her. Her knees suddenly went weak and she took a step back, trying to take in his presence. It hadn’t been so long since she last saw him, yet it felt like an eternity. He wore a baby blue shirt and some jeans, and her mind took note of how casual he looked out of his work persona. Her mouth stayed agape as she searched for the words to speak. They all ran out on her. 

“You don’t look happy to see me”, Jack finally murmurs in amusement, causing Mary to exchange a knowing look with him as he stands up, putting his hands in his front pockets. “How are you, Randy?” 

“I’m…” She trails off, even more baffled by his soft and amicable tone now. She really thought he hated her guts. “Jack, I…”

“She’s better now, dear, that’s for sure”, granny chimes in before she can finish, doing a thumbs up. 

Randy’s cheeks go red and she widens her eyes. “Granny!”

“What? I’m old, but I notice these things, Miranda. You like the boy.” Mary smiles and now Jack’s the one blushing and laughing awkwardly. “And he likes you too, for that matter.” After giving Johnson another one of her teasing looks, she points outside and pats Ryan’s shoulder softly. “I’m gonna leave you two alone now. You go talk and make up, otherwise there’s no pancakes for nobody.”

Randy can’t hold back another laughter as her granny steps out of the trailer with the tray full of their breakfast. She’s really not kidding. Glancing at Jack again, he’s still slightly flustered, crossing his arms while raising a brow. Johnson squints, “what?”

“An email? Really?” He asks, his expression wry as he sits back down, resting his elbows on his knees. It’s almost comical how big he looks in that position, especially seated on her grandmother’s small couch. “A text would’ve been warmer.”

“I didn’t wanna hurt you again, Jackie”, even though she tries to make light of it, there’s a sincerity to her words that’s hard not to notice. Taking a seat beside him, Johnson leans back and sighs. “You know, I quit the agency.”

He figured as much, especially because Greer seemed a little sad when questioned about Randy while they had dinner last night. Ryan smirks, not wanting to miss the opportunity, “which one?”

Johnson snickers and nods, comprehensive of his sassiness. “Both, actually. I’m a civilian now.” Looking down at her boots, she bites her lips in thought. 

His orbs fall to her lap, his voice going lower, “why?”

“I miss my granny”, Randy smiles and shrugs, tilting her head. He hums along and she comes a little closer, resting her chin on his shoulder. Jack sniggers, his hand flying to her knee in response. “How about you, why did you come here?”

Jack paused and his breath hitched. He should’ve seen the question coming, but somehow didn’t prepare for it. Why did he come, really? It was lost on him, if he was being honest. There were a lot of points left unexplained about her that still bugged him; like the illegal task force run by NSA, or even why Johnson was pronounced dead and given another identity when she hadn’t even been discharged. What did she do while working undercover for two national organs at the same time, exactly? What were her real motives, her ideals, her drives? Ryan knew this was his chance, perhaps the only one, to clear things up with Randy. However, with green orbs watching him expectantly, his common sense turned into goo. 

“To say goodbye, properly.” Jack’s aware he sounds a lot huskier than necessary, closing his eyes when her face comes nearer. He stammers, gazing at her intensely, “you think I’m allowed that much?” 

She clicks her tongue in jest, giving a head shake. “Jim’s not gonna like it.” 

“Greer gave me the rundown on Randy Johnson.” The corner of his lip curls up as Jack goes in for a tender kiss. He whispers, pulling her into his arms, “he never said anything about Miranda Brooks.”

Randy’s grin got bigger as she let herself be held by him. Much was unsaid between them, but in her experience, there wasn’t a thing in this world that couldn’t get sorted out through a nice chat and some pancakes in sunny Arizona. Besides, who was to say the change she needed in her life wouldn’t be brought by Jack Ryan in his shining armour?

[not-a-big-slay]

[supercap2319]

Y/N came back to the ground as Mr. Fantastic and the Human Torch joined him. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. "You did exceptionally well, Y/N." Reed Ricards smiled.

"Thank you, Mr. Ricards."

"No need for formalities, kid. Call him 'Reed.' I certainly do. Or Mr. Killjoy." Johnny grins.

Reed opened his mouth to say something, but his cellphone rang, and he answered it. "Sorry, but that was Susan. Something's come up. Johnny, would you watch Y/N? Give him whatever he needs." Then he was walking towards the door.

