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chososdiscordkitten · 8 months ago

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Keep Them On!

Synopsis: jjk men x reader w glasses ^-^ (yes they stay on during sex)

Includes: : 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐣𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 Content: gn!reader, smut with a sprinkle of fluff, no plot, penetrative sex, cum play, oral (m), glasses kink(?)

MDNI

Naoya Zenin

Naoya is so mean when it comes to your glasses. At first, he was generally mean—pushing them up the bridge of your nose harshly when they would slip or hiding them whenever you made some kind of retort at him that he didn’t like.

Most of all, Naoya didn’t like it when he would say something you deemed ‘controversial,’ and you would take your glasses off in the middle of the conversation. Muttering something about how you didn’t want to see his face anymore.

So the next time your glasses were pressed against his face- lips slotted against each other and the plastic frames only making him more frustrated. Naoya pulled away from you, urging your head down to imply that he wanted oral. (yes he's a head pusher)

And when your hands reached for the little legs of your spectacles- Naoya sucked his teeth. Nodding his head ‘no’ and freeing his cock from his bottoms.

Muttering something along the lines of ‘I want you to see as best as you can.’ with far too much smugness coating his words with the very tip of his cock smeared against the clean glass with an amused laugh.

You scoffed as you felt Naoya slap his tip against the side of your cheek- urging you to open.

You were on your knees, between his legs, as he sat lazily on the couch, with one hand atop your head and the other wrapped around his base.

And when your lips finally had his tummy clenching, his eyebrows furrowed, and his head daring to tip back. Teetering on the very edge of an orgasm, Naoya pulled your lips off of his cock.

Your eyebrows furrowed, knowing he had a penchant for seeing you swallow his mess. Then it clicked when his hand started making filthy strokes at his cock- aiming his tip directly for the glass lenses with a smile.

His spend coating your glasses with a groaning huff from your lips. His only excuse was, “What? You were the one who said you didn’t wanna see me.”

When he saw the sight of the glossy frames being spurt by his cum- Naoya was sure to ask you for blowjobs with them on from now on.

Even if you spent the next 30 minutes complaining about how hard they were to clean- and how he was just being a brat. Naoya could always get you new glasses- or, as he put it. “Stop being blind, and you won’t need them.”

Satoru Gojo

From the moment Gojo found out you had glasses, he would make little comments about them. Not mean- just strange little statements that would leave his lips without filter.

When you would refuse to wear them in public- squinting at everything and holding onto his arm as a guide. Gojo would tell you to put them on, that you look even hotter with them. At once, even calling you a sexy librarian.

His own way of assuring you that a pair of glasses didn’t change anything to him.

He found it funny that he had perfect vision- almost too perfect, and you. Well, you needed pieces of glass to see or you would get dizzy.

In his mind, Satoru interpreted that as ‘I cover my eyes because I get sick if I don’t- and you wear glasses or else you get dizzy, another thing we have in common.’ just more ramblings of a man who was utterly whipped.

And this- well, it only translated to the bedroom activities.

The first few times- you always made sure to take them off. Knowing how Satoru can be with his afflictions for various positions- you didn’t want to break them. Same when it went for oral; you always took them off before going down on him.

And Satoru tried to get you to forget to take them off- be it interrupting when you’d try to catch up on work assignments, he would come in and distract you from them.

He would win most of the time- but you always took them off. Didn’t matter how pent up you or him were, you always did.

And the one time you chose to forget- too tired and completely uncaring if they stayed on while Gojo’s warmth kept you under the covers with him. Even if all of Satoru’s insides were screaming at him to say ‘Yippee’ and start jumping up and down at the opportunity presented to him. He didn’t.

Gojo went on about his tasks as he normally did- but when it came to spreading your thighs to welcome him, looking upon your framed eyes and smiling to himself at the little fog formed at the bottom from how heated your cheeks were.

Even more when his thrusts became frantic- your head moving against the pillow and slightly moving the glasses on the bridge of your nose.

And your hands were far too busy gripping on his arms- his hair, whatever part of his body you could find to help soothe the ache. Far too busy to fix the crooked lenses.

Gojo looked at you with the same look on his face he makes when he discovers something new he likes. A new flavor of candy, a song he liked the melody of- and now, the pretty whimpers leaving your lips, all topped off with your fogged, crooked glasses- only accentuating the fucked out expression you had.

And when he rolled off of you, looking at your lazy hand, reach up to the frame and pull them off, your lashes wet with salty water and your cheeks still warm to the touch.

Satoru made sure to ask you properly to keep them on next time- on his knees with his head bowed as though he was asking some colossal favor from you.

You would only furrow your eyebrows with a slight grimace- knowing of all the strange things he could ask of you, this one was probably the most tame one.

Suguru Geto

Suguru starts off so sweet with you- brings them to you freshly cleaned whenever he sees you without them. Lightly scolding you- “You’ll only get blinder if you don’t wear them.” he would say- sliding the legs behind your ears and making sure you had them on properly.

He only found it even cuter when you would squint at something- unable to see correctly without them on.

When it came to intimacy;

Geto made the discovery of your glasses being a turn on from the first few times he saw them fog up and slightly tilt to the side as he pounded them off.

But- there was one thing Suguru did that was the slightest bit annoying. Sure, you could deal with his incessant words- urging you that it was fine and you didn’t have to take them off. Or when you would reach to remove them Suguru would replace your hands and push them back up on your nose for you.

How desperation fills your movements when you take them off- tossing them to god knows where before connecting your lips to his again.

Unable to stand the little nudges the plastic made against Suguru, only seeing your glasses as an obstacle in the way of kissing him properly.

Leading to finding the frames in the most strange of places- and most of all, once or twice finding them broken, bent- or even with a lens popped out, nowhere in sight.

Or when you’d be in public and you’d look at him over the top of them- raising your brows with a questioning look on your face- it only reminded him when you would be giving him head and do the same thing.

He tries not to make a mess on them- he tries his hardest to cum in your throat or on his tummy. But it’s almost like his cock and brain rewire at the last second and aim his cockhead for the glass.

And Suguru’s thing for you in glasses was only intensified when you popped his cock from your lips- rubbing his shaft on your cheek with a fucked out smile. And his tip- nudging against the very bottom of your frames with every little stroke your hand made on his shaft.

And when he finally spurt his mess- your lips parted and waited for Geto to take his aim. Hot spurts of white landing on your cheeks, your nose, your lips- but most of it was on the glass you used to see.

What Suguru found most endearing- was when you would only smile and lick as much as you could from your lips. Not even complaining about his shitty aim.

In the end it was just glass that could be replaced had you really wanted to.

Toji Zenin

Toji swears he didn’t even notice you had them- he tried to convince you he had never noticed you needed glass to see.

But he would do this thing- this particular thing that you had never noticed before.

Be it when you’d be speaking- not noticing how his eyes would tighten, fixating on the little crook at the edge of your frames.

Reaching a hand out and pushing them to sit correctly on the bridge of your nose.

He had done it far too many times for you to ask what he was doing or why- so used to seeing his hand reach out to you that you never questioned it.

Toji also had this urge when it came to intimacy- and you were always too fucked out to notice his little habit during sex.

When you were on your back, your eyes closed and lightly covered by fog on the glass. The frames slightly tilted to one side as his eyes looked at your expression. His hand would go up to your face with an indulgent smile on his lips.

Fixing the little crook of your glasses before enjoying the sight before him again.

And when you were on all fours- Toji was thankful to have a mirror in front of you, piercing eyes watching the frames dare to fall off with every powerful thrust he made against your bottom.

Almost like he enjoyed watching them slip off- something about your fucked out expression adorned with a pair of crooked glasses, scratched at an itch in his brain he didn’t even know was there.

Toji had never realized this before you—he didn’t know if it was you specifically or glasses in general.

You always saw it as Toji showing his tenderness towards you- even if you were too busy focusing on other things to notice the little habit.

It didn’t click in his mind till one day he was listening to you speak- far too tangled in his own thoughts trying to figure out what it was precisely.

And then he thought back to the sight of you in the mirror. The look of complete and utter dissolution, as though you had finally let loose and released tension, that’s what he found satisfying.

Associating glasses with some kind of intelligence- even if you weren’t the brightest crayon in the box at times. The frames made you look the tiniest bit more intelligent. Like you were well-read.

And when he would fuck them right off of you- it seemed like he was fucking out any unnecessary fun fact you harbored in your brain.

With every roll of his hips- he would fuck you dumb, and continue till you were a blabbering mess, unable to see the satisfied look on his face in the mirror when they would fall off.

Kento Nanami

Out of all the men- Kento would be the most respectful of your glasses.

Not as though they were some kind of out of the ordinary trait you had than nobody else did. You just needed a little help to see is all.

But Nanami would be lying had he said that the sight of you pushing your glasses up your head like a headband didn’t make something in him twitch.

Be it how your eyes glimmer without the glass blocking them or how effortlessly radiant you look when you look at him without them.

Or when you would crawl between his legs and nudge the book he was reading to the side. Pressing the side of your face on his tummy and watching the frames move from the smush of your cheek.

When he would roll over in the mornings and see your uncovered face. The bridge of your nose undented from the nose pads and the little creases of your eyes on full display so early in the morning.

What he hated most was how the glass hid your eyes- even if they were clear. A glare here or there or a smudge would make your eyelashes go overlooked.

Nanami understood that you needed them- that there was nothing he could do about it. He still liked looking at you with them on- but not as much as he liked seeing you without them.

It was still you behind the glasses, after all.

But when you would ask him to wait a moment- his hands wandering and gripping at any exposed skin they could find. His hips rested between your thighs. You would reach your hand from his hair- removing the glasses and placing them on your night table.

Wasting no time in connecting your lips with his again. Mumbling that you wanted to see him with your bare eyes between every breath of air he took.

This only gave Nanami the opportunity to keep his chest pressed against you- keeping his lips near yours. Even if they were not locked anymore, a mere millimeter from each other as you looked into his eyes.

Your request for looking upon him without assistance was heard. He made sure to stay as close as possible so you could see what you desired.

The light blush that roamed down his cheeks, every furrow his brows would make. And feel every exhale he would make tingle your skin before locking your lips again.

Lazy and unpatterned, not even bothering to close your eyes as his tongue swirled against yours.

As much as Kento liked your glasses- he much preferred you like this. No struggle in squinting just to see him. Being more than close enough for your bare vision to see his expression entirely.

Choso Kamo

Choso is sooooo sweet when it comes to your glasses.

Seeing you gasp whenever they’d slip off the nightstand, far too scared for them to break and not be able to buy new ones to contain the winces.

Or how you’d take them off occasionally and wipe the lenses whenever they smudge.

Even if you never mentioned it, Choso noticed the care you had for the frames.

So when you would ask him to pass them to you- he would make sure to grab the legs or the little bridge. Mimicking the way your fingers are always avoidant of the glass.

Or when he would notice a minor blot on the glasses before you could. Taking them off of you and swiping away any debris you had yet to see.

Choso had the decency to push your glasses up to the top of your head before he kissed you- knowing he could be needy and could end up damaging them had he not been careful.

And Choso never liked holding back how he felt when it came to you- so instead of that, he would move the precious item away and kiss you with all the urgency that buzzed in his insides.

When they would be at the top opf your head, almost moving too eager, they would slip down and lightly hit his nose. He would gruff softly- nearly irritated that the pair of glasses were trying to cockblock him right now.

Choso would gently take them off of you before folding them- placing them on a flat surface with a sprinkle of urge in his movements before connecting his lips to yours.

And in the mornings, he would always like watching your eyes open- a little squint forming on your eyes when you would wake. Little to no hesitation in giving you your glasses to see him clearly.

Kiyotaka Ijichi

You had always found it rather tedious that Ijichi insisted on kissing you with his glasses on- yours clashing with his were bound to cause scratches on both of your frames.

You always took yours off before he did his; muttering about how he wanted to see you clearly when things got heated.

But something about how he would look- so flushed and on the brink of whimpering. So easily flustered and tight in his slacks from a few sloppy kisses.

Even more so when he would clear his throat and adjust the little frames as you took yours off. As though this was some kind of business deal for which he had to stay composed.

Even during intimacy, he would keep them on- fogged up and bordering on falling- and yet Ijichi still insisted on keeping them on.

And the next chance you got- you pulled away and saw him with the little frames. His cheeks blushed red with a growing fog at the bottom of them. You couldn’t help but smile.

Pushing up the bridge of your own glasses and raising a hand to the black legs of his frames. “It’s my turn to see you.” you mumbled, pulling them off and staying close enough for him to see you.

That what taking off his glasses meant only gave you more reason to stay close to him and not dare pull away.

Ijichi got even more flushed, if that was possible- being able to feel your 20/20 vision gaze on his skin whenever you would scan over his body. Suddenly, all too aware of how it must have felt for you when you took your own glasses off in these moments.

He wondered if it ever felt as piercing for you as it did for him. Or even as half as vulturous as your eyes went low- the starved smile on your lips only adding to it.

(a.n) my most recent regret is not buying 'cum lube' and instead buying the regular lube. SIGH.

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eddiemunsons-missingnipple · 10 months ago

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LISTEN. HEAR ME OUT. eddie and Best friend!reader petty arguing, right, so reader says 'ooh you wanna kiss me soooo bad' and he does.

Hear ME OUT!!

What about we sprinkle in some jealous!Eddie too give it the ol'razzle dazzle.

Jealous! Eddie Munson x Bestfriend!reader

Warnings: fluff, some cursing, kissing that's about it.

Not proofread ignore mistakes.

Eddie has been in a pissy mood all damn week. He was short with you. He was snappy and just passive all around. The bottom line is that he was being a real asshole to you. You couldn't pinpoint exactly what made him this way. You chalked it up to him, barely getting any sleep. Maybe he cut back on smoking and is dealing with those withdrawals.

Doesn't matter at this point he was a dick and taking it out on you specifically. Ever since you went out on that date with his friend, Eddie has been insufferable. Little did you know that's the exact reason he's been moody with you.

He was jealous. You were his, and he had to watch his friend pick you up for a date. He sat in his room thinking about his friend kissing you. His friend holding your hand, and God knows what else you two did on your date together.

But you've had about enough of his attitude. You were sitting on his bed flipping through his heavy metal magazine while he tuned up his guitar.

"Hey, eddie, can you turn on the tv?" You looked before turning another page. You weren't even reading the comic. You were more interested in the artwork than anything the plot.

"Turn it on your damn self." He already sounded aggravated with you. "And stop turning those damn pages like that you'll rip them."

He rolled his eyes and turned his chair to face more away from you.

You huffed immediately, getting fed with him now." Alright, what hell is your problem?"

You slammed down his magazine, crossing your arms over your chest. You felt your face heating from the anger rising inside of you. You've dealt with his mood swings before, but that's because they were never directly pointed at you. Not until recently.

"I don't have a problem." He shrugged, still refusing to face you.

"Oh yes, you do. You've been a complete douche all week."

He smirked and finally turned around. "I've been a douche? Me? Maybe I wouldn't be such a douche if you weren't so fucking annoying."

"I'm not annoying!" You defended yourself, raising your voice slightly.

"Oh, but yes, you are. All you do is yap all day long, and I gotta listen to it." Eddie, let out a condescending laugh after you argued back with him.

You squinted your eyes, "Yeah, well, at least I'm not walking around with a stick up my ass."

You could hear him growl something under his breath. His lips were pressed in a tight line.

"You're right. I do have a stick up my ass. How about you get your ass up and turn on the TV because my ass is currently busy with a stick rammed up it." His voice was dripping with sarcasm while bickering back and forth with you.

You rolled your eyes and got up off his bed to turn on the TV. You messed with the volume until it was as high as it could go. You were purposely trying to press his buttons. You wanted a reaction out of him. You wanted that last word, and you were going to get it. He couldn't hear himself think or focus on what he was currently doing.

Eddie jumps up from his chair and turns down the TV. You just stay standing there, twisting the nob to it turn back up. You're both staring each other down in the process.

"You're bein- he went to speak, but you raised the volume up again, cutting him off.

Eddie let a deep breath and turned the tv back down once more. His face is all red, and sets his guitar back against his dresser. "You're being reeeeeally petty right now. I'm trying to tune up my guitar."

"Yeah?...so?" You slowly turn the TV up again with your eyes locked onto his.

His jaw tightens, and his nostrils flare. You decided to mess with him. You wanted to rile him up some more. He rubbed his hands down his face.

You watched him closely, and a little idea sparked in your head. You don't know what really came over you. Probably, his attitude with you has finally made you lose your mind or something.

"Ooh, you wanna kiss me sooo bad right now, huh?" You taunted him.

There was always this unspoken crush between the two of you that was mutual. You were being mean, and you didn't care. You were past your limit right now. You wanted to get under his skin, and it was working.

He doesn't say anything he just looks at you. He steps closer, leaving very little room between the two of you. Without any warning, his lips came crashing down into yours. His hands go up to hold both sides of your face gently. His soft lips locked with yours as his tongue slipped past them.

The kiss was sloppy but passionate. He didn't care if your teeth clashed a little bit. He needed to do this. You felt light-headed while your tongues fought for dominance. Your face felt all tingly, and your hands moved up to grip onto his forearms. Only a few seconds have passed, but it felt like hours. Time stood still as you made out with your best friend in his bedroom.

He let go of your face and moved his lips slowly away from you. He had a smug expression on his face. Your eyes flutter back open, and you swallow. You're breathing heavy, and you don't know if it's from the kiss or from the fight you and Eddie were getting into. Or a combination of both.

"Why have you been so mean to me all week?" You whispered your fingers, move up to trace over your own lips. You could still feel traces of him on your mouth.

Eddie looked at you and with a sad smile. "I couldn't get over the fact that you went on date with my friend Cody."

Your eyebrows raised. "You-- You were jealous of Cody?" You were in disbelief. Here you thought he was just annoyed being around you.

You couldn't believe he would be so irritated over that date. It was one date, and you were miserable. Plus, it's not like you haven't seen him take home his fare share of women from the bar.

Those nights where he would be out with a made you feel sick to your stomach. But you never once took it out on him like this. You shake those thoughts and try to listen and understand where he is coming from. Right now, it's about him, not you. He was never good at expressing his feelings, and because of that, he was more prone to lashing out.

"Well, yeah, just the mere thought of him being so close to you really upset me. I know I've been a dick but I just couldn't help it." He plopped back down in his chair.

You moved to sit at the edge of his bed. Your legs felt like they were going to give out after kissing him.

"Why didn't you say something?" You sighed and picked at your chipped nail polish.

"I don't know.. I don't want to mess up what we have." He gestured between the two of you. His voice was a lot softer now than is has been all week.

You nodded and understood why he felt like he couldn't express his feelings. "Can you kiss me again?"

Eddie's eyes dart up, and he looks a little surprised. "Can i?"

You couldn't have actually wanted to kiss him again? He thought to himself. He was already feeling guilty for just happened. He felt his heart start to race again.

You smiled and nodded, "I wish you would have kissed me sooner."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x you #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff

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namisin · 6 months ago

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❝ TOUCH ME, FEEL ME. . .

⚝ pairing : nanami kento x reader.

⚝ synopsis : it's date night, and the food isn't the only thing kento wants to devour.

⚝ content : 18+, fem reader, soft/pleasure dom kento, pὁrn with a literal sprinkle of plot, oral, car sėx, inspired by this song, praise, a good bit of it, semi-public, he's simply down bad ur honour, established relationship, mention of squirting, some size diff if you squint, overstim too squint real good, MDNI.

⚝ word count : 1.8k | 6.4 min read.

⚝ a/n : whats up whats up whats uppp ! this is my very first public fic after lurking on this side of fandom for... forever ? really hope u guys enjoy it ♡ likes, reblogs &/or comments are mega appreciated !!

𝐘𝐎𝐔 were trying to kill him.

that had to be the reason you turned up to your and nanami's weekly date night wearing that dress. red silk flowed around your curves like water and parted around your thigh like the sea moses allegedly split — a crimson sea of pure temptation that shifted dangerously with each step you took back to his car.

"you look gorgeous," he'd murmured in your ear when you'd met up earlier that night, teeth clenched and eyes wavering with the urge to wander. you gave him a glossy grin in return that nearly ripped his resolve in two, and thanked him in a sugary tone that made his pants that much more uncomfortable.

nanami opened the door for you, as usual, and held your hand to help you take your rightful position in his passenger seat. you sank into the cool leather while he rounded the car to the driver's side, toying with the smooth gem pendant on the necklace he'd gifted you forever ago. wordlessly, he settled before pulling his seatbelt into place. his eyes flitted instinctively to you, routinely double-checking that you'd fastened your own seatbelt too (it would become a habit for anyone after dating for well over a year). not long after, he pushed the sleek button that made his bmw m850i hum to life.

for you, the ride was quiet, save for the muted melody playing through the radio and the soft "clink!" of acrylic on smooth gemstone. for nanami, the rush of need in his head was deafening. the squishy mass between his ears swarmed with the cacophony of sounds you'd make if he touched you just right; how you'd squeal his name once he buried his face far enough between your thighs; the sticky squelches that would fill his eardrums once he finally slid home inside you, where he so desperately wanted to be.

for the moment, the sorcerer settled for clasping a calloused hand around your thigh.

"i can see you trying not to stare," your glacéed laughter broke through (what he thought was) his private musings, making his eyes widen a fraction on what was otherwise a stoic expression.

"can you blame me, darling? i meant it when i said you look gorgeous," nanami retorted in teasing stride after sobering; the corner of his lip quirked as his grip tightened on your thigh, "it's hard to keep my eyes off you."

an appreciative warmth crawled across your cheeks, curling the smile on your own lips further up.

"you should be focusing on the road, kento. would suck to crash 'cause you couldn't keep it in your pants," you snorted. he only huffed a breath of a laugh. his hand strayed further up.

"i think i'm a better driver than that. i'd still prefer to focus on you, though," he spoke in a bassy murmur, full of the gravel of lust he held for you. a particularly cold waft of air gusted at you from the air con, but you weren't so sure that was the real reason you shivered. you covered it up with another snort—

cut short by the warmth of nanami's hand eclipsing your clothed cunt.

a shaky breath blew from your chest. it was your turn to sneak glances between the road ahead and your boyfriend. your hips itched to circle in tandem with his fingers ghosting over your clit.

"ken..." you started.

"hm? what is it, precious? 'm trying to focus on the road."

you would've cracked a grin at his sass if not for the fact that your bottom lip was trapped between your teeth. the heat from your face cut a straight path downward, pooling in your abdomen and clinging to the crotch of your panties.

nanami ripped a broken sound from your throat by digging further into the fabric separating you, pressing the pads of his fingers down onto your clit. even from where he sat, he could see the patch of wetness that betrayed your arousal... it sapped any trace of amusement left in him and replaced it quickly with a spate of lust.

his fingers stilled, almost making you whine, until you realized he was pulling over onto a soft shoulder.

"w-wait ken, we shouldn't—"

"it's late, doll. no one'll see us. and besides," he released his seatbelt, then yours, "if you keep making pretty sounds like that, we will end up crashing."

burying your face in your hands, you almost missed the sound of his door opening.

"coming?" he called once he opened yours, holding a hand out for you.

"where're we goin'?"

the back door of his coupe opening answered your question.

you landed on your back with an "oof," the most jelly-like parts of you bounced for a moment before they stilled. there was barely another moment of reprieve before nanami's lips were on yours, slotting to fit just as his body did between your pliant legs. he licked at the full seam of your lips until you opened up to allow him exploration access. and explore he did — from the roof of your mouth, to the backs of your teeth, to wrapping his tongue around yours. your man was an absolutely filthy kisser, at least if the gloss smearing across both your mouths was any indication.

he pulled away from you with a wet "smack!" and like a lost puppy, you followed the warmth. hoarse laughter rumbled from his chest at your expense, drawing a pout to your swollen lips.

"oh, don't pout, sweet girl," he cooed after pecking it away, "you know i could never leave you wanting for anything."

"now, be good for me," nanami breathed into the heated skin of your neck before following up with his lips. you shifted your head to the other side easily. thrills of shudders raced along your spine at the way his lips pressed up against your sensitive spots. he took his time to work his way down, from your neck to your collarbones, then down to the deep v-cut of your dress. dark eyes, swimming wildly with desire and adoration for you, met yours over the gentle peaks of your tits, the same ones he slowly pulled the silk of your dress away from to expose to the air con.

"perfect fuckin' girl," he grunted. you would've protested (feebly), but he cut you off yet again when his lips suctioned around a hardened nipple. you hands found their way to his perfectly-coiffed hair, mussing it up in seconds.

"kuh-ken," again, you whimpered for him, feeling the telltale pulsing of a growing ache in your cunt.

"tell her i'm comin'," he warbled around the opposite nipple, satiated by the amount of saliva covering the other. as he suckled away, he reached down to shuck your dress up over your hips until it came to bunch at your tummy. you could tell he was reluctant to move on from your tits, though he had something he craved much more waiting for him.

you felt hot puffs of breath fan across your clothed slit, and that alone had you hiccupping out a whine.

"you wear these tonight for me?"

"d-don't tease, i can't—"

"as if you haven't been teasing me the whole night in this damn dress?"

the urge to roll your eyes and buck your hips up into his face were equally strong, however you stayed still and docile enough for him to cave and give you what you wanted.

he always did in the end.

you were almost right on the money, too. he lolled his tongue out to run it over your panties, growing the small wet patch into a much longer-spanning one. nanami mouthed and licked at you through the fabric just long enough to make you mewl, squirm and wrap your legs just a bit closer around his head, all in an attempt to be subtle in your push for him to give you more. impatient girl.

he didn't bother with pulling your panties off; contrary to the way he acted, he was just as impatient as his darling. every soft, needy sound you made only ticked off the amount of time he was still willing to put you both through the agony of waiting.

instead, he yanked the so-thin-it-was-almost-useless cloth to the side, pausing for a mere moment to admire the way your treacly arousal glistened in the low light of the moon. translucent strings of it connected you to your panties and pooled temptingly around your entrance.

with a gruff moan, he burrowed his way into your folds, nose bumping up against your clit. a deep gasp tore its way up your throat at his fervor.

he went from running his tongue along your slit to sucking on your clit, pursing his lips and tongue around the sensitive nub in the way he knew you liked. nanami licked a continuous path up and down, passing between that and sucking the daylight out of that bundle of nerves. he worked a finger, then two, into your fluttering hole while on the latter half of the rotation — that got your back to bow off the padded seat, just how he liked.

"don't stop, mmph! please don't stop, holy fuck-"

he couldn't help his chuckles, more hot puffs hit your now-exposed flesh in a way that made you retake your grip in his hair with one hand and sink your nails into his expensive leather seat with the other.

"'m so, so close- please!"

nanami took that as his cue to wrap his hands around your hips in a tight grip, forcing you down against his mouth and giving you no choice but to take everything he aimed to give you. he didn't let up even as you were quivering in his hold, your body tensed and his scalp stinging beneath your tight fist, nor as you squealed—

"cuh-cumming, ken! cummin'-!"

the warmth that pooled in your belly rushed throughout the rest of your body in waves, making you huff shortly in between wailing, cracked sobs of "ohmigodohmigodohmigod"s and "puh-lease, kento"s. stars blinked in and out behind your eyelids, your ears rang with the songs of angels and you swam in dizziness even though you were still laid on your back. the bliss that enveloped you numbed you to the point you barely noticed just how much you gushed around his fingers and tongue, nor how much you constricted around him.

slowly, very slowly, you came back to, vision zeroing back in on a proudly-smirking nanami. the lower half of his face dripped obscenely, a mirror of the cunt he was pulling his fingers free of.

"that's my girl," he muttered against your lips, "so fuckin' pretty. all fuckin' mine."

he left you to recoup on the backseat of the coupe after peppering you with more kisses and hushed praise, wrapped up in his jacket and curled into a blissed-out little ball. you watched him clean his face up with a handkerchief from the rearview with hooded eyes, and noted he still couldn't wipe the pleased look off his face.

"oh, don't get too comfortable yet, darling," he hummed while steering back onto asphalt, "i'm finishing what i started once i get you home."

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sweetimpurity · 7 months ago

Text

I Think I'll Keep You 3

Notes: Thank you for your patience and your kindness! I've been finishing school and I'm graduating next week so I'm BUSY! But I love you guys and I hope you enjoy! I recommend rereading the last section of Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 next chapter>>

w.c. 8k. rated p for plot

Miguel storms back to his dorm, across campus, clutching his jacket around his bare torso. Feeling like an absolute idiot for losing his cool. Losing control. What is it about you that makes him act this way?

It’s like you’re trying to knock down the walls he’s built around himself all his life. Running to his building as rain starts to sprinkle, he makes it to the lobby, rushing around, pacing in the elevator getting up to his floor, his mind on total lockdown. As the doors open, he steps out, eyes widening, heart thumping, instantly seeing Peter and a few other teammates down the hall walking his way. Before another thought crosses his mind and before they can spot him, he steps back into the elevator as the doors are closing, slamming on the buttons for the lobby. His heart beating out of his chest.

