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writeforfandoms · 1 year

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You’re the hand I have to hold

Find my masterlist and series masterlist

Your mysterious contact sends a new dragon and some clues your way.

Everyone thank @brandyllyn for pointing out a golden opportunity here.

Warnings: Swearing, more mysteries, people cannot give straight answers in this ‘verse.

Word count: 1.3k

Jack Daniels x f!reader

The email surprised you in its simplicity, especially considering who it came from.

If your rancher is amenable, I'd like to board a dragon with him for a few days. I will of course pay for the service. Please let me know at your earliest convenience.

You read the email three times before you took a screenshot and sent it to Jack.

His response was fast and simple: What the fuck?

Giving up on trying to figure him out via text, you called instead.

"Who sent that?" Jack asked, grouchy and grumbly.

"My source, the one I told you about." You bit your lip. "He wouldn't have asked if it wasn't legitimate."

"Why should I?" It was little more than a petulant growl, but still made you smile.

"Well, he is helping us," you pointed out, very reasonably. "He's not actually this awful person. Besides, you'd be doing him a favor, so I bet you could leverage that to get more information."

Jack was silent for a few long moments before he blew out a noisy breath. "You make too much sense, darlin'." Already he sounded less grumpy.

"So should I tell him yes?"

"Ask for dates and what he's payin'. I'll decide when I get that info." Jack grumbled a little. "You coming over this weekend?"

"Of course," you agreed. "Nothing could keep me away."

"Good." His smile was clear in his voice. "I'll talk you later, I gotta get back to it before Ginger murders Tequila."

You laughed. "Go on. I'll see you soon." Grinning, you hung up. It took no time to type out a response to your contact, and then you went back to work.

The answer came not even twenty minutes later. The timing was this weekend. And the fee was… a lot. It seemed a bit exorbitant to you, but maybe that was intentional.

Jack okayed it, so you sent along the reply.

This weekend was certainly going to be interesting.

Saturday noon found you and Jack outside awaiting the dragon. Someone (a gruff man) had called you earlier to notify you that he was on his way with the dragon.

"Could be them," Jack murmured, nodding towards the horizon. You could see two specks, slowly growing larger as they approached.

“Why two?” you asked, shading your eyes as you watched the specks.

“Prob’ly has his own dragon,” Jack grunted. “Easier for him to ride his own and drop off this dragon here, so he’s got his own way out.” He shrugged when you looked at him. “Only two ways to transport a dragon, darlin’, and freight on these guys is expensive as adults.”

You chuckled but didn’t ask further. The specks had definitely become dragons, getting closer as you watched.

It wasn’t long until they landed a safe distance away, although the wind from their landing did blow dirt and leaves around. You made a face as you brushed a leaf from your shoulder, starting towards the two dragons.

The rider slid down from the dragon on the right, a huge silver dragon with bits of orange hiding among the scales. The rider wore a brown flight suit, zipped all the way up, and a silver helmet, like a motorcycle helmet. The visor was tinted and pulled down still, giving you no glimpse of the man.

He took a few steps towards you and Jack and then stopped, calmly saying your name. When you blinked and nodded, he pulled a letter from a pocket and held it out to you.

“From the shipper,” he said, not moving and letting you step forward in your own time to take the envelope.

“Thank you.” The envelope had only your name on the front, no other information. “Do you want a drink? Does your dragon need anything?”

The man tilted his head, just a little, and you had the feeling he was watching you, even as Jack came up behind you to place a hand at the small of your back. “Thank you, but no. We’re fine.”

His dragon snorted, lowering her head to sniff at you. A puff of hot air sent a leaf you had missed flying away from you, and you giggled. Raising one hand slowly, you let her sniff your hand and then shove her snout up against your palm, clearly demanding scratches.

“Hello, gorgeous,” you crooned, scratching along her jaw. “You are huge, my goodness. And impressive. What’s your name?” You glanced at the rider.

“Razor Crest.” He sounded surprised. “She doesn’t normally… like people.”

You laughed quietly, stretching up on your toes to scratch her eye ridges. From the side, the other dragon snorted and rumbled, apparently upset at the lack of attention but also smart enough to not get into Razor Crest’s space. “I hear that a lot. And what’s your name?”

He was silent for a few moments, just watching you and his dragon. “Djarin.”

“Well, Djarin, thank you for this.” You smiled and scratched Razor Crest’s eye ridges one more time before you patted her jaw and stepped back. “Safe flights.”

Djarin nodded to you and pulled himself back up onto his dragon, seemingly effortlessly. Which was an impressive display, you had to admit. You and Jack both backed up, going over to the new dragon to give Razor plenty of space to take off.

“And who’s this?” Jack asked, holding out his hand for the green dragon to sniff. The dragon was on the smaller side, though clearly an adult. The dragon pranced forward with only a perfunctory sniff, ready to play.

You opened the letter, reading through it quickly. “This is PJ, apparently.” You slowed your reading, frowning a little.

This is PJ. He’s five - an adult but still young. His previous owner, Poppy, had to get rid of him to make space, as he has turned out to be too rambunctious for her and her staff. He was raised around humans, and is quite comfortable with people.

His registration number is 12104083, alternate number 103974812.

Someone will be by in a few days to take him. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter.

The letter was unsigned, but you didn’t need a signature to know who it was from. But the other information didn’t make sense. You hadn’t expected anything about his former owner, and…

“Sugar?” Jack frowned a little, ducking his head to try to meet your gaze. PJ nudged him, sending him stumbling a step, and he absently patted the dragon’s jaw. “What’s wrong?”

“Dragons don’t have registration numbers,” you mumbled, half to yourself, rereading that sentence. “Or alternate numbers.”

“What?”

You held out the letter to him. “Dragons don’t have registration numbers,” you reiterated. “We all know that. So why is he giving me numbers to reference?”

Jack didn’t respond, busy staring at the paper. His eyes were wide, lips parted just a little. PJ nudged him again, but this time Jack didn’t even reprimand the dragon. Instead he scrambled for his phone, typing in something quickly.

“Jack?” You frowned, watching him.

“Poppy,” he mumbled. “Oh, clever man. Whoever you are, you do not like the Golden Circle, do you?” He was starting to sound excited now.

“What are you talking about?” You shifted your weight, glancing between Jack, the letter, and PJ.

“The Golden Circle is run by a woman named Poppy,” Jack told you quickly. “We’ve known that much for years, but could never get a location on her base. ‘S why she’s still in operation. The numbers here aren’t just numbers. They’re coordinates.” He laughed once, short and sharp, and turned his phone around to show you a spot in the middle of Cambodia. “Your informant just gave us the location of the Golden Circle.”

#dragon rancher jack #dragon rancher 'verse #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #f!reader

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graciegoeskrazy · 1 year

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Hey!!!!!

Ok first things first I love your stories normally I am not a fan of angst but the way you write your angst stories are amazing!!!! Literally had me crying lol 😂

I was wondering if you could write a Seirra Six/Court Gentry x daughter??? I have never read one before

Maybe something like she is around 5 - 6 and Lloyd kidnaps her as leverage (has her for maybe a week) and while he on the phone with Six, she starts crying because she wants her dad and Six hears her. Now that Court knows who has her he is able to rescue her. Then when he does rescue her they are both just happy to be together again.

Thank you and this is 100% your choice 💜

Leverage

Pairings: Court Gentry/Sierra Six x Daughter!reader

Content/Warnings: kidnapping, guns, some language, hospitals, not proofread, Lloyd Hanson lmao

WC: ~700

A/N: I told y’all id be back more. <3 THANK YOU to the awesome anon who requested this. I really hope you enjoy and thank you so much for your kind words. I hope it's okay that I ended up making y/n a liiiil bit older. no older than 12 is what I feel but idk y’all use your imagination. Enjoy!

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ELSEWHERE - THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT

“It’s okay- It’s me, it’s me.” He turned you around to face him but still had his hand covering your mouth. “You’ree safe now, y/n.” The sight of his familiar blue eyes put you at ease. “Its alright. Im gonna remove my hand now but I need you to be quite, okay?” You nodded in response. Once he let go you let out the biggest breath trying to calm you down, but for some reason it did the exact opposite. He opened his arms for a hug, knowing you might crash any second. Without words or warning, you fell into his grasp, silently letting out gentle cries and whimpers into him, soaking his shirt with your tears. He pulled you away, “I’m gonna get you out of here but I need you to listen to every world I say, Okay?” You nodded in response between hiccups. He grabbed your hand and the both of you ran out of the room.

You ran through the vacant building with your dad. Everything felt like an unsteady rollercoaster. Flying through the estranged emptiness and running down flights of stairs as fast as your feet could carry you. You had a death grip on your dad’s hand, but even that wasn’t enough to keep you two together when Lloyd pulled you away.

One arm was placed around your neck and the other around your waist to try and restrain you from escaping. He walked backwards so he could still face your father. Whatever he was planning, Lloyd wanted Six to have a front row seat.

“What a reunion!”

“What do you want Lloyd?” He showed a sly grin. “You took everything from me. My job, my friends, my fucking finger.” He lifted his hand. “What do you think I could possibly want? I want you to repent, and suffer the way I did”

“Whatever you want from me doesn’t involve y/n. Let her go and we’ll talk.” Lloyd let out a fake laugh. “You’re a really funny man. Gosh what a funny joke- No I think I’ll kill her.” He said, Raising the gun to your temple. Cries and screams filled the air as you pleaded for release. “Lloyd, you don't wanna do this.”

“Oh I think I do.”

He cocked the gun. The scared and panic levels reached their all time high, as you feared for your life for what seems like the 100th time today. A shot went off. You were knocked to the ground. You were waiting for it to come, some jolt of instant pain or something, but you never felt anything. The last thing you remember was your dad holding you. His voice sounded muffled and you were still on the ground. That’s when everything went dark.

You woke up lying in a hospital bed. Wires and tubes layer horizontally across your whole body. Panic made way and settled in.A feeling that has shown itself frequently but no matter how much, it never gets easier. Your dad was by your side. His words sounded muffled again but they slowly made their way to formation. “Y/n. Can you here me sweetie? How do you feel? You alright?” A bright light shined in your eye. Another voice appeared. “She’s okay. I’ll give you two a minute.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Once the door closed you started with your questioning while trying to sit up. “What the hell happened?”

“Woah, sweetie. Be careful. You were shot.”

Despite your fathers worry, you sat up and continued. “Is this purgatory or something?” That made your father laugh a little.

“No. We’re at the hospital. You were taken into emergency surgery. The bullet missed your brain, in fact it barely wen through your skull. Doctors say you’ll make a full recovery though. You’re safe now, y/n”

“Is…is he gone?” Your father sighed. “I took care of it.” He said, hesitantly. That statement alone could mean a plethora of different things, but you trusted your father. At the end of the day, all that mattered was that you were safe and healthy. Recovery would inevitably take a long while, but as long as your dad was with you, you had faith it would all be okay.

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independentzaun · 7 months

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Monsters freed

Continued from here with @saviourofzaun

Muscles on her toned body tensing, and then relaxing Jinx in that moment resembled nothing so much as a predator that had been caught and leashed. A monster caught, leashed, bound, and woe betide those involved in her capture. Eyes utterly focused, and filled with a particular frustration as well as a need to hurt those who had brought her and her adoptive father to such a state flickered over to meet Silco’s hearing his voice. Nodding in understanding, Jinx took a deep breath, knowing the benefit of timing things better than most ever realized, and forced herself to relax as best she could.

She utterly hated this feeling of having lost. This feeling of being trapped, held, and forced into a weakness that reminded Jinx of the past. It was a feeling that would fuel the inevitable retaliation, and would inspire Jinx when it came time to play with those soon-to-be prey.

She would have to prove herself, and her strength once more. Both to herself, and to Silco.

She couldn't risk him deciding she wasn’t strong enough.

Hands turning about to start figuring out a way to get free, Jinx paused hearing the whisper. “Quiet, quiet.” Her own voice falling into a whisper, Jinx turned just a bit making it easier for Silco to cut the ropes binding her. Feeling him cup her face, she let her own hands raise up to rest on his wrists, squeezing ever so gently as she met his gaze. For a second Jinx relaxed, offering a soft smile, and without thinking nodded as though answering a silent question. That soft smile turned quickly into something predatory, and sinister as she whispered back. “An art piece so grand it’ll remind everyone not to be so stupid as to do something like this ever again. I’d love that. I’ll bet together we could make something awesome, and terrifying.”

Jinx’s hands left his wrists as he reached for her hair, and she in turn reached out resting her hands over his shoulders nearly hugging him. At his instruction she let go, and immediately moved. Dropping to her stomach silently, she turned her head looking under the door, and sneered seeing only two pairs of boots. Only two guards, and some basic rope? For the chem-baron Silco, and his “mad” dog? Fucking insulting, as far as she was concerned. Moving back to her feet, she glanced to Silco holding up two fingers then reached for her crop-top undoing, and pulling off the strap that held it close to her skin.

“Ready?” With a whisper, she reached out turning the doorknob ever so slightly just to check that it wasn’t locked. Whoever held them captive thought two guards, and some rope would be enough to keep the “old man” and “crazy girl” helpless. They were about to be proven very wrong. The moment Silco indicated he was ready, the door would get ripped open.

A boot against the back of one man’s knee helped to bring him down to her level, the strap suddenly around his throat, and a second later Jinx using that strap as leverage to bring the man down, slamming his head as hard as possible against the floor with a dull thud. Eyes gleaming with momentary delight, her shoulders tensed, and her arms strained cutting off the man’s air as she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “You’d best hope you don’t wake back up.” Keeping the hold going until the man went unconscious, Jinx trusted Silco to take care of the other guard, and simply ensured her own was taken care of. Standing up when he was out cold, she took a moment to put the strap back in its normal spot not caring in the least that she’d just strangled a man with it.

“Wasn’t sure you want them dead, or part of the art project?” Bright blue eyes gazing up at Silco she shrugged then glanced down the hallway. “Down the corridor, one right, one left, one right, two left, and forward will get us out of the building. Probably lead us to the rest of them too. I’ll bet we could take them all ourselves.” Blindfolded, and slung over someone's shoulder, Jinx had memorized the route through the building anyways. If asked, she could even estimate how many feet between each turn without thinking anything special of it. After all, she had to know how far a given space was, and how quickly people could move through it in order to trap it properly, or land a shot on a moving target.

A moment of violence, and Jinx being utterly serious. A moment which passed almost as quickly as it came as she looked back to Silco with a pleading expression. “But we can’t just leave. I don’t have Zapper, or Whisker on me. We need to get them back. Pleeeease? It’s not like these amateurs are a real threat anyways!”

There was no world in which Jinx left her prized pistol behind, or her back up special Chomper.

Not without being forced to at least, and grumpy about it for the next few days.

#saviourofzaun #monstersfreed

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fumblingmusings · 8 months

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I love your slow paced envy universe so much! It's so rich and I'm always a sucker for dysfunctional family dynamics. One thing I've noticed, both Alfred and Matthew are maybe not competing for Evelyns attentions but appreciating when that attention is on them even if its anger. Does this ever cause a rift? Is it something that would stroke Eva's ego, to have them both vying for her attention? Especially with Alfred sort of bringing all that focus on himself.

A rift over her attention? She would absolutely preen at the thought, but I doubt it. I think Matthew is too passive - and too smart - to fall into that trap. Swallow those feelings down down down... Alfred has too much pride to go down that rabbit hole either. Much easier to get angry at the person making you feel some sort of way than be vulnerable.

Having said that, I like the idea maybe, of when they were babies, Alfred would be hurt thinking she was so desperate to have a second boy was because Alfred wasn't enough, and you know Alfred loves to be the centre of attention, especially following the War of the Three Kingdoms when he was cut off from Evelyn so then getting her back only for her head to be elsewhere... So it all compounded a bit by the end of the 1600s. But I think that was weakened by the fact that no, he genuinely loved being around Matthew and his mama was trying to create scenario where they could be together, for Alfred's benefit as much as her own (so she says).

On the opposite end Mattie being lonely and kind of wistful thinking about Alfred who gets to spend all of his time with maman whilst Francis forgot to write that month. He knows what the alternative is, and she's forever promising him things she won't keep, but he's small and wants greener pastures and what Alfred has. But that's just little kids wanting to be the centre of the world because you are the centre of the world when you're a helpless little child. Figuratively. And it's a cold reality when it's harshly taken away, or you can see it with others, but you yourself are denied it. Resentful. Just a little. He thinks Alfred is a big dumb dumb after the fallout in Salem.

I think Matthew knew - as she told him - that Evelyn can be sweet and loving to Mattie and maybe even at time show preference to his company over Alfred until the cows come home, but there will be times that England will drop Canada in the shit because America - not even demands it - just the England infers that placating America is preferable. So he sort of internalised that hierarchy and thinks 'this is fine, this is the way it has to work', because what is a viable alternative? Realistically speaking. He was told that one of the main reasons England took him was for Alfred's safety - no more French on those borders. That screws with a kid's value and she definitely exploits it.