"Oh, don't worry, Reed. I'll give him exactly what he needs." Johnny said with a filthy smirk.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

manners (jack ryan x female oc)

summary: “I heard a lot about you.” Méndez tilts her head to study his features. “The Marine turned analyst turned American hero.”

warnings: swearing, smut(fingering, butt stuff, oral, slightly bdsmish), angst, enemies to lovers(sorta), terrorism, violence, blood, suicide mention

words: 2.4k

Being a terrorist is tough shit. Not that Grace cared for the work—her ultimate goal was ever present in her mind, after all. Those who had taken everything from her would soon pay for all the pain she endured all these years. But sometimes, exhaustion crept in her core. That was one of those times.

“God, just shut the fuck up”, she sighs, shaking her head at one of the goons her employer had found on E-bay, most likely. “Get this over with by tomorrow. I don’t wanna hear about Jack Ryan anymore.”

Grace knew who he was, it was impossible not to with the work she did. Jack was one of the self-proclaimed “good guys” who embodied the war on terror, and that made him her worst enemy by default. She had taken this path because of life’s circumstances, it’s not like she longed to be a terrorist from an early age, but Méndez wasn’t letting some boy scout destroy everything she built in the last five years so easily. 

Somehow he had tracked one of her accounts overseas, more specifically on Curaçao, and had been breathing down her neck ever since. And with Ryan only getting closer, nerves were starting to be a problem in the organisation—she was surrounded by weak men with no control of their emotions, so that wasn’t a surprise. Looking up at the cloudy sky, Grace kissed her crucifix and closed the windows to her hotel room. If everything went according to plan, Jack Ryan would be dead by morning and no longer a threat to her empire.

Obviously, that didn’t happen. Waking up slowly, the first thing Méndez saw as she opened her eyes was the barrel of a gun pointed in her direction. The cold metal touched the tip of her nose and she raised her hands in reflex, staring at Jack’s face angrily. He had a similar look, except he appeared not to have slept for quite some time, his skin dripping with sweat, blood and what appeared to be mud.

“Rise and shine.” Ryan hisses, pressing the pistol on her nose slightly harder before putting it down, hazel eyes still watching her like a hawk. “Get up. Get dressed.”

Grace remains silent and obeys his commands, slowly sitting up and putting on her robe. “Am I being arrested?”

“Not yet.” He states with a tight voice, as if he’s containing himself from snapping at her. “First, you’re gonna confess. I wanna know everything.”

“Don’t we all?” She fakes a smile and he frowns more. Grace leans with her hands on the mattress, crossing her legs. “I assume you killed my men?”

“They’re incapacitated.” Ryan corrects with a sarcastic tone, sitting beside her. “Most of them, anyway.”

“I heard a lot about you.” Méndez tilts her head to study his features. Even covered in dirt and blood, his orbs look so… hypnotic. “The Marine turned analyst turned American hero.”

“Don’t make me blush now”, he mumbles nonchalantly, and that makes her giggle. “Skip the introduction, Méndez.”

“As you wish”, Grace shrugs and takes a deep breath, staring at the white wall in front of them. “I would have died for this country. I believed in it with all my heart, until it killed the only people I ever loved. My family. And for nothing.” Her voice falters and she sits up abruptly, but Jack takes her by arm, stopping her from walking away. 

“Really? That’s your sob story?” He hardens his jaw and pulls her closer, their faces almost touching. “Your friends died on the job and you killed thousands of innocents as revenge? What about holding the actual people responsible for their deaths accountable?!”

“What kind of fucking world do you live in, Jack?!” She screams right back, and his grip on her arm tightens. “Do you really think those guys sitting behind desks, signing death reports are ever gonna pay?! They meant nothing to them! They’re numbers! Just like the people I’ve killed. I’m giving them right back.” She finishes with resolve, glaring at him.

Jack scoffs and lets go of her, shaking his head in disbelief and pure rage. “Do you hear yourself? You sound crazy.”

“Maybe I am. I don’t expect you to understand. You still believe the shit they feed you.” Grace spits on the floor and Ryan’s nostrils expand for a split second before he pushes her against the wall, holding her neck with his forearm. “Do it. Fucking do it!” She struggles, widening her eyes and digging her nails into his skin. Jack steps away angrily and growls in frustration. “What are you really doing here, Jack? If you won’t kill me, then why are you keeping this charade?!” Méndez gasps for air, supporting herself on the mattress.

Jack turned away from her for a moment, raking his hands through his already messy hair and exhaling deeply. He spinned around to face Grace again, taking slow and calculated steps towards her. The agent grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, their bodies almost pressed together. His face was filled with hatred and tiredness. He’d been running after her for four days now, and his current mental state wasn’t his best. Pulling out his gun again, Ryan grazed the barrel over her abdomen until it reached her cheek.

“Maybe I should do it.” He whispers against her neck, his voice dripping with anger and frustration. “I should just kill you and be done with this whole thing.”