It’s starting to pour by the time he gets back downstairs, racing out before anyone he knows will see him. He’s sure they’ll get a bloody nose if anyone tries talking to him now. He keeps his head down, pushing through the doors outside and walking in the freezing rain, running at a certain point, crossing the courtyard and running to the other side of campus towards the athletic building. His Nikes splash in shallow puddles along the uneven parking lot, his dark eyes squinting as rain pelts down from above. His long legs bring him closer to the doors, closer to sanctuary, out of the freezing rain. Soaking his jacket, his hair, dripping down the bridge of his nose, fluttering in his eyelashes.

He pushes through the doors, sighing audibly in a mixture of relief and annoyance and realizing how fast he was running. He pushes through the next set of doors, walking down the dark hallways of the building. Sneakers squeaking softly on the linoleum as he reaches the team's locker room door. Rain drips down from the curls that flopped onto his forehead and down the nape of his neck. Droplets glistening off his cheeks and his nose as he flicks on one of the locker room lights. He has no idea why he came here. Maybe it’s just the only place no one else is.

He runs a hand through his hair, slicking it back from the cold rain, a few stray hairs springing out around his face. His mind flashes with images of you. Your smile, the pink tint of your lips, the peachy soft roundness of your cheek. His breath is heavy and his cheeks flushed from the cold. He gets to his locker, figuring maybe he should just… just do anything… 27… his fingers slip over the lock as rain drips from his curls… he could run around the field until he passes out…15… the color of your eyes… he could work on those drills he just gave the team the other day…10… the joint of your hip… the team does have a big game coming up this weekend… the lock won’t unlock… 27… the crook of your neck… he could go back to his dorm and work on that grant proposal he’s been needing to start…15…he could go to the lab and keep working on his thesis project… your gasping whispers of his name… 10… he could go to you right this second and tell you he’s sorry… 27… maybe that would make things better…15… the sound of your whimpers… the pitch of your moans… he could kick a ball around until it fucking pops… holding you close as you come down… 10!!... kissing you as you’re trembling… Why won’t the lock unlock? “Fucking unlock!!” He bellows and tugs on the lock in anger. His anger is blinding, numbing, controlling… his fist slams into the front of his locker. The bang of impact ringing throughout the empty locker room.

Instant pain shoots up his arm but he doesn’t care. He hits the locker again… and then again… and a few more times until the pain is too much to bear. Bang. Bang. BANG! Until his knuckles are worn raw. Punching, beating, denting the big “C” painted on the front of his locker. Captain. Leader. But he feels like a fucking loser. Punch, punch, PUNCH! Until he can’t anymore. “Ah… fuck!” He grunts and clutches his hand. Knuckles busted and fingers tingling hot and numb. “Fuck fuck ah… ngh…” He winces and groans in pain. “Shit…” He sighs and slumps his shoulder against the lockers. His hand throbbing and searing, clutching his hand to his chest in pain. His head rests against his locker, and he can feel the dents from the punches against his arm. Squeezing his eyes shut in pain and trying to stop the tears. Clutching his right hand and beating himself up in his head for being such a baby… for freaking out… for having feelings like this. Even when he’s alone, he won’t let himself cry over this.

“Ah…” He winces, looking down at his hand, trying to move his fingers but the instant swelling makes it practically impossible. Hissing softly at the pressure and pain between his knuckles.

Maybe this was necessary. Maybe this was the only way he’d slow the fuck down for one second to get his head on straight. He’s standing there and going over the events of tonight in his head. All that shit with Dana… then seeing you, kissing you, touching you… leaving because he couldn’t bear to listen to what you were saying. It was too much. It was too real. And the kind of conversation he actively tries to avoid. He can hardly remember what you said, it all feels like a blur right now. He can’t even remember what he said right now either. Probably some douchey stuff. “Ow, fuck…” He sighs and winces, holding his hand close to his chest.

He sits in silence only when he catches his breath enough to suppress the sounds of pure agonizing pain. He feels embarrassed. He thinks you probably hate him now too. You must. How could you not after the shitty things he said. Sighing, he sits down on the bench in the middle of the locker room. His hair still dripping down the back of his neck uncomfortably.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

He thinks to himself. Watching the purple bloom over his fingers and feeling the searing hot pain.

Why did I just do that? Freak out. Is it because he knew what you were about to say? That you… you might be in love with him? After all the needy nights, the sneaky meetups and the lazy mornings, why is he so afraid? He can’t help but think of one specific morning... a week before you'd left… after a long night entangled in the sheets.

“You’re so warm…” You had said. Wrapped in his arms after sleeping beside him all night long. Naked and soft in his thick arms. His chest pressed against your back, his head resting in the crook of your neck. He smiled softly to himself, wrapping his arms a little tighter around you. He wanted you to feel warm. He wanted to be the one to warm you.

“You’re so soft…” He hummed into your neck. Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You smiled, feeling so wanted, so safe and secure. No one had ever made you feel this way. And Miguel just kept doing it. When you were in his bed, he was always holding you. Always touching you. The sex was usually rough and desperate, and that was good… that was… incredible. But there was something about seeing him like this. Soft and quiet with all his attention on you. You were just dreaming of the day that these hookups would turn into something more. Trying to be patient but feeling like it would happen very soon.

“That tickles…” You whispered, squirming in his grasp as his breath and his lips tickled your neck. “Shhh…” He shushed you ever so softly, encasing you tighter in his arms and grazing his lips all around your neck and your shoulder. Knowing it’s tickling you, that it’s making you squirm. “Hah…” A soft puff of tense air left your lips at the feeling, unable to resist the urge to squirm and escape his tantilizing torture. “So sensitive…” He whispered, his hand coming up to softly grasp your throat, his lips moving up the side of your cheek before going back into the dip of your neck, biting down softly. You’d never experienced something so intimate, so romantic. You just closed your eyes, accepting everything he’s giving as you usually do. Except right now it feels like he’s giving it just to you. It’s for only you to have. His arm that’s under you wrapped around, his fingers teasingly tracing down your hip.

“Hey, don’t start anything. We both have class soon…” You said with a smile and he nipped at your shoulder. “Mm.” He grumbled defiantly into your neck, breathing in your scent, your shampoo mixed with the sweet smell of your skin. When was he not trying to start something? To fill you up and keep you in his bed all day after having you all night. “You’re not making me late to class again…” You said softly, still smiling as warmth spread over your cheeks. He smiled as you brought that up again. You just couldn’t seem to let that go. “It was one time…” He hummed playfully. “One too many…” You said with a sort of mischievous smile. “One too many…” He echoed your words in a breathy laugh, scoffing at your teasing. His voice is deep with sleep, fingers brushing down your chest, against your soft plush tummy and to your side, his fingertips pressing pleasantly to the little love-handles at your back, up to your shoulder blades and down your arm, his fingers encasing the back of your hand, so gentle, so soft. You’re still crushing on him hard except this time around he’s fucking you like he owns you and holding you like he made you. He sighed against your neck.

“You know what’s better than being late?... Staying in bed…” He said all smugly. “You know what’s actually better than being late?... Being on time…” You retorted back and he laughed softly. He can play this game. “You know what’s better than being on time?...... Staying in bed.” He repeated and it made you laugh. “You already said that one!” You pouted, feeling the vibrations of his laughter against your back. “You know what’s better than staying in bed?... Going to class…” You said quick and giggled. It didn’t really mean anything anymore but it was fun and you wanted to win this back and forth. “No way, that’s undeniably incorrect.” He smiled, leaning up on his elbow to look more at your face as you were laughing. You looked so cute. He just couldn’t resist. “You know what’s better than going to class?” He asked and you turned back a bit to look in his eyes. “What.” You brow raised knowing he was about to say something stupid. He really wanted you to stay in bed. He smirked. “Sex with me…” It made you roll your eyes when he said it. You should have known. He smiled and moved to climb more on top of you, looking down right into your eyes. The blush that washed over your cheeks and the way you tried to look so unimpressed. “You know what’s better than sex with me?” He whispered. Was there such a thing? “Sex with you.”

You looked up into his eyes. The tension got thicker the longer he just looked at you. Your eyes rolled again, trying not to break out into a big smile. He said it so easily. Before you could even form another thought his lips were on yours. His hand coming to your cheek, fingers soft upon your face. He kept it quick, knowing you actually didn’t want to be late for class. He was only teasing. But he kissed you again… and then again. Soft pecks. That kiss he kept doing. Like his lips couldn’t stop coming back for more. Your eyes fluttered open when you realized he’s not stopping. “Mm!” You hummed, pressing softly against his shoulder and he finally relented, pecking your cheek before getting off of you. Chuckling and laying beside you on his stomach, hooking his arm under the cold side of his pillow.

Your phone buzzed on his bedside table. Catching both of your attention. You picked it up, opening it for the first time this morning. He watched over your shoulder as you unlocked the phone and went to your messages. He tried not to look too much. He did glance at the screen a few times. A certain tension building inside him. Wondering who could be texting you. He wanted to ask, or just outright look at who was texting you but he didn’t want to seem like he cared. His dark eyes flicked to the side of your face, the wisps of hair around your ear and your hairline fanning to your cheek, the slight blush from sleep and his flustering touch. The thought of anyone else seeing you like this, being with you like this…. It made him want to kill any guy who so much as looked your way. Or texted you first thing in the morning…

“My mom is just… driving me crazy…” You sighed and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Your mom?” He managed to say, physically feeling himself relax finding it was just your mother texting you. The knot in his chest unraveling. He remembered you talking about some plans to go home for the weekend. A family reunion type of thing.

“Yeah she’s… I love her but she gets sort of… crazy when it comes to plans…” You said and sent one last text before setting your phone back on the bedside table. “Well she just probably wants to see you…” He said and it brought a smile to your face. “Yeah… I just feel bad when she tries to take care of everything...” You said softly. Thinking of your mom, the kind of brave and determined woman she’s always been. “I told her, I don’t need anything fancy, I just need to see her and dad and my siblings and that’s it. And we have all the time in the world once I’m there. I mean… until it’s time to come back to school obviously…”

“Yeah…” He said softly, but it sounded like his mind was somewhere else.

You have a large family. Lots of siblings. And Miguel doesn’t have that. He has one brother of course but he doesn’t even speak to his parents unless he needs to. It was interesting for him to hear about the conversation with your mom and your relationship with her. How you always spoke of your family with such love and tenderness. He’s never experienced anything like that in his life.

“You have such a…big family.” He said softly. You couldn’t really tell with what tone he was saying it. Whether it was simply an observation, a judgment, or some sort of longing. “I do…” You sighed with a smile. You are the oldest of six which Miguel was flabbergasted to learn. “It’s not something I expected, but once you told me, it made sense.” He stated. And you couldn’t help but be curious as to why he thought that. You turned over on your side to face him more, his eyes meeting yours and the look on his face was a little surprised like you caught him off guard turning around like that. Making a direct connection with him. “Made sense, how?” You asked with a smile, curious about how he sees you. His face felt hot. The way it got hot a lot when you looked at him like that. Like his body knew something his brain didn’t. So he tried to explain while he feels like the wind is being knocked out of him. “Well… you… are very…” He starts and you’re expecting him to say what a lot of people say. That you’re dependable, you’re mature, you’re independent, helpful, capable. Because that’s how everybody has always seen you. Like anytime anyone looks at you, they’re trying to get you to help them in some way. “…patient.” He said. And you’ve never heard that one before. You smiled softly at him and he felt relieved. “Five siblings, I mean you’ve got to be patient, right?” He said and smiled, trying to make it all just a light joke, looking around a bit and away from the way you’re gazing in his eyes. But what he said was pretty profound. Tells you he’d thought about you and the kind of person you are. He’d thought about more than just sex with you. You looked in his eyes, a smile dancing on your lips. It distracted him a bit.

“How does that make you feel?” You suddenly asked him. “What.” He asked, not knowing really how to answer a question like that. “How does my patience make you feel?” You reiterated slowly, looking right in his eyes like you’re staring right into his mind. He thought, getting distracted by that look on your face. The look that for some reason let him know whatever answer he gave you would never be the wrong one.

“It…makes me…feel….”

“Fuck.” He sighs, the memory dissolving in his mind as he shoves it away. How could he be so stupid? Why did he say that kind of stuff to you? It’s like he doesn’t even remember that being him. Like he’s looking at someone else’s memory with you. He becomes someone else when he’s with you. But you looked so happy and he remembers how warm and soft you were. Holding his swollen, mangled hand, he winces at the pain still throbbing. It’s not getting any better, it’s only getting worse.

It’s radio silence for the next few days. Midterms come and over the week you’re finishing up exams and tutoring students to do well. More students than ever are taking advantage of the tutoring program that you basically resurrected from the dead. So that’s a good feeling at least. You’ve been spending basically all your time in the library, both doing your own work and meeting with any students that need help. And just hanging out with a few tutoring friends. There are some new tutors that just joined the club a few weeks ago and it’s made this whole thing much more fun, hanging out with people that are like minded in that way. Wanting to help other people.

You haven't heard from Miguel. You don’t know what became of him on Sunday night. And he didn’t reach out or anything on Monday to talk. Discuss what happened. Will you ever talk to him again? Or do you have to pretend none of this ever happened and he never existed in the first place. Your Sunday night heartbreak turns into Monday numb and Tuesday rage. Now it’s Thursday and you’ve thought of all the things you’d say to him if he showed his face again. But deep down you know it’s only the kind of thing you’d never be able to say. Like scripting the perfect comebacks in the shower and kicking yourself for not thinking to say it in the moment.

It’s hard not talking to him. Not seeing him basically everyday. Because before this past weekend you were seeing him every second you both had to spare. You’re mad at him but you miss waking up in his arms. You miss the late night texts, him wanting you, coming to you and making you feel things you’ve never felt before. Maybe you’re delusional. Was that all this was? Sex and pillowtalk? After what he said Sunday night it seems that way and he made you feel bad for ever thinking otherwise. You’re not stupid, you know that friends with benefits exist and fuckbuddies are such a common thing. And you didn’t even need to be his friend if he really didn’t want you to be! There was never even a need for some conversation about labels because to you it just seemed so obvious! No one could fake that desperation and need. That wanting passion you both shared. The things he said as you gave him everything. Your body, your thoughts, your heart. His whispers of wanting you and how good you make him feel.

Of course he felt good. He was fucking you raw almost every night and you let him because you’d fallen in love with him. But were you even friends to begin with? Did he see you as anything more than a body to do whatever he wanted with? You thought he wanted you. You were his. He told you that.

This week has been hell but you push forward. Trying not to isolate yourself and staying in touch with some tutoring friends. Unfortunately, Miguel is so popular that you always find yourself running into his friends too. But you’re realizing more and more that no one knows about you. It’s like Miguel didn’t want anyone to know he was with you. Not even his closest friends.

You’re sitting in the library for a tutoring session. Last minute cramming before the last exams later that day. Typing on your laptop, a student at your side and helping him on a calculus study guide. Elbow leaning on the table, watching him work, checking what he’s doing as he’s doing it. “Simplify it first, then use the formula…” You say softly and he does as you say, erasing some and correcting himself. “And then just the same on the next one?” He asks and you nod. Patient. That word is in your mind. Remembering when he said it. You were a little too patient with Miguel.

Miguel’s watching all of this happen. Standing behind the library door, hidden mostly and only peering in through the window in the door. He finally caught up to you after days of trying to get to you. He tried multiple times to catch you in the library this week but he always missed you. Every night he debated texting you but ultimately decided he wanted you to text him first. Mostly because he had no idea what to say. He just wanted you back. For things to go back to the way they were. He’s pissed himself off. In his mind it’s like he’s convinced himself you don’t want to talk to him.

The library is mostly empty except for you and your tutee. He wants to get you alone right now but doubts he can. Especially when you’re in the middle of doing something. But what you’re doing can’t be as important as what he needs to say to you. As important as him. His hand is aching badly as it has all week since Sunday night. Hidden in his pocket. He hasn’t done anything about it. He’s been taking ibuprofen but it’s not doing much.

If he has to wait hours to talk to you, then so be it. He won’t let this go on any longer. You’re going to talk to him whether you have anything to say or not. Somehow he’s managed to turn his desperation into anger. He leans against the wall outside the library door. Staring at the pattern on the floor. Fidgeting with the seam inside his jacket pocket. Sighing deeply, he feels uneasy thinking about what he’s going to say to you. What you might say to him. He’s got to act tough so he doesn’t lose control of the conversation. If he does he’s sure he’ll lose you. Because he knows deep down that he’s the asshole here. It’s his fault. And he’s scared to beg you for another chance.

These feelings are foreign to him. Never before has he acted this way over someone and he doesn’t know why. Is there something wrong with me? He thinks. That always seems to be his first thought. A while goes by and his mind swirls with thoughts of you.

He’s lost in thought and only glances up as he hears the doors at the end of the hall swinging closed. Someone must have walked by him. He pushes off the wall, instantly going to the window in the library door and seeing you’re finally alone. His heart thumps in his chest. Clenching his swollen bruised hand in his pocket. He sighs and forces himself to walk inside.

He gets halfway to you before you suddenly look up. Stopping him in his tracks. And it’s like he suddenly feels like he’s doing something wrong. Eyes locked and breath caught in both your chests.

It’s been four fucking days. Not a call, not a text. Nothing. And now he’s here. You look away first. Back down to your laptop to continue typing. And he continues walking, stopping at the edge of the table across from you.

It’s silent. Not a word dared spoken until…

“I need to talk to you.” The tall man finally speaks, towering over the table. Silence follows as you think about how to go about this. You thought about this moment all week. All the different scenarios and possibilities. You imagined melting into his arms as you’ve done a million times by now. But thinking back to all those moments it’s like none of that ever mattered because it didn’t matter to him. How can you trust him again when he treated you like he wanted you and then told you, you were never supposed to happen. After he finally spoke, it lit a fire inside you. “I’m busy right now.” You say softly, keeping your eyes locked on your laptop screen. While this time away from him has been hell and you’ve been heartbroken over this, he’s also been a total dick. You don’t want to let him get away with it. You don’t know how you’re going to do that but you try not to bend completely to his will. Your attention is directed back to your keyboard, typing away and ignoring him. All those comebacks are stuck in your throat. Miguel frowns, watching you.

He’s been trying all week to find you. To talk to you. Trying to find sneaky ways so that he doesn't have to beg for your attention. And now seeing you ignore him. He wants your attention and he’s gonna get it.

After a few beats of heavy silence, he walks around the table. You don’t look up, not even sparing him a glance. Glaring at your laptop screen and seeing his movement in your peripherals. He silently walks to the seat right next to you. Pulling it out and slipping down into it to sit beside you. His hands shoved back into his pockets as he sits like he intends to stay.

“Y/n… hey...” He says gently, trying to get your attention. Turning in his chair slightly to face you more, his knee pressing softly into the side of your thigh. He can see your anger, he can feel it too. “I’m not talking to you.” You say without looking at him. “Well I’m talking to you…” He says so softly, one could mistake the tone for sweet nothings. You sigh, closing your laptop with a click, you grab your bag. Ready to just leave and brush him off if he’s not going to take the hint to leave you alone. “No…no.” He says softly and reaches across you, taking your bag, lifting it over and onto his side. So you can’t get to it.

An annoyed huff escapes your lips, crossing your arms and staring straight ahead to avoid him. You’re not good at confrontation. Never had to do something like this before.

His hand comes up to brush your hair back behind your ear. The backs of his fingers brushed across your cheek. And you brush his hand away when he does it. Is he really trying that right now?

“Stop it.” You sigh, pushing his hand away absentmindedly so he opts for resting his arm on the back of your chair. “Come on… let’s talk about this.” He says and you’re starting to fume inside. Now he wants to talk? After you begged him not to leave, begged him to talk to you Sunday night? You look over at him angrily and he keeps his arm around the back of your chair. His broad shoulders give him an advantage. “What do you want?” You glare at him and he sighs. He knew you might be angry but he’s never seen you look at him that way. “Why did you even come here? Just to make things worse?” You frown and keep your arms crossed, closed off from him. “I came here to speak with you.” He says calmly, trying to maintain the control he’s been losing all week. “Well you’re not doing much speaking.” You sigh. A beat of silence follows.

“I want you to come over… tonight…” He says in that soft tone again. In his mind the both of you just need some time and things can go back to normal. “We can cool off and then you can come over and we can just move on from this.” He says and leans back a bit as if that’s that. Everything’s fixed?

“What are you talking about?” You look at him like he’s from another planet. “Can’t we just move on from this?” He asks, patience running even thinner. “This has gone on long enough… I’m tired of it… come over…” He says again and he doesn’t even realize how disappointing this all is to you.

You sigh softly. Feeling let down. He couldn’t even apologize. Couldn’t fix the problem he created. He didn’t come here to explain, or apologize, or to check up on you. The words just start to flow now.

“So you just came here to get your dick wet, is that it?” You say and stare him dead in the eyes. But his expression changes, brow raises in a certain surprise. He wasn't expecting you to say something like that.

“No… I… I wanted to…” He starts but it’s like he can’t find the words. “I just wanted to see you.” He says feeling like he’s teetering on a very dangerous line right now. And silence follows.

Why must he be so confusing? It’s like he’s making it your fault that he has no idea what he wants or how he feels. This week started with you feeling so small and insignificant. You told yourself that he’d never talk to you again after the things he said. That he really regretted being with you. That you were never supposed to happen. Just like he said. But now he’s back and he doesn’t even apologize? He just wants to act like none of it ever happened? Like he didn’t break your heart?

“Why did you ask me to tutor you? That day?” You suddenly ask as it’s something you’ve been wondering and these are the things he’s not good at talking about. He knows all of this started with him acting like a greedy douchebag but he didn’t expect to feel this way towards you. He doesn’t want to tell you the real reason he invited you to his dorm a month ago. The real reason being he wanted a quick easy fuck with someone who seemed eager and innocent. He feels like a fucking jerk. “I don’t know…” He sighs and shakes his head, looking down at the table then back up at you. All your words just seem to come spilling out now.

“Well you knew that I liked you...” You state as if it should be obvious. “What do you mean?” He asks and your brow furrows. Is he serious? “You… you knew that I liked you. When you asked me to tutor you? A month ago??” You ask hopefully, trying to confirm what you hoped to be true. You had thought he knew you had feelings for him all this time. You even hoped those feelings were returned. “N-no I… I mean I assumed maybe you might have. I didn’t really think about it too much” He says a bit nervous about where this is going. His cool control slipping. But everyone likes him so it just makes sense that you would like him too. That’s why you didn’t refuse him. And it’s all getting twisted up in his head. “Didn’t think about it? Like… it wasn’t important to you whether I liked you or not?”

And the silence falls over the both of you right then. “Well then what is this? What have we been doing?” You frown at him, waving your hands in the air a bit because you just can’t understand how you got to this point and he just keeps acting so oblivious. And he’s losing control.

“No. Wait. I didn’t say it right. I-”

“Why did you start doing all this then? If you didn’t even like me in the first place?”

His eyes go wide, not having an answer that wouldn’t make you feel even worse. “I don’t know…” He says again. He doesn’t seem to know a goddamn thing. “Was it just to string me along?! Is this all just a joke to you?! Are you trying to make fun of me or something?” You press for answers, feeling more heartbroken the longer he doesn’t give you a real answer. “No! It’s not! I am not trying to make fun of you!” He exclaims, shaking his head. This isn’t going how he wanted. This is spinning out of his control and he’s on the verge of all this collapsing. If this happened with anyone else he’d just forget it ever happened in the first place. But he couldn’t forget you if he tried. He doesn’t understand that feeling.

“You’ve just admitted you didn’t even like me when you first started this… and after a month of me giving you nothing but sex, you still just ‘don’t know’?”

“No, that’s not what I mean.”

“That’s exactly what you just said! And apparently I was never even supposed to happen in the first place.” You throw his own words back at him and he scoffs before scrambling to explain himself in a way that won’t make you hate him even more.

“I freaked out… I don’t know why I freaked out. Can’t you just forget it? What I said was stupid I don’t even know what I was thinking…” He insists. “Seems like you were thinking a lot actually. That this was your plan all along. You don’t want a relationship, you just want a fucktoy…” You scoff and stand up from your seat, to which he immediately stands up too. His earlier confidence is crumbling.

“Come on, I was… drunk!” He scrambles to justify his outburst Sunday night.

“You said you weren’t drunk or were you lying about that too?” You move past him to grab your backpack from where he put it trying to keep it from you.

“Can you just come over? Let’s forget about this, this is a waste of time.” He begs and follows you around as you’re collecting your things off the table and shoving them into your backpack.

“I don’t think it’s a waste of time…” You say softly and shove your computer inside. “Yeah, well I do… you have wasted my time!” He raises his voice, trying to get a rise out of you but when he sees your disapproving expression he knows that wasn’t the right move. With one last zip, you’re starting to leave the empty library. And he follows frantically.

“W-Wait! Just wait… w-what do you want me to do? You want me to block Dana’s number? I’ll do it!” He’s speaking fast and frantic, reaching for your hand and holding it to stop you from leaving him.

“I don’t want you to block Dana’s number… I don’t care.” You sigh, completely over all of this. It’s too confusing. He’s a mess you’re not sure you want to be a part of.

“I’ll block her right now… you can watch me do it!

“Oh my god… enough…”

“Please.”

“Enough!!”

“I’ll cut her off… I don’t even want to see her anyway, I hate her…and we didn’t fuck on Sunday if that’s what you think!”

“Dana is not the problem”

“Dana must be the problem.”

“I’m telling you, she’s not!” You yell at him. And he finally shuts up, watching you wide eyed as you keep scolding him.

“Do you even hear yourself? D’you ever think that the problem might just be you? Are you incapable of just apologizing or do you genuinely not believe this is all your fault??! All of your problems just have to be other people’s problems right?!” And he flinches as you yell.

He’s stunned by your words and the volume with which you just scolded him. He knows he deserves it but he just can’t stop himself from arguing. He doesn’t want you to hate him even though he deserves it.

“Well I’m not perfect, okay? I can’t be…I can’t be perfect.” He pleads softly, holding onto your hand like a lifeline. A silent plea for you to not let go of him now.

“I’m not asking you to be perfect!”

His eyes stay wide. Staring at you like you’ve just told him a deep dark secret.

“I’m asking you to stop being a selfish asshole!!”

Your voice doesn’t echo in this place padded with old books and hardwood. It's sturdy and final. And finally it seems like you’re getting through to him. Maybe he’s understanding.

“Don’t tell me you don’t feel the same. Do not tell me I was making it all up in my head. I’m not the one misreading things. You are.” You say. Your voice is softer now. Fragile as you can see he’s thinking about all that you just said.

Tell her you’re sorry, Miguel. He thinks to himself. He knows everything you’ve said is what he needs to hear. He knows he hurt you. What he said was not okay. And now he’s made you upset and angry too.

“You’re right I… about everything…” He mumbles. Sighing and looking down. His fingers slipping away from your hand. Letting it go. Letting you go.

“I… I’m sorry.” He finally says. And you let his apology sit. Allowing yourself time to decide if you’ll accept. If he deserves it. The silence is deafening.

“I-I just…” He sighs deeply. At a loss for words. He just feels so stupid. Rubbing his forehead down to his cheek frustrated. Sighing ashamedly as he tries to think of what to say that could fix this. “You asked me… to tell you what I’m feeling and I-I don’t know…” He says softly. And you stare at him wide eyed as he admits this.

“What is that?” Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts for a moment. Looking back up at you confused. “Your hand.” You say, your eyes locked on his busted hand as he rubs his face. He pulls it behind his back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy. “It’s nothing I-” He painfully clenches his hand behind his back. The guilt is overwhelming. Please don’t feel bad for me. He thinks to himself. You’ve been far too patient with him.

“Show me.” You demand softly, looking in his eyes. And you’re serious. He sighs softly and brings his hand out, holding it out sheepishly to show you. The hand that’s held you, the hand that’s touched you… it’s cut up and bruised.

“What happened?” You ask sternly with a hardened expression when you finally see the cuts in his knuckles and the bruises. His hand is mangled, swollen, purple and clearly would cause anyone lots of pain. “Don’t lie to me.” You sternly say. And he doesn’t dare lie to you again. “I just… punched my locker.” He looks down ashamed. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. Broken and defeated. It’s not a good feeling, you don’t like seeing him like this. “When did this happen?” You ask firmly and he answers in a sigh. “Sunday.” Shoving his hand back in his pocket. It makes sense that he would have thrown a fit after he stormed out Sunday night. He must have been going about his week with his hand like that and not doing anything about it. “Did you go to the hospital?” He shakes his head at your question. Averting your gaze. “It’s gonna get worse if you don’t.” You insist and he just nods. For fear of his voice breaking if he found any words.

“I’m sorry Y/n… I’ll just go…” He says softly and steps back, and once again it’s like everything inside him is telling him to leave. You stand there. Not wanting to stop him this time. Watching him as he goes.

