I wish irl grinding was as fun as in videogames tbh. Like yeah i need to go to work a thousand times but after that i have enough materials to buy a house. But alas, houses arent real
Reader gets their wisdom teeth removed and Andre picks them up! Ow, ow, ow! and yum, yum, yum! - Dubcon - Sadism - bf!Andre - no use of Y/N - reader is on meds!! - Reader is not described -
Your parents had work, plus you were old enough to handle yourself by now, weren't you? Getting your wisdom teeth removed was a natural step in your journey to adulthood, and your boyfriend Andre had agreed to come pick you up. What he did not expect was that you would be this out of it. You cried all the way home, yelling about there being things in your mouth and how you don't want anyone to know that you watch anime sometimes. It was amusing at first, then it became extremely irritating. When Andre parked in your driveway, he jumped out of the car and slammed the door, pacing a few times before he came around to get you. You were being insane. Was anesthesia really this powerful?
"You hate me!" You yelledβor tried to yellβhitting him with a weak arm. All this because he slammed a door?
"I don't hate you." Andre unbuckled your seatbelt and started grappling you out of the car. In this moment, he was more than glad you had hedges that blocked the view from your neighbors.
"Hate meβand there's- there's teeth in my mouth! I can't feel.. anything." You sniffled, being dragged to the door, "You're sooo strong."
When Andre finally got you inside, he was fed up. You pulled the gauze out of your mouth and threw them in the toilet, you tripped over a sock and cried, and now you were on the floor refusing to get in your bed.
Andre grabbed either of your arms, trying to pull you up. He said your name harshly. "Come on. Get in bed." He said through gritted teeth. You pressed your hands against his hips, pushing him away and saying you wouldn't in a confused slur of words. "Jesus Christ, just get up!"
Your fingers dug into his jeans. "You get up!" You hissed back. Your eyes were glossy, and when you talked a little blood found its way to the corners of your mouth. Andre couldn't help but enjoy the sight in front of himβyou grovelling on the floor, pouty and loopy with your hands on him.
"I could get it up, for this." Andre's hand brushed the back of your head. It's not that he wanted to hurt you or anything, at least not too bad, but you looked really pretty down there. Maybe it was a bad joke to makeβmaybe he had said it too grimly, because you pulled away and looked up at him with wide eyes.
"What..?"
He didn't like that. He didn't like that you seemed to expect such abuse from him. You were his partner, his love, and right now you were his responsibility. The hand that was on you threaded through your hair, pulling your head back slightly. "Oh, you're so pretty like this, aren't you?" He cooed your name in that mocking tone he used when you were being 'retarded.' He was pissed. "I bet you don't even know what's going on. Who am I? Who's dick are you sitting in front of?"
You were confused, but not completely out of it. You could barely feel the bottom half of your face, the dead weight making it as if your lips weren't yours. You stared up at him, your arms hanging down in your lap. "You're my boyfriend," you replied carefully, moving your hands to hold the back of his calves.
"Yeah, and you're not scared of your boyfriend, right?" His grip became tighter. It contrasted the lack of feeling in the lower half of your head, which almost felt goodβbut you were concerned more than anything.
"No..." you still carry that unsurity in your tone, the unsurity that sometimes blinds Andre with anger. He stares at you for a moment before cursing under his breath and letting go of your hair.
"You're fuckin' stupid." He grumbles, making you whine. He knows his face is red now, and since the start of this conversation his jeans have felt a little uncomfortable. He continued to mumble to himself, thinking it over. "...pissing me off ... always acting like ... have to pick you up..." You wait, surprisingly patient despite your current state, slowly leaning closer to his legs. Eventually he pushes you back by the shoulder, holding you in place. With a rough motion he undoes his belt, ripping at it only needing to use one hand. You're not sure what to think. When you shift in the floor, he barks your name, telling you to stay put as he squeezes his thumb into your collarbone. You wince and stop. He has to take his hand off you to actually get his pants off, ripping the button and zipper open in one aggressive motion. He kicks his pants off behind him clumsily, having to lean over and pull the waistband over his foot. You're watching in fearful fascination as he captures your face with a hand. His thumb digs into one cheek and his middle and ring the other. You can feel it slightly, a dull ache. A bit of blood runs down your bottom lip, forced into a squished position. Andre is grinning as he finally pulls down his boxers, already hard. "Don't be scared," he said as he squeezes your cheeks. That dull ache making itself known as you whined and tried to pull away. Andre's hand eases up, sliding down your throat and then exploring until it lands on your nape. "Open."
You don't know why you listen. He says you shouldn't be scaredβyou are. Your mouth hangs open, at least you're pretty sure it does because you can't exactly feel your lips or chin like you should. All you can feel is where his hand was and where your sutures are. A rush of warm runs down your spine as his fingers squeeze you. Andre groans, "I wish you were always this fuckin' easy," he says, rubbing his tip across your lips. The little bit of blood from earlier smearing against him and staining pink red. Something nags the back of your mind, telling you to mind future pain.
"Andreβ" You try to speak, but he pushes himself into your mouth and stifles a weak moan, his head falling back. It feels weird, you can tell he's in your mouth but can't exactly feel what's happening. He twitches against your tongue and you feel a sharp pain shoot through the back of your mouth where you used to have extra teeth. "Ow!" you whine, not coherent with his cock in your mouth.
"Shut up." He snaps, slowly pulling back and then pushing forward as he holds you in place by the back of your neck. You can feel tears welling in your eyes, and when he looks down at you that familiar wicked smile creeps up his jaw. "Look at you, drooling all over my cock." He buries himself deeper this time, making you gag. "Fffuckin' whore." When he pulls back, almost all the way out, blood is smeared across the sides of his dick. He obviously likes it. You can't really cough or clear your throat, that shooting pain climbing up your teeth if you try. You're hyper aware of the feeling of your sutures against your molars. You guess that Andre isn't prepared to wait, your tears starting to fall down your face as he rams back in. "Oh, fuck," he groans, forcing you down by the neck as he moves forward in unison. Searing pain explodes in your mouth, and you claw at the skin of his legs trying to fight the hand on your neck. He practically growls in response, using both hands on the back of your head to keep you where he wants you. "βBet you fuckin' like this. You like this, don't you?" He coos your name so sweetly that you almost can't believe he's brutalizing you this way. "You do." He continues to ramble through groans as he slams into your mouth and down your throat. Your throat feels like it's on fire, you're trying to breathe through your nose but barely can. "Ah- Ah, fuck I'mβ" He slams into your throat, pressing your nose into his abdomen. He twitches in your mouth and spills directly down your throat. After a couple seconds of catching his breath he finally pulls back and lets you breathe. A dark pinkish mix of fluids covers his cock and dribbles down your numb chin. You're crying, hiding behind your hands. Your mouth feels raw and burning, the sensation of friction making your teeth ache. Andre is petting your head. You try to speak but it comes out strangled and incomprehensible.
Andre let's out a frustrated sigh, pulling his boxers up from his thighs. "Come here," he says, helping you up and then into your bed. "I'll get you some Tylenol."
Fic where Adrian Chase thinks you would never like him, but in the car after a mission a conversation you have makes him realize you enjoy his antics and would at least hook up with him. He can't wait, he throws the seat back and climbs on top of you!!!! wow. what an idea I'm so peak
I had a dream of an au where Whitaker decides to move to a small town and be a doctor there, maybe the head doctor?
and a little while later Dr Robby is just so overwhelmed from stress but the conditions of the ER are getting better so he leaves. He (coincidentally) moves the same small town... to be a veterinarian
Whitaker's cat isn't doing so well. Whitaker had always had a crush on Dr Robby, but well that would be inappropriate.
Dr Robby never wanted to admit this, but he was a little more than just fond of Whitaker as well.
Bob Floyd has a crush on the air traffic controller with the pretty voice.
The air traffic controller has a crush on the quiet WSO.
Nat is determined to get them to meet.
part ii - seeing you
TAGS/WARNINGS:
explicit content (18+ minors do not interact), female reader insert, no use of y/n, not beta read, reader is an air traffic controller at NAS north island (take the jargon with a grain of salt), very requited crush, flirty jake seresin, wingwoman natasha, light alcohol consumption, semi-public sex (bobβs truck), making out, dry humping, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk.
The sky is just barely starting to lighten from an inky black to mottled blue when you swipe into the Cab, floor-to-ceiling windows giving you a birdβs eye view of the airfield below. Itβs quiet this morning, conversation dialed to a low murmur. You get a few nods of acknowledgement as the door closes behind you with a soft click and you cross the room to your console, setting your travel mug of coffee down and tapping your workstation awake.
βWeβve got Dagger Squad again this morning,β your coworker, Jason, says with a yawn, rolling his chair beside yours. βLast drill of the week.β
You hum. βFlyovers are easy. Roosterβs leading the first run.β
βNice. At least weβll start off strong and not with someone trying to show off before the sun is even up.β
βAnd by someone you mean Hangman.β
βBingo.β
You plug your headset into the jack and lift it over your head. βMaybe if weβre lucky Maverick will knock his ego down a couple pegs.β
βA couple pegs ainβt nothinβ for that one.β
You look down at the tarmac. The Super Hornets are lined up on the apron, gleaming beneath the floodlights. Thereβs movement below, tiny figures in flight suits and high visibility vests going through pre-flight procedures. Youβve always thought they looked like ants from up here.
Jet engines roar to life. Ground crews start to disperse. The aviators climb into their birds and get themselves situated. You press the button on your mic.
βDagger Squad, Tower. Runway two seven is active. Taxi via Alpha, hold short at two seven. Launch order as briefed, Rooster in the lead. Call when youβre ready,β you say, the words sharp in the quiet room.
βTower, Dagger zero two β wilco, taxiing via Alpha,β Rooster replies.
βNot even a good morning?β A female voice asks. You chuckle.
βGood morning, Phoenix,β you say to your friend. βAnd good morning, Bob.β
βOh, uhβ¦good morning,β Bob replies. You bite your lip, fighting a smile.
Natashaβs backseater, a WSO by the name of Bob Floyd, caught your attention when he first arrived to base. He wasnβt like some of the other aviators on the newly formed squad, loud and cocky with egos to match, and he didnβt clog up your radio with unnecessary chatter. He was sure, steady, and good at his job. Nat had nothing but good things to say about him whenever his name came up in conversation.
Which, youβll admit, it often does.
Down on the runway, Phoenix smirks, switching to intercom. βYou okay back there, Bob?β
βWhy wouldnβt I be?β He asks.
βJust making sure you didnβt burst into flames.β
Bob doesnβt reply, focusing instead on the systems in front of him. His cheeks are flushed, the direct result of hearing your voice over the radio β sharp, controlled, a little raspy this early in the morning.
βI could introduce you,β Nat says. βIf you want.β
βI donβt know what youβre talking about,β he mumbles.
The first time Bob heard your voice over the radio, he knew he was in trouble. You were calm and confident, a force to be reckoned with, and when your laugh crackled through the radio, his heart started racing the same way it did during take off.
Despite never having seen you before, his crush on you took root and refused to budge. Nat, always observant, noticed it right away and has been trying to play matchmaker ever since.
Itβs not that he doesnβt want to meet you. He does.
But heβs also justβ¦Bob. Quiet, observant, a little awkward. He worries that youβd meet him and be disappointed, that maybe someone like Jake or Bradley or Javy would be a better match.
βDagger zero two, Tower,β your voice says in his ear.
Bob shakes his head to clear his thoughts and focus on the drill, a time-on-target run that means he has to be locked in to make sure the strike lands with precision.
βWind two nine zero at six, runway is clear.β
Bradley taxis the plane down the runway and Nat follows into position. Bob taps his fingers on his knee, the adrenaline starting to kick in.
βTower, Dagger zero two is ready.β
βDagger zero two, you are cleared for take-off, runway two seven. Good luck.β
The jet engine roars to life as Bradley speeds down the runway before lifting off into the sky. Nat eases the jet forward.
βTower, Dagger zero three holding short for two. Ready.β
βDagger zero three, cleared for take off.β Thereβs a brief pause before you add, βDo a flip.β
Nat laughs, the sound drowned out by the afterburners as she takes off. After climbing a few thousand feet, she spins the jet in the air. Bobβs back slams into the seat and he lets out a breathless laugh.
βI give it a six out of ten,β you say. Nat groans.
βTough crowd,β she grumbles, veering off to join Bradley.
The two jets fly together in perfect sync, level in the sky with Bradley in the lead and Nat following close behind. Bobβs focus remains on the navigation, watching the position as they approach the waypoint.
βDagger three, time check,β Bradley calls on the comms. βTarget flyover in two minutes, mark on 0700.β
βCopy,β Nat replies.
You watch from the tower, clipboard in hand. Todayβs target is unmarked, just coordinates for a spot in the ocean, making it a more difficult run than a terrain drill. The clock above your console glows red, time ticking closer to the mark. Roosterβs voice sounds over your headset.
βTower, Dagger zero two and zero three inbound for flyover.β
βCopy, Dagger zero two. Tower standing by for time,β you call back.
βQuick push, eight knots,β Bob says to Nat. She nudges the throttle forward, picking up speed. βPerfect, hold it. Weβll be right on top.β
βIβm counting on it,β Nat replies.
Bob smiles beneath his mask and begins to count down under his breath.
Five, four, three, twoβ
Bradley speeds over the mark, Nat following closely behind him. You scribble the time on your clipboard.
βDagger zero two and zero three, flyover complete. Nice job,β you tell them. βA double zero. Impressive, Bob.β
Bob blinks, surprised by the compliment. βT-thanks,β he manages to stutter.
Nat follows Bradley back towards base, keeping in tight formation. Bobβs thoughts are a loop of your praise.
βTower, Dagger zero two and zero three inbound,β Bradley says.
βDagger zero two, pattern is clear,β you reply.
Bradley lands first, followed by Nat, the impact of touchdown jolting Bob in his seat. The aircraft director waves them forward off the landing area and Nat steers the plane into park. The deck crew gives her the okay to kill the engine and Bobβs ears ring in the silence of the turbofan going still.
The canopy lifts and Bob removes his mask, taking a deep breath of the salty air. Ground crew gathers around the jet, going through the post-flight check. Nat unbuckles her harness and eases out of the cockpit first, climbing down the ladder with practiced efficiency.
Bob moves slowly, his stiff limbs making him feel like a newborn calf. He climbs down the ladder and joins Nat on the tarmac, tugging his helmet off and holding it in his hand. Bradley approaches, followed by Jake, Reuben, and Mickey, who are suited up for the next run.
βDamn, Baby-On-Board. That was clean,β Jake says, a heavy hand landing on Bobβs shoulder. βDonβt know if Fanboy is going to beat that.β
βIf he does, Iβll buy his drinks tonight,β Nat chimes in.
βHow the hell am I supposed to beat a double zero?β Mickey asks.
Nat smirks. βExactly.β
Bradley, Bob, and Natasha return to the ready room, where Maverick already has the playback ready on the monitors.
βThat might have been the cleanest run Iβve seen out of this squad. Tight formation, quick adjustments,β Maverick says with a sharp nod. βNice job, Lieutenant Floyd.β
βThank you, sir,β Bob replies.
After theyβve been dismissed, Nat drags Bob down to mess for breakfast. She sits across the table from him, picking at her eggs while he sips from his styrofoam cup of coffee.
βYou coming out with us tonight?β She asks. βIβll buy you a drink.β
βMaybe,β he replies. She lifts an eyebrow at him.
βCome on, youβve blown us off like, three times now. Thatβs bad for morale.β
βYou know I donβt like crowds.β
βWhen half the crowd is your squad, thatβs hardly an excuse.β
He sighs. βFine, Iβll be there.β
Nat gives him a wide smile.
He doesnβt notice the mischievous glint in her eye.
Nat: Hard Deck tonight?
Nat: You canβt say no
Nat: I know youβre off tomorrow.
You laugh at the series of texts from Nat. Youβre back in your apartment early in the afternoon, enjoying the extra downtime β a benefit of working an 0500 flight drill with the Daggers.
Yeah, Iβll come, you reply.
Later, you arrive at the Hard Deck a little earlier than Natβs suggested time. The small bar is busy but not yet packed and you easily find a spot to squeeze into, flagging down Penny. The older woman smiles at you.
βHey, stranger,β she says. βLong time no see.β
βDid you miss me?β You ask. She chuckles.
ββCourse I did.β She grabs a glass from beneath the bar. βThe usual?β
βPlease.β
You take a moment to scan the room, recognizing a few faces from around the base. By the pool tables, you spot a group of men playing a game. A tall man with neatly combed blonde hair and Navy issue glasses leans over the table, lining up a shot and sinking two solid colored balls into separate pockets.
Heβs cute in that unassuming kind of way. The sleeves of his shirt highlight the lean muscle of his arms and the fabric stretches nicely over broad shoulders that dip into a narrow waist. Penny sets a drink by your elbow and you hand her some cash with a quick thank you, your attention drawn back to the man.
βWell if it ainβt the princess herself, visiting us from her tower,β a voice drawls from beside you. Jake grins at you when you look over at him, his eyes flicking down your body. βLookinβ good, by the way.β
βHangman,β you sigh.
Jake was the first of Natβs squad members that you met after befriending her. Heβs loudmouthed, cocky, and he flies just the same. Youβve had to correct him from the tower on more than one occasion.
βWhat, youβre not happy to see me?β He asks, mock hurt. βBecause Iβm sure happy to see you, darlinβ.β
You roll your eyes. βNot after the shit you pulled during your drill.β
βI was just showinβ off for you.β
βFive seconds ahead of mark isnβt anything to be proud of.β
βYou wound me,β he says. The door opens and you spot Nat, waving her over.
βSave me,β you whisper loudly when sheβs close enough to hear you.
βBagman, quit bothering my favorite controller,β Nat says, slinging an arm over your shoulder. βSheβs too good for you, anyway.β
βSomething we can agree on,β Jake says, winking at you. βFine. You know where to find me.β
βDonβt count on it.β
Jake disappears through the crowd, heading straight for the pool tables. He greets the men with friendly familiarity, patting each of them on the back.
βHeβs relentless,β Nat says. βIt would be admirable if it wasnβt so pathetic.β
Penny comes by, greeting Nat and taking her order. Your friend requests a second drink for you on her tab, despite your objections. When her beer and your fresh glass are delivered, Nat grabs your arm and drags you over to the pool tables.
βI knew you couldnβt stay away, princess,β Jake says. βYou want to play?β
βI donβt know how,β you tell him. Beside you, Nat hides her laugh in her drink.
βThatβs okay, Iβm a real good teacher.β
βAlright, fine, Iβll give it a shot,β you relent. While Jake sets up the table, you say hello to Reuben, or Payback as you know him over the radio, the other member of Natβs squad that youβve met in person. You introduce yourself to the rest of the unfamiliar faces, putting names to voices and call signs.
The tall blonde man from earlier is sitting down now and you catch him staring at you before he ducks his head and focuses intently on picking the label of his beer bottle with his thumb nail. Youβre about to approach him when Jake shoves a pool cue in your hands and says, βLadies first.β
Jake is rambling on about how to play pool as you line up a shot, striking the racked balls with impressive precision, three solid balls sinking into pockets. Jake frowns across the table. You come around to his side and lean over for another shot, sinking another ball.
βForget princess,β he grumbles. βYouβre a shark.β
Some times later, the game finishes in your favor and you hand your cue to Nat to take the next game. You pat Jake on the back.
βBetter luck next time, Bagman,β you tell him.
The blonde man is still sitting in the same spot. He looks up at you when you approach him, pretty blue eyes going wide.
βHi,β you tell him. βWe havenβt met yet.β
Itβs you, he thinks. The air traffic controller. If he thought your voice was pretty over a staticky radio, nothing could have prepared him for hearing it in person. Heβs surprised you noticed him over here β you looked like you were having a good time with Jake, destroying him in a game of pool.
He suddenly realizes youβre waiting for him to respond but heβs been staring at you.
βNo, uh, donβt think we have,β he says.
You take a seat on the stool beside him, keeping yourself angled towards him.
βYou must be Bob,β you say, reaching a hand out and introducing yourself.
He huffs a laugh. βWhat gave me away?β
βYouβre quiet.β You donβt say it like itβs a bad thing. Just a truth, an observation. He ducks his head and you add, βI like quiet.β
For the rest of the night, you sit beside Bob, drawn into conversation with the man. Itβs a little awkward at first but once Bob starts to get comfortable, the shy WSO really starts to open up and you canβt help but be drawn to the sweet, funny guy he reveals to you.
βWell. Iβll be damned,β Jake says, watching the two of you across the room. Youβre leaned in close, laughing at something Bob said, your hand on his bicep. The man looks like heβs about to combust. βBobβs got an audience tonight.β
βIβve been trying to make this happen for months,β Nat tells him. βDonβt you dare do anything to screw it up.β
βRoger,β he replies with a mock salute, returning his attention to the dart board.
Penny shouts for last call and Bob looks up, surprised to see how empty the bar has gotten. He checks his watch.
βI donβt remember the last time I was out this late,β he says. You smile at him.
βTime flies when youβre having fun,β you tease. βBut I guess itβs time to head out.β
Disappointment settles in his chest. βRight, yeah. We shouldβ¦go.β
Bob walks with you out of the bar, hands shoved in his pockets so that he doesnβt give in to the intense urge to pull you into him. The air is a little colder now that the sun has set and he notices the way you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself.
βHowβre you getting home?β He asks.
βI was going to walk. My apartment isnβt too far once you get off base,β you tell him.
βI can give you a ride.β
βYou donβt have toββ
βPlease,β he interrupts. βItβs late and cold. My mama would be disappointed in me if I didnβt.β
You give him a soft smile. βI definitely donβt want you disappointing your mama.β
He leads you through the parking lot to his pick up truck and unlocks the doors, opening yours for you. He waits until youβve settled into the passenger seat before shutting the door and jogging around to the driverβs side.
The short ride to your apartment is quiet, the silence broken only by your occasional directions. Itβs not awkward but something settles between you that makes his heart pound frantically against his ribs, blood rushing in his ears.
Bob pulls into a spot near your building, putting the truck in park. Itβs late enough that your complex is quiet, the parking lot dark and empty. You unbuckle your seatbelt but you donβt reach for the door, turning to face him instead, one leg tucked beneath you.
βI had a lot of fun tonight,β you tell him.
βMe, too,β he replies. He clears his throat. His eyes drop to your mouth, gaze drawn to your lips like a magnet.
βAre you going to kiss me, Bob?β You whisper.
βDo you want me to?β He asks, just as quiet.
You nod your head. He swallows nervously, unbuckling his seatbelt before leaning toward you and lifting a hand to cup your cheek. You tilt your head into his touch, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. His thumb drags across your bottom lip and when your mouth opens with a small sigh, he pulls you in for a kiss.
Itβs the kind of kiss that makes your blood run hot in your veins, slow and sure and deep. You shift a little closer, the center console pressing uncomfortably into your stomach but you donβt care, not enough to stop, not enough to pull away from the intoxicating warmth of his mouth. His tongue tangles with yours and thereβs an unexpected confidence in the way he tilts your head to his liking, chasing the best angle.
He pulls back suddenly and before you can ask whatβs wrong, heβs reaching beneath the center console flipping it up, removing the annoying barrier. You grin at him.
βThatβs convenient.β He laughs, the sound a deep rumble in the quiet of the cab.
βCβmere,β he says, a little breathless, the words stringing together. You shuffle a bit closer and he wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you across the seat until youβre in his lap, legs open over his thighs and the steering wheel at your back. He runs his palms up your thighs and traces the curve of your waist. βYou areβgodβyouβre a dream, you know that?β
He says it so earnestly, like itβs an undeniable truth, and something in you cracks. You kiss him again, harder this time, a little desperate. Your hands are in his hair, messing up the neatly combed strands. He groans when you tighten your grip, his hands squeezing your hips.
βYou have no idea,β he murmurs, lips leaving messy kisses across your jaw, down to your neck, βhow long Iβve wanted this.β
βReally?β You ask. He nods against you, sucking the sensitive skin over your pulse between his teeth.
βFirst time I heard you,β he says, βon the radio. Prettiest voice Iβd ever heard, right in my ear.β
You rock your hips, moaning when you feel the hard length of him beneath you. He slips a hand beneath the hem of your t-shirt, reaching up to tug the cup of your bra down to expose the tight bud of your nipple. He pinches it lightly, making you gasp.
βKnew youβd make some pretty noises, too.β
He lifts your shirt, just enough that he can get his mouth on you. He sucks your nipple between his lips, swirling his tongue around it before releasing it with an obscene pop and moving to your other breast to give it the same attention. You squirm in his lap, your core aching for friction.
Bob lifts his head, looking up at you. His hair is a mess and his blue eyes are dark behind his slightly foggy glasses, splotches of pink coloring his cheeks.
βCan I eat you out?β He asks. βPlease?β
He asks so eagerly, so sweetly, that all you can do is nod your head and let him guide you down to your back on the seat beside him. His hands reach for your jeans, his fingers deftly popping the button and dragging the zipper down.
He tugs the denim over your hips and down your thighs, freeing one of your legs completely but leaving the fabric gathered in a heap around your other ankle. You sit up a little to give him some space, your back pressed to the door. He settles between your thighs, staring down at you with a hungry look in his eye.
He rests his heavy palm on your mound, dipping his thumb down to drag it over the wet spot thatβs formed on the gusset of your underwear. He grazes your clit and you gasp, flexing your hips to chase the sensation. His other hand presses your hips down into the seat.
βYouβre so wet, baby,β he says, voice low and steady. βYou want to take care of you?β
βMhm,β you hum, your head thumping against the car door when he draws slow circles over your clit.
He slides his hand beneath the elastic of your underwear, finally touching you. Itβs lewd and messy, the way he swipes his calloused fingers over your slick heat. You can hear how wet you are, even above the blood rushing in your ears and the sound of your breathing.
He pulls your underwear down to your knees and ducks beneath them, his face close enough to your cunt that you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, making you shiver in anticipation. He kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other, before licking through your folds with a satisfied groan.
Bob takes off his glasses, tossing them on the dash with little regard for whether they remain in one piece. He doesnβt care, heβll get new ones if he has to.
He tastes you again, licking a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit before circling his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. You reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair and he outright moans against your pussy, tongue moving faster.
Youβre so on edge that you know this wonβt last long, not with the way he eats you like a man who just stumbled across an oasis in a desert. You can feel the combination of spit and slick dripping to the seat below you as you grind yourself against his mouth.
βLook at me,β he says, pausing for only long enough to get the words out. You lift your head and he holds your gaze as his attention returns to your clit.
His vision is blurry without his glasses but he can still see the way your eyes roll back when he flicks his tongue just right or how your mouth drops open and the sweetest sound heβs ever heard spills from your lips when he sucks your clit between his lips and hums.
βBobβfuckβoh my god,β you cry, trying to keep your voice low, trying to remain cognizant of the fact that you never even made it out of this manβs truck before he was between your thighs.
He slides two fingers inside of you and you moan, long and loud and desperate, that knot of release growing impossibly tighter. He drags his fingers along your front wall, hitting a spot that makes the knot unravel, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, every nerve lighting up with the euphoria of it.
Bob reaches down to press a hand to his cock, rutting into his palm. It only takes a few flexes of his hips for him to come in his pants like a teenager, sticky heat filling his boxers as he moans, his forehead pressed to your thigh.
βHoly shit,β you gasp. βThat wasββ
βGood?β He asks hopefully. Your answering giggle is a little wild, a little incredulous.
βGreat. Amazing. Spectacular,β you assure him. He smiles against your skin.
When heβs caught his breath, he sits up and helps you get your underwear back in place. You shimmy back into your jeans, sweat damp skin making the effort more harrowing than it has any right to be. Bob reaches for his glasses and puts them on, blinking at the adjustment to his vision. Once youβre dressed, you turn towards him again.
βI canββ
βI already, uhββ
βOh.β You bite your lip. βMaybe next time?β
βYeah?β He asks. You nod.
βDefinitely.β
You lean forward and he meets you halfway, capturing your lips with his, matching wide smiles making it less of a kiss and more of a shared breath. You pull back, reaching up to smooth his hair into place.
βWhereβs your phone?β You ask. He reaches into his back pocket for it, handing it to you.
You dial your number and save it into his contacts. βCall me tomorrow.β
βYes mβam,β he answers.
You give him one last lingering kiss before opening the passenger door and hopping out of his truck, shutting the door behind you. He doesnβt start the truck until he sees you disappear through one of the apartment doors.
As heβs driving home, his phone pings with a new message. He checks it when heβs back on base.
Maybe he wouldn't talk to a person. Not because he didn't want to or anything like that. But even then he would note every little thing about that person.
What they acted like around certain people or when doing certain things. When they were nervous and what made them calm down. If they'd prefer to be talked to or rather left alone.
Maybe he didn't notice the other things. Like if they were feeling sad or angry. Now, obviously he can see when someone's sad. But if it's deep set or an ongoing thing and they're working to hide it, have been for a while. He can clock that something is going on, but can't really piece together what's going on behind the happy face.
In the moment stuff.
That's what he's quick to pick up on.
Like on the first meet or when he's assigned to a task with a person for a short period of time. He can pretty much guess what they're feeling rather quickly.
He likes to solve problems.
So whenever he gets a sense of something going on, he'll try different methods to help out -make them smile, forget what's going on for a moment. Try and make their day.
Once he figures out the right method, he doesn't forget. Keeps it tucked it away in case he sees that person again.
And that's just with strangers, new people.
So imagine how much he notices about someone he gets close to?
When he gets close to you?
And starts developing feelings after spending so much time watching you.
Not in a creepy way! Just paying attention. The general idea he gets about your person becoming clearer the longer you spend together.
You laugh when he says things, even when he's not trying to be funny. Sit with him during your free hours. Talk to him about random things. Smile at him just cause.
He already found you cute when you'd first met. Never said anything cause that'd be weird. But time seems to make you becoming more beautiful each time he sees you.
You seem to like him.
He senses you're comfortable around him. You seek him out a lot. You're a lot more open with him than you are with others. Something he notices before you even tell him that.
But you're not interested in him the way he is.
You like ... the exact opposite of him.
So it leaves a dull sting at the bottom of his heart knowing he didn't have a chance.
But he's not possessive.
He's happy to keep being just your close friend since he liked you even before his feelings developed. He was supportive. And would rather keep watching out for you if he couldn't be "the one."
He listens to you talk about your crushes. Gets a read on them before telling you his honest opinion on if you should go for it or not then explains why.
At least, he used to be able to do all that just fine till now.
Now where you're both close with all the team, required to come together often, not much chance to go out and see other people, force to form bonds you'd remember for a lifetime.
And Bob has to watch you pine for the guy just so not like him.
See him flirt with you. Watch your heart flutter as you catch the wink they send. That sly grin, teeth showing as they lean against the wall, far too casual in getting close than he should be.
Watch that grin of yours spead. All genuine and hopeful as you say your goodbyes for the day. Giddy as you come back to Bob's side. Eyes saying you'd be talking about the encounter once you were out of earshot of the guy.
And then watch you again when the flirtation goes on for too long and you start feeling dejected by how your chats are leading you nowhere despite how much you want them to.
And that dull ache he felt when realizing it'd never be him becomes worse as he realizes watching you like this is far worse than what he resigned himself to.
"Maybe it's me, Bob," you tell him finally on a late night out at the beach.
You sit on a stoop, side by side, a small gap between the two of you. No thighs touching or shoulders bumping. Something he'd like.
At some point after your arrival here, a silence draped over you two as you stare off at the setting sun across the waves, he'd given in to his thoughts.
Sliding his hand slowly closer to yours about an inch every ten seconds until the sides of your pinkies grazed.
A pause.
Then moving again to rest the end of his hand just atop the end of yours.
Wait.
Then an inch again.
Process repeated until his hand fully enveloped yours.
Not holding not lacing, just resting there. Pensive.
His hand is warm over yours. The beach breeze nippy, making your skin take a slight chill.
He thinks you're greatful for his heat.
At least he hopes you are.
And you stay like that for a while. Not talking. Not looking. Just being.
Still.
Serene.
And then he feels your hand turn under his, flipping over to take proper hold of his hand, fingers laced together and all.
He doesn't look, not even a peek. But a smile grows as he stares out at the gleaming water, glasses slipping down his nose. He can tell his attempts to keep the grin at bay are failing. But you're not looking at him to see it, so it's fine.
Then you sit like that for a moment longer.
Till your heel starts to nervously kick against the stoop where you sit. Not harshly. Just thought filled. You want to tell him something but are worried of the response. He can tell.
But he won't say anything until you do.
Never does.
In this exact moment it's because he wants to just remember this day, this part of the day, clear to look back on in the future.
"No. It is me," you continue. "I pick them all wrong, Bob. And the thing is, I know I do! Right from the start I know they'll be that type. That they'll just talk and talk, making me feel all giddy, but never intend more than just one date. If you can even call what they have in mind that."
Your thumb nervously keeps running over his knuckles. He squeezes your hand. Little pulses to keep you steady. He hopes.
"But I just like those types! Annoying as it is. They make me feel so ... excited! Pumped to start chasing the moon and not come back. I like the flirts. The arrogant types. I dunno, they just seem so confident and I like that."
You let out a deflated sigh, laying back against the stoop, hands still connected, eyes on the sky.
"Maybe I should stop. Wait till I'm back home, give those guys there a chance. But ... I don't know ... they feel so ... desperate? That's not the word, I know. But they're just ... so willing to drop everything and marry me. Which is what I want, don't get me wrong. But the types I like make me work for it, y'know?"
Bob had turned his head to watch you by now, certain words pinging in his mind as you spoke.
You ran a hand through your hair before resting it beside you.
"They make me feel like I'm putting effort into it whereas the other guys make me feel like I don't have to do anything. Feels unfulfilling. I just don't get 'that feeling' when I imagine a life with the sweet ones compared to the type I like."
A sigh.
"Maybe I need to get my brain checked for all this. Force myself to go with the option I know could lead to what I want. That's what's best for me. Right?"
That last part was directed at him rather than just spoken to get it off your chest.
You were looking at him. A little sadness in the eyes, lips subconsciously curled into a pout.
It made him ache to see this.
He shifted his body more towards you, keeping his hand in yours. Nudging up his glasses a bit before speaking.
"It's okay to want that. Not everyone likes the same things."
He didn't plan on himself moving closer, inch by inch like he had with your hands, the pause in between.
But he didn't stop.
"But it's okay to not be the only one working for it either. You can get what you want with any type of person. But that's when you don't force it. When you don't go out there intending to find 'the one.' That feeling you're talking about will come along naturally too."
He was hovering just above your nose by now, eyes scanning yours as they always did.
He moved his free hand up, placing it on your stomach. Then flexed his fingers slightly.
Not intending anything.
Just ... doing.
And he felt that sharp inhale as he did it. How your body stayed tense, eyes widening with something he hadn't quite seen before.
He'd figure out what it was eventually.
"Personally, I feel you should be the one doing nothing. Make them work for it. You have a lot to offer. Make them want to see it ... the way I want to."
Again, a sharp breath and deep swallow.
He could feel himself burning up. A red forming from across his nose to each ear.
He swallowed as well, jaw squaring to stop himself from licking his lips.
He looked down to yours though, tempting thoughts coming to him again. But no. If he was going to do that, he was going to do it right.
But he still wanted to do something.
So after another pause, he leaned in, and pressed a kiss to your cheek.
"You're gonna be fine. If you think this guy is worth it," he shrugged pulling back, "then keep talking. I'll do something about him if it gets worse."
And he stayed sat back up for the rest of the night. Hand in yours. You still laying back. Quiet. Nothing else said other than "goodbye" when you parted for the night.
You didn't speak about that day moving forward.
Kept meeting each other during your usual times. Sitting together. Talking together. Smiling. Laughing.
Like normal.
But he has noticed you hang around that guy more. Talking.
Notices how open the guy has become. Sees him talk back more. Less smirky, more interested.
Sees how you hold both his hands and swing them absentmindedly as you talk.
How the guy spares looks his way more often.
He doesn't sense something mean. But it's odd.
And still he feels that ache in his chest.
And still he doesn't mention it.
Just smiles as you come back to him.
He expects things are going good. That maybe he'll have to settle his mind on the idea that you'll be around him less often in favor of the other guy.
But he'll be fine.
He'll keep observing from afar as he knows he's good at. Ready to keep you safe if need be.
He doesn't expect you pulling him aside one day as he enters the building, dragging him away from your group of people, into the hall, far away enough in case someone might hear.
His initial instinct is concern.
But then you take his hands in yours as you did the guy.
And you start talking, all held back smiles and averted eyes.
You look happy.
Perhaps you'd tell him that guy was the one.
Good for you.
"I know who I want now." You started.
And he smiled. "Good. That's good. Happy for you."
"Bob, I didn't think this would happen. Not to sound rude or anything, it's just ... y'know ... you're so ...," you paused, eyes flicking him up and down. "You?"
You giggled, swinging his hands nervously.
"Not my type at all you know?"
And his heart stilled.
He heard you. He know he did. He wasn't interpreting this wrong was he?
"I've always felt good about you, I love being with you. It's just ... that night at the beach? And you were all ... close ... and saying all that stuff? It gave me that feeling I said never get with your type. Worse than I've felt it with anyone. Well, not worse, that's not the word. And I don't mean to keep referring to you as a type like that's all I see you as! I don't! I truly don't. I just mean it as ... I just ... you know what I mean!"
He was not hearing this right.
There was no way.
"Look, Bob." You took a breath. "I don't know if that was just 'a moment' type of thing. But I've been talking to that guy and he thinks I should try it out."
Oh.
Right.
No way.
You chuckled looking down at the floor. "Y'know, he said he thought you and I were dating or had some history when we first met. That's a good thing right? A sign for potential good in the future?"
Wait ... way?
You shook your head, looking him in the eye now. "Point is, I want to try with you. Talk with you. Flirt with you. Date you. See if you're the guy I should've been looking for all along?"
... No way ....
You laughed nervously. "I- I know you're a quiet guy, Bob. But I kinda need you to respond to this."
That brought him back.
And he blinked once before rushing to cup your face in his hands and plant that kiss he'd been waiting so long to have.
This had to be a dream.
A damn good one if your hands felt that nice running through his hair to bring him closer.
His glasses were knocked askew, but he didn't care. Your lips felt too good on his. Soft and warm and more than he could hope for.
And maybe he got a bit overzealous, hardly pulling back before kissing you again and again with more force.
Not harsh or demanding.
Just ... desperate, maybe? Memorizing every little detail of the moment. The taste, the feel, the reaction, everything.
If this was just some cruel prank then he was making the most of it.
He felt you smile against him, hands on his chest to push him back, a soft whine escaping him as you separated yourself. Unintentional truly. He hardly noticed.
You giggled, lips sucked between your teeth as you caught your breath. "Easy, Floyd. You haven't even given me your answer yet."
"That wasn't enough?" He breathed out.
That laugh came again and he felt himself start to calm. Your hands reaching out set his glasses straight.
"I'd like verbal confirmation, Lieutenant."
"Oh my g- yes! Yes ... yes." He stated. "I would like that."
Then he paused, face flushing as it all caught up to him. Nervous laughter coming from him now.
"Oh my God. Sorry. Sorry ... sorry, I was ... s-sorry ... I'm sorry."
You chuckled, brushing his hair into place. "For what? I enjoyed that."
He let out a heavy sigh through his nose.
A pause.
And then?
He pulled you back in again. And again. And again.
hiii i see you've written Eugene Porter content before so i was wondering if you'd do something where reader has some kind of comfort item they feel like they have to hide it & he shows them the group will still care for them even if they're "different"?
any gender and any timeline!!! ^-^ thx 4 reading my request
Stop it this is so cute π and as someone with comfort items I love it.
Eugene did not expect to sneak up on you like he did. He never considered himself a light walker. His steps were fairly heavy, and his cargo pants were rather loud as they rubbed together.
You seemed caught off guard by his presence, though. You two were close. Friends, he would say. So he knew it was just out of surprise if being caught off guard.
"What's the matter?" He asked, a mellow tone.
"Oh, nothing." You were quick with your answer, and your hands hid something behind your back.
Suspicious.
"Is everything all right?" He was growing concerned. Should he be? Maybe you were sick. Or hurt.
"Why? I mean, yeah, but why are you asking?"
He shrugged, "You're just very stand off-ish right now, and you're hiding something behind your back from me. I don't imagine it's a gift for me either, so what is it?" He questioned you, playing with the hems of his shorts as he avoided your gaze. "If you don't mind me askin'." He followed up with his question.
You didn't know what to say, really. How did you tell someone you were carrying around your dead cats toy in the apocalypse.
"It's nothing," you sighed, and that seemed to raise more awareness.
"Look, you know I am not one to judge. Christ sake, I lied to keep my ass alive. Multiple times." He chuckled."Your secrets are always safe with me, I thought we established that."
Gosh, he was always so sweet to you. You wished you'd met him towards when this all started. He was that voice of reasoning and that source of comfort and safety that you needed.
"It's stupid," you mumbled, staring down at your feet. "Nothing you do it stupid, you always have a reasoning behind your actions. I admire you for it." You felt your face get hot. No one's ever been this sweet on you.
"Its my cat's favorite toy. He passed away before this all started, but I have always found it comforting. Almost like he's still with me." You rambled out, stuttering here and there over your words. Your eyes darting around the room as you told him.
He just smiled. You were just so damn cute. "Can I be honest with you?" You nodded your head to his question.
"I used to carry around comfort items, still do. Nothin' wrong with it, I don't think." He told you, watching as you fiddled with the toy between your fingers.
"You don't think it's stupid?" You asked, needing just a little more reassurance. "Not at all." That was all that he needed to say to you.
It was surprising what his opinion could do to change your entire stand point on things. "I actually kept that bracelet you gave me, jokingly I presume." He mumbled a little, you almost had to take a step closer to hear him. You couldn't move from where you were placed, though.
Did he really just tell you he kept that bracelet you tosses at him almost a month ago? It was nothing special, or fancy. A simple black beaded one that you found on the floor of a building the two of you were raiding, together. When you saw it you tossed it into his chest. Joking that it'd look nice on him. Add a little to his already peculiar style.
He seemed to take that to heart. Or in his own way he did. "I like playing with the beads when I'm nervous, plus. It reminds me of you, and that you're hopefully safe somewhere out there," he rambled on, his face tinted pink, now. You didn't know what to say.
"Is that stupid?" He asked you. His eyes darted left, then right. Refusing to make contact with yours. "No, I just can't believe I'm that important to you," you admitted.
Eugene didn't like that you thought so negatively on yourself. Of course you were important. Especially to himself. You saved him more times than he could count. You saved him from spiraling out of control and ending it all. You were proof to him that good still existed. You were proof that he still had a shot at a friendship.
He nudged you with hid finger against your bicep. "You've always been important," he told, "quit talking about yourself like you're nothing." He was more stern than usual. His eyes were actually locked with yours for once, too. It didn't last that long, though. Before they were darting around the room again, and he was taking a step back away from you.
You shuffled your feet a little, "do you have anything else from anyone else in the group?" You had to know. You know Rosita gave him a knife, and Abraham had given him something. He had to have things from other people in the group.
"No."
You furrowed your brows together. "What? Not even the knife Rosita gave you?" He shook his head, no. "I didn't have it for longer than a week before I lost it in a hoard. I didn't go back for it either." He shrugged, and you felt your lips tug up into a small smile. "Well, I should I feel special?" You asked, and he let out a soft chuckle. "You should, I want you to," he muttered, and he finally took that big step forward. Reaching out to cup your hand with his own hand.
You could feel the sweat on his palm, and hear the staggering in his breath, but he didn't back down. "Listen, you are one of the most admirable people I have met in my entire life. Strong, funny, smart, the whole package. A comfort item could never make you stupid or weak, I think it makes you more badass," he smiled, rubbing your jaw with his thumb. You just stared back at him, not flinching from his touch.
He kept hold of your hand, growing more confident now that you didn't pull away from him. He brought you a little closer to him. His eyes darting around your face as he thought of how to word his next sentence.
Carefully, that's how.
"I don't think I could ask to be in the apocalypse with a better person," he stammered, "I just wish I knew how to tell you that more, and maybe a little better," he chuckled. His breath hitching as you brought your other hand to his face. He was slowly crumbling in your hand.
You both went quiet. Just staring at each other. The cat toy now in your pocket and slightly forgotten about. It was just the both of you.
"You're the sweetest man I've ever met, you know that," you told him while he leaned into your touch. "You deserve it," he told you, smiling as you giggled.
You thought about kissing him. You wanted to. He wanted you to. Neither of you had ever gotten this close to one another before. Except for the few times he'd slept beside you to comfort you after a bad dream, or vice versa. This was different, though. The connection was different.
You both stepped back quick when you heard the door to the room you were in bust open. Carl standing in the doorway just a surprised as the both of you. "My dads looking for you," he said with almost a question. He looked at you, and then his eyes glanced over at Eugene. A look of question and uncertainty on what he had just walked in on.
"I'll be there in a sec, thank you, Carl," you said with certainty, and the boy was taking back off down the hall. Swinging the door shut behind him.
You both stood there in silence, again. This time the both of you were staring at the door. Waiting for another person to come bargaing through.
"You should probably get going, it might be important," he sighed, and you nodded. It normally was when Rick called for you, unfortunately.
"I'll see you tonight?" You asked, watching as his eyes snapped over to meet yours.
Right, he forgot he agreed to sit in the field with you tonight. Watch the stars and tell you about the different constellations that he knows about. "Of course, I'll meet you by the gardens after dark?" He reassured, and you nodded with a grin. "After dark." You confirmed with Eugene before running off after Carl.
We really needs to talk about how the popularization of fanfiction thanks to Tik Tok has brought into fandoms a kind of "fanfic police" that constantly shames people for reading other things than character x character fanfics. Because why is it suddenly cool to read fanfiction but the moment itβs an x reader or an x oc it automatically becomes cringe?! Let people read x reader or x oc in peace!
ellievsbear
yousharknotpass
annaxmalina
vaporwave
andulkaphoto
discoholicmusic
turnnoffyourmind