“Why won’t you, then?” She shoots right back, her eyes filled with tears, albeit her expression is as hateful as his. Jack’s gaze falters for a moment, and she’s not sure whether it’s from her tears or her words. The woman is trembling against him, her wrists desperately trying to free herself from his grip.

Pause.

“I don’t know.” Jack mutters through gritted teeth, his hands tightening around her arms, pinning her against the wall. He feels the sudden urge to pull away from her, but instead, his body moves on its own and he comes even closer. His weapon stays pointed at her, poking her cheek slightly.

Grace’s breath hitches and there’s the hint of a smirk on her lips, “you do know.”

Another pause. Ryan threw his pistol away and it fell on the ground with a heavy thud before he cupped her face almost delicately, joining their mouths in an urgent, sloppy, aggressive kiss. He pushed Méndez against the wall harder and deepened the contact, their teeth clashing against each other from time to time. With a growl, his palms reached for her waist, pressing her abdomen flush to his. And just as quickly, in a sudden lapse of reason, the agent broke the kiss and took several steps back, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

Jack swallows hard and tries to speak, but the words feel like sandpaper in his throat. As Grace catches her breath in silence, her dangerous eyes glued on his figure, he gulps, “no.”

“You…”

“Shut up.” He grumbles and turns her around harshly, cuffing her with a swift movement. From this angle, her nipples appeared slightly under the crevice of her loosened robe, but he shook his head and looked away. “You’re under arrest, Grace Méndez.”

She only scoffed as Ryan pushed her toward the door, opening it and walking with her down the stairs. They reached the parking lot and he shoved her into the car, cuffing her to the hand brake in silence. His gaze couldn’t bear to cross hers as he stepped into the vehicle and started driving, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he attempted to forget what happened just minutes prior. Still, Jack kept stealing glances at the woman every now and then, and every time his eyes met hers, he would look away. Her hair was messy and her robe remained loosely put on, making it impossible for him to not steal peeks at her supple chest.

He clears his throat, breaking the awkward silence. “We’ll be at the base in about twenty minutes.”

“No rush.” She says with a sarcastic smile, her tone defiant and somewhat unbothered. As they stop at a light, Méndez quips, “that was your first time, huh?”

Jack sighs heavily and his hands grip the steering even tighter. “Shut it, Méndez.” He spits, avoiding her gaze once again. He can feel his blood boiling at her mocking words. After a beat, he swallows hard and forces himself to look back at her, his curiosity getting the best of him. “What makes you think that?”

“You are the ultimate boy scout. Surely you’re not going around kissing terrorists on the job.” Her voice is casual as her orbs fall on him for the first time, her chin up. “Unless it’s all an act?”

“Jesus, will you just shut it?” Ryan grits his teeth harder, his foot unconsciously speeding up the car.

Grace can’t help but laugh, and as she glances at the volume on his pants, she murmurs huskily, “pull over.”

Jack freezes momentarily at her words, his breath hitching as his trousers only get more strained. He shoots her a brief warning look, keeping his eyes on the road. “Shut. Up.” He growls again, but the desperation in his voice betrays him.

Méndez’s free hand creeps up his thigh suggestively, undoing his zip without much ado. “Pull over.” She insists, this time much softer, offering him an almost fraternal smile. “Let me help.”

Ryan let out a surprised huff at her skilful movements, biting the inside of his cheek as his foot pushed harder on the gas paddle. He quickly swerved the car off to the side of the road, amongst some woods, and stood statue, glaring at Grace in a mix of ire and necessity. She grinned once more and eyed her cuffed palm, causing him to shake his head vehemently.

“No.”

“I need two hands to do the work.” She hums with furrowed brows, yet her demeanour is of someone who’s negotiating any ordinary deal. 

The agent looked up, perhaps somehow trying to find the answer to his doubts in the orange sky. Jack let out another impatient huff and his eyes darted down to her cuffed wrists, his hands clenching into fists. He cursed under his breath and glared at her, his mind debating on the choice he’s about to make. With a heavy sigh, he reached over and unlocked the cuffs with a quiet click. 

Grace grunted in a quick acknowledgement of this show of trust, kneeling on her seat and leaning down towards his lap carefully. As she did so, her robe fell off ever so slightly, exposing her bare butt. Jack hesitated before rubbing her soft flesh in small circles as she bent over more, pricking up her ass in the air and moaning in approval. His cock throbbed under her hand as she squeezed it, oozing his pre-cum and licking the tip teasingly. He shut his eyes tightly and groaned, gripping the wheel until his knuckles were white.