“You should go to the hospital.” You say soft and serious as he walks past you. Staying still and not attempting to stop him from leaving. You’ve made your point. And he didn’t win. But neither of you won tonight. He nods softly and keeps his head down, walking past you to leave the library. And he’s going to try his hardest not to bother you again. You’re so kind, so patient, so real. And he fucked up the one good thing he had going on. The one thing that made him feel good. Instead of belittling you, he should have acknowledged that he has some messy feelings of his own.

So he leaves. And you’re left standing in the library. You stood up for yourself. You told him off. But why do you feel so empty? Maybe it was seeing him so broken. When it comes to things that are good for him, he seems to forget himself.

He leaves the library silently. Walking down the dim hallways of the building and then outside. It’s raining again. It’s been raining pretty much all week. Pulling his hood up, he walks down the front steps of the academic building. Walking through the rain and not even bothering to run this time. Letting the rain pelt his sweatshirt, soak right through to his skin. He feels so stupid. He feels confused. And he feels sorry. But you deserve better than him.

Getting back to his residence building, he gets in the elevator. Staring at the floor and leaning his head against the wall as it travels up to his floor. He scoffs when the conversation replays in his head. His own words echoing and hearing himself act like such a dick. He didn’t know what other way to approach you other than to try and make things go back to normal. He wants things the way they were.

But he’s realizing the way things were is not fair to you. It’s not like all month the two of you just happened to cross paths. It’s not like you were sleeping with each other because there was no one else. It’s because neither of you can stay away from the other. It’s this messy obsession fueled with fire. He could touch you blind and know the pulse at your throat, the tips of your fingers, the plush of your stomach. He’d know the whispers of your voice, the fan of your breath over his cheek, the taste of your tongue. So then why is he so afraid? If he’s memorized every shimmering stretch mark, every inch of your skin, the sound of your voice, then why does he keep pushing you away?

He wants you to be his… but he wants to be yours just as much.

Miguel sighs as the elevator finally dings and the door opens. He keeps his head down, walking down the hall to his door. Unlocking it and walking inside. His hand hurts like hell. The cuts are just starting to heal but his fingers are still busted and swollen. It’s hard for him to open and close his hand all the way.

His phone rings, vibrating in his pocket as he peels off his wet hoodie and kicks his shoes off. Pulling it out from his pocket, he sees who’s calling. He didn’t expect it to be you. And it’s not. It’s his Father.

His heart sinks further, letting it ring, staring at the caller ID. This is the last thing he needs right now. Sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his vibrating phone in the palm of his hand, his eyes start to sting. Hot tears welling up and brimming in his eyes. When the ringing finally stops he drops his phone on the bed and drops his face into his hand. A shaky sigh trembling in his chest, swollen, hurting fingers clenching painfully on his lap. His arms wrap around himself, leaning over and down into his bed. He’s so tired. And he’s alone again just like always. He doesn’t feel bad for himself, he feels bad about himself. What is it about him that drives everyone away? You just answered that question for him tonight. It’s just him.

...

“It… makes me… feel… steady? Like… like there’s nothing to worry about. Or like… y’know…” He sighed, flipping over to lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling as you looked over at him across the pillows. The words felt trapped in his chest but they flowed like a river from his lips. “Like things feel slow...in a good way.”

…

He remembers saying that. He remembers meaning every word. Right now he feels anything but steady. He's collapsed.

His tears dry after a while and he keeps trying to just fall asleep and forget all of this. Even for just a few hours. But he can’t seem to just fall asleep. His head hurts and all he wants is to rest for once after this shitty week. But his running mind won’t let him.

His eyes crack open to check the time, his alarm clock blaring red in the darkness of his room. 2:17am. “Ugh…” He sighs, letting his head fall back onto the covers. He’s been sitting like this for hours now.

Knock knock knock.

He hears the knock on the door, flinching and sitting up slightly on his elbows. Watching the door and wondering if he’s hearing things. But there it is again. Three soft knocks.

“Miguel?” Your soft voice sounds from the other side of the door and he sits up completely. Eyes wide and heart thumping. This is his last chance. He can’t mess it up this time. He immediately gets up and turns on his desk light, running a hand through his hair and going to the door, unlocking the bolt and opening it. He doesn’t care if it seems desperate, he is desperate.

He looks smaller somehow. Or maybe you just feel bigger in some way. He’s staring at you as he stands in the opening of his door. And his immediate instinct is to try whatever he can to make things better.

“Y/n… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t hav-”

“Put your shoes on.” You shush him softly. You didn’t come here for an apology.

“What?” He steps forward, not understanding your request. It’s 2am and you’re both half asleep anyway.

“Put your shoes on please.” You say again. “And a hoodie or something, it’s cold outside.”

His brow furrows in confusion but he’s not going to argue with you right now. You’re here and talking to him so that’s what matters. Using his one good hand, he pulls his sneakers on at the door, grabbing his hoodie off the back of his desk chair. “Where are we going?” He asks and passes through his door to you. He’d go anywhere if it meant he could be with you right now. A soft hopeful expression on his face. “We’re going to the hospital.”

To be continued…

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#artists on tumblr #smut #artists on tiktok #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara smut #miguel #miguelohara #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguelito

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theealbatross · 22 days ago

Text

isn't it delicate? (s.s.)

Plot: Sebastian is your best friend ... right?

or, Sebastian is being bullied (false), you can't possibly be falling in love with him (false), and he might have already, possibly, maybe, fallen in love with you too (true).

Tags: fluff on crack, jealousy, seb is a shit senior/lowkey bully (not rlly), imelda and ominis deserves reparations for their service to wizardkind, yandere!seb if u squint, kinda ooc but who cares, mentions of death and murder (rip anne, rot in hell solomon)

[A/N: This is me trying to beat writer's block if you even care. The scene in his dorm was so fucking difficult to write it was beating my ass. Anyways stream Delicate by T.Swizzle. Also, none of the photos are mine don;t sue me im poor]

Autumn was your favorite season – especially since it makes your short walks to Hogsmeade especially scenic.

After accepting defeat and admitting that you were hopeless at Herbology, you have made it a point to visit the Magic Neep every weekend to buy whatever you haven’t gathered yourself. The walk was a good excuse to get out from the walls of Hogwarts every now and then.

It’s surprising how loose the villagers are with their gossip when they’re just talking to a teenager. Plus, you do enjoy spending the afternoon with Mr. Timothy as he helps you improve your rubbish-handling skills with plants.

A noise from above alerts you that Imelda had the rookies on her team running drills just outside the quidditch field. The new players fight through the wind resistance as they make sharp turns and loops while they scream at each other in encouragement.

However, you can’t help but notice when one of them pointed at you while the other flew towards the stadium in a haste as if his broom had been on fire.

Shrugging it off, you continued your pace, waving at familiar faces as you passed. You were just about to approach a couple of 2nd years you had been tutoring in Charms when there was a sharp breeze from above followed by a familiar silhouette dropping in front of you.

“Fun walk, pet?” he smirked when you jumped in surprise, roping you into a hug. From behind you, he casually shoo-ed off the 2nd years with a subtle flick of his head.

“Ew, Sebastian, no! You’re sweaty!”

Rather than acting like a gentleman, he drew you in close, leaning down to rub his cheeks against your neck despite your shrieks of protest as he lifted your feet off the ground.

Finally, you managed to push his stubborn form away, wiping away the skin that was now smeared in his sweat but he still managed to get ahold of your hand, pulling you close so you had to look up at him. Bastard.

Suddenly, it clicks, “Did you seriously have your rookies keep an eye on me?”

“It’s good practice,” He shrugged shamelessly, looking up at them in scrutiny, “Trains them to have sharp eyes, remain vigilant of their surroundings, and watch out for pretty witches on the ground that might be distracting while they’re in the skies.”

You slapped his chest, trying to ignore the burn on your face from his casually tossed compliments—and how solid he felt beneath his gear. “You and your brilliant ideas, Sallow.”

With the backbreaking, secret work (“You’ll see it soon enough, pet”) he does in Feldcroft to pass time along with the training he receives from Imelda along with a sprinkle of his glorious genetics, it was no wonder his social standing recovered as quickly as it did even when whispers of forbidden magic still followed him wherever he goes.

Not that he cared, you noticed. As he was clearly more than satisfied in spending his time with the same circle of friends despite the many girls that were bidding their time to steal him.

“Soooo, is there a real reason you had them monitoring me or is it just your unique form of torture?”

“Oh right,” you didn’t notice before but he had been carrying one of his satchels, digging into it to pull a grey knitted scarf that had an owl at the end of it. Before you could say anything, he was already wrapping it around your neck, even pulling up your hair for a second and tutting under his breath how ‘you never dress warm enough’. “It’s your scarf for autumn.”

It was tradition – something that started the first time you visited Feldcroft and he had let you borrow a spare scarf from his closet because you had lost yours in your haste to get to him. It was silly but that was the first time (aside from the troll) the two of you got into a real battle with only each other to watch the other’s back.

The scarf had become a source of comfort, especially on the nights that you had to do it on your own.

However, to Sebastian’s horror, you had worn the piece of cloth ragged. Refusing to let go of it because it was the first gift he had given to you. From then on, a compromise was established, he would be in charge of buying (and confiscating) your scarfs and you would pay him for it.

Only one of you held your end of the deal.

“And wear this,” he pushed your head on the hole of a sweater, helping you find the arms despite your grumblings about his fussing. “It’s getting colder now and you never wear your coat. And since we're always together, If you get sick that means I get sick. So please,” he glares at your petulant pout. “Spare us both.”

“I’m sorry, mom,” you rolled your eyes. He pinched your cheeks painfully. “Hey!”

“No smart talk,” he chastises, chuckling. “And you better be back in the Great Hall once I’m finished here.”

You wave him off as you walk away. “Why? I like having you chase me around.”

“Don’t even think about it!” He screams, hands on his hips.

You laugh, poking your tongue out at him.

“Thanks for the scarf!”

“Do you have drills this weekend, ‘melda?”

Imelda stopped chewing her food to look at you with a raised, suspicious, brow. “No, why?”

You clapped your hands cheerfully, “I wanted to take Sebastian out on a day trip to Pitt-Upon-Ford before you guys start training for the upcoming game. One of the villagers told me a wild Dugbog was getting too aggressive and started killing their chickens.”

She nodded understandingly.

“Not the most romantic date but sure, just bring him back to the Quidditch Pitch in one piece by Monday.”

The nonchalant accusation plucked just the right string as your face morphed into a mixture of surprise, discomfort, and a hint of embarrassment. “It’s not a date! And how would you know what’s romantic?”

Imelda chuckled, raising her hands in mock surrender, “Alright, alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“Melda!” you shrieked, face heating up even more when you realized you had caught the attention of other students at the nearby tables. “I’m just worried about him.”

That made the Quidditch Captain frown, what is there to worry about? Is Sebastian having a tough time again? Imelda may be a bit dense regarding other people’s emotions but even she could tell losing his uncle and his twin sister in such quick succession had quite a toll on her friend.

It would take quite a toll on anyone.

But Imelda was sure he had been managing well, especially with his dearest witch by his side who, if the rumor mills were to be believed, basically spent all summer nursing him back to health. Not that she could blame her, from what Ominis told Imelda, Sebastian had damn near been catatonic and wouldn’t give anyone the time of the day unless it was you.

“Is he alright?”

You were quick to wave off her worries with a hand and a nervous smile, “No, he’s fine! Doing better than fine. It’s just … I’m worried he might be getting … bullied.”

In the confusion between laughing or swallowing or insisting that even a full-grown troll wouldn’t be able to bully Sebastian Sallow, Imelda instead choked on the pumpkin juice she was nursing.

“Imelda!”

She stops your fussing with a raised hand before speaking through the pain. “What *cough* What ever gave you such a ludicrous idea?”

You fiddle with your hands, clearly having kept this ceaseless worry for quite a bit of time. “Because Sebastian – ever since – he’s not particularly … very nice. Plus, there are all these ridiculous rumors of him being a dark wizard,” you roll your eyes but Imelda can still see the poorly concealed anxiety in them. “I’m scared he’s being ostracized. And I can’t be with him forever, you know.”

“Did you tell him that? Because I have a baaaad feeling the two of you aren’t on the same page.” Imelda is fairly certain Sebastian has already named their future children and dogs if you asked her. And if there was anyone that could have some sort of sway on that stubborn mule it would probably be you.

You shook your head, “He’s a man. He’ll just tell me not to worry about it.”

“Not worry about what?”

“Godric’s bloody heart! Sebastian, you scared me!”

“She thinks you’re being bullied.”

Without missing a beat Sebastian just bashfully smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before straddling the bench to sit facing you amidst Imelda’s gagging. “Aw, you’re sweet, pet.”

Imelda watched in horror and disbelief as Sebastian just ignored her and cooed at you, teasingly trying to press kisses at your cheeks while you pushed away his face.

“Are you not even gonna deny that?”

“Should I?” Sebastian continued to stare as you stood up quickly, a flimsy excuse of getting some pastries on the other side of the table while huffing at Sebastian about misbehaving in public and creating misunderstandings. “I quite like it when I’m the only thing in her mind.”

“You’re seriously sick in the head, you know that?” she crosses her arms, studying him as his eyes stayed stuck while you got roped into a conversation with other students you were too polite to end quickly.

Sebastian just grinned, popping a grape into his mouth. “Of course, I know that.”

Suddenly, his gaze shifted to the side, spotting a sixth-year slyly stealing glances and eavesdropping on their conversation. He slammed his hands on the table, startling them. “Can I help you?”

“N-No – I’m sorry, Sebastian!”

Imelda shook her head, as the nosy students dispersed, prematurely ending their dinners. “Bullied, my arse.”

“Oh, if we have drills this weekend I won’t go, we’re going on a date.”

“I know that, Sallow.”

“Cheers, Reyes,” Sebastian tapped his fingers on the table twice and winked at his captain goodbye. Imelda watched as her prized beater decided he was done sharing you for the night. In a speed befitting a Seeker, he walked in your direction to grab you and your plate full of sweets towards the exit as you haphazardly screamed a goodbye to the witch.

Imelda stares at her cup before sighing, “Merlin, help her.”

Last night was the first time you had a dream about him.

Not a nightmare of losing him or a terrible recollection of the crimes you have buried together in the past – but a dream. A sweet, fuzzy dream that had you staring at your ceiling in a confusing blend of horror and butterflies as fuzzy memories of the touch of his lips on yours burned your cheeks.

You slap a pillow over your face.

“No, no, no.”

It would have been easier if it had been a nightmare. With one letter you and Sebastian would already be cocooned up the Room of Requirement and you would find sleep again under his careful watch.

But who do you call for this? When the one person you tell everything to is the one who can’t know.

This can’t be happening. You can’t do this to him.

You’ve been faintly aware of an attraction budding inside of you for your dear friend but you thought it was normal. Who wouldn’t be attracted to Sebastian?

He was tall, tanned, broad, and had that irresistible, mischievous grin that spells trouble—but somehow, it works. Because handsome features aside, he was protective, thoughtful, and was someone you could talk to for the rest of your days and never get bored with.

He’s your best friend.

And …

And you dreamt of kissing him.

You scream into your pillow.

Along with the life-shattering realization in the dark of the night is another horrible one in the morning: you’re probably not the only one who dreamt of kissing him.

You stare in horror at the small crowd of giggling girls that trailed after him, roping him into a conversation even when he politely excused himself once he saw you.

When has this happened?

The year you met, the two of you had been bombarded with problems bigger than each other that silly things like romance and crushes and jealousy were shoved and locked to the back of your minds. The year after that was spent recovering -- you had basically spent all of your days huddled together in whatever corner you both could find, too on guard to even think of socializing properly with other students.

Now, as you stand next to him, on the way to your next class, you finally see what you had been so obtusely blind to.

In a moment of grim clarity, you twigged that your good friend, one you had barely accepted as the boy that holds your adoration, was a handsome, talented gentleman in the race to become the most successful wizard to graduate in your year.

Of course, he would be bloody popular.

“Hey.”

You were so used to being at the center of all his attention (as depressing the context was) that you didn’t even comprehend otherwise – missed the flutter of their lashes, their shy giggles as he passed, or the coquettish whispers that followed him wherever he goes despite his aloof demeanor.

A couple of 5th-year Ravenclaws greet Sebastian sweetly as you pass by. You flinch at the tilt in their voice.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian notices the grimace in your face as you turn a corner, hands quickly soothing the back of your spine.

Well, you definitely see it now.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

Avoiding him was definitely the wrong move – heedless, moronic, selfish –

But in your panic, it was the only move you had.

So, yes, it is horrendously short-term and stupid and back floating in the middle of the Black Lake in the morning of your weekend even more so.

Still, you and Sebastian had agreed months before the start of the term to pick mostly the same subjects as your last year, an idea that is now gloriously clashing with your ‘avoiding-him’ plans. Hence, you had no choice but to find solace in the big lake, submerging your ears under the water to tune out the noise of the rest of the world as you tried to think out of this predicament you have checkmated yourself in.

You are a brilliant student, a great strategist, and a powerful witch; you should be able to fix this.

He is suspicious, you know him well enough to know he’s slowly catching on to the fact that you would rather fight a graphorn wandless than be anywhere near him. He won’t be able to let it go. He’ll dig his claws in your brain and rip the reasons out of your mouth himself – which is something he definitely can’t find out.

You … like Sebastian – might even love him.

It’s the first time you admitted it to yourself, dunking yourself in the frigid waters to scream underwater (scaring the poor squid) before floating on your back again when you’ve sufficiently calmed down. You must positively look like an idiot but you have bigger fishes to fry than looking sane.

“I love Sebastian,” you whispered, trying and failing to get used to the idea, even if it was just on your tongue.

Should you tell him? That would be … difficult.

Everything is too delicate.

Your friendship was barely dangling on a thread a few months ago. If it wasn’t for your insistence to spend your summer together mending whatever was left of him and your bond outside the horrors in Feldcroft and in the small estate Professor Fig had left for you, you might’ve lost him altogether.

He tries hard to move on from it, to atone quietly, become a better man but you know he’s still struggling. On the worst nights you’ll find him staring at the empty walls of the Undercroft curled in on himself until you unwrap him out of his worst nightmares and into your arms.

Your feelings seemed infinitesimal compared to the demons he is fighting inside his head.

Does he even feel the same? Would he?

If you tell him, would you just become another one of his problems?

You slapped a hand on the water, trying to find the best outlet to let out your frustrations so you could piece together some form of answer or plan, cursing when a drop of water conveniently landed on your eye.

Realistically, he has his pick of the litter right now. Pretty girls tripping over themselves to be noticed by him. Beautiful, untraumatized, clean slates who would definitely be a sweeter companion than you.

The thought of seeing him with another makes your hands tremble – a strange combination of unjust anger, boiling jealousy, and a hint of heavy sadness flowing in your veins.

It feels strange to have your roles flipped. When you had arrived you were the new kid, a limelight at your every move and it was Sebastian who was always chasing after you, beating anyone else to hog your attention. As sick as it is to admit, you preferred it that way.

Being the jealous one wasn’t the kind of tune you were used to dancing in.

If you weren’t so caught up with saving the world maybe you would’ve been able to chain him to you.

Maybe it is too late now.

It feels unfair to add your confusion and emotions as yet another burden for Sebastian, who already carries so much. He’s happy now, finally finding some peace and stability. You refuse to be the one to break it all down.

You won't be another sin he'll have to take responsibility for, another person he stands to lose.

It's fine. This is fine.

“Accio.”

Your view went from the blue sky to a haze as you got rudely plucked out of the water and back into shore, face-to-face with the boy who had haunted your every waking (and sleeping) moment.

If you hadn’t been so dizzied you would’ve been offended.

“S-Sebastian?”

He does not look pleased. Fuck, fuck, fu –

“How many times must I tell you I don’t like chasing you around.” He quips but quickly removes his robes to wrap them around you. It was only when your feet were back on the ground did you realize all the eyes on you and the scene he had created.

Sebastian glared at the group of boys gawking and they scattered like ants. What a tyrannical senior he had turned out to be. You can’t believe you were worried about him getting harassed a few weeks ago. “We’re going back to the dorm to get you changed.”

Wait – what – “’s going on?”

One second you were having a heartbreaking crisis in the lake and in a blink, you were in his arms getting dragged barefooted back up the stairs.

He suddenly stopped waking, your face smashing into his back. You took quick steps backward when he gave you the most offended look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Oh no, you’ve messed up somehow. “Did you have somewhere more important to be than on one of my games?”

Ohhhh shit.

“N-No! I – I didn’t forget I swear it just … slipped my mind for a moment –”

And you didn’t! You even prepared your ensemble for today last night; it was hanging on your closet before you left your room. However, as you focused on not being seen by Sebastian the day had escaped you.

Your excuses seemed to just infuriate him even further because he just firmly grabbed your hand again and tugged you into the nearest floo. When you have teleported to the familiar walls of your Common Room you stopped on your tracks at the risk of lighting his fuse.

“I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t forget. I have my outfit ready in my –”

He stared, looking over your (no doubt) pitiful dripping form before sighing, pulling you so he could wrap an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s go to my room. We need to talk.”

It shouldn’t make you feel like a sulking child, but the way you are trailing from beside him with your head down had you fitting just the part. However, two firm squeezes on your shoulders were Sebastian’s silent way of telling you he wasn’t bringing you to his abode for a fight.

With his door closed and a quick silencing charm (when has he gotten so good at Charms) he was quick to pull out a spare skirt from the bottom of his bunk, unhooking one of his jerseys before handing it to you.

“Is this my skirt?”

A less secure boy would’ve been flustered but he just shrugged, you hate how his confidence just made him more attractive. “You left it when we were studying late here and you borrowed one of my sleeping shorts. Figured I’d just keep it here in case of emergencies.”

Even his reasoning was perfectly endearing and thoughtful. Clearing your throat, you gave him a grateful smile before going behind the dressing screen.

It was a few minutes of reprieve before he started his interrogation.

“Care to explain why I’ve barely seen you today?”

“Oh, I was just bu –”

“Or this entire week at all?”

You silently winced, seriously considering just apparating from behind the flimsy wood separating you. Though you had a feeling he'd just hunt you down again and that would just be awkward.

Because as much as he claims to hate chasing you, he does a perfectly good job at it.

Peeking from behind the wooden cover you flinched when he was already staring.

With a quiet sigh, he unwrapped his scarf from his own neck and threw it on his bed, his hands enclosed around each other as he leaned on his legs.

“I’m all ears, darling.” His frustration was evident, yet he was clearly extending his patience for you—a surprise, given his reputation for having a short fuse.

You finish zipping up your clothes, steeling yourself from behind the wooden screen before finally gathering all the courage you could muster and finally going out of your hiding spot and meeting his eye.

It was silent for a couple of long seconds before he decides to cut the tension by reaching out a reassuring hand which you quickly and gratefully accepted, letting yourself be dragged in between his legs as he stares up at you.

“Did I do something?”

“No!” You quickly reach a hand to his messy, brown, locks to placate him. A small smile gracing your face when he nodded quietly, earnest eyes hanging on to your every word. “It’s just …”

You squeaked when the door suddenly opened.

“Sebastian, Imelda said to get on the fie –”

“Out!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know your girlfriend – the captain said – I’ll let her know! I’m sorry!”

The door slammed with an echo, and Sebastian slumped into your stomach, hands loosely on the back of your knees. Despite the relief at being cut off, you can’t help but share his frustration. However, it didn't escape your notice his failure to correct what you believe is a common assumption among his teammates.

“We should go before it’s Imelda who bursts in next time. I think she won’t be as kind to your door.”

He sighs, nods, and stands up. However, instead of guiding you back to the floo he pulled you closer into him until you had to stand on the tip of your toes. His hooded eyes run through every inch of your face as he cradles it firmly, his work-worn thumb caressing your cheek gently while his other hand pulls you until you have to rely on his solid body for balance.

“Don’t think we’re finished talking about this,” he warns, his grip on your cheeks going tighter for a split second as the intensity of his gaze sharpens and he returns to the sweet, charming boy that stole your heart.

This is exactly what you had feared. Secrets weren’t a concept familiar to the two of you. Now that he had sniffed it out, it is only a matter of time before he gets to the bottom of it.

He gives you a mischievous smile at the unmistakable horror and guilt on your face, then leans in to press a kiss to your hairline. "Stop trying to run away from me while I'm still being nice."

"This is you being nice?" you tease but he only chuckles. "Maybe I should be running faster."

"You can play chase all you want, pet. But your chances of getting away from me are --" He mouths 'zero'.

"Oh? Zero?"

"To none."

The two of you laugh, and all at once, the small argument, the days spent avoiding him, and the guilt you feel about your emotions are lifted from your chest as you reach a bittersweet conclusion.

This was for the best.

This is how it's supposed to be. You shouldn't ask for more, not right now.

As long as he can keep laughing like a boy his age should after being forced to grow up so fast, and you remain each other's safe haven you can always retreat to, and he continues to look at you just ... like ... that ...

And you see it. Clear as day, you almost want to laugh at how silly and blind you had been.

In fast progression, you run through your memories, and it feels like falling through the ice-cold waters of the lake surrounding Hogwarts, like the path to Hogsmeade after an autumn rain -- clear and refreshing.

He hooks a strand of hair behind your ear and you realize that he knows you've finally figured it out.

"Is that a promise?" you ask.

It should be terrifying, it should terrify you – what you realize is his need for control of everything regarding you, his barely hidden obsession you had missed all this time, his unwavering dedication that only now did you see the depth of.

Instead, you beam, heart fluttering and meeting his commitment with a kiss pressed on his thumb.

You’re in love with Sebastian Sallow.

And for the first time since the two of you met, you finally see it – Sebastian Sallow might also be a bit in love with you.

"I promise."

“I know it’s been a while since I’ve been here but has the house gotten bigger?”

Sebastian stops his search on one of the chests in the storage to look back on his friend by the door. He looks up at the ceiling as if just noticing himself. “Oh, yeah, I did work on it over the past summers.”

Ominis frowned, raising his wand in different directions to get a clearer visualization of the new space, “I thought you spent the summer at her place?”

“I spent the first month finishing everything then flew back to hers for the rest. I’ve been working on it since the end of 5th year so there wasn’t much left to be done. It's honestly a good way to practice Charms.”

The Gaunt scion could barely believe the nonchalance in his statement, “And you added a second floor to your house because …?”

“Aha!”

In Sebastian’s hand was a fancy, brown velvet box, the emblem of the nearly fallen Sallow line embossed on the lid. With a quick peek, he confirmed that his mother’s ring was still safely tucked inside.

“Merlin, Sebastian.”

Ominis could almost hear his grin as he patted the dust off his pants before walking back to his frozen friend. “Are you planning to wed her by the time we graduate? Have you even courted her yet?!”

Sebastian just shrugged, looking around the house, a sense of pride filling his chest when he saw how perfect everything had been. Every nook and cranny made with only the thought of you in mind. Even the reading room you had mentioned in passing was thoughtfully plopped close to the backyard where he had hoped to improve your Herbology skills in the future when he manages to drag you into it.

“We don’t have to be married if she doesn’t want to be but we’re definitely getting engaged, I’m not risking it.”

“And you’re sure she’ll say yes?”

Sebastian scoffs and Ominis unfortunately quietly agrees at the stupidity of his question.

Ominis should be scandalized. The quiet, conservative part of him wants to scream about the impropriety of it all. However, with how headstrong you are and how stubborn Sebastian is he knew it would be a waste of his breath to scream about decorum and the formality of proper courting.

“Does she know about your grand plans yet?”

Sebastian slipped the box into the pocket on the inside of his coat. “My darling’s a skittish one but she’s getting there,” he smirks, the memory of the look of dawning on your face in his dorm room making his chest flutter in excitement. “If I make any moves now, I fear she’ll fly away.”

“Well, if a man told me he’s been obsessed with me from the moment we met to the point of building an entire house for a hypothetical future he has built for us without any of my say I’d be bolting for the hills too.”

Sebastian pushed the other boy enough to make him stumble.

“You wouldn’t understand, Omi,” he grins, smug. “We’re kindred spirits,” he releases the word like it had always been written – a fate he, for the first time in his stubborn life, was willingly letting himself get swayed into. “It was always going to end this way.”

Ominis couldn’t help but agree, both because of his confidence for his dear friend and a healthy part of it is of the potential horror he fears Sebastian would unleash on any other man that might risk taking you away from him.

He'd fancy not hiding another murder from the Ministry.

“For all our sake, I hope so too.”

“Sebastian?”

“Yes, pet?”

Sebastian casually flicks into the next page of the book carefully placed on your lap as you sit comfortably astride him. The wrinkle in between his brows a manifestation of his frustration with the Advanced Potions he was studying.

You could feel the stares and hear the whispers. Two of the younger Headboys tried to pretend not to see you improperly sitting in his lap while a group of girls gave you sharp glares as they passed by. You burrow yourself deeper into his lap, not forgetting to stare back with a sweet smile.

“Do you think we should start dating?”

