Pairing: John Harrison x Reader (female)
Slight smut. I wrote this about 3 weeks ago and never posted it. (I thought i was going to add onto it. I might later on) so here is my third attempt at a chatacterxreader story. hope you enjoy!
You're frigid.
It's a feel you're not used to. Your brain feels grainy, similar to the feeling of standing up on a foot that's fallen asleep. The feeling fades and you're left wondering why a cold sweat refuses to fade from your skin.
Your eyes are still closed, almost as if you're afraid to open them. But wait… you've never caved into your basic needs like this before.
Except around him.
He's the definition of indifference. Anger spills into your heart when you remember he used you not that long ago. Manipulated these basic feelings to destroy everything you worked for.
Maybe that's why i'm sweating. You chuckle to yourself, The thought of him makes my blood boil.
You crack your shoulders an stretch your arms above your head. Your fingers interlock so you can crack your back. Your eyes snap open when you realize your state of dress or well… lack of. A blush tints your cheeks as your right arm quickly moves to cover your breasts while your left fades downward.
"Finally." your new found confusion sharply fades into fury. Your back stiffens at the sound of his smug voice. "You always had a hard time waking up from a long nap."
You know there is no intimacy, no nostalgia in what he's just said. He's just dictating facts that have pooled in his brain. There's no need to open your can feel his snarky smirk radiate off him.
"I haven't been asleep for that long." You snap as you stand with your back to him. A soft pang echos as he walks towards you. it occurs to you then that you haven't questioned your surroundings. A ship, you know from the crisp metal beneath your toes. But what ship? You fell asleep in your tight, stuffy room in the arms of…shit.
A warmth invades your thoughts and snaps you back to the present. His sweltering hand pull the arm away from your chest before you can register the movement.
"You were always self conscious." He whispers this in your ear and his hot breath tingles over the outer shell. "You're perfect even with these scars."
This is it. His manipulation. He can read you like an open book and has never been wrong. You admit, begrudgingly, that it's always been like this. You've known each other for most if not all of your life. You trained together as children and fought along side one another as partners. It seemed natural to you to make it something more. To act upon that one feeling deep down you refused to acknowledge before.
You love him. Not matter what he does to you, you still love him.
Your knees knock briefly as his teeth nibble your ear lobe. You don't want to give in and you repeat it in you head over and over in a foul tasting mantra.
You almost make it. That is until his left hand slowly, with perfect mock hesitation, runs down your thigh and then back up. Over and over he does this. It eats away at your resolve until his hand grasps your wrist and pulls it away from your body. The last attempt to shield yourself from him.
A light grunt escapes his lips as he pulls you backwards into his chest. That's it, you know in that moment you're done for.