“If you keep this up, I’m gonna cum”, he says through a shaky breath, giving her right cheek a playful, loud slap.

She chuckled deeply and finally swallowed his veiny meat, bobbing her head up and down rapidly. He threw his head back in ecstasy and let his rough digit enter her tight, spasming hole at last. He felt her tensing up around his index and gently started poking it in and out of her ass, using his pinkie to smear the wetness over her puffy lips. She groaned in approval, moving her other hand around his balls to give him a slow massage. His whole body shivered and he smacked her buns again, this time more aggressively, leaving his handprint on the smooth, pale skin.

Fucking the very person he was assigned to arrest wasn’t on his plans, but as a wise man once told him; you can’t really plan on the heart—or in this case, on the penis. And Ryan now not only knew it, he even commended himself for his own self-awareness while Grace choked on his dick, her warm throat assaulting him shamelessly. He kept his gaze up ahead on the desert road, and the sun was already coming up at the horizon. Soon that moment would end and they’d have to go back to real life. He wrinkled his nose at the thought, trying to concentrate on the way she swirled her tongue on the pink tip skilfully.

How could the worst woman he’s ever known make him feel so good, pleasuring him with her mouth like that? It felt criminal—well, it was, he corrected himself in a passing moment of clarity. Still, his large hand groped her ass again as he came like a fountain in her lips. She sucked him dry until the last drop of cum and sat back up with a smile, her chin glistening with saliva and semen. Jack gulped quietly and nodded in acknowledgement, offering her a silent “thank you”. 

“Is that how it goes?” Méndez laughs, wiping her face clean with a tissue she found in the glove compartment. “Where are you manners, Dr. Ryan?” 

Jack snorts, blushing a little. “You’re right.” He clears his throat and straightens up, putting his belt back on and turning on the engine. “Thanks.” 

Grace smiles and helps him out with his pants, their hands bumping. He looks up and finds her mischievous brown eyes; so different from the cold ones he came to know through file reports and TV’s breaking news. “What now?” 

“I don’t have to tell you”, Jack sighs, yet his voice has no animosity at all, despite the blunt nature of his words. They know how this will go. They knew from the start. 

Grace only hums in response, putting on her belt too. “Then I reckon I won’t see you again.”

“I don’t think so”, he gets back on the road, stepping on the pedal. He grabs the pair of cuffs and hands it to her, not taking his attention off the street. “Put them back on.” She obeys, clicking the round metal around her wrists once again. But just as she’s gonna speak, the vehicle comes to halt and she raises her brows, giving him a puzzled look. Jack closes his eyes for a few seconds before he opens her door at once and gesticulates outside. His voice is gentle, but firm. “Go.” 

Grace left without hesitation. He watched as she ran into the woods with her hands cuffed and couldn’t help but chuckle dryly to himself. Jim always wanted his job, anyway. Might as well give him an early Christmas present.

[drewsephrry]

okay so i have come to a realization

if you don't know, i am a huge fan of sitcoms (any recs are welcome)

so i was rewatching the office and my favorite character has always been jim and i couldn't help but notice (don't call me crazy) that he looks a lot like drew

so i did a side by side to send to one of my best friends and she agreed with me on this

so i want your opinions too!!

[joyceyayo]

Her (18+)

Jim Halpert x reader short story by joyceyayo

Soft kisses land on my neck, and the lower half of his body rises and sinks into me. A slow and tender motion, making me whimper every time he falls and meets my skin.

A/n This is a 2020 rewrite ;) Enjoy :) Thank you sm to everyone who has added the story to the reading list and supported me through my sabbatical

      The camera follows us as we walk down the hotel hallway to our room. We're a bit drunk and laugh a lot at stupid things. I almost can't breathe because of his silly comment when he pulled out the door key. I let out a string of hums as the door swung open. The camera follows us in. Jim turns around and motions for them to leave. They step out, and I walk into the room. I shut the door behind us.

He touches my shoulder in a manner I didn't expect, slowly feeling it and letting go to continue walking. I'm very excited this time, like the first time we did it. I walk over to him to kiss him, but he picks me up and pins me to the wall. I feel myself get wet just looking him in the eye. He looks me up and down in a somewhat purposely degrading way. I give him puppy dog eyes, and he adjusts me to stabilize me. His soft lips touch mine and slowly move; I lose myself in them

'God, this night is ours. Ours to never think about her again.'

