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ohcaptains · 1 year

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𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐲.

pairing. simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader.

synopsis. simon comes home. he's too tired to fuck you right. eventually, he manages to find the energy.

warnings. 18+ this is sexually explicit, do not read this or interact with my blog if you’re a minor. do not copy or use ai on my shit, i’ll find out. female receiving penetration, blonde simon lol, somnophilia, dry humping, pussy smacking, and crying during sex. i am not responsible for your media consumption.

an. :) life sucked so i found a new animated character to obsess over. please comment & reblog if u enjoyed !

When Simon comes back, he’s dog-tired.

As soon as his feet touch the welcome mat of your quaint little apartment, he feels all of his muscles relax – as if they’re unpinning themselves from his bones – and he has to give himself a pep talk to muster the energy to drag his hand up to ring the bell.

But he doesn’t have to, because you’re ripping the door open – shining like the sun – and pulling him into your body, rendering all 6,4 ft and 240 pounds of the super soldier to complete mush.

For five minutes, you don’t speak. Just hold him, as you gently rub the corner of his jaw, and brush your fingers through his dirty blonde hair. He clutches you to him.

His fat, paw-like hands hold your upper back, and you hold him with the same vigour. His body – wrapped in his black compression shirt and army pants – is rock solid.

It’s a weaving of muscles that have been tensed for the last two months. It’s going to take a minute for them all to soften, but like he always does when he’s been away, Simon lets out a deep and resolute sigh.

The breath warms your neck, causing it to tingle, and you grasp him tighter, your body waking up.

It’s been a long two months.

He manages to push your intertwined bodies through the doorway, using his boot to kick the door shut. His house smells like home -- funny how you can’t smell it until you’ve been gone a while.

Vanilla and a citrus fruit, mixed with the savoury scent of his favourite meal. He hums again, and you scratch the back of his head, sending shivers down his locked spine.

He knows the route to your bedroom like the back of his hand, and he maneuvers the pair of you inside.

The curtains are closed and the bed is made. You know him. You know him so well.

You let him push you back onto the bed – a blur of familiar limbs and hair – and he settles lower, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Immediately, you drag your legs up and cross them over the curve of his ass.

You’re all warm and soft and pliable. Dressed in a pair of simple cotton shorts and a vest top, he wants to grab fistfuls of you and remind himself of how you feel in his palms. Wants to drag his lips over your skin, bully his way between your legs and remind himself of how you taste.

Fuck, he wants you, in a carnal, almost primal sort of way, and you the same. He can smell it. A sweet but sweaty longing that melts from you and causes his senses to wake.

But he’s so God damn tired.

You know. Know this routine. Know that he has to settle back in.

In the meantime, you’ll just have to wait.

You fiddle with his hair. “There’s dinner if you want it,” you whisper into the dark bedroom, looping the strands between your fingers, committing the soft feel to memory.

Simon shuffles just an inch on top of you, but still, the slight movement of his clothes and hard, clenched body against yours makes you take your bottom lip between your teeth.

It’ll be chewed raw by the time he has enough energy to take you. He grunts something into your skin, and after a second, you gather it’s, tired.

His scent clouds you.

When Simon comes back, he always smells the same.

The soap at the barracks is pine scented – shampoo a strict lemon.

But there’s always a leftover grit to him. A hidden layer the soap can’t clean off, and it makes you delirious. Makes you flex your ass up – just an inch, a sweet, gentle inch that has you feeling the hard lines of his thighs and the metal of his zipper, and Simon’s breathing hitches.

You freeze. With your hips pushed tight against his, you stare at the ceiling, hoping that your worn-out soldier hasn’t felt you move.

Simon stays quiet. His breathing settles. You go to apologise, but Simon doesn’t grumble or make a sly comment. Listening closer to his breathing, you gather that he’s asleep.

Jesus, you think, that’s a record. Barely in the door and he’s asleep, he must be burnt out. Figuring that you won’t be able to crawl from under his weight, you decide it’s your bedtime too.

Sleep comes fast.

Hours later, you blearily blink awake. Not much has changed – the room is still dark, Simon is still heavy on top of you, yet now, you’re sticking to him with sweat.

He’s usually a human furnace, but this is different.

Your skin prickles, vibrating at a frequency that has nothing to do with heat. No, this is…you feel a pulsating between your thighs, and wiggle, feeling your slick coating your underwear.

Fuck, why are you so wet? You clench, and the resulting ache forces you to hiss and push your head back against the pillows. What did you dream about? Thinking back, you come up short. Then why--

Simon shuffles on top of you. It’s a slight movement, but it continues, and all at once, your heart clenches.

Holy fuck, he’s—

“Simon?” you whisper, and your boyfriend whines into your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes, the words wet and desperate. The puzzle pieces lock into place.

He knocks his hips into your crotch once more, and you gasp, clenching, eyes rolling back in pleasure. Simon’s apology comes out again, except this time, it’s christened with a “s-shit – fuck.”

Blinking at the ceiling, you huff and try and glance down, and in the dark, you just about manage to see the outline of his burly body grinding into yours.

You take stock of the situation.

Feel his fat palm around your hip, and squinting, see that he’s got your shorts pulled down around your thighs, and has the band of your underwear looped around his fingers.

Jesus Christ. You fall back into the pillows. “How long have you?” you whisper. “Five – fuck – minutes,” Simon grunts, continuing to roll his thick hips against you. His bulge knocks the edge of your throbbing clit, causing you to gasp again. There’s been no build-up to your want, it’s just there, humming electric, and spread tight over your thighs.

Simon meshes his wet mouth against your chest. He’s tugged your vest top down, too, and his lips close around the skin of your breast. Jesus. He was undressing you as you slept.

“Thought about fuckin’ you, but couldn’t get my pants down, so – shit -- tired. Jus’ woke up and you were just so fuckin’ soft. And wet, Christ, felt you through my trousers.”

Your whole body goes numb. “You were gonna fuck me as I slept?” you whisper, belly flipping. You’d told him – ages ago – that he could, but he hasn’t been here. You’d forgotten.

The image of him pulling your underwear down as you slept streaks across your mind. Imagine waking up with him inside of you, so full and wet and just on the precipice of coming.

Simon grunts. He tugs at the band of your underwear, “I’ll fuck you right, at some point. Just –”

In your delirious state, you manage to finish his sentence, “Tired, I know – I know baby.”

You kiss the crown of his head and whimper into his hair. “Just use me until you’re ready.”

Simon groans out deep and loud. It rumbles against your chest. Echoes through your heart, and you’re so turned on that you begin fidgeting.

You try and squirm away from the stifling ache of your pussy, but Simon’s built like a brick shithouse, so you can’t run from it, just gotta take it and take it and take it, until you can’t anymore, and you break.

You’re so fucked that you don’t even announce that you’re coming, but Simon knows, shit, and as your pussy clenches up tight, he growls low and hard, mumbling, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it, until his movements go sloppy, and his breathing goes laboured, and he’s coming into his pants and mewling your name.

When he finally does manage to get inside of you, he doesn’t last long. No, he pushes all the way to the hilt, and you tighten up.

“Stay” you gasp, clenching your pussy around his shaft, and Simon grunts deep and long into your throat.

“S-Stay there,” you moan, then, in case he didn’t hear you, “Stay,” you whisper, and push the ball of your palm into his thick, scarred shoulder.

You were teetering on a knives edge.

You’ve come once since Simon was home, and your second orgasm of his return was right there.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Simon groans into the shallow of your throat, “Did we do enough prep?”

“Yes,” you immediately whisper, not wanting him to pull out.

He’s thick and pulsing inside of you, hard and heavy on top, and God, he kisses at your throat — soft and gentle. You try to swallow down the ball that has swelled in your throat, but tears prick at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill.

No no no no, you think. Not now. Not now not now. You try to stifle the tears, but you unconsciously sniff, and despite Simon being perfectly still, he still manages to freeze.

“Sweetheart?”

You inhale, “Yeah?”

Simon looks up; and seeing tears on your cheeks, his face falls, “Did I hurt you?”

You furiously wipe the tears away, shaking your head.

“M’just overwhelmed,” you whisper, and he presses his forehead against yours, going to kiss you, but the movement causes his hips to flex against you, nudging his cock, and you whine, immediately gripping onto the back of his dirty blonde locks.

Simon drops his face into your chest and lets out a pained rasp, “Tightening around me, kid.”

You unclench, “m’sorry.”

“Gonna come quick.”

“S’okay.”

“I’ll fuck you right, just gotta…” he trails off and grabs fist fulls of your hips.

“Fuck,” he huffs wistfully, “This pussy. Missed this fucking pussy.”

You go dizzy with need. Shake your head, and bend to kiss him, tasting his wet and swollen lips. Gently, you knock your hips up into his, and when he lets out a surprised grumble, you flex your hips higher, trying to stuff his cock deeper, further – till you can see it pressing into your belly.

Catching onto your plan, Simon grunts and pushes your hips with his fat palms, pinning your ass to the mattress.

“Stop,” he orders, and the demand goes straight to your cunt. Jesus. He hasn’t been very dominant since his return, and that little instruction has you chomping on the bit.

“Want you, Si.”

“One stroke and I’ll be fucked.”

“Just gotta practice.”

He chokes on a laugh, muttering, “Practice.”

You try another tactic. Clench around his cock and pout, “Want you to come inside me.”

“Fuck,” Simon cuts. You curl your legs back his back and push your foot into the dense muscle of his ass, at the same time rocking your hips up. Simon lets you. Let’s you try and fuck yourself on his cock. With wet lips, you push your mouth into the shell of his ear, shakily uttering his name.

“Gonna fill me up, Si?”

“Fuckin’ filthy, you know that?”

Simon pulls back, and your heart stutters.

You think he’s going to pull out, until he uses your hips to pull you tight against his cock -- your ass nearly sitting on his thighs. His thick, scarred chest is puffed up.

Cheeks red, and he’s got that animal glint in his pretty eyes.

It knocks you for six.

“Where you want it?” he asks, and you’re confused, until he presses the heel of his palm into the middle of your tummy.

“Shoot my load here, huh?”

Your body goes numb. Eyes white out. It happens so suddenly that it scares you, and you’re a mixture of turned on and frightened, but the fear turns you on even more.

All you can do is blearily look up at him as he slides his paw to the other side of your tummy, “or shoot it here. Fuck it so deep that you can taste it.”

He pretends to think about it. Even hums, before he drags his palm up and stuffs his thumb into your mouth. “Or just directly here, huh?” He snarls a smile, “know you like it when your mouth is full.”

You suck at his thumb, and tighten your cunt around his cock, causing his mouth to open, and eyes to flutter, and just like that, you’ve won.

He comes in record time.

But Simon keeps his promises.

A couple of days later – on the seventh day he’s back -- he fucks you so good, that when you wake up the next morning, you get shy just thinking about it.

Lay in bed, staring at the ceiling – your boyfriend fast asleep on your chest -- remembering the debauchery you’d gotten up to the night before.

The pair of you are a little tipsy, drunk on beer and wine, but all it’s done is heighten your senses, and made you fully aware of your desires, so much so, that they pulsate behind your eyelids like a migraine.

Simons got you face down, ass up, and as he pushes you face first into the mattress, he presses his thumb against the tight, fluttering hole of your pussy.

“Gonna let me inside, baby?”

You sink into your thighs and spread yourself wider for him, humming into your crossed arms. Simon watches your pussy spread further, and he can’t help himself, he has to slide his thumb deeper.

He presses, just barely pushing the tip of his thumb into your wet hole, and you gasp, trying to chase the feeling by inching back against his fat palm. He laughs at you. “Look at your pussy sucking my thumb in, baby. Wish you could see what I’m seeing. So fuckin’ sexy.”

You hum, the words making you wetter – dripping over his thumb.

“Been dreaming of fucking you right, gonna take you whenever I want.”

“Okay,” you whisper, so delirious that you’re not sure what you’re agreeing to. Simon raises a brow,

“Yeah?” he asks, tone breathless. Thought he’d get some pushback on that one, but for a second, he forgot that you said the nastiest shit with his dick inside of you.

You nod into your crossed arms, and Simon laughs again, “Free use pussy,” he sounds, then lightly smacks your sodden folds, causing you to flinch, bucking forward.

“Oh fuck,” you choke, eyes rolling back. Heat ricochets through your crotch and swamps your belly, before settling back in your aching pussy. Once you manage to collect yourself – and it takes a second -- you huff. “Bein’ mean.”

Simon snorts, grabs your hips, then rams the underside of his cock against your pussy, grinning so big that his scars stretch, “don’t know the half of it, babe.”

You sob, real tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Your desire is visceral, enough for you to taste it on your tongue. Simon pulls back, and your slick coats the length of his dick, earning yourself another light smack to your cunt.

“Soakin’ me,” he grunts, and you sob into the sheets. “Please,” you whisper, then, please please please, and Simon hears your breathing hitch.

This time, instead of checking up on you, he chuckles, “Crying again, baby?”

You sniff and wipe your eyes on your wrist, face heating.

“No,” you mumble, and Simon sighs.

He reads you like a book. Always has. Always will.

“Lying to me,” he grumbles, then he steers the uncut head of his cock between your folds, whispering, “Lie to me again, and I’ll give you something to cry about,” before bottoming out in one thrust.

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hairmetal666 · 23 days

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"I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he declares to all and sundry (Steve and Robin) in Family Video.

Steve laughs, ducks his head, hair a bountiful cascade that doesn't move an inch. He's blushing but it's not, like, a reaction to the sentiment of marriage. Steve knows Eddie is just like that, flirtatious and over-the-top and incapable of not speaking his thoughts as soon as they enter his head.

Robin roles her eyes, goes back to flipping through her magazine, something about cinema, and Eddie swipes his just rented movies off the counter.

