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s1ckh1mb0 · 21 days

Note

can u make a part 2 to ur logan fic? maybe reader gives in and sucks logan off?

I apologize ahead of time for the man I became while writing this second part🩷

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You shook my head and tried to turn away from him. The same power imbalance you two usually had. Always fighting back and forth for who was the better mutant. This time Logan wasn’t going to let you win in the slightest. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"No. Fucking look at me.”

He commanded, his eyes filled with intensity.

"I want you to see who's doing this to you.”

He pushed his pants down, his hard dick brushing against your thighs, leaving a stick mess.

"I told you to leave and your stupid ass didn't listen. this is your fault. you brought this upon yourself."

"No, fuck Logan. s' isn't right. This is against the rules, what if someone hears?”

He ignores your protests, lining himself up with your ass.

"It's exactly right. You should have listened when I told you to fuck off the first time.”

He let spit on to his dick before pushing inside you, not gentle, not caring about your fake protest. If you wanted to you could easily push him off, he’s not stupid and he knows you wanted this but didn’t want to admit. He just fucks you hard and fast, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He told you to leave for a reason. He was starting his rut and being around basically anyone made him want to pounce of them.

"This is what you get for not listening.

Your eyes rolled back as you groaned. Your right leg thrown over his shoulder, his hand gripping you face so you had to look at him. He smirks at the sound of your pleasure, his thrusts becoming more forceful. His hand leaves your face to grip the headboard, his nails digging into the wood as he pounds into you.

"You like that?”

He asks, his voice low and husky.

"You like it rough?

"Fuck! yes, oh my god Logan."

Your arm wrapped around his neck as you pulled him closer to you. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear.

"Good. Because I'm not done yet.”

He continues to fuck you hard, his claws extending and digging into the mattress on either side of your head.

"I'm going to fucking ruin you.”

He snarls, his hips slamming against yours. The other mutants were going to hate him later for the sound his headboard slamming against the wall so hard repeatedly, but he didn't give a fuck. His rut was way more important to him than them and with how good you felt they could kiss his ass if they thought he was going to be quiet for them. Your nails were digging into his skin as he thrusted into you repeatedly, crying out his name right into his ear. The sound of your cries and the slamming of the headboard against the wall are music to his ears. He fucks you even harder, his claws digging deeper into the mattress as he loses control.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

He roars, his hips pistoning in and out of you at a brutal pace. Your hair was splayed out over his bed. a small bulge in your lower tummy from where his cock was hitting. He looks down to see the bulge in your lower stomach and grins, his cock throbbing as he continues to fuck you hard.

"That's right, baby. Take it all."

He growls, his claws his claws gripping the mattress even tighter as he thrusts into you harder and faster. Your dick was leaking over both of your stomachs, making a sticky mess. it felt like the air was being knocked out your chest which each deep thrust.

"Logan!"

The sound of your cries and the sticky mess on your stomach only fuels him more. He drives his cock into you harder, groaning in pleasure as he takes what he wants.

"Goddammit. Yeah. Take it!”

You were much different than the other mutants he's fucked, you were a fucking freak. matching his energy completely. He would have to hold back with other people, his strength sometimes getting out of control. But you were just as fucked as he was and he was eating that shit up.

"harder. fucking harder Logan."

He grins wickedly, his hips snapping forward with brutal force.

"You can take it.”

He hisses, his teeth bared.

"You wanted more, didn't you?"

He pounds into you mercilessly, his claws shredding the mattress

"Beg for it.”

You gripped his collar and pulled his face towards yours.

"I swear to god you better fuck me like you god damn mean it Logan I’ll go find another man to fucking do it."

His eyes flash with feral hunger at your demand. He snarls and bites down on your lips, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you with a frenzy he's never shown before. The bedframe cracks under the force of his thrusts, and the headboard crashes to the floor. You couldn’t care less about the bed breaking under you two. You wrapped your legs around his waist refusing to let him stop yet. He grunted in approval, his arms wrapping around your waist as he continues to pound into you.

"That's right. Hold on tight.”

He breathed heavily against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"I'm not finished with you yet.”

"More, please Logan."

His answer was to grab your ankles and pull your legs up even higher, changing the angle of his thrusts. The new position allows him to hit even deeper, his cock slamming against your prostate with relentless force.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight!"

He roars, his voice echoing through the room. Your knees were basically pressed against your chest. each thrust hitting deep inside you. Your and his pecs pressed against once other. one of your arms wrapped around his neck as you repeatedly moaned his ear. He grinned darkly, his hips bucking against yours as he continues to stretch you wide.

"You like that? You like me splitting you open?"

He hisses, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to draw blood.

"Say it."

"Fuck yes, make it hurt."

He growls low in his throat, his pace quickening as he spreads your legs even wider.

"That's my good little whore.”

He praises harshly, his voice hoarse with exertion.

"You can take more, can't you?

"Yes, yes I can take it."

“Gonna fucking cum, you’re gonna take this shit aren’t you baby? Let me hear you.”

His hand moved to the back of your neck, wrapping around and pushing your forehead against his. Both you letting a moan as you came together, him inside you and you all over you guys stomach.

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the-californicationist · 6 months

Note

Hey🐻❤ Can i say something ? Yeah ? Sooo

Price and Reader have sex in an abandoned parking lot after going to a bar🍻

That's all I had to say 🙇‍♀️❤

omg hot!!! hope this is kinda what you were looking for. im so sorry for the wait. thank you for being patient with me!

The After Party

The MacTavish wedding was the party of the century, and you were feeling the effects of their pricey Brut champagne. Your husband, John, had stolen a bottle for you, and you were nearly half-done with it, carefully pulling it up to your lips and letting the tiny bubbles pop on your tongue.

Even though it was almost dawn, the party was still raging inside the bar Johnny had rented out. John had taken you aside and whispered into your ear,

“C’mon. Have a smoke with me, missus.”

While the newlyweds were distracted by their guests, so you and the captain had made a break for it, sneaking out of the reception undetected. You smiled, following him out back into the parking lot, admiring his ass in those silky black slacks. He always looked so fit when he got dressed up, even if he hated every minute of it.

John headed to his truck, popping open the door and digging around for another cigar. You leaned against the tailgate, trying to find some relief for your aching feet. John noticed your discomfort,

“Those heels botherin’ you, love?”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“Here,” he helped you up onto his tailgate, sitting you on the cold metal, “Let’s sit for a while. Give me a chance to enjoy this.” He wiggled the fat cigar in his hands, smiling at you.

“Aren’t they gonna miss us?” You nodded to the bar, listening to the sound of muffled dance music coming from its bright, glowing windows.

“Ah, I’m sure the happy couple is plenty distracted.”

John hopped up on the tailgate with you, puffing on his cigar, making sure the tip was evenly lit. When he was happy with it, he offered it to you. You took it, sucking the smoke into your mouth and tasting its sweet tobacco and vanilla notes. It was a huge cigar, so too much of it and you’d really be wasted. The champagne was already enough to make your cheeks hot.

You closed your eyes, trying to sober up a bit. John’s hand rubbed your bare back, fiddling with the straps of your low-cut dress as he fussed over you.

“Is my girl a little bevied up tonight? Maybe I should take that bottle back,” he laughed at you, teasing you good-naturedly.

“No,” you clutched the bottle like a prize, playing with him, “Pry it out of my cold, dead hands, mister.”

He held his hands up in mock-surrender,

“Alright, alright. Just don’t blame me when you get into trouble.”

“What trouble?” You took his cigar from him again and purposefully took a long drag, challenging him, trying to goad him into flirting with you.

He fell into your trap, chuckling as he took one of his fingers and traced his way from your sparkling gold necklace all the way down into the cleavage of your dress, making you gasp,

“You know what trouble,” he leaned in for a smoky kiss, stealing his stick back, “My woman, dressed like that, gettin’ sloshed on champagne… I know where this path leads.”

“Oh?” You giggled, running your palm across his heavy thigh, feeling his muscles through the expensive cloth, “Where’s that?”

“I’ll show you.” He raised his eyebrows, getting a little smart with you, and hopped off of the tailgate. He stood in front of you, cigar bitten in his mouth, and used both of his hands to pull you closer to him, forcing your legs apart to accommodate his wide body.

You giggled, letting yourself be man-handled, enjoying every moment of it.

Then, he reached both of his warm hands up under the glittering hem of your dress, tracing up your legs, feeling their shaved smoothness, until he found your hips. John smiled, balancing the cigar expertly on his lips, enjoying the surprised look on your face. His fingers twirled around the straps of your thong, and he pulled it off of you, guiding it over your knees and past your strappy heels, admiring the gold lace that filled his palm.

He brought the panties to his nose and dodged your half-hearted kick as you admonished him,

“John!”

“What?” He was incredulous, “I know this smell.”

He had the audacity to sniff them again, and you smacked him on his chest, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him react. John smiled, recoiling, teasing you,

“Smells like sloshed, horny wife, so it does. Mmm.”

“Oh, my God! What if someone saw you?” You hissed, laughing in pure shock at your husband’s actions.

“And?” He put on a serious face for you then, pocketing your panties, spreading your legs, and tucking his body between them again, getting right up in your face and taking a long pull from his cigar, letting the smoke linger between you, cascading down his full lip. He snarled, “Who’s gonna stop me? Did you see any bloke in there bigger than me? Stronger, hm?”

You shook your head, feeling your heart race with excitement at his sudden dominance. Even if you knew he was just trying to get you riled up, it was working.

“Did you see anyone who would have the bollocks to stop me from touching my woman…” His hands were wandering, rubbing your smooth thigh up and down, pulling on the tight muscle of your calf, “Whenever, or wherever I want?”

You shook your head again, biting your lip, leaning back into the bed of the truck, letting your breasts lift towards his face, taunting him with your skin.

He took one of your shoulder straps and pulled it down, letting it dangle across your arm. As it did, the top of its delicate fabric triangle folded, lower and lower, until the top of your breast was exposed, falling almost as low as your nipple.

His eyes narrowed, giving you a hard stare,

“Give me your hand, missus.”

You held out your hand, palm up, submitting to his whim.

He took it in his and pulled you forward, lowering your arm until your fingers felt the rigid marble cock he was concealing behind his zipper. John pressed your palm on him, flexing his muscle for you, letting you feel his desire.

You were leaning so far over that his face was right by your ear, and he whispered to you, menacingly,

“If I wanted to, I’d have taken you in that bar, and there’s not a fuckin’ man alive who could stop me.”

“So,” you said, staring him down, showing him your fearless hunger, “Take me, then.”

It was his turn to wear a mask of surprise on his face, but it quickly turned to joy. He hopped up into the truck bed with you and pulled you inside, lifting the tailgate closed with a loud slam.

John kept a thick blanket in the truck bed for emergencies, and he folded it up, laying you down on it, making sure you were comfortable. He kissed your neck, but he wasted no time in peeling down the top of your dress, exposing your nipples to the night air. You took the cigar from him so he could suckle on your flesh, leaving little hickies where he wanted to, something for you to admire later.

You smoked his cigar, letting it get you high as your husband fondled you. His mouth was hot and greedy, and you realized John was a little more worked up than you had previously assumed. You could feel him thrusting against you absentmindedly, not realizing he was doing it, rubbing himself against your beaded gown.

You caught his furry jaw in your hands, pulling him away from his delicious work, dragging him up to kiss your mouth. You shared his smoke between you, letting it fill your senses. You’d take a drag in, share it with him, letting it fall into his lips, and then kiss him through it, tasting each other among the warm notes.

“John,” you whispered between his wet kisses, “I need you.”

“Need to work up to it, love. Don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispered, rucking up your dress.

You smiled, knowing he would realize the truth in just a moment. Indeed, as soon as you felt his fingertips dip into your pussy, his eyes shot up in shock and wonder. He breathed in a gasp, dipping his finger into you again, not believing what he was feeling,

“You are so wet for me. Naughty girl. So ready for your man’s cock, hm?”

“I told you,” you kissed him, feeling his finger sink deeper inside of you, drowning in you, “I’m ready for you, John. Don’t make me wait.”

He brought his hand to his mouth and sucked you off of his skin. Then, he went back for seconds, dipping his forefinger into you like you were the batter of a cake, sugary sweet and forbidden.

Then, once he had his fill of your taste, he fumbled with his slacks, raking his black leather belt off in one long pull, letting it clatter somewhere in the metal bed of the truck. His fingers pried open his button and yanked down his zipper, freeing his fat rod and jerking it with his hand.

Unceremoniously, and in a bit of a rush, he mounted you, rucking up your dress even further. You spread yourself for him, wrapping your legs around his strong glutes, feeling them squeeze together to help him thrust into your hungry core.

It was a tight fit, as usual. John was always so heavy and thick; you had a hard time working up to his size. But, you took a deep breath and let your wetness glide him in. His ragged sigh of relief was intoxicating.

“Oh, bloody hell, missus.” He furrowed his brow as if in pain.

“You alright, John?” You tried to relax, but you could feel your body responding without you, pulsing around him with a warm, eagerness.

“You’re warm, baby. Just what I needed. So fuckin’ good to me.”

He ducked his head into the crook of your neck and began to thrust into you, deeper and deeper until he found his end. In the back of your mind, as you gazed up at the sparkling stars, you hoped no one could hear you, but your husband’s earlier dominance made you care a little less. And as he built you up to a frothing orgasm, you found yourself caring not at all.

Suddenly, the music from the bar got louder, and you heard the door slam closed to the bar. John stilled above you, covering you with his body, watching over his shoulder for someone to come by. Your heart was beating hard in your chest, and you gave his cock a squeeze from inside of you, pulling at his shaft with your muscle. He looked down at you, smiling, and gave you a quick pulse in return, teasing you. Both of you were clearly excited about the prospect of being caught.