Sebastian freezes, the speed at which his iris moved from the ink on the pages to your eyes was almost too comical but you held back your laugh, not giving him any space to misunderstand your words.

He does nothing but stare for the next 5 seconds before nodding, pushing a hand to rummage in his pocket before placing and opening a pretty brown box with a simple but beautifully carved ring inside it.

“Since we're already graduating, girlfriend seems a bit juvenile,” he clears his throat casually but a shake in his voice betrays his nerves. “Isn't it?”

You forced yourself to close your mouth as you stared at what undoubtedly is the Sallow’s family ring. It was only when he had plucked out the precious jewelry and gently slipped it into your finger that you finally managed to break yourself out of your stupor.

You sniff, now finally looking back at him, “You and your brilliant ideas, Sallow.”

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow headcannons #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfiction

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pawsci · 1 year ago

Text

ethan landry — touchy

warnings: smut. porn what plot, ( kindve pleasure / service ) dom ethan, but he’s a little mean. thigh riding, petnames, praise, teasing, degradation if you squint. a nice healthy sprinkle of dumbifictation, use of ‘sir’ like once. edging ( ? ), small bit of aftercare.

let me know if i missed anything, it’s a little short if i’m bein honest T_T

extra: no ghostface, a little bit inspired by a tiktok i found. ( @suomae, just my own twist. )

uh reader doesn’t really speak, too dumbed out

summary: 🤭🤭

ethan landry, seemingly an angel, a dork of some sort but behind closed doors.. man was he much different than the nerd boy facade he puts out. he was a hungry man and you were more than willing to give him what he wanted.

you were sitting on ethan’s lap, facing away from him as he did some work on the computer, you were busying yourself on your phone, playing minecraft, you were decorating yours and ethan’s house right now, tongue stuck out in concentration which he found adorable. his head was laying on your shoulder, occasionally kissing the exposed skin.

he was wearing light grey sweats and a black wife beater pleaser and you were wearing a spaghetti strap, and some cotton panties, chad was out on a trip with tara so there was no need to cover up. his hands found purchase on your lower stomach as he watched a video, a video explaining who knows what. your breath hitches and he notices, keeping his warm hands on your stomach, rubbing up and down a bit. you bite your lip to stifle a moan. he smirks at that.

“jesus baby, it’s practically dripping in my lap now.” he noticed the way you bit your lip and the video was long forgotten. you let out a whimper and his hand travels lower, yet not exactly where you need him. “keep making those sounds, pretty girl. love it when you whine f’me.” he gently grabs the phone from you and saves the world, putting it on the table and closing his computer.

he decided physics could wait. his girl was all sensitive and needy, how could he resist such a beautiful girl like you. all he could hear was your whimpers and he loves every second of it. he orders you to stand up and you do, he slowly takes off your utterly soaked panties, shoving them in your mouth to use as a makeshift gag. the action surprises you but you say nothing, not that you could anyways. tasting yourself was always weird but not unwelcomed.

he settles you on his right thigh. “y’know what to do, start movin’. this is the only way you’re getting off tonight. punishment for distracting me from my work.” well, you take what you can get so you don’t complain. you start to move your hips and his hands settle on them, helping you move back and forth. “atta girl, just like that. get off on my thigh.” you whimper and he his hands start moving up, removing your tank top, he grabs your boobs. he kneads them and it only makes you wetter. if that was even possible.

you’ve been at this for who knows how long, because as soon as you start feeling that high his hands stop you from moving but you’re too dumbed out to even speak, only moans and whines left your lips and it was pure heaven for ethan, but quite literal hell to you. he’s raking it all in, eyes not leaving you even once. finally letting you move your hips again. he almost forgets to stop you because you looked so pretty like that, he loves it when you cry and beg.

“please, need you s’bad.” you cry out, well as best as you could with your own panties in your mouth. “what was that baby? ya say something?” all he did was laugh at you, at how absolutely pathetic you looked right now, all fucked out. “barely even touched you, and you’re already begging for more.” he pinches your nipples and you swear you saw god.

he takes the panties out of your mouth, the taste of cotton still on your tongue as a reminder. he puts them in his pocket opposite of the leg you’re fucking yourself on currently. “i- i said please. i need you so bad.” he meanly replies. “i don’t think so baby, i think you can get off like this. can’t you? slut.” his words were absolutely filthy and it only made you move your hips faster. “that’s a good girl. fuck, you look so good like this.” the way his voice was practically vibrating in your ear, the way his hands didn’t stop touching you, his kisses on your shoulders and the way he practically is moving you himself. it was all too much.

“please i wanna cum oh sir please let me cum.” you begged and begged. he groans and he feels his cock strain against his boxers, dick twitching as soon as you called him sir, making him weak. besides who was he to deny you when you were oh so pretty when you begged. “awh look at you asking so nicely, well since you’ve been such a good girl for me, yes you can cum.” so many “thank you’s” fell from your lips it was all becoming blurry, barely even hearing him say yes, chasing your own orgasm. “i’m gonna- fuck, i’m gonna cum.” you practically yell that out.

“go ahead and cum, pretty girl. make a mess on my thigh.” and you did, and it hit you like a truck. so hard that your vision turns white for a few seconds. you almost fell forward if it weren’t for the hands holding you up, you feel them cup your face but you feel faint, almost like falling asleep. you close your eyes to rest them for a bit.

“baby? come back to me. it’s okay, you’re okay.” he realizes you’re still in the headspace and he picks you up bridal style. he ran a bath, gently placing you in the tub. he doesn’t wash your hair since you’re in and out of consciousness and washing the hair of someone who’s head keeps falling forward isn’t very fun. he smiles to himself, loving the vibe he’s created. he tells you how good you were and all you could do was nod and smile at his words.

after he’s done he picks you up and dries you, carrying you to the bed before placing you down, he puts you in one of his shirts and his boxers since he didn’t want too much pressure on where you’re sensitive ( don’t worry these are new. ) he takes his own shower and dressed himself in new sweats and no shirt, throwing the dirty clothes in the hamper. he took care of himself in the shower. you start to come to as he settles in after turning off the lights. groggily you sit up and rub your eyes which he finds so so cute.

“hey baby, you doin alright?” you nod. “words, pretty girl.” he says. “yeah i’m fine, e. you doin okay?” you suddenly ask, cuddling up to him. “oh my oh so sweet and considerate girl, i am doing fantastic.” he smiles at you, holding you close. you cuddled into him before speaking.

“you need aftercare just as much as i do, e. let me hold you. you’ve done enough for me.” his heart softens at that, you truly did care about him. “fine i’ll listen, i love being babied.” you smile at that before changing positions, his head on your chest as you play with his hair while giving him forehead kisses. with a sigh of content you both drift to sleep.

, posersays : tehee :3 hope u like . uhm third fic and it’s almost pure filth.. i don’t know if i like this one or not tbh..

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 1 year ago

Note

Hi. I read your work on Ao3 and I saw that you said we could come here and leave a request. Can you write something with Crosshair x fem reader with the prompt "What kind of spell did you put on me?" And if I can help you with the plot, maybe the reader could be a shy doctor who agreed to work with the boys when everyone else rejected it. There aren't many stories out there with Crosshair and a shy reader. You choose whether there will be smut or not. xoxo 🌺

Thank you so much, anon. Writing a shy reader was fun. I hope I did it justice! Kept this one SFW.

Cracks in the Wall

Not much could ruffle Crosshair's feathers or get past the wall he'd built around himself over the years - until he met you.

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: sibling banter/teasing, shy!reader, doctor!reader, Cross doesn’t know what to do with feelings but he’s trying okay, sprinkle of self-doubt from both Cross and reader, alludes to medical trauma, fluff, softness, cheeky lil’ kiss, pet names.

“Off somewhere?” Hunter’s voice cuts through their shared barracks, stopping Crosshair as he heads for the door. He’s careful to keep his voice even, suppressing the smile that’s trying to appear.

Crosshair grits his teeth, freezing at his older brother’s question. He’d hoped to get away with minimal fuss, but the Maker didn’t look to be on his side today. “Fresh air.” He answers cooly with a slight shrug, sliding effortlessly behind a mask of indifference.

“Right…” Hunter drags out the word, raising an eyebrow as he glances out the panoramic window. “In the storm?” He clarifies, knowing eyes turning back to his baby brother.

“Nah, he’s slinking off to see that pretty doctor again, ain’t ya?” Wrecker steamrollers, not one to miss the opportunity to tease Crosshair. He sits on the edge of his bunk, leaning forward like an excited child about to be told a deep secret.

Crosshair doesn’t dignify the question with an answer, though nerves have him sliding the toothpick between his lips to the other side of his mouth.

Tech knows he shouldn’t torment his twin, but when it’s been so beautifully laid out for him, he would be remiss not to. “Feeling unwell again?” He asks, tone neutral though the mirth in his eyes is unmissable.

The frustrated grunt Crosshair lets out makes his brothers chuckle, and he stalks from the room, the sound of their combined laughter only dying out once the door slides shut behind him.

Making his way down the corridor towards the medbay, the sterile white halls of Kamino make him squint, the light unnecessarily bright. He hates the constant noise and busyness here, the Regs sneering at him as he passes. He hates how sterile everything is and all the memories of being tested and tormented as a cadet.

But that hatred evaporates as he rounds the corner and spots your name on the board for ‘on duty’ doctors. At least there was one good thing about coming back.

Crosshair’s pace slows as he reaches the doors to the medbay, pesky nerves settling into his gut. He takes a moment to compose himself, adjusting his armour and smoothing a hand over his hair. He might be an expert marksman on the battlefield, but the prospect of a simple conversation with you has him feeling oddly out of his element.

You were the only doctor who’d tend to him and his brothers when they were injured, the only one willing to adapt how you worked to suit their differences. The memories of your considerate actions flood his mind – dimming the lights so he doesn’t have to squint, providing candy to uplift Wrecker’s spirits, explaining procedures to Tech, and creating a more comfortable space for Hunter’s senses. It wasn’t just out of professional duty; there was a personal touch, a kindness rarely extended to him and his brothers.

Somewhere along the way, Crosshair had found himself replaying your interactions like a cherished film, analysing every word and every gesture, searching for any signs that you enjoyed his company as much as he did yours. You never pushed or asked too much of him, never complained when he denied a test, and you didn’t draw attention to the way his body betrayed him by trembling ever so slightly whenever you approached with a needle for blood tests or booster shots.

With a deep breath, he pushes open the medbay doors. The familiar hum of medical equipment and the crisp scent of bacta greet him as he steps inside. Memories try to resurface, but he battles them down, even as his heart races.

The medbay is relatively quiet, with a few Regs resting in recovery beds and a medical droid diligently tending to its duties. And there, at the back of the room, head bent over a datapad, he spots you. He hesitates for a moment, watching you work. He shouldn’t be disturbing you; he knows you’re always busy, but since Tech had informed him that they were heading back to Kamino, he hasn’t been able to shake the urge to see you, speak to you, and exist in the same space as you.

As he approaches, his boots make a minimal sound on the pristine floor, and he clears his throat, his usually confident demeanour faltering in the presence of the one person who manages to unravel his composure. “Hey.” His voice breaks the silence, though it doesn’t draw the attention of the Regs or droids.

Caught off guard, you startle a little, glancing up. Your eyes widen slightly as you take in the man standing before you. Elation floods your body as you gaze into the sharp brown eyes you’d come to adore, and relief follows quickly at the realisation that he’s in one piece and has survived whatever mission he’d been sent on recently. For the longest time, you’d tried to convince yourself that your care for the quiet sniper was solely professional, but you were fooling no one. “Cross… you’re back.” You greet him, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

He’d never admit it, but warmth spreads through his chest at the nickname. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He mutters, sliding his toothpick back to the other side of his mouth.

Your eyes track the movement of the toothpick before flicking up to meet his gaze, offering him a warm smile. “No problem. Just caught up in the datapad, you know how it is.”

He nods, though internally, he’s relieved by your easy response. The following silence is awkward, and your gaze dips away momentarily, but you take the initiative and set aside the datapad. “What brings you to the medbay today? Not feeling under the weather, I hope?” You inquire, concern evident in your expression.

Guilt churns in Crosshair’s gut, but he refuses to let it show. He can’t help himself. “Feeling off.” He states, the lie rolling from his tongue with ease.

With a slight frown of concern, you gesture towards the private consultation room, a familiar song and dance now. Crosshair enters the room first, depositing his toothpick in the trash can near the door before he slides himself up to sit on the exam bed while you enter. The door clicks shut, and you fall into a standard med check routine.

Crosshair answers your questions with his usual brevity, providing enough information to satisfy your professional curiosity and cover up that he’s lying to be here with you. As you work, the tension in the room eases.

As you move to the physical examination, you watch as Crosshair pries his left hand plate and gauntlet off, enabling you to slide your fingers under the cuff of his blacks, pointer and middle fingers pressed to his wrist, counting the beats of his heart.

Despite his best efforts to remain indifferent, he can’t help but feel warm at your touch, heart rate elevating.

Under your fingers, you feel his pulse quicken. It’s throwing off your count, and you know that once again, you won’t get an accurate figure, but you don’t draw attention to it, blissfully believing it was his anxiety at being in the medbay. Selfishly, you enjoy this part the most. Crosshair is warm to the touch, skin surprisingly soft, and you can stand a little closer than usual, enabling you to breathe in a scent you’ve come to associate with him – regulation body wash, blaster cleaner, and a sour sweetness you’re sure is from candy. You’ve seen how he eyes up the sour gummies you hand to Wrecker whenever you’ve finished patching up or looking over the gentle giant.

After a minute, you draw your hand back, offering a slight nod, which sees him sliding his armour back into place. Lifting your pointer finger, you wait for his gaze to snap towards it, and then you watch as he tracks it side to side, up and down, near and far. You’d recommended the addition of this check when you’d learned about his enhancements – never a defect, in your opinion – and how heavily he relied on his vision.

He tracks your finger with ease, eyes moving smoothly and quickly. “Everything seems to be in order.” You state quietly, reaching for a nearby datapad to update his medical file.

Crosshair can’t help but admire you as you tap away at the screen. He sees a great deal from afar, but being closer opens a new world. “How’ve you been?” He asks, finding himself genuinely curious. He hates small talk with a burning passion, but he’ll always make an exception for you.

“Good! It’s been busy. We had some of the boys from 184th come in, and their injuries were unlike anything I’ve seen before.” You paused in your tapping, glancing up at Crosshair, gauging whether to continue. His gaze was focused on you, and the fact he was still listening gave you the courage to continue. “I mean, I’ve dealt with blaster wounds, shrapnel, even the occasional strange accident, but this...this was something else.” You shared, focusing back on the screen before continuing the story.

“They had this inexplicable rash all over their bodies. I’ve never seen anything spread so fast. And the worst part? No one could figure out where it came from. We ran every test imaginable, yet their blood work was normal; there were no signs of infection, but this rash kept spreading.” You rambled, excited at getting to share this with him. It had been a highlight of the last few weeks – a break from the usual. “We started brainstorming, throwing around ideas, and then it hit me. We needed to check their gear, their uniform, everything. And you won’t believe what we found.” You paused again, looking up at Crosshair with wide eyes.

Did Crosshair give a damn about some Regs with a rash? No, not really. But he cared about you, and the excitement on your beautiful face, as you shared this story, meant he’d gladly listen to the tale a hundred times. “What did you find?” He asked, watching as you broke out into a smile. Sometimes, his heart ached at how easy it was to make you happy – that all it took was someone willing to listen to you.

“Coma-bloom flowers. They’d made camp beside a huge patch of coma-bloom and, while sleeping on the ground, had rolled into some of its pollen. It could’ve killed them if they’d accidentally ingested it, so thank the Maker, all they did was get it on their skin. But still…took a lot of meds, and a lot of showers, to get it out of their systems.” You explained. It had been a fascinating case, expanding your medical knowledge and driving you into exploring other fauna and flora that could be toxic to the men who swung by the medbay.

The realisation sank in quickly that you’d rambled for a while, excited over a case of troopers with a rash. Maker above, he’d think you were crazy. Head dipping a little, you tapped at the datapad screen nervously.

Your sudden shift in mood wasn’t lost on him. He’d seen his brother act the same way after info-dumping. “Smart girl.” Crosshair murmurs, a deep feeling of pride settling in his chest. The shyness that overcame you at his compliment made his gut twist. You were too sweet.

Warmth blooms in your chest at the compliment, and you busy yourself by sifting through his medical file, so you don’t dwell on the feelings bubbling inside you. “You didn’t collect the prescriptions from your previous visits...” You mumble with a frown, double-checking that you were reading his notes correctly. “Did the symptoms go away on their own?” You ask, glancing up at him.

Crosshair freezes, mind racing as he tries to devise an excuse. Any excuse would do.

They were shipped out before he could collect them? No. Once, perhaps, but more than that, and it would be obvious he was lying.

He could go down the route of feeling better before collecting them. But no, that would only make it seem like he’d been wasting your time.

With a sigh, Crosshair realises he only has one path. “They were never there to begin with.” He comes clean.

Brow’s furrowing, your head tilts ever so slightly, curious and concerned. “What? Then why did yo-“

“What kind of spell did you put on me?” Crosshair unintentionally interrupts, watching as your concern melts into surprise, your beautiful eyes blinking a few times. He reaches out, tracing a finger across your cheek before dragging his thumb across your lower lip. “You won’t leave my thoughts. Driving me crazy.” He whispers, loathing how vulnerable he feels but unable to stop himself now there are cracks in the wall he’d built up around himself.

“O-Oh…” You swallow, not sure what to do with such a confession, caught off guard by the intensity of the words and his gaze. The thud of your heart rings in your ears, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Urm, well, I’m so-”

Before you can finish the sentence, Crosshair presses his thumb more firmly to your lips. “Don’t you dare apologise, doll.”

Silence hangs in the air between you. Your thoughts are a whirlwind, processing the unexpected confession from Crosshair. His touch lingers on your lips, and you can feel the warmth of his skin against your face. The nickname catches you off guard, and a flutter of something unspoken stirs within you.

Crosshair, for all his stoicism, appears different in this moment. Vulnerability seeps through the cracks in his demeanour, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart race. You can’t deny the attraction you’ve felt for him, the way your heart would skip a beat whenever he entered the medbay, but this...this is a revelation.

Finally, Crosshair withdraws his thumb from your lips, filling the room with a charged silence. It’s as if the atmosphere has shifted. “When are you next off duty?” He asks. He’d already shown his hand, and you hadn’t run away or demanded he leave – it was worth pushing his luck just a little more.

Confusion mars your brow. “Tomorrow.” You answer quietly.

“I know this great place on Kowak.” Crosshair pitches, anxiety clinging to his words despite his attempt to sound casual. He’s never been one for small talk or sweet gestures, but the prospect of spending time with you outside the confines of the medbay is something he finds strangely appealing.

Your eyes widen in surprise, the unexpected invitation catching you off guard. Kowak isn’t exactly a typical choice for a casual outing, but then again, Crosshair is anything but typical. “Kowak? Really?” You respond, a mix of curiosity and amusement colouring your tone.

He nods, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, there’s this little cantina with the best atmosphere. Quiet, secluded. I think you’ll like it.”

A genuine smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “I’ll take your word for it. Tomorrow, then?”

Crosshair nods again, a subtle tension releasing from his shoulders. “Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 0900 hours.” He shifts off the exam bed, booted feet meeting the floor. He holds your gaze for a second longer before breaking it and heading for the door.

A fleeting feeling of panic laces through you. You don’t want Crosshair to go, even though you’ll see him tomorrow morning. As he reaches to press the small button to open the exam room door, you call out his name, watching as he pauses. Feet carrying you across the small space, you don’t know where the courage comes from as you push up on your tiptoes, pressing a feather-light kiss to his cheek.

Crosshair freezes at the unexpected touch, his heart pounding in his chest. The sensation of your lips against his cheek sends a jolt through him, and for a moment, he’s unsure how to react. It’s a rare instance where he finds himself genuinely caught off guard.

He turns to face you, his sharp brown eyes meeting yours. The vulnerability in his expression is back, your small gesture cracking open another layer of the wall he tried to hide behind, and Crosshair finds himself at a loss for words.

You, on the other hand, feel a mix of bravery and uncertainty. You’ve taken a leap, and now you’re waiting for the reaction, unsure what it means for the dynamic between you both. His gaze lingers on you, and the air is thick with tension.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Crosshair breaks into a rare, genuine smile. It’s a subtle curve of his lips that transforms his usually serious countenance into something softer. “You surprise me, doc.” He says, his voice a low murmur. “But I’m not complainin’.”

With that, Crosshair steps back and opens the door, sliding a fresh toothpick between his lips. As he exits the room, he glances back at you, a lingering intensity in his gaze. The door slides shut behind him, leaving you in the quiet room, heart racing and mind reeling from the unexpected turn of events.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

#the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #tbb x you #tbb x reader #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x you #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair bad batch #bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair #crosshair x you #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars clone wars #ct 9904

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ninibeingdelulu · 5 months ago

Text

Father ✧

Plot: Making dinner while Levi read his book with your toddler in his arms.

Silence hung thick and cozy in the soft, candle-flickered den as savory aromas wafted through the cottage air.

Your nimble hands busied over that evening's meal preparations - shucking veggies, sprinkling fragrant seasonings, and stirring those bubbling pots with easy familiarity.

But pausing every few rotations to sneak tender glances across the modest living room.

Where the true vision of serenity unfolded before your adoring gaze.

Levi slouched in that overstuffed armchair dominating the chamber's heart. Posture loose and unburdened in a manner that still vaguely surprised you after all these years together.

One gunmetal iris cracked open in a catlike squint from behind those unruly ink locks now tumbling freely down his temples.

Peering down in obvious contentment at the tiny, bundled perfection blissfully dozing against his broad chest.

Your daughter's cherubic features remained blissfully serene even as those thick sooty lashes fluttered in dreams.

Honeyed curls tousled every which way courtesy of her doting father's roaming caresses.

One of Levi's calloused palms cradled the back of her downy crown with utmost gentleness - countering the massive, scarred breadth rippling with each steady inhale and exhale.

It never stopped amazing you - reducing your fierce captain to such tender vulnerability around his child. The very same man once branded "humanity's strongest" now shamelessly melting into paternal instinct while simply basking in his baby girl's peaceful slumber and milky sweet scent.

He startled slightly at your padding footfalls cutting through the drowsy atmosphere.

Those steely mercuries alighted immediately, trademark stoicism cracking wider until soft wonder seeped across Levi's austere visage instead.

One lone index rose to his parted lips with a barely-there smile and shake of his tousled crown, silently conveying 'she's drifting off.'

Instantly soothing every potential rebuke about dinner prep times you might have offered.

You simply mirrored Levi's low, indulgent beam right back - whisper-quiet footfalls guiding you straight into that irresistible tableau of masculine warmth and floral-sweet innocence.

Without conscious direction, your path detoured to scoop his face into your cupped palms and pepper wandering, grateful kisses over his angled cheeks.

Down his nose, absorbing each faint chuckle reverberating beneath as he soaked up your overflowing reverence without protest.

"Shh..c'mere already, would you?" he husked before claiming your questing mouth in a slow, molten connection temporarily claiming all surroundings beyond that velvet moment.

Levi hummed out a purr before trailing off - all focus refocusing back on your shared, drowsing offspring nestled against him with idle strokes down her svelte back.

You eased into the adjacent spot without ceremony, draping into Levi's side while your temple nestled beneath his rough jawline and inhaled deeply.

What was once a bristly, oddly-soothing sandalwood and lye fragrance now tempered by the indescribable floral aroma of unconditional love.

"Both my princesses in the same little room..." he spoke up suddenly, vibrating through your cheek with gravelly fondness.

Trailing off with a visible throat-bob before planting a lingering peck into your crown, free palm sneaking down to splay over your midsection with reverent possession.

"...don't think there's a single sane thought left in here most days. Just overflowing with pure fuckin' bliss instead."

Smothered laughter huffed through your nostrils at that trademark Levi candor.

Angling your chin upward until molten mercury lakes drifted back down to meet yours, irises glittering with their own transfixed glow.

"Likewise, captain..." Hushed and raspy, you caught his plump pout in a searing exchange murmuring eternal devotions with promises of infinite nights just like this one.

"Better get used to all these royal luxuries after so many years of squalor. My king deserves a lifetime of pampering, don't you think?"

Levi snorted hoarsely before guiding your ear back down to fully savor his wolfish purrs unconstrained.

"Sounds divine. But first..." His forearm cradled your tiny cherub closer, cocooning her more snugly into that sheltering cavern with rocking motions mimicking a parent's heartbeat.

"First, I'm enjoying every goddamn second of having both my world's tucked right here against me for a spell. The rest can damn well wait."

#levi ackerman headcanons #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x reader #levi angst #levi headcanons #levi #levi x reader #levi aot #snk levi #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman fluff #levi x you #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x you

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ghostheartfelt · 1 year ago

Note

Hiiii! First of all I hope you're doing well <333 and second omg!! I loved your ghost smut 😭😭 I'm here to request smt if you don't mind, I've requested this before but nobody wanted to write it but feel free to not wrote it too if you don't like the plot but here we go:

Ghost breaks up with reader NOT because he hates her but because his next mission is really hard and dangerous and there was a really slim chance that he'd survive it. So he tries to push reader away to not hurt her feelings but things escalated and they break up but when he comes back from the mission they have make-up sex? 🤭 Thank you for reading all of this and if you can't write it then I understand, thank you for your time and effort 💗

*:･｡☆ a/n: hi anon~ thank you so much for being my first req!!!! And thank u so much for the support. I’m so sorry i took forever to get to this! but you bet ur sweet ass i’ll write this for you?! I hope you enjoy this regardless of how long it took me to get to it. mwah! -ur bbg cure

〔☆〕 desc: ghost is deployed on a mission in bangladesh that price explains as risky and complicated--ghost immediately thinks of you as the possibilities of survival are described as slim. him, gaz, and soap set out back to manchester, and no amount of talk is able to change his mind. he ends things off between the two of you, which arises a depressive state in you before he arrives and makes it up to you completely. (possibly takes place before ten minutes past?…. 👀)

*:･｡☆ tags: p in v, unprotected intercourse, whiny ghost if you squint, hand job if you squint, oral (f receiving), fingering, reader orgasms twice, cock warming, he sleeps with the tip inside<3, this hurt my breeding kink heart, pet names, possessive ghost, breast worship if you squint, break up and make up sex, porn with feelings. SMUTTY SMUT SMUT!!! not too bad, sadly.

—✩ N[EX]T REGRETS ✩—

word count — 4.3k

☆ (peep the song that inspires this writing...) ☆

Your hands are setting two plates on the dinner table; one for you, one for your boyfriend.

He was coming home from deployment—it’d been months since you’d last seen him, you’d lost track.

Silverware wrapped in cloth napkins are set beside the plates before you flick the cog of a lighter and ignite the candles in the middle of the table.

You turn yourself around to grab the cookie sheet of ribeye off of the counter after pushing on mittens, holding it in your palm as you place two steaks down onto one of the plates, then one onto another.

Then you take the tray back to the counter and set it back on top of the table cloth so it didn’t damage the marble.

Regardless of the fancy dinner setup, you were still in a black satin night dress and fuzzy socks. You knew Simon would just dress down himself the moment he got home.

You scooped steamed vegetables onto both plates, then potatoes and gravy with a sprinkle of chives.

When you place down the spineless wine glasses, you hear a heavy door slam causing a smile to crease your face.

Simon was home, he was going to come inside and he was going to hold you again for the first time in months. Run his hands through your hair for the first time in months. Kiss you for the first time in months.

You seat yourself gently on the dinner table, ankle crossed over the other with your elbows bent and palms pressed neatly on the wood as you wait for him to come inside.

You hear the door open, then shut, heavy padded footsteps approaching the threshold of the dining room.

Ghost is the one who comes through the archway—fully geared with the skull mask and helmet, the only thing he lacks is a rifle.

“Simon…?” You push yourself off your palms, confusion whisked on your face.

It was one of your rules, the mask stays off inside your home.

His eyes land on the neatly set table before they reach yours.

You approach him slowly and he tenses, your eyebrows stitching together in concern.

His stomach twists inside of him.

Gorgeous minx.

Absolutely breathtaking.

Beautiful perfection.

He couldn’t say anything he wanted to—and god he had so much to say.

Your eyes flicker to the windows alongside the front door seeing two other bodies.

Armed bodies.

He wasn’t staying.

“Can you all stay for dinner atleast? I made enough for everyone…” you smile softly while fumbling with the straps of his vest.

Stop touching me, you’re making this harder on me. Ghost swallows the knot in his throat.

There’s a pause before Ghost backs up.

“There’s someone else.”

It’s a lie, it’s a lie. It’s such a lie. Ghost

Something inside your chest tightens and you swear that it’s your heart.

“What?…” You scoff lightly, your eyebrows pinching together in disbelief.

Don’t make me say it again. Ghost inhales sharply.