He slowly grinds on me, and his effect on me is embarrassing. Every time he rubs up against me, I have to roll my eyes back and curl my toes not to moan. He gives one more, and I try to stop my legs from shaking as best as I can, but I'm in pure bliss as I reach my high. I stop kissing momentarily and pull the hair on the nape of his neck. He can never know, though, because it's humiliating how that finished me. But he doesn't notice and keeps going, driving me crazy. I start kissing back again as I calm down. He lets me down, and I almost fall. he walks over to the bed, and I drool over his silhouette. I swiftly step over to the bed as well. He looks down at me and lifts my chin. I now have a unique angle on him. His face is straight, and he's looking down at me. He touches my shoulder again and pushes me down to my knees. My breathing hitches as he undoes his belt.

"Get your shirt off too." I do so as his pants slide down his legs. I try to hide my smile because he'll make fun of me. I pull down his boxers, revealing him. He unbuttons his shirt as he gets excited. I wrap my hand around it, and it's warm in my palm. I gently put my lips around the tip before sliding them off; he rolls his eyes back. I lick it a bit and give it some attention. I look up, and he's screwing his eyes shut and biting his lip, struggling not to move, probably because of the direct stimulation. I decide to stop torturing him and just throat him. I got him to moan. I look up again, and he's embarrassed; he pushes my head back down. I hold in laughter. It was so hot, though. He's vocal with words rather than moans. But I'm the other way around.

The only words I can remember ever saying during sex with him unprovoked were, 'Jim, right there!' it was the first time we were together, and he went on and on. The more I moaned, the more he added to the answer.

Other than words of encouragement like 'yes' and 'harder,' I moan.

'Aw, this the first time you've gotten good dick?'

'That's right, take it.'

'Don't fake it, don't do any of that porn shit' I didn't have to fake it.

He runs his hands through my hair and then wipes my tears-stained cheeks. There he goes again, with words

       "I like it when you cry like this." I struggle to catch my breath as he looks down at me.

      "Why didn't you finish?" I ask, and he lifts me from my knees. He proceeds to start unbuckling my belt. He kisses up my neck, gets to my ear, and whispers.

      "Because I'm gonna fuck you" those words make me melt. His tongue on my neck, his hands working on my clothes, and him leading me to the bed. He lifts me from my underarms, getting me level with his head. He lifts his leg by bending his knee and placing it on the foot of the bed. It's swift, and before I know it, he's on top of me on the bed. I take a breath from his lips to unhook my bra. When I do, I see his eyes closed, and to keep his lips occupied, he mindlessly drifts to my stomach. He finds himself going lower and lower, not being able to resist. He knows I feel insecure with him doing that to me... But this is somehow so persuasive.

      He slowly pulls down my panties and reaches up to rub my tits. I awkwardly giggle and try telling myself to resist, but I can't. I bite my lip as his hands slide to my inner thighs and pull them open. He takes his thumb and rubs my entrance; he slides up and finds the most sensitive part of my clit. Just the slight pressure made me cringe. He started rubbing, and I shot my hands to his.

      "Jim," he stops; he knew what he was doing. He laughs. He tongues it a bit, and I bite my lip. It's very intense but friendly. I roll my eyes back as he licks me open. I repeat his name, now in a different tone. I'm unwinding, and he looks up. I immediately start acting all pretty for him. He sort of senses my bullshit and starts going faster. I arch my back and grip the bedsheets, about to cry. he smiles into the licks and laughs a bit. I move my hands to his hair and start to shake a bit. He goes in one repeating motion until I reach my high.

I throw my head back, and my vision blurs. My mouth is open, and I'm not making any noise. I'm shaking while slowly moving my legs around, bending, and straightening them.

After I'm done, he slides his hands to my shoulders, hovers over me, and kisses my cheek. He smiles into the kiss. The kisses trail to my neck, and my mouth slightly parted. He runs his hands through my hair to let me calm down.

       He pushes the tip against me; it doesn't go in without much pressure, so it's kind of like a warning.

      "Can I?" He asks, and I nod aggressively, putting my hand on his lower back and pushing slightly. He gets the hint and slowly enters. He thrusts in and out slowly.

Soft kisses land on my neck, and the lower half of his body rises and sinks into me. A slow and tender motion, making me whimper every time he falls and meets my skin.

"Harder," I quietly whisper, and he delivers. I let out a closed-mouth squeak at the first hard thrust. His eyes are still closed, kissing my neck. I wonder if he's thinking about anything. This is when he sits up and takes my legs. He puts them over his shoulders while his eyes roll back a bit. It looks like his soul comes back to his body when he looks down at me with a sort of death stare; whatever it is, it's turning me the fuck on. I'm starting to lose my mind under his control. He smiles and puts his middle and forefinger in my mouth. I moan again.

"You like that, baby?" he asks seductively, and I curve my eyebrows and nod. "Okay, then say thank you?" he demands, and I tear up a bit from how hard and fast he's going.