And I'm not sure Alfred for a long time quite understand how much leverage he had? Not until Evelyn says to him that she'll always pick him over Europe, when she tells him that the only time she will genuinely act is over his, Matt, Jack and Maia's safety, and then it becomes a game of 'well how far can we go beyond Europe then? Tell me the order of the children' and the answer is pretty much what you'd expect. And Matthew knows it too.

So Alfred, like Evelyn with Matthew, can have a relationship with his brother which is, on paper, perfectly normal and healthy and trusting, but I think there are times when - as nations - they all get a bit backstabby. I think they all accept it as part of the game - the nature of being a literal spirit. You cannot live a thousand years and hold on to every contradiction, it will drive a person mad. Some may hold a grudge and grumble (Alfred), some may be upset at the status quo but accept it (Matthew), some may excuse it and act even worse because 'it's just the way things have always worked' (Evelyn).

Maybe when they're adults it's just them drunkenly arguing about who is more of a momma's boy, but I don't think it would really go anyway genuinely hurtful. They're just dumb drunk 20 somethings rolling around on the street on a night out during a conference realising that they need a lift back to the hotel and do you think Eva would pick us up oh you would fucking say her wouldn't ya etc. etc...

I think the boys in modern day love each other more than her. And I think she comes to be actually very much at peace and happy with that fact.

#thank you!!!#q&a #fanfic ask

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tillmansloan6 · 2 years

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#bandas eventos paraná

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kiyosamu · 3 years

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back up.

---♡---

pairing: rintaro suna x female reader

genre: dark, angst, (slight) enemies to comfort, some comedy in the beginning. // one shot, 3.9k words

synopsis: being the younger sister of the miya twins definitely has its advantages and its... disadvantages. sure, it comes with all of the teasing from both them and their friends, but it gets more serious when people hold grudges on them and try to take out their anger on you.

content warnings: descriptions of assault, threats, sexual assault (no penetration), violence, injuries

---♡---

“Osamu!” You screeched, attempting to push your older brother off of you. “Get him off!”

Atsumu had tackled you to the ground and was sitting on your back, cackling with satisfaction as he pinned you down.

“I can’t help ya.” Osamu smirked as he walked by. He sat on the couch adjacent to you and Atsumu with an amused glimmer in his eyes. “Shouldn’t have eaten his pudding.”

“Why do you care if I eat his pudding?!” You growled, thrashing around under Atsumu to get some kind of leverage while he sat on you with all of his weight, rendering your limbs useless.

“If you eat his pudding, then he eats mine.” Osamu shrugged, “And I hate it when he does that.”

“Take it up with him! I just grabbed whatever was closest. You guys are so weird with your labeled food!” You tried to throw a punch at Atsumu and he caught your fist easily, snickering when you let out a loud whine. “Atsumu, get OFF!”

“No can do, kiddo.” He grinned, “Ya know what happens when you eat our food.”

“I’m gonna tell mom.” You mumbled.

“That’s dirty. Don’t bring mom into this.” Osamu interrupted and you shot a death glare at him.

“Stop involving yourself! I don’t need your commentary.”

“Don’t be such a tattle tale.” Atsumu teased, finally easing up on you and taking a bit of the weight off of your back. You gasped dramatically as you could finally take a full, deep breath.

“Thank you, god. You’re heavy.” You said quietly, deciding to fully submit and just lay down on the living room floor.

“Did you just call me fat?!” Atsumu gasped, crawling over to your face to look you in the eyes.

“Yes.” You nodded. Atsumu immediately turned to Osamu, who burst out laughing at his offended expression.

“Laugh it up, ‘Samu. If I’m fat then so are you.” Atsumu muttered as he finally stood up to take a seat next to Osamu on the couch.

“I can’t stand either of you.” You mumbled, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at them.

“Why’s baby Miya throwing a temper tantrum?” A familiar, monotone voice was coming from the entry way. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“None of your business, Suna.” You glared at the tall boy. He responded with a crooked smirk while he walked in with his hands plunged deep in his pockets.

Suna was over at your house almost every day. He also teased you as much as your brothers did, if not more.

“Jeez, what’s with the attitude?” He snorted, “You sound like Atsumu. I swear you’re triplets.”

Suna jumped over the back of the couch and plopped down between the twins. You sat up, looking at the three of them for a second before getting up and retreating to your room.

“Aw, come on baby Miya. Where are you going?” Suna called after you while you walked down the hallway.

“I need to get ready. I’m going out tonight.”

You retreated to your bedroom and sat down at your vanity. Before you could even pull out a hair brush, Osamu had burst into your bedroom.

“Where ya going?” He asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Out?” You replied, getting up to sift through your closet for something to wear.

Your friend had set you up on a blind date tonight. Your mom had held your brothers back a year and since you were only 10 months apart, you were all in the same year. This meant you all had the same classmates, knew all of the same people, and they were constantly in your business.

When your friend had told you about this guy, he sounded too good to be true. He had gone to another school that was a bit further away, but since you had all graduated a few months prior you figured a bit of distance wasn’t that big of a deal. After all, you were all adults now.

“Out where?” Atsumu asked, pushing the door open all the way and standing against the other side of the frame.

“On a date…” you muttered. The moment you said that, your brothers came in and promptly sat on your bed.

“Where are you going?”

“With who?”

“Where did you meet him?”

“How old is he?”

“Is he picking you up?”

“How long have you known him for?”

“Oh my god.” You groaned, pointing at your door. “Can you guys get out? I need to get ready. Why are you asking so many questions?”

“Believe it or not, kiddo, we just want to make sure you’re safe.” Osamu said, standing up and walking over to pat you on your head.

“Ugh, ‘Samu, you guys don’t have to treat me like a kid still. I’m an adult now, you know.” You said, crossing your arms.

“But you’ll always be our little sister.” Atsumu smiled. “Mom can’t keep track of all of us all the time. So we need to do it for her.” His words were genuine. Even though the three of you bickered and teased each other, you were protective of each other. You knew your brothers would do anything for you.

You’d never tell them, but you’d do anything for them, too.

“If anyone needs keeping track of, it’s you two.” You smirked. Atsumu rolled his eyes and Osamu shrugged you off.

Your brothers tried to pry more information out of you, but you only told them the bare minimum. After all, you barely even knew anything. You didn’t even know his name.

“So? Where’s she going?” Suna asked as the twins came back into the living room. He was sprawled out on the couch and flicking through the tv channels.

“That restaurant downtown. The one a few bus stops before your house.” Atsumu said with crossed arms. “She won’t let us drive her.”

“I’ll take the bus with her.” Suna shrugged, “It’s on the way, so I’ll make sure she gets there safely.”

“Good. Then you can tell us who she’s meetin’ there.” Osamu smirked.

Whether or not Osamu had asked, Suna was planning on finding that out regardless.

“Call is if you need anythin’!” Atsumu called to you as you walked to the door.

“We’ll come! Just call us, okay?” Osamu added.

“I’ll be fine, but thanks. I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.” You said loud enough for them to hear you in the other room. “Love you.”

“Love ya!” They replied in unison.

—

“Are you sure you’re not just spying on me?” You mumbled just loud enough for Suna to hear you from the seat behind you.

“Just decided to go home, baby Miya.” He replied, leaning forward. “Why? Do you want me to spy on you?”

“No!” You turned around and squinted your eyes at him. He looked back at you with a playful smirk and then went back to paying attention to his phone.

You got off the bus and hesitated for a moment, half expecting Suna to get off after you.

Except he didn’t.

You sighed, feeling the nerves creeping up and realizing you really were all alone now. Meeting a man you didn’t know, and unsure of what to expect.

You looked around and pulled out your phone to check the message from your friend again to refresh yourself on the characteristics of your blind date.

Dark hair, about 5’10, dark green eyes, ah-

“Miya, is it?” A man fitting the exact description was standing in front of you, a rose in hand and suspicious smirk across his lips.

“Yes, sorry, what’s your name?” Your voice was trembling and you had no idea why. You chalked it up to nerves, but it might’ve been the uneasiness you’d felt when you made eye contact with him.

“Daishou Suguru.” He said melodically. He handed you the rose and lightly pressed his hand to your lower back. “Shall we go inside? I have a table for us.”

You nodded, walking inside with him.

——

“So, Miya, any relation to those twins?” He asked, leaning in with his chin on his palm. He stared at you intently as if he wanted to soak in every word you were about to say.

“Oh, yeah. They’re my brothers.” You smiled. Even though they irritated you, you always liked to talk about them. You were proud of your brothers and all of their accomplishments, and talking about them was easier than having to come up with things to say about yourself.

“Ah,” Daishou nodded, thanking the server as she passed your dishes to the two of you. “Those two are real shit talkers, huh?”

“Yeah,” you laughed, a bit too casually for the occasion and realized you’d never even heard this guy’s name prior to tonight. “Wait, why do you say that?”

You were familiar with pretty much all of the volleyball players that your brothers had faced off against. Inarizaki’s own team were like family, but the other teams were around so often you’d gotten to know quite a few of the players from other schools just by going to the games and tournaments.

“Played against them once.” Daishou mumbled, the previously warm expression in his eyes was gone. “I don’t know which one I hate more. The mouthy setter or the spiker with the ego.”

You got goosebumps when he spoke these words. These weren’t normal rivalry grudges. This sounded like pure, unprecedented hatred.

You started to feel uncomfortable.

You hummed in acknowledgement. You weren’t sure how to reply, but you wanted him to know you’d heard him and were listening.

“So, how are you going to make it up to me?” Daishou asked. You froze, looking up at him.

His previously cold expression was warm again, cheeks round with a big smile. “I’m kidding.”

“Oh,” you giggled nervously and decided to focus on eating your dinner.

The rest of the evening went by okay. Little comments like that would have you unsure if there were ulterior motives, but when you’d try to look into it you’d see a happy smile from your date. Maybe he really was just joking, and was nervously trying to make you laugh.

When it was time to go, Daishou paid for the both of you and you left the restaurant together.

It was dark outside and pouring rain. You sighed, looking down the street at the empty bus stop. The bus wouldn’t be coming for another 20 minutes.

“Let me wait with you for the bus.” He smiled, wrapping an arm around your waist again. “I wouldn’t want you out here all alone.”

You reluctantly accepted but tried to keep your distance. While his arm was around you, your arms were crossed and you were trying to stay as far from him as possible. Something was off, and you wanted to get as far away from him as quickly as possible.

You sent your brothers a quick text to let them know which bus you’d be on.

“Let’s wait over here. Out of the rain.”

Before you could reply, he grabbed your hand and yanked you down a small alley. It was covered by the overhead of the buildings roof, but was pitch black.

“I had a nice time tonight.” Daishou purred, pressing his body against you and trapping you against the cold brick wall.

“Yeah, me too…” You said quietly.

Only a few more minutes.

Daishou leaned down, trailing his hand up your chest and wrapping his long fingers around your throat. Your breath hitched and you felt tears well up in your eyes. You knew something was wrong. You knew something was going to happen. Your gut feeling was never wrong.

You tensed up, preparing to punch him the moment you felt pressure from his fingers. Instead of choking you, however, his hand rested gingerly on your skin and he leaned down to kiss you.

You kissed back, completely uninterested but not wanting him to know that.

“So, you are easy.” He smirked against your lips. He grabbed your hands and held them against the wall. His tongue started to force its way into your mouth and as you tried to break away, his body pressed into you harder, making you unable to move.

“Please stop,” you whimpered, “I don’t- I don’t want this.”

“Just relax.” He dug his fingers into your wrist, holding both of your hands together with just one of his, and using his free hand to move down your body and fondle your chest.

“Daishou- I-“ you gasped when he bit down on your neck. It didn’t feel good at all, and was just a swearing pain.

“You know, it really is a shame that you’re related to those two.” He muttered against your skin. “You’re a pretty girl. Probably would’ve liked you had your shitty brothers not have been such dicks.”

“Please, please just get off-“ You sniffled. You fought your brothers all the time, so why couldn’t you get him off? Why were you tensing up? Why were you crying? Just push him off, just push and run.

“Shut up.” He muttered. He slipped his hand into your pants and you let out a sob.

“No, no! Get off of me! Stop!” You were crying now, your voice getting louder as you attempted to break from his hold.

Unfortunately, he was just too strong for you. He smacked you across the face and pressed his palm to your mouth.

“I told you to shut up.” He growled. “Blame the twins for this.”

You were sobbing now. Completely terrified as this man assaulted your body in this dark alley and all you could think about was how badly you wanted to get out of there. How badly you wished your brothers had spied on you, how much you wanted them to protect you in that moment.

Daishou glared at you as your wails got louder, pulling back and slapping you across the face so hard you thought you were seeing stars.

“That’s what happens when stupid girls like you don’t listen. Now be quiet!”

Your vision was blurred and dark and you thought you were about to pass out when you felt the weight of his body completely lifted off of you.

You immediately felt relief, not in the form of safety by any means but you felt like you could somewhat breathe again. The blow he’d given you to the head had you feeling dizzy and you sunk to the ground against the wall.

“You fucking-“ *whack*

“piece-“ *whack*

“of shit!” *whack*

You squinted your eyes open at the familiar voice. The same voice that had annoyed you earlier that afternoon. The voice that immediately gave you a sense of safety in that dark alley.

“Suna..?” You barely managed to squeak out. You were sure he didn’t hear you considering you could barely hear your own voice.

“You’re going to regret this for the rest of your life.” Suna spat, landing another punch directly to his face. “If you have issues with someone, take it up with them like a fucking man.” He growled. “Instead of preying on their little sister. You’re pathetic.”

Suna stood up off the ground and all you could do was watch through squinted eyes and your knees pulled to your chest.

He pulled something out of his pocket, it shined under the street lamps and you weren’t sure what it was. He grabbed Daishou by the collar of his shirt, forcing him to stand up before pressing the object against his throat.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t just kill you right here.”

You closed your eyes, covering your face in your arms when you heard Daishou start to sob. He sounded like you did a few minutes ago.

“I’d go to jail for her, no questions asked. Trust me when I tell you that I won’t hesitate.”

Suna was much bigger than him. Stronger. Taller.

“Hey,” Suna growled, pushing him against the brick wall. Daishou looked as light as a rag doll when Suna was throwing him around. “Answer me when I’m talking to you.”

“Please- I don’t- I’m sorry-“ Daishou choked out.

Suna laughed. A completely genuine laugh that made your skin crawl.

“Are you? Are you sorry?”

You looked back up at the two men, closer to you now and you could see that the object Suna had against his throat was a knife.

“Suna, wait-“ You tried to say to him, but your voice was still shaky and quiet.

Daishou was sobbing now, tears flowing from his eyes and wails ripping from his throat.

“Not so tough when you’re the one on the receiving end, huh?” Suna glared, putting his knife back in his pocket and throwing Daishou back onto the ground.

“Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.” Suna said in a dark, low tone you hadn’t heard from him before. “And if you ever come near her again, I really will kill you.”

Daishou scrambled to his feet, holding his head and trying to stop the bleeding on his face that was surely from one of the rings Suna was wearing on his fingers.

You trembled against the wall, staring at Suna’s back as he watched Daishou leave. As soon as he was out of eyesight, he quickly turned to you and crouched down.

“Hey, it’s okay.” His voice softened, his gaze was kind and he hesitated before touching you. “Can I help you up? Can you stand?”

You nodded weakly and he crouched down, putting his arms under yours and standing you up. You could feel your legs wobbling and held onto his arm for support.

“Ugh,” He sighed, the pain in his voice coming through when he saw the true damage that’d been done to you. His hands carefully put you back together as best he could. He buttoned your shirt and pants back up, and shrugged off his jacket to put it on you instead.

You grabbed onto the sleeves and pulled them over your hands. It was even bigger than your brothers’ jackets, and you sunk into the soft material trying to grasp onto any little piece of comfort you could get.

Suna picked you up and held you against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he supported you from under your legs.

“How did you know where to find me?” You asked, your voice still quiet and strained.

“They told me what bus you were taking home so I came to make sure you got on okay. When it came and left without you I got worried and looked around, and then I heard you crying.” Suna let out a stressed out breath, “You know, I really would’ve done it.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” You said, closing your eyes. You couldn’t even process what had just happened and didn’t know what you would’ve done if Suna wasn’t with you right now.

——

Suna’s house was only down the road, and you agreed to go there and get cleaned up before heading back home.

“Here,” Suna handed you a pair of comfortable pants and a t-shirt. “They’ll be way too long on you, but it’s better than your soaking wet clothes you’re wearing now.”

“Thanks…” you accepted the offer, stepping into the bathroom to change.

When you came out, Suna had changed too, but his eyes widened with shock when he saw the extent of your injuries.

He swore under his breath and approached you. When he reached out and touched your neck, his cool hand soothed the sting of the deep bite Daishou had embedded in your neck.