"You think I'm joking," he twists so he's facing them, walking backwards to the door. "But I swear it, oh, beloved purveyor of movies and deleter of late fees."

"Yeah, yeah." Steve's face is pinker than before and Eddie recognizes and immediately forces himself to forget how cute it is. "But get out of here before I change my mind."

And Eddie, he loves to push his luck and also has very little filter between his brain and his mouth, so he says, "aw, don't be that way, Stevie, you love me."

Robin looks up, then, mouth a pursed twist as she tries not to laugh. "Gross, Eddie." She throws a Sour Patch at him. "Keep all that mushy stuff to when you two are alone."

It's his turn to blush, fierce and raging, and Steve whirls, squeaking, to whack Robin with a Twizzler.

Eddie points at her. "Rude, Buckley. You know I love you too."

"Again, gross." She sticks out her tongue, tinged blue from the Sour Patch.

"We really need to work on your ability to accept affection," Steve tells her.

She scowls, kicks him, makes Eddie laugh.

"I think that's my cue to leave, children." He says. He, quite literally, bows out of the store, just missing the barrage of candy thrown his way.

---

Three Months Later

Eddie stumbles into the Harrington house, kicking his boots off by the door. Steve's in the kitchen, fussing around the stove. His hair's askew and he's--

"Harrington, are you wearing an apron?" He ignores the kick in his chest at the sight. "You'll make a sweet little housewife one day."

"Shut-up," Steve says without any heat. "Try this."

He brandishes a spoon filled with red sauce in Eddie's direction, and Eddie--heart always on his sleeve--eagerly leans in to taste. He closes his eyes, savors, and it's good, truly. Perfect fresh acidity with just a burst of sweetness.

"It's amazing, baby," he says without thinking. He opens his eyes right in time to see Steve turning back to the sauce, blush high on his cheekbones.

"Thanks. You're making me nervous though, hovering." Steve hip checks him. "Go sit somewhere."

And Eddie does, jumps onto the island--the Harrington's are the kind of people who have an island--and chatters to Steve about his day, about his new campaign, about the new song he's trying to learn.

All the while, he's watching Steve cook, in his apron, with such care and thoughtfulness, with true command. Maybe it's the domesticity of the scene, maybe his raging crush, but he has this flash of the two of them in the future. In their kitchen, Steve cooking dinner, and Eddie's arms are wrapped around his waist, he's pressing kisses to his temple, complimenting all his hard work and--

Steve feeds him a bite of the finished pasta, and it's so good that he groans, full-throated, unembarrassed, and says--he says, "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington."

He laughs, face pink, batting Eddie's shoulder. "Go sit down, man. It's time to eat."

---

Two Months After That

Eddie's working on a new campaign when the storm rolls in, wind rocking the trailer, thunder and lightning crackling in the sky. The power doesn't go out, but only just barely, the flickers making his heart pound for reasons that have nothing to do with weather.

There's a knock on the trailer door, and he opens it to find Steve Harrington standing on the porch, hair plastered to his head, clothes soaked. Robin's bike is propped against one of the awning supports. Familiar panic snaps to life in his gut.

"God, Steve, are you okay? Did something happen? That's Robin's bike, where's the Beamer? Is it--is it Vecna? Is--" He's blabbering can't stop, so he shoves his palm against his lips.

"It's not--not Upside Down stuff." He runs a hand through his soggy hair. "Can I come in, man? I--I want to tell you something."

This snaps Eddie out of his panic, and he's moving aside, saying, "Oh my god, get in here, you're soaked. Let me get towels. Do you want a change of clothes, I can--"

Steve catches him by the elbow and he full stops at the look in those big hazel eyes, fearful and sad and he doesn't know what, but his anxiety amps back up.

"I was with Robin and we were--we were talking, you know? And I told her that I like somebody, like really like them, but it was unexpected and--and--it's a guy. He's a guy but I still like girls? Robin said--she said that I'm probably bisexual. That I like guys and girls and--and everyone, I think."

It sends shockwaves through him, and he hopes it doesn't show, doesn't think it shows, but he's having trouble processing. Steve is bi and he likes someone and--Eddie stuffs down the jealousy that claws at him, knows it's more important that he's here for his friend.

"Thank you for telling me, sweetheart." He reaches out, slow in case Steve doesn't want to be hugged, but he launches himself into Eddie's arms.

Eddie holds him tight, heedless of his wet clothes, can feel his shoulders shake, and it tears Eddie's heart in two. All he can do is hold Steve and offer comfort, jealousy be damned.

"You're so brave, honey," he says once the tears taper off.

Steve gives a wet chuckle, face still buried against Eddie's neck. "I don't know about that. I think I got snot in your hair."

"It'll wash out." He laughs. "Is now the time to welcome you to the family? Apparently, we're growing exponentially."

"Does the welcome include a cake or something? I could really use cake."

And God, Steve, is so fucking cute, so sweet, so--everything Eddie has always wanted, and he--it's an accident, or at least, thoughtless--he presses a kiss to Steve's temple. More than one.

Steve pulls back fast, and Eddie lets go immediately. "Sorry, sorry. I--that was stupid. You like someone already, and I--"

His words are cut off as Steve kisses him. Steve kisses him? His brain can't process, but he kisses back. Can't not, not with Steve. Like, he doesn't know anything, head empty, but his body is with the program.

They break apart, he's breathing hard. Steve is beautifully flushed, mouth red and swollen. "You like someone," is what Eddie says.

Steve laughs. "I like you, Munson. Fucking crazy about you."

He smiles, so big it hurts, so big it grows into a delight laugh. "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he says.

---

Six Years Later

They're in bed, Saturday morning, rain pattering softly on the window.

Steve places slow kisses against his naked tummy, makes him tremble, shiver with overstimulation.

"Baby," he whines. "Sweetheart."

Steve smiles up at him, something cold pressing against his ribs, then into his hand.

It's a ring, black metal, shiny and iridescent as he turns it in the light. "What--Steve?"

With one last kiss to his hip bone, Steve sits up, slips the ring onto Eddie's finger. "I'm going to marry you one day, Eddie Munson."

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devil-in-hiding · 1 month

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On The Run Part 1

The Barn

mdni

cw: violent behavior, suggestive themes, i will get better at this i swear

It’s a downpour tonight. The roof overhead rattles with the force of the winds outside, keeping you awake. Your eyes drift towards the window periodically, watching the lightening illuminate the night sky, thunder rolling closer and closer as the wind hails. Your four loyal, massive Tibetan Mastiffs lay around your bed, dead to the storm raging outside. You’d normally have them out in the barn, but with how terrible it’s coming down you would have felt terrible.

But now you lie awake, worry in the pit of your stomach. Some of the goats had just given birth, and with this storm you knew the kids had to be distressed, and their bleats often agitated the horses.

You absentmindedly reach down to run a hand through Dixon’s fur, who lets out a pleased huff, nuzzling your palm. You try to let the beat of rain lure you to sleep, eyes finally feeling heavy as your breathing evens out.

But then you hear it, over the raging of the storm you can still hear your stallion, Sebastian, neighing, and then the pound of his hoofs against his stalls, and you're flying out of your bed.

Nothing spooks your stallion, absolutely nothing.

You race down the stairs in just your nightgown, rushing to pull on your boots, no socks, as Dixon, Grimes, Judy and Maggie come bounding after you. You throw open the door, the screen slamming against the house from the wind but you pay no mind, running towards the barn, barely catching yourself from slipping in the mud.

The closer you get, the louder you can hear all your herd. Your hearts pounding harder than the rain when you reach the barn doors, and you can hear the dogs barking behind you as you reach to yank open the double doors

Locked.

Your barn is never locked.

From the inside.

“Hello?!” You yell, slamming your palms against the wood, guilt wracking your body when you hear something scurry away on the other side.

“What are you doing in there?” You scream, shaking the handles with all your might, but they hold strong, and after a harsh yank, your hand slips, sending you flying into the mud.

You can hear what can only be described as chaos in the barn, and tears prick your eyes as you crawl forward, banging your fists against the doors.

“PLEASE! Please don’t hurt my animals! They’re already scared! Please- AH!” You scream as the door flies open, sending you face first into the barn floor.

You barely register the blood dripping from your hands as you scramble to stand up, taking in the scene.

The mares were going wild, bucking and kicking the doors of their stalls while Sebastian raged, having busted his door down, prancing infront of his ladies protectively.

Your goats were huddled in a group on the corner, the kids tucked between their bodies and the sheep standing in front of them, shaking so badly their wool was trembling. The rest of the stock is scattered, hiding in various corners of the barn.

You whistle, which immediately catches Sebastian’s attention, huffing and puffing.

“I’m here! It’s okay, ma is here!” You hush them, slowly walking towards the stallion with your hand out, palm up.

He neighs, tossing his head, leaning down to sniff your hand, when he stops, and suddenly a new sound reaches your ears.

Dixon and Grimes are growling out a warning.

Before you can even blink, there’s a hand over your mouth. Your gasp is muffled at the pressure of cold steel at your neck, an arm wrapping around your chest pulling you into a firm, solid figure.

“Not. A. Sound.” A gruff voice barks in your ear, and your blood runs cold.

“Lock the doors back.” The man orders, and a sinking feeling overcomes you when you hear a new set of footsteps. You stumble as you’re jerked back, Dixon barking as you start to thrash, kicking your feet, but the grip around you tightens.

“Fuckin- Knock it off!” He growls, pressing what you can only guess is your carving knife painfully against your throat and Grimes lets out a guttural sounding bark before lunging, only to yelp when a foot shoves him back, and you thrash harder, attempting to nip at this man’s hand.

“Stop you little fuckin-SHIT!” He bellows as your teeth sink into his palm, not releasing until you taste his blood splash over your teeth, and then you’re on the ground.

“Little bitch!”

“Don’t touch my fucking animals.” You spit, turning to stare up at the intruder, just to be met with a ski mask and cold eyes. You can’t help but freeze, the carving knife glinting in the low light of the barn.

He’s quick, and you try to stumble to your feet, but you're once more in his grasp. You go for a punch, but he catches your wrist easily, pinning your arm behind your back with one hand and yanking your forward with the other, pinning you against him, and the knife is at your throat again.

“Let’s try this again.” He says between clenched teeth, tightening his grip till you whimper.

“Ghost. Lighten up.” A voice pipes up, raspy and stern with a commanding tone. The masked man, Ghost, rolls his eyes, but loosens the hold he has on your wrist.

“Who else lives here?” He questions, and it feels as though a bucket of cold water has been dumped over you.

“No one…” You whisper, squeezing your eyes shut when his grip tightens once more. “Don’t bullshit us. Who else lives on this land with you?!” He’s in your face, making you open your eyes, tears blurring your vision.

“It’s just me I swear!” You sob, feeling the tip of the knife digging into your skin. “I swear to god it’s just me, you can go check the house-“

The pressure of the knife is gone, and the shock of your bare knees hitting the barn floors barely phases you as Dixon and Grimes dart to your side, whining softly as they nudge your hands with their heads.

“Think she’s telling the truth?” A new voice speaks up, a thick Scottish accent ringing in your ears as you try to put distance between you and the four, you are finally able to count, men standing in the middle of your barn.

“Explains the massive mutts.” Ghost grunts, glancing at the four mastiffs, who you push behind you, shielding them, trying not to let your fear show more than it already has.

“They aren’t mutts.” You hiss, Judy nuzzling her giant head into your back as you shuffle them back, away from these men.

You hold your head high, but your lip can’t help but tremble when all their eyes turn to you.

“You sure there’s no one else in that great big house?” The older man with scruffy facial hair asks with a tilt of his head, and a spark of agitation flares in your chest. Why did they want to know so badly? if they were going to…

If they were going to kill you, surely they would have done it by now, right?

“I swear on my life.” You plead, voice cracking. You’re horrified when you realize your nightgown has been soaked through this whole time, noticing the way the one with the mohawk, the Scot, keeps eyeing your bosom. You look away, cheeks burning as fresh tears prick your eyes.

“Soap, Gaz. You two go check the house. Report back to me, I want a moment with her.” The unnamed man ordered.

Mohawk and a dark skinned man nodded, heading out of the barn. Ghost passes one of them the carving knife, and your fist curl in your lap.

“What do I do Price?” Ghost asks, and the man, Price, waves a hand, eyes trained on you. “Search the surrounding area, look for anyone hiding on the property.”

“Understood.”

And then you were alone. The barn has settled, most of your animals having made their way to the farthest wall behind you. He approaches you slowly, cautiously eyeing Dixon who raises up, baring his teeth, but you click your tongue, and he steps back immediately, sitting at your side like a statue as the others guard the flock.

You feel a puff of air breath against your head, and you can’t help the wet laugh that bubbles out when you realize Sebastian is standing guard over you.

“Seems you’ve got yourself quite the protection.”

He muses, eyes bouncing between the animals.

“They were abandoned when I found this place.” You confess, a slight tremble to your voice as you watch Price crouch in front of you. He’s quiet for a moment, eyes flickering over your form and you wrap your arms around your middle.

“If my men are walking into a trap, whoever is there will be killed.” He says simply, tone almost bored and you feel your face pale.

“They’re not! This is my land! Mine!” You insist, frustrated tears falling freely as you flex your fingers, muscles tense.

“Tiny little bird like you, all by herself?” Ghost scoffs as he returns, and you feel your ears burn.

“What did you find?” Price asks him over his shoulders.

“Can hardly see shit in this rain but I found no one. There’s a truck around back but the engine seems shot.” He shrugs, eyes peering at you through that ski mask and you avert your gaze.

The doors open against, the other two rushing in, soaked to the bone.

“The house is clear sir. Only one room looks lived in, two guest rooms down the hall on the upper level and a small library on the ground level. Gaz found a shotgun by the front door.” The Scot, Soap, you gather, reports back to Price.

“I told you. It’s just me out here.” You mutter, and this time Ghost is crouching in front of you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him.