"Thank you," I slur the words because his fingers are in my mouth.

"Good girl," he rewards, and I start to get stiff due to the knot in my stomach. I widen my eyes and look at him; he smiles and starts going harder than ever. He watches as my eyes roll to the back of my head "cum for me, baby" I begin to have convulsions when he cums, and I shake at the sensation. I relax, and he falls on top of me. He pulls out, and I get up to pee.

He follows behind me and hugs my shoulders from behind. I turn my head, and he kisses me. He starts the shower and leads me in after it gets hot. I reach up to his neck and pull him down for a kiss. I try to get more aggressive with it so he gets the idea. Before I know it, I'm being spun around so my back faces him. He pulls me against him with one hand on my waist and one on my neck; I'm always amazed at how hard he can get back to back because I can feel him against my ass right now.

"You want it?" I try to nod, and he chuckles a little. He immediately slides in and starts thrusting, using the placement of his hands for support and the water as a lubricant. No matter how often I feel him, it's always like heaven. The skin slapping is the only thing filling my ears other than:

"Is that good for you?"

"Mmm, you can't even speak"

"Aw, you want more?"

"Needy slut"

꧁꧂

Jim's pov:

Her eyes are closed, and she's lying on my chest. She stays still and winces a bit when she moves. I get worried.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" I ask, concerned. She opens her tired eyes and shakes her head.

"No, just sore."

"Sorry," I say and rub her abdomen. She looks up and smiles before drifting to sleep.

My eyes slowly open to see her face. She's sound asleep and now lying on top of me. Her breathing on my neck relaxed and could put me back to sleep immediately. She smells like fresh-picked flowers, making me close my eyes and try to stop the thoughts. 'You don't wish it was her,' I think.

"y/n," I whisper. Her eyes flutter open, and her lips form a smile. I run my fingers through her hair. Her eyes close again, and she hugs me tighter. I tap her back and speak. "Come on, we need to get ready, baby," I say softly and sweetly when she kisses me. I smile and move my lips to hers. My hands are on her face as she gets lost in my lips. She bites my bottom lip and then gives it a peck. I'm just melting. I gently pull away, and she whines a tiny bit. Her head falls back on my chest

"But I just want to stay here with you." She whimpers a bit, and I rub her back.

      "I know," I say, and she looks up at me with lust. "But we have interviews." I let her down, and she groans while sitting up, and I laugh.

"I'll go get us breakfast," she says softly while walking to her bag. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You sure?" I ask while stretching and getting up.

"Of course," she says while getting her clothes out. Once she stands back up, I give her a wrap-around hug from behind. She giggles.

"You have the cutest laugh," I say, and she blushes. "What are you in the mood to eat?" she whispers. I kiss her cheek and huskily flirt with her.

      "You," she playfully scoffs as I kiss her ear.

      "you know I love you, but I'm starving, and we just showered before we went to sleep last night," she contradicts. I breathe through my nose and continue the small kisses, making my hands tender. I can feel her temptation.

      "Can we mess around just a little?" I ask in an animated, whiny voice while swaying. She turns around and kisses me. "I don't want to be all sore again."  I laugh and let her go.

"I'm kind of in the mood for a croissant," I say, and she nods. We get dressed, and she leaves to get food.

I collapse on the bed and think. 'Jesus fucking Christ, man, you're with a woman who's treated you the best out of everyone you've been with, and you still miss her?!' I'm a terrible person.

꧁꧂

She walks in the door, and I smile at her.

"Luckily for you, they had one croissant left," she looks at me. You look so handsome," she kisses my freshly shaved cheek. She hands me the croissant in the box.

      "Thank you, baby," I whisper, and she lays down. I turn and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Tired?" I ask, and she nods with tired eyes and yawns.

      "You wore me out last night," she says softly, and I laugh and crawl over her. She plays with my tie, rolling it between her fingers.

       "Is it bad that I like that? I feel like it gives me power," I tell, and she grins.

      "Not at all." She pulls me in for a kiss by my tie, and I roam my hands on her. She pushes my chest away. "I'm hungry," she whispers with a smile; she's so beautiful. I move off of her, and she gets her bagel. We eat and get ready for our interviews. The perfect night, followed by an ideal day

A/n ty for reading :) Thank you to everyone who has added the story to the reading list and supported me through my sabbatical

[venusjaynie]

Jim Halpert x fem!reader

CW: anxiety, panic attacks, petnames (lots of), Jim just overall being a big softie sweetheart.

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

It's just a regular day at Dunder Mifflin, Scranton. You're at your desk clump that you share with Dwight and Jim, the latter of the two being your doting boyfriend of 2 months.