“Simon…” you tilt your head slightly, extending your hand to touch him.

“Please, let me try to be better for you, give me a chance…” your lips quiver.

You don’t need to try and be better for me. Ghost thinks.

He knew you’d been reading articles on how to be in a relationship with someone in the special forces—he’d found out and closed the lid, sat you in his lap and kissed you so softly, telling you that you were perfect for him and you didn’t need an article to tell you how to love him.

But you know it’s real when Ghost jerks his shoulder away.

You know it’s real when you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood as tears start welling in your eyes.

You know it’s real when Ghost’s eyes evade yours.

You know it’s real when Simon turns around and he doesn’t spare you a goodbye.

You especially know it’s real when the door slams shut and rattles the walls around you.

It’s surreal, but you expected this.

He must’ve found someone on base, you thought.

You feel your knees give in beneath you, and you’re met with the floor.

A hysterical sobbed scream leaves your throat as your trembling hand lifts to drag down at your lips.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

Ghost stands for a moment on the doormat outside of your home.

Gaz’s hand finds a place on his back, the other holding his vest as he guides the larger male towards the truck they’d arrived in.

“Didn’t have to do that, Ghost.” He says, followed by a sigh.

“Did.” Ghost replies back as he seats himself in the back. “Wasn’t lettin’ her get my dog tags—she’s been through enough bein’ with me.”

Soap turns his head over his shoulder after sitting in the front passenger seat.

“Ay, L.T, we all know y’ll make it back t’ya pretty lass.” He says. “Y’r one of we bes’ fighters, ain’t that righ’, Kyle?” Soap’s elbow bumped into Gaz’s ribs.

Gaz utters a strained noise before nodding, hands wrapping around the wheel.

“‘M not takin’ that risk, now shu’up ‘n drive. Cap’s gon’ ‘b pissy enough.”

His head turns to look out the window as he feels the wheels of the truck roll down the driveway.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

It’s been seven months. Two-hundred-thirteen days.

All you do is work, eat, and sleep.

Eating, not as much as you should.

You couldn’t cook, couldn’t get yourself up from your bed the second you got home from work to start the stove.

You either sleep all day or not at all, there wasn’t a balance.

God, your living room was disgusting. Snot tissues were littered across the entire coffee table, empty champagne glasses, crusted food plates and crushed soda cans.

You’d resorted to hiring a maid just to clean your living room—which was the only room you stayed in for five months straight while your depression started getting progressively worse.

You lay on your side with a weighted blanket draped over you, holding you down comfortably.

Simon stayed in your head, even after half of a year. He invaded your head. It drove you insane.

At the same time, you were scared of the day that he wouldn’t be your first and last thought each and every day anymore.

You bunch the blanket closer to your chin, your wet eyes have drenched the little area to hell.

Things just have never been the same since Simon left the house–-you still happened to feel his presence next to you, hovering over you.

“There’s someone else.” His words settled an uneasy weight on your shoulders that you still were unable to shake off.

A splutter of sobs escapes you once again, tears blurring your vision as they fall and your nose starts to clog.

You try to breathe in, but you feel as though there’s not enough air around you. You breaking into a coughing fit is enough for you to push the weighted blanket off of your body and heave yourself up.

Spit and drool creates several small strings between your lips–you’re practically foaming at the mouth from how hard you’re crying.

Tears flutter off your eyelashes and further blur your vision, so you try and rub at your eyes with the heels of your palms desperately.

You stand up wobbly and start towards the bathroom, you didn’t have the energy to walk the extra couple of steps into your bedroom to use your own bathroom, so the guest bathroom would have to do for now.

You turn the shower knob and pull it out towards you after undressing, then step into the warmth and sink onto the shower floor, hugging your knees to your bare chest and letting the water run over your face.

Sobs cause your body to twitch and jerk, the heat in your eyes making your eyes burn as your breathing grows unsteady over the stream of water above you.

You just wanted him home.

But, he wasn’t yours to want home anymore.

He wasn’t yours to crave anymore or to love.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

A door slams so hard air causes the fabric of his shirt to flail in the wind.

Ghost had spent months struggling with the actions of his decision, where he had hoped that the choice would break you free of your shackles of worries when it came to the blonde when he was away.

He spent every night and every rising morning worrying someone would take his place. It would’ve been his fault, he knew that, and it made him want to scream at the top of his lungs until they felt raw in his chest.

He presses the lock button on his keys, hearing the locks inside the jeep click, then he jumbles with his keychain looking for the house key.

Ghost’s hands are shaking as he pinches the specific key and jabs it into the door lock, turning it.

When he hears the all-familiar click, he immediately pulls off his balaclava and pushes himself through the front door.

There’s silence–pure silence throughout the house except for the sound of running water.

She’s showering.

A short amount of relief washes over him as he bends to untie the laces of his boots, placing them aside.

When he stands, his eyes scan over to the living room and he feels his heart sink in him at the sight of the absolute mess made of the living room.

An overflowing laundry basket and take-out boxes that made the room stink of old fried rice.

He throws his bag behind him against the wall before he walks himself towards the pile of laundry and begins pulling out shirts and pairs of pants to fold against his knee.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

You took a two hour shower, most of it being of you shredding any form of emotion from your body that you could.

Now you were sitting on the fur-covered toilet seat, running your lotion-coated hands along your freshly shaven legs.

You told yourself you would try going to a club to replenish your sex deprivation.

Steam finally clears from the mirror allowing you to look at yourself in the mirror. Your hands pull the towel off your head, wet hairs sticking to your shoulders.

The bathroom smelt of your coconut milk shampoo and body wash–it smelt divine.

You thumb up your white laced bra and panties, plug in the blow dryer and scrunch your mop in your hands as you wave the blow dryer over your hair.

It seems like hours, being only nearly ten minutes until your hair is somewhat dry, but your arms are tired, so you unplug the dryer and wrap the cord around it.

You leave the bathroom and walk back into the living room, pausing in motion at the sight of it being clean–your laundry being neatly folded on the coffee table.

“Kris? Is that you?” You call, not too loudly.

She had a key to your home, but she had stated she wouldn’t be available this week due to some personal reasons she wasn’t required to go over with you.

You walk over towards the couch and drag your hand along the cotton material.

There was no reply to your call, which concerned you. You hadn't contacted any of your family members to come visit.

You slowly turn yourself around and the breath is practically stolen from your lungs.

Simon’s standing across the room from you, clad in a black t-shirt and jeans, a belt secured in the front.

You watch his eyes drag up and down your exposed body, watching as he inhales sharply while his eyes narrow.

“Love,” He mumbles.

Your eyebrows furrow and you lift your neck up. “Why–why are you here?” “Will y’let me explain?” He sighs.

“Does she know?” You reply quickly with a shaky voice.

“Does wh–”

“Does she know you are here, Simon.”

There's silence, then he licks his dry lips.

“There is no she.” He says flatly.

“No,” you scoff, running a hand down your face, eyes darting to the side as you listen to him walk closer toward you. “No…no. No–I remember specifically…” your angry, now.

Simon catches your lips in a firm kiss, but you push him away, and the look in his eyes makes your chest ache.

“Please,” Simon’s eyebrows pinch together.

“Stop, just stop.” You seethe, pressing your finger into the midsection of his chest making him back up some. “You said there was someone else, you said–”

“I was lyin’, there wasn’t.” He pauses, frowning.

“Bullshit,” you shake your head. “Fucking bullshit, Simon Riley!”

“Let m’talk.” Simon says gruffly, his tone stern.

You swallow thickly and lower your head in defeat after nodding, finger lifting so you can chew on your cuticle bed.

“I…I let a debriefing get t’me. Said there wasn’t much’a chance of survival–can’t say much, y’know that…but I didn’t want y’to have to go through that.” He explains.

His hand reaches down to lift your chin, thumbing at any stray tears making their way down your cheeks. “Forgive me, lovie.” Simon leans down to close the gap between you both again, this time you submit and his hand cradles the back of your head.

The kiss is slow and passionate–gentle with its hints of dominance.

“Missed you…” He mumbles over your lips, hands finding your ass to knead the supple skin.

You gasp slightly, but cave in to his touch instantly. “And I missed you…”

“Please…never do that again.”

His forehead rests on yours a moment, fingers toying in your hair by rolling pieces between his fingers.

“‘M sorry.” He murmurs.

He wasn’t the type to apologize, you knew that. His apologies were sincere and meaningful.

Your hands grip his shirt.

“Over half a year, Simon…” Your voice is so low, you couldn’t even call it a whisper. “This whole time…”

“I know…I know…” He mutters into your hair, taking in your scent.

“Will y’let me make it up to ya, love?” Hot breath rakes over the side column of your neck.

You simply nod, and that’s all enough for him to pick you up by your thighs and for you to wrap your legs around his waist and rut against him.

He guides you both into your bedroom, seating you on the edge of the bed.

“So fuckin’ sexy when y’r half-naked ‘n angry…” Simon chuckles dryly as he drags a finger up your clothed cunt.

“Simon…please…” you mumble into his shoulder.

“I’ve got’ya, gorgeous.” He says cooly while laying you flat on the bed.

Simon slips his fingers past your panties, his cock twitching in his pants at the feeling of your wetness spreading along his fingers.

“Ffff..uck, babe, you're so wet for me ‘lready…” he whispers.

You gasp as his finger slips up and down between your folds, making you twitch as he passes your throbbing clit.

“So fuckin’ divine…” he purrs above you, eyes full of love and lust. His other hand finds a place on your thigh, squeezing the flesh as he works at your warmth.

You whine, watching as his teeth bite at the lace lining of your panties, pulling them down as his eyes don’t stray from yours.

“Oh…fuck…” you bite your lip gently, the action making you fanny flutter to the point of aching.

“Jesus…” he breathes against your thigh, pressing his lips along the skin and sucking it until he’s satisfied with the markings.

Simon scoops up both of your legs by the crooks of your knees, spreading them apart as he shifts down to rest his knees on the ottoman spread across the end of the bed.

A shuddered moan releases from you as his tongue prods at the hole in your cunt, then drags up to swirl around your sensitive bud.

Your hand grabs a tight hold in his hair, making him groan against your core and increase the pressure and sensation in your stomach.

A whimper leaves your throat as he sucks and laps at your pussy, making you buck into his jaw.

“Jus’ like that, baby,” he growls onto you, pressing a wet kiss onto your clit. “Y’gon cum all over m’face like a good girl?”

You mewl and cry out as Simon slips a finger inside, your back arching and thighs jerking.

“Simon!” You gasp loudly as your fingers dig into his back over his shirt.

His tongue drags flatly up your cunt, collecting all your juices—he’s practically drinking you.

Another finger pushes inside gently, curling inside that same spot he’s able to find so effortlessly each time that makes you go wild.

“Gon’ c…cum…” you stutter meekly.

“C’mon then,” he urges. “Cum f’r me.”

Simon quickened his pace and the pressure, pumping his fingers in and out, in and out.

Like he was starved, his face presses closer into you, tongue toying at your clit making you twitch against him.

There’s an unbearable heat between your legs as you feel a knot tie in your abdomen when Simon levered his fingers deeper into you.

“Good…” he groans, pressing his tongue inside with his fingers as your walls clamp around him desperately, a strained moan leaving you as your orgasm snaps.

You cum, hard, and grip his shoulders with both hands as his fingers fuck your orgasm back into you before he finally pulls his fingers out to coat your thighs in your climax.

Simon sucks out his work, then spits it back out onto your heat, slapping your pussy and releasing a deep groan.

He licks his fingers clean, his tongue sliding between each finger.

You lift yourself up by gripping his belt, slightly wobbling before his hand finds a spot to rest on your back.

“Fuckin’ hell…cum drunk ‘lready, sweets?” Simon bends down to take your mouth onto his, taking the chance to slip his tongue between your lips when you moan into his.

Gently, you palm his hard cock over his pants, eyes squeezing shut then opening to find your place on his belt and fumble with the buckle.

“Mm—y’find what you were lookin’ f’r?” He pants heavily before his lips trail down your jawline to lick and suck at your neck.

“Oh..fuck…” he murmurs, lips brushing against your skin.

“Want you so bad, Si…” you moan, lifting your head to grant him better access. “Want to feel you inside of me.”

He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere across the room while he kicks off his pants that you helped pull down Simon’s hips, lips then coming back down to tease at your collarbones and neck.

“Ooh..ho…you will, don’t y’worry, sweet girl.” His cock sprung free out of the restraints of his boxers, making him groan hoarsely.

Simon’s fingers tap on the outerside of your thigh. “Turn over,” he demands.

You babble out nonsense that is incoherent as you flip on your stomach and one of his hands gather both of your wrists.

He’s on the bed now, between your legs with one hand holding you up by your stomach.

The head of his cock teases at your entrance, lips trailing up your spine.

“Y’want it?” He growls. “Huh?”

He inhales sharply, nudging the tip into your greedy hole. “God…you do…”

“J’s suckin’ me in like th’needy little pet y’are.”

You moan out a chant of pleases, cheek pressing into the comforter of the bed as he arches and positions you to his liking.

“Y’want this thick cock in y’r empty pussy.”

“Yes…” you mumble, backing into him

softly until you take in his entire tip which causes the larger man to apply more pressure into your stomach. “Fuck me, please…please…”

“Oh…Mmm…Such a good girl beggin’ f’r my cock.” Simon praises, letting you bounce on his tip for a few moments.

“Tha’s right baby…jus’ like that…I own this pretty little cunt, don’t I?” He snarls. “Nobody else’s to fuck.”

“Only yours, just yours,” you nod helplessly, earning a positive noise from the man behind you.

He takes in a sharp breath before slowly he inches himself into you farther, stretching you.

Filling you.

You moan loudly, your walls closing around his length making him push out the same noise.

When he bottoms out in you, his tip kissing your cervix, he retracts and ruts back into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room as he hisses and breathes harsher at every thrust.

“Oh…” he sighs in ecstasy, releasing your wrists so he can grab the fat on your waist.

“Yes…” he moans, every contact with your hips causing the breath in his mouth to jump and fall.

“Tight little pussy just swallowing me,” Simon hisses through clenched teeth as he painfully yet deliciously stretches you open to his size. “So—fuckin’ sexy.”

“Want y’to cum in me, please…” You gasp, clawing at the comforter as he bucks himself deep into you, filling you up and emptying you, repeating that motion over and over.

“Want me to fill y’with my seed?” He chuckles, a moan interrupting him. “Tha’s what my slutty pet wants?”

“Fucking yes! My god, yes…” you pant, muttering and whining unintelligibly as he slams back into you and makes your ass slap against his thighs.

“Too bad,” he croons.

“Simon…pl..ease..” you moan.

“No…no, I can’t…cum in ya, love. We—we ain’t thinkin’ straight…” Simon’s cock twitches inside of you as he continues ramming his hips into yours, a guttural groan tearing out of him.

“I can feel y’tightenin’ around me, j’s beggin’ to cum around my fat cock…”

“There y’go…Bounce that gorgeous ass on me, j’s how I like it, babe.” Simon strains, hand roughly smacking the skin on your hind.

You squirm against him, making the blonde growl and grab your hips with a bruising grip. “Y’feel me stretchin’ y’r tiny pussy?”

“Mhm? Y’do?” He grunts, heaving above you as he thrusts himself into you. “Fuckin’ take it, filthy fuckin’ minx.”

“Look at you, such a pretty pet, bent to my content…Pussy out on display.”

“Gonna cum, gorgeous, all over your perfect belly.” He mumbles and flips you onto your back.

You moan shamelessly and loudly, whining as he pulls out of you and starts stroking himself while playing with your pussy.

“Fu…u…ck…” his head leans back as you massage his balls and replace his hand. “J’s likeee…that, perfect girl…”

He rubs his middle and pointer finger over your clit at an inhuman pace, making your body jolt and try to push away if it weren’t for his hand holding you roughly in place.

You roll your wrist up and down, pumping his cock in your hand until he takes control again and smacks his tip against your lower abdomen, spilling out his cum onto your stomach with a choke of your name.

Simon’s body twitches, pants and swears rolling off his tongue in a pleading voice as he covers you in his warmth.

“C...C’mon lovie, cum all over my fingers again, let me sss…see y’come undone f’r me again…N…Need to see it…” He stumbles over his words as he comes off his high, an undertone of a whimper in his voice.

It makes you pool, your ego skyrocketing at the fact that you can do that to someone. To him.

Simon’s fingers hit every perfect nerve inside your pulsating cunt, curling and plummeting into the same spot of overwhelming pressure that brought you over the edge.

A tightness coils in your stomach again, and he absolutely fucking loves the strained noises that spill out from you at every rut of his fingers inside of you.

He loves the way he can get you wrung out at every pet name and gentle touch, the way you clamp your thighs together at the smallest motions.

Simon knew your body better than you did, and he fucking loved it. He knew every spot that drove you absolutely mad and every crevice that had the ability to make you beg just how he wanted.

Your eyes shoot open from their half-lidded proportion as Simon finds a certain spot that sends electricity throughout your entire body, making you cry out and dig your nails into his scar-ridden flesh.

“Righ’ there, huh, princess? Righ’ there?” He hisses which drawls out to a throaty growl, hammering that same spot with more pressure. “Couldn’t stand bein’ away fr’m this pussy f’r so long…”

You chant ‘yes’ over and over again until your gasping and panting his name, your breath catching in your throat as you let out a loud cry through your climax, thighs trembling as they slowly close around his forearms in reflex.

He lifts your thighs up again and sits you on his lap as he pulls the covers over the both of you.

“Did s’good for me, lovie. Mmm…S’proud of you, baby.” Simon whispers, catching your lips in a ravenous kiss as he presses his cock inside of your warmth, pushing your climax back into you in a tranquil motion.

“‘M gonna be right back, okay?” You coo against his lips as you swing your legs over the bed, he gives you a small ‘mhm’.

You quickly give yourself time to use the bathroom, then wash your hands before you walk yourself back into the room, crawling back into his lap before he turns the both of you to the side.

Simon unclips your brassiere and drops it onto the floor, cups both of your breasts in his palms and moans as you slide yourself back down onto his cock.

“Mmh…So warm…” he whispers huskily while kissing the nape of your neck down to your collarbones.

He spoons you, lulling you into a state of drowsiness as he gently massages your tits. Simon’s breath is a gentle pattern over your neck, gentle snores leaving the barriers of his lips after his hands go still.

You don’t take long to catch sleep right behind him, turning your head a moment to peck his wet lips before you’re able to finally shut your eyes.

#ghostheartfelt #ghostheartfelt writing #simon ghost x reader #mw2 smut #ghost riley smut #simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #mw2 x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost modern warfare #ghost cod #ghost imagine #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley imagine #ghostheartfelt ;; 👻#ghostheartfelt writing ;; 👻

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grabby-smitten · 27 days ago

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The Secrets of the Flame Manor

Subjects: Ghost!Rafayel x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.2K+

Content: MDNI, Ghost AU, smut, PiV, dubcon, ghost sex, fingering, obsessive behavior if u squint, mention of night terrors, it’s not creepy… just porn with sprinkles of plot. Headcanon-ish format. No beta, we die like grandma. Not edited. Lmk if i missed anything!

Ghost!Rafayel who haunts a manor near the shore. He saw the old sign through the window and it no longer indicated that it was for sale. On the contrary, It read SOLD in bright yellow. Days later, you showed up at his doorstep with a moving truck.

Ghost!Rafayel who let you do as you pleased the first few weeks. Quietly observing and assessing. He let you invest in his manor, not yours. Just to be clear. He let you decorate and rearrange the whole place which is something he had never allowed before. All the previous owners hadn’t lasted a week in his manor but for some reason, he decided he didn’t want you running away just yet.

Ghost!Rafayel who listened to the conversation you had with the real estate agent about how the manor wasn’t haunted and it’s been a great month so far. He grinned to himself at your false sense of security.

Ghost!Rafayel who made sure all your friends and family couldn’t contact you as easily as before. Calls? Interrupted. Messages or physical mail? Never delivered. He had you isolated in a faraway over-glorified beach mansion. Was it a problem? For you? Maybe. For him? Not so much.

Ghost!Rafayel who eyed how you were just finishing a couple of chores around the manor. you felt a presence but ignored it, you assumed it was your mind playing tricks on you.

Ghost!Rafayel who had no more patience left. His touches became more frequent until he was a constant presence in your bed at night.

Ghost!Rafayel who kept groping you unexpectedly at night while you slept, invisible hands feeling every inch of skin they could reach. A night terror? You laid frozen in fear as your sheets and clothes moved, and a cold touch surrounded you whole. You could feel fingers touching, prodding and teasing but nobody was there.

Ghost!Rafayel who watched how you began to look back and over your shoulder, you observed your surroundings every day since he laid his hands on you. He enjoyed having you walking on eggshells as if you would summon him with the wrong move. Paranoia looked so pretty on you, he thought.

Ghost!Rafayel who followed you to the bathroom and observed in silence your whole pre-shower routine. His eyes glided over your hair as you prepared it and then followed the movements of your fingers as you discarded your clothes. Unbeknown to you, he stood there marveling over your nakedness, mouth watering at the sight of your soft skin so supple and ready for to be touched, sculpted, praised. Only by him, of course.

Ghost!Rafayel who walked with you to the shower. He saw you turning the hot water on and letting it run over you. His hands, his mouth, everything in him itched to pounce on you. The glistening water droplets running down your form mocked him for having you first.

In the midst of him losing his temper, a bottle of shampoo fell and you bend over to pick it up. The round of your ass greeted him first and then your wet folds followed suit. he lost it. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

You felt hands gripping your hips and a presence behind you. Soon, a big bulge pressed against your entrance and it had you screaming in panic. Dread filled your mind as your fear mixed with confusion.

“I-it’s you again!” You accused the spirit. Your voice raspy and choking as hot water and steam clouded your vision. “Ju-just… just leave me alone!”

You feel the weight of his body, it had you screeching, kicking your feet, you tried to escape but it was all in vain. You crashed down into the tub. Blinking again and again, you could only make a faint silhouette of a man in the mist. Your blood froze under the humid air.

“Never,” it was the first time you heard it answer and your heart leaped. It was real. He was real.

The reality of your situation hit you in full force. Your mind became dead silent and you didn’t even care that cold see-through hands picked you up. They pulled you to your feet, but you were not standing on your own. In all honesty, you weren’t sure you would have been able to, still in shock.

His hands moved all over your moist skin, gripping, molding them over your mounds. Sliding them down and holding your center against his palm. You whined as your ears began to pick up sounds, grunts and hollow whispers. It was his voice again.

“Rafayel. say it.” He demanded in a raspy tone.

You were about to deny him when he inserted two fingers in your entrance, ripping a whine out of your throat in return. Your walls quivered around his digits as he began to move them, spreading you, massaging your insides, stretching you out to his liking.

“Say it!” Again the incorporeal voice urged. it echoed in the bathroom.

Pressing his thumb to your clit had you moaning his name out against your better judgment. Your screams bounced off the tiles and to finally get drowned out by the sound of the shower still raining down on you.

Ghost!Rafayel who had your back pasted to the wall as he lined himself with your wet hole. You felt him prodding at your entrance and with one swift push of his invisible hips, you were filled to the brim, a chocked intake of breath from your throat later and all you could feel was him.

Ghost!Rafayel who couldn’t help but laugh in ecstasy. he could see your warmth stretching around him, your spongy walls sucking him in. Never before has he been in such a euphoric state. Never before has he felt so… alive.

As his thrust increased in speed, your mouth opened and desperate whines mixed with the sound of flesh being pounded and water falling. His mouth latched to your neck, feeling the trembling of your vocal cords with his tongue. You knew something was there, but still, your eyes couldn’t get a proper picture of him. You could only float there, bodies pressed together and feel him, take him.

Ghost!Rafayel who heard your desperate cries increase. He felt you clenching around his member, almost painfully. Your hands searched for leverage in desperation and gripped nothing. You were holding onto air, very hard air. Your stomach plummeted once more but it was forgotten as you felt him lift you higher and with a new angle, his cock impaled you hitting all the right places.

Ghost!Rafayel who admired your release, your face contorted in pleasure, your sobbing and wailing invading every corner of his incorporeal being. The heat of your overflowing juice wrapped his cock and pushed him to the limit, and with a guttural moan, he emptied his heavy load into your puffy cunt.

You felt the scorching heat of him overflowing. Both of you stayed there, panting, unmoving. The shower was the only sound for a while.

Ghost!Rafayel who cleaned you up and you quietly let him. He carried you to your bed and laid there with you. The crash of the waves eradicated the unnatural silence of that night.

Ghost!Rafayel who wasn’t going to let you go this time. He wanted to possess you all. The air around you, the water that once ran down your body, the air in your lungs. You were his, just like this manor, just like the ocean once promised him. That’s why he stayed. It was a promise of now and forever.

AN: I am feeling better with my writing so I gave smut a try, but I still need to work on the flow and I’m ughhhhhhhh. N E WAY! Everyone say thank you to the Chicken ASMR from Rafayel’s secret times and his trailer.

#omificstags #omi.thirst #lads smut #love and deepspace #love & deepspace #omi.ds #l&ds #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 9 months ago

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Was Javier Garcia "not bisexual enough" in ANF?

I feel like everyone reading the title of this essay is going to say, "Well, yeah? Obviously? Javi didn't show any interest in men outside of that one optional moment of flirting with Jesus and then he was confirmed bisexual by one of the writers after the season ended. If they wanted to make him bi, they should've done more with it because that's not enough."

That's a commonly expressed opinion no matter where you look, and it's not like it's unfounded, either.

On a surface level, I agree. While I understand the excitement of learning a character is canonically bi, in the case of Javier Garcia it still feels like celebrating crumbs tossed to us by Telltale after they had their cake and ate it, too. They snuck in some bisexual representation at the last minute for queer audiences without it being explicit so the homophobes wouldn't throw a tantrum.

Stuff like that happens. Sometimes the representation is subtle or implied in the subtext. Or, the queerness is condensed into something digestible and sanitized for straight audiences. Or, it's stated after the fact with little to no actual evidence to support it in canon.

Hell, even if it is obvious, like with Clementine being bisexual in TFS, you still have biphobes who will die on the hill of denial. Even now, in the year 2024, we have people insisting "Clem being bi came out of nowhere! They should've showed it in earlier seasons if they wanted it to make sense. I'm not homophobic but here's my essay PROVING that violentine is bad and forced and that Clem isn't bi!" Or, on the other extreme, "Clementine is a lesbian to me, bisexuality isn't real :)"

But I've already talked about Clementine and what her bisexuality means to me. I want to talk about Javier now.

He's an interesting case, both in the way his queerness was handled and portrayed in the game, and how audiences received it... as in, a lot of people said, "That's great and all, but is it really representation when it's not actually present? It's not enough."

That. That right there: "It's not enough." That's what I want to break down and examine.

Is Javier Garcia not valid as a queer character because he didn't reach this concept of "enough" in the eyes of the player? But what would have been "enough" then? Do people really understand what they're asking for when they discuss what they think Telltale should've done? Does it actually matter if Javier is queer when it comes to the plot and his journey as the protagonist, and if it doesn't matter, is that okay?

Should we just accept these crumbs sprinkled in our hands?

I want to make it clear that I'm but one bisexual examining a bisexual character and doing an analysis. I've climbed out of my bog to write this because I want to discuss Javier and the writing as it pertains to his queerness, or lack thereof. I'm also aware that I'm not providing any irrefutable, concrete evidence here one way or the other; I'm speculating about Javier through a queer lens. I encourage any other bi, pan, or other queer person to add to these discussion points, whether in agreement or not.

Prior to TFS, the queer representation in TWDG wasn't great...

Though the games do get progressively gayer as the seasons go on. And some even get to live! Progress!

S1 had... uh, none? Wait, is that right? ...Yeah, no, I'm tuning my gay radio and it isn't picking up any signals, Captain. Nothing gay in these waters.

S2 had Walter and Matthew, who both died shortly after being introduced. There's some homoerotic undertones between Luke and Nick but nothing was ever confirmed. Also, they both died, so... not great.

The Michonne mini-series had Jonas and Zachary, but Zachary will always die no matter what. Jonas can die, too, but it's determinant. Paige was confirmed to be queer by the writers, though. Uh, progress? Kind of? Not really, it's never talked about and you only pick up on her feelings for Sam if you squint and pay close attention. But hey, at least she got to live!

Then, in ANF we have Javier, our playable protagonist, and Paul "Jesus" Monroe, a gay character who also showed up in the comics and TV show. Would'ja look at that, they both got to live! I should also mention nothing was ever confirmed about Ava but... c'mon, y'know? Captain, there's a faint signal on my radio; when you know, you know. Except she died, to, so... still not great.

Then came TFS, who really said, "Screw you, here's all the gay!"

They gave us bisexual Clementine with both of her romance routes. Violet, Minerva, James, mentions of his past boyfriend, Charlie... Aasim was planned to be bisexual and I don't see why we can't reclaim that for him, and one day I'll crawl out of my bog to write my analysis on the queer-coding/subtext of Louis' character because if I read "lmao Louis is such a Straight" one more time, I'm going to let the gators take a bite out of me just so that I can feel something other than irritation for once.

Sigh. It's so hard being a "Louis ain't straight" truther out here, so few understand.

My plights aside, there's no avoiding the queerness of TFS. Even if your Clementine doesn't romance anyone, or romances Louis, you can't avoid the fact that Violet and Minerva were girlfriends at one point. It's determinant if James will tell you about Charlie, but that doesn't change the fact that James is gay.

But it runs deeper than that. This is a story about these troubled youth who were abandoned by their families and teachers, the ones who were supposed to love and help them, because "something was wrong with them, they did something bad... they need fixing."

These young people have to fight against an oppressive group of adults looking to steal their autonomy, change them, mold them into what's expected to survive. Their identities don't matter to the raiders. All the raiders care about is erasing such identities so that they fall in line and obey, and if they don't comply, they die... or worse.

Yes, it's a story about Clementine and AJ finally finding a home, but no matter how you play, it's also a narrative steeped in queer themes and subtext. You can tell that the people who made it not only cared about these things and wanted them weaved throughout the story, but that some of them were queer themselves.

But where does that leave us with Javier?

With everything TFS did, it's easy to look back at ANF with a critical eye and pinpoint its flaws in every aspect. While I don't believe it's the worst game Telltale ever made [I mean, Minecraft Story Mode exists], in my opinion, it's the messiest game in the main series. It's not bad, but I'd much rather play S1 or TFS.

For all the criticism it received, most players did like Javier as the playable protagonist. Well, they did once they got over the fact that Clementine wouldn't be taking on that role again, and was instead relegated to only being playable in flashbacks.

Javi's personality can vary depending on player choices, but for the most part, he's a charismatic man who loves his family. He used to be a professional baseball player before he was booted from the league for gambling. He can be cocky and sarcastic, and it usually lands him in trouble. He tends to cope and deflect using humor. He has a past of being irresponsible and selfish; he wasn't even there when his father died, despite knowing he was dying of cancer. His relationship with David is complicated, only made messier if he and Kate end up together. He's trying his best... for the most part. Javi even ends up being a father figure to Gabe and Mariana after they all thought David was dead, and he's very open about his grief following Mariana's death.

But given everything we learn about him while playing ANF, how do we know Javi isn't straight? After all, his main love interest is Kate, a woman. He also has opportunities to flirt with Eleanor, another woman. He doesn't show any signs of being attracted to any of the men who are around... until Paul "Jesus" Monroe.

At the end of ep5, Javi and Jesus have a conversation where one of the dialogue options is, "I like you, Jesus." Granted, that doesn't have to mean "like-like;" you can say you like someone without any romantic intentions. Plus, Jesus IS a cool character. Players who picked that option likely weren't thinking of it in a romantic sense.

It's the way that Jesus responds to this option, though: a flirtatious smile, lidded eyes, the deep dip of his voice.

Javier: I gotta admit, man. You're a fucking badass! Jesus: You're a real charmer... You know that? Through and through.

It's not difficult to see Jesus is being flirtatious, and Javi sees it, too. How does he react?

Forgive me, but I'm about to over-analyze this six-second gif. I love his reaction so much. That subtle jump of his shoulders as if a jolt just ran through his gut at the way Jesus lowers his voice. Surprised, and then the movement of the brows, the slide of the eyes, and the little upturn of the mouth says to me "Oh… oh." Caught off guard, perhaps a little bashful.

Option 1: Javier: Oh, you know what they say. Takes one to know one. Jesus: That they do. Option 2: Javier: Are you really sure you don't want to stay? There's room. Jesus: Oh, uh... I'm sure there is, but... we got other people depending on us, Javi. Just the way it is. Option 3: Javier: Meant to tell you... That, uh, armor you got is great. Jesus: Oh... Oh, uh... Hmm... Well, uh... Thanks, um... It gets the job done.

Javi knows what Jesus is getting at regardless of your choice. He understands this is flirtatious, but is startled since he likely didn't consider that Jesus likes men, too. We the audience have a better chance at knowing if, especially those familiar with the character from the comics and the TV show. Javi wouldn't because why would he? It's not like Jesus is obvious and flaunting with the fact that he's gay.

What's funny about that is, given our topic of discussion, we could also argue that Jesus wasn't gay enough, couldn't we? If we're going to pick on Javier for not being more open about his sexuality, then it's only fair that we pick on other characters, no? Did Jesus need to be gayer? Would that improve ANF?

In fact, now that I think about, was James gay enough in TFS? Was one moment where he talks about his boyfriend, a scene that's determinant so not every player got it, enough? What about Minerva? We know she and Violet were girlfriends before Marlon traded her away, that's information that's unavoidable, but did she actually reach this apparent high standard of "enough" in the eyes of the audience?

Are we entitled to unequivocal evidence of queerness, and the heaping amount we deem necessary, otherwise it's not good enough and shouldn't be bothered with at all? Are more casual displays of queerness bad?

I can already hear people jumping to defend James and Minerva, and likely Jesus, against this because "it's totally different!"

Sure. Javier's situation is different from James, Jesus, and Minerva's respective situations. James actually uses the word boyfriend and he keeps a picture of him and Charlie in his pocket. Jesus appears in The Walking Dead universe outside of the game with more evidence of queerness. Minerva's past relationship with Violet is made clear even when you don't pursue Violet's route, not to mention the underlying metaphor of conversion with her being changed/brainwashed/traumatized by the raiders to be just like them.

Javier is different because that scene with Jesus is the only in-game evidence of his queerness, right? Then he had to be confirmed as bisexual by one of the writers once ANF ended.

Surely, they could've brought up the fact that Javier's bi earlier, right? Made mentions of a past boyfriend, or had a flashback about Javi coming out to his family? Why only let him flirt with Kate and Eleanor? Why wasn't there an option to flirt with Tripp, or some other male character? What about a darker turn where David didn't accept Javi for it? David's portrayed as an antagonist, anyway, why not toss a little homophobia into the mix? Why not reveal it if Javi rejects Kate? What if Kate was so hurt by the rejection that she asked him, "It's true, David was right. It's because you like men, isn't it?"

It feels like they decided at the last minute to just toss it in, like someone walked into Telltale one day and said, "Y'all, I just thought of the funniest thing- Javi should be bi so that we can make jokes about him swinging both ways!" And then everyone clapped.

Here's the deal: Something about this sits differently with me, and that's probably thanks to one of ANF's writers, Adam Esquenazi Douglas.

He's the one that confirmed Javier as bisexual.

Adam had his hand in writing for 4/5 episodes, and he said he wrote the scene where Javi can flirt back with Jesus, but it's that last line of his: "After all, they always say write what you know."

I don't know how many of you who are reading this are writers, or creators in general, but I assume many of you are. It doesn't matter if you write fanfiction, create fanart, write essay posts or headcanons or whatever. I have a firm belief that creative people pour so much of themselves into their work that, if given enough material and studied enough, you can get a glimpse of their soul. Even if done unintentionally, we project ourselves into these works; the characters, themes, conclusions, everything.

Am I suggesting that Adam was secretly a bisexual mastermind who threaded queerness throughout the entirety of ANF and we were all too blind to see it? No, and if he did, then he needs to step forward and tell me so that I can study ANF frame by frame to compile the secret evidence into a new essay.

...Actually, on second thought, maybe don't do that to me, Adam.

My point is, yes, it's true that it's likely Javi being bi was added in at the last minute... but can we really dismiss Javier as "not bisexual enough" when Adam had influence over Javi's character throughout the whole season? And I ask again: is the casual queerness of Javier bad?

Time to speculate and answer some of those questions about Javier

Let's talk about Kate for a minute. She is Javier's main love interest, whether you choose to accept her feelings or not, so she can give us a good point of reference for what Javi looks for in a partner.

Kate and Javi share a similar sense of humor that bounces well between the two. Kate wants to travel, Javi's well traveled from his time as a profession baseball player. They both exist in this space of "we're kind of the family screw up." Granted, Javi's more in it than Kate is, but you can see parts of her that come through where she's a little rebellious, a little not good enough [ironically]. They both feel trapped in their situations; Kate in her marriage, Javi in a slow downward spiral of not knowing what to do with himself now that he's booted from his career. They have complicated relationships with David, and together, they've raised Gabe and Mariana through the years after they believed David was dead.

They're a lot alike in many ways, so this is hardly an opposites attract type of romance.

What's interesting is if you then look at Jesus, he has some similar qualities to Kate; a sense of humor even when things are looking bleak, they to help and protect people, are willing to throw themselves in danger to save Richmond. Then if you add Eleanor, the other person Javi has some flirtatious dialogue with, you can apply those qualities to her, as well... though the big difference with her is Eleanor sells the group out because she wants to stay.

With the little information we have, we can speculate on Javi's preferences. He prefers someone more similar to him. I know, I know, everyone loves a good opposites attract tale, they're so different but similar at their cores, they fill in each other's gaps, yada yada... except not everyone is like that, obviously.

My working theory is that a partner who would act as the opposite of Javi would be someone who acts like David... and does Javi really want to date someone like his brother? Though that then opens up a whole can of worms since if Javi and Kate are so similar, and David married Kate... this isn't an essay about David, but that's certainly a thing to chew on.

With that, I suppose we can answer the question, "But if Javi's bi, why didn't he flirt with any men prior to Jesus?"

What men?

No, seriously, where are all these men Javi's supposed to flirt with? Are they hiding? I know you hid them in the game, Adam, where are they?

Wait, do you mean Tripp?

I don't want to step on the toes of any Javi/Tripp shippers out there, but let's actually think about this. When we meet Tripp, Javi's just been separated from his family. He was knocked out and tied up by these assholes who caught him siphoning their gas, then this teenager cut down a tree which resulted in him getting into a car accident. Said teenager then tried to rob him before agreeing to escort him back to his family but first, they gotta go to Prescott. I wouldn't say Javier's in the flirtatious mood by the time he meets Tripp.

But he can flirt with Eleanor, right?

So, why not Tripp?

Because Tripp is a man and he has feelings for Eleanor. That's made quite clear from ep1. He told Javi that he and Eleanor had a thing once. Sure, Javi could still harmlessly flirt with him, but have we stopped to consider that Javi isn't as confident with openly flirting with men like he is women? After all, who initiated the actual flirting between him and Jesus in ep5? That would be Jesus, and it happens after the danger is over and Javi doesn't have to worry about dying for a little bit.

Listen, I understand that Tripp is big. He's built like the lumberjack of our dreams. He has a nice beard. He's not afraid to talk about his feelings even when he fumbles all over them. He's strong and caring and brave. He could easily toss me over his shoulder like I'm a sack of flour and then throw me across the room... what's not to love? Surely, if Javi actually liked men, he would've made a move on Tripp at some point.

Except, would he? Is Tripp even Javi's type? Because I'm pressing X to doubt.

Also, why does he need to?

This is where I question why some people think Javi has to flirt with a bunch of men to "prove" he's bisexual? I'm sorry, do you believe there's a quota all bisexuals have to meet to maintain their membership card? You have to flirt with this many genders a month otherwise they'll revoke your premium status?

Sometimes I wonder if people unintentionally lean into the "promiscuous bisexual" stereotype, or if they do genuinely believe that bisexuals have to express interest in multiple people of different genders in order to prove themselves queer enough.

Did we ever stop to think that Javi's just not like that? An open flirt, I mean. Yeah he's charismatic and funny and all that, but Kate, Eleanor, and Jesus all initiate the romantic dialogue with him first; Kate tells him she needs to get laid hint hint, Eleanor calls him pretty, and Jesus calls him a real charmer.

Tripp never gives him any indication that he's interested or that he even likes men, so why would Javi make a move?

As for any other man? Again, what men? Max? Dr. Lingard? Clint? Conrad? And forget adding a new character to ANF; it could barely handle the characters it already had and you want to add a new one just for Javier? Let's face it, Tripp was the best option and that's just it, he wasn't an option.

"But my Javi WOULD flirt with Tripp and the game didn't give me the option!"

And there it is.

Javier isn't your OC

ANF isn't a massive RPG where starting a new game brings you to a character creation menu, and you get to decide every factor about the character you want to play.

ANF is an episodic, point-and-click Telltale game, and Javier isn't your OC. Like with Lee and Clementine, there are some things you just don't get a say in, and I think that gets to the player sometimes.

When I sit down to play a Dragon Age game, I go into it knowing that my character is mine, I get to decide who they are and who they're interested in. DA as an RPG has the capacity to give me a bunch of romantic options both in and out of my party that shape who my character is.

When I sit down to play TWDG, I go into it knowing that while I have my own Lee, Clementine, and Javi, I didn't create them but I am influencing who they become. I know it's a Telltale game, and that means limitations.

These games have always had the "illusion of choice" criticism chucked at them from the beginning. Usually that pertains to the choices you make that affect the overall story, but ultimately don't matter in the end.

For example, it doesn't matter if you save Carley or Doug because no matter what, they both die. My counter-argument for this has always been that the choice does matter in the way that it shapes your playable character, and how if affects the characters around you. A Lee who saved Doug over Carley had reasons for making that choice, and in turn, has a different experience going forward than a player who chose to save Carley.

Does it matter who shoots Duck in the woods after he's bitten? Or if he's left to turn? No matter what, he's going to die, so is that the illusion of choice? I don't believe so, because it does matter. It affects player experience.

That being said, I believe players who become invested in this series, especially those who engage in fandom, develop a warped sense of what should've been, forgetting the nature of a Telltale game. I know this because that's the foundation my blog was built on.

Javier Garcia isn't a blank slate. You didn't create him. He had a life before the start of the game, he has a personality that you didn't choose for him, and there are things you have no control over. If anything, we act as an influence over the TWDG playable protagonists. Most every option given is something that could reasonably play into their character. I say "most" because we all remember that [GLASS HIM] moment where Javi tells David that Kate's going to leave him and we were all like "THAT'S NOT WHAT I THOUGHT THAT OPTION WAS!" and it felt out of character.

Anyway, you don't dictate who these characters are but you get sway over the direction they take.

Javi can be a real prick to everyone, but that plays into the selfish and entitled part established with his character from the beginning. You can play him as genuine, trying to step up and do better for the sake of his family, another thing brought up from the very beginning.

"But why couldn't I make Javi flirt with Trip!?"

Because it's not an option. I don't know what else to tell you. I don't know what you want me to tell you.

ANF is a Telltale game that centers about Javier Garcia. It's a story about a man who, prior to the outbreak, screwed up and was wasting his life away. His relationship to his family sat upon a rocky foundation, crumbled by his own hands. He wasn't even there when his father died. We follow this man through a story of a family trying to survive, we watch him reunite with his brother and risk losing everything that kept him grounded and going. He experiences grief and anger and sorrow and happiness. In the end, he comes out of it all a different man, for better or worse.

That man just also happened to be bisexual.

And that's the thing: This isn't a story about Javier's sexuality. He isn't going around making moves on these elusive men that mastermind Adam Esquenazi Douglas maybe hid in the game somewhere because the game isn't about Javi liking men.

It's a game about his complicated relationships with Kate and David made messy by Kate being in love with him, and whether or not Javi loves her, too.

It's about Javi helping Clementine back on her path after she's been alone and bitter for so long. It's about them fighting to take down a group of people doing really shitty things to other communities. It's about losing Mariana and avenging her by killing the man who shot her. It's about Gabe feeling conflicted about his father, a man he always wanted to be just like, after realizing that David isn't this idealized figure Gabe thought he was.

It's about the promise Javi made to his father.

The fact that Javi happens to be bi doesn't matter in the grand scheme of the plot. It's just something that's apart of who he is, but because it's a small detail we feel was added in at the last minute, we decide it's not enough.

But what if it is enough? Do we even truly know what this concept of "enough" is?

Throughout writing this piece, I've found myself in a loop.

I'm happy Javier is bisexual. -> But should I be? -> We shouldn't settle for crumbs, we deserve more explicit representation. -> But is there really anything wrong with casual representation where the story doesn't focus on sexuality? It doesn't take away from other stories that do. -> I'm happy Javier is bisexual. -> But should I be?

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Queer stories are important and our voices need to be heard. We need stories that don't shy away from experiences that are hard to stomach. We need queer stories told by queer people. We need stories that are unapologetic, that aren't afraid to face their audience with pride. Stories that don't say "yeah but we have to bend a little to the bigots to maximize our profits." We need these stories that inspire us, hurt us, make us cry and piss us off. We need queer stories with happy endings that give us hope, that push us to seek a better future so that new generations of queer people don't feel alone in their struggles. We need queer stories that make us feel heard, seen.

Do stories with casual representation of queer characters fit in there somewhere, too? I think they do, because TFS is a casual representation story.

Clementine is bi and it isn't a big deal; she never has a moment where she's openly questioning, she doesn't have this big coming-out scene, there's no tears shed or anything. She isn't stomping around with her bi pride flag and announcing who she is with a heartwarming speech.

She just is.

Same thing with Violet. She never comes out to Clementine as a lesbian, no one ever calls her that, she just is.

Clementine's romance with Violet is treated just as it is with Louis, sincere and normal. No one questions her or Violet because to the Ericson crew, it is normal. They knew Violet and Minerva were together before but no one has any quips about it, positive or negative.

If you romance Violet but then save Louis, he makes mention that Clementine and Violet are close so why save him? But Louis, for as much as people side eye him for making jokes and never taking anything seriously, doesn't say anything more. He could've made a joke, "Ah, you like girls, I guess I never stood a chance then, haha." He doesn't, because it's not something out of the ordinary for him and it's not something he feels the need to pry over.

If you go fishing with Violet and Brody, you find the carved heart with Violet and Minerva's initials and AJ asks what it means. Clementine can tell him they were girlfriends, and AJ doesn't go, "Oh, that's weird," or "Huh, I didn't know girls could like each other." He just goes, "Oh. Love." and moves on because he grew up differently, it isn't a big deal to.

Even the antagonists aren't out here spewing homophobia, at least that I recall.

The Ericson crew are a generation that understands and accepts. Where Clementine could end up with either Louis or Violet and no one will raise a brow, or even feel compelled to signal their alliance like, "Ah, yes, I am accepting of you and your choice, good for you, I am an ally, I'm making this about me."

The Final Season of TWDG is great, and it proves that the writers at Telltale at the time wanted to explore these topics earnestly. It wasn't pandering or trying to score "woke points" with the LGBTQ+ community like some bigots will insist. If it were, it would've been way more obvious about it, I think.

Casual queer stories or serious stories that tackle the hardships of being gay?

Like the bisexual I am, I like both and everything in between.

Clementine didn't need to prove her bisexuality as "enough" in TFS, but since the circumstances were different, did Javier?

I'm going to take the potentially controversial road and say no. I understand why we wish they did more, and I understand why people have frustrations over creators dropping that information without actually having to commit in their work... but I also have some appreciation for the casual reveal of Javi being bi, regardless of why it was dropped.

Javier is valid. He didn't need to "prove" anything.

In a way, I believe we do have some control over the portrayal of Javier, and that's by engaging in fandom. If you were disappointed that Javi's queerness wasn't explored in game, then find a fic that does explore that side of him, or write your own. Engage with other people and their work about it. Comment on fanart, fics, and thought pieces. Write brain dumps. Find other Javi/Tripp shippers and prove me wrong, prove that Tripp is indeed Javi's type and have fun while doing it.

Telltale gave us the crumbs, so let that inspire us to bake a cake.

I don't think this concept of "not enough" is the most productive way we could go about discussing topics like this. Not everyone has the same level or standard, and every work is a unique case. But I think it is fun and productive to share ideas of what we would've done differently so that it may inspire us.

ANF, for all of its flaws, could be a tool used to teach us where our priorities are in storytelling, and influence what we want to create ourselves.

In conclusion: Javier Garcia is enough to me.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to crawl back to my bog and begin research into the meaning and metaphors behind walkers and their existence.

But before that, I want to give a big thank you to @pi-creates for making the Javi gif used in this essay, as well as for listening to all my bullshit during the writing process.

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chososdiscordkitten · 8 months ago

Text

Bite me.

Synopsis:Choso tastes readers blood for the first time >ᵥ_ᵥ<

Pairing: Vampire!Choso x fem!reader Content: porn w/plot, established relationship, blood (duh), biting, missionary, spit stuff, blood stuff, cream pie

MDNI

The little secret Choso had was supposed to stay just that- a secret. A secret pushed to the back of his mind- too shamed and fearful of what could happen had you found out.

But there were times Choso swore you knew. When you’d carelessly brush your hair onto one side, giving his teeth full access to the tastiest part of you. Even if to the bare eye it wasn’t noticeable, he could see the thick stream of blood in your jugular pulse whenever he looked at it.

As though you were begging him to sink his teeth into your skin without words.

His suspicions only grew when you would ask questions in an insinuating tone. Why the brown of his eyes had a sprinkle of crimson in them, why at times he would show up to your apartment- his lips lightly stained in a distant red. And why he had a metallic scent to him every now and then.

And most of all- why he would look at you like you were a meal to be had.

And with the blooming relationship between you and him, you simply blamed it on something all humans feel—something a man would feel when looking at a person he had an interest in.

But to him, Choso never picked apart the reasons why he wanted to drink from you. The only way he could describe it was starvation that couldn’t be satiated even with stolen blood bags. A hunger that Choso felt rumble his very soul when he looked at you.

And he would push that feeling down- too fearful of the risk of tasting you and the inability to stop, making him wish he was never plagued with such a disease.

That hunger roused in his heart the very first time you kissed him. Along with the itching feeling of a new kind of hunger. Desperately chasing the warmth your lips pressed onto his cold skin.

That very same warmth that reminded him that you were filled with the cerise liquid he dreamt of.

You had your own suspicions. Sure, Choso was a little strange at times. Specific phrases indicating he had claimed you, at once even saying how fucking good you smelled first thing in the morning. It made you squint- and tilt your head in the slightest.

But maybe he just couldn’t formulate ‘normal compliments’ that you had heard before. Instead of strange, you saw it as endearing when he would say those kinds of things.

But when Choso spoke as though he were from another time, his brown eyes blotted with deep red spots. How his pupils would pulse when you looked a little too closely into them. He could go in the sun, but rare were the times he would.

The time you nicked yourself while mincing vegetables- he ran up to help. At first, with all the urgency of the world- grabbing your finger and scolding you for being so careless.

And holding your lightly oozing digit in his hand, he would watch the cherry blood seep from your tissue. And god- your scent stuck in his nose the longer he held you. And when the smell flooded his brain- hazing any reservations he had.

Choso lifted the tip of your finger to his lips- flashing them up at you only for you to snatch your hand away from him- muttering something about how it would get infected before wrapping it up.

How his cold hands would cling to you and feel the humanity pulse through your veins. The overwhelming urge to have you, have you moved into his place- far too precious to leave you on your own.

If he, himself- your boyfriend was having these carnal urges to do these things to you- to taste you. What would another person do to you?

And Choso, when the realization that you would be sleeping beside him- thick thighs bare and your neck exposed, along with the pulse in your wrist. In deep sleep- unaware of the starved creature lying beside you.

That’s when Choso realized just how masochistic he was being.

He loved you more than enough to endure the rowling thoughts in his mind- enough to stay awake and watch you. Even if he closed his eyes and tried to ignore it- he could hear the liters of blood pulse beneath your skin. Choso endured it as much as he could.

And with you moving in, it made it harder to hide that secret. Why there was a mini fridge with a lock on it, stuffed full of blood bags—Choso was sure you would find any day now.

So when it came to the late-night activities only done in the bedroom- as though your bare skin begged for his teeth all over your body. Choso could feel two kinds of hunger pulse beneath his skin when he first touched you.

Even more so when your bare body was pressed against his- unknowing of the torment the act inflicted onto him. The plush warmth that would surround his member, reminding him that you were filled with the tantalizing red liquid everytime he pushed himself into you.

It ate away at him. It felt like a lie- the idea that you’d look at him as a monster had he told you plagued him.

But he feared you finding the bags and seeing him as a serial killer- or a madman, and losing you before he could explain what he was.

So he sat you down- hoping you’d have an open mind when he dared say the words.

Sitting on the couch, his cold hands holding yours. You found it odd—rare were the times Choso held that much severity in his eyes when he spoke to you.

You smiled genuinely, unknowing what he had to be so serious about.

His thumbs lightly caressed the tops of your hands. “Do you remember when he watched that movie—with the strange girl and the man who played Batman?”

You squint your eyes. “Twilight?” His cold thumbs halt their caresses, looking at you seriously with a soft nod.

Choso started stuttering over his words- saying that he was like that man, but it was different. Words were spewed from his throat, throwing them at you and hoping you would understand. Confessing this greatest sin that had eaten away at him from the moment of meeting you.

You only raised your eyebrows- hearing the blathering go on and on. Only for your eyes to squint, “Are you trying to tell me you’re a….” hesitating, knowing how insane it would have sounded.

Choso only nodded, looking down at your hands with a little laugh falling from your lips. “Is this some kind of roleplay you wanted to try?” You joked, watching his face fall from its severity and mumble a small ‘no.’

“First of all- if you were, you wouldn’t be living with me. You’d be off in Rome living in a castle-” Leaning back onto the couch with an unbelieving smile. “And your teeth aren’t pointy.” you giggled, watching the man before you look at you with sorry eyes.

He parted his lips to speak- “And? I’ve literally seen you go into the sun.” pulling your hands from his and crossing them across your chest.

“I don’t know how to explain it to you—I can barely comprehend it myself,” he defended, watching your face wear an unamused look.

You pursed your lips, sarcastically saying, “Start with proof—how ’bout that?” Bored of this larping Choso decided to start.

Choso pulled his lips to the side, thinking of his least jarring approach. Proof- there was a lot of, but he tried finding the least callous one to show you.

He parted his lips, lightly bearing his top row of teeth with a little huff falling from your throat- seeing the unsharpened canines look back at you.

Choso thought back to you- closing his eyes and recalling your blood’s metallic scent when he almost lost himself in it. He could hear your steady heartbeat quicken when the pearly canines grew slightly- pointed downwards with a sharp end.

You scoffed- refusing to believe his attempts at a joke. And as though he could hear your thoughts- claims that this had to be some parlor trick. He reached from your hand, placing it onto his chin and urging you to touch.

Gulping lightly when his voice rumbled from his throat, “Touch them- they’re real.”

And as your thumb lightly grazed his bottom lip, you leaned in closer with squinted eyes. Lightly pressing the pad of your thumb against the pointy tooth, unknowing how hard Choso’s heart was beating in that moment.

You slid your thumb down the tooth, pressing up into the pointed edge with a wince. Pulling away, you looked at the little prick on your thumb.

You parted your lips to speak, only for Choso to beat you to it. “And-” he muttered, placing his hands on the side of your head and pulling you close to him- looking into your eyes. Far too close and watching the little pupils dilate- the color around them slightly swirling with splotches of red.

Choso pressed his lips against yours- knowing he had drunk earlier. Pulling away from you and watching your smug expression fade- “Taste it-” he muttered, pressing his lips onto yours again.

And as you allowed his tongue to press against yours- you could taste what he was referring to. The light flavor of metal mixed with his spit. Pulling away from you and holding your head with urge- “Do you taste it?” he muttered, his lips lightly brushing against yours with every word.

Too in awe and bordering on fear- you only looked into his eyes with a hint of suspicion.

Standing up and taking your hand- guiding you to that little locked mini fridge and yanking off the lock. Too much urgency and frustration to go find the key.

He showed you another form of proof he was, as he claimed—his strength. Sure, you knew he was strong—able to manhandle you with ease, leaving light bruises on your skin whenever he would get too rough, able to bring in all the groceries in one trip. You blamed it on his physique, knowing he was beautifully sculpted beneath his loose-fitting clothing.

But this—pulling a metal lock from a metal hinge without any resistance or even a grunt of struggle leaving his lips. Made you wonder just how strong he was—and how much he was holding back before now.

All of that was proof enough- but the sight of neatly stacked blood bags confirmed it. You stood there for a second- looking at the crimson bags of plastic and feeling Choso’s gaze on your skin. Suddenly, too aware of how vulturous it felt. Before, it felt admiration-filled. It felt like a gaze full of love.

But now it felt like he was looking at you with appetite.

Your heartbeat beating quickly made Choso realize you took this seriously now. You looked over at him- face deadpan with your eyes hinting to fear. “You don’t- eat people, right?” you muttered, a scared tone infiltrating his ears.

Choso looked down to the ground, “Not currently, no.” he confessed, hearing your hand lightly close the little door of the minifridge and gulp.

“Are you gonna eat me?” you asked, causing his eyes to flash back up to you in fear.

He knit his eyebrows and took your hands in his again, “I would never eat you.” he vowed, looking into your eyes.

“Have you thought about it?” you murmured, watching his eyebrows pinch in shame.

“it’s hard not to,” he confessed, watching your head lightly nod.

And with a light inhale- you walked back onto the couch, watching him sit on the other end as you stared at him. A million questions whirring in your mind as he shifted in your gaze. Wishing he could hear what you were thinking.

Somehow, still trying to justify the proof you asked for; just more larping, he’s a weirdo- or a psychopath. But that softness in his eyes- gave you a reason to try and ignore the proof.

You stared at him for a few minutes, trying to find the words to say- or an excuse to leave the apartment and run.

And when you were finally able to conjure the words, “Can I ask questions?” you peered, your face stoic and unshowing how hard your heart was beating. Choso nodded his head ‘yes’- knowing the truth of what he just confessed must feel like a lie.

In a world of fictional demons and countless books written with blood sucking people- it was fair that you had your suspicions.

Choso knew—he watched those very movies with you, holding back comments like ‘that’s not true’ whenever an incorrect fact was spoken in the films.

Even if you held a deadpan expression, your heartbeat gave away how you truly felt, “For how long have you been,” stopping your sentence short and thinking on what word to use.

“Since the 1870’s.” he spoke honestly.

You peeked your eyebrows- mentally doing the math and taking a long blink. “That would make you-”

“175 years old.”

You lightly grimaced, thinking back on every time he would say some timely word you had only heard in the black-and-white movies you’d watch with him. “Why are you here—with me?” you reiterated, watching his avoidant eyes look down at his hands.

“I mean, it must be torture,” you muttered, thinking of the difficulty shown in every movie with this exact plot line.

Choso looked up at you. “At times, it can be.” He lightly nodded, being able to hear your heartbeat slow in the slightest. “But I know I would never hurt you.”

After a handful more questions; if he preferred a specific kind of blood, what kind of people tasted better. Your heartbeat fell back into its normal state.

There was an adjustment period- asking if you could sleep on the couch rather than next to him. Not scared- but nervous to sleep next to him. And Choso being the man he was- he took that responsibility and slept on the couch for as long as you asked.

But then came the moment of acceptance- and Choso swore you started doing these things on purpose. Pulling your hair back and giving him a complete view of your neck. As controlled as his bloodlust was- it was still obscene how thirsty he got looking at you. And something carnal threatened to control his actions rather than his head.

And times when he would hug you- getting a nose full of that sweet scent that seeped from your skin. Or when you started sleeping in tank tops- exposing more of your skin to him as you slept. Helpless and too tired to notice his heavy gaze on your collarbones.

It also didn’t help when you realized that Choso was turned when he was a few years older than you— it hit you like a truck.

Fearing to get older than the age he was when he was turned. Then came the talk of if he would turn you.

When Choso thought about it- he wasn’t like any other protagonist in any vampire media. Choso was selfish and afraid of the day when you’d die- leaving him to roam the earth alone again.

“It isn’t as simple as just turning you,” he muttered, knowing what it meant when someone like him turned their partner. That’s the only part the stupid films got correct.

Sat on the kitchen counter and watching him patter through the kitchen- cooking you a meal as you pestered him with the same question. “You mean the whole- once I turn, we’re supposed to stay together forever?” you asked, unamused with the doubt he held.

“That- and technically, you’d be soulless,” he muttered as you let out a small laugh.

“Of all people- you are the last one I would describe as soulless, Choso.”

You scoffed, pulling your hair to the side and watching his shoulders tense up. Slightly tilting your neck and looking at him- “Is it not tempting?” You whispered in a taunt, watching his eyes flash to the smooth skin you displayed for him.

Thinking the way it worked was the same as the Twilight movies- one bite and you’d be turned, right?

Only your offerings meant nothing but a way of tasting you. Choso knew you wouldn’t become as he was from one bite. But christ- it was tempting.

It made his brain throb in his skull, being able to hear every little pulse your neck pumped with crimson. “It doesn’t work like that.” he muttered, stepping away from the stove and taking a step towards you.

“Still, you never wanted to taste it-” his hips easing between your thighs, placing his cold hands against the sides of your thighs. “You never wanted to taste me?” you whispered, his eyes blinking down to the exposed skin of your neck and gulping.

Choso’s hands gripped lightly at your thighs, almost bracing for what he was about to say- “I don’t want to hurt you.” he breathed, his eyes dark and full of want.

“You can control yourself, right?” you whispered, his head nodding softly. “Think about it- once I turn, you’ll never be able to taste me.” tone full of feigned pity, knowing he would turn you- even if he hadn’t said it yet.

Choso’s lips parted slightly and his mouth went dry. The thought pained his heart- knowing you had a point. “‘Lemme think about it.” he muttered, kissing your cheek quickly before turning back to the pan on the stove.

You sighed a drawn-out breath, “Dunno how you do it,” you muttered, watching his shoulders fall from tension. “If you were begging me to bite you- to taste you.” you exhaled sharply, “I wouldn’t have made you ask twice.”

And he did think about it- weighing out the options in his brain. How bad it would actually be if he tasted you- ’cause that’s all you offered. Just a taste, but with how sweet you smelled- Choso wasn’t sure that 'ust a taste' would be enough for him.

That paired with the pain you would feel, two sharp teeth sinking into your skin- Choso had no idea why you would keep offering. Why you kept provoking him to hurt you.

So one late night, your hands drawing searing touches onto Choso’s skin with your lips softly peppering kisses onto his cheek.

Most of the time, it was you who would instigate these activities. Too afraid to hurt you had Choso not kept his hands to himself.

However, this was the first time you instigated these acts after he confessed his secret to you. And still- Choso tried keeping his hands to himself, even if your own were daring to slip past the band of his sweats.

Topless and on your back, legs spread with his hips daring to rut into your clothed core. You raised a hand beneath the hem of his t-shirt, lightly grazing his back with your nails and kissing his ear lightly.

“Touch me-” you whispered into his ear, intent and urge soaking your words as his hands roam up your thighs.

A soft whimper left his lips at your words- his mind reeling at the fact that you were aware of the kind of monster he was, and you still wanted his touch.

His lips lightly pressed kisses onto your jugular- holding all the restraint he could as he felt the pulse of life beneath your skin. Your hands tugging at the fabric on his back in desperation- his hips responding by bucking into the clothing separating him from your warmth.

Taking a hand from your hip and placing it onto the band of your bottoms- sinking his fingers beneath the layers and to your soaked cunt. Showing him just how negligent he had been since he confessed to you.

A light whimper left your lips as he pulled his own from your neck, too tempted by the vulnerability to keep himself there.

The tips of his middle and ring fingers sink down to the source of your slick- lightly circling at your entrance and coating them before trailing them to the puffy bud atop.

Placing your lips on his again- desperate to relieve the ache between your legs as your tongue swirled against his. The distant taste of metal in his mouth as your eyebrows knitted together. His eager fingers started small circles against you, his hips mindlessly bucking into the air between you as your moans rumbled onto his lips.

It was agonizing the pace Choso tried keeping- your walls so desperate to pull him between them and feel him thrust.

The light touch his fingers kept only made your hips buck into his hand- gasping between every other kiss at the pressure. The grip his other hand held on your side- bordering on bruising from how frustrated he was starting to feel.

Beneath the layers of fabric- throbbing tears soiling his bottoms with every light roll his hips made to relieve the yearning his cock felt.

You tried holding out- suffered sighs of frustrations leaving your lips as his hand continued its snail pace.

But the ache you felt- Choso’s fingers only taunted it. So as you pulled away from him- looking into the mix of brown and red eyes staring back at you, “Need you inside-” you murmured with need, your words filling the air between your lips and his as your hands pushed down the band of his sweats.

The tips of your fingers pressing against the side of his thigh- almost as a plea.

And as you asked of him, Choso clashed his lips back to yours as he removed his hand from your bottoms- his hands full of desire as they pulled your pj bottoms off. Far too eager and desperate to grant your wish with the sweet scent of your skin filling the air- muddying his mind as your hands assisted in removing his bottoms.

Tugging at the hem of his shirt with his chest heaving- watching his hands remove the useless fabric and toss it aside. A small groan of appeasement left your lips as you got an eyeful of his sculpted torso.

Wasting no time in placing your hands on his hips, guiding him to ease himself back where he was before. Choso’s cockhead bordered on turning a violent shade of red as his hands found their place on your hips.

Your hand reaching for is base- urging him to sink into you as you had asked. Choso’s mind was hazy, unable to think as he looked down to the millimeters of space separating his cock from your entrance.

Your bare skin secreting the aroma the cause of the misty state his brain was in. Feeling the light pang of his canines that threatened to grow- a telltale sign he wanted to feed.

His hips followed the guidance your hand led him to, sucking air sharply through his teeth as your warmth surrounded the tip of his aching cock. The alarming rate of your heartbeat causes his eyes to blink back at you.

Wearing a desperate expression and a trembling lip- your mouth whispering muddy words in a silent plea.

And as your hand eased off his cock- Choso’s hips moved forwards, nuzzling his tip further into you as he closed his lips. Avoiding your gaze with his eyes shut tight- trying to hold back every urge that pulsed in his head.

His hips started slow strokes, easing himself out of you with a sigh of desperation. And your cunt tried with all its might to suck him back in, and Choso- not knowing how much longer he could keep his urges at bay, was so fucking close to rutting into you again- quicker and without hesitation.

Your hands clawed at his biceps, drawing him from the focus he tried holding. Soft moans escaped your plush lips when the tip of his cockhead nudged against the most sensitive spot inside of you.

Choso raised his head to face you- his mouth parted and his eyebrows pinched tightly. Your eyes caught onto the glistening peaks of white that Choso’s lips tried hiding, eyes full of hunger and thirst.

His hand rose from your hip and landed on your neck, feeling the warmth course beneath his grasp. Some way of bracing himself as he fought off the impulse.

Your hand trailed up his shoulder, landing on his nape and lightly pulling his ear to your lips. With a tone that sounded like the very gates of heaven to his ears, “Bite me.” you whispered, your hand guiding his head down to your neck where his lips previously kissed.

Choso’s mind was too foggy to even focus on his past reservations. The hand at his back clawing gently, your cunt surrounding his cock, the light hold your hand held on his scalp; made Choso yield the very last of his will over to you.

Closing his eyes as his nose engulfed the scent of your skin, his hips losing pattern in the slow strokes he held. Parting his lips and placing a wet kiss onto the place his teeth ached for.

The light moans leaving your lips were heard as an urgency to his ears, bearing his teeth and lightly grazing the sharp canines against your skin. A shiver settling in your spine at the feather-like scratch.

Choso’s teeth sinking into your skin with a wince mixed with a gasp falling from your lips. The groan Choso rumbled against the punctures made your hand lightly pull on his hair, tucking your lip between your teeth at the sting, losing the feeling of it as it mixed with the pleasure from his cock.

Choso almost came when your taste waved into his mouth. His thrusts sloppy as the saccharine taste of you trickled down his throat- warm, unlike the countless blood bags he had sustained himself on. And sweet- so��fucking sweet.

Eyes closed and bordering on rolling to the back of his head with his hips quickening.

Then the reminder of, ‘just a taste’ rumbled in his mind. Unsheathing his sharp teeth from your skin and opening his eyes. Looking back to you- small trickles of blood on his lip with a look of fear in his eyes. His breathing labored and trying to hold back the throaty whines that dared leave his lips.

You moaned lightly- pulling his lips back to yours and tasting yourself on him. Uncaring of the strong taste of metal, you slathered your tongue against his, sloppy and inconsistent. Mostly sharp teeth clashing against your own as your essence laced his spit.

Your hold on his hair strengthened, a mess forming between your lips and his. Your eyes squinting tightly as his thrusts became rougher, the warmth in your tummy pooling at the action.

The hand on the opposite side of your neck lightly squeezed in desperation, your orgasm building as his tip bullied your gspot. Pulling away from him in a hymn-like moan, unable to keep the attempts of a kiss with every strong thrust he made.

Choso’s eyes blinked at your lips, lightly glazed in your essence with a small smudge at the corner of your mouth. He couldn’t help the mumbled words of, ‘M’sorry-’ that left his throat, connecting his lips with yours again and feeling the walls of your cunt flutter around him.

His eyes rolling back with the evident taste on your tongue. Thrusts sloppy and fast- pounding into you as your hands tugged at whatever they could find. Clawing at the broad of his back, and grasping a handful of brown hair in the other.

Soft whines lacing your exhales as you come undone, a low guttural moan separating your lips from his. Choso’s teeth clenched at the sudden vice-like grasp your cunt held around him.

The hand on your hip held a mean grip as he worked himself to orgasm. His chest caving against yours with every sharp exhale he made.

Your hand trailed from his hair and down to his jaw, placing your thumb on his lower cheek and curling your fingers beneath his chin. Angling his face for you to see, his scarlet-tinted lips trembling, his dark hairline dampened with a light veil of sweat, your low eyes watched with soft grunts leaving your lips.

Choso parted his eyes as he felt the grip you held his lower face with, watching an expression of desire form on your face as he felt the wave of his orgasm crash through him with a low grunt.

Thick and heavy pumps of his essence filled you, watching his peaked eyebrows wiggle with the slowing thrusts his hips made.

Huffing heavily as he nuzzled his cock further into you- as deep as he could. Lowering his forehead to yours and batting his eyes closed, pressing down a lazy kiss to your plush lips.

Steadying his breathing as your hands eased their grip. Lifting himself slightly, blinking his eyes open in a hazy afterglow- darting his eyes to the holes he punched into your skin.

Regret filling his stomach as he lightly tilts your head to the side, to give him a better view of the wounds. Mentally scolding himself for losing control and doing as you asked, even if the light trickling of your blood enticed him for more- the love he felt in his heart overrode his primal urges.

Easing himself out of you with a wince, sitting on his knees as you followed him. Pulling a sheet from the side of the bed over your bare body.

Sitting up and feeling his hand hold your neck in a curve, you grinned, peering into his worried expression. "It's okay." you declared.

You reached up to his hand, holding it in yours and looking at him straight on. “I liked it.” you whispered, watching his eyes blink in confusion. The corners of his mouth stained with your blood, parting his lips as you lightly caressed his cold hand.

Furrowing his eyebrows in disappointment in himself, “I can't-” Choso whispered, bordering on a whimper.

Just seeing the scabbing wounds was more painful to him than to you.

Knowing he was the one that did it- hurt just as much. And yet you asked for more. Continuously offering yourself as his own personal blood bag- warmed to the perfect temperature and laced with the sweetest flavor that he had ever tasted.

And he tried—Choso tried with everything in him not to let your words convince him otherwise. But the taste of you couldn’t be washed out from his tongue—not even with a hundred bags of cold blood from strangers.

So convinced that it was only because it came from someone he loved- that he found such addiction in it. That and how you would allow him to drink the liquid from your skin knowing it would satiate his hunger.

And everytime you would offer your body to him- he would always look at your eyes, asking for your sanction.

Even if the hunger pulsed in his stomach, that’s what he would wait for- the clear permission he was allowed to sink himself into you again.

(a.n) how I only used the word 'vampire' once? I have no idea.

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punkshort · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter warnings: explicit smut (I don't know how much detail I should go into without giving too much away, but let's call it porn with a sprinkling of plot), language

Chapter Fourteen

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

The sun was bright as it beamed through the window, washing over your face and making you squint before you even opened your eyes. You groaned and rolled over, wondering how you had forgotten to close the curtains last night when you realized you weren't in bed, but on the couch in the living room. You cracked one eye open and looked around, spotting the wine glasses on the coffee table and the fire that had gone out long ago. Opening both eyes, you sat up and looked around the living room, then peered into the kitchen when you didn't see Joel. Looking down, you noticed he had covered you with a blanket at some point. You pushed it to the side and stood up to stretch, the side with your injury responding with a quick jolt, reminding you to take it easy.

You wandered into the kitchen looking for any sign of Joel. Anxiety set in as you wondered if he regretted last night, that maybe he was drunk, and you thought it meant more than it did. You paused at the bottom of the stairs when you heard water splashing from the bathroom off the master bedroom. He's probably just washing up.

You whipped your head around trying to remember where you put your backpacks yesterday, then spotted them in the den. You dug through your pack until you found a half-used tube of toothpaste. You squirted a glob onto your pointer finger and swished it around your teeth, cheeks and tongue as you walked to the kitchen to take a swig of water from your canteen and rinsed.

Trying to keep your nerves in check, you approached the stairs and slowly made your way up, listening as the sound of water stopped. You heard fabric rustling on the other side of the door when you entered the bedroom. The attempt at calming your nerves was a lost cause as you felt your heart hammering in your chest. You looked meekly around the bedroom, unsure what to do with yourself as he finished up. You wanted to sit on the bed, but you didn't want to look like you were just out there waiting for him to come fuck you. Finally, you decided to go into the closet where you kept some spare clothes so you could pretend to be busy folding them. You turned away from the bathroom and took one step in the direction of the closet when the door swung open.

He must have washed his hair because it was wet and slicked back. He had put a flannel on with his usual jeans, but he left the top two buttons undone on his shirt, giving you a peek at his tanned chest. Your mouth hung open as you took him in before finally meeting his heated stare.

"Hi," you murmured, the tension palpable. Joel took two long strides and grabbed your face in his hands, pulling you up to him as his lips found yours. He sighed against your mouth when he felt you return the kiss, massaging your lips on his, then granted you access when your teeth grazed his lower lip. He walked you backwards until you hit the wall of the bedroom, his tongue hungrily exploring your mouth, making you moan. He lowered his hands from your face to reach down and grip the backs of your thighs before yanking both your legs up to wrap around his waist, pinning you between him and the wall.

You squeaked in surprise and grabbed onto his broad shoulders to keep you balanced, your tongue swirling with his as one of his hands slid up your thigh to grab your ass, giving it a firm squeeze while his other hand braced himself on the wall behind you. He ground his hips into your aching core, making you break the kiss and cry out. Even through the thick fabric of your jeans, the contact sent a jolt from your cunt to your fingertips. You gasped as his mouth latched onto your neck, nipping up and down your throat followed by soft licks to soothe any pain he may have caused.

"Joel," you panted, raking your nails through his wet hair and gently over his scalp, making his eyes roll back in his head as he moaned against your neck. "Please," you begged, grinding your hips against his to try to find some relief. He removed his hand from the wall and lifted you up, turning you both around and walked the few steps to the bed, tossing you down to land on your back. He stood between your legs at the end of the bed, panting and staring down at you all sprawled out for him. You reached down to unbutton your jeans and shimmied out of them, tossing them on the floor. His gaze immediately locked onto your underwear, which were nothing special, just a pair of light blue cotton panties, but your arousal was evident by the darkness spreading at the center, making him groan loudly and palm his erection over his jeans.

You leaned back on your elbows with your knees bent and legs partially spread. His gaze flicked up from your pussy to look you in the eye. His lips were parted as his chest heaved, and his pupils were blown wide as he ran his eyes down your body again, drinking you in. Even with your shirt still on, you were beginning to feel self-conscious under his stare.

"Don't you want me?" you asked him sweetly, making him tear his eyes off your body and back onto your face. Lips still parted, he nodded eagerly, and palmed his cock again. He had yet to say a single word to you and you were growing impatient.

"Then tell me," you said, watching as he swallowed roughly, "tell me how badly you want me."

He growled as he leaned forward on the bed, placing his fists on either side of you to hold himself up, and gently pressed his lips against yours again, slowly applying more pressure to your mouth as he inched forward, pushing you to lay flat on your back as he brought his knees to rest between your legs. He released your lips and lifted his head up to look at you, taking one of his hands still fisted next to you on the bed to gently cup your face. His gaze was soft, and his eyes sparkled from the sun peeking through the curtains as he admired you. You sighed and closed your eyes, leaning into his touch.

"I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you," he croaked, his voice thick with emotion. You opened your eyes to meet his gaze as he continued, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "I wasted so much time, fought it for so long," he said, shaking his head, "I never thought I could feel this way again, then you showed up, talkin' back to me in that meeting in front of everyone."

He smiled at the memory, running his thumb over your soft lips.

"Couldn't get you out of my damn head, you know that?" He leaned down to give your lips a tender kiss as you whimpered at his sweet words. "Then the world went to hell, and there we were, protectin' each other, carin' for each other." You smiled up at him now, trying not to ruin the moment with tears. You placed your hand over the one he held on to your face, rubbing circles over his damaged knuckles.

"I don't think I can put into words how badly I want you, sweetheart," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. "But I promise you, I ain't gonna waste another second spent with you ever again."

"Joel," you rasped, desperately trying to hold back your tears as he lifted his head up, and you looked back and forth between his eyes. You snaked your hand around to the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss you, pouring all your emotions into every bite on his lip and flick of your tongue. Joel ran his hand down your side to the bottom of your shirt, pushing it up as he slid his hand up your stomach and over your ribs until he reached your bra. He tucked his fingers underneath the fabric to palm your breast gently before expertly rolling your nipple between his fingers.

You cried out at the sensation and tipped your head backwards, arching your back and pushing yourself into his hand further. He leaned back on his knees to lift your shirt over your head, followed quickly by your bra. You laid underneath him, almost completely exposed, while he was still fully clothed. You whined and pulled at the waistband of his jeans, preventing him from staring at the pink scars along your ribs.

He slid off the bed to quickly shed his jeans and flannel, leaving him in just his boxers as he crawled back on top of you, pressing his warm skin against your own. The air was making the arousal soaking through your underwear feel cold against your skin, and you shuddered. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and placed gentle nips along your collarbone. He held himself above you on one forearm next to your head while his free hand went back to cup your other breast, pinching your nipple between his fingers. You were pinned underneath him, hardly able to move, but you ran your hands up his arms, feeling his muscles twitching under your touch. Your hands landed on his shoulders, and when he gave your nipple a particularly harsh pinch, you dug your fingers into his muscles, rolling your head to the side and let out a yelp.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured against your throat. "Let me make it feel better."

He bent his head down to latch onto the sore spot, sucking your nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue over the tip. You moaned, threading your fingers through his drying curls. He released you from his mouth, hovering just over your breast, and gently blew across the wetness he left on your skin. The shock of going from warm to cold made your nipples harden even more, to the point where it was almost painful.

"Fuck, Joel, please," you begged him as he placed gentle kisses along your sternum. His eyes shot up to your face, taking pride in how unraveled you had become under him. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips swollen, and you were struggling to catch your breath. He hummed against your skin. He wanted to give you what you wanted, but he didn't want to rush, either.

"You're gonna have to give me a minute, sweetheart. I've been waitin' a long time for this." he said, sighing as his fingers danced around your ribs. He froze when he felt the shiny, uneven skin of your scars from when you were stabbed. Stabbed when you saved his life.

He lifted his head to get a better look at the injury, gently running his fingers along the edges, marveling at the way goosebumps raised immediately from your skin. He leaned down to press a soft kiss along each of the scars you carried, murmuring to himself after each one.

"What did you say?" you panted, struggling to focus on anything other than his touch.

He ran the tip of his nose over the scars before answering.

"I'm so proud of you, you're so brave and beautiful," he whispered. "I'd do anythin' to keep you safe."

You groaned, wondering if it was possible to have an orgasm from just words alone. You beamed from the praise and lifted your hips up to try to find friction, your cunt pulsing with need. Joel noticed the movement and glanced down between you, deciding to finally give in.

He rolled off you to lay on his side, then wrapped his fingers around the edges of your underwear, tugging them down to your ankles, where you kicked them off the rest of the way. He eagerly climbed back over you and nudged your knees open wider so he could kneel between them. He sat back on his heels and, using his thumbs, pulled open your folds. His jaw hung open, and with a long, drawn-out groan, dragged his eyes back up to yours.

"This all for me?" He drawled, his cock throbbing in his boxers. All you could do was nod, your chest heaving in anticipation. "You're soaked, fuckin' hell, you poor thing," he said, looking back down at your dripping cunt. "D'you want me to take care of you?" he asked lowly, his eyes a darker shade of brown you've never seen on him before. You nodded again, still gasping for air. He reached his bandaged hand up and lightly gripped the underside of your chin.

"Tell me," he growled your previous words back to you, as he struggled to restrain himself from just sliding inside you right away. He wanted to make it last, wanted to make you feel good. He wanted it to mean something.

"I need you," you gasped, your fingers gripping the sheets so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. "Please, baby, I'm gonna explode if - oh!" Your back arched off the mattress and your head tilted back, mouth agape when he finally slid a thick finger inside you.

"'Baby?'" Joel panted, "Oh, I like that."

You let out a filthy moan as he set a steady pace, plunging his finger in and out, his thumb brushing against your clit teasingly before he slid a second finger inside. You bent your knees as you rocked your hips along with his thrusts, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched you come undone. With his thumb, he pressed down on your clit, swirling it around slowly as he watched your pleasure building, your gasps for air became harsher, and your moans morphing into cries.

He leaned forward on his free hand, his fist pushing into the mattress next to you, as his other hand picked up the pace inside your cunt. His jaw was slack, and his eyes were glazed over as he watched your face contort in pleasure, your eyes squeezed shut, your lower lip trapped in your teeth, moaning his name. When he pressed onto your clit a little harder and began wiggling his thumb side to side, it set something off. You gripped his wrist that was next to you on the bed and your eyes snapped open, finally looking up at him.

"Joel," you panted, "J-Joel, I'm gonna, fuck, please," you begged, "please d-don't stop."

"You're doin' so good for me, sweetheart," he murmured, "I love watchin' you like this. I can't wait to feel this tight pussy around my cock, but I need you to come for me first," you felt the coil in your stomach about to snap and you did your best to keep your eyes open. When he said, "That's it, let go... come for me," your body stilled as you gasped, your vision went fuzzy and you covered your mouth with the back of your hand, biting down.

Joel removed his fingers and leaned down to plant a small kiss on your forehead, then your nose, and removed your hand so he could press his lips against yours before resting your foreheads together, waiting until you caught your breath and came back down to earth. You stared up at him lazily, trailing a finger over his shoulder and across his collarbone, noticing for the first time he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You looked back at his face as he smiled down at you, but you could see the restraint behind his eyes, desperately trying to give you time to recover, but he was struggling.

You reached down between you and slid your hand inside his boxers, brushing up against the tip of his cock. You made your way down to the base and wrapped him in your hand. He hissed and his eyes fluttered closed as you began to work him up and down, gathering his precum with each stroke.

"Do you like that?" you asked him quietly, twisting your wrist back and forth now as you pumped him up and down, his breath growing erratic and the arm that supported him began to shake.

"Yes," he rasped. His forehead rested on your shoulder so you could feel the tickle of his exhale on your neck. "But you gotta stop, or else this'll be over before it began."

You let out a low chuckle but did as you were told. Once you let him go, you hooked your fingers on the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down as far as you could reach. He lifted his forehead off your shoulder so he could fling them into the corner of the room, then settled back over you again, leaning down to give you a quick kiss as his knees nudged your inner thigh. You opened your legs up wider so he could settle his hips in between, his heavy cock pressed between you both, the length of him sliding between your folds as his hips gently rocked back and forth.

A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he felt your slick coating him. He was rubbing against your clit, and it was driving you crazy, already feeling the start of another orgasm building.

"Joel, please, I need you," you whispered against his mouth. He lifted his hips up and with his fist, lined himself up, the tip of his cock gently prodding at your entrance a few times before he pushed himself inside your aching heat.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned as he inched further inside you, stretching you out. He tried to go slow, but he couldn't hold back any longer. He buried himself inside you with one quick motion, making you both cry out. He gave you a minute to adjust before he leaned forward and rested his head back on your shoulder, rocking slowly into you as you raked your fingers through his hair.

"You're so warm, so beautiful," he murmured with his eyes closed. "You feel so good," his hand came down to squeeze the meaty part of your hip as he continued his steady pace. He didn't want to rush, he wanted to savor every moment with you. You bit your lip and lightly scratched your nails down his back, enjoying the feeling of him filling you up.

Joel lifted his head from your shoulder to press his lips against yours before peppering your jaw and sucking on the pulse point in your neck. You groaned as he lifted one of your knees up and pressed it against your chest, sliding out of you slowly before snapping his hips into yours, making you see stars. He created the perfect angle to hit your sweet spot when he brought your knee up, and it was dizzying.

He continued down your neck as his pace increased, leaving small bites along your collarbone. All you could hear was your skin slapping together and his quiet grunts that accompanied each thrust. You could feel your orgasm building in your lower abdomen, the familiar tension brewing as his pubic bone made direct contact with your clit each time he fucked into you.

"Joel," you whined, trying to warn him you were close.

"Keep takin' it," he grunted into your neck. "Just like that."

You squeezed your eyes shut trying to stave off your orgasm, but the noises he was making and the spot he was hitting inside was too much. You arched off the bed with a sob, digging your nails into his back. Your lips and fingers felt numb as your second orgasm washed over you, then finally you relaxed into the mattress. Joel sped up now, burying himself into you at a ruthless pace. He lifted his mouth from your neck and met your gaze.

"Tell me," he croaked again, his hair a mess and his face flush. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours, Joel," you whimpered. You were becoming sore and overstimulated as he pounded into you, but you kept talking. "I'm yours. I've been yours since we met," you continued as his thrusts became sloppy and his jaw clenched, focused on your words. "I wish you fucked me on the table in the conference room that night."

That sent him over the edge, pulling out at the last minute with a guttural moan and spurting hot ropes of cum all over your inner thighs.

Joel had to fight to keep himself from collapsing on top of you, instead rolling himself to the side at the last minute, gasping for air. He wrapped his arm around your waist and tugged you into him, planting small kisses on your temple and eyelids as you hummed, trying to collect yourself after two back-to-back orgasms. You finally opened your eyes and looked at him, his neck still splotched with red from the exertion and the sweat drying on his forehead. You couldn't help yourself. You reached your hand up to grasp the back of his head and brought him down for a burning kiss, running your tongue along his with a groan.

He sighed against your mouth before forcing himself to stand. He went to the bathroom to wet a rag and brought it back, gingerly cleaning up your thighs as you laid spread out before him. Your spent cunt was all he could focus on for a minute before he cleaned up the mess between your legs, taking a moment to admire his handiwork, then dropped the rag in the sink before sliding back beside you in bed.

"We should probably get up," you said to him, your eyes still closed. "You need to find a car battery."

"Batteries aren't goin' anywhere," he murmured, tightening his grip on your waist in case you were going to try to get up and start the day.

You laid there for a while, unsure if he had fallen asleep or not, but you felt so relaxed you weren't sure yourself if you were drifting in and out. You rubbed circles with your thumb along the back of his hand that clutched your waist and watched the sunlight dance along the walls of the bedroom. For the first time in a long time, you felt at peace.

"You’re right, that was worth the wait," you whispered. His face was buried in your hair, his breath tickling your neck, and his soft snores lulled you back to sleep.

Later that morning, Joel ventured out to the various garages in the neighborhood, trying to find a battery with enough juice to power the radio. You tried to busy yourself with unpacking and repacking your backpacks, making sure you were fully stocked with first aid, clothes, food, ammo, and rags - anything to keep your mind off the last 24 hours and how things have changed. But hard as you tried, your mind kept wandering to the feeling of Joel's hands and mouth all over you.

You heard a soft rumble of thunder in the distance. Looking out the window, you could see the sky was getting dark quickly. You glanced up and down the street to see if you could see Joel nearby but saw nothing.

You were in the small pantry, organizing the canned goods you collected and deciding which you would use for dinner tonight when Joel strolled through the front door, calling your name. You popped your head out from the pantry to grab his attention, noticing two car batteries in his arms. He put them both on the kitchen counter and turned to you, your hands each holding a canned vegetable.

“I think one of these might work,” he told you excitedly, "Got back just in time, it's about to pour." You tried to hide your disappointment. You knew that getting the radio to work was the beginning of the end to your blissful, domestic life at Hidden Springs. You gave him a pained smile and put the cans on the counter.

“That’s great,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “Do you want corn or green beans tonight?”

Joel immediately picked up on your mood, taking a step forward and gently took hold of your chin in his hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes searching yours for answers. You shook your head, still dodging his gaze, trying to release his grip, but it only made him grab you tighter.

“I don’t want this to end,” you finally admitted, looking into his eyes for the first time. “I’m not ready to leave.”

His eyes softened as he looked at you, stroking his thumb along your jaw before pulling you forward to place his lips over yours for the first time since you left the bedroom. You moaned, wrapping your arm around the back of his neck to pull him closer and deepening the kiss. His tongue flicked against your lips, and you opened your mouth, allowing him to explore deeper. The desire damn near suffocated you as you ran your hand down his chest to his waistband, pulling him forward and groaning at the feeling of his stiffening cock against your hip. His hands ran down the length of you before settling on the back of your thighs and lifted you up to sit on the kitchen island. Joel broke the kiss and took half a step back to admire you, raking his eyes up and down your body.

“I had a fantasy like this, once,” he admitted, rubbing his hands along your thighs.

“Yeah?” you whined, chasing his mouth as he hovered over your own but stayed just out of reach. “Tell me.” He groaned at the now familiar command, gripping your hips tightly.

“I wanted to fuck you on my kitchen island,” he confessed, staring you dead in the eye as he watched for your reaction. “I wanted to sink my fingers inside you and watch you come, then I wanted to stuff you full of my cock and make you scream.” A rumble of thunder sounded closer now, the skies looking like they were about to open up.

Your head dropped to the side and your eyes rolled to the back of your head at his words, panting for breath now as you reached out to grab his shoulder and pull him closer to you. Your lips latched onto his feverishly, and slipping down from the counter, unbuttoned your jeans before breaking the kiss and turning around, pressing your ass against his hips. You looked back at him innocently over your shoulder.

“Show me," you told him, as the rain began to fall quietly outside.

That was all the permission he needed to unzip your pants and yank them down along with your underwear, tapping your ankle with his own to make you spread your legs as far as you could with your legs still caged by your jeans. You obliged, jutting your hips out to him, anxiously waiting for his touch. He ran his hands down your ass slowly before giving one cheek a firm smack, prompting a small cry from you. He wasted no time before he took two fingers to explore along your slit, feeling the wetness collecting there as you moaned and tilted your head back.

“Are you always this ready, sweetheart?” he mumbled in your ear, slipping one finger inside you as you gasped and shook your head.

“No,” you replied, rolling your head to the side, “only for you.”

He groaned at your words, pushing a second finger inside you, making you wail as he thrusted them in and out, his breath ragged matching your moans. He pumped his fingers inside of you from behind, your hips matching his pace as you tried to chase your high, his other hand digging mercilessly into your hip.

“Joel,” you whined, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pressure build. “I’m gonna come, baby, please!”

“Then do it,” he snarled in your ear, a flash of lightning reflected on the windows. His hand released your hip and went down to hastily undo his belt. “Come all over my fingers, then I’m gonna make you scream my name with my cock.” He pressed a finger on your aching clit two, three times before you came, gasping and throwing your head back.

He didn't waste any time, quickly removing his fingers from your cunt and pressing the tip of his cock against your opening, giving you only a few seconds to realize what was happening before he pushed inside you with a deep groan. This time, he hardly gave you any time to adjust as he snapped his hips against your ass over and over, making you cry out and bite down on your lip, gripping the edges of the counter. He leaned forward and sunk his teeth into your clothed shoulder as you bucked against him, your hips desperately trying to match his rhythm. The rain beat steadily on the windows now as you could feel beads of sweat beginning to form at the sides of your head, gasping for air at the intense pace Joel set. You turned your head as far as you could to look back over your shoulder at him, his jaw slack as he stared down where he pummeled into you, your ass rippling with each thrust.

"Was it like this?" you asked, panting for breath. He finally looked up and saw you watching him, a smile spreading across your face.

"No," he grunted, fucking into you faster, making you squeeze the edges of the counter even harder. "This is so much fuckin' better."

You groaned and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your pussy squeezed around him, and he could tell you were about to come.

"That's it," he panted, pulling you up from the counter so your back was flush against his chest, the new angle sending you over the edge. "Let go. Let me feel it. I can't get enough."

As promised, you screamed out his name at the same time thunder roared outside. You felt a jolt go through your whole body as you came, your slick coating his cock, gazing helplessly at the ceiling as he rammed into you, chasing his own release.

"That's my girl," he gasped in your ear, his arm wrapped around your chest so you could barely move. "Fuck, you feel so good, like you were made for me-" He grunted and then quickly pulled out, making you whine at the sudden loss, but then you felt the warmth of his release coating your ass and dripping down the backs of your thighs.

You slumped forward over the island to catch your breath, and Joel followed suit, resting the side of his face between your shoulder blades as his hands slid down your arms down to find your own hands, splayed flat on the countertop, intertwining your fingers together. Your eyes fluttered closed, relishing the intimacy before he inevitably pulled away to clean you both up. After tucking himself back into his jeans, he kneeled on the floor to loop his fingers around the sides of your panties, still wrapped around your ankles, and pulled them up, peppering the backs of your legs with kisses along the way.

He began to pull on your jeans, but halfway up you reached down to take them from him, wiggling your hips as the denim slid around your waist. You turned around to face him, buttoning them back up before planting a bruising kiss on his lips. He groaned against your mouth, his hand coming up to cup your face before pulling back, resting your foreheads together.

"You're gonna wear me out, sweetheart," he murmured as his thumb stroked your jaw. You sighed, leaning into his touch and gazed up at him through your eyelashes.

"I can't help it, I just keep thinking about all the times we could have been doing this," you whispered, your hand coming up to cover his own. "You could have been bending me over the desk in your office a year ago, instead of a kitchen counter in the middle of nowhere."

He inhaled sharply at the visual of fucking you in his office, his hand covering your mouth as he railed into you.

"Filthy girl," he muttered, pressing his lips firmly against yours before adding, "I thought about doin' that constantly, drove me insane." He could feel the blood rushing to his cock again, wondering how it was possible to want somebody this badly.

You hummed as you ran your hands up and down his torso, reaching up to finally plant a kiss on that heart shaped patch of skin in his beard, his hand dropping from your face to grip your upper arm, and another roll of thunder echoed through the house.

"Here are those reports you asked for, Mr. Miller," you whispered, leaving a trail of kisses down his neck, the low groan in his throat vibrating against your lips. You were already soaking through your underwear again, sighing as you turned your head to press small kisses on the other side of his neck. "Is there anything else I can do for you today?"

"Yeah," he growled, his grip on your arm tightening. "Get on your fuckin' knees and suck me off while I hop on this conference call."

He felt the smile tug across your lips against his throat, reaching down to palm his impossibly hard cock over his jeans.

"Whatever you need, sir," you murmured. You pulled away and sunk to your knees on the floor, placing your hand over his belt when you froze. You thought you heard a shout outside, but it was hard to tell through the thunderstorm. You frowned, looking up at Joel to see if he heard it too, but he was already looking through the kitchen and past the living room out the front window, his eyes widening, then ducked down behind the kitchen island where you were already squatting.

"Shit," he whispered, peering one eye around the corner of the island to look out the window. He saw at least four men carrying rifles and shotguns, shouting to each other over the rain, kicking the door in across the street and waving their arms, motioning for two more men to follow, as they ran inside the empty house to get out of the storm.

"How many?" You whispered, even though you knew they couldn't possibly hear you.

"Six, maybe more," he said through clenched teeth. Once he was sure they were all inside the house, he turned back to you. "We gotta be quick. Grab our packs and coats, I'll go get our weapons and we gotta sneak out the back," he told you, jutting his chin towards the mud room door off the kitchen. "Once this storm lets up, they'll come back out." He saw the look in your eye, and he put a stop to it before you could even say anything.

"There's too many, we can't take 'em sweetheart, I'm sorry." He knew you didn't want to leave, but you both knew this day would come sooner or later. "Now, c'mon, go get our stuff, stay as low as you can so they don't see you in the windows."

You turned away from him and army crawled along the kitchen floor into the den, slowly pulling each of your backpacks towards you, staying below the windows in the room that faced the street. You slung yours over your back and hooked his around your wrist as you turned back, still flat on the floor, and pulled yourself back into the kitchen, shoving his pack near the back door and shrugging yours off to leave next to his. You noticed the door leading to the garage was cracked, and you heard Joel rummaging in the garage for your weapons. Lucky for him, there were no windows to avoid in there.

You continued to crawl towards the living room where you saw your coats draped over the arm of the couch, pulling them down slowly, thankful the rain was coming down so hard now that it was making it difficult to see outside.

By the time you made it back into the kitchen, he was already waiting behind the island with your weapons in hand. You tossed him his jacket and shimmied yours on, zipping it up before pulling your pack back on, now sitting behind the island with him.

"I just repacked these this morning while you were out," you whispered as he pulled his backpack on. "Whatever we're missing, we can get along the way." He nodded, handing you your bow and handgun, while he shouldered his rifle and slipped his revolver into the back of his jeans.

"You ready?" He asked, meeting your gaze. You nodded, trying to hold back your emotions, knowing it was stupid to get attached to a house. He reached his hand out to cup your jaw, knowing what you were thinking without having to say it. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours quickly, then dropped his hand to crouch along the kitchen floor, motioning for you to follow him through the mud room and out the back.

Under the cover of the sheets of rain and neighboring houses, you followed Joel through the backyard and towards the woods surrounding your little sanctuary, throwing one last look over your shoulder, committing the image of the white house with blue shutters to your memory before turning back and facing the dense forest ahead.

Chapter Fifteen

Tag list: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us game #the way we were joel miller fic

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kaydenverse · 2 years ago

Text

paperwork

ghost x reader x soap

18+ MINORS DNI

genre: smut with a little bit of fluff

word count: little over 3k

a/n: this is my first smut in at least a year or so but i thought of this out of nowhere and cause there’s so few polyam ghostsoap fics i’m now obligated to write it. this is also my first time posting like a longer writing on here so apologies if it looks weird? also i did get a bit lazy with the end ngl, my bad. lower case is intended.

this is a gender neutral fic, they/them pronouns are used and there’s no specification of genitalia!

the readers call sign is “halo” and they’re a very skilled sniper on the task force.

content warnings: there’s plot to this? i think?, just filth for majority of this tbh, there’s a bits of tooth rotting fluff throughout tho, lots of pet names, degradation like a lot tbh but there’s praise sprinkled in, established polyam relationship, i believe in switch ghost and switch soap supremacy, edging, overstimulation, spit, begging, mask kink if you squint, all three of you are whipped BAD, uhh i think that’s all enjoy!

you would like to say you don’t know how you got here but then you’d be lying.

you know damn well that it’s both yours and johnny’s brattiness that’s got you here and you’re glad as hell it did if you’re being truthful.

first, there’s johnny.

he’s laid propped up with his back against the headboard of the bed in nothing but his blue boxer briefs and his hands gripping the sheets as he tries his absolute best not to touch you.

then there’s you who’s on your knees in between johnny’s legs that are bent in front of him and spread to make room for you. your cheek is squish against the scottish man’s lower abdomen due to simon having both your wrists pinned to your lower back and your ass propped up.

now, simon, he’s behind you staring dead into johnny’s eyes as he rolls his hips ever so slowly into yours. the teasing pace draws a pathetic whine out of you and johnny’s face flushes at the sound.

as much as johnny wants to touch you, he keeps his hands to himself and stares right back at simon through that skull mask of his as if you weren’t even there drooling like a cock-drunk idiot all over his stomach.

“i’m impressed, mctavish,” simon’s voice sounds strained as if he’s fighting off a moan. “thought you’d touch them by now.”

and johnny does want to touch you. in fact, he wants to touch you so badly he could cry. but, he’s trying to prove to simon that he can listen, that he can be good.

johnny doesn’t attempt to hide his desperation though because he knows both you and simon would see right through him. you both know him too well for him to try that.

“you gave me orders, l.t., i'm just followin’ them.” the words sound breathless leaving johnny and he can’t bring himself to care much. simon’s mask is pushed up to the bridge of his nose so johnny has a clear view of the smirk that stretches across his face.

“what a good boy, hm?” simon leans down and kisses up your spine. the kiss he gives the scar on your right shoulder you’d gotten on a mission a while back is noticeably a tad longer than the other kisses. “he’s being such a good boy, isn’t he, sweetheart?” you yelp a little when he bites down on your shoulder. a part of you wishes he’d bite hard enough to draw just a little blood.

that’d really drive you wild.

you whine, wiggling your ass desperately in an attempt you try to get him to start fucking into you again. “please, please simon, i’m so close-“

“i asked you-“ simon slid out of you completely, leaving you empty and coming down from your high yet again. “a fuckin’ question, didn’t i, doll?” now you’re the one who wants to cry.

“yes, good! he’s being so good!” you whine in frustration, looking up at johnny with the most desperate look he’s ever seen you give him. he wants to feel bad, he really does, but watching you nearly burst into tears after simon has been edging you for a full half hour has him far too excited.

“he’s being better than you at following orders right now, ” he shrugs as he lightly skates his fingers up your spine. “a first.” the taunt in his voice makes you clench around nothing.

if you weren’t so scatterbrained right now you would’ve bantered right back at him but, alas, there’s nothing going on in that pretty little head of yours except desperation and the need to cum.

johnny just now realizes how hard he’s breathing as well as the fact that if simon keeps this up he’ll come without being properly touched. it’s not helping that you’re squirming, almost frantically, right over johnny’s crotch. ghost lets out a laugh at the pleading look soap tosses him.

“now maybe if you two weren’t such brats i wouldn’t have to teach you lessons like this.”

the three of you had gathered in ghost’s office on your lunch breaks just to be around each other for a bit since each of you were busy doing your own paperwork that needed to be done. you and soap sat in the cushioned chairs facing his desk and you all munched away on your sandwiches.

soap did most of the talking and you commented here while ghost just listened. soap can never stick to one topic for long before he’s onto something else but you don’t mind, neither does ghost. you find it cute in all honesty. you’re both his favorite listeners.

you would’ve lost track of time while intensely listening to soap ramble on if ghost hadn’t glanced at the tiny clock in the corner of his computer screen.

“apologies on interrupting your rant of your least favorite lunch meats,” no one else but you and soap could’ve caught the playfulness hidden beneath ghost’s deadpan sounding words. “but it is time for you two to return to your jobs and not bother me anymore.”

soap groans and you slouch in your chair, also making a mental note of johnny’s passionate dislike for processed ham. “paperwork is boring though, ghost.” you give a poor attempt of pouting at him. “and you love when we bother you.” a true statement.

“boring or not you still have to do it, halo.” ghost leans back in his chair and hums, tugging his mask back down over the lower half of his face. he rests his arm back on the armrest, mirroring his other arm, and his legs are slightly spread.

what a sight.

you don’t even have to look over at soap to know his thinking the exact same thing. for a split second, both of you also think how you’ve scored one of the hottest men alive.

like, seriously.

wow.

“and same applies to you too, soap.” ghost says before the scot could say anything. the small tilt of ghost’s head simply makes him all the more attractive.

soap groans again but still stands up and stretches a little. “i guess we should get going and do our work.” he laughs softly and you stand up as well. “it would be nicer to be doing you though.” he winks at the lieutenant.

the joke is so corny you can’t help but laugh a little. but still, he’s speaking both of your truths.

“get going and i’ll consider letting you do so later.” ghost is quick to reply but he keeps his expression unreadable. he watches both sets of his partners eyes light up and shakes his head. “always need to be rewarded, can’t go a day without it.” he tuts loudly so you both hear his teasing and his shake is head.

“i will have it finished and on your desk within an hour, sir.” soap grins, leaning across the desk to press a kiss over ghost’s mask where his mouth would be. you follow suit and ghost’s heart nearly bursts at the gesture. he won’t ever tell either of you that

but he doesn’t need to, you both know already. you know him.

“i’ll have mine in 45.” you challenge and grin. soap rolls his eyes as he turns towards you, cupping your face in one hand.

“oh, you’re on.” soap smirks at you before kissing you gently. you don’t let him pull back, though. when he does try to pull back you chase after his lips and kiss him again. this only happens twice before the soft whine you let out helps soap catch onto your silly little plan.

he keeps his lips on yours and cups your other cheek while your hands go to his hips, thumbs digging into them just the way he likes. you let him nudge you backwards so you’re sat on the edge of ghost’s desk with your back to the masked man.

you both just go at it, for lack of better words.

ghost just watches. he makes no sounds and keeps his reaction hidden exceptionally well. the only time he moves is to catch the pencil holder you nearly knock over when shoving a hand onto the desk to keep soap from knocking you over with the force of his kisses.

ghost straights the pencil holder, slotting a pen that fell out of the container back in before he finally speaks. “paperwork. get on it. now.”

you two fly apart like you’ve been caught, like ghost hadn’t just be sitting directly behind his very misbehaved partners kissing intensely for a full three minutes.

“yes, sir.”

“i’m on it, l.t.”

“what? now you wanna give me puppy eyes and beg? now you feel sorry for what you started?” the stare simon gives johnny almost makes the scot nearly moan, “or maybe i should place the blame on you?” he leans back down and rests his chin on your shoulder, “i mean,” his voice drops an octave or two as he plants a kiss behind your ear. “you are the one who started up that little stunt. johnny was just being a good boy and following along.”

now, both you and johnny know the ‘no one is allowed to cum until i say’ rule is in place at the moment but my god, was simon making it incredibly difficult just from his words alone. degradation with just the lightest sprinkle of praise gets you and soap ecstatic and simon takes full advantage of that constantly.

“ooh you’re so worked up, si. glad my plan worked.” you’ve finally pieced enough of your brain back together to smart mouth again.

johnny almost shakes his head at you, almost tells you ‘now we’re really in for it.’ but simon is quick to manhandle you onto your back and latch a hand around your throat. johnny whines from the pressure of your back against his clothed, leaking cock and you whine from the pressure simon puts on your throat. a shameless moan rips from you when simon gives a little squeeze.

simon leans in close to your face, giving you a stare that could kill. “were you just that desperate for me to fuck you that you have to go around plotting stupid little fuckin’ schemes for it to happen, hm? need me to fuck you as a reward for everything? must want me to if you had to come up with a plan to make sure it’d happen.”

and just like that, you’re gone again. every single thought being replaced by one’s of simon and johnny, nothing more.

your whole body jerks when simon’s free hand reaches back down between your legs and he uses his middle and ring finger to slowly trace over your hole, both to tease you and as a subtle way of checking that you’ve still got enough wetness to take him again. of course you’d still have enough though, he’s got you so worked up you’re shaking and johnny has tears of desperation starting to prick at his eyes.

“open.” the hand around your throat moves up and his thumb taps your lips gently. you obliged and simon leans down and spits directly into your mouth. you swallow with no hesitation.

johnny’s hips immediately buck up against your back at the sight, “fucks sake.” he breathes out and drops his head back to look at the ceiling.

“eyes on me, sargent.” simon almost growls. johnny hesitates for a second before looking back down at the two of you. it takes everything in john “soap” mctavish's body to not cum on the spot.

ghost has let you sit up a little and leave various hickies and bite marks along his chest. he’s let his guard down just a little and johnny already knows what he’s gonna ask. “i’m good.” he breathes.

“same.” you murmur as you bite down on that spot on simon’s neck that always makes him groan. with that, as quick as the soft moment came, it’s gone again and simon presses two fingers into you. “simon!” you’re caught off guard and whine.

“they’re so fuckin’ wet.” simon hums to johnny who smiles a little. you love it when they talk about you like you’re not even there.

“i bet,” johnny almost reaches out to pet the top of your head but immediately stops upon the warning look simon gives him. it takes simon all but two minutes before you’re whining and bucking your hips the way you do just before you cum.

this time, a tear or two does slide down your face when simon’s fingers leave you empty again. you want to beg, to plead with the lieutenant but all you do is pant and shake. “so pretty.” simon pats your right cheek twice, making sure to smear some of your wetness on your cheek. johnny chuckles when you toss simon a very annoyed glare.

“please.” you manage. the wrecked tone you say it in actually works and simon sits up, tugging you a tad closer to him, so your upper back is pressed right against johnny’s bulge. the movement makes johnny groan again but simon ignores him. why does johnny find simon ignoring him right now so hot?

“since you asked so nicely, darling,” simon hums, finally sliding himself back into you. johnny isn’t sure if he’d rather be in your position or simon’s as he watches simon pick up the pace, fucking into you fast and hard.

you’re falling apart and falling apart fast. you’re moaning, whining, whimpering, just the full show. you should be embarrassed at how quickly you approach your release (four minutes. still better than johnny’s record of about 25 seconds one time.) but it’s been ripped away from you so many times in the past 45 minutes you don’t care in the slightest. when simon shifts his angle just right and nudges into that perfect spot, you know you’re done for.

“can i,” you pant, clawing at simon’s bicep and squirming back against johnny who looks like he’s about to lose it. “please, sir.”

now you knew, you knew, what that title does to him in moments like this. it’s near impossible for him to not want to give you everything and more when you pathetically beg him like that.

“fuck, yes, go ahead let go for me.”

simon barely gets all the words out before you’re arching up into him and your orgasm hits you like a fucking bus. you’re swearing up a storm, simon and johnny’s names mixed in as well.

behind you, johnny is not-so-subtly rutting against your upper-back. simon glares up at johnny for breaking his order to stay but that look, that glare, that’s what has johnny smacking face first into his high only moments after yours. simon should’ve known that would happen.

johnny’s hands fly into your hair and he grabs which punches a high pitched whimper from your chest.

simon just knows he’s going to think about this exact moment frequently for the rest of his life.

simon stills his hips and sits up back on his haunches he watches you make a mess around his cock and johnny make a mess of his briefs behind you.

“where’s my thank you, darling?” simon hums as he slowly drags his hands up your sides. the touch is overwhelming but a good kind of overwhelming.

“th- oh god,” you breathe out when he pinches one of your nipples. “thank you.” you feel boneless under simon as he hums happily at your response. you can feel johnny panting behind you as well as the sticky wetness of his release on your upper back.

“johnny boy lost.” you giggle lightly after a minute or two of catching your breath and putting your brain back together. you tilted your head back to look up at said johnny boy behind you. he’s got a blush that’s spreading down to his shoulder making the freckles that dot them stick out even more.

johnny is staring up at the ceiling and his entire body is buzzing. “uh-huh,” is all he can think to say to which you and simon smile at. you swear your heart skips a beat when you catch a glimpse of simon’s dimples.

simon leans over you and presses a kiss onto the center of johnny’s chest. “hey, i wanna kiss him.” you grumbled and nudged at simon to get off (and out) of you. simon plants a quick kiss on your lips before completing your request. you flip over and you’re on johnny in a second, the both of you smiling and laughing into each other’s mouths.

simon just contently watches for a few moments before tapping your hip. “oi, my turn.” he doesn’t mean for that to come out so playful, wanting to keep up the tough guy act right now, but he can’t help it. you roll onto your side next to johnny. johnny waves simon over and pats his thighs. simon shuffles forward and straddles the other man’s hips.

johnny looks so small with simon seated in his lap despite them being near the same height. the scottish man has to tilt his head up to get a proper look at his boyfriend’s partially masked face.

“you’re so pretty, baby.” johnny’s accent sounds thick as he presses a kiss to simon’s throat. simon only hums, a little worried that if he spoke he’d sound whiny. “take care of me and our lovely darling so well.” he wraps his arms around the lieutenant and plants more kisses around his collarbone.

you watch that switch in simon’s mind flip and he’s suddenly all mush in johnny’s hold, a soft whine slipping from his lips when johnny bites over one of the hickies you had left on him.

only you and johnny know how to flip that switch.

simon is only ever this vulnerable and relaxed around you two. his two. soap and halo, johnny and you. you’re the only two who can just make him melt on command. just piece the right words together in that gentle tone of either of yours and he’s done for, down for the count. he’s just ready to do anything either of you ask. that makes you smile as you watch them.

simon leans down and kisses johnny before any further praises are said. johnny immediately rocks his hips into simon’s and they moan into each others mouths. they start off a little slow but it doesn’t take long before they’re both desperate and rutting against each other like their lives depend on it.

you’re perfectly content just watching them fall apart against each other, soft groans and hushed praises filling the room.

you love it.

you love them.

crazy that your distressing, life-risking job has led you to the most perfect people you could’ve ever imagined.

you’re pulled back out of your thoughts when simon lets out the prettiest whine as he cums onto johnny’s stomach and his own. johnny had gotten riled up again and was shaking through his second orgasm.

you roll over to the bedside dresser and fetch a washcloth out of the drawer. johnny takes it and gently wiped off the both of them and tries to wipe you off but with a 6’4” soldier dramatically slumped against him in his lap it’s not the easiest.

“such a baby.” you snort at simon and take the towel from him instead so you can wipe yourself down. simon, affectionally, flashes his middle finger at you before he finally rolls off of johnny and squishes himself between the two of you.

the three of you lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes, basking in each other’s presence and getting comfortable cuddled together. you’re the first to speak again, “you know, i don’t think i deserved to be edged that long.” you flip onto your stomach as you look over at them.

“oh you’ve handled longer, don’t complain.” simon teases and he’s right. just a month or so ago johnny had you in tears after a full hour of denial and simon just watched from a seat in the corner of the room. johnny laughs in agreement.

“and you love it so now you really can’t complain.” johnny grins when you flip him off. simon snorts and tugs his mask all the way back down.

“are you not hot right now, mate?” soap taps the cheek of ghosts mask.

“i am.”

“then why didn’t you take it off?”

“cause you’ve both got a thing for it, especially you, sweetheart.” ghost nods towards you. well…he’s got you both there.

“well, you’ve got a thing for my accent.” johnny defends himself.

“and my hands.” you hum, drumming your fingers on simon’s bare chest. simon doesn’t bother to defend himself because you’re both right.

you prop yourself up on your elbows. “hey, how come he got off so easy?” you huff. johnny had only been instructed to keep his hands to himself and stay still. he ended up breaking both those rules in the end

“cause he turned his papers in at the time he promised. one hour. you took, two hours to finish yours.”

“i got distracted!”

“distracted by what exactly?”

“…thinking about you and johnny…”

“typical.”

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