“You hiding from something little bird?” He asks, cocking his head to the side

“You’re the ones breaking into my barn and scaring my animals!” You snap, trying to get out of his grip, but he only holds tighter.

“You’re a little fighter aren’t you?” You see his eyes crinkle, and you're shocked this man even knows how to smile under that mask.

He releases you, standing up and stepping back to stand with the other three men, who still loom over you. You feel like a lamb being sent to the slaughter house, and you bury one of your hands in Dixon’s thick fur to ground yourself.

“Please-“ You start, voice shaking, and you feel a tear slip down your cheek.

“I don’t have much, there’s maybe three thousand dollars in the safe in my closet. I’ll give you the code just…” Your voice trails off, a sob slipping past your lips and Dixon whines, low and sad as he places his giant head in your lap.

“Please don’t hurt us. D-don’t hurt my animals- I won’t even call the cops, it would take the nearest deputy three hours to even reach my house.” You beg, exhaustion and nerves taking over as your shoulders slump, trembling with your quiet sobs.

You see Price’s boots approach you, and he tilts your chin up, and you flinch when he brushes a tear away with his thumb.

“Stop all these tears pretty. We don’t want to hurt you or your little farm.” He coos down at you. Confusion swirls in your head, making you dizzy as another sob can’t help but slip out, Price cupping your cheeks, shushing you softly as he wipes your cheeks.

“I don’t understand…” You whisper, searching this strange, terrifying man’s face for any sign of deceit, but he just grins at you.

“You told us the truth. Very good.” It sounds almost like praise the way he whispers it to you, and you whimper, shame filling your stomach. You look away from him, taking a shuddering breath as you struggle to compose yourself.

“Let’s get you back inside hm? Can’t have you catching a cold.” He tsks, and before you can argue, you’re being lifted into his arms, tucked against his chest. You try to struggle, but the adrenaline has worn off, confusion left in its wake as these strange men usher the herd into their correct pens, Soap barley escaping one of the Roosters pecking at him in defiance, before pausing.

“I don’t think I want to mess with this guy.” Gaz mutters, the three of them staring at Sebastian, who stares back, as though daring them to try and corral him.

“He.. He’ll go back in his stall once it’s quiet… You scared them…” You mutter, tired as you give in, resting your head against the strong chest you’re pressed against, and you feel Price’s grip tighten.

“You’re freezing sweetheart, let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” He murmers, and your heart skips.

“I can do that myself.” You hiss, staring up at him with narrowed eyes, despite the fact you can feel your cheeks burning.

He just laughs.

#call of duty #cod mwii #cod x reader #call of duty smut #tf 141 x reader #poly 141 x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #gaz x reader #x reader #cod smut #on the run

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sweet-as-an-angel · 7 months

Text

Ghost, Simon & You [SMUT]

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Implied Breeding Kink, Implied Forced Pregnancy, Stomach Bulging, Possessive! Ghost, Kinda Evil! Ghost, Simon and Ghost are Separate People in the Same Body, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Backed up! Simon who uses you as his personal cum dump whenever he returns from deployment. You know you’re in for an absolute pounding when you hear him banging on your front door, only to see him standing there, tall and dark as a shadow, looking down at you with an almost manic gaze.

He hasn't even been home to change first, still clad in his balaclava, eye paint and the under-layers of his tactical attire. He pushes his way in, kicking the door shut behind him with his boot and pressing his lips to yours. It doesn’t matter that you can’t feel his skin, that he’s almost crushing your skull as he grips your cheeks and brings you as close as physically possible, that you can taste gunpowder, dust and death on his mask. That this isn’t Simon at all, but the unholy spirit that possesses him.

Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter.

It also doesn’t matter that he literally tears your shirt from your body, a rumble reverberating through his chest when he sees you without underwear. You were expecting him. Good.

Simon – Ghost – is never gentle when it comes to the first round. He never strips all the way down, either, always leaving his mask on, too. He just yanks his pants down as far as necessary before pressing the hard, aching, weeping tip of his cock to your entrance, pushing in with neither care, nor restraint.

He sees the way you fist the sheets, face down against the mattress but your cries still managing to reach him. He just doesn’t care. Especially when your familiar warmth encompasses him, pulls him into the here and now.

It’s at this point that Ghost sees why Simon loves being around you so much, loves being with you. In you.

His member protrudes, a bump in your stomach evident like a tombstone. Whenever you try to press it, try to flatten your hand against it to get a feel for just how big it is, he takes your wrists in his hands and presses them against the mattress. The message is clear: you don’t interfere. I’ll cum when I say so, not by your hand.

Ghost doesn’t stop until you’re raw and red and leaking with either his or your juices, a ring of white forming at the base of his shaft where you can’t fit any more of his length inside you. You feel it, pulsating and battering and alive in your middle, feeling as if it’s nudging everything else out the way so it can lie uninhibited inside your warm cavern.

He’s hard and fast, rough yet thorough. He never leaves an inch of you unmarked, unbruised, by the time he’s done. Whether he’s aware or not, you always end up finishing first, your walls tightening and pulsating around Ghost’s cock as he continues to abuse your hole, hitting your most sensitive point over and over again, prolonging your orgasm and leaving you utterly spent yet satisfied.

When Ghost cums, it’s long, hard and hot. So, so hot – as if the all fire of his anger he’s had building up these last few months is now cradled within you, an unspeakable offspring. He never immediately pulls out. No, he waits, hands about your waist, no doubt bruises from where he’s gripped you, where he’s kept you so he can make sure you don’t crawl away.

His load is thick and there’s so much of it – you feel like you’re being filled past full.

If you’re capable and fertile, he often considers not giving you birth control after the fact, rather letting you stay dormant in bed and tying you up so you have no choice but to let his seed take. The idea never fails to send a shiver down his spine, making him hard all over again as the image of you, bedbound and incapacitated by his hand is enough to make him retreat to another room just so he doesn’t act on the fantasy.

The look on Simon’s face, he often wonders, when he finds you’re marked as Ghost’s, carrying a permanent reminder that he got to you first; when he realises that the creature he entrusts his dirty work to, his militant alter ego, has utterly ravaged and claimed you from the inside out.

The horror. The futility of apology. It’s enough to satiate Ghost for now. Enough, enough.

And with that, he pulls out, taking the blazing heat of his body with him. He leaves you on the bed, ass up, face down, with his cum dripping out of you. Leaves you for Simon to clean up, to deal with.

And to your side does Simon come rushing, for once Ghost removes his mask, so does he the haze he casts over his unwilling creator, letting him return to humanity. The vague pulsing of his member, the wetness coating it and the sheen of sweat clinging to Simon’s body is enough to let him know – remind him – what’s happened.

He comes to your aid, scooping you up in his arms and tending to you in every way he knows how - in every way that’s routine. He apologises, over and over, for letting Ghost do this you, for letting him have his way with you, for not being able to protect you–

You shush him. Look at him with kind eyes. You tell him you’re happy to do it, that you’d rather it be you than anyone else, that you wouldn’t be doing it if you didn’t love Simon. Which you do. Monumentally. And Simon loves you, too. He just fears that Ghost may be growing to love you, too – in ways he shouldn’t.

He feels him now, watching you bathe, sweeping over the bruises on your wrists, your hips and waist, the pressure in the back of his head mounting as Ghost lusts for the control to do it all again.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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nanaslutt · 7 months

Text

It's not a wet dream

cont: fem reader, somnophillia, pre-established consent, oral(m!r), dirty talk, Geto has sensitive balls, teasing, deep throating, overstimulation, cum eating

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You winced when Suguru's door made a loud creek as you pulled it open, slipping inside his room slowly. You turned the doorknob all the way down before pushing it back, closing the door. You were enveloped in darkness once more, save for the small orange lamp in the corner of Suguru's room. He must've been too tired or drunk to turn it off last night.

Suguru was out until almost 4 am celebrating Gojo's birthday with Nanami and a few other friends of theirs. Nanami said he would keep an eye on Geto and make sure he got home and an appropriate time, but when you heard the two men drunkenly stumbling their way through yours and Geto's apartment in the middle of the night, you surmised that Nanami had gotten pressured into drinking more than he said he was going to.

You were almost impressed. After all, it took a lot to knock Nanami Kento out. You had to be careful making your way through the living room and into Geto's room, trying not to trip on the rug and fall to the ground, afraid of waking Nanami.

You sighed a breath of relief when you made it to his room without making a sound. You weren't sure about Nanami, but Suguru was a heavy sleeper. He could sleep through the end and rebirth of the world. Which made your little plan perfect.

It was a little earlier than you normally get up on weekends, but a certain dream about your long-haired boyfriend woke you up with a burning fire between your thighs. You would be lying if you said you weren't nervous though. You knew Geto had told you he was okay with this kind of thing, his exact words being, "You can do whatever you want to me pretty girl, I'm okay with anything as long as it's you." but even with that, you had made no attempts to try anything.

You shook your head remembering his prior words from weeks ago, your face heating up at the thought. Your eyes immediately found his strong body, sprawled out on the bed. Suguru was only clad in his boxers as he lay on his back, one knee bent and leg hiked up, one arm by his side, and the other underneath his head, cradling it.

His hair was down completely, the dark strands falling gracefully down his shoulders and on the white sheets underneath him. He looked so peaceful, handsome face completely relaxed and tipped to the side, revealing his strong jawline and the perfect strong slope of his pointed nose.

You swallowed hard, you were starting to see the appeal in this. He was completely at your mercy, and he liked it. You released a shaky breath as you dragged your eyes across his chiseled body, completely bare for you to look at. You couldn't tell if Geto had a boner or not, you could see the outline of his impressive cock from where you stood at the end of his bed, but unless you felt it, you wouldn't know. He always was a shower.

You bit your lip before crossing your arms over your body and grabbing along the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off of your body. Your tits laid bare into the air of the room, the bottom half of you only clad in a thin pair of black panties, basic, Suguru's favorite.

You carefully placed your hand on the end of his bed and crawled onto the sheets, going as slow as possible to not wake him so soon. If he woke up once you had his cock in your mouth, fine, but you had to have some fun with him first. His legs were spread just enough to give you the perfect spot to lie down between them. Your tummy and chest rested on his soft comforter which had been shoved down the bed, only covering half of his shins and his feet.

The thought of Geto kicking off his sheets in his sleep because of the heat made you smile. His face probably looked so grumpy and uncomfortable.

You tentatively placed your hands down on his hip bones, rubbing your thumbs in small circles against them. Geto stayed completely still, making you release the breath you didn't even know you were holding. You decided to test your luck further. You extended your arms, rubbing up his naked torso while you rested your head against his thigh, watching your hands move over his porcelain skin.

Your fingers traced the indents of his abs all the way up to the bottom of his paks before you started slowly sliding them back down, this time caressing the side of his body, over his ribs. You noticed his cock jump behind the confines of his boxers as you touched his burning skin, making a mischievous smile grace your features.

You dragged your fingers down and down until you reached his sharp v-line. Adding a little more pressure, you traced the deep indents, resulting in another twitch of his cock. You bit your lip, dropping your eyes down to his crotch which was eye level with you. It was steadily stirring to life as you ran your fingers along the hem of his boxers, teasing him.

Suguru had the sexiest happy trail that started just below his belly button, you couldn't get enough of it. You lightly scratched your nails down the trail of hair, going past the hem of his boxers and over the material, ever so slightly grazing the head of his cock before you dragged them back up, repeating that process a few more times.

Suguru's abs tightened before relaxing, his cock throbbing in tandem. He was starting to feel it. You raised your head off of his thigh and leaned forward, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to the shaft of his dick. He wasn't fully hard, but he was getting there.

With that, you tucked your fingers underneath the band of his boxers and started sliding the material down far enough to where his cock and balls were out. His cock twitched heavily against his thigh when you exposed it to the air, removing him from his confines. Suguru turned his head to the other side of the room, his eyebrows ruffling almost unnoticeable before his relaxed expression was back on his face.

You kept a watchful gaze on his face as you reached out to grab his twitching cock. It was stirring like it had a mind of its own, eager for relief. You wrapped your hand around the midsection of his half-hard cock and slowly stroked your hand down his shaft before going back up. A bead of pre-cum dripped out from the head, smearing on your hand as you stroked him off, easing the slide.

Suguru's abs tightened repeatedly before relaxing each time you jerked your hand up and down slowly. You paused your movements, grabbing him at his midsection before you released your thumb from him and started rubbing tight circles around his frenulum. Geto's breath hitched, his eyebrows furrowing again made you wonder if he was going to wake up, but he stayed knocked out.

"Good boy." You whispered, sliding your hand up to jerk off his sensitive tip, focusing all of your attention there. A soft grunt left your boyfriend's throat, the corner of his lip twitching with it. You couldn't help but cross your legs over one another, bringing some relief to the burning heat between your thighs.

Geto was stirring more now, legs and abs flexing, more soft, barely there sounds leaving his throat. He wasn't going to stay asleep for much longer. Geto was now fully hard, his thick cock straining strongly agaisnt your hand as you rubbed his soft tip, making more pre-cum spill from the tip. Squelching noises rang in your ears, making your heartbeat speed up. The sound was so lewd.

Sliding your hand down to the base of his cock, you grabbed his hip with your free hand and angled his cock slightly down to your mouth. You stuck out your tongue and let your hot breath tease his cock, making it twitch harshly before you gave it a few soft taps against your tongue, the small taste of it alone making your tastebuds erupt with the salty-sweet flavor of his cum.

Wasting no more time, you took him into your mouth, wrapping your lips around his cock. Geto's body jerked violently at the feeling of you instantly taking as much of him into your throat as you could. You bobbed your head up and down on him, using the grip you had around the base of his cock to smear your saliva onto the rest of him.