Footsteps made their way through the gravel lot, the loud jingle of keys, a door opening and slamming shut. Then, their engine revved and they pulled away, leaving you alone again.

“Filthy little thing,” John whispered, picking up his pace again, “Squeezin’ me like that. You tryin’ to get caught, missus?”

“Just wanna make you feel good, John. Want to feel you come in me.”

“Christ,” he lamented, clenching his teeth and fucking you faster, obviously heated by your words and your wet, sticky desire, “Squeeze me again, then. Yeah… ungh… just like that. Keep doin’ that, pretty girl. You’ll get your wish.”

When he thrust into you, you tried to relax, letting his cock slip inside. Then, when he tried to leave, you twisted your muscles against him, pulling him in, trying to milk his come from his swollen head. It was driving him wild. His eyes fluttered, rolling back into his head as he thrust into you, harder and harder, chasing down your orgasm with a vengeance.

He put his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself, growling at you through clenched teeth,

“Suck.”

You grabbed his hand with both of yours, feeling your tits bouncing as he fucked you, holding his fingers in your mouth, and you began to suckle on them dutifully. You could smell and taste your scent, and it was making you feral. You let your tongue loll between his fingers, sucking hard on his sensitive tips, watching his face as his jaw fell slack.

Then, he pulled them away from you and used them to rub against your clit, one finger on either side, making tight circles and teasing you until your legs began to shake.

“Holy fuck,” he said, watching you fall apart, “Such a good girl for me, aren’t ya? Gonna come on me, baby?”

You nodded, plucking at your nipples, squeezing your breasts as they shook from his thrusting.

“Good girl. Come on me. Let me feel it.”

You felt your body go rigid as the bright, flashing pleasure coiled its way into your belly, and you couldn’t help but let out a deep moan. Quick as a flash, John kissed you, letting you moan into his mouth instead of into the night air, quieting you as you exploded underneath him, shamelessly bucking against his hard length as you rode out your pleasure.

He kept kissing you, sucking at your tongue and bottom lip, talking to you through your bliss,

“That’s it. Just what I needed, pretty girl. Love this fuckin’ pussy.”

“I love you, John,” you said, suddenly overwhelmed with your emotions and the deep sensations he was giving you.

It caught him off-guard, and he smiled from it,

“I love you too, baby. You ready for me, hm?”

You nodded, whispering a yes into his neck. He looked at you with a pleading expression,

“Tell me.”

“I need your come, John. Come in me. Fill me up, please. I want you to come in my pussy. I want it running down my legs.”

“Oh, fuck!” He raised his voice just for a moment, but you didn’t care.

As you watched him tumble into his orgasm, shuddering between your legs, nothing would distract you from that gorgeous scene. His face twisted and then relaxed, exhausted from his efforts, a half-smile painted on his lips.

He looked down at you in surprise, breathing heavy and recovering. He slid himself out of you, leaving you with a terrible emptiness. You felt his cream drip from your body, and he wiped his cock on your thigh before he tucked himself back into his dress pants.

John collapsed next to you in the truck bed, staring up at the stars for the first time, resting his head on your breast.

You were wrecked, and you pet his hair, softly soothing yourself with him.

He looked up at you, that playfulness returning to his eyes,

“Runnin’ down your legs, hm?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes,

“Yeah, so? You seemed to like the idea, mister.”

“I do,” he kissed your breast and took your nipple into his mouth, watching you squirm from being overstimulated, “In fact, I think it’s a good idea.”

“You’re not serious,” you gasped.

“C’mon. No one’ll notice.”

He sat up, checked the surroundings to make sure the coast was clear and then helped you up. He lowered the tailgate and helped you stand. Your feet still ached in your shoes, and you had to catch yourself on his strong arm. He steadied you, making sure you were alright before he grabbed your hand and led you back inside.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this, John,” you felt your cheeks blush bright red.

“Be brave, missus. I’ll make it worth your while later.”

His face suggested more of his dirty fun, and you nodded, crossing your fingers no one looked at you too closely.

Luckily, no one had noticed your absence. John helped you into a booth and ordered two more glasses of champagne, sliding into the seat beside you. All night, through the slit of your gown, he rubbed your leg, getting little drops of his come and playing with it on your skin, working you up and teasing you in front of all of your friends, secretly smearing his gift into your thigh.

All night, and during the drive home, you couldn’t keep his hands off of your legs. He kept playing with you, getting bolder and bolder by the minute. When you got into the house, he stripped you, leaving your gown abandoned on the kitchen floor, carrying you straight into the den and laying you on the couch, not even bothering to make it to the bedroom.

He had a burning look in his eye as he commanded you, taking off his clothes as he barked his orders,

“Spread your legs, missus. Let me see you. Wider.”

You did as you were told, your mind reeling from his threatening tone, eager to submit to him again.

“Mm. You are fuckin’ gorgeous covered in my come. It’s everywhere,” he stared at your pussy and your inner thighs with wonder, using his hands to feel the shining fluids coating your skin.

Then, to your shock, he bent to lick you clean, sucking on your folds and lapping at your wet hole, wriggling his tongue deeper and deeper, trying to eat himself out of you.

“John!” You gasped, “What are you — ungh, fuck!”

His fingers fucked you as he ate from you, swallowing what your body gave him, licking up his mess from your legs and lips like a hungry dog, ignoring your cries of protest.

“You want me to stop, missus?”

You shook your head, petting his scalp and scratching your fingers through it.

“Aye,” he grinned, “Didn’t think so. Hope you’re ready for round two.”

If you enjoyed this story, please consider a reblog! Thank you!!

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x you #call of duty #john price x female reader #captain john price x female reader #oh captain my captain #ohcaptainchallenge #it's captain season

356 notes · View notes

sugar-grigri · 3 months

Note

Yo! I wrote an analysis of 167 that you might be interested in. https://www.tumblr.com/lottimiqo/752646719530041344/when-are-people-going-to-start-noticing-that-denji

Thank you!!!!! I'm very flattered when people send me their analyses.

But I'd just like to make a few comments about what I've read!

It's vital to take each interpretation seriously, and I take yours seriously, as it explains Denji's initiative by analyzing his verbal behavior, which is a brilliant approach given that we're dealing with an almost silent chapter.

Just as you have to accept that I didn't read the chapter that way. And I think that our difference in reading can be explained by a crucial element, the fact that you rely on the second half of the chapter, deciding to base your analysis on a specific moment, whereas I always prefer to take a global view, sometimes even in an extreme way, by analyzing one chapter in relation to the others.

The 2 are equal, because a perfect understanding of an important moment is just as interesting when read as a whole. You'll prefer to clarify the analysis when I'll prefer to focus on the coherence of an entire work.

But to get back to the basics, there's something fundamental that I don't see taken into account very much in general: Denji doesn't know who he's kissing. What I mean is that even though the first kiss with Yoru was received positively and he undertook a second kiss, Denji thinks he has a relationship with Asa when he doesn't.

I know it's advisable to steer away from a literal reading when it comes to Asa / Yoru, and you're right to prefer a more metaphorical approach.

But even by a symbolic, metaphorical approach, the narrative consequence is completely different. For one wants to kill CSM, while the other wants to save him. Denji's embrace of the one who wishes to kill him is fundamentally strong in its contradiction. If it were Asa, the conclusion would be more logical and gentle.

Above all, you decide not to focus your analysis on the first part of the chapter, which I find fundamental. For the first chapter is expressly about Denji's desire to distance himself from his sexual appetite, and he has several non-verbal reactions.

Like placing his hand in front of his crotch!

Just as it's vital that the chapter opens with Denji wanting to mutilate himself, not wanting to see his limb severed, but also taken out in such a place, just as touched. In short, Denji expresses a clear desire at the beginning of the chapter not to suffer.

Just as Denji is anxious for the woman he thinks is Asa to see his dick, he's afraid of being mutilated. Intrusion and mutilation are placed on the same plane in this bubble.

Especially the first part gives a dimension of struggle between the two. The knife drops but Yoru violently grabs Denji's crotch. Yoru makes it explicit: I deny your feelings and the confrontation with CSM is all she's interested in.

I don't know if Denji really initiated the kiss. He's not bent over to do it, he's bent over because he's constantly hunched over and literally has his dick on borrowed time. The questioning around the kiss is on Yoru's side. For me, she's the one who initiates it.

She kisses him, pulls back abruptly as she realizes what she's done and looking back at Denji, feels like doing it again. She moves forward, backward and intensifies.

Just as we can analyze Denji's non-verbal behavior, his hands don't touch Yoru, he remains disturbed and overwhelmed by his sensations.

That's why, for me, this chapter is profoundly noisy in its silence, in its violence. Denji wants to get rid of his sexual appetite but he doesn't want to be mutilated, but Yoru decides to force him into his patterns. Just as it's when Denji is abused that Yoru remembers his kiss with him.

Because assaulting Denji pleases her. Perhaps because she has feelings for him through Asa, but also because she craves violence against Chainsaw Man.

The most logical conclusion to all this is sexual assault. A brutal compromise, reconciling hatred and unhealthy desire.

Denji never looks Yoru during the act, more often staring into space as if glued to the need to realize, but he's constantly caught short.

Denji is overwhelmed and his body no longer belongs to him. Yoru is hogging it. Just as Yoru is monopolizing Asa's.

Anyway, that's how I see it.

#ask #csm 167 #chainsaw man #csm #csm part 2 #denji #csm spoilers #asa #asa mitaka #yoru #thanks again for your analysis!!!#♥️

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javispunk · 1 year

Text

Care

Summary: You wanted to surprise Joel with something nice, but a few thieves got the best out of you. Joel was not happy about it, but tries his best to take care of you.

Pairing: Joel x fem!reader

Content/Warnings: Mention of robbery or assault, 18+ smut (somewhat filthy, nothing too crazy) (minors don’t interact!), fingering, unprotected sex, but also pure fluff, soft!joel but also angry!joel.

Notes: Hi! Please excuse any mistake, as english is not my first language! Please feel free to leave any requests you'd like me to write.

You wanted to tell him, you did, but you knew it would be best not to. Something went wrong at the marketplace. You wanted to sell somethings you had laying around your house for some rations and you managed to do it peacefully. On your way back home, two kids stopped you in the street, demanding your reward. You were reluctant at giving it to them, they would be good to both you but specially Joel, who had been a bit ill and extremely tired lately. You wanted to surprise him. But once the two guys held your arms with brut force between their fingers, you gave up. They let you go with a push, and you ended up facing down on the broken stone floor, resulting in a few scratches, barely open wounds, but still noticeable, stinging your skin every time you moved your face.

You continued your way back home, defeated, not by the scratches you now carried, but because you lost everything. You grabbed your keys and opened your front door carefully, trying not to wake Joel up. He was still peacefully sleeping on the bed. You got rid of your outside clothes, covering yourself with a loose t-shirt. You headed over to the bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. You had a few scratches in the right side of your face, beginning at the high of your cheekbone, ending on the low of your jawline. You opened the tap slowly and grabbed some cloth, wet it and tried to apply some to your face.

“Shit.” You said to yourself, as the stinging got worse. You repeated this process a few times, hoping to not make a lot of noise.

“Hey. You’re home.” You heard Joel behind you, still half asleep, as he rubbed his eyes with one hand. With his eyes still closed from sleep, he slid both his arms, one on each of your sides, wrapping them up and connecting them on your stomach. His cheek rested on top of your head, still sleepy and rocking you gently from side to side, like a slow dancing move.

You panicked. What if he looked straight into that mirror and noticed your face? It was nothing much, but you know he would not like it a tiny bit.

“I am.” You tried to disguise your nervousness with a half laugh. You also escaped his arms quickly, and headed to the kitchen, where you pretended to do something for both of you to eat.

“I ate earlier, you don’t have to make something for me sweetheart.” He assured you while following you through the house.

“I’m just super hungry.” You tried to avoid to look him in the face. But he grabbed you once again from behind, pressing his body weight on your back against the counter. His lips hovered your skin, resting on the nape of your neck where he placed a sleepy kiss. Then your shoulder and after that the side of your neck. It was hard for you to reject his touch, but you were scared he would see you.

“How do you always smell so good?” He asked, more to himself than to you, his mouth still in your neck.

“I shower, Joel. You should try it.” You tried nagging him about it.

“Hm, alright. Got the message.” He started running his hand down between your legs. “Wanna join me in there?”

“I can’t Joel”. Your mouth said something your body didn’t want. You turned your head to the side, so he would have more room to kiss your skin. Your hips slightly pushed to the back, hitting the slight bulge on his jeans. “I really should make us something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry baby. C’mon, I missed you. You’ve been gone all day.” He placed one of his hands inside your shirt, just below your stomach, and the other tried to look for the hem of your panties.

He sent shivers down your spine with every touch you traded. And sometimes you couldn’t run from it, neither wanted to. He’s gonna see it anyway, you thought to yourself. You rapidly put down the hand towel you were grabbing this whole time and turned around to face him, grabbing his neck to pull him closer to you.

You felt him smile into your kiss. “That’s my girl.” You felt his hands each on both your sides, lifting you up to sit you on the counter, you immediately wrapping your legs on his waist.

His left hand touched the base of your chest, going all the way up to the base of your neck, which he wrapped easily with his hand, applying some pressure. You sighed a little. Even moaned his name when he pushed you to him by the throat. His hand caressed, rather feverishly the right side of your face, holding it in place. And that is when you slightly hissed in pain. Too rapid and loud to be just a sign of pleasure.

“What’s wrong?” He asked immediately, trying to analyse your expression, trying to fully wake up from his sleepy haziness. You watched his eyes change as he noticed the slight redness on your face and the change of texture on your skin underneath his fingers. “What happened?” His body language changed completely, not moving an inch from you but analysing you with care. “What?” His voice sounded deeper than before.

You closed your eyes in search for the best words. “Joel…”

“What?” He repeated, reaching forward in your direction while raising his eyebrows.

“It’s nothing!”

“Who did this to you?” He asked, as his body tensed slightly.

“Joel… it’s fine, they were just some kids who thought they were funny, I don’t know-”

“I knew I should’ve gone with you. Why did you insist on going alone, sweetheart?”

You shut your eyes, in defeat. “I sold somethings I didn’t need, and I traded it for more rations for you. It was supposed to be a surprise, and now I have nothing.”

You felt him reach for you hand. “For me? Oh honey, that’s okay. You didn’t have to do that. I’ll just do more shifts over night to make up for it.” He assured you.

“More that those you already do?” You paused, looking him in the eye. “Absolutely not Joel. You’re always tired and your health’s taking a turn, I can see it.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers, sighing slowly.

“Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen.” You pleaded.

“But it did.” His voice got low again. “Seriously, who were they?” He continued asking, analysing the right side of your face.

“I have no idea, I’ve never really seem them around.” You continued, as you grabbed his hand again in yours. “I’m fine, Joel, honestly.” You shot him a smile.

He looked at you with worried eyes, hoping he would bump into these guys and beat them to death. Just the thought of someone hurting you in any way made his skin crawl in horror.

“You’re so stubborn.” He finally spoke. “Please.”

“Help me get them clean.” You gestured to your face. Something lit in his face, realising your request. He got up, sprinted to the bathroom to grab everything he needed. You got out of the kitchen counter and sat on your couch. He came back with wet warm cloths and some medicine to apply to your skin.

“No Joel, it doesn’t even hurt that bad. We are so low on those right now.” You spoke with alarm on your tone when you saw him sit next to you, holding the little package.

He shrugged your hand, getting it out of the way, as you tried to take it from him. “Stop. Let me help you.”

You eased as you looked into his eyes while he compressed wet cloths into your wounds. You’ve seen that face a hundred times but still analysed it with such care each time. His worried brow furrowed, meeting the top of his nose’s bridge. Your stare went down his lips once more, alternating it between them and his eyes every now and then. He’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and here he was, taking care of your scratches, barely visible. You rapidly connect your mouth to his, which took him by surprise. You felt him smile into your lips as he whispered a “okay, let me do this.” and reapplied the cloth to the side of your face.

Your hands pushed his own, guiding them to the sides of your body, as you climbed to his lap, one leg on each side. You were rough on your movements and the pressure you applied on his lap.

“Fuck.” You heard him groan into your open mouth. You continued kissing him, grabbing the back of his neck once more, hoping he would just indulge. “Are you okay?”

“I said I’m fine.” You barely disconnected your lips from his.

“No, honestly, are you-”

“Shut up Joel.” You kept making out with the man below you.

“Yes ma’am.” He mumbled under his breath, as he grabbed your ass with both hands, lifting you up to position you better against him.

You let him feel how wet you were, guiding his hand to part your underwear to the side and sliding his middle and index fingers through your folds. He looked up at you immediately, showing a cocky smile before speaking. “What’s this about?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Seeing you take care of me like that.”

“Oh.” He started, before sliding both his fingers inside you with such ease from how slimy you were. “I’d take care of you for the rest of my life.”

You moaned some curse words into his face, making your mouth fall open to an O as you felt him fill you. He started slow, but picked up his pace while reading your expression. His cocky smile still plastered on his face.

“Faster, Joel.” You didn’t have to say another word. He’d been waiting for this all day. To curl his fingers inside you so deep it would hit your spongy spot he knew you’d love.

His expression changed, sending you shivers when you noticed his other hand tracing your spine and end up on the base of your thigh for support. “You’re so fucking hot when you use my hand like this.” He said, applying pressure on your clit with his thumb, in small circular motions.

You bounced on his hand slightly, desperate for more. “I need you.” You tucked at his hair, while pulling at his belt with your free hand.

Looking down at your hand, he spoke assertively, with a smile on his face. “Take it.”

Frenetically, you began unbuckling his belt and undoing his jeans as best you could, pulling them slightly down so they would be halfway down his thighs, pulling down his boxers the same way. His cock shot right up, now free from all the restricting clothes, propped up in the perfect angle for you to enjoy it. As you felt Joel take his fingers from you, you immediately grabbed him with one of your hands and began to direct it with your entrance. You heard the noises you both made when in contact with each other.

“Ah, fuck.” You heard Joel whimper loud and clear when he entered you. “You feel so good.” You quickened your pace on top of him, letting him help you, positing his hands on your hips, guiding you through his length. “You like it when I take care of you.” He repeated.

You nodded your head in approval, looking him in the eye. “Yes Joel.” You said mid moan.

“Oh my God…” he whispered. “Would you look at that? So perfect for me.”

You cut him off just before glueing your mouth to his. “Make me cum, Joel.”

His hands gripped on your sides with more force, allowing him to fill up in all the way with each thrust. The air was filled with condensation, the sounds of your ass hitting his thighs rhythmically and the now not so soft grunts from him, accompanied with your desperate moans as you began to reach your orgasm.

“You’re so close, look at you.” His cocky smile reappearing in his face.

“I’m gonna cum Joel. Please.” You begged him to not stop.

“Right there with you, baby.” He continued his pace, hoping to get you through your edge. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten until it released with an explosion of nerves. You held Joel behind his neck, pushing his face into your chest, still with sloppy bouncing as you tried to ride your high. He wrapped his strong arms around your torso, holding you steady. As you closed your eyes you felt Joel’s warm spur shooting up inside you, which made you moan again. You were incredibly sensitive and he knew. He gave you some last thrusts while looking up at you, from between your breasts. His mouth open in his usual cocky smile. Your sighs filled the room with urgency while you recovered both, still wrapped around each other.

You melted into each other’s skin, until Joel raised his head and placed a soft kiss on one of your wounds.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you that surprise.” You said.

“I got everything I need right here”. You heard him with a stupid smile on your face. “But please let me come with you next time.” You quickly realised that he meant the market or any dangerous place on the city, but instead decided to mock him.

“The shower? Of course, c’mon now.” You got yourself up before he could pick you up again.

You heard him laugh behind you. “That’s not it, but I’ll take it.” As he rushed his foot, trying to get you in his arms again.

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #joel tlou x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut

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callsignthirsty · 7 months

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Chapter 3: Behind the Door

Pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x F!Reader x Ron "Slider" Kerner Summary: Interrupting Iceman. Word Count: 4100 Warnings: Smut, bets and wagers, semi-public sex, fingering Chapter: 3/4 Minors DNI Previous Chapter

Slider's head whips around, shoulders drawn tight toward his ears as the crash of the door startles you both.

"Kerner!"

The split-second of terror subsides with that voice.

Ice.

Slider grunts, stubbornly diving back between your thighs. A man on a mission.

"I know you're up here, and I'm giving you to the count of three."

"No," you whimper, hips rocking against Slider's fingers, urging them to work faster. "Don't stop."

"One."

Instead of responding, Slider's breath ghosts over your clit as he presses two fingers into your cunt, curling them to pinpoint your sweet spot and hurtle you toward the edge.

The click of Ice's shoes is loud as he stalks toward you. "Two."

"So good," Slider hums against your slick skin. You squeeze your eyes closed, keening at the praise. "Almost there, baby."

Sli hisses as fingers fist in his short hair and yank him from between your legs.

"Three."

You whimper at the sudden loss of stimulation and the pour of cool night air over heated skin.

Slider has the audacity to flash Ice a smug smile. "Oh," he says as if he hadn't known the two of you were no longer alone. "Hey, Ice."

Pale eyes narrow as if asking Slider if that's the game they're going to play, then Ice pulls a tissue from his pocket and holds it to his RIO. "You've got lipstick on your face."

Slider's tongue peeks out to lick his lips. "That's not the only thing on my face."

Ice doesn't dignify him with a response, only releasing Slider when he stands and steps back to give you enough space for Ice to resettle you—steadying you on your own two feet and smoothing wrinkled velvet before procuring another tissue to help clean up the rouge smudged beyond the bounds of your lips.

Once you're deemed presentable, Ice descends the steps with his hand wrapped around your wrist, guiding you with an insistent tug that makes you feel more like an insolent child than his date. You want to stamp your feet as Ice assures you that he only needs to talk to a couple more officers he wants to speak with before you can get out of there.

Between the forced separation through staggered travel to D.C. and the night's two encounters—both of which had taken you to the very edge before leaving you high and dry—you're at your limit. So, to say you aren't paying attention to the conversation is an understatement. How are you supposed to pay attention to anything when you're oscillating between the jitters of unsated arousal and lightly filtered frustration?

Because who the hell does he think he is—do they think they are—to draw you into their little macho pissing contest? It's a wonder Iceman and Slider can both fit into the cockpit with their egos so blown out of proportion.

What should it matter in the end? They know you're going home with both of them.

Not that you get to say any of this. Instead, you're left to stew with empty eyes, a pinched smile, and a clenched fist at Ice's side as he makes a good impression on a commander. You're scraping the barrel with each half-hearted laugh at the officer's dull jokes, the Brut in your glass swirling between your fingers untouched. Each shift of your legs brings you closer to angry tears as the spit between them turns tacky, the microabrasions from Slider's stubble smarts reminding you of your lack of undergarment and the dissatisfied, borderline painful feeling of emptiness.

But it'll be a cold day in hell before you let any tears fall. You have your own pride to manage, and besides, no one wants to mingle with the serviceman whose date's eyes burn a tear-stung red.

"How much longer?" you ask Ice once the commander leaves.

Ice gives you an assessing look, eyebrows pulled down, and his head lightly tilted. You can't tell if he feels bad about what he's putting you through or is confused by your shortness of tone. "Impatient?"

You scoff, barely repressing the urge to cross your arms. Instead, you take a sip of your Brut, nose wrinkling as it bursts bitter across your tongue. "Whatever," you huff, done with the conversation and resigning yourself to more of the same. Ice had said there were "a couple" officers he wanted to talk with, after all.

Ice draws a deep breath in through his nose; lips pursed as he looks up to the ceiling. You know he's looking for the right words. You're still determining what those words would be. You know for a fact he won't find them painted on the ceiling.

Lucky for you—because you're not done being upset with him yet—Ice can't pinpoint what he's looking for before you're interrupted.

"Woah!" a familiar blonde excuses, bumbling into Ice and nearly spilling his beer on matching whites. "Sorry about that, still got my sea le– oh! Ice, hey!" Excuse dropped as a beamish grin overtakes Wolfman's face, cheeks tinged pink with drink.

"Wolf," you giggle as Wolf pulls you into a better mood with a friendly hug. It's hard to be all doom and gloom when Wolf's involved; he's a veritable ray of sunshine. "Where's 'Wood?"

"Pfft," he snorts. "Where's anyone? I mean, 'Wood's somewhere with his girl, but one minute I'm with Sli and Chip, the next Sli's gone and Chip's found himself a pretty little thing to dance with." He shrugs, not looking too plussed about his situation.

"I'll dance with you, Wolfie," you jump to offer. "Ice is being boring anyway."

Ice frowns. Wolf laughs. "Who am I to say no to a lady?" he asks, pulling you into an off-kilter twirl. "Don't worry, Ice, she's in good hands!" he calls over his shoulder as you practically drag him toward the dancefloor.

What Wolfman lacks in prowess, he makes up for in enthusiasm. By the time Hollywood and his fiancée find the two of you on the dancefloor—not a surprise since 'Wood and Wolf are practically connected at the hip—you're a little breathless from trying to keep up.

It's a good time, but you can only be so distracted, and it's only a matter of time before you begin scanning the crowd. Either you'll find Slider, or he'll find you, but you'll be damned if he doesn't finish what he started.

You know Ice has people he wants to impress and a ladder he's trying to climb, but shouldn't you be at the top of his list? With this thought at the helm, it isn't long before you spot a head of brown curls that towers above the rest. You rock onto your tiptoes to feed Wolf a lie—bathroom—and push through the crowd alone.

Except as you get closer, it becomes glaringly apparent that this tall brunet is not Slider.

You scowl at no one in particular when you come up empty-handed.

As you decide to keep searching until you find Slider—and, ultimately, relief—someone grabs you from behind.

You whirl around, ready to smack the person's hands off of you.

It's Pete.

You smack him anyway.

"Ow!" Pete yelps, more from surprise than pain. You didn't hit him that hard. "What the hell?!"

"Pete Mitchell, who do you think you are grabbing a lady–"

"You're hardly a lady."

"–from behind like that. You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Pete disarms you with a light pinch to your side that has you clamping your arms against your sides to protect against further tickling. "Where're Tweedledee and Tweedledum? Didn't think I'd catch you without one or the other."

You suppress a roll of your eyes. "Who knows."

"Sooo," Pete drawls a bit awkwardly, "does this have anything to do with the weirdness going on between the three of you?"

"Oh my god. You know," you groan, unable to stop yourself from hiding your face in your hands. How embarrassing.

"I don't know-know," Pete's quick to correct, "and I don't want to. But I know something's up."

This isn't something you're delving into with your brother. "It's nothing. Forget it."

"Doesn't seem like nothing if you're avoiding them."

"Like you're avoiding Penny's dad?" you snark back. Deflecting. "I'm surprised you decided to stick around."

"He's old. It's probably past his bedtime," Pete says confidently, a smile tugging at his lips. "The night's mine."

"Whatever will you do with this newfound freedom?" you tease.

Pete gives a half-shrug, surveying the room. "I'm sure some poor officer brought his daughter so she could meet the love of her life."

You don't bother holding in a mocking laugh. "And that's you?"

"No." Pete makes a face. "But I can be her something for the night."

"Ew," you grunt because you so do not want to get into that with your brother. "I need a drink."

A hand catches your elbow as you turn. "Going somewhere?"

You refuse to look as you shake Ice's hand off and continue walking.

"So you're going to ignore me." It's a statement.

"Don't you have other people to talk to?"

Ice reaches for your elbow again, turning you so he can meet your eyes with his own. "I want to talk to you."

"That's my cue," Pete mumbles as he slinks into the crowd, presumably to find trouble.

Neither you nor Ice move, and your stomach roils as his jaw sets, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You're mad at me."

Part of you wants to tell him off. Instead, you shake your head. "I'm not mad. I'm frustrated."

"Okay," Ice says, with a curt nod, his shoulders—which had been bunched—rolling back as he becomes more sure of himself. "I can work with that."

Something about the way he says it rankles you, and you sneer. Earlier, you'd been all aboard hanging off Ice's arm, but now you're wound tight enough to burst, and all you want to do is take a hot bath. And now that he's made you this way, you're something that needs to be dealt with.

"Let's grab some fresh air," Ice says, loud enough to settle any eavesdroppers as he leads you toward the outdoor courtyard with a gentle but commanding grasp on your elbow.

But you pass by the turn for the courtyard.

"Where are you taking me?" The smell of cigar smoke thins as you walk along less-traveled hallways.

"I'm taking care of it," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world and continues to drag you after him.

Venturing further from the intended party spaces, the lights dim. You doubt the venue means for you to be down here.

Instead of voicing these thoughts, you scoff. "Helpful."

Making sure you're alone, Ice pulls you down a deserted hallway. "You're frustrated. I have people to talk to," he says slowly, sparing you a glance.

You frown. There goes Ice, talking about other people. Again.

He beelines for two unassuming doors, reaching out to the first, but its handle jiggles. Catches. Locked.

"I'm taking care of it."

Before you can challenge that assertion, Ice steps to the side and grabs the handle to the second door, marked STAFF ONLY.

It clicks.

Ice pushes you inside, following close behind.

The light coming through the foot of the door isn't enough to tell you where you are. But the clinical, electric-orange antiseptic smell of cleaning supplies invading your nose, singeing the hairs, is more than enough to give it away.

When you cross your arms over your chest, something falls to the ground with a wooden clack! "By dragging me into a janitor's closet?"

"Well, you said you'd be good for me, but that didn't last long."

You reach for where the handle must be, but Ice anticipates your moodiness and moves to intercept, deflecting your hand. "But the bet was that Slider couldn't get you off." His breath fans your face as he leans in, so you tilt your head away to avoid his lips. Stubborn. Undeterred, he kisses the long line of your neck, and the ghost of soft lips has you holding back a gasp. "So I'm taking care of it."

"What if it doesn't want to be taken care of?"

Sharp teeth are a shock beneath the hinge of your jaw. "Don't be a brat."

A strangled moan trips past your lips as he catches you off guard.

You don't have to see Ice to know he's smirking. "Noted." Then his hand is cupping your breast. "So, are you going to let me take care of you or not?"

You're not proud of how quickly you crumble, but it's like a switch flips. You hope Ice is okay with the whiplash because after an entire night of teasing, you're desperate for relief. "Please," you whimper, pushing yourself further into his orbit. You want so bad it hurts.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I've got you." Ice captures your lips in a heated kiss—nipping at your bottom lip so you hiss and open up for him. He knows what you need, and he's (apparently) going to give it to you.

Your fingers, clumsy in their haste, scramble for Ice's belt, but he brushes them aside. "This is about you. I'll get mine later," he says, tilting your head to the side so he can track wet kisses up to the spot just below your ear, electricity sparking down your spine as teeth tug at the lobe. "When I lay you out on my bed."

A high-pitched, excited moan is your answer, interrupted by Ice's fingers over your lips. "You've gotta be quiet," he purrs, voice low in your ear. "Wouldn't want anyone to hear us."

"Then kiss me." He does. And as you breathe in deep, the whole situation makes you feel like you're back in high school: shelving digging into your lower back like you're sneaking around, trading uncoordinated kisses in the janitor's closet with David Hodges until your brother finds you and rips poor David away for an ass-beating. But infinitely better.

Ice's lips are familiar. Urgent and addictive against your own as he swallows your whimper—nothing like David.

Ice pinches your fat bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it with a slick smack. You suck in a sharp breath, lashes fluttering open to look up at the shadow of him in the dark. "So pretty," he growls, fabric rustling as he hastily cuffs the sleeve of his jacket and pushes it up to his elbow to keep it safe from what he has planned.

Handfuls of velvet are bunched around your waist so you can spread your legs more freely, and Ice can slot his hand between them.

Threading your fingers through his hair, you return his lips to yours. You both groan from the kiss—you from the relief of his hands on you, the promise of a sweet release; him from how wet and needy you are (Slider's work, really, but Ice seems keen to reap the benefits).

When you break apart to gasp for air, Ice husks, "I'd get my mouth on you." And it conjures the image of Slider's wicked brown eyes looking up at you from between your legs, your cunt throbs. God, you want that. "Too bad I can't smell like pussy while I'm talking to the brass." But he allows himself the indulgence of a single taste, bringing fingers slick with your arousal to his lips.

You shake your head, unsure if his eyes have adjusted enough to see you. "Unprofessional," you agree, dizzy as his fingers plunge back into your heat. The heel of his palm grinds deliciously against your clit, his fingers working with the frantic cant of your hips as you chase a high that's walking the line of pain in its evasion of you. A steady, unignorable ache.

Ice drags his nails over the dense fabric covering your tits, your nipples pebbling at the faux cool sensation. "Tell me what you need," he whispers against your lips.

Relief is so close the air is thick with it. It tastes like Lysol. You stutter out a breath, and it morphs into a quiet whine. "Just like that," you mewl. "Keep touching me like that."

"Yeah?" Ice teases, a third finger sneaking into you and zeroing in on your sweet spot, thumb coming up to rub circles into your clit. What little light there is in the closet glints off the sharp point of his teeth as his lips part. "You're going to cum on my fingers," he declares, and your heart skips a beat when it jumps into your throat. "Then, you're going to go back to being my good, pretty girlfriend while I talk business," he presses a teasing kiss to the corner of your lips, and you can't contain a needy, lilting whine, "and no one will know you needed to cum on my fingers just to make it through the night."

"Oh god," you sob, nails digging into the starched fabric of Ice's jacket. You're right there. Liquid flames lick at your core, your tummy tied in knots and thighs jumpy as Ice speeds up his fingers, a muffled squelch each time his fingers bottom out, knuckles pressed tight to your cunt.

The two of you are so distracted that you don't hear the frantic footsteps until they're almost on top of you.

Ice jerks his fingers from you, yanking your dress back into place at the same time as he steps between you and the door to the closet, blocking you from whoever's about to fling the door open.

But it doesn't stop your eyes from meeting your brother's over his shoulder.

Pete slams the door shut.

Silence. Then: "You still dressed?"

Posture going rigid, Ice shoots the door a barbed look. "Maverick–" Pete shushes him through the door. He must be pressed up against the wood. Ice gives in but doesn't give up, continuing with a more hushed, "–what the hell?"

A pause. "That's not a no," your brother mulls. "Scoot over. I'm coming in."

"No!" You and Ice hiss simultaneously, but Pete is already squeezing himself into the closet with the two of you, pressed tight against Ice's back as he shuts the door firmly but with as much care as he gives his Kawasaki.

"Look," Pete whispers, and maybe his hands would be up in a placating manner if there were enough room, "I either hide in here with you two or hack it out there with Admiral Benjamin."

Without the distraction of each other, you and Ice hear far more measured footsteps hesitate at the far end of the hall before heading in your direction.

"I like your chances," Ice bites. "Leave."

Pete jostles all three of you as he turns to get into Ice's face as much as he can, given the confines of the closet. A shelf creaks, but nothing falls. "Well, it won't look good on you either," he whispers furiously. "Huh? Ice-cold, no mistakes, making out with your date in a closet like you're at junior pr–" Ice slaps a hand over his mouth, and the three of you fall deathly still.

The tension thickens until the footsteps pass you by.

No one dares to let out a quiet, adrenaline-shaken breath, even when the footsteps sound like they must have reached the other end of the hallway. Pete does, however, allow his shoulders to sag in relief.

Then, the footsteps pause.

They grow closer—louder—once more. This time, the muffled chaf of dress shoes on the carpet sounds like it's purposefully approaching the closet. Each step ratchets the tension up exponentially. You hold still, certain that if you shift your weight, something on the open shelving will give away your location. Ice, still shielding you from the door, brings a hand up to pet the back of your neck; the cool metal of his Academy ring—grounding any other time—sends a nervous trickle down your spine.

Benjamin is obviously after Pete, but how bad will it look that the two of you are in the closet with him?

There's a mechanical squeal of metal catching, handle turning, getting stuck. Jiggle. A grunt as he encounters the locking mechanism of the next door over.

Two shadows block the ambient light at the bottom of the door.

Well, you pinch your eyes closed. This will be embarrassing.

"Admiral Benjamin," someone calls from further away.

"Ah," the response comes uncomfortably close to your door. "Lieutenant…?"

"Kerner, sir." Slider. "I was with Lieutenant Kazansky earlier. Did you ever find Mitchell?

Two quick raps on the door. Pete flinches. "I believe I have." And Admiral Benjamin sounds smug.

The statement hangs in the air.

"In a closet, sir?" You can see the skeptical raise of Slider's brow in your mind's eye.

The shadow shifts. "I'm sure he came this way."

"Well, I just saw his RIO headed toward the taxis." A pause. "He's a slippery little shit. If he was here, he's long gone by now."

"Hm." Admiral Benjamin doesn't move, but from the sound of things, neither does Slider. "Well, Lieutenant. Really good stuff on the Enterprise."

Slider thanks him as the shadows disappear from the doorway and footsteps hurry off on a Goose chase.

When you're sure the admiral has left the vicinity—thankfully not asking Slider why he decided to stick around—Pete stumbles out of the closet with all the grace of a baby giraffe but none of the height. "Aw, Kerner," he teases with a dopey grin, "you do like me."

Slider snorts. "Don't thank me yet. The Geese are waiting for a taxi."

Pete's chin falls to his chest, and he mumbles a "goddammit" before hurrying to see if he can avoid Admiral Benjamin by sneaking through the courtyard.

"They're not the only ones," Slider tells Ice, nodding in the general direction of what remains of the Ball's attendees. "If you want to talk to anyone else, now's the time."

But as you practically tremble between them, Ice looks at you—really looks at you—and his features soften. He cups your shoulder, offering but not pulling you into his side. "I think I've networked enough for one night," he declares, tone light. His thumb rubbing back and forth, soothing.

Then those gray-blue eyes are on you, and his lips stretch into a slow, soft smile. "No one I can't talk with some other time."

"You sure?" Slider asks. Then, hushed, "I can take care of her while you finish up."

There is quite literally nothing you want less. The venue is clearly cursed, and you don't plan on sticking around long enough to find out what other ways you can get caught or edged tonight.

"The bet's off," Ice states before you can say 'no,' and your heart flutters. If Ice wasn't going to stick around for one last round of shoulder-rubbing, then winning was only a matter of getting you in a taxi.

For his part, Slider doesn't seem as shocked as you are by Ice's declaration.

Ice feathers a kiss to your temple before you can second-guess his decision. It's the most relaxed you've seen him all evening. "Let's get you a taxi."

"Wait." Slider pushes off the wall. He procures a key from his pocket and presses it into Ice's hand. "Holiday Inn. K Street. Leave in 10 minutes."

Ice fiddles with the thick plastic of the keychain but pays it no real mind.

"Don't give me that look," Slider boos.

Ice licks his lips. "You know our rooms were comped, right?" It's a perk of being summoned to the event, you're sure.

Slider takes a half step forward, the three of you the closest you've been all night. From this distance, Ice has to look up ever so slightly to meet Slider's cocky gaze. "You want to what?" he asks, voice going deep and quiet enough no one else could hear if they happened by you. "Pile into a single room at the same hotel everyone else is staying at?" He motions between the three of you. "How's that going to work?"

Some like to write Slider off as all muscle, no brain. But it's his job to see things others don't—things Ice doesn't. He knew they couldn't take you back to their fancy hotel rooms even before he came to the event tonight. The safest solution had been to shell out for a lesser room somewhere you were less likely to turn heads.

"She isn't exactly known for being quiet," Sli stresses.

Ice ponders the key for long seconds before he pockets it with a nod.

Slider smirks. "That's what I thought."

#thirsty's fics #fic: stuck in the. middle #fic: stuck at the navy ball #chapter 3: behind the door #tom iceman kazansky x reader #tom iceman kazansky x f!reader #ron slider kerner x reader #ron slider kerner x f!reader #female reader #tom iceman kazansky x reader x ron slider kerner #top gun smut #tom iceman kazansky smut #ron slider kerner smut #the '86 flyboys #because is fucking your rival-turned-friend's sister even fun if you don't have to be over-the-top sneaky about it?

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