#hal jordan x reader

[kitkatscabinet]

COLD, COLD, COLD

pairing | hal jordan x fem! reader x guy gardner

summary | when your ring fails you on a frozen planet, guy and hal have to warm you up

wc | 1.1k

cw | 18+ mdni. nudity, discussions of a threesome

a/n | i honestly wanted so much more out of this premise but it's been sitting in my drafts for like 4 months and i just wanted it finished </3

Hal and Guy are arguing. About what, you couldn’t say, but their raised voices carry over the howl of the wind, words indistinguishable to your sluggish mind as you put every ounce of focus into putting one foot in front of the other. 

Exhaustion clings to your weary bones like molasses; with your ring so low on charge, you’ve had to resort to slogging through he near shin-high snow as you trail after the two men. You should’ve just stayed with the wreckage of the ship, monitoring the outgoing distress signal, but the idea of splitting up hadn’t sat right with you. 

Your thigh muscles tremble with every step, straining to move your leaden feet. Ice clings to your lashes, impeding your vision until you’re forced to bring a hand to your face, fruitlessly attempting to wipe the stubborn remnants away to clear your sight. Blinking, you abruptly realise the dim green glow of the two men has gotten too far away. 

“Hal! Guy—” 

Several things happen at once, then. Your toes hit something hard, losing your balance, you stumble forward, muscles too tired to correct yourself as you land on your hands and knees in the snow, just as the last of your ring's power flickers and dies. 

The cold hits you like a freight train, an unforgiving shock to your system. A yelp rips from your throat, strangled as your nervous system lights up in displeased alarm. Attempting to push yourself up, your elbows buckle, and you only just manage to turn your head to the side as you collapse face-first into the wet snow. 

Suddenly, you’re lurching upward, a warm body slinging your arm over their shoulder, pulling you close as you ragdoll. Between one blink and the next, you’re encased in a solid green bubble, the harsh roar of the wind finally silenced until all you can hear is the rapid chattering of your teeth. 

Blearily, you realise it’s Guy holding you up, his chest vibrating as he yells something you can’t decipher at Hal. Another arm wraps around your waist, helping support you as you’re suddenly bracketed between the two. 

“Hal. M’sleepy.” You suddenly mumble, head lolling into Hal’s neck. 

“I know, baby, but you gotta stay awake.” Normally the term of endearment would leave you flustered, even if you pretended otherwise. 

You think they argue briefly over something, but you can’t focus enough to hear any of the details before you’re suddenly scooped up into someone’s arms, a green bubble surrounding you and blocking out the frigid winds. 

What happened next you couldn’t say, flickering in and out of consciousness until you woke an undetermined amount of time later, bleary and confused, body weighed down by thick blankets and your face buried in what you belatedly realise is a bare chest.

Leaning back, you quickly find yourself unable to move any further, a weight pinned to your back and a thick, muscular arm slung over your waist. 

“Wha?” Your voice cracks as you try furiously to blink the sleep from your eyes. 

“You back with us?” A warm, large palm cups your face and through the haze you realise that it’s Guy in front of you, brow furrowed in concern, which means the arm pulling you closer to his body must be Hal. Craning your neck back, wriggling a little to try and free yourself from his iron grip, you realise that Hal’s still asleep, his breath hitting the back of your neck. 

Even with the only light generated from the fire flickering next to you, you squint, head still pounding a little as you turn back to face Guy. “Quit staring at my tits.”

You can practically hear him pout, “But they’re so pretty.”

Smacking him lightly on the chest with your noodle-weak arm, you slide it around his back, “Come closer, m’cold.”

Guy slides closer before you even finish asking, sliding his bicep beneath your head to use as a pillow as the other curls around you and Hal, squeezing you to his chest. He clings to you, the tendons in his jaw flexing as he buries his nose against your temple, lips brushing your skin, “scared us half to death, doll. By the time we even found someone willing to help, I thought you were dead, passed out in Hal’s arms like that, barely breathing.”

“M’sorry.” You croak weakly, fingers curling against his back, “for scaring you.”

“Hmm, can think of a few ways you can make it up to me.” He nuzzles at you playfully, though his voice is still a little strained. 

You cling to the normalcy of his joke, false bravado and all, “We’re not fucking in a stranger's house, Guy.”

“So it’s the stranger’s house part that’s stopping you? Nothing else?” Your breath hitches, and you’re suddenly very glad that Guy can’t see your face or the want that you’re sure would be visible in your eyes. 

“Do you ever think about anything else, Gardner?” Hal’s voice is rough with sleep, sending a shiver down your spine, his arm flexing as he squeezed you to him, reassuring himself that you were awake, that you were alive. 

“Like you weren’t thinking it yourself, Jordan, having her pressed between us like this.”

“To save her life, asshole, don’t make it sound creepy.”

You snort, even as your sluggish mind has finally become aware of how they both feel pressed so closely against you, something straight out of a fantasy you’ve quietly had before. “I wouldn’t mind, under different circumstances.” 

You freeze, mortification flooding your veins as you realise what you’ve unintentionally let slip when both men still, Hal’s hand flexing against your ribcage as Guy inhales sharply. “Yeah? Feel free to elaborate anytime, sweetheart.”

“Guy!” Hal hisses in warning, and you become distinctly aware of the way he’s suddenly trying to angle his still boxers-clad hips away from you. 

It sends a bit of a thrill through you, knowing the physical effect you’re having on him. Shifting, you slide one barely cooperating leg up between Guy’s thighs, and sure enough, he’s hard too. 

“Fuck!” His hand flies to your thigh beneath the blanket, trying to halt your movement. “If you don’t wanna ‘fuck in the stranger’s house’, then stop moving.”

“Seriously, Guy?” 

“Oh, saint Jordan over her everybody.” Guy huffs, “like I didn’t see you squirming back there.”

It’s enough to make you giggle again, even as you feel yourself drifting back to sleep in their warm embrace, “hmm, take me out to dinner when we get home, then we can talk about fucking.”

Predictably. The second you’re cleared by medical, you don’t even make it to dinner. But as you find yourself sandwiched between them once more, you can hardly find it in yourself to complain.

[beachwreck]

hal jordan works you up to finger you,,,, there's always some preamble to the act.

starts things innocently, or not quite, but builds them up into making out or groping you. then sometimes he's slow, sometimes he's fast, no matter what though, he'll always deliberately spread your legs open for him— whether you're seated on his lap, or laying beneath him —and he'll always coo at how excited you get.

he presses the pad of his thumb against the sticky wet patch on your panties and slowly works a circle along the spot just to make you squirm. he'll work you up even more, only sliding down your panties when you're warm with your own arousal and your cunt is slick. it's only then that he'll actually touch your clit and work his fingers into you.

hal slides in one finger, then two and eventually you have nearly his entire hand rocking into you. he works steadily to feel your pussy squeeze him when you cum

[beachwreck]

mfmfmffffff hal jordan's large hands.

dextrous fingers that can navigate the buttons and commands on his jet easily. tapping and pressing without hesitation. they're strong and firm. some areas on his hands are rough and callused.

they always find a way to settle on you. tucked into the backpocket of your jeans to cup your ass. along your waist. along your lower back, threatening to slip up your shirt or down your pants. on your stomach, shimmying down to play with the band of your underwear before snapping the garter against your skin.

his hands are mischevious, they pull you into his lap and masterfully open your legs and tug down your panties before spreading you open. the pads of his fingers dance along your slit before working themselves in. he rocks them back and forth while his free hand rubs your clit.

hal doesn't stop until you've made his hand shiny and wet. he works on diligently as you shake and try to close your legs because you'll make a mess. and he doesn't care, he wants to see you crying while your cunt sucks in all three of his fingers. he wants to see you squirt.

[iridescentlightshow]

Just a Matter of Time

Pairing: dad!hal jordan x daughter!reader

In Which: hal knows you’ve gone through a lot on your own, and it’s his fault you had to.

Info: this fic but from hal’s perspective. a lot of self-deprecation and parental guilt. 784 words.

Hal Jordan is not a stupid man.

He can see that something is bothering you. And he’s pretty sure that thing is him.

It’s only natural, really. It’s not a normal thing, to have a father come back from the dead. Even less so when they come back looking younger.

So he’d decided to give you your space.

But then he’d heard you, that day in the store.

The shrill cadence of your voice was a sound he’d only heard once before: when you were little and decided to climb up your uncle’s bookshelf, only for it to start tipping. It wasn’t you nearly getting hurt that had scared him the most; it was how quiet you’d been after, the way your eyes seemed to analyze everything before going near it.

It’s the same way you’re looking at him now, your eyes on his face, looking for something that is— or perhaps something that isn’t— there.

Hal doesn’t know what to say, and even if he did, Oliver’s dining table doesn’t seem like the best location for the conversation. So he sends you a warm smile instead.

When you smile back, he sees how it doesn’t reach your eyes. What he does see, though, is a flicker of hurt in your eyes as you glance around the table, your eyes settling on Lian for a beat longer than the rest of them before dropping down to your plate.

It’s not until the two of you get back home that he figures out just why that was, the realization hitting him like a brick.

Way to go, Hallie. He drags his hand down his face, cursing under his breath. Even when you try to fix things you screw it up. 

His gaze shifts to your closed bedroom door, where you’d retreated earlier. That had been a few hours ago.

He stands, finding himself knocking on your door before he even has an idea of what he’s going to say. Maybe he’ll just listen— that is, if you’re willing to talk.

When you don’t answer after he knocks a second time, he opens the door just enough to spot you, curled up in a ball in your bed, the blankets covering your face just enough that he can’t fully tell if you’re asleep.

His ring chimes before he can quietly inquire about your state, a communique summoning him to some far off planet. 

Just as well. You need your rest.

Hal’s just about to depart for the journey home when something on the planet’s surface catches his eye, small and glittering.

He scans it with his ring, looking at it for a moment longer before slipping it into his pocket and heading for home.

It’s early when he gets back. It’s so early, in fact, that he’s practically shocked to find you awake and milling about in the kitchen. You hadn’t been a morning person before.

Then again, you’d been a lot shorter before, too.

“You’re up early, kiddo.”

Hal flinches when you jump, the bowl of cereal in your hands crashing to the floor.

He hadn’t meant to scare you.

He joins you on the floor, picking up the broken pieces of the bowl as you fight to mop up the milk before it spreads. “Here, let me help—”

“I can take care of it myself!”

The acerbic delivery of your words is nothing short of a knife in the gut.

You had dealt with a lot on your own when he was gone. Life hadn’t exactly been fair to either of you when dealing out the cards. He hadn’t been able to help you then, so why would you want him to help you now?

“…alright.”

He disposes of the ceramic fragments, his hand finding its way to his pocket, feeling over the rough surface of the extraterrestrial stone he’d stowed away earlier.

“Brought you something,” he says, pulling the stone out of his pocket once you’ve got most of the mess cleaned up. “Found it on Driumia.”

He watches as you stare at it for several moments before you tackle him in a hug, nearly knocking him off balance. It’s not till he regains his footing that he notices the slight shake in your shoulders and the tears streaming down your cheeks and dampening his shirt.

“Hey,”  he says softly, running his hand over your hair. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay, hm?”

His words don’t seem to calm you, so he holds you a little tighter, a little longer.

Because he knows it’s only a matter of time ‘til he screws up again. That’s what he does best, after all.

And it’s only a matter of time ‘til you’ll hate him for it.

divider by me | planet name from fantasy name generator #thankyouemily

do not copy, alter, repost, or translate my works. do not enter any of my works into AI. © @iridescentlightshow

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Love to lay!

Hal Jordan x fem!Reader

summary: Hal loves watching himself pound into you through the mirror!

warning: MDNI 18+, smut, mirror sex, alcohol consumption, breeding

A/N: special thanks to @fluervie for proofreading this <33

Hal Jordan is the definition of 'The American dream'.

He is charming without trying, fearless to the point of stupidity, and somehow always manages to look ridiculously sexy. And the way his body is built like a Greek god is enough to send tears running down your thighs. 

The two of you are alone now, the night quiet around you. Hal leans against the counter with that familiar crooked smile, watching you over the rim of his glass. He is slightly intoxicated, not enough to lose himself, just enough for the edges of his usual restraint to blur, and when you step closer, he does not move away.

You barely have time to say anything before his hand settles at your waist, drawing you into him with an ease that makes your heart stumble. There is a brief moment where you simply look at each other, close enough to feel his breath, and Hal’s expression shifts into something quieter and more deliberate. 

His eyes flick down to your lips before returning to yours, silently asking a question he already seems to know the answer to. You close the distance first, and he meets you halfway, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, lingering kiss that tastes faintly of tequila. 

His fingers tighten gently against your waist as you kiss him again, and he lets out a soft moan once he feels your hands play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He can’t help himself any further, and lets his hand wander down your back until they stop right on top of your ass. He squeezes the flesh before pulling you into him to the point not even a thin shit of paper could pass through.

Hal starts kissing you with a lot more desperation all while he is grinding you against his now hard cock which is still covered by his jeans. He can't help but let out soft moans at the feeling of your clothed pussy rubbing against him. 

Without a second to spare, he throws you over his shoulder while still gripping the bottle of tequila in his other hand before moving you to the bedroom. Laying you down gently, he has your back facing the mirror which is directly in front of the bed. He removes your top and pants with careful hands, leaving you only with your soaked panties. 

Hal lowers his head down until he is just above your still clothed pussy. His teeth grip the edge of your panties, and he holds your hips up which makes it easier for him to pull them off of you with his mouth. 'His lips twist into a sinful smirk as the fabric of your panties rest between his teeth, coating another layer of wetness between your legs. Once they’re off, he tosses them somewhere in the bedroom. 

He kisses his way up your body until he can crash his lips onto yours again. You press your naked body against his still clothed one, and you feel the cold metal of his belt press against your lower belly. Your fingers tangle in his now messy hair, and you pull him by his hair slightly. 

“You’re so beautiful.” he whispers softly against your lips. 

His hands immediately work on removing his own clothes. Watching how his muscles move as he removes them was truly a sight you could watch all day without getting tired. 

His body truly looked like it had been sculpted in stone by the same arms that carved Greek gods. And as mentioned before, he looks like a Greek god. His legs are thick with muscles. His arms, oh god his arms, they’re thick with bulging biceps, big enough to cover your whole head. 

God, how can someone expect you to stay normal when your boyfriend literally looks like the man you used to dream about.

Rough and veiny hands spread your legs as you sink your teeth into the plush of your lower lip.

“I hate how I can’t keep my hands off of you.” he admits, voice low.

Yeah… the feelings are mutual. Because you physically cannot keep your hands off of his pectoral muscles too. Tracing your fingers against the hard edges of his muscles, and feeling how he flexes them under your fingertips. 

“Hal…” you try to say, but your voice is barely above a whisper. Desperation floods through your veins as you lock your eyes with his cock still covered in briefs instead of being inside you.

“Shh.. It’s okay sweetheart. I’ll take good care of you.” 

And he will definitely take good care of you. That’s for sure. 

But before he does it, he takes the tequila bottle in his hand, and pours a little bit down your throat. Almost immediately, he starts licking up the liquor running down your neck to your breasts, and sucks the sensitive spot on it. He’s not entirely sure if it’s the alcohol that makes him feel so dizzy, or if it’s just the taste of your sweet skin carrying your scent. Either way, the feeling makes you moan out his name. 

“Focus on me, yeah?”

You only nod in response. Hal lets his forehead rest on top of yours as he slowly pushes his hard cock inside your pussy, slowly stretching you out around him. Your hands immediately find his back, carving lines onto his skin. 

“Open your mouth baby.” 

And you do. He holds your head up a bit as he pours tequila in your mouth. 

“Swallow it, come on baby. Or else I won’t move.” 

You swallow the liquor immediately. The spice floods down your throat, and the sharp kick still stays on your tongue. The taste is sweet before it quickly turns smoky and bold. 

“That’s my good girl.” 

Hal reconnects his lips onto yours, and he tastes the tequila from your lips. While he kisses you with so much desperation, he finally starts moving inside you, pushing his cock in and out of your hole. 

“Fuuuuck,” you whimper as he picks up the speed and pressure. 

He straightens his spine, and his eyes meet the sight of your bodies through the reflection. His hands are on your hips, and he gently lifts them up as he sends deep thrusts into you. Through the reflection, he sees how good he looks fucking you. He can’t help but pay attention to his abdominal muscles and how they move with each thrust he sends into you. The way his veins on his V-line are visible. His broad shoulders, and the way his neck is almost thick enough to fill out the base of his skull. 

He smirks to himself as he sees through the reflection the faces you make. Oh, he has that effect on you? It’s not like it’s the first time he sees you rolling your eyes to the back of your skull, or the way you bite your lower lip. But it’s definitely his first time seeing how good he actually looks when he is fucking his sweet and beautiful girlfriend. 

“Look at us, baby. Look at how good we look.” 

He puts your hips down, and he takes your face into his hands. His other arm rests next to your head. He turns your face back until you catch the reflection. And even though you see it upside down, you can’t help but let a moan escape your throat at the sight.

Your eyes catch his in the reflection, and you can slightly see how fast his hips are moving into you. You see the way your whole body moves alongside the bed. A sharp intake of breath catches you off guard, and you see how his eyes almost rolles back as he feels you clench around him. 

“You like that? Seeing how good I make you?” he lets out a whimper. “Focus your eyes back on me.” 

His hands turn your face back down, and you keep your eyes fixated on him while his eyes are still focused on the mirror. He can’t stop looking at how your bodies move through the mirror, and most importantly, he can’t stop looking at how his body moves inside you. But can you blame him? 

“Oh fuck! Right there, oh fuck!” your sudden scream pulls him out of his thoughts. 

“Yeah? Riiight here?” 

This cocky bastard asks you as he pounds deep thrusts into you. The feeling makes you ache your back off the mattress, and you feel your heart beating way too fast in your chest. 

The echoes of skin making contact with skin fills the bedroom along with the filthy sounds leaving your mouth, and the bedframe hitting the wall constantly. You’re a hundred percent sure that you will receive noise complaints in the morning, but neither you nor Hal care about it right now.

Your mouth hangs open while your eyes are closed. All you can focus on is how good his cock feels. And Hal feels the same. All he can focus on is how good your pussy feels swallowing his whole length. 

You feel a coil start to build up in your lower belly which makes you clench around him again. And Hal knows you’re about to cum. How could he not? He knows everything about you, including the signs that indicate when your orgasm starts building up. 

“Make a mess all over me. I know you can.” 

You cum hard enough to push his cock out of you slightly. Hal doesn’t stop here though. He keeps fucking you even though his cock is covered with your warm release. 

After a few more thrusts, he finally lets himself cum inside you heavily. He fills you up with his release, and he lets his forehead rest on top of yours as he still spills himself inside you. 

“I love you,” he whispers, giving you a quick kiss. 

But before he pulls out, he looks at himself through the mirror again. He sees the way his body is flushed, and the slight redness on his ridiculously handsome face. He sees the way his hair is messy because of your hands. 

He flexes his biceps, and lets out a laugh as he sees how big they actually are. No wonder you sometimes take a bite from his arms when they’re this big and beefy. 

“Arrogant asshole.” you let out a laugh. 

But that only backfires to you. Because he sends another slow grind which causes you to open your mouth slightly. 

“Yeah? Is that so?” 

“No, fuck.” 

Pleased with himself, he slowly pulls out from you, and carries you to the bathroom so he can clean you up properly. 

Yeah, he definitely understands now why you’re always wild with him in bed. 

[iridescentlightshow]

How People Can Change

Pairing: dad!hal jordan x daughter!reader

Prompt: overthinking | event masterlist

In Which: you start to think your dad came back wrong. but then again, maybe you’re the one who’s different.

Info: post-resurrection hal. reader is lowkey spiralling. mention of (hal’s) accidental injury via knife. roy, ollie, and lian are in here too but they have no dialogue. more introspective than anything. tiny bit of self-deprecation at the end. 787 words.

a/n: wrote most of this at 3am so i apologize if it doesn’t make sense in spots

It’s funny, really.

The way sitting three feet apart with a table in between feels like a larger distance than that between the sun and the earth.

Your eyes flicker from your half-finished plate to the faces across the expanse of stained wood, their expressions joyful as they chatter away about some topic you are not privy too. League business, probably, if the look of partial understanding on Oliver’s face at Roy and your father’s words is anything to go by.

You study their faces; first Roy’s, then your father’s. 

The freckles that’d adorned Roy’s face when you were younger had faded, replaced by a few barely formed wrinkles you assumed he’d gained throughout overcoming his struggles and the joy and stress that came with raising his daughter. (The same daughter who, at present, is trying to hide her peas under a small pile of mashed potatoes.)

Where Roy had wrinkles, your father had none. 

On the contrary, Hal looks young. Far too young. He looks the way he had when you were still a small child; running around without a care in the world, unaware of the horrors to come.

You hadn’t noticed how different he looks at first. You’d been so happy he was alive again; a real, living person and not some form of ghost you still didn’t fully understand. It wasn’t till you were out shopping that you realized just how much he’d changed. It had happened when an elderly woman asked you if Hal was your brother—the two of you had assisted her with reaching some higher up items, after which he’d wandered further down the aisle making you the only one aware of the assumption. 

You had laughed—the sound awkward, almost manic, too high-pitched to be considered normal—and corrected her. “No!” you’d said. “That’s my dad.” 

You’d started looking at him a lot closer after that. Noticing little things that were missing, like the scar on his hand from when he’d helped you build a mock gingerbread house out of cardboard and the knife jumped, nicking the side of his palm. 

It wasn’t just his features that had changed. His words had, too.

He didn’t call you bug anymore.

At first you thought it was because of the whole ‘possessed by an insectoid entity’ thing. (You’d made Kyle explain it all to you several times so you could finally have a semi-understanding of just what it was.) But then you’d heard him talking to Lian; the way the nickname had rolled so easily off his tongue like he’d been waiting to say it again, wanting to say it—just not to you.

There’s a little voice inside your head that tells you to move on, that it’s just a dumb nickname. It argues with another one, saying that your father’s still unsure how to interact with you after so long apart. A third voice, louder than the second, twists it’s words, leaving you wondering if he even wanted to be near you at all, or was just doing so out of some sense of obligation to your younger self.

It was so long ago, after all. And you’d changed, too—though you didn’t feel they were as drastic a change as whatever turned your father into… well, this semi-recognizable version of himself.

You really should let the nickname thing go.

But you still remember when he’d first called you that; how he laughed when you crinkled your nose at the thought of being a bug, and with exceptional patience explained to you about lanterns and lightning bugs and bioluminescence. You’d asked him a question as a joke: “Am I a lightnin’ bug ‘cause I light up your life?”

He’d chuckled, pressed a kiss to the top of your head and tucked you into bed. “You sure make it more interesting,” he’d said. And, as he did every night, regaled you with stories of his space adventures as you drifted off to sleep dreaming of the stars.

You inhale sharply, blinking away the hot tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks. Those memories feel so far away now.

You poke at your food, more for something to do than anything. When you do take a bite you barely take note of the taste, just swallow it down with the lump in your throat.

Once your father finally spots you looking at him, he smiles. But it doesn’t reassure you the way it used to. 

You offer a small smile back anyway.

Glancing around the room, seeing everyone converse and laugh with each other while you feel so out of place twists the proverbial knife in your gut.

Maybe it wasn’t your father that changed.

Maybe you were the problem.

divider by @/omi-resources

do not copy, alter, repost, or translate my works. do not enter any of my works into AI. © @iridescentlightshow

[pinkcanaryy]

"Shut up, Stewart, you're just jealous," Hal smirked, brushing a speck of dust off his chest and glowing with the supreme confidence of a man who had just hit the jackpot. "The lady knows quality when she sees it. That is a woman who appreciates a real man."

Guy walked up beside Hal, squinting at Hal’s neck. A smirk spread across Guy's face.

"Hey, Hal," Guy started, voice trembling with holding back a burst of absolute hysteria. "What's that number she wrote on your neck?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, Gardner," Hal sneered, whipping out his phone to type the digits in before he accidentally wiped the lipstick off. He angled his phone camera up to look at his own throat in the reflection.

Written across his neck in mauve lipstick were three neat digits 9 - 1 - 1

Silence hung in the air for approximately one second. Guy was howling with laughter so hard he couldn't breathe, clutching his stomach as he fell to his knees.

"NINE-ONE-ONE!" Guy shrieked, pounding his fist against the ground, tears springing to his eyes. "SHE PLAYED YOU LIKE A FIDDLE!”

[my-love-all-mine]

Hal Jordan masterlist

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