Suguru groaned when his tip hit the back of your throat, the feeling making your eyes water as you fought back a cough. You pulled off of him completely, your hand jerking him off quickly and smoothly with the added wetness as you dropped your head down to his balls. You took one of his balls into your mouth, rolling your tongue around it softly the way he always begs you to when you suck him off.

You should've guessed this would be what woke him up. Geto's bent leg straightened out as he stirred from his sleep, the dark-haired man almost immediately feeling the pounding in his head from his awful hangover. But there was something else along with that sensation, something that overwhelmed it in a positive, pleasureful way.

Geto rubbed the sleep from his eyes with one hand while the other went down to grab his cock, or at least try. He was met with the feel of hair against his hand, his fingers splaying out along the top of your head. "Oh fuuuuuck, baby?" Geto groaned, his hips thrusting shallowly into the air, fucking his dick into your hand. Geto dropped his head down to look at the scene that was unfolding below him.

There was still sleep flooding his eyes, making his vision slightly blurred but he couldn't mistake the sight of your gorgeous face, sucking on his balls while you jerked him off. "Oh baby, oh fuckk..." Geto groaned, his jaw falling open at the sight before he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

You unlatched your lips from around his sack with a wet popping sound, turning your head right away to face him with a dopey, cock drunk smile. "Good morning Sugu, how are you feeling?" You asked, not giving him a second to answer before you replaced your hand with your mouth. You took his cock into your throat with ease, your hand that was jerking him off splaying out on his pelvis around the base of his cock as you sucked him off with no hands.

"Holy fuck, oh fuck, so tighttt" Suguru groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair at the feeling of your hot mouth around him. You kept your eyes on him as you bobbed your head up and down, humming around him. The vibrations were getting sent straight to his balls, already readying to spill his seed. "Good now baby, s-so good, ohmygod so good." Suguru groaned, trying to answer your question but getting swept away by the pleasure.

"I fucking love you so much, holy shit." The man groaned in his deep, sleepy voice. You had to fight back a smile, not wanting him to feel any teeth as you sucked him off. "Keep going, s-suck my balls again baby, please." He begged. His voice was so much deeper than usual, it was so raspy and needy, it made you grind down into the bed, rubbing your clit against the inside of your thighs pressed so tightly together.

You released his cock from your mouth with a cute "ahhh-" sound before you were leaning down again to suck his balls into your mouth. Geto's eyes rolled back in his head as he released a long groan, his hand pressing you harder against them. He caught you off guard when he wrapped his hand around yours that was jerking him off, speeding up your pace.

His hand was shaky and jerky, and it had no rhythm, Suguru just needed to feel like he was doing something because he was feeling so much. He was so overwhelmed with pleasure, and so early in the morning after drinking so much the night before- you couldn't blame him for being so overstimulated and disoriented.

"Yeah baby, yeah baby, yeah baby, harder, suck 'em harder-" Geto slurred through his teeth, lips pursing around them. His hand stiffened over your own as his body went rigid, almost on the brink of his orgasm. You moaned around him, unable to keep your own pleasured noises down from how good making him feel good felt. Geto's thighs pressed together around your body, the muscles under the skin starting to tremble as his nails scratched against your scalp.

His head thrashed back and forth against the bed, his eyes squeezed tightly together, eyebrows knit with them. His back started arching ever so slightly with his impending orgasm, his groans turning into short gasps as his mouth dropped open and closed like a fish out of water.

"Don't stop pretty don't fucking stop, 'm gunna cum, c-cumming cumming!" Geto whimpered out his words, the last word being your name coming through his lips cracked and ruined before you felt the first hot rope of his cum land on the side of your face.

You moaned around him, sucking harder and squeezing his cock tightly as you worked him through his orgasm. Geto groaned as he released his seed, his hand stilling over yours which kept jerking him off, milking all the cum out of his cock. "T-thank you, baby, ohhhh fuck- thank you-" Geto groaned through his high. His balls clenched and throbbed in your mouth as he released his seed, even more so as you ran your tongue over them, encouraging him.

Geto's, and your own hand was covered in his cum, as the last few spurts of his seed had been weaker, merely dribbling out over your fingers from his tip. Once Geto was throughout done cumming, you detached from around his balls, letting them rest empty and wet against his thighs. Geto was still fighting to catch his breath, his hand on the back of your head falling to the nape of your neck as he no longer had any strength left in his body to hold you tight.

Releasing his cock, his hand falling off of yours, you wiped his cum on the bedsheets next to him. Crawling up his body, you straddled his hips, your panties undoubtedly getting soaked with his leftover cum as his softening cock pressed agaisnt your cunt. Suguru's unfocused eyes found yours, his jaw open and a pretty deep blush spread across his cheeks.

Smiling, you swiped your fingers across the cum on your face, pulling them away to look at his mess. Suguru watched you carefully, knowing exactly what you were planning to do even despite his fucked out state. You brought your fingers to his mouth, to which he eagerly accepted. He took your cum coated fingers into his mouth, his tongue licking off his own seed and swallowing greedily before he released them, letting you pull them back.

"How did that taste Sugu?" You asked teasingly, holding his chiseled cheeks with both of your hands, wiping the long stray hairs off of his face that were stuck there by his sweat. "Fucking delicious." God he was so shameless, it made your cunt throb with need. "How did I end up with such a dirty man?" You asked, fighting back a laugh as you shook his limp head back and forth, a dopey smile on his lips.

"You love how nasty I am, get's 'ur pussy all wet," Suguru said, his words slurred together and ridden with sleep. "Damn right it does," you answered, leaning in to kiss him softly against his lips before you pulled away, sitting up on him.

You placed your hands on his chest, letting your cunt rest firmer against his spent cock, an action that made him groan deep in his throat. "You gonna help me out too? Gonna let me sit on your face for waking you up so nice?" You whispered, teasing the skin of his pecs with your nails.

Suguru licked his lips and tipped his head to the side, his hands finding purchase on your thighs before he gave them a squeeze, his eyes squinting as he smiled. "Of course princess, come up here 'n give me a taste."

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pucksandpower · 1 month

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I’m Gonna Wife You Up

Max Verstappen x best friend!Reader

Summary: in which your best friend wins his first World Drivers’ Championship, proposes through text, and confesses his feelings for you … in that order

It’s just after 2 am when your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You groan and roll over, squinting at the bright screen. A new text from Max. You can’t help but smile as you open it.

Ik im drunk but listen

Im gonna wife you up one day

Thats all

Good night

You laugh out loud at the drunken confession, shaking your head fondly. Leave it to Max to make even his most romantic statements sound completely ridiculous.

The two of you have been inseparable since you were kids racing in karts together. As his career skyrocketed into Formula 1 and global fame, you were always there by his side as his best friend and perpetual voice of reason.

Well, most of the time anyway.

As you type out a teasing response, another text comes through.

Wait no

Im coming over

You barely have time to process it before your phone starts ringing, Max’s goofy grinning face flashing on the screen. You accept the FaceTime call and he immediately starts rambling.

“Y/N! Y/N listen. I just won the fucking World Championship! Can you believe it?”

“Yes, I can actually,” you chuckle. “I was there, remember? Sitting right in the garage.”

“Of course you were! You’re always there,” he slurs, words running together. “My biggest supporter. My good luck charm.”

“I think you might be overestimating my involvement a tad there, buddy.”

He shakes his head adamantly. “No way. I couldn’t do any of this without you, y’know? All those years of you kicking my ass in the karts, pushing me to be better ...”

You scoff. “Oh please, you were always the better driver. I just got a head start.”

“That has nothing to do with it! You’re just crazy talented. Why d’you think I’ve kept you around all these years?”

“Gee, thanks.” You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. Drunken banter with Max is one of your favorite pastimes.

Suddenly, there’s a loud banging on your door. You jump, staring at it in confusion.

“Y/N? Y/N you home?” Max’s muffled voice calls from the other side.

You glance back at your phone to see he’s now wandering down the hallway, FaceTiming you from outside your hotel room. Of course the idiot wouldn’t think to simply text you a heads up.

“Max! I’ll be right there, just stay put for once in your life.”

You hurry to the door and swing it open. There he is, leaning against the wall in a rumpled dress shirt and loosened tie, phone raised as he grins at you proudly. You can’t stop the grin that spreads across your own face at the sight of your best friend, for once totally carefree after years of endless pressure and scrutiny.

“Hey champ,” you tease, stepping aside so he can stumble into your living room. “Need me to give you a hand there?”

“I’m good, I’m good.” He waves you off, somehow managing to trip over his own feet and crash onto your couch. You wince as he lets out a groan.

“Yeah, you seem totally fine.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles petulantly, making you laugh.

You move to stand over him, arms crossed as you drink in the sight. His dress shirt is untucked and half unbuttoned, tie completely askew. His carefully styled hair is now a tousled mess, a few stray strands falling over his bright eyes. Despite his drunken state, an almost giddy smile plays at his lips.

“What?” He asks, catching your fond gaze.

You shake your head. “Nothing, I’m just … I’m really proud of you, Max.”

His grin widens and he grabs your hand, tugging you down to sit beside him on the couch. “I did it, didn’t I? I actually fucking did it!”

“You did.” You squeeze his hand, hardly believing it yourself. “World Champion at just 24 years old. You deserve this so much.”

He sobers a bit, blue eyes shining intensely as he holds your gaze. “I couldn’t have done it without you though. You’ve been there every step of the way. Through all the good times and the bad ...”

You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off.

“No, shhh. Let me say this.” He takes a deep breath, seeming to struggle to find the right words. “You … you always believed in me. No matter what. Even when I didn’t believe in myself, even when everyone was writing me off and calling me arrogant or reckless … you were always there to pick me up and set me straight.”

His gaze drops briefly before locking with yours again. “You don’t know what that means to me, Y/N. To have someone like that, someone who’s always got your back no matter what. Who calls you on your bullshit but also hypes you up more than anyone. I honestly don’t know if I’d be here without you.”

Your throat feels tight as you blink back unexpected tears. You’ve never seen Max be this open and vulnerable before. You reach up impulsively to brush that stray lock of hair from his forehead, making him catch his breath.

In a burst of uncharacteristic boldness, you decide to be just as honest with him. “Max … you have to know how I feel about you after all these years. How much you mean to me.”

He swallows hard, eyes flickering down to your lips for a moment. “Then show me.”

You search his gaze, trying to gauge if this is really what he wants, if he’ll regret this in the morning when he’s sober. But beneath the alcohol-induced haze, you see only sincerity and a longing you’ve secretly shared for so long.

So you lean in slowly, cupping his stubbly jaw in your palm as your lips finally meet his in a kiss you’ve dreamed about for years. It starts soft and tentative, exploring each other in this new territory. But it doesn’t take long for the heat to rise between you, years of built up tension boiling over.

His hands come up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he angles his head for deeper access. You let out a soft whimper against his lips, reveling in the feeling of finally having Max like this, all yours. He inhales sharply at the sound, like he can’t quite believe this is real either.

You pour everything into that kiss — your friendship, your inside jokes, and countless shared memories. All the pride and protectiveness, the unspoken words you’ve held back for so long.

And Max gives it all right back to you tenfold, kissing you with an undeniable hunger and passion reflective of the fierce determination that’s shaped him into a World Champion.

When you finally have to break apart for air, you’re both panting softly, chests heaving. Max rests his forehead against yours, eyes shining with an unmistakable tenderness.

“I meant what I said, y’know?” His voice is low and gravelly. “I really am gonna wife you up one day.”

You let out a watery chuckle, feeling deliriously happy and overwhelmed all at once. Only Max could make a drunken proclamation like that somehow sound so sweet and natural.

“Is that a promise?” You murmur against his lips.

He captures them in another searing kiss, sending tingles down your spine.

“It’s a goddamn certainty, schatje.”

Max wastes no time in deepening the kiss, his tongue slipping past your parted lips to explore your mouth hungrily. A low groan rumbles in his chest as your fingers tangle in the short hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him even closer.

“Max ...” you breathe out between heated kisses. “We should … move this … to the bedroom.”

He answers by nipping at your bottom lip teasingly before trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline.

“Bed … good idea ...” he mumbles against the sensitive skin just below your ear, making you shiver.

Before you can protest further, Max is clumsily maneuvering to straddle your lap on the couch, never breaking the fevered kiss. You can’t help but giggle at his drunken lack of coordination as he nearly topples the both of you to the floor.

“Smooth moves there, champ,” you quip breathlessly.

He leans back with a devilish smirk, blue eyes sparkling mischievously. “You know me, schatje. I’m a regular Casanova.”

You snort at that. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

His grin widening, Max suddenly lurches forward to blow a raspberry right on your neck, making you squeal with laughter.

“Max! You’re too drunk for this, you idiot.”

“Never too drunk for you,” he husks in that low, rumbly tone that sends tingles down your spine.

Before you can formulate a response, his nimble fingers are stumbling through undoing the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric aside to bare his toned chest to your roaming gaze. You can’t resist reaching out to run your palms over the skin, relishing in the firm muscle and light sprinkling of hair.

Max’s eyes slip closed, head falling back slightly as he savors your touch. “That’s it … been waiting for your hands on me for years.”

You swallow hard, suddenly very aware of how real this is, how you’re both finally crossing that line after harboring secret feelings for one another for so long. Before you can overthink it, Max is tugging insistently at the hem of your t-shirt.

Meeting his heated gaze, you raise your arms obediently to allow him to undress you. His hooded eyes darken further as more of your skin is slowly revealed to him, lingering reverently on your body in a way that makes your cheeks flush. You’ve never felt so wanted, so desired.

Once your shirt is tossed carelessly aside, Max leans in to capture your lips in another smoldering kiss, hands roaming across the newly exposed skin of your lower back and sides. You sigh into his mouth, arching shamelessly into his touch like you’ve been craving for ages.