“Can’t believe he fucking bit you.” Suna’s voice was so quiet he was practically whispering, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or just thinking out loud. He trailed his hand around your throat and pressed his fingers on the deep bruises forming from when you’d been choked.

“That helps,” you sighed, leaning into his touch. Suna pulled his hand back as if he wasn’t even aware he’d been touching you.

“What do you want to do now? Should we call Osamu and Atsumu? Want me to take you home?” He placed his hands on your shoulders and continued looking you over. Suna brushed your hair out of the way, inspecting your face closely and grunting when he looked straight on at the black eye starting to appear.

You winced when his thumb grazed over the side of your head and he immediately pulled back.

“You were hit really hard. You should go to the hospital.”

You shook your head. “I don’t… I don’t want to go anywhere. Not right now, anyway.” You stepped over to his bed, sitting on the edge. “Can I just lie down?”

Suna nodded and pulled the blankets open, gesturing for you to crawl into his bed. He pulled the blankets on top of you and patted your arm.

“I’m just going to go into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I’ll shut the light off so you can rest a bit.”

The moment you couldn’t feel his presence in the room anymore, your mind travelled back to where you were earlier that night. Being attacked in a dark alley and suddenly you were feeling suffocated.

You sat up, gasping for air and Suna ran in, turning the light on and sitting next to you.

“Its okay, it’s okay,” He murmured, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into him. He stroked your hair and let you cry out your fear as long as you needed to.

“I don’t…” You sniffled, “I don’t know what happened. When you left I just felt so scared all over again.”

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, pressing his cheek against the top of your hair.

“Please don’t leave me alone.”

Suna nodded and stood up to go turn the light off again.

“Wait, where are you going?” You felt the panic start to take over again when the bed dipped down beside you.

“I’m right here.” His voice was kind. The Suna you’d known to always tease and annoy you had been replaced by something you could only describe as being your safety net.

Maybe this side of him was always here, and you just hadn’t ever noticed.

You laid back down beside him, moving close and nuzzling into his chest just like you had when he was carrying you. He wrapped his arms around you and softly trailed his hand up and down your back.

“I’ve got you, okay?” He whispered, “You’re safe with me. I promise. Just try and get some rest and we can worry about everything in the morning. You’ve been through enough tonight.”

You nodded and felt the relief wash over you. You knew you had a lot to deal with tomorrow, but having Suna by your side made it seem a little less scary.

Thinking back, he always was by your side. He would defend you when the twins would get too rough, and was definitely guilty of giving guys an intimidating glare when they’d try to hit on you.

You sighed, soaking in the feeling of his warmth.

You knew that from them on, you wanted nothing more than to be on his side.

And for him to stay on yours.

485 notes · View notes

scuttling · 3 years

Text

Badass Wife

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 3,297 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Daddy kink, Dom/sub, Dirty talk, Unprotected sex, Rough sex, 69, Come eating/sharing, Oral sex, Fingering, Subspace, Aftercare, Semi-public sex Summary: Just some kinky Dad Bod Hotch 🤤 Continuation of "Trophy Husband" *Requested by anon.

Link to AO3 or read more below! “Is that my beautiful wife I hear?” Aaron calls from upstairs as you enter the foyer. You hang up your jacket, set your bag on the bench by the door, kick off your shoes, and head up the stairs.

“It’s me, where are you?” you call, and he sticks his head out of the home office with a grin you just have to kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he hums against your lips, deepens the kiss so you break apart feeling hungry. “Hello, handsome.”

“Hello, gorgeous. Remind me again how you were able to get the afternoon off?”

“I told them I had an appointment,” you say with an innocent shrug. “I didn’t specify that it was a dick appointment; do you think I should have?” Aaron laughs, something full and lovely, and you can’t help but smile. You love when you’re able to make him laugh; that feeling is second only to loving when you’re able to get him hard without so much as a touch.

“No, probably not. We’ll just keep that as our little secret,” he whispers in your ear, and you shiver instantly. “Daddy has plans for you. Do you want to hear them?” You swallow, nod your head. “I thought you might. Everything we do we’re going to do on that couch right there.” He nods to the small gray sofa in the office, which you’ve had many orgasms on throughout its time there.

Even after being married for more than a decade, your hottest fantasies are still the ones where Aaron is your boss and you do dirty, naughty things in his office—even becoming the unit chief yourself, the highest position you’ve ever held, doesn’t stop you from wanting to be his needy little subordinate, a desperate slut who would do anything to please her superior.

“First, I want you to lay on top of me with your pretty pussy in my face. You’ll suck on my cock for as long as you can, but I know you get distracted easily, baby; you’re just a horny mess when daddy eats your pussy, aren’t you?” He slides his hand between your legs, over the thin fabric of your usual black dress pants, and you squirm in his embrace, whine a little.

“Yes, daddy. I try my best, but I get too distracted by your mouth, so you just let me lay there and feel good.”

“That’s right, baby. You know I like to take care of you.” You nod, because that’s something you both love, and he moves to unbutton your pants, to untuck your white button up and slowly open it, his thick fingers purposefully avoiding your skin. “Maybe this time you can kiss my stomach, since you liked that so much last week. You liked kissing my stomach so much that you made a mess on daddy’s thigh, didn’t you baby?”

You close your eyes, reliving that night of super hot sex and again feeling a little embarrassed at that fact that you’d rubbed off against his leg. He loved it, though, has brought it up more than once since then, so it makes sense that it would be part of his fantasy now.

“Yes, daddy, I was messy, but I love your stomach; I want to kiss it again.” He gets your top off, unhooks your bra, and kisses a wet trail from your neck to your lower belly as he crouches to take off your pants.

“Good girl. I’m going to let you. Then, when you’re nice and wet for me, I’m going put you over the arm of the couch and fuck you while you beg for more. You’ll beg to come again, baby, because you’re so needy when you’re on daddy’s cock, and if you’re good, I’ll let you. If you’re bad, I’ll fill up your pussy and not let you come at all.”

“I’ll be good, daddy; I’ll be so good for you.” He smiles up at you from his position in front of you, and even though he’s on his knees, he has all the power, as always. He knows it, too, looks a little smug.

“Oh, I know you will, sweetheart. You always are.” He slides your panties down, leans up to take one soft, teasing taste between your legs that makes you sigh, and then he makes a noise of contemplation, leans back. “Actually, we’re going to change that up a little. I want to fuck you first. Do you want to know why?”

“Why daddy?” He started getting you off first during sex back when you started dating, because having an orgasm under your belt made things easier, a little smoother when it came time for penetration; it’s not a requirement, but something you’re both used to, so you’re curious why he’s switching it up now, though you know the reason must be good.

“Because I’m not coming inside you, I’m coming on my stomach so you can clean it up. You’ll like licking daddy’s come off his stomach, won’t you, good girl?” You take a rough breath, lightly nibble your bottom lip. There’s a reason this man has ruined you for all other men—many, many reasons, really, but this one’s up there.

“Oh, yes, daddy, I’ll really like that.” He rises to his feet, fully dressed where you’re bare naked, and you work quickly to get his pants off, his underwear down while he shrugs out of his t-shirt. “I’m ready, I’m really ready,” you say, which means let’s forget the foreplay and get straight down to business. Aaron smirks, because you both love foreplay, but sometimes one or both of you are too fucking horny for it, and he probably knew that talking about you licking him clean would get you there.

“Oh, you are, baby? You think you can handle daddy’s big cock already?” He gets his hands around your waist and you know what he wants; you jump into his arms and kiss, hot and steamy and sensual, scraping your neatly trimmed nails across his back. “Okay, let’s see, sweetheart. Be good for me.”

You’re used to being bent over the arm of the couch, either for spanking or oral or to be fucked—it’s a thick arm, comfy, short, which is probably the reason Aaron chose it in the first place. He always buys new furniture with sex in mind, which is easily in the top ten hottest things about him.

Today is different, though, because he doesn’t bend you over; he walks both of you over to the sofa and eases your body against the cushions, in the corner. Your head and shoulders are on the couch and your ass is up on the arm, your legs in the air. Your Aaron—always innovative. He wraps both hands around one of your thighs and pushes into you; it’s a little bit of a stretch, since you didn’t prepare, but nothing you haven’t worked through before.

“Good girl,” he praises, and you tip your head back, moan, as he starts pounding his cock inside you, his grip tightening on your thigh. You press one of your hands against the couch for leverage, bring the other to rub at your pussy, and stare up at him as he fucks you, breathing hard, his belly shaking a little with each hard thrust against you. Your tits are bouncing too, and your moans grow louder, longer; he’s giving it to you so good, just like always, and you feel slutty in this position, sexy, as he uses your body.

“Oh, daddy, yes, daddy,” you breathe, rubbing over your pussy, spreading your wetness around the hard shaft of his cock. He groans at your touch, fucks harder, and it feels like he brings you off in no time, calling his name and clamping tight around him. When it’s over, you sink against the sofa, closing your eyes and catching your breath. His big hands move to your tits, squeezing them roughly, earning a ragged whimper, and then he lifts you up, holds you in his arms, whispers how good you did, how beautiful you are.

“Time for the rest,” he says after a minute or two, and he sets you on your feet, lays back on the sofa, and helps you climb on top of him. He pulls your soaked pussy close to his face, spreads your ass with his hands and licks at you where you’re sensitive; you jolt forward, which puts his cock in your face, and you hum, wrap your hand around it, and start to suck. “Mmm, fuck, baby,” he says, making wet sounds as he mouths at your lips, and you take him deep, hollow your cheeks, and suck hard at a medium pace. If you were trying to get him off quickly, you’d go for fast and shallow, but he likes when you draw it out as much as you can most of the time.

Moaning around his cock is always a great way to get him to eat you a little sloppier when you’re in this position, and you like sloppy, like the way you feel when your wet sounds echo in the room. You both work to get each other off this way for a few minutes, but eventually you’re too close again, and you’re hazy, unfocused, your mouth and hand moving at a lazy, irregular pace.

Aaron groans, and you’re sure your mouth is wetter around him, so it probably feels awesome even if it’s not moving exactly the way he’d like. He moves one hand off of your ass, slides it up between your bodies, and encourages you to lift off of him; you do, sitting up a little, hands pressed to his thighs, and he wraps his hand around his cock and jerks it, which is so sexy and you love to see it, can’t stop watching him.

“Mmm, come daddy, come on your belly for me daddy, please, daddy,” you ramble, fuzzy and eager to come and to lick his come and do whatever he asks you to. “Hungry, let me.” That does it, and he climaxes, thighs tensing beneath your hands. He comes in hot spurts all over his stomach, dripping into his belly button, clinging to the trail of hair, and you lean forward like the greedy slut you are, swiping your tongue over him, dipping it inside his belly button to scoop it into your mouth.

You’re moaning like a whore, licking and kissing his stomach, his salty, tangy come on your lips and your cheek, and he leans up, pulls you toward him, his eyes dark and hard and sexy. He grabs your chin hard, makes you whine, and you meet in the middle for a kiss; it’s wet and messy, his come makes its way from your mouth to his, and his tongue tastes like you, and you want to get off again so bad your pussy aches with need.

“Oh please oh please,” you beg against his lips, and he moves you so you’re laying along his body again, your head between his legs. He presses his fingers inside you, two and then three, pumping them in quick and deep until you’re coming all over them, hands on his thighs, wailing and trembling in his grasp. He licks you up, licks you clean, and pulls you close for another dirty kiss, your come in your mouth this time. It’s only fair.

You’re like dead weight on top of him, fucked-out and barely functional, and he lifts you off, pulls you into his arms, and takes you to your master bathroom so he can draw you both a bath while you curl into warm, happy subspace. You sink into hot, foamy water, your back against his chest, and he kisses your neck, murmurs his love and admiration, holds you close until finally drift back to him.

“Love you,” you murmur, and he turns your face toward his for a soft, sweet kiss.

“Love you, sweetheart. Perfect girl.”

When you’re done soaking, you rinse off, dry off, and slip into one of his t-shirts and a pair of his boxers; he pulls on boxers only, and you follow him downstairs for some lunch, can’t help the way your eyes roam over his bare torso while he moves about the kitchen. Somehow—you’re really not sure how—you ended up with the hottest husband in the universe, and you prop your elbow up on the counter, rest your chin in your hand, and marvel over how wonderful life has become. A few days later, you’re sitting in your office waiting for your 1:00 appointment, which Anderson had scheduled for you without explaining in the slightest, when you hear Derek say, “Hey, man!” You walk to your doorway and see Aaron and Derek shaking hands down in the bullpen. Aaron is looking extremely delicious in a criminally tight polo and khakis—he must have gone golfing before coming over, one of the many perks of retirement—and you’re suddenly feeling ravenous.

You absently wonder if you can move your appointment, and then you put two and two together and grin.

“If you’re my 1:00, you’re early,” you call down, arms crossed in front of you, and he turns to look at you in such a way that you can practically feel your panties disintegrate. He manages to shoot you a private look that lets you know you’re in for something special, then schools his expression to something fit for public consumption within the same second.

“Maybe I missed you.”

“Maybe you missed Derek,” you tease, and your phone rings, so you head back to your desk. It’s a sheriff in Alabama, someone who heard from someone else about the BAU and is practically demanding that your team comes down to help with a case.

You’re in the middle of politely standing your ground when Aaron slips into your office, shuts and locks the door behind him. You’re a little angry at the douchebag on the phone, so you’re hot already, but he gives you a look that only makes you hotter.

“I appreciate the circumstances, sheriff, believe me, but we can’t consult on every single homicide case your department faces. There are requirements that need to be met.”

Aaron walks around your desk with purposeful strides, and you look up at him, ready to roll your eyes in regards to the conversation, but… he gets on his knees, turns you and your chair to the side, and then sticks his hands up your dress and yanks your panties down. Your free hand grabs the armrest, and it’s all you can do not to gasp out loud.

He grins, the bastard, and then mouths payback.

Okay, that’s fair. You’ve sucked him off in this office at inconvenient times more often than you can count.

He guides your ass to the edge of the seat, lifts your legs to hook them over his shoulders, and puts his head under your skirt.

“Uh huh, absolutely,” you breathe into the receiver. “I’m not trying to downplay what your community is going through at all; it’s very unfortunate.”

You do feel bad, but it’s hard to sound properly sympathetic when your husband has two fingers and his face buried in your pussy. He fucks them into you fast and smooth and you squeeze your eyes shut, take a deep breath.

“Maybe I can recommend your case to the organized crime unit at the—the Birmingham field office, if you think it's gang-related.” You tuck the phone between your ear and shoulder and reach down, fisting your hands into this hair, tugging roughly in retaliation. It doesn’t really count, you guess, when he enjoys it. “Yes, I have your number here. I’ll pass the information along and they’ll be in touch. Mmm—maybe, maybe they’ll be able to help. Okay, will do. Uh huh. Goodbye.” As soon as you hear the dial tone, you let the phone fall away and you arch your back, groan aloud, but not too loud. JJ’s office is next to yours now, and you’ll never hear the end of it if she hears any of it.

“Are you alright, baby?” Aaron asks, peeking out from beneath your skirt, his lips wet, and you close your eyes, lick your lips.

“Fuck you,” you mutter, no heat at all to your words, and he pulls his fingers out; your eyelids flutter open, and he sucks on his own fingers, licking you off of them. You groan again, and he smirks.

“If you insist.” He moves to stand, leans over you, and you wrap your arms around his neck, let him lift you into his strong arms. He holds you with one arm—one perfect arm—and pushes your paperwork to one side, then lays you back on the desk and pushes up your dress. He undoes his belt, unbuttons and unzips those fucking khakis, and then guides himself inside you; you groan together this time.

He plants his hands on either side of you, your thighs spread wide around his hips, and he fucks hard, holding you in place with his body. You wrap your hands around the edge of the desk and move against him, thighs jiggling against his, tits once again bouncing and barely confined by your dress.

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck. Fuck me, daddy, harder, daddy,” you murmur, overheated and wet and desperate to come, and Aaron grunts, leans further forward and pounds inside you, quick and deep and frantic. “Just like that, just like that.”

“You might be the boss, but you’re not my boss,” he reminds you with a wink, and you sigh, reach up to touch his face.

“Baby, I’m absolutely the boss of you; everywhere but the bedroom.” He licks his lips, brings a hand up to squeeze your tits, and you move your hands to his waist, digging your fingers into that polo that fits his new body so well. “Mmm, gonna come all over your cock, daddy,” you say, looking up at him, and he grits his teeth, comes, which makes you want to come; a few more pumps of your hips against his and you do, loudly.

His hand comes up to cover your mouth, and you moan into it; when you’re appropriately silent, he moves it to your clit, still railing you like you didn’t just both get off five seconds ago, and after a couple of minutes your pussy can’t take it, and you come again, loud on purpose so his big hand will shut you up.

You curl together and kiss, wrapping your legs around his ass so he’ll stay inside you, sharing breath while you try to calm down; you sweep your hands over his arms and chest and sides, humming happily.

“Why did you make an appointment to come see me today?” you murmur, blissful and dopey, and he smiles, reaches behind you for your nameplate and rests it on your stomach.

“Because I realized we hadn’t christened this office since it became your office, and I felt it was long overdue.”

“Very long overdue,” you agree, and you cuddle until it’s time to get ready for your next meeting. You both clean up quickly and then Aaron walks you downstairs so you can hit the restroom before your next appointment. He kisses you soft and slow, tells you he loves you before he goes.

You meet your 2:00 in the lobby, walk them up to your office—which you’ve aired out, you think—and ask them to take a seat. When you walk around to your chair, you see your panties on the ground, panic internally for a moment, and then kick them under your desk with a heel and offer your visitor a perfectly normal smile. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x female reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfic #dad bod hotch #request #anon

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e-vasong · 4 years

Text

I’ve already talked about a Leverage crossover where the Hargreeves are conmen but I'm. losing it thinking about. a Leverage AU where the Leverage team sees these kids on tv, and they just go. oh shit, that’s just fucking wrong. (I know the timelines don’t match up but let’s pretend the umbrella kids were born a little later, or that Leverage takes place a little earlier, or something like that. I don’t know.)

But these fucking umbrella kids show up on TV, and at first none of them are paying much attention. Not right away. They’re busy running cons, and none of them except Hardison watch TV for fun very often.

So they’ve all heard bits and pieces about this Umbrella thing, and aren’t quite sure what to make of it. Superhumans, huh? Eliot mutters at one point. Whatever. Our lives are already so goddamn weird.

But eventually they catch a broadcast while they’re home in between cases. it’s playing in the background while they’re enjoying a meal together at the brewery.

The Umbrella Academy saves the day yet again! the broadcaster declares cheerily. We go now to a statement at the Louvre from their leader, Sir Reginald Hargreeves.

It’s just novel enough to catch their attention--being who they are, they all perk up at the word Louvre--and it gets them half-watching as they chat over breakfast.

It’s Parker that sees it first. She’s Parker, so what catches her attention is actually not the fact that one of them is covered in blood, nor is it the fact that their father is calling them by numbers instead of names. It’s the way that they stand, tense and upright. It’s the way that the one covered in blood is trembling minutely, so fine that it’s almost imperceptible. But she notices. And she notices the way that the one to the bloodied boy’s left--the fifth one in line--leans over ever-so-subtly when their father is looking away. Whispers something with the barest movement of his lips. And then, after a moment of hesitation, he links hands with his shaking brother, twining their fingers together. Parker knows that whisper, knows what this is. She used to do that with her brother. Used to hold Nick’s hand, just like that, when their fosters were scaring him, trying to provide comfort even despite the fear of being caught.

It’s not long before the others follow her gaze. She’s stopped engaging in the conversation entirely, is just staring at the television with a death glare, nose wrinkled.

“Parker, baby,” Hardison says. “That’s your angry face.”

“I’m angry,” she says, and doesn’t elaborate.

“Got it,” Hardison takes it in stride, as he always does.

Eliot’s frowning at the TV. Unlike Parker, his eye does jump to the most obvious thing first. To the boy, no older than eleven or twelve probably, drenched head to toe with blood. There’s no rips in his clothing; Eliot’s pretty sure the blood isn’t his. He’s standing up straight, but his shoulders are slightly hunched. Like he’s injured. Broken ribs, maybe? And he’s been taught to hide them too. He’s also not the only one with that too-stiff posture. These kids aren’t standing up straight. They’re standing at attention. Number One, their father calls one of them, and what are those? Fucking callsigns?

Sophie and Nate are watching too. Their faces are carefully blank. They aren’t happy, Parker’s pretty sure, but they’re trying not to react.

“What the hell?” Hardison says slowly. He’s the last one to catch on, though only by a very narrow margin. He lacks Sophie and Nate’s cynicism, and the years of personal experience Parker and Eliot have, but he’s still too smart to not figure it out almost immediately. And he is first one to abandon the stunned stillness that’s fallen over the rest of them, pulling his laptop out of his bag, already quickly tapping away at the keys.

“This ain’t right,” Eliot says, voice a growl in his chest. “This is--this is--it’s televised child abuse.”

Sophie makes a quiet noise of agreement then. “It is,” she says, quietly disgusted. “Those poor children.”

Nate is still staring at the screen, lips pressed flat.

“This Reginald guy looks rich,” Parker says. Then: “Can we kill him?”

Eliot chokes on his drink.

“How is this even legal?” Sophie asks. She sounds curious, though not particularly surprised by the grievous violation of child protection laws before her. “It’s so...blatant.”

“Sir Reginald Hargreeves,” Hardison says, no longer typing. “He is--oh shit.” And the typing resumes, faster and a little more panicked than before.

“Hardison?” Nate prods after a moment, giving Hardison a sidelong glance.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all good,” Hardison says. “The INTERPOL files on this guy are locked up tight though. Almost tripped their security system there. I didn’t, of course, but--”

“You couldn’t get in?” Eliot says, smirking.

“Yet,” Hardison says. “Dammit, man, it’s been less than five minutes. Give me a couple hours and that thing is mincemeat. Metaphorically speaking, of course. But I do see what’s going on here and,” he clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment. “Y’all, this is hinky.”

“Yes, I think we got that,” Nate says. The corner of his lip twitches up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hardison says. “This guy has got friends everywhere. No one knows how he got the kids, but it looks like he technically bought them--”

“He what?” Sophie sounds like she’s been suckerpunched. Parker can’t think of the last time she heard Sophie sound so shocked.

“Oh yeah. You think that’s bad? The numbers aren’t code names The numbers are their name names. Like, legally. I just found an article that said he ordered them by how useful he thinks they are, but judging by the adoption papers it was actually in the order he, uh,” Hardison coughs, “acquired them.”

Eliot is swaying where he stands. “Common tactic. He’s pitting them against one another so they’ll be easier to control. It undermines the self worth of the ones lower on the scale and makes the ones that are higher up feel obligated to do what he wants. Son of a bitch.”

“...And it looks like he leveraged their powers as excuse to gain exemptions from child protection laws,” Hardison continues like he hasn’t been interrupted. “Claimed their abilities meant they don’t need the same safeguards.”

“That’s bullshit!” Eliot sounds thunderous.

“I know, buddy,” Hardison reaches over blindly, waving his hand around vaguely until he finds Eliot’s shoulder. He gives it a comforting squeeze. “I didn’t write it.”

Eliot heaves in a shuddering breath. “That’s just--”

“Evil,” Sophie finishes.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Nate says. He’s not watching the TV anymore. He’s staring off into the middle distance, arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh!” Parker perks up. All the grief and distress that had been brewing on her face vanishes like storm clouds parting for the sun. “Nate! Nate, are you scheming? You look like you’re scheming.”

Nate makes a noncommittal grunt. “It would be dangerous.”

“They’re in danger,” Sophie says softly, jerking her head in the television’s direction.

Eliot’s long-since gotten to his feet. He’s pacing, and that’s how Parker knows he’s furious. When Eliot is too angry to stand it, he has to move, has to find some way to handle the rage roiling under his skin. Usually he cooks, chopping vegetables with furious aplomb. And when he can’t cook, he paces.

“They’re fucking child soldiers,” he says. “I can’t--” he cuts himself off with a furious shake of the head. I can’t believe, he was about to say, Parker thinks, but he had to stop because that’s not true. Eliot knows better than anyone what the government--what the world does to people they find useful, whether its skill or power that makes them so.

“Y’all are behind,” Hardison says in sing-song. “I’m already trying to burn this motherfucker down.”

“Hardison, do not tip our hand,” Nate says, snapping into his leader-voice automatically. Parker grins. He’s already got a plan, then. She knew all that reluctance was just for show. Sophie laughs, as clear and bright as the ringing of a bell, and even Eliot perks up.

Hardison grumbles, closing his laptop and stuffing it back in his messenger bag.

Nate is grinning a little too, though it’s that angry smile he gets sometimes when Parker knows he’s thinking about hurting bad people. She understands. She's wearing hers too right now. Nate glances them all over, and for all the malice dripping off the knife’s edge of that smile, his eyes are soft. Maybe even a little proud.

“Fine. Fine. You guys win,” Nate says, lifting his hands in defeat. He’s putting on a show of being beleaguered, but Parker can hear the sparking anger in his voice, and oh, how could she have forgotten? Sophie is so gently righteous, Hardison so achingly distressed, and Eliot so full of fire and fury that she almost didn’t notice Nate’s seething wrath, nearly forgot that Nate looks at every injured child in need of help and thinks of Sam. “Everyone, get your things. Hardison, get us some plane tickets. Let’s go steal some children.”

“Okay, okay. I ain’t complaining cause, like, fuck that guy,” Hardison says, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “But stealing children? Could you have made us sound anymore like kidnappers?”

“Hardison!”

“I’m just saying.”

#tua #the umbrella academy #leverage #my writing #this is kind of garbage but i cant stop thinking about it!!!

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ohbuckie · 3 years

Text

FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT II

college!bucky x fem!reader (first part isn’t a necessary read prior to this one) summary: bucky fucks you in the back of his car at a drive-in. warnings: smut, semi public sex, implication that reader has hair long enough to pull word count: 2k masterlist

(pls dm me for credit or removal of this gif)

Your hand is on Bucky’s thigh.

It’s customary for the boyfriend’s right hand to be on the girlfriend’s left thigh, but his only real hand is occupied by the steering wheel, and he can’t hold the wheel with only his prosthetic. So, you fill the role, fingers tapping against the inside of his muscular right leg.

He looks pretty when he drives—with his arm outstretched to display his sculpted muscles. His hair is fluffy and shiny and soft, and his lips confidently mouth the lyrics to the songs that play through the car. He was wearing sunglasses before the sun disappeared below the horizon, and they’re now atop his head, holding his hair away from his forehead, with the exception of a stubborn strand that dangles between his eyebrows.

You stare down at Bucky’s phone, held by your free hand, adding music to his Spotify queue. Just enough to bring you to where you’re going. “How much longer?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe ten minutes.”

It takes twelve.

He pulls the car between two posts in the very center of the dirt lot, parking it and unlocking the doors so that you can hop out. While he sits in the front and tunes the radio to the channel indicated on the slip of paper that the teenage girl at the front booth gave you, you spread out the plush blankets and soft pillows, making the trunk—and backseat, with all of the seats down—mostly habitable, at least for a few hours. Pillows are pushed against the backs of the front seats, a small blanket covering the area beneath you, leaving the comforter that he brought from his bed against the side to be put over your laps once you’re both ready to sit.

It’s already dark, and the cold air bites at your nose, nips at your fingertips. Bucky turns the headlights off and climbs over the center console, laying over the setup you’ve created. You lift yourself into the trunk, kicking off your shoes onto the ground beside the car, settling beside him. He looks at his phone for the time, and announces that the movie won’t start for another ten minutes.

He says it with a suggestive smirk and a hand on your waist, and you roll your eyes playfully just before he captures your lips with his. You lay on your back with your arms around his neck as he hovers over you, leaning on one elbow and using his other arm to hold you close to himself. Your fingers twirl around the thick hair at the back of his head, dark brown and intentionally unkempt.

“I’m not doing this during the movie, you know.” You breathe against him, and he pulls away.

“Why not?”

“We paid thirty dollars to get in here. We can shove our tongues down each others’ throats at home.”

“Then we should probably get it all out now.” He doesn’t wait for a response before kissing you again, hand slowly trailing down your back to grab your ass. The old-timey drive-in commercials play in the background of the hot, wet kisses that he delivers to your mouth, and your jaw, and your throat. He sucks a mark into the side of your neck, most definitely too high to cover with the collars on any of the shirts that you own.

The screen goes black suddenly and the opening sequence starts; a rumbling storm, birds chirping, Echo and the Bunnymen. He sighs, pecking your lips a last time and letting you shift to get more comfortable. For you, that means pushing your back against his chest and pulling the thick blanket over the two of you, putting your hand over his, which rests on your waist.

“All good?”

“Mm-hmm.” You put your arm under your head for a better angle of the big screen. He kisses the crown of your head sweetly.

It doesn’t take long for him to start fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. He pulls at the fabric, twists it, inches his fingers beneath it. You squirm in response to his cold touch, and feel him smile against your shoulder, soon finding your neck with his lips.

His fingers trail down your stomach and nestle underneath the waistband of your sweatpants—his sweatpants, actually—stopping to ask for permission.

You nod, but he makes a gentle demand. “Words, sweetheart.” “Do whatever you want.” You say softly, almost shyly.

His hand slides down your pants, teasing you over your panties. He presses his middle finger against your core, making you grind against him for more friction. With pressure on your clothed clit, he kisses down your neck, leaving goosebumps in his wake. His lips are dry from the chilly air, but his kisses are delicate.

He removes his hand and taps your lower lip with two of his thick fingers. You take them in your mouth, tongue slithering around them, coating them with saliva to help him out. They nearly touch the back of your throat when your lips reach the knuckle, and you pull off slowly when they’ve been properly lubricated.

He pushes his hand down the front of your underwear, finally making contact with your skin. His fingers are warm now, from being between your legs as well as in your mouth, and you’re grateful not to be shivering anymore. He rolls your clit between his fingers, moving down to your entrance to spread around your wetness, which is already abundant.

You inhale sharply when a fingertip probes you, slipping in carefully and letting you accommodate. “Bucky.”

“Gotta be quiet.” He reminds you, mouth against the shell of your ear.

“I know.” You squeak.

“Shut up, then.”

The words go straight to your center, making you tighten around him and swallow hard. He gives a couple of slow pumps. “Another?”

“Mm-hmm.” You whine, and he takes his hand out for a moment, pulling it from your pants. He shoves it in again, down the back this time, and stretches you around two of his fingers. You bring your hand to your mouth, biting on your sleeve to keep quiet. “Fuck.”

He moves his hand with purpose—which is, of course, to make you cum—while the giant screen in front of you plays a movie you’ve both seen before. You can hear the words in your head before the actors even say them: Oh, please, tell me, Elizabeth, how exactly does one suck a fuck? You want me to tell you? Please, tell me.

It takes your mind off of the fingers breaching your entrance; helps you last at least a little bit longer. He pushes and pulls, twists and curls, while you writhe beside him, trying desperately not to make any noise.

It makes an obscene noise—a wet slurp that serves as evidence of how quickly he can drive you crazy. “You’re so fucking wet.” He mutters against your cheek.

You swallow a moan, whining somewhat loudly. “Bucky.”

“Yeah?”

“Please fuck me.”

“You don’t wanna cum first?”

You shake your head. “I need you.”

He pulls his fingers out slowly, making sure you’re looking behind your shoulder at him when he sucks your taste off of them, releasing them from his mouth with a pop. He gets up on his knees, reaching to close the trunk for at least a little bit of privacy.

He tells you to get on your stomach in front of him, and he shoves a pillow beneath your pelvis to prop your hips up. With two hands, he yanks your pants and underwear down and over your ass, exposing you to him. You point your ass upwards, giving him a view of your wetness.

You hear rustling, and assume it’s him shoving his pants down his thighs. A crinkle and a rip alert you to the opening of a condom.

“You seriously had a condom in your pocket this whole time?”

“Of course I did.”

“You’re such a tool.”

“Yup.”

He spreads your ass and spits on your pussy, putting his painfully hard cock against your entrance. He pushes into you, bottoming out quickly and holding onto the driver’s seat for leverage.

“Fuck.” He whispers.

“Shit, Buck.”

He pulls his hips back, far enough so the head of his cock threatens to slip out, before slamming forward again. You slap a hand over your own mouth, feeling him find his rhythm.

It’s safe to assume that everyone around you knows what you’re doing. With the trunk closed and the inside lights off, they can’t see anything, but the SUV wobbles on its suspension in the loose dirt and alerts everyone of your activities. You try to keep quiet, because nobody needs further confirmation that you’re being had in the trunk.

This position makes it easier for him to hit all the right spots—more specifically, the one deep inside of you that makes your legs shake and your toes curl. The stretch you feel with every thrust stings only a little bit, but doesn’t hurt. You always need a minute to get used to him, anyway.

You moan quietly, lips sealed, and arch your back so that you’re pushing back into him.

“You’re so tight like this.” He says, and rests his metal hand on your lower back.

“Bucky-y.” You whine, unable to conceptualize any other words.

“Lift up your hips up for me.” He requests. “On your knees.”

You do as he asks, bracing your hands on the floor in front of you when you rise to your knees. He puts a foot up to balance himself after he removes his hand from the seat and grabs hold of you, using your hips like handles to hold onto while he slams into you barbarically.

He pulls you backwards with every thrust, but your clothes—still covering as much as possible, since it’s cold and this was meant to be a quickie—muffle the sound of you hitting against each other. It’s only a soft clapping; much more innocent than the usual slapping of damp skin that’s shared between you.

You hear his necklace jingle with every movement—a ball chain with a pendant on it that reads your first name, hammered crookedly into a circle of aluminum, letter by letter, with a small mallet and metal stamps. It hits his clothed chest and rings like a bell as a sort of reminder to you that it’s him who’s making you feel this good.

You feel him tangle his flesh fingers in the hair close to your scalp, balling up his fist and tugging. You moan, and he allows himself to do the same, all the while holding your head back at an uncomfortable angle.

“I’m close.” He mumbles, releasing your hair suddenly and quickly finding your clit. He briefly pulls away and spits on his fingers, pressing against you again, this time letting his saliva cover you. He rolls the sensitive part between his fingers, and soon starts tracing circles. They’re small, and fairly gentle, at first, but he quickly heats things up. He adds more pressure, and increases the size of the circles that he draws like his life depends on it.

Your breathy moans that you try hopelessly to conceal grow louder with every passing second, and you’re soon being dropped over the edge. Your head drops between your shoulder while you cum, and you clench around him unwillingly, triggering his own release. His hips falter and he spills into the condom, staying inside of you until he’s milked dry.

When he’s ready, he pulls out, ties up the condom, tosses it in the bag of trash that he keeps dangling from the shifter in the front seat. He pulls your pants back over your ass, and does the same to his own, waiting for you to maneuver yourself around to face him so he can kiss you.

It’s much gentler than the sex was, and his pink mouth seems to melt against yours while he holds your face, breath fanning over your cheek. You pull away, glancing at the foggy windows, dripping with evidence of your actions.

“Let’s get outta here.”

“Is that you asking for round two?”

“Uh-huh.” He smiles. “Just not in the car. My knees hurt.”

“Tell me about it.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Legs

Pairing | Brie Larson x reader

Summary | your housemate Brie wants to be left alone so that she can focus on doing yoga, however, you want her to pay attention to you.

Warnings | includes smut, tribbing, sexual tension, mouth spitting, swearing

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Situating her leg into a stretched position, Brie strained her muscles upon the yoga mat, positioning her arms in front of her, as her air pods played her playlist for these particular workouts.

Though, with her music blaring directly into her ear canal, she could not hear your footsteps streak through the hallway, as you carried the bag of groceries.

As you peeked into the living room, you licked your lips at the sight of your roommate, there was sweat straining in the dips of her muscles, and she absentmindedly licked some that was resting on the top of her lip.

Brie looked good, it had always been clear that she was fuelled by her work and career to stay in shape, but damn.

Tilting your head, your heart almost jumped out of your chest as her face turned towards you, surprised by her blatant expression that had seemingly sensed your presence all along.

Shaking your head, you left the room, going to put away the groceries, and take a cold drink of water, to cool yourself off, despite the lack of exercise that you had committed to.

As you were gulping and quenching your thirst that the sight of your roommate had brought on, you heard the kitchen door open, and in policy, you turned, watching as Brie damped her towel, and patted her forehead with it. It was as though she has forgotten that there was a bathroom just the room beside.

“It’s rude to stare y/n.” She cocked her brow at you, watching as you tensed up at her words. “If you wanted me to teach you yoga, you could have just asked.”

A smirk riddled its way onto her face, causing your breath to hitch, knowing that she was teasing you, and was getting a hell of a kick out of it.

“Yeah, that’s what I wanted.” You bit your lip, feeling your veins flush with surpassed embarrassment. “I have groceries to put away though, so maybe another time.”

“Or you could join me afterwards, and I can show you the way to bend your body into the correct positions. But if not, then I suggest you don’t disturb me again, otherwise it won’t be worthwhile.”

She reached into the paper bag, pulling out an apple, biting in it, before walking away with it in her hand, leaving you once more to your lonesome.

Altogether, her exit was a relief and a displeasure. You pondered on her previous words as you grabbed each individual item, putting it where it belonged, before you concluded yourself to a great decision.

You would accompany her in the ways of bodily art, and learn how to cope with seeing so much of her skin and restraining from doing anything rash.

You hung your coat up by the front door, before going to your room to change into more flexible attire. Brie did not seem surprised in the slightest to see that you had indeed taken her up on the offer, and chosen to join her.

“What do I do?” You asked her, paying much attention to the way she splayed her strong legs far behind herself, managing to balance her weight with their self forced partition.

In attempt, you tried to shadow her movements, copying them with your own limbs, you could only imagine how awkward you looked whilst doing so.

There was no coordination within your movements, which caused Brie to incessantly roll her eyes at you.

That made you more aware of what you were doing, and thus, you tried to change the direction of your knees, causing the blonde to audibly sigh.

“Let me help you, then we might actually get somewhere.” The actress insisted, collapsing her form so that she could sit beside you, as she grasped at your hips, roughly moving them to tilt upwards.

The action on her part caused a moan of emotional surrender to pivot out your lips, and once you realised what you had just done, your eyes went wide.

However, Brie remained the same, still touching you as she stroked her marvellous hands across your waist, that was slumping under her physical pressure.

“You have great structure, if you had been silent for the last few months, maybe I’d have noticed. Perfect for doing more than yoga.”

“Are you hitting on me?” The question came out as a sonorous gasp, Brie’s hands raking down to drag over your ass, causing you to lose your balance, and flop against the floor.

If the situation was any different, you were sure that you’d feel embarrassed though right now, you were more focused on how tentative she was treating your body.

It was no secret, that when you had first decided to room within the same residence, the two of you happened to clash. At first, you had thought it to be your personalities repelling each other’s, yet after time, it became clear that the two of you easily managed to frustrate the other.

And soon it became clear that such annoyance has turned into a sexual categorisation of stress, it flowering like a budding rose, naturally consuming itself in the air with its scent, although, the affects pricked like the rope of thorns, leaving you with a false facade of resentment towards the beauty of your two’s relationship.

“Always so naive, and I think instead of bracing me with various, pointless and dumb questions, you should do as I say, and keep quiet, unless you are moaning for me. Am I understood y/n?”

Biting back a whimper, you nodded, bracing yourself on your forearms as you rolled over to be on your back, closely watching her and whatever she had in mind.

“Take that sports bra off, it’s doing nothing for your figure.” Her tone was more of a snap, her penetrating eyes scouring into you as you did as she asked, lifting the article of clothing over your head, and tossing it onto her yoga mat.

Next your leggings were told to be dismissed of, causing you to become very aware of how you ahead decided to forgo panties, having priorly thought of how you it had entered your mind that it would be easier to move into tight and confusing positions if you were bare underneath.

And in some way you had been right, considering that you were being told to strip anyways. It seemed that Brie seemed rather impressed to see your cunt uncovered.

She licked her lips, and for a moment, you thought that she was going to move forwards, and eat you. But you found yourself to be rather wrong, when she pushed you down, and straddled you.

Her head moved down, suffocating your mouth with her own. Using her tongue, she pried past your lips, enforcing you to moan within her mouth, frowning as she leant back, only to grasp the sides of your mouth, and drop a bead of spit into it.

Without any hesitation, you swallowed, hardly keeping your mouth closed as she trailed her fingertips down, only to rub circles upon your clit, making your body writhe from the stimulated sensation. “Brie- fuck.”

“Want me to show you my favourite position?” She asked endearingly, and for just a second, you were confused, thinking that the two of you had moved past the concept of yoga.

And then you realised, when she unclothed herself, leaving you in a state of admirable awe, what the position was. Brie pushed your legs to acquire her body between, turning it to the side, as she raised her cunt directly over yours.

Slowly she lowered herself, situating her pussy against yours, both of your clits evoking a wave of sincere pleasure out of you. Her leg went over the top of your thigh, planting it on the ground beside, rutting her hips to blend your juices in a sweet matrimony.

“I always knew you’d feel this good.” Brie huffed, placing her hands upon both of your tits, one on each, to aid herself with leverage for her movements.

A slight sound could be heard, induced by the pressing of your cunts, as she rode your cunts, your lips spread open by her own. It coaxed noises of complete euphoria out of you, as you tugged on your own hair, almost pulling a few strands out.

“Holy shit Brie, so fuckin’ good. Mmm.” A light scream stumbled out of your moth afterwards, being a say all to you being close to reaching your peak.

“Be a good girl and cum. Cum you annoying bitch.” She squeezed your breasts harsher, bringing you somewhat pain, as you fell over the edge. “Good girl baby, so wet.”

She ground harder, until she too released upon your pussy, giving a couple more fluid motions until she moved off of you, pulling her juicy cunt away from your own, and rolling beside you, going to tug her clothes on. “We may have to practice yoga together more often.”

“Yeah.” You muttered, finally upholding your tight grasp upon your hair. It was a definite consumption to satisfy your frustration with her again, after all, you were roommates, and that meant plenty of opportunities.

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blondiebarnes · 3 years

Text

in the middle

summary: steve and bucky just got home from a tough mission, and you’re determined to make them feel good.

pairing: steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader

warnings: smut! threesome, male & female receiving oral, established relationship, cumplay, basically just porn

word count: 6.5k

For the most part, you’ve gotten used to being by yourself when Steve and Bucky are on missions.

You don’t like it - not in the slightest - it goes without saying that you’d love nothing more than to go on missions with them when they’re called in the dead of night but it hardly, if ever, works out that way. They’re nearly always sent together (Fury says they balance each other out, and you’re not exactly sure you know why or how but you’ve learned to accept whatever your director says at face value) and you’re generally excluded from their missions. They get too protective, can ignore the objectives of a mission when you’re in danger, and it’s a sweet sentiment but you know it’s an issue, even if you appreciate it.

And you are used to it. Really, you are. It’s been a year of having them called off in the middle of the night, leaving you sleeping in bed with a lingering kiss to your forehead as you dip out the door - occasionally they’ll wake you up (usually Bucky, because he tends to be a bit more sentimental, though he’d never dare to admit it) and give you a proper kiss, but for the most part you simply wake up in a too-large bed that’s void of the two super soldiers sandwiching you between their warm bodies, and it never fails to feel any more jarring.

That’s what happened Friday. You simply woke up on a day like any other and they were gone, leaving nothing but ruffled covers and a small sticky note pressed to your cell phone in Steve’s scribbled handwriting, telling you that it shouldn’t last more than the weekend and we love you so much and a small smiley face that looks to be more of Bucky’s doing, but you can’t be sure.

It had been a long weekend.

Movies and books and making dinner, and work had been so slow recently with no new missions on the come-up that you need to be called away on, so you’ve been primarily holed up in your apartment watching the time tick by and waiting for your boys to come home. You’d even called Nick at one point, in your boredom, to inquire about how their mission was going, and he told you (paraphrased, of course) that they were doing just fuckin’ great and should be home by Monday, and Monday couldn’t have fucking come any slower.

You’ve been lying awake for nearly three hours since you settled into bed on Sunday night, covers pulled tight against your chin to protect yourself from the January cold that nips at your skin, even after you’ve set the thermostat to 71 degrees. Steve likes it cold - Bucky warm - you laugh at the irony of it, much to the latter’s chagrin - and you prefer it being right in the middle.

The TV plays on mute a rerun of some old movie you’ve never heard of, black and white film running rickety slow and glitching, though you’ve long since given up paying attention to it. You’d been on Pinterest for an hour before getting bored and plugging your phone in on your nightstand, and you’d begun flipping through one of Steve’s favorite books he loves to read to you sometimes, and now - you simply gaze at the ceiling in your boredom, fingers interlocked on top of your stomach, boredom settling in every crevice of your body.

You’re not sure what, exactly, you’re waiting awake for. Not even sure if you’re waiting or simply unable to sleep - it feels like a 50/50 situation, at least at the moment - but there’s still something inherently wrong with sleeping in bed without your boys. Curling into Bucky’s chest while Steve is pressed to his back, the latter’s hand wrapped around to rest on your lip while a metal hand slides up your shirt, cupping your breast just to hear the way you squeal at the chill - or, alternatively, sandwiching yourself between them as Steve practically throws his mass on top of you and Bucky squishes your face into his hard back.

Empty. You feel empty, in more ways than one, and that’s what’s keeping you awake, you decide after a long fifteen minutes of contemplating on it. Your boys complete you. It’s not right without them -

Just as the thought crosses your mind, you hear the front door knob jiggling from across the apartment, and you jerk upright as though someone had doused you with freezing cold water (not that it would be much of an adjustment from the temperature your apartment feels, but the implication still stands.)

If you were smarter - or perhaps less groggy - maybe you’d dig through your nightstand for the gun you keep in case of any intruders, buried beneath notebooks and stray pieces of paper decorated with small smudged sketches that Steve puts on any smooth surface he can find. It’s loaded and ready to go - all you’d need to do is dig through and grab it, creep outside the bedroom door and take down whomever may be invading your home -

Just as you roll onto your side to dig through your drawer and find the weapon, the front door fully opens with a jingle of keys and the scuffling sounds of footsteps, and you pause, listening to the voices that roll through the apartment, hushed and breathy.

“Fuckin’ - tripped over my foot,” comes a familiar voice, louder than the one who follows right after him, murmuring for him to shut the hell up - are you trying to wake up the entire city? -

You’re out of bed faster than you can even process, covers mercilessly kicked to the very bottom of the bed in your haste. The hardwood is cold against your bare feet and the air bites at your skin, wearing nothing but one of Steve’s old t-shirts that falls to your mid thighs and a pair of lace panties that peeks out of the shirt when you bend over or reach up or do anything, really - it’s a bit of a scandalous look - but you pay no mind to it, opening the door and tearing down the hallway into the foyer.

You’ve smacked into a hard, thick body before you could stop yourself, arms thrown around Steve’s torso as you bury your face into his chest, and you can practically feel his deep laugh before you hear it but you do hear it, clear as day, and it brings a grin to your face that’s only deepened when Bucky tugs at your waist, pulling you into his back, arms wrapped around your stomach as he buries his face in your shoulder.

“Fury said you guys wouldn’t be home until tomorrow,” you tell them, letting your body relax into Bucky’s embrace as Steve traces his fingers across your jawline, tilting your head up so he can press one light kiss to your puckered lips. His arms snake around your waist, sandwiched between your back and Bucky’s chest, fingertips clutching tight onto the loose fabric of the shirt you’re donning and he uses it as leverage to hold you closer to him.

“It was an easy one,” Steve replies, leaning forward just a bit until you’re fully pressed between the two soldiers, your head squished into his chest as he inhales the scent of your shampoo, nose buried into the top of your head. “Can’t believe you called Fury about it - missed us that much, hmm?”

A dry chuckle jostles the body behind you, feeling Bucky’s warm laughter against your neck, and you bite on your bottom lip as you nod. “‘Course I missed you - don’t get cocky -” for you’d just caught sight of Steve’s smug grin, toying his lips upward, and you use the top of your head to push him away from you in mock disgust, leaning further into Bucky’s grasp. He hums softly, breath ruffling your hair, messy from your failed attempts to sleep. “S’so lonely here.”

“Aww,” murmurs Bucky, lips pressing warm kisses into the exposed expanse of your neck, and you tilt your head to the side to give him easier access as Steve crosses his arms over his chest, watching the pair of you at work. “Poor baby.”

“Hey -” you reach behind you, running your hands through long, brunette locks just to feel the way Bucky smiles against your skin. “At least you two have each other on missions, getting each other off - I’m here all by myself. Nothin’ but the fingers.” “There’s a lot less time to get your rocks off in the middle of a mission than you’d think.”

“Is there?” you inquire playfully as Bucky’s lips trail further up your neck, landing on a spot just beneath your jawline and suckling the soft skin - the teasing lilt in your voice that you’d intended to sound confident and self-assured gets breathier and just a tad more pathetic as you continue, “Sam and I always seem to have enough time -”

Bucky grunts against your cheek, murmuring something you can’t quite make out about how he hates that fuckin’ bird boy, and a grin spreads across your face that mirrors Steve’s as he watches you. Bucky tilts your head to the side with two fingers pressed to your chin so he can ghost his lips over yours but you deepen it, pushing your face further into his as you wrap one of your arms around his neck, tugging at his hair to hear him groan into your mouth and you swallow the noise. You can practically sense Steve rolling his eyes both at your teasing and the way Bucky’s absolutely devouring you, the metal hand around your waist trailing up your torso and leaving goosebumps in its wake until he reaches your chest, cold fingers plucking at your nipple, and your chest arches into his hand with a broken gasp into his mouth.

“Better tell Sam not to touch what isn’t his,” Steve tells you, and you nod, watching the blonde take a few steps forward and for a moment you wonder if he’ll lean down, take your lips from Bucky’s and kiss you until you’re practically putty in his hands but instead he pushes past the both of you, disappearing down the hallway behind you, and you crane your neck backwards to watch his back as he vanishes around a corner.

For a moment you wonder if Bucky hadn’t seen him leave, continuing his ministrations on your nipples as his teeth bite at your bottom lip as though there’d been no interruption, his mouth turning up into a smug smirk at the way you whimper into his mouth. God, you’ve missed his touch, clever hands knowing exactly how to make you fall apart for him even without slipping into the lace of your panties, and your mouth opens in a silent gasp as his flesh palm presses to the skin of your stomach.

“Wanna go see Stevie?” the soldier questions into your mouth, voice low and sultry smooth, and you jerk your head up and down once. “Tough mission for him.”

You frown at that as Bucky pulls away from you, leaving one lingering kiss to the side of your throat as he pulls your shirt down over your lower half. “Thought he said it was easy.”

“It was,” and that makes your brows furrow as his metal hand wraps around your wrist, beginning to pull you down the hallway where your bedroom door is swung wide open. “But Fury ripped him a new one, ‘cause he disobeyed his orders - got the mission done fine - but you know how Stevie hates having his authority questioned.”

Your lips part in a silent o, and Bucky smirks ever so slightly before leading you into the bedroom where Steve sits at the edge of the bed, peeling off his suit and kicking it off of his ankles. Bucky shuts the door behind you, immediately working at tugging his vest over his head and you leave him to it, bare feet padding on the hardwood floor until you reach Steve, and you merely stand before him until he’s finished taking his clothes off, leaving him clad in only a pair of boxers.

“Do you need something?” Steve questions, glancing up at you with an amused glint in his eyes and you groan, lifting your leg up to straddle his lap, calves on either side of his, and his hands go to rest on the underside of your thigh like an instinct. For a moment you don’t say anything, grinding your hips down into his until his hands slide up your back, tugging your shirt up over your torso so he can press his cold palms to the globes of your ass, halting you in place. “Words, baby.”

“Want you to boss me around,” you tell him, dropping your lips to the side of his throat, and his dry exhale of a laugh blows at your hair as his fingers slip beneath the scrap of lace between your ass, fully digging into the plump skin, and you smile against his neck. “Missed you bein’ bossy.”

“Really?” You nod, feeling the bed dip beside you until there’s another set of hands on your body, tugging the hem of your shirt up until you’re forced to remove your lips from Steve’s neck so Bucky can pull your shirt off, littering it onto the ground beside you. Steve leans his head back as both you and Bucky lean forward, your lips to his throat and the other soldier taking his lips so that the next words he speaks are muffled into the kiss, “Sure Bucky didn’t put you up to this, baby?”

“Who’s Bucky?”

That makes both of them laugh into each other and you smile, leaning back in his lap as you take in the sight of them - lips crashed together, metal hand burying itself in blonde locks that he hasn’t cut in a while, hair brushing the tips of his ears, and Steve’s hand that had been on your ass drops, seemingly forgotten about his job - you huff, wrap your hand around his wrist, and lift his palm up to rest against your left breast.

Instinctively he squeezes, and the two men pull apart from each other as Bucky leans forward to kiss the top of your head, flesh hand sliding down your stomach until he can push into the damp lace fabric of your panties, and you jolt against his hand as he brushes your clit. “Can’t possibly think we forgot about you,” he tells you, and you shrug, watching the way he smiles. “Come on, Stevie, you heard her - wants you to boss her around.”

And Steve is surely still doubtful of your intentions - it isn’t as though you’ve ever asked him to boss you around before - it typically just happens when he’s pissed or upset or happy -

It happens a lot. He’s a bossy guy, both in the field and out of it, and he’s more than happy to give demands and orders and he loves to see you follow them.

Bucky is - usually along for the ride. He’s the calming voice in your ear when Steve is edging you until you’re screaming, the gentle touch when you’ve been overstimulated for an hour, the smooth, sultry kiss when you’re being filled so deep from both ends you feel entirely numb - and he can be mean, too, metal hand tightening around your throat and smirking at the way you sob -

Well, it depends.

“Get on the bed,” Steve tells you, and regardless of whether he’s suspicious of you and Bucky his voice is already hardening and if the words weren’t implicitly sexual, perhaps you could fool yourself into thinking you’re on the field - you listen, though. You always do - swing your legs off of his lap and land on your back on the bed, watching as Steve stands and Bucky merely turns around, leaning back on his arms as he watches you, your leg hiked up to give a limited, tantalizing view to the lace covered pex of your thighs.

“Buck - wanna get behind our girl?”

The phrase our girl never fails to make your stomach flutter, and the feeling only intensifies as Bucky grunts in affirmation, crawling towards you, and with hands hooked under your armpits he lifts you to sit, your back pressed to his chest. Hands reach up to your chest, cupping your tits in flesh and metal palms that have a chill rolling through your spine, hips grinding back against the erection you can feel pressed into your back.

“Spread your legs,” Steve tells you, and you oblige, feet sliding across the bed to spread yourself as wide open as you can, and Bucky’s metal hand leaves your chest to grab onto one of your thighs, forcing it open wide enough that a burn spreads through your muscle. “Yeah - don’t fuckin’ move, baby - hold her down, Buck.”

Bucky doesn’t need to be told twice, moving his other hand so he’s holding both of your thighs, and you can feel wetness dripping down your cunt onto the sheets as Steve stands still, for a moment, just watching the pair of you - your chest heaves and you can feel Bucky’s fingers twitch against your thighs, surely desperate to caress your tits just the way he always likes to, but he wouldn’t dare disobey Steve when he’s like this. You know it, and he knows it, and you’re sure Steve knows it too - he looks so smug, even as he climbs onto the bed, resting on his stomach as he presses his cheek into your thigh, warm breath fanning over your cunt. His fingers hook into the soaked material of your panties, feeling the stickiness that coats your folds and the undergarment, and with not a second of hesitation he rips them in half, tugging them off your leg and tossing the ruined scrap of lace onto the ground.

Your instinct is to reach down and run your fingers through his hair as he lowers his mouth to your pussy, tongue flicking once over your clit, but the second your hands jerk in their spot resting overtop of Bucky’s, Steve is reaching up - one hand manages to wrap around both of your wrists, holding your hands in place on top of your stomach with a grip so tight it’ll surely leave bruises that will darken in the morning.

You groan softly as Steve lifts his head, gaze hard and unforgiving as he stares at you, and then his gaze moves behind you where you know he must be having some sort of silent conversation with Bucky - they’re so good at that - before he’s leaning back down, teeth gnashing at your clit with enough force to make you jolt.

“Think Stevie said not to fuckin’ move, sweetie,” Bucky murmurs, lips sucking a dark hickey just beneath your ear, and a low whine escapes your throat as Steve’s tongue laps up your sticky folds before centering on your clit. “Didn’t you, honey?” And Steve hums in affirmation, pulling back to spit harshly at your clit, and you exhale skaily as you feel the glob of coldness trickle down your folds. “Move again, and I’ll punish you,” he tells you, which is more generous than he typically is when he’s in this state but you suppose the excitement of arriving home after a shitty, weekend mission must not have worn out yet. “Be a good girl for us, baby.”

You nod furiously, Bucky’s forearms hooking beneath your knees until the ache in your thighs nearly tips the balance of pain and pleasure but it’s still leaning towards the latter - more so as Steve dips his head back down, lips wrapping around the sensitive nub at your core that tears a moan from your throat, and you bite at your lips to try and silence the noises.

“Never told you to be quiet,” Steve mumbles against your cunt, vibrations from his voice sending a shiver up your spine, and Bucky smiles against one of the many hickies he’s leaving on your neck - you’re sure you’ll look a damn sight tomorrow, made of practically entirely concealer to hide the marks he’s obsessed with, but you don’t have it in you to stop. “Let us hear your noises - how good we’re making you feel.”

You drop your head back into Bucky’s shoulder with a desperate cry as Steve’s flexed tongue circles your clit before running back down your slit, parting your folds until he can slip his tongue inside of your hole, thrusting it in and out a few times, lips turning upwards at your resulting whine. Bucky’s nails leave deep, crescent-shaped indentations in the smooth skin of your inner thigh, and you can feel his erection pressed thick and swollen against your back. Surely he’s just as wound up as you are - and as much as Steve is, his hips rutting against the edge of the bed as though of their own accord - but he doesn’t do much of anything at all to alleviate the pressure, breathy exhales in your ear as your hips rub against his bulge.

“Wanna hold her open for me, Buck?” Steve questions, pulling back just a mere inch from your swollen clit before dipping his head back down, tongue licking a fat stripe through your folds before lust-blown blue orbs lift up to meet the ones behind you - you can feel Bucky’s hair, brushing against your cheek as he nods once, and your brows furrow in confusion. Surely he’s already holding you open, hands forcing your thighs so far apart that you can feel the burn in every inch of your body - and then he drops one of your thighs against the bed, metal hand trailing down to your cunt, and his fingers dip through your folds, spreading them apart and exposing your swollen clit further to the blonde between your legs. Steve adjusts himself, moving towards the side so he can press his face into your pussy without hitting Bucky’s fingers, and his tongue circles your clit once more.

You moan at the sight, nearly going cross eyed as you stare down at Steve. It’s so erotic, watching everything in your most sacred of areas, Bucky’s fingers and Steve’s face buried so intensely into your cunt you’re sure he can’t possibly breathe - he moans against your folds every so often, as though the act of giving you pleasure makes him feel just as good, and you don’t doubt it for a moment.

“Steve -” you gasp, back arching up, and Steve uses his hand around your wrist to force you back down onto the bed wordlessly - you drop pathetically back onto the duvet, a tear sliding down your cheek, and you can hear Bucky tut behind you, cold fingers slipping on the moisture coating your folds. “Steve - fuck -”

“Gonna cum, baby?” “Yes,” you breathe, hips bucking backwards into Bucky’s erection and he lets out a choked gasp into your ear, head falling back against the headboard with a loud thud that rings through the room. “Yes, need to - please -”

Steve pulls away, then - you cry out at the loss of warmth between your legs - and his nose nudges Bucky’s fingers, prompting the soldier behind you to take the cue to dip his metal digits into your cunt, the cold thickness stretching you out until you’re preening at the sensation. “Think she’s been a good girl? Think she should cum, Buck?”

You want to scream at the pause between the question and Bucky’s answer - he hums for a moment, as though in deep thought, fingers buried down to the knuckle inside of you and body practically leaning over yours so his metal arm can reach, brushing the sweet spot inside of you that makes your vision go fuzzy. He takes too fucking long, Steve’s grasp on your wrist pressed to your tummy the only thing keeping your hips from bucking up to force pressure into your cunt, before he finally says, “You’ve been good for us, haven’t you?”

“Yes!” you practically squeal as his fingers pull out hardly an inch before pumping back in, curling upwards again to hit your G-spot. “Yes, please, been so good, Bucky -”

“Cum for us, sweetie -”

You hardly wait for him to finish his sentence when Steve lowers his lips to your clit, wrapping around the bud and sucking until his cheeks hollow out, and your hips jerk desperately into his face as the waves of euphoria rack through your body, tearing a desperate sob from your throat as Bucky thrusts his fingers in and out of you, nearly hitting the side of Steve’s face in his haste to get you off, and he’s doing a damn good job at it - your hips jut into his back as you cum into their mouth and fingers, stuttering groans leaving your mouth one after another.

Steve’s mouth never leaves your clit - not even when your hips thrash against his mouth and you tear your hands free of his grasp to dig into his hair, attempting to stop his ministrations on your clit but he refuses - your folds drip wetness into his waiting mouth and he laps it up like a man dying of thirst, Bucky’s fingers lazily thrusting in and out of you as his chest rises and falls against your back, dropping your other thigh to hook an arm around your torso and hold you close to him.

Hold her down, Steve had told him, and he seems more than content to oblige with the order, whispering loving nothings in your ear that you can’t bring yourself to understand, words coming through as nothing more than incoherent babble to your brain muddled with the pressure to cum already building in your core again -

“Oh,” you whimper, heels digging into the mattress as Steve’s tongue laps over your folds and Bucky’s finger before settling on your clit again, flicking the nub over and over until you feel yourself fucking burst - “oh, fuck!”

It’s entirely more intense than the first one, Steve’s teeth nibbling at your clit as you topple over the edge like a row of dominoes - fire shoots through every limb, every crevice of your body until you’re shaking, tears streaming out of the corners of your eyes and trickling down to your jawline. Your thighs tense, a high pitched cry piercing the air of the room as the aftershocks overtake your body, leaving you trembling into Bucky’s grasp as Steve pulls off your clit with a pop.

“That’s good,” Bucky whispers into your ear, pulling his metal fingers out of you once the shaking rolling through your body has come to a relative halt - through your blurred vision you can see Steve take the digits in his mouth, licking them clean eyes rolling up to meet Bucky’s, and he groans softly. “Good girl.”

Steve leaves one last kiss to your swollen clit before moving up your body, and you’re quick to lean forward, wrapping a quivering arm around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss - it’s rough and biting, teeth clashing together and his tongue swiping into your mouth without a moment for you to catch your breath, and when he pulls away his breathing is noticeably heavier than before.

“Yeah, you’re good for us,” he tells you, bringing a hand up to stroke at the soft skin of your cheek before pulling it back and smacking it back down - it’s not hard, not by a long shot, but it’s enough to draw another whimper from your throat at the soft sting. “On your knees.”

Your legs feel shaky but you manage to push yourself to your knees, resting your arms around Steve’s shoulders to hold yourself up as Bucky shuffles behind you, slotting his hips against your ass so you can feel his bulge through his boxers - he grinds himself into your ass, sliding his arms around your waist just as Steve tugs his own boxers down, fist lazily pumping his cock as you watch him.

“You know what?” the blonde murmurs after a moment of you watching him, your cunt throbbing in need. “Think I’m gonna take your throat.”

You whine at that as Steve pulls away abruptly, leaving you nearly collapse onto your stomach but Bucky’s arm around your stomach mercifully holds you up, practically manhandling you as he turns you around, shoving you onto your back with your head nearly dangling off the bed as he crawls up your body, leaving lingering kisses on the smooth expanses of skin exposed to him. Large hands force your thighs open, pushing his hips in between your legs, and you whimper as his cock rubs against your overstimulated clit, even through the fabric of his boxers -

Steve stands beside the bed, smoothing his fingers through your matted hair as you come face to face with his cock, throbbing red and leaking precum down the sides, and your mouth practically waters at the sight - then Bucky’s pulling his own boxers down, swollen tip of his dick sliding through your sodden folds wettened from the aftermath of two orgasms. You push your thighs farther apart, opening your mouth wide and sticking your tongue out for Steve and he grins down at you, the expression looking less joyful and more downright smug and don’t you love seeing him like this? All dominant and intense, like he could control you if he pleased, and he does please -

His cock shoves forward into your throat at the same moment Bucky sheathes himself inside of your cunt fully, and a choked cry forces its way out of your mouth, reverberating through Steve’s body until he lets out a strangled grunt. Your nose brushes against the trimmed hair at his pelvis, hollowing your throat to take him in the best you can, and his grip on your hair tightens as leverage to hold you onto him.

“Oh - oh, shit,” Bucky gasps, the noise stuttered and breathy, and the hands on your thigh move up to squeeze your waist, grasp tough and bruising against your skin. “Fuck, fuck -”

You gag around Steve as he finally pulls out of your mouth, leaving just the tip on your tongue, and you swirl it around him - he drops his head back with a groan and when he speaks, his words are shallow, controlled - “Feels good, Buck?”

“So good, Stevie -” Bucky thrusts himself out of you before pushing back in, cunt stretching around his girth and your eyes roll back at the coil of pleasure already building in your lower stomach as his pace picks up, hips working faster and faster until the sound of skin slapping skin nearly overpowers your desperate mixture of moans and cries -

Nearly. Not completely.

Steve tugs at your hair and you remember your job to suck him off and you let him push your head forward, lips wrapping around his girth and tongue flattening to lap at the thick vein on the underside - his resulting groan is immediate, is desperate, and your urge to smile is only thwarted by Bucky’s metal hand pressing to your clit as his hips slam against yours.

Your hips jerk against his, pressure on the most sensitive point of your body making your eyes roll back once more as Steve’s cock slides in and out of your throat, both hands buried tight in your hair until there’s nothing else you can do than just take both of them - you bring your hands from their spot clutching the duvet to your tits, shaking fingertips kneading at your peaked nipples, and you’re not sure if the needy whine that emits from Bucky’s throat is due to his cock slamming into your pussy or from the sight of you toying with your boobs, but either one is reasonable, you decide.

It takes hardly a moment to work the three of you into a rhythm, but when you get it, it’s perfect - Bucky thrusts into you, filling you up so deep you swear you can feel him in every crevice of your body, and once he pulls out Steve pushes himself into your mouth, tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat just to hear you gag around him. Every once in a while, though, there’s a stutter in the pattern, and both men pull out to ram into your cunt and mouth at the same time, and the three of you cry out in unison.

Bucky’s flesh hand moves to your thigh, pushing it up so far that your knee nearly touches your chest and the burn only heightens the pleasure he’s giving you as he hits the sweet spot buried deep in your cunt over and over like he’s memorized exactly where it is - and surely he has - they know your body better than you do, sometimes - know just how to make you scream. Metal fingers tweak at your clit and your hips grind up into his, pushing him deeper and deeper into you, and you moan around Steve’s dick.

“I’m gonna cum,” Bucky groans, hips slowing deliberately in pace but it’s still fast enough to make your head spin - Steve moves one hand to your face, grabbing your chin and holding you in place with his cock still halfway down your throat. “Fuck - want me to fill you up, sweetie?”

You nod.

“Tell me,” he insists, and your eyes squeeze shut as you exhale through your nose. “Want me to fill you up?”

Steve pulls out until only the tip of his length rests in your mouth, and you swallow thickly before saying, words a desperate sob, “Please - please cum in me, Bucky, baby, please - fill me up -”

“Good girl,” the brunette between your thigh grunts, squeezing your clit harshly and your back arches, Steve slipping his cock all the way back in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and you gag around him as he moans. “Good - fuckin’ - girl -”

With a few more harsh thrusts into your pussy Bucky’s hips halt, pressed taut to yours, filling you to the brim, and his head drops backwards, lips parting with a drawn out, silent scream before he fully cries out, and you feel his ribbons of cum in your cunt - the warmth filling you up is enough to snap the coil building in your abdomen and you sob around Steve as you cum onto Bucky, core clenching around him like a vise as he holds you to him.

“Yes, yes -” Bucky’s voice sounds far away as your muscles go lax, collapsing like putty onto the bed with the grasps on your head and your hips the only thing grounding you to Earth - “yes, takin’ me so fuckin’ good -”

It’s then that Steve gives one last thrust, deep in your throat, and his grip on your chin forces you to look up at him, meeting his stern eyes and he’s so close you can see it reflected in his orbs - they’re dark, pupils wide, and you whimper. “Don’t swallow,” he whispers, tone sounding similar to that of a hiss, and you nod. “Don’t swallow a single drop.”

Your head bobs up and down as Steve’s hand pumps up and down the base of his cock, his cry strangled and needy when he finally releases into your mouth - he cums in spurts onto your tongue and you keep it stuck out for him, trying to resist the overwhelming desire to swallow everything he’s given you but he looks so proud of you when he’s finished and every drop still rests on your tongue and you prefer that look of admiration over the taste, really.

“Kiss her, Buck -”

And Bucky doesn’t have to be told twice, both hands moving to your neck and pulling you up so vigorously your head is spinning when he crashes his lips to yours. His tongue slips into your mouth and you part your lips for him, cum dribbling out of the sides of your mouth and he laps it up like a dying man, palms pressed to your tits. You can see the bob of his throat when he swallows everything you’ve forced into his mouth and you swallow the rest, parting your lips from him with a gasp, practically heaving for air in the bedroom that suddenly feels humid, smelling of sex and cum and desire and remarkably like your two boys themselves.

Steve collapses onto the bed first. He grabs for Bucky, tugging him into his chest and you sit on your knees for a moment, simply watching them - they fall into tandem with each other like they were made for it, and maybe they were, Steve’s face nuzzling into Bucky’s back and you’re never surprised by the sudden vulnerability of your captain immediately after sex. The first time you’d joined them you’d suspected he was embarrassed but you don’t think he is

He’s in love.

It’s a sweet thought.

Bucky wraps his metal hand around your wrist and pulls you down to him, his chin resting on top of your head as you press your cheek to his sweaty chest, feeling his arm wrap around your back. He’s silent, using his foot to kick the comforter up from where it’s been shoved to the bottom of the bed, and when it’s far enough up Steve reaches down to pull it over the three of you, drowning you in its warmth even though you’re not feeling quite cold anymore.

“I don’t know,” you say, after a moment of silence, voice muffled against Bucky’s chest. “It feels like I’m the only one getting ganged up on, nowadays.”

They laugh at that, Bucky’s flesh palm smoothing up and down your back. “You asked for it,” Steve tells you, and you shrug.

“Still.” You move to rest your chin on Bucky’s chest, and he nearly goes cross eyed to meet your eyes as he looks down at you. “Maybe, one of these days, we could tie Stevie up. Have our way with him.”

“He’d love that,” Bucky muses, and you can practically hear Steve rolling his eyes.

“Yeah - right after a mission, when he’s all wound up -”

“Hey,” Steve warns, and you smile.

“I don’t think there are restraints strong enough for those muscles, anyway,” you murmur, and Bucky smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

You fall into silence again, and after a couple of minutes you hear Steve’s soft snoring, followed by Bucky’s, until you’re the last awake between the three of you. They’re rightfully exhausted, surely getting little to no sleep over the weekend - you like hearing how peaceful they sound when they’re resting, even after fucking you so silly you were practically crying.

You smile as you bury your face into Bucky’s chest. Shit, maybe Fury was right - maybe they do balance each other out, a bit.

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tetralea · 3 years

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Only to watch - reversed

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader x Harrison Osterfield

Word Count: 1.7 K+

Warning: pure smut. Vaginal sex, oral sex (male receiving), forced orgasm, over stimulation, edging, sooo much dirty talk, a bit of a degradation, but nothing major, dom!Haz and switch!Tom, but Tom dominates this one pretty much, swearing

Summary: You and Haz invite Tom into the bedroom mainly to watch first, and now it’s pay back time. Now Harrison has to watch and live up to his statement as in he could behave better than Tom did. Tom plays absolutelly shamelessly dirty.

A/N: It is also a filthy one shot, thank you for @hazofmyheart for the inspo after the ‘first part’.

A few weeks went by since your first time with Tom also in the bedroom and since that absolutely reckless statement Harrison made:

‘I could behave a lot better if the tables were turned.’ And Tom? Oh, sweet and competitive Tom just couldn’t forget that.

That’s how it started, him sneaking into your bedroom while Harrison was in the shower, crawling on top of you, kissing you with internet. It wasn’t long until he undresses the both of you, making you impatient and longing for what he was about to give you.

By the time Harrison returned into the room Tom was already fucking you, with slow, deliberate motions. Your nails leaving long, red marks on his broad back and you were silently pleading for more.

When he noticed Harrison, he stilled, opening his thigh wide to give himself leverage as he sat up, his cock still burried in your hot cunt.

‘I think it’s payback time.’ That cheeky grin didn’t mean anything good, and he already had something in mind you could tell.

Harrison on the other hand remained eerily calm, only smirking and dragging a chair to the end of the bed.

‘Let’s see if you can just sit there and watch until I fuck your girl silly.’ Tom didn’t move ever since, making you squirming, trying to gain any sort of friction. His thick cock stretching you out as you kept him warm, slowly driving you mental.

‘I can behave better, you can bet on it.’

With that Tom returned his attention to you, starting to move slowly. The way Haz positioned the chair gave him a perfect view of you splayed across the mattress, legs impossibly wide for Tom, as he was still on his knees and shins, keeping his hips low and fucking into you. His hands were either on your hips or roaming on your body, earning a low growl from Harrison any time his hand wandered down, playing with your clit.

You were sure the position was intentional, and that Haz could see everything, every time Tom’s glistening cock entered you and pulled out. Tom made a show of it, moving slow, pulling almost completely out and then bottoming out. You couldn’t help it you whimpered every time he pulled out and moaned in pleasure when he pushed back. Your back arching from the mattress trying to feel more, get more and make him go faster.

When he finally did you almost completely lost it. ‘That’s it, darling, take it like a good girl.’ Tom growled as he was pounding into you, his fingers rubbing your clit deliciously. ‘Fuck, Haz, she is almost there.’ He looked up his lust blow, brown eyes meeting with tense blue ones. Harrison took it like a champion so far, his hands gripping his knees so hard his knuckles were white. ‘Look at her, so pretty, fucked out like this. Bouncing on my cock, letting me use this pretty pussy as I want.’ Your eyes widened at his words, but you didn’t have time to process it really as those words alone took you to the edge. ‘Say my name as you come.’ Tom commanded and you did so, his name fell from your lips like a prayer, as you pulsed around him, your body heaving under his strong, heavy thrusts.

‘Shit.’ Harrison let out a strangled curse his hips jerking and he needed every ounce of pride and strength not to say a word or touch himself.

Tom on the other hand seemed like he was enjoying this way too much, only starting to warm up. He fucked you though your orgasm, slowing down a little, dragging out every movement again to give you a bit of time to collect yourself.

‘Your boyfriend is pretty strong willed isn’t he?’ Tom asked and leaned back down, hoovering over you, resting on his elbows to kiss you. It was gentle and soft and made you melt into him immediately. ‘Let’s see how many orgasms I can pull out of you until he breaks.’ Tom’s devilish smirk returned and it didn’t promise anything good.

He pulled out of you, manhandling you easily, turning you around and pulling your ass up in the air and pushing back to with a satisfied moan. ‘Good, she feels so good, Haz. So wet and warm and tight. Fuck.’

You whined at his words, your body shuddering to his words and deep, hard thrusts. It felt like he was gonna be the death of you. He was still careful and being sure he was showing off as his cock was disappeared in you with ever second.

You heard some ruffling and looked up just to see Harrison giving in and pulling his cock free from his pants, his long fingers wrapping around his big cock. It was hard to tell if it was the sight or the small sound he made or Tom or all of them at the same time but you were on the edge again, pulsing around Tom. He chuckled like he was reading your mind.

‘It seems like our princess, likes your show pretty much.’ Tom said, surprisingly steady and coherent compared to his thrust. ‘She is squeezing me so much. What is it princess, you want to come?’ He asked, and didn’t leave time for you to answer. ‘Just say my name and you can.’

Your eyes remained shut, not daring to look up at Harrison as the words tumbled over your lips. ‘Tom, please.’

‘Keep going.’ He encouraged you with a smirk and you did. In return he fucked you right into your second orgasm, his hands holding you steady as it washed over your body. Through your dazed mind you could hear him praising you with broken moans and whimpers while Haz was panting heavily, cursing lightly as his eyes were drinking in the sight of you coming.

This time Tom didn’t slow down, he was way too worked up, seemingly running out of time and stamina to prove his point, so he decided to play dirty.

When you were down from your high, slightly shaking from over stimulation he reached out and pulled you flush to his torso, slightly turning the both of you so you were facing Harrison entirely.

This way it was impossible not to look at him. His gaze was on you, watching the two of you almost mesmerised. He wanted you, he wanted to go there and take you, but he had a point to prove.

‘Look at him, darling.’ Tom’s sounded breathless and like he was almost losing it, but he didn’t leave you time to dwell on it, when two of his fingers poked your lips, making you open your mouth for him.

He was playing dirty now.

Those two fingers pushed passed through your lips and you eagerly started to suck on them. ‘Keep your eyes on him, and imagine it’s his cock, that he is the one fucking your mouth like this.’ You moaned around his fingers shameless, body trembling, your mind on short circuit. ‘Do you want it? Do you want his cock in your mouth?’ He asked, and slowed down his thrust just to bring the worst out of you, playing with you, pushing your buttons just the way you told him you loved it.

You tired to respond but it was barely coherent, your earlier moans becoming cries as it slowly become too much.

‘Ask him nicely.’ Tom removed his fingers, some salive coating your swollen lips.

‘Please, Haz, I need you cock in my mouth.’ The words come easier than any of you ever dreamed of. He looked at you with desperation, his body and mind battling with each other, while Tom pushed his fingers back and you started to suck without any command.

‘She loves it so much, and both you and I know it. She loves when we fuck her cunt and mouth at the same time. She is so easy for us, comes so easily every time.’ Tom reasoned, breathing heavily, his hips going slow, shuttering slightly. He was close. ‘Ask him again.’

You did, over and over, shamelessly begging for Harrison as Tom fucked you. Haz’s hands were pumping fast his own cock, his chest heaving, cheeks flushed his inner battle visible on his pretty face.

You were at the edge and Tom used it mercilessly, your begging becoming high pitched, as he paused to hold you off for a second more. Now you were begging for Harrison for your orgasm, completely out of your mind and he couldn’t resist anymore.

‘Fuck it.’ He groaned when he got to the bed, pushing his pants off a bit more, grabbing your shoulder and bending you over to your hands and knees, his hard cock sliding into your mouth with ease. He tasted like pre-cum and something what was utterly and uniquely him. The weight on your tongue, the stretch of your lips, as you bobbed your head up and down felt like heaven. Tom fucked you hard and fast now, wanting to make you come so you could push him over as well.

‘So, easy for us. Always so eager to be filled with our cocks, love. Now let Tom use that pretty cunt and come inside of you. Don’t squeeze him. I know it is hard, just keep your cunt nice and open for him.’ Harrison’s voice slowly swam into your mind, his words having its effect on your as always, immediately obeying, your eyes rolling back and you moaned around his cock. ‘Now come for me.’ Harrison said with stern voice. ‘The both of you.’

And you did, you come hard around Tom’s cock milking him, as he twitched inside of you, Harrison’s command setting him off as well. It was all a blur, the pleasrue, your orgasm completely numbing all of your senses and it felt like it took over your body completely. You were overstimulated beyond anything you have felt before, but they didn’t stop until Tom emptied himself completely inside of you. When he stopped then and only then Haz tapped your shoulder, cueuing you about his impending orgasm. You nodded and he come hard into your mouth. His muscles tensed, thighs shook as he pulsed in your mouth, you doing your best to swallow all of his release.

After that it was a blurry mess again, they helped you to lay on the mattress, cleaned you up the best they could.

‘Maybe it was too much.’ Tom sighed, his hand reassuringly wrapping around yours.

‘You were so fucking extra, and you are so being punished for it.’ Haz chuckled, and you couldn’t stay awake anymore.

Tags: @we--are---not--afraid @terrifictomholland @tomsrebeleyebrow @greenorangevioletgrass @augustholland @worldoftom

If you also like these threesome type of fics let me know if you want to be tagged! Thank you!

#tom holland #harrison osterfield #tom holland smut #harrison osterfield smut #tom holland x reader x harrison osterfield #dom!tom #dom!harrison #smut #haz osterfield

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be-gay-do-heists · 3 years

Text

hello yall :) the holy month of elul started last night, which is typically a time for contemplation, so since it is impossible for me to stop thinking about leverage, i decided to write an essay. hope anyone interested in reading it enjoys, and that it makes at least a little sense!! spoilers for leverage redemption

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Leverage, Judaism, and “Doing the Work”: An Essay for Elul

When it comes to Elul and the approaching High Holidays, Leverage might seem like an odd topic to meditate on.

The TNT crime drama that ran from 2008-2012, and which released a new season this summer following its renewal, centers on a group of found-family thieves who help the victims of corporations and oligarchs (sometimes based on real-world examples), using wacky heists and cons to bring down the rich and powerful. In one episode, the team’s clients want to reclaim their father’s prized Glimt piece that had been stolen in the Shoah and never returned, but aside from this and the throwaway lines and jokes standard for most mainstream television, there’s not a ton textually Jewish about Leverage. However, despite this, I have found that the show has strong resonance among Jewish fans, and lots of potential for analysis along Jewish themes. This tends to focus on one character in particular: the group’s brilliant, pop culture-savvy, and personable hacker, Alec Hardison, played by the phenomenally talented Aldis Hodge.

I can’t remember when or where I first encountered a reading of Hardison as Jewish, but not only is this a somewhat popular interpretation, it doesn’t feel like that much of a leap. In the show itself, Hardison has a couple of the aforementioned throwaway lines that potentially point to him being Jewish, even if they’re only in service of that moment’s grift. It’s hard to point to what exactly makes reading Hardison as Jewish feel so natural. My first guess is the easy way Hardison fits into the traditional paradigms of Jewish masculinity explored by scholars such as Daniel Boyarin (2). Most of the time, the hacker is not portrayed as athletic or physical; he is usually the foil to the team’s more physically-adept characters like fighter Eliot, or thief Parker. Indeed, Hardison’s strength is mental, expressed not only through his computer wizardry but his passions for science, technology, music, popular media, as well as his studious research into whatever scenario the group might come up against. In spite of his self-identification as a “geek,” Hardison is nevertheless confident, emotionally sensitive, and secure in his masculinity. I would argue he is representative of the traditional Jewish masculine ideal, originating in the rabbinic period and solidified in medieval Europe, of the dedicated and thoughtful scholar (3). Another reason for popular readings of Hardison as Jewish may be the desire for more representation of Jews of color. Although mainstream American Jewish institutions are beginning to recognize the incredible diversity of Jews in the United States (4), and popular figures such as Tiffany Haddish are amplifying the experiences of non-white Jews, it is still difficult to find Jews of color represented in popular media. For those eager to see this kind of representation, then, interpreting Hardison, a black man who places himself tangential to Jewishness, in this way is a tempting avenue.

Regardless, all of the above remains fan interpretation, and there was little in the text of the show that seriously tied Judaism into Hardison’s identity. At least, until we got this beautiful speech from Hardison in the very first episode of the renewed show, directed at the character of Harry Wilson, a former corporate lawyer looking to atone for the injustice he was partner to throughout his career:

“In the Jewish faith, repentance, redemption, is a process. You can’t make restitution and then promise to change. You have to change first. Do the work, Harry. Then and only then can you begin to ask for forgiveness. [...] So this… this isn’t the win. It’s the start, Harry.”

I was floored to hear this speech, and thrilled that it explained the reboot’s title, Leverage: Redemption. Although not mentioned by its Hebrew name, teshuvah forms the whole basis for the new season. Teshuvah is the concept of repentance or atonement for the sins one has committed. Stemming from the root shuv/shuva, it carries the literal sense of “return.” In a spiritual context, this usually means a return to G-d, of finding one’s way back to holiness and by extension good favor in the eyes of the Divine. But equally important is restoring one’s relationships with fellow humans by repairing any hurt one has caused over the past year. This is of special significance in the holy month of Elul, leading into Rosh haShanah, the Yamim Noraim, and Yom Kippur, but one can undertake a journey of redemption at any point in time. That teshuvah is a journey is a vital message for Harry to hear; one job, one reparative act isn’t enough to overturn years of being on the wrong side of justice, to his chagrin. As the season progresses, we get to watch his path of teshuvah unfold, with all its frustrations and consequences. Harry grows into his role as a fixer, not only someone who can find jobs and marks for the team, but fixes what he has broken or harmed.

So why was Hardison the one to make this speech?

I do maintain that it does provide a stronger textual basis for reading Hardison as Jewish by implication (though the brief on-screen explanation for why he knows about teshuvah, that his foster-parent Nana raised a multi-faith household, is important in its own merit, and meshes well with his character traits of empathy and understanding for diverse experiences). However, beyond this, Hardison isn’t exactly an archetypical model for teshuvah. In the original series, he was the youngest character of the main ensemble, a hacking prodigy in the start of his adult career, with few mistakes or slights against others under his belt. In one flashback we see that his possibly first crime was stealing from the Bank of Iceland to pay off his Nana’s medical bills, and that his other early hacking exploits were in the service of fulfilling personal desires, with only those who could afford to pay the bill as targets. Indeed, in the middle of his speech, Hardison points to Eliot, the character with the most violent and gritty past who views his work with the Leverage team as atonement, for a prime example of ongoing teshuvah. So while no one is perfect and everyone has a reason for doing teshuvah, this question of why Hardison is the one to give this series-defining speech inspired me to look at his character choices and behavior, and see how they resonate with a different but interrelated Jewish principle, that of tikkun olam.

Tikkun olam is literally translated as “repairing the world,” and can take many different forms, such as protecting the rights of vulnerable people in society, or giving tzedakah (5). In modern times, tikkun olam is often the rallying cry for Jewish social activists, particularly among environmentalists for whom literally restoring the health of the natural world is the key goal. Teshuvah and tikkun olam are intertwined (the former is the latter performed at an interpersonal level) and both hold a sense of fixing or repairing, but tikkun olam really revolves around a person feeling called to address an injustice that they may have not had a personal hand in creating. Hardison’s sense of a universal scale of justice which he has the power to help right on a global level and his newfound drive to do humanitarian work, picked up sometime after the end of the original series, make tikkun olam a central value for his character. This is why we get this nice bit of dialogue from Eliot to Hardison in the second episode of the reboot, when the latter’s outside efforts to organize international aid start distracting him from his work with the team: “Is [humanitarian work] a side gig? In our line of work, you’re one of the best. But in that line of work… you’re the only one, man.” The character who most exemplifies teshuvah reminds Hardison of his amazing ability to effect change for the better on a huge stage, to do some effective tikkun olam. It’s this acknowledgement of where Hardison can do the most good that prompts the character’s absence for the remainder of the episodes released thus far, turning his side gig into his main gig.

With this in mind, it will be interesting to see where Hardison’s arc for this season goes. Separated from the rest of the team, the hacker still has remarkable power to change the world, because it is, after all, the “age of the geek.” However, he is still one person. For all that both teshuvah and tikkun olam are individual responsibilities and require individual decision-making and effort, the latter especially relies on collective work to actually make things happen. Hardison leaving is better than trying to do humanitarian work and Leverage at the same time, but there’s only so long he can be the “only one” in the field before burning out. I’m reminded of one of the most famous (for good reason) maxims in Judaism:

It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you free to neglect it. (6)

Elul is traditionally a time for introspection and heeding the calls to repentance. After a year where it’s never been easier to feel powerless and drained by everything going on around us, I think it’s worth taking the time to examine what kind of work we are capable of in our own lives. Maybe it’s fixing the very recent and tangible hurts we’ve left behind, like Harry. Maybe it’s the little changes for the better that we make every day, motivated by our sense of responsibility, like Eliot. And maybe it’s the grueling challenge of major social change, like Hardison. And if any of this work gets too much, who can we fall back on for support and healing? Determining what needs repair, working on our own scale and where our efforts are most helpful, and thereby contributing to justice in realistic ways means that we can start the new year fresh, having contemplated in holiday fashion how we can be better agents in the world.

Shana tovah u’metukah and ketivah tovah to all (7), and may the work we do in the coming year be for good!

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(1) Disclaimer: everybody’s fandom experiences are different, and this is just what I’ve picked up on in my short time watching and enjoying this show with others.

(2) See, for example, the introduction and first chapter of Boyarin’s book Unheroic Conduct: The Rise of Heterosexuality and the Invention of the Jewish Man (I especially recommend at least this portion if you are interested in queer theory and Judaic studies). There he explores the development of Jewish masculinity in direct opposition to Christian masculine standards.

(3) I might even go so far as to place Hardison well within the Jewish masculine ideal of Edelkayt, gentle and studious nobility (although I would hesitate to call him timid, another trait associated with Edelkayt). Boyarin explains that this scholarly, non-athletic model of man did not carry negative associations in the historical Jewish mindset, but was rather the height of attractiveness (Boyarin, 2, 51).

(4) Jews of color make up 20% of American Jews, according to statistics from Be’chol Lashon, and this number is projected to increase as American demographics continue to change: https://globaljews.org/about/mission/.

(5) Tzedakah is commonly known as righteous charity. According to traditional authority Maimonides, it should be given anonymously and without embarrassment to the person in need, generous, and designed to help the recipient become self-sufficient.

(6) Rabbi Tarfon, Pirkei Avot, 2:16

(7) “A good and sweet year” and “a good inscription [in the Book of Life]”

#leverage #miko speaks #jewish stuff #jumblr #leverage redemption #spoilers #lr spoilers #leverage redemption spoilers #written for a non leverage audience because i want my rabbi to read it alskdjflaksdjf #elul

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stargazingthenightaway · 3 years

Text

See Something You Like? Part 1

Pairing: Rebels Rex x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warning: NSFW 18+ Sexual tension, dirty thoughts, praise kink, size kink, Oral (female receiving) unwanted attention (not from main character) Dom!Rex

A/N: So I’ve decided to write a few, but what I thought would be a one shot has turned into this monster, so I’ve decided to break it down. Not sure how long it’ll be, but I get the feeling it’ll be at least 3 parts. This is inspired by @samrubio art especially her Rex pieces, go check it out! Also, if I missed any warning tags, let me know :)

It was a rarity for the firing range to be this empty. Usually it was crammed to the walls with training drills for new recruits, post mission vent sessions with the faceless targets or if you were unlucky, the cocky fly-boys trying to one-up each other, seeing who had the better ‘blaster’. If you were really unlucky, instead of leaving, their attention would turn to whoever they thought would enjoy their company, which consisted of what barely passed as a conversation before leading to the real objective, servicing the dangly bit between their legs. Their limp pick up line “I’ve got another blaster you can handle sweet cheeks” was in just as much need of an overhaul as their piloting skills. Sadly, you’ve been on the receiving end of these lack-lustre ‘invitations’ far too often and are quick to shut them down. It’s become so repetitive you can time it to the second when they make their appearance. All these boys are the same, give them a flight suit, a ship and they think they’re the Maker’s gift to the galaxy.

‘They’re just so immature’ you think to yourself, a scowl on your face. Your last rebuffed fly-boy hasn’t gotten the memo that you’re not interested and continues to pester you. As if you’d want to spend 30 seconds listening to a dying bantha grunt into your ear, fumbling to get himself off and counting down until you’re smothered in dissatisfaction. Hard. Pass.

The only reason you have some peace is because they’re out on a mission, but you will take the reprieve. It’s a joy to have an opportunity to fit in some blaster practice without an audience. While you weren’t the worst shot in the rebellion, you certainly weren’t the best, but with enough practice you hope you’ll be placed on some off-planet missions.

Sliding into an empty booth, you pick up one of the safety helmets, placing it on your head and type in one of the easier simulation codes on the keypad on the side of the wall. As the program calibrates, you remove the blaster from its holster on your thigh, flicking off the safety and settling into your stance. Breathe in, breathe out, shoot. This mantra helps get a rhythm going and soon you’re oblivious to everything around you except your target. The steady stream of blaster fire rings out, mixed with the sounds of high tings for each successful hit and clunky thunks with each miss. It’s pleasing to note that with each round there are more tings than there are thunks. Soon you’re drifting off with the repetitive movements, your thoughts going through your encounters with him.

Captain Rex, member of the Ghost crew and key participant of the rebellion. A legend in his own right. You had first seen him in passing, bringing up some data pads needed for a debrief and you just happened to look in his direction as you were leaving, and stars did you look. He was thick everywhere. His armour did nothing to hide his size as your gaze travelled from his barrel chest, to his thick waist, finally ending at his powerful thighs. Rex has the kind of body that makes you want to rub yourself all over him like a nexu in heat. As he spoke with Agent Fulcrum, Rex crossed his arms over his chest, pulling his shirt tight over his biceps, and your mouth watered. You were so busy ogling that Rex had finished his conversation and looked over your way.

Seeing you staring he gives you a small smirk and a wink before mouthing “see something you like?” You swear he flexed his arms a bit as he did that.

The smirk on his face grows as you feel your face heat up, hightailing it out of the debriefing room and making your way back to your office. It’s quite a while before your blush goes away, and more than one person asks if you’re feeling well.

The next time you saw him was a bit more hands-on and it still makes you clench your thighs together when you recall this particular memory. You’d been paired as sparring partners, and if you thought Rex looked good in his armour, he was downright edible stripped down to a simple training shirt and grey sweatpants. The shirt stretched in all the right places and the pants were loose enough to provide movement where it was needed, but just snug enough to tease you about what he was packing.

You were so distracted that he easily put you on your back, repeatedly. Each time he knocked you over his thighs would bracket your own, your hands pinned by your head and the rest of his body caging you in. How in the Sith hells were you supposed to concentrate if this was exactly where you wanted to be! You clawed at whatever self-restraint you still possessed to not rub up against him, but maker he made it difficult.

After the final throw Rex settled on your thighs and smirked down at you “What’s the matter mesh’la?” He took in your flushed cheeks, “You seem distracted, I didn’t think you’d take everything I gave you so easily.”

Your face was on fire, your brain traitorously giving you ideas of what else you’d take from him, and how well you’d enjoy it.

“Surely you can get me on my back.” You eyes snapped up to his, “all you need to do is use your hips and thrust.”

Fuck.

You felt yourself get wet as a throb built up between your legs from just his voice alone. You needed to finish whatever this had become so you could finish your own needs, preferably in the privacy of your own bunk. With a strength that surprised even you, you took Rex’s advice to thrust your hips up, bracing you leg to provide enough leverage to push him over. The look of surprise on his face that you took his words to heart was something you would never forget.

As you settled over his waist, his hands came up to your sides, sliding down to rest on your hips, keeping you in place.

“Knew you could do it” His surprise had turned into a beatific smile, looking up at you as his hands squeezed your hips. “Good girl.”

The triumphant words die on your lips as you look down at him and see exactly how you’re positioned. Your hands are braced on his chest and your thighs have splayed out to the sides to fit over his waist. There is a pleasant ache along your inner thighs from the stretch. If anyone saw the suggestive scene of the pair of you right now, the gossip hotline would be buzzing for months. You made a motion to move but Rex’s hands keep you snug against himself. His thumbs had made their way under the edge of your shirt and traced light circles over your skin. Arousal flooded your veins and you felt your slick starting to soak your panties.

You look back up to Rex’s face and he tightens his grip “See something you like mesh’la?”

Before you could answer the door burst open, causing the two of you to startle, zoning back in to the present. Chatter filled the room as Wolffe and Gregor brought in the next group of ‘shinies’ for sparring practice. The bubble of intimacy had burst and you hurriedly got off Rex, babbling some thanks about the advice before bolting out of the room. That was six weeks ago, the Ghost having left on a mission, taking Rex with them.

The buzzer in your booth goes off, signalling the end of the simulation. You’re not ready to head back to the responsibilities of intelligence just yet, so you up the intensity of another exercise and when you’re happy with your rhythm, let your thoughts turn back to Rex.

He’d become the prominent figure in all your fantasies. Before that, neither your toys or your hands would work to get you off, leaving you frustrated and horny. In a fit of desperation you thought back to your spar, but instead of sitting on Rex’s waist you were sitting on his face.

You imagined how his arms would wrap around your thighs, muscles flexing to make sure you stay exactly where he wants you to, and that’s on his tongue. Moans fill the room as he slowly eats you out, long licks up your folds to harsh sucks on your clit. The vibrations from his groans sending you spiralling to the edge, only for him to back off when you’re so close, leaving you sobbing and trembling with need. He’d leave little nibbles and bites along your inner thighs as he waits for the trembling to stop, and his beard, fuck. Rex would nuzzle the side of his face along your legs, leaving more marks that you were his. Letting you know that he was the only one that could give you the satisfaction you craved. You’d squirm, just to feel him tighten his hold, knowing that he controlled your pleasure.

“Look at me,” he’d growl before licking up your slit, drinking you down, “want you to keep your eyes on me when you cum on my tongue.” This sends another rush of slick from your core, the feeling in your belly coiled tight, waiting to snap. You yelp as there’s a sharp bite to your thigh.

“You like it when I tell you to watch” Rex grins from between your thighs, and you can see the evidence of your arousal glistening on his beard. Stars that is hot. There is a feral look in his golden eyes “Next time I’ll make sure to fuck you in front of a mirror, show you how wet you get for me.”

Your needy whine of approval turns into a lascivious moan as Rex plunges his tongue into your heat, rapidly bringing your orgasm back to the edge, but this time he doesn’t stop. His tongue speeds up, alternating between fluttering around your opening and pushing in as far as he can, nose pressed into your clit. All too soon you’re flying over the edge into sweet oblivion.

With a choked scream you cum, legs clamped tight around Rex’s head, his arms pulling you closer as his tongue working furiously to collect everything that you give him. He groans in delight and that sets off another small orgasm which has you seeing white. When you finally come down from your high you look back down at Rex, a blissed out expression on your face.

Rex has to practically lift you off him, moving you down so that you’re straddling his waist and conveniently nestling his cock between your folds, and that’s another part of him you’re all too eager to get to know.

As you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, Rex puts a hand around the back of your neck, pulling your closer. You don’t need to be force sensitive to feel how smug he is, it’s written all over his face and the possessive arm draped around your waist.

He nuzzles your nose when you’re close enough, before whispering two devastating words “Good girl.”

A blaring sound yanks you out of your daydream, and you realize that you’ve stopped shooting at the targets. The noise is the warning alarm that the simulation will shut off after 30 more seconds of inactivity. What it is is an inconvenience. You slam the pause button a little more forcefully than you need to, too riled up from your own fantasy simulation. It seems to have worked a little too well, judging by ache between your legs.

Putting the safety back on your blaster, you drop it onto the shelf in front of the booth opening. Thinking back, there was something in Rex’s eyes as he called you “good girl” that you can’t quite put your finger on. Discovering that you enjoyed being praised was one thing, but it seemed that Rex was holding something back, something that had to do with that phrase. Not knowing what it was set you on edge, that it could be something about you and that feeling didn’t sit well.

There was just something about him that makes you crave his attention, wanting to please him so he’d call you “good girl” again. You shiver as you think about how he looked between your thighs, how wide you had to stretch to fit him between you legs.

You groan to yourself, knowing you’re well and truly gone on this man, and that you’d let him do whatever he wanted, just as long as you could be his good girl. You lean forward against the small shelf, burying your head in your arms.

“Fuuuuck me.”

“Am I interrupting something, mesh’la?”

To be continued

#Captain Rex #Rex #Oldman Rex #Rex x reader #Rebel Rex x reader #First fic #Yay me #Cue internal panic #Started from a blurb now we're here #Inspired by art #I need a Rex in my life

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