Jim and you are really happy, considering you've had a stupid schoolgirl crush ever since the moment you started working at D.M. as a saleswoman, which was 3 years ago. However, you're yet to open up about your anxiety to Jim. It's not because you don't trust him, or that you're embarrassed about it, but you just don't want him to worry about you more than he already does, and occasionally you feel like a burden.

A lot of the time, your anxiety comes in fits, and nothing in particular sets it off. It tends to just spring on you when you least expect it, like right now, apparently. One minute you're on a sales call, negotiating prices and quantities, and the next, your palms are sweaty and you can't catch a breath.

Jim doesn't seem to notice straight away, which is good. It means you can just slip out of the room to quickly calm yourself down before anyone even notices that you're gone. You wipe your sweaty palms off on you skirt, and try to take a deep breath, but you're clearly struggling more than you thought, because the inhale is awfully strangled and causes both Jim and Dwight to look up from their desktops. You smile at the both of them, trying to remain as collected as possible externally, while internally your heart is going a mile a minute.

You stand up and decide to head to the break room, without announcing the reason for your sudden departure. Your hands shake as you walk, and you're trying your hardest to take slow, deep breaths - however, you're failing miserably.

Pam eyes you wearily as you walk past her desk and out of the room. She catches Jim's eye as he worriedly watches you hurry from your seat. Pam counts to 10 in her head, just like you previously told her to do when she notices that your anxiety is getting the better of you. She doesn't look at Jim as she stands, and carefully makes her way over to the door of the break room.

Jim Halpert, being the caring boyfriend he is, takes it upon himself to follow Pam and make his best attempt at helping you out, whatever the problem may be. When he catches up to her however, she gives him a stern look, which he responds to with a confused one.

You burst into the break room and sit down on one if the chairs, not noticing Pam and Jim just outside of the door.

"Jim, just stay out here, I'll tell you when you can come in." Pam tells him.

"No, Pam, look at her. I need to go in there and make sure she's okay." He glances at your hunched frame, your shoulders shaking and your hands braced on your knees.

"Listen, I'm her best friend, and we both know she won't want you to see her like this." Pam tries to reason with him, but he looks at her, confused by what she meant when she said, 'she won't want you to see her like this' Why can't he see you like this? You're clearly not doing well and he just wants to help you.

"I'm her boyfriend, Pam, and I just want to make sure she's okay. Is that really such a crime?" He says, slightly exasperated from her lack of cooperation.

Pam sighs and puts a hand on Jim's shoulder making him look down at her.

"I promise you can come in soon, just need to make sure she's okay with you being there with her, alright?" He nodded. "She loves you, but she is obviously going through something, and I've seen her like this before, so I know how to help her." Pam goes to open the door, but Jim grabs her arm.

"If you don't tell me to come in there in 2 minutes, I'm going to anyway." She rolls her eyes at his stubbornness and opens the door.

You look up through teary eyes, and her heart breaks a fraction.

"Hi." She almost whispers. You try to reply, but all that leaves your mouth is a choked sob. She immediately sits down beside you and rests a comforting hand on your back, rubbing in small circles to soothe you.

While you know Pam is trying her best, she's not what you need right now. You try to take a deep breath, and she understands that you're about to speak, so she takes the liberty of asking first.

"What do you need? What can I do for you?"

"I- I just need Jim." You say quietly, and you can see her nodding and motioning at the door, telling him to come in. You can hear the click of the door but you don't respond, trying to focus on breathing. You feel Pam's hand leaving your back and you assume she left the room to let Jim help you out.

Jim kneels down in front of you and goes to take your right hand in both of his, but then he remembers that some people don’t like to be touched in a situation like this so he hesitiates.

"Hey, pretty girl." He says it so softly. "Is it okay if I touch you?"

You nod.

"I know you're trying to focus on your breathing right now, so I'm just gonna do this," he slowly takes your hand and guides it to his chest. "I need you to match my breathing. Can you do that for me, babe?"

You shake your head, the task seemingly impossible. You try to distract yourself by focusing on the butterflies that flutter in your stomach at the pet-names, but that doesn't seem to work.

"C'mon, you wanna at least try? You're doing so good already."

All he gets in reply is an ugly sob. His heart breaks for you. He knows you've been struggling with panic attacks for a while now, even without you openly telling him, and the first and only time he helped you through one, you got all embarrassed and closed off afterwards and he had to try to assure you that your reaction to certain situations wasn't anything to feel shameful of.

You look up at him, and try to take a deep breath as he watches you encouragingly.

"Attagirl, you're doing so well." He starts to take long, exaggerated breaths in hopes that you copy him, and after a few minutes of encouragement, you semi-successfully do so.

Your slight progress, however, is thrown away when Michael starts banging on the door of the break room, yelling nonsense about a sales call that you have yet to make.

Out of the corner of your eye you think you see Dwight tell Michael something and it makes him stop yelling, but it doesn't ease your anxiety.

Jim watches as Michael walks away and then he turns his attention back to you.

"Hey, honey, just look at me." You shake your head in response. "You're doing such a good job already, I just need you to take a couple more big, deep breaths, alright? Can you try that for me?" His grip on your hand never once eases as he helps you through your anxiety attack.

After a while of encouragement and reassurance, you begin to shake less and your heart slows back down to its regular pace, for the most part anyway.

When Jim is sure you're able to breathe on your own without his help, he tries to gently remove your hand from his chest, but you grip onto his shirt tightly. He doesn't seem to mind, and covers your hand with his own again.

"Sorry." You mumble, almost inaudibly. He gently takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and guides your head upwards to look at him.

"Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. You can't stop stuff like this from happening, and I'm always here to help you with these things, okay?" You give him a little nod in response. Jim wipes away the still falling tears with the fingers previously situated on your chin.

He kisses your forehead and goes to stand up, but you grab his hand and a strained noise comes from your throat in protest.

"I'm just gonna grab you some water and a tissue." Jim says, pressing his lips to your hand.

As he walks away you dry your cheeks as best you can, still feeling embarrassed about your situation.

'Jim shouldn't have to deal with someone as pathetic as you.' That little whisper in the back of your mind seems as though it's yelling, not whispering.

You don't even notice Jim walking back into the room as your brain is so consumed with ways to apologise for the inconvenience.

"Can practically hear you thinking, sweetheart. What's going on in there?" He taps your forehead as he sets the glass of water down on the table and hands you the tissues.

"I'm sorry." You apologise again.

"What are you sorry for?" He smiles sadly at you, which only makes you feel worse.

"I'm sorry I'm such a pain in the ass." You chuckle wetly. "You shouldn't have to deal with this kinda stuff." You look up at him, and he stares back at you.

"Oh, honey, no. I'm not dealing with anything. You're my girlfriend. I want to help you. And frankly, you're not a pain in the ass. I love you, okay?"

Oh.

"I love you too." You reply, still feeling semi-guilty. You know Jim can tell, but he doesn't say anything. He does, however, grab your hands and pull you up so that you're standing. He wraps his arms around your waist and you immediately respond by wrapping your own around his neck and burying your face into his shoulder.

Jim whispers 'I love you' again a dozen times or so, and you simply bury your face further into his neck, perfectly content to stay there as long as he'll let you.

[kristabelles]

Would anyone be interested in reading a character-inserted/self-inserted fanfic featuring Spider-Man, Loki, Kraven, and possibly Daredevil?

Featuring Alex Turner from the Arctic Monkeys and a face claim of John Krasinski and Aaron-Taylor Johnson?

I know I haven't posted in a while on anything, but I've been working on my writing again and I thought about sharing this one as it truly has been one of my favorite Spider-Man fanfics that I've created. I spent numerous drafts playing with different concepts before I found one that really worked for me and what I wanted to do with Spider-Man and Loki.

The writing style is also something I have not done before. I've done reader inserts/self-inserts/character-inserts but this is one that includes views outside of yourself, so you can feel the tension building between Peter and others. It also includes Peter's POV at some points and other's POV as they become relevant to the story.

It's also a combination of the MCU and the PlayStation Spider-Man universe as I've used some lore and side characters from the game to help create a well rounded world that is not as narrow as the current MCU Spider-Man.

Below are some proofs of how long ago I created it and how long the current edition of it is.

It's about 12 chapters currently but I want to work on rewriting some parts of them before I post them. I would probably be posting them on Ao3 instead of here. This is my profile: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristykissy

If you're curious about the essence of the plot: The reader has been friends with Peter Parker since the beginning of their time at ESU. The reader is in a relationship with Alex Turner, whom Peter Parker dislikes. At some point, the reader develops powers that are awakened during a life-threatening situation with Spider-Man, tangling her into a messy web with Kraven, Loki, and an original character villain who all want to wield the reader's powers for their own agendas.

The story is inspired by my long love for Peter Parker and Spider-Man since childhood and my spiritual awakening that happened after my father's passing.

If you've ever wanted to be Peter Parker's main squeeze, while also being wanted by Loki, and saved by Spider-Man then this would be for you.

Respond to this post if you're interested! I may post this regardless if I get any feedback <3.