In one fluid motion, Max hooks his arms beneath your thighs and stands from the couch, your legs instinctively winding around his waist as he hauls you up against his chest. You can’t help the startled laugh that escapes you, breaking the kiss.

“Max! What are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed, of course,” he rumbles, already stumbling in the direction of your bedroom. “Can’t very well have my way with you on that tiny couch, can I?”

You shake your head at his forwardness, kissing along the sharp line of his jaw. “Is that so? And just what did you have in mind for this bed of mine, Mr. Verstappen?”

He shivers at your teasing tone, finally reaching the edge of your mattress and unceremoniously tumbling you both down onto the plush comforter. You let out a rather undignified squeak as Max lands half on top of you, quickly rolling to pin you beneath him.

Any snarky remarks you may have prepared immediately die on your lips when you take in his appearance — shirtless and slightly disheveled, those incredible eyes dark with undisguised want, pink lips parted enticingly. He’s never looked more gorgeous.

“You really wanna know what I have in mind?” Max’s voice is low and husky, making something deep within you tighten with anticipation. He leans down to trail scorching kisses along the sensitive column of your throat. “I’m gonna take my time exploring every single inch of you, liefje. Mapping out all those gorgeous curves of yours ...”

He punctuates the words by rolling his hips firmly against yours, allowing you to feel the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your core. You can’t stop the whimpery moan that falls from your lips at the delicious friction.

Max grins wickedly against your neck. “That’s it, make more of those pretty sounds for me ...”

You tangle your fingers in his tousled hair to tug his mouth back to yours, unable to resist tasting him again. The kiss quickly turns heated and desperate, all tongue and teeth, both of you pouring out years of built up longing. Your hands roam feverishly across the broad expanse of Max’s back, committing every ridge and plane of muscle to memory.

Growing impatient, you begin tugging impatiently at Max’s belt buckle and zipper, making him break away with a breathy chuckle.

“Fuck, you’re eager tonight, aren’t you?”

“You’re one to talk,” you shoot back cheekily, finally popping open the button and shoving his jeans down over his narrow hips. “Pretty sure you proposed to me, like, thirty seconds after our first kiss.”

He sobers somewhat at that, eyes shining with sincerity as he holds your gaze. “I meant that. I really do want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your heart flutters wildly in your chest at his words, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. “Max ...”

He cuts you off by capturing your lips in another bruising kiss, effectively robbing you of coherent thought. When he rocks his hips again, you realize with a start that the last shred of his clothing has disappeared at some point during your heated exchange.

You break away with a shaky gasp, drinking in the sight of his fully naked form above you. Despite having seen him undressed countless times in a purely platonic context — in his driver’s rooms before races, passing showers when staying over at his apartment, that one incredibly awkward encounter in the Red Bull cold tub after the Singapore Grand Prix earlier this year — you’ve never truly taken the time to appreciate Max like this, to openly admire his body and all its lean lines and toned muscle definition.

“See something you like?” His teasing lilt snaps you out of your dazed reverie.

Cheeks flushing hotly, you lick your lips unconsciously before nodding slowly. “Very much so.”

His gravelly chuckle makes something low in your belly stir. “Then let’s get you out of these.”

Max tugs at the waistband of your leggings, helping to shimmy them down your legs and tossing them carelessly aside. You instinctively move to cover yourself with your arms, suddenly feeling very exposed. But Max just shakes his head slowly, emerald eyes raking over your body with naked reverence.

“Don’t,” he murmurs huskily, gently pulling your arms away. “You’re fucking stunning, every last inch of you.”

His worshipful tone makes you feel beautiful and powerful in a way you never have before. You keep your eyes locked on his, feeling utterly weightless as Max leans down to trail hot, open mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down the valley between your breasts. He takes his time exploring and tasting every inch of newly uncovered skin, relishing in the breathy whimpers and moans he draws from you freely.

But as his mouth moves lower, lavishing attention on the soft curves of your belly and hips, you begin to notice a subtle change. His movements are growing slower, more sluggish, those previously sharp nips and licks turning sloppier.

And when you tangle your fingers in his tousled hair to provide some gentle guidance, Max lets out a long, low grumble of contentment … followed swiftly by a rumbling snore.

You blink down at him in surprise, hardly able to believe it. This absolute idiot, this drunken oaf of a World Champion … has fallen straight to sleep on top of you, fully nude and still nestled between your parted thighs.

A burst of laughter bubbles up from your chest, loud and borderline hysterical. You shake your head slowly at the ridiculousness of it all, hardly caring that the moment has been completely ruined.

Because somehow, of course this would happen to you. Only Max could seduce you to within an inch of your life before passing out entirely mid-foreplay.

Typical.

Still, you can’t quite smother your fond smile as you gaze down at his slack, boyishly handsome features, completely relaxed in peaceful slumber. Even sloshed and wasted, he looks almost unbearably sweet like this — finally free of the perpetual weight of stress and pressure he usually carries on those strong shoulders.

“Oh Max ...” you murmur affectionately, smoothing back the tousled chestnut strands from his forehead. “Only you could make me go this disgustingly gooey, even when you’re being a drunken mess.”

With a rueful shake of your head, you began the arduous task of gently maneuvering Max to roll off of you and onto his back beside you on the bed. He lets out a disgruntled grumble at the movement, snuffling adorably into the pillows as you tug the comforter up over his naked form.

Once he seems as settled and comfortable as he’s likely to get, you study his slumbering features for another lingering moment. God, he really is beautiful, inside and out. And he’s all yours now, in a way you’ve only dreamed of for years.

Smiling to yourself, you scoot closer until you’re nestled against his side, head pillowed on his muscular chest. You revel in the feeling of Max’s strong arms instinctively wrapping around you, holding you close even in sleep.

With a contented sigh, you let your eyes drift closed, safe in the knowledge that you’ll be able to wake up like this tomorrow — and hopefully every day after that for the rest of your lives.

Just before slipping into peaceful dreams yourself, you can’t resist pressing one last featherlight kiss to the hollow of Max’s throat.

“I love you, my World Champion,” you whisper against his skin.

Max just smiles that brilliant sunny grin in his sleep, pulling you tighter against him. And really, that’s all the answer you’ll ever need.

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halohalona · 1 month

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🎀 A Little Redecorating

Logan wakes up to you rearranging the living room in the middle of the night

Logan Howlett x Reader

this is inspired by my impulsiveness (i don't know if that's the right word) to clean and rearrange my room at 11 at night until like 12:30 in the morning.

not beta read

masterlist

warnings/tags: fluff, reader possibly having adhd and making impulsive decisions, husband!logan, a little ooc logan, kinda domestic, probably a bit incoherent towards the end cause i decided to finish writing this at 2 in the morning

To be completely honest, you have no idea why you suddenly got the urge to rearrange and reorganize the living room. You were laying in bed when the idea popped up in your head, and couldn’t sleep since. So you quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to wake up your husband, and got to work.

You were moving the TV stand when your hip accidentally hit the edge of a side table causing the vase placed on top to fall.

CRASH

Logan immediately sat up the claws on his left hand unsheathing. Instincts kicking in, he looked over to your side of the bed to see if you were ok, only to see no one.

“Shit!” he heard someone speak before hearing a loud thud. In an instant he was out the door running straight to where the voice came from.

You were sweeping the remnants of the broken vase onto a dust pan when you heard Logan frantically shout your name. “Y/N!!”

“I’m okay!! I just knocked over a vase!”

When Logan finally reached you his body visibly relaxed. “Thank fuck, you’re okay. I thought you were getting taken.”

“I’m sorry.” you say sheepishly.

He looked around, the room was in disarray. The couch was no longer in its original place, instead it was blocking the path to the stairwell where Logan came from. The TV stand no longer against the wall he was facing but instead in the middle of the room. The TV itself was laying on one end of the couch while books and knickknacks were scattered on the other end. The rug was also rolled up and put against the wall.

“Love, why are you rearranging our furniture?” he asked, confused.

“I honestly don’t know. I suddenly got the idea while in bed and I couldn’t wait until morning.” you answered looking around, the corners of your lips turning down. “And now I can’t exactly go to bed while the living room looks like this…”

Placing his hands on his hips, he took another look around. “Well then, let’s get to work. Let’s finish this before sunrise,” he sighed before hopping over the couch. “You got an idea how you want the furniture placed? "A smile makes its way to your face before nodding excitedly.

It took you only an hour to get everything in place thanks to Logan doing most of the heavy lifting. After placing the last book on the shelf you let out a loud yawn starting to feel exhausted.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed” your husband said, carrying you up to your room.

Bonus:

That morning you sat at the dining table hard at work on something on your laptop.

Logan had to do a double take making sure he was seeing things correctly. "Is that our living room?”

“Yep”

“Did you seriously build our living room in—”

“The Sims? Yep. I actually built our house in the Sims.” you zoomed the camera out to show the entire first floor of the build before shrugging. “It makes redecorating easier.”

a/n: the bonus was really just an excuse to add the small detail that the reader uses the sims as reference for decorating the house lol

word count: 511

#logan howlett x reader #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool & wolverine #logan x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #xmen #marvel #mari cliffgate's writing

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pin-k-ink · 1 month

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LONGING ⋆✦⋆ akaashi keiji

synopsis ➸ years of keeping his crush under wraps, and one high school reunion is all it takes for his secret to come out

tags ➸ friends to lovers, mutual pining, teeny tiny bit of angst if you squint hard enough, dry humping, a fuckton of sexual tension, making out, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, dirty talking, slight asphyxiation

wc ➸ 6.3k

The buzz of your doorbell jolted you from fussing with your hair in front of the mirror. You glanced at the clock and felt a grin tug at your lips - of course Keiji would be precisely on time.

Giving yourself one last satisfied once-over, you hurried to let your best friend in before he could start overthinking that you'd somehow gotten cold feet about attending Fukurodani's reunion together.

As expected, Keiji stood in the hallway looking every bit the suave professional he'd become since graduating - tailored slacks, crisp button-down, and sleek glasses framing those intense eyes that had always captured your attention so thoroughly.

"There you are," he greeted, the barest hint of relief flickering across his handsome features as you gestured him inside quickly. "I was beginning to think you got so caught up with getting gorgeous for the reunion that you'd forgotten all about me entirely."

You snorted as he brushed past you into the apartment, purposefully bumping his shoulder in playful reprimand. "As if I could ever forget my favorite human reminder to be on time for once in my life, Keiji."

He arched one dark brow over the rims of his glasses in that undeniably attractive way you'd always envied. "I seem to recall having to put that skill to use on hundreds of occasions during my years as your saintly upperclassman, [Y/N]."

"Yeah, yeah - keep reminding me why I put up with your nagging all these years," you shot back with a wink, hoping to distract from the way your pulse had already kicked up at his proximity.

Though the casual back-and-forth came easily, you couldn't quite tamp down the rising flutters erupting in your belly lately whenever you found yourself in Keiji's immediate orbit. An ember of long-simmering attraction had steadily been stoked higher over the last few months until immolating pretty much every rational thought and good intention you had whenever he was near.

Not that you'd ever dream of jeopardizing the profound friendship you'd somehow managed to maintain with Akaashi over the years since high school. No, you were an expert at strangling those sorts of misplaced feelings down into submission by now - filing them neatly into the box labeled "pining hopelessly for your gorgeous and completely oblivious best friend."

"Hey, I thought you mentioned needing some help with getting all dolled up properly for tonight's reminiscing," Keiji prompted in a tone you knew all too well. "I'd hate to keep the old coach waiting on my account after you put in such...diligent effort."

You swallowed hard at the sudden weight in his molten regard, feeling heat bloom across your cheeks before you could look away. When Akaashi was in one of his rare teasing moods, those beautiful eyes would blaze with wicked intent that never failed to rob you of rationality entirely.

"R-Right, um...yeah." Unable to meet his heavy-lidded stare for too long, you whirled towards your open bedroom door to grant Keiji an unobstructed view of your entire form. "Thought you could help me get into this stupid dress for real this time? I swear the zipper was made for octopus tentacles or something..."

Without waiting for his confirmation, you padded towards the center of the room before reaching up to loosen the soft terrycloth robe you'd been lounging in while primping. With your back deliberately angled towards Akaashi, you allowed the plush fabric to slither off one bare shoulder teasingly before pooling in a puddle around your bare feet.

Knowing Keiji's gaze was suddenly riveted to your ass - all plump flesh and defined feminine curves left clad in lace - made the muscles of your abdomen tighten further with nervous anticipation. For one endless, delirious beat, you made no move to cover up or retrieve your slinky evening dress from where it lay draped invitingly over the foot of your bed.

Only when you heard the slightest, nearly inaudible intake of breath from behind did you finally turn to face Akaashi with deliberately unhurried movements. His jaw had gone slack slightly, those stunning mercury eyes blown wide at the vision of your unclothed figure before him.

"So...zipper?" you managed to husk out, tilting your chin up in silent challenge.

Keiji's throat bobbed sharply, a muscle in his forearm flexing beneath the crisp fabric of his shirt as he drank you in with naked hunger now radiating off him in waves. Rather than answer you directly, he simply closed the distance between your bodies in a few prowling strides - all leonine grace and banked masculine intensity in that familiar way that punched the air from your lungs.

When Akaashi reached for the sleek material of your dress at last, it was with a tenderness that bordered on reverence entirely at odds with his penetrating stare. He smoothed his palms over the sumptuous fabric with whisper-light caresses before grasping the hem and lifting it over your hips in one slow, luxurious glide until you were engulfed entirely.

As the plunging neckline settled into place, cradling your breasts in an alluring swell of cleavage, you watched a muscle leap in Keiji's tensed jaw. His heavy-lidded regard scorched every newly revealed inch of skin with naked adoration - pupils blown so wide, they swallowed up almost all the silvery irises.

You bit back a whimpering keen as his elegant fingers drifted up your sides, callused whorls skating over hypersensitive nerves until goosebumps erupted in their wake. Then those big, warm palms found the dip of your waist, thumbs kneading into the supple curves of your hips with audible greed.

Only when Akaashi reached the small zipper nestled right above the curve of your backside did he finally break the smoldering silence in a rough, desire-thickened baritone:

"Breathe out for me, beautiful..."

The endearment hit your senses like a battering ram of pure sin - turning your knees to liquid and making your belly swoop with sheer, visceral need. But you obeyed Keiji's gruff command without hesitation, releasing your captured breath in a shuddering exhale.

As your curves softened and yielded, he seized the zipper's pull in those deft fingers and dragged with agonizing leisure. The rasping glide only heightened the delicious friction of fabric sliding snugly into every lush hollow and dip from the base of your spine all the way up to your nape's fragile notch.

Once the zipper teeth finally merged into completion beneath Akaashi's shuddering exhale of masculine approval, his palms clamped down over your shoulder blades in another possessive span. He used that commanding hold to tug you back against the rigid planes of his sculpted chest - every inch of your yielding softness compressed against his relentless, grounding bulk.

"Always so diligent about being on time, aren't you?" Keiji growled out against your nape in that rough rasp that made you shake. "But I still seem to recall the trouble you had following instructions properly..."

His callused fingertips blazed a searing path upwards, sweeping away the tousled tresses at the base of your skull to reveal the vulnerable nape fully. Then hot velvet glided over the sensitized flesh there - Keiji's sinful mouth alternating delicious suction with addictive nips until you arched back against him with a strangled whimper.

"So tonight, I think I'll enjoy being extra thorough about ensuring my good girl receives some...firmer correction in that area, hmm?" he husked out in a voice gone smoky and decadent with promised rapture.

The next glide of his velvet tongue over your thundering pulse punched the air from your lungs entirely. You could only whimper and shudder back against Akaashi's broad chest helplessly as he growled in approval - teeth raking over your sensitized flesh in stinging reprimand before soothing with reverent swipes of his scorching mouth once more.

"K-Keiji..." you stammered out breathlessly, nails raking over his forearms in silent pleading. "We're going to be...ohhhh..."

Whatever feeble protest you'd tried to voice fractured into a broken moan as Akaashi hauled you flush against his body again, hips rolling forward to grind his semi-erect cock between the yielding curves of your ass. Rational thought scattered like ashes as he caged you in the furnace of his embrace completely - all searing heat and covetous possession.

For several heartbeats that seemed to stretch into delirious eternity, you simply surrendered yourself over to the frantic glide of his palms mapping every lush hollow and flare of your quivering figure. Each rasping inhale against the sensitive whorls of your ear brought you crashing higher towards blissful oblivion as Keiji claimed every quaking inch without mercy.

Then, just as abruptly as his onslaught had begun, Akaashi withdrew enough to allow you both to draw trembling gulps of oxygen into your scorched lungs anew. The absence of his grounding bulk against your back made you keen in silent protest, swaying unsteadily despite the steadying bands of his forearms anchored across your lower abdomen in a possessive span.

"Steady, beautiful..." he rumbled out in that velvet purr gone molten and rough around the edges like caskstrength whiskey. "Can't go having my pretty girl feeling too wrecked before we even make it to celebrating with the others properly now, can we?"

You whimpered at his dark chuckle vibrating through your hypersensitized nerves anew like rapturous scripture. Keiji tilted your chin back with purposeful tenderness until your glazed eyes could drink in the undisguised adoration blazing in his quicksilver regard at last.

"Don't worry...we'll have all the time we need for me to give you the proper attention you deserve later tonight," he vowed fervently against your parted lips, that same banked promise to stoke your deepest longings to smoldering resonance. "But for now...I intend to ensure we're both right on time for once."

With a final lingering sip of your gasping exhales, Akaashi tore himself away before your needy whimpers could undo him completely. You already missed his solid tether against your trembling frame as he stalked towards the bedroom door purposefully.

Unable to offer more than a breathless nod, you trailed after his powerful figure, senses still swimming in delicious vertigo. At the threshold, Keiji paused to rake one last smoldering look over your mussed, heaving form that robbed you of breath anew for entirely different reasons now.

Then he curved one palm over the exposed column of your throat, exerting the faintest but utterly thrilling pressure against your thundering pulse point briefly.

"Behave yourself out there, sweet girl." The silken purr rumbled straight through your most secret depths with merciless possession. "Or I can't make any promises about the consequences."

With that husked benediction and one final wicked smirk, Akaashi swept from the room entirely - leaving you swaying and utterly transfixed in the wake of his gravitational pull even now. You spent several eternal seconds drinking in the heady remnants of his cologne and virile presence before finally gathering your scattered wits enough to follow dutifully.

As you fell into step beside him on the short trek towards the gymnasium where the reunion was being held, Keiji maintained his usual casual elegance and unhurried cadence. While you steadily felt the blushing inferno of desire simmering higher between your tangled forms with each measured stride shared - awakened and beckoned towards the rapturous dawn now finally glimmering on the horizon for you both.

By the time Akaashi ushered you inside to the familiar, sweeping arena where so many unforgettable memories had first been made, you could feel the weight of his searing stare prickling over your nerve endings in delicious warning. The charged promise of new indulgences and corrections soon to replace whatever faded imprints of nostalgia this night initially promised now seared into the very fiber of your quivering senses instead.

Before you could even begin acclimating to the buzzing energy of friends and long-unseen faces surrounding you both, a familiar loud voice bellowed your name across the noisy room. Your stomach dropped as a blur of spiky silver hair and solid muscle came barreling directly for your rigid position.

Then, without warning, Bokuto seized you up in his arms in a crushingly tight embrace that lifted you clean off the floor - spinning you both around recklessly before planting a sloppy, exuberant kiss to your cheek.

"Kou, get off her already!" someone scolded through peals of raucous laughter you recognized instantly.

Not even Bokuto's overzealous affection could fully distract you from the heated promise radiating off Keiji's elegant frame, however. Over the cacophony of greetings and riotous jeers, you met his hooded, burning gaze across the crowd of old teammates already swarming to pull the rowdy ace off you once more.

Akaashi remained utterly motionless, poised like some indolent yet ravenous panther drinking in the maddening scene of his most coveted prize being so thoroughly disheveled and discomposed by another's hands. Those striking mercurial eyes drifted over your mussed form hungrily - silently assuring you that no audience or mitigating circumstances would prevent him from prying you back beneath his sole dominion and possession once granted any sliver of opportunity again soon...

The rest of the night devolved into a joyous blur of warm reunions and fond recollections after that. You allowed yourself to be swept up in the infectious energy, bouncing effortlessly between your other senpais and former fellow managers while basking in Akaashi's patient presence always lingering nearby.

At some point, the reminiscing led to a boisterous drinking game where various members of the old team were challenged to see who could recall the most embarrassingly scandalous stories from your shared glory days as Fukurodani's underrated secret weapons behind the scenes.

As more and more playful jabs and teasing anecdotes surfaced, you found yourself flush with nostalgic glee - trading wide grins with Keiji over the festivities despite everything left so deliriously unresolved still simmering between you both.

Until, at the apex of one particularly rowdy set of jeers led by Konoha and Komi, someone blurted out the hushed truth that had been skirted around all night so far in perfect blithe innocence:

"Oh come on, as if any of us could forget how hopelessly gone Akaashi was over our precious little manager back in the day!"

An brief hush descended over the raucous scene punctuated by several muffled giggles and sidelong looks directed straight at your dumbfounded expression. Keiji, seated ramrod straight beside you, stiffened almost imperceptibly - spine going rigid as his jaw tensed around whatever measured response no doubt brimming behind those inscrutable features.

Konoha, seemingly oblivious to the charged tension suddenly permeating those nearest you both, doubled over into another peal of riotous laughter as your eyes went wide.

"Yeah right, like anyone missed the real story behind all that vicious guy-liner and constant hovering Akaashi was slinging towards you each game all year!" He cackled hoarsely, wiping at the tears streaming down his cheeks. "My man here was crazy about our girl from day one, we all saw it..."

The former wing spiker reached over and flicked Keiji's shoulder bracingly, still cackling away as if utterly unaware of the bone-deep unraveling now gripping your senses tighter with every oblivious word flung out. As the others around you both rapidly followed suit - jeering and hurling more confirming anecdotes from their firsthand witness perspective into the echoing silence, you felt your lungs steadily constricting in rising panic.

All this time...through the countless memories replaying in high definition and nostalgia alike...Akaashi had carried the weight of this revelation with him the entire time? Your thundering thoughts scattered in a million dizzying directions as you turned to finally meet his profile in frantic hope of...what, exactly?

But before your questioning gaze could connect with his own, Keiji inhaled one low, shuddering breath. Then he rose from his seat with the same leonine grace you'd always admired and revered beyond measure so many years perviously. The curt clearing of his throat cut through the ruckus as efficiently as any blade while also signalling you to remain seated this time instinctively.

As all gazes swiveled towards his towering silhouette abruptly, Akaashi simply smoothed out the crisp lines of his shirt and pants with careful, unhurried motions. Then he directed that weighted, unreadable stare down at your widened expression - full lips quirking faintly upwards in something resembling rueful wryness you'd so rarely witnessed adorning his features before tonight.

"I trust this concludes the roasting portion of our scheduled nostalgia then, wouldn't you all agree?" He intoned in that rich, unhurried baritone that never failed to make your pulse thunder.

Despite the weight behind his words, Keiji simply arched one brow and waved a dismissive hand as the sheepish laughter died down around you.

"Seriously though, we're long overdue to be heading out," he told the group easily. "I've got an early call time at the office tomorrow and all."

You blinked, shooting him a confused look that Akaashi pointedly ignored in favor of rising smoothly to his feet. Only when he turned his piercing stare your way did you hurry to follow suit instinctively.

"Grab your things, beautiful. No need to stick around and get the full nostalgia roast treatment on my account," he murmured, dipping his chin in a subtle beckoning gesture no one else would've noticed.

Heat lanced straight through your core at his husked endearment and suggestive tone - worlds apart from the casual nonchalance he presented mere moments ago. You swallowed hard against the renewed longing already coiling low in your belly, bobbing your head as you scrambled to gather your purse with hands that definitely didn't tremble whatsoever.

The sly, knowing look Akaashi shot you as you drew flush against his side made it abundantly clear he enjoyed flustering you like this far too much to behave himself properly. As chuckles and farewells echoed around you, Keiji steered you along with one large palm curving over the small of your back possessively.

"Good seeing you boys again," he tossed over his shoulder, somehow managing to sound nonchalant as ever. "We'll have to do this without the nostalgia next time, hm?"

You ducked your head to hide the fierce blush you could already feel heating your cheeks, practically stumbling along under Akaashi's casual guidance. A few rowdy hollers from the rapidly vanishing group drifted after you, laced with teasing insinuation you didn't even try puzzling out under his molten stare.

The trek towards your humble apartment passed in thick silence, every inhale filling your lungs with the rich, spicy scent of Keiji's cologne. Each brush of his unhurried footfalls against yours made the heated tension simmering between your forms amplify tenfold - bristling awareness dancing along your sensitized nerves in delirious promise.

You were so absorbed in monitoring the steadily mounting tension radiating off Akaashi, you startled slightly when you arrived at your front door without realizing it. Brows furrowing, you turned to bid him the usual polite thanks, only for the words to shrivel entirely under the sheer intensity of his pewter stare at such proximity.

Rather than offer any cursory dismissal, Keiji leveled you with a look of naked yearning that felt like having all the air sucked from your lungs in the most dizzying way. He took a measured step closer, boxing you in against the cool wood with the solid brand of his chest - stoking the mounting inferno already pulsing behind your bellybutton higher.

"You gonna invite me inside tonight, pretty?" Akaashi husked out in a voice gone low and rough with undisguised masculine intent. "Or will I finally get to experience what it's like having you turn me away after all these years?"

The blatant, ravenous implication drenching each rumbling syllable made your knees go weak. You remembered Keiji's own admission about harboring long-simmering feelings you'd somehow managed to overlook - the thought that you might have inadvertently rejected his quiet hopes so many times before tonight.

"Keiji, I...I didn't realize..." you stammered out through the rapidly spiraling haze of arousal clouding your thoughts. "That you felt that way back then too..."

Rather than respond, Keiji smoothed his palm along your jaw and tipped your chin up in silent demand. Heat poured into your cheeks anew at his scorching regard sweeping down the vulnerable column of your throat purposefully.

"No need for apologies," he murmured in a thread of gravelly velvet that made you shudder. "You're making up for any lingering regrets of mine in spades tonight, aren't you, pretty girl?"

You whimpered helplessly at the dark promise laced through his rasping benediction, every nerve ending hyper-focused on the molten glide of his touch meandering lower to palm your breast through the thin fabric covering you. Keiji hummed his deep approval as your nipple pebbled responsively beneath his calloused fingertips, hips rocking forward in a slow grind.

"In fact," he rumbled out, pressing you harder against the door as arousal thundered through your joined forms alike. "I can't wait to finally get my hands on unwrapping you properly...the way I should've been the only one to experience back when you were all dolled up in high school too."

Your breath hitched sharply at those rough-edged words, swaying closer into Akaashi's scorching orbit instinctively despite the steel barrier at your back. Any last lingering inhibitions dissolved completely as his full lips ghosted over the thundering pulse at your throat in exquisite prelude.

"So what's it gonna be?" Keiji growled out in a low rasp gone absolutely molten with naked promise. "You gonna let me prove how goddamn crazy I've always been for you, sweetheart? Or am I just gonna have to keep holding myself back from doing all the filthy things I've spent years fantasizing about now?"

Unable to do anything more than shake your head in a jerky negative, you tilted your neck in blatant offering instead. Akaashi snarled his deep approval, crashing his mouth over yours in a searing, demanding glide that robbed what little breath remained in your lungs.

Before you could wind your arms around him properly, Keiji angled you away from the door just far enough to delve his clever fingers beneath the hem of your skirt - palming the lush curves of your ass in a possessive brand as he hoisted your pliant form up against his powerful chest.

"I'm gonna take such good care of you, pretty," he growled in reassurance as you wound your trembling limbs around his sturdy frame instinctively. "Make up for any lingering regret or uncertainty on your part, hm? You're not going to doubt the way I feel about you ever again once I'm through with you...promise."

With one last searing kiss punctuated by his molten growl of possession, Akaashi twisted the front door's handle and strode inside with you anchored in his arms fully. You swallowed hard at the blazing promise etched across his ruggedly handsome features in the low lamp light, heart galloping wildly as something profound threatened to catch fire beneath your thundering ribs.

But the words you wanted to say so desperately to Keiji couldn't break free as he wasted no time in marching you straight towards your bedroom without a single fumble or misstep. As if he'd already scoped out the layout and memorized every detail in advance.

As if he'd already been planning this exact scenario for ages and knew exactly what to expect in his most fevered dreams and wildest fantasies alike.

The knowledge made you shiver as Akaashi set you down atop the rumpled bedsheets you'd barely bothered to straighten earlier, peeling the tight confines of his button-down away with deft movements that sent your pulse skittering faster. You reached for him eagerly, only for Keiji to pin your wrists down against the sheets with a soft chuckle.

"Easy, sweetheart," he chided in a velvet rasp that made you whine softly. "I've been waiting a very long time to finally get my hands on you, remember? There's no rush here..."

He smirked knowingly at the protesting noise that fell from your parted lips, trailing his palms up your flanks languidly to trace the dip of your cleavage. When Keiji tugged the thin straps of your dress aside to bare the flushed mounds of your breasts in a single smooth motion, he hummed his appreciation at the sight.

"I want to enjoy every second of you spread out for me so prettily," Akaashi admitted on a low, rumbling murmur before he grabbed the fat of your hips and flipped you over with deceptive ease. "Let's get rid of all this, shall we? It’s only fair since I was the one who helped you put it on."

Before you could process the shift, Keiji's warm touch slid along the curve of your spine - gathering up the zipper at your lower back and dragging it down excruciatingly slowly. You bit back a moan as the dress pooled around your waist in a shimmering cascade, leaving you bared to his burning gaze once more.

Only this time, the sensation of being utterly at Akaashi's mercy was infinitely more overwhelming than before. You were still reeling from the sudden shift in your reality, trying to grapple with the knowledge that your oldest friend had been harboring these feelings towards you for just as long as you'd done the same towards him.

And yet, you were also keenly aware that the only thing stopping Keiji from devouring you whole and claiming you fully was the last vestiges of his ironclad control. That he was currently restraining himself despite his obvious yearning, waiting for you to voice some sign of hesitation or resistance that would shatter the fragile thread of restraint keeping him from snapping completely.

It made you shiver to think about the untold possibilities awaiting you if you were bold enough to push him past the brink. How far he would go to make you his, to prove his devotion and claim you in a way no other man would ever be able to surpass.

As Akaashi's fingertips brushed against the swell of your ass, the molten realization sank deeper that he was the only one you wanted to push like this. The only person who could break you apart and remake you in the blistering heat of his consuming embrace, over and over again.

"Keiji," you gasped out his name, arching your back in silent supplication as his large hands gripped the fabric pooling around your hips and tugged the garment away entirely. "Please..."

Rather than the teasing rebuke you were expecting, Keiji's breath hitched at the sound of his name tumbling from your lips so desperately. He smoothed his palm down the graceful line of your spine, tracing the dip at the base before trailing along the curve of your ass in a deliberate caress.

"Mmm, I can't get enough of hearing you say my name like that, pretty," he rasped, his thumb sliding against your slick folds and rubbing a torturous circle around the swollen bud of your clit. "You have no idea how hard it was holding back all night...just watching you from the sidelines and not being able to do a damn thing about it."

His other hand curled around the plump mound of your ass, squeezing and massaging the flesh possessively as he sank his fingers into the dripping heat of your pussy with a pleased groan. You jolted as the thick digits pressed deeper, arching your hips back to encourage the delicious pressure.

"But that's just it, isn't it?" Akaashi murmured, leaning over your prone form to press his weight against you - surrounding and trapping you in the best way. "I was the one waiting, while you had no idea what was happening all this time...what a shame, really."

Before you could protest, the hand kneading your ass drifted upwards - gripping the nape of your neck in a firm squeeze, forcing your cheek down against the mattress as you trembled and mewled beneath his punishing grip.

"You could've had me all this time, sweetheart," he growled in your ear, curling his fingers inside your aching core and rubbing against the spongy bundle of nerves he knew would unravel you at the seams. "Had me wrapped around your little finger from day one, didn’t you? All you had to do was ask, pretty. Say the word and I would've fallen to my knees right there and then, just to worship your sweet pussy like the fucking goddess you are."

Your eyes fluttered closed as pleasure coiled tight and molten behind your bellybutton, the friction of Akaashi's skilled touch driving you steadily towards the precipice. Keiji's hot, ragged breaths spilled over your fevered skin as his thumb teased mercilessly at your clit in a way that left you shuddering and panting.

"Fuck," he grunted out, grinding the hard outline of his cock against your thigh as your inner walls clenched around him hungrily. "How many times do you think I jerked off to the thought of this, huh? Wanted nothing more than to fuck you right up against the lockers back in high school...fuck, I almost gave in once."

The admission sent a thrill through your bloodstream, heat flushing higher as your thighs trembled at the sudden onslaught of his rumbled admissions. The thought of him bending you over the cool metal and taking you from behind while the entire team changed around you - the knowledge that he was the only one allowed to do that now - had you moaning shamelessly into the mattress.

Akaashi's deep chuckle reverberated through his chest, pressing harder against your neck as the rhythm of his fingers increased to something borderline punishing. His voice dropped lower, rougher with unmistakable lust that made your nipples tighten even more against the sheets.

"But that was just the beginning, pretty," he husked out, curling his thick digits deeper into the molten heat of your pussy and making you cry out. "You have no idea how often I dreamed about this, how fucking good you'd look stretched around my cock...and now I'm finally gonna get to see for myself."

Your breath hitched, a strangled whine tumbling from your lips as his skilled fingers drove you closer and closer to the edge. But Akaashi knew your body too well by now, and his touch vanished abruptly before you could reach your peak.

The sound of his zipper coming undone and the rustle of his slacks being discarded filled the hazy space between your forms. Before you could so much as twitch, Keiji was rolling his hips forward and dragging the head of his cock against your drenched pussy.

"F-Fuck, I can't wait anymore," he groaned, notching himself between your folds and grinding his rigid length against your dripping entrance. "Need to feel you, sweetheart. Need to see how well you take my cock like the good girl I know you are."

"Yes," you cried out, rocking back into his scorching embrace with a desperate moan. "P-Please, Keiji...I-I need you too. I want to feel you, please."

The guttural noise that tore from Akaashi's throat at your pleading tone made your pulse race, the hand anchoring your neck in place drifting lower to smooth along your back. You were vaguely aware of his other hand reaching between your joined forms, and the slick, obscene sound of him slicking his length with the abundant moisture trickling from your core.

"Good girl," he purred, notching the fat crown of his cock against your dripping folds and sinking the first few inches into your molten core with a satisfied groan. "Hah, shit...fuck, y-you feel so fucking good, pretty."

You could barely string together a coherent thought, let alone a response, as he rocked deeper and deeper into your quivering pussy with every measured thrust. Each time Keiji hilted himself fully inside you, his thick cock stretched and strained the walls of your pussy in a way that made sparks of heat flare behind your tightly-shut eyelids.

"Look at you," he gritted out, fingers digging into your hips and tugging your ass higher into the air. "F-Fuck, taking my cock like a goddamn champ, aren't you?"

You whimpered and writhed beneath him, but his strong grip held you in place. The angle left you utterly defenseless as Akaashi bottomed out and started fucking into you with deep, languid strokes - each one punctuated with a filthy, wet slap that made the pressure mounting inside your core even more unbearable.

"Ngh, K-Keiji..." you moaned, clutching the bedsheets desperately and biting back another cry as he leaned over your pliant form to curl a hand around your jaw. "S-So good, fuck...please."

His low chuckle reverberated through his sturdy form, the rhythmic drag of his cock driving deeper as he panted hotly against the curve of your ear. You gasped, shuddering as his free hand wound around the delicate column of your throat in a light squeeze, his other hand braced on the mattress.

"Please what, pretty?" he husked out, a ragged grunt tearing free as his thrusts quickened in intensity. "Tell me what you want, hm? You gotta use your words."

"H-Harder, Keiji," you stammered, arching your back and meeting his powerful movements as best you could. "F-Fuck, please, I-I need..."

His fingers tightened around your throat, just enough to force you to gasp out your next breath. It was the only warning you had before Akaashi drew back and slammed into you with such force that the entire bedframe shuddered and rocked.

"Like this, pretty girl?" he growled out, the punishing tempo of his thrusts sending you teetering dangerously close to the edge. "That what you wanted? Fuck, you're taking me so well, baby...shit."

All you could manage in response was a desperate cry, nails digging into the sheets as you clung to them for dear life. Pleasure coiled tight and hot behind your navel, winding tighter and tighter as he drove his cock into you at a brutal pace that left you unable to catch your breath.

Keiji grunted and snarled, his rhythm growing unsteady as he chased the same release building within your own body. The hand braced on the mattress disappeared momentarily before snaking around your front, and when Akaashi's clever fingers found your swollen clit and rubbed the slick nub in frantic circles, it was all over.

"K-Keiji!" you cried out his name, thighs trembling as an orgasm crashed over your frame. You could barely catch your breath as you quivered and writhed, an obscene amount of hot liquid gushing out from where you were joined and spilling onto the sheets below.

"Fuck," Akaashi's breath hitched, the hand around your throat disappearing in favor of both palms grabbing hold of your hips. He yanked your pliant form back, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release as his own cock throbbed inside the molten depths of your pussy.

"Gonna come," he snarled out, his ragged pants filling the room. "S-sweetheart, can't hold on any longer, fuck...gotta pull out, okay?"

You shook your head furiously, too overcome to articulate anything more than a single syllable as you clenched down hard around him.

"Inside," you sobbed, gasping and shuddering as he snapped his hips against yours roughly. "P-please, Keiji...I need to f-feel it."

Keiji groaned, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of your hips in an iron grip. Your name was torn from his lips on a hoarse shout, his pace turning wild and erratic before he buried his cock as deep as it would go inside you and pulsed hard.

His cum painted the walls of your pussy in thick, molten spurts that had you moaning his name and grinding back into him. The sensation was enough to send you tumbling over the edge again, and you whimpered as you felt another gush of hot liquid spill out from around the thick length of his cock.

Akaashi panted harshly, the last of his cum spilling into your quivering form as he ground his hips against yours. The movement made you shudder and clench around him again, your oversensitive body unable to keep up with the flood of intense sensations overwhelming you.

He hissed softly, his grip on your waist slackening and easing you down to the mattress as the two of you caught your breath. Once he'd slid out of your dripping pussy, Akaashi collapsed beside you - his arms winding around your waist and tugging you firmly against his chest.

You melted into the comforting embrace, tucking your face into his neck and sighing contently as he smoothed a hand down your back. Keiji tilted your chin upwards, claiming your mouth in a tender kiss that made you melt even more.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" he murmured, pulling away just enough to meet your gaze. "Not too rough, I hope?"

You couldn't help but smile at the concern in his expression, shaking your head.

"I'm perfect, Keiji," you assured him, smoothing your palms along the broad expanse of his chest and leaning in to brush your lips against his again. "Better than perfect, really."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his sturdy form. The arm curled around your waist squeezed lightly, a hand tangling in your hair and pulling you into a deep, toe-curling kiss. When the two of you finally parted, Akaashi's expression was tinged with something far warmer than his usual aloof expression.

"Good, because I intend to keep you right here all week," he told you, the promise making your heart flutter wildly. "It's only fair, considering how long I've waited."

You could tell by the glimmer in his eyes that there would be no arguing with him, and if you were honest - the prospect didn't exactly displease you.

"Fine by me," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth and giggling as he tugged you closer. "You know, I can't help but think of how much more fun we could've been having if you'd just told me how you felt earlier."

"Oh, believe me, sweetheart," Akaashi drawled, the low timbre of his voice making you shiver. "By the time the week's over, you won't be thinking about anything but me."

#not proofread #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #akaashi x reader smut #akaashi keiji x reader smut #akaashi smut #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji smut #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi keiji #keiji smut #keiji x reader #keiji x reader smut

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frudoo · 2 months

Note

I need the 141 as a group of slashers. Their shared wife gets harassed at the store and tells them when she gets home?

Might send more asks for slasher 141 if that's okay

You can ALWAYS send me slasher!141 ideas are you joking?!

Warnings: Mentions of sexual harassment (NOT by the 141), typical mentions of weapons and violence. Fem!Reader.

It’s pouring down freezing rain, the cold seemingly nudging past your skin and settling itself into your bones. Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys, letting out a defeated wail when you miss the lock for the fifth fucking time. Throwing your keys in your purse, you settle for knocking, then calling out that it’s just you. You’d rather not have one of your lovers answering the door with a machete to your throat. They always have had a flair for the dramatic.

It’s John who answers the door. Immediately he takes in your shivering figure and his bushy eyebrows furrow with concern. Scanning the vast land of the farm and finding nothing that could be perceived as a threat, he gently takes the purse from your hands. Strong arms hustle you inside and he kicks the door shut, working quickly to get you out of your sopping wet clothes.

“Darlin’, what happened? Why’re you cryin’?” John asks softly, hanging your coat on the rack—he can tell it’s bad by the way you flinch just from the question.

Simon, Johnny, and Kyle trail into the living room to greet you, but when they see your state, it’s like you can feel the tension in the air, ready to snap like a weathered rubber band. Simon comes to scoop you up, uncaring of the drenched clothes you still have on, and carries you up the stairs. He jerks his head to signal that everyone else should follow him.

While Kyle runs you a bath, John finishes undressing you, tossing your clothing into the hamper with a wet plop. You’re still shivering, tears streaming down your chilly cheeks, and it breaks their hearts. John cups your face in his big, warm hands, crystal blue eyes scanning for injuries or any reason you might be so spooked.

“You gonna answer my question, sweetheart? What’s happened?”

His voice is soothing, and you lean into the comfort of his touch. He always has been the best at calming you down, rich gravel filling your ears until you remember how cherished you are in his eyes. In all of their eyes.

“T-there was a man,” you stutter, head whipping around violently with your fist raised when Johnny wraps an arm around your waist to help you into the bath. “No!”

“Hey, hey, jus’ me, hen,” Johnny’s eyes widen as he throws his hands up in surrender, backing away to avoid getting hit.

“I’m sorry,” you weep, covering your face with your trembling hands as Johnny tries again, this time successful in getting you settled into the warm water.

“Wha’ did he do?” Simon’s raspy voice sounds from the corner of the room, eerily calm. “Wha’ did tha’ fucker do?”

“The man… I-I was at the store to get groceries, but there was- he… he grabbed my ass and my tits and f-followed me out to the car. I drove away really fast so he couldn’t come after me, but… I’m sorry, I didn’t get the groceries.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Kyle frowns, gently reaching out to grab a hold of one of your hands. “The fuckin’ groceries are the least of our concerns.”

You nod noncommittally, sniffling and just barely squeezing Kyle’s hand to let him know you appreciate the gesture. John’s jaw is clenched tight, and you can practically hear the rage brewing in his brain. Such a sweet thing traumatized by some stupid fuck who wanted his hands full of their soft, perfect girl. He wants—needs—to make him pay. John turns on his heel and just about rushes through the door, but your gentle voice stops him in his tracks.

“John? Please stay,” you beg so, so prettily, pouty lips still swollen from how hard you’d been crying, and John’s far too weak a man to deny you.

Hesitantly, the captain trails back inside the bathroom, giving the other three a curt nod. They understand instantly, and Simon is cracking his knuckles so loud you’re almost sure the city can hear it.

“Bring the bastard back alive,” John commands, and faster than you can blink, Kyle, Simon, and Johnny are out the door.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, eyes focused on the ripple of the bathwater when you submerge your hands.

John shakes his head, tilting your chin up so that you look him in the eye. He leans forward and nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours, a silent question. When you nod he leans in to kiss you long and slow, pressing his forehead against yours as the two of you stop to catch a breath.

“No need to be sorry, sweet girl. You’ll get a turn on him soon enough.”

#AHHHHHH slashers and tf141 my beloveds #ask me!#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #141 x reader #slasher!141 #cod x reader

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hotchscoffeecup · 2 months

Text

stuck

summary: stuck inside an elevator with your boss, aaron hotchner, isn’t what you had in mind when you left work late. perhaps, you can get your supervisor to relax just a little. SFW

tags: minor blood, stuck inside an elevator

pairing: hotch x reader

word count: 3k

a late birthday fic for muffin <3

“Alright, goodnight Hotch. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”

“Hotch, it’s late. I’m tired. It’s hotter than hell outside. Trust me, when I tell you that all I need is some late night takeout, a shower, and eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.” You let out a short laugh. “I’ll be fine.”

He nods in farewell; offering a tired, albeit, tight smile before parting ways and moving toward his SUV a few spots down from your sedan. It had been a long day, and an even longer evening. The rest of the team had gone home hours ago, but Hotch had volunteered to stay behind and help you on your case report. Your skin bristles at the thought of the last 72 hours and you feel the tension pulling each one of your muscles as you reach into your purse and feel for your keys. After a few seconds of rifling around, your brow knits together when you don’t come across the key fob.

Releasing an exasperated sigh, your shoulders slump. “Dammit.”

“Everything okay?” Hotch asks, pausing after opening his car door.

You incline your head and wave a hand through the air. “Yeah, I just left my keys on my desk.”

A car door slams and the sound of Hotch’s footsteps echo as he moves towards you. “I’ll walk with you.”

You blow out a breath and wave him off. “No, go home. It’s just going to be a few extra minutes. Go see Jack.”

“He’s with his aunt until tomorrow evening, then hopefully I’ll get to spend the entire weekend with him before duty calls.” He gestures towards the elevator. “It’s no trouble, really,” he insists.

You can’t help but feel like a nuisance, but you don’t argue any further. A humid breeze blows through the parking garage and thunder rumbles off in the distance. Hotch presses the button to summon the elevator and as the gears rumble to life both of your cells start pinging.

Hotch reaches into his pants pocket as you reach into your purse. You both check your cells where a severe thunderstorm warning flashes across the screen.

“Hotch, really, you can go.”

Hotch arches a brow, sparing you a look that says not-a-chance as the doors open. “Come on, if the weather kicks up before we get back down, I’ll drive you home.”

He stretches an arm out to hold the door and you reluctantly step inside, accepting that he’s not going to leave.

You push the button for the ninth floor and cross your arms over your chest. “My car can handle a little rain, Hotch.”

He blows out a breath and shakes his head. “With the weather they’re calling for, your car will become a boat.”

“Careful, Hotch. That was almost a joke.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t reply.

The elevator pings as you ascend higher and higher. By the time the elevator crawls past floor four the sound of rain pounding against the building echoes inside the elevator.

“Damn,” you curse quietly. “I can only imagine what 95 is going to look like with this going on.”

“I’m sure it’ll—” A loud clap of thunder explodes outside, cutting Aaron off.

You startle, gasping loudly and feeling yourself immediately flush red with embarrassment. Your eyes flicker over to Hotch and he looks calm and collected, unshaken by the burst of sound.

Suddenly, the lights go out and the elevator screeches to a halt, throwing you off balance. You stumble as the elevator rocks violently and in your heels, you’re unable to catch yourself before you fall forward and hit your head against the wall; dropping your purse and scattering its contents in the process.

Pain splits your brow and your hand flies to your forehead. Blood, sticky and wet, trickles into your eye and you wince. The emergency lights kick on as you and Hotch both collect yourselves and stand.

“Are you ok?” Hotch asks.

“I hit my head.”

“Here, let me take a look.”

His hand curls under your arm as he uses the other to tilt your chin up. His eyes are hard in the dim red light.

“I can’t tell how deep it is in this lighting.” He presses his lips together and reaches for his cell. “Dammit!”

“Let me guess,” you say. “No signal.”

He snaps his phone shut. “None, what about you?”

“My entire life is on the floor right now,” you quip, gesturing at the ground.

“Right, sorry.” His eyes scan the ground and quickly locate your phone. He scoops it up and after flipping it open, he shakes his head with an exasperated sigh.

“Well,” you reply. “Guess we better make ourselves comfortable until the generators kick in.”

You kneel down and begin sweeping your belongings toward you. Hotch crouches and helps you without asking.

“Let’s at least see what you might have that I can use to help clean it up and stop the bleeding.”

“Oh yeah, let me just reach into my Mary Poppins bag here and pull out an EMT’s jump bag.”

He aims a hard look at you that he usually reserves for whenever Penelope makes a comment that teeters the line with HR.

“I’m the one with my head split open, I think I’m allowed to be sarcastic right now.”

Hotch breathes out sharply. “Split open, that’s a tad dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Two zingers in a row, Hotch. I’m impressed.” He shakes his head but even in the dim lighting, you don’t miss the smile on his lips. He picks up a couple of items and hands them to you. “Here’s your,” he pauses to examine the items in his hand. “Lipstick and tampons.”

A furious heat races to your cheeks as you snatch them out of his hand and shove them in your purse.

“Wait, give me one of those. I can use it to stop the bleeding.”

“Hotch, I’m not giving you a tampon.”

He levels you with another hard stare and when he says your name, you can hear the amusement in his voice. “It’s either that or your sweater, and I know that was a gift from JJ on your birthday. Besides, I was married for a long time. I’m not embarrassed by tampons or pads. You know I keep a supply in my desk, right?”

Your brow pinches, but a smile plays about your face. “Ok, I’ll bite,” you say as you pass him one. “Why?”

He pauses before tearing open the packaging. “You wouldn’t happen to have any hand sanitizer in there, would you?”

It takes you seconds to find the mini Purell inside your handbag and pass it to him. He squeezes some into his hands and scrubs it over his skin. “One time, Penelope dropped a file off in my office. She was in a rush and not acting like herself. I could tell she was stressed.” He tears open the plastic and pushes the cotton portion of the tampon out of the applicator. “I asked her if she was okay and boy, was that the wrong question to ask.” Hotch turns his head, looking around. “Ah, thought I saw that.” He scoops your half finished water bottle off the ground and pours a small bit of water onto the cotton to break it up. After working it into a small square, he gently presses it against the split in your brow. You wince and he apologizes. “She burst into tears and told me that her cycle had snuck up out of nowhere and she was unprepared and needed to run to the drug store. I told her not to worry and that I’d go for her. I’d forgotten to ask what exactly she wanted me to get, so I bought a little of everything. She took what she needed and I told her that I’d keep the rest in the lower left drawer of my desk in case an emergency ever arose again.”

“Hotch, that’s actually really sweet.”

He feigns a pained look, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Your use of the word actually cuts pretty deep, you know?” He lifts the makeshift bandage and inspects the injury. “It’s still bleeding. I’m afraid you might need stitches.”

You blow out a breath. “Great, and what do I tell them? Hey, I fell face first into an elevator panel. Patch me up!”

Hotch chuckles and applies more pressure to the wound. You hiss and again, he apologizes.

“It’s okay,” you say and realize this is probably the closest you’ve ever been to your supervisor. In fact, from this angle you notice just how long and thick his dark lashes are; the way his coffee colored eyes glimmer in the low lighting.

Holy shit, what are you thinking? That’s your boss you’re ogling.

“It’s hot.”

You blink out of your momentary stupor. “I’m sorry, what?”

“In here,” Aaron answers.

“Well yeah, the AC is out with the power. What do you think is taking the generators so long to kick in?”

Hotch’s brow furrows as his eyes flick about the space. “I’m not sure. It’s highly unusual though.”

You shrug out of your sweater and take over holding the makeshift bandage against your forehead, your fingers brushing against his hand as you do so. Bunching your sweater into a ball, you place it behind you and lie back.

Hotch laughs awkwardly. “What are you doing?”

“It seems like we’re going to be stuck here awhile, might as well make myself comfortable.”

He pushes himself to his feet and presses the emergency call button. You’re not shocked when the only response is static. You watch as he paces, pushing the button every few minutes.

“This is where Reid would say something like ‘the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.’”

Hotch tucks his hand against his belt and pushes his suit jacket back with his other fingers. It's a gesture you’re all too familiar with, the one he uses when he’s exasperated. He swipes at the perspiration beading on his forehead with his opposite sleeve.

“So, what, we just wait?”

A smirk pulls at your lips. This shouldn’t amuse you as much as it does, especially given the fact that you have a head injury and probably need to get checked out.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re so,” you hedge, searching for the word, “high strung.”

Hotch’s brow climbs toward his hairline. “Excuse me?”

Did you hit a nerve? It was a fairly bold statement to make. Situation be damned, he was still your boss. “I don’t know, Hotch.” You release a short laugh. “You can’t really be in control all the time, can you?”

“Doesn’t this team have an agreement to not profile each other?”

You roll your eyes and prop yourself up on an elbow, wincing as pain pulses behind your eye. Hotch’s lips part as he instinctively moves toward you and you wave him off. “It’s not about profiling, Hotch, look at you. Stop trying to solve everything all the time and just say ‘hey, this shit sucks!’”

He holds your eye for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“You’re right,” he says. He shrugs out of his suit jacket and drops onto the floor beside you. “This shit sucks.”

You smile and he returns one. It looks good on him. It’s something he doesn’t do often enough.

“Let me check your head.” He leans forward and you let him inspect the gash in your forehead. “I think the bleeding stopped.” Placing his palm against your jaw, he tilts your head toward the red emergency lights. “Everything looks,” his eyes glimmer and drop to linger on yours. “Fine.”

Your lips part, but you don’t find words. Has Hotch ever looked at you like this? Well, that implies he's looking at you a certain type of way. You clear your throat and Hotch drops his hand.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

The words are out of your mouth before you can think. “Are you?”

He says your name then, barely a whisper. He’s so close, close enough for you to smell his aftershave. You feel your heart rate begin to pick up, pulse pounding in your ears. Hotch’s chin dips and his lips are a hair's breadth away from yours. Before anything can happen, the elevator’s gears suddenly grind to life. The sudden jolt of movement causes your foreheads to bump together and you groan as pain splinters behind your eye.

Hotch immediately apologizes and holds your face in his hands, making sure the minor collision didn’t reopen the wound that had barely stopped bleeding as is.

Your hand reaches up to cup his against your cheek and you meet his concerned eyes. “I’m fine, Hotch.”

He holds your gaze for a moment before dipping his head. “Okay,” he says tightly. “Okay, let’s get you up. There’s a first aid kit in the break room.” He grabs hold of your forearm and loops an arm around your waist before helping you to your feet. You stumble as you rise to your full height, your blood not yet having the chance to properly circulate through your body.

Hotch’s grip tightens around your waist and you place a steadying head against his chest; fingers splayed against the muscular plane beneath the fabric of his dress shirt.

Only when the elevator dings, signaling your arrival at the 9th floor do you remember that it's your boss with his arm around you right now. You startle apart and laugh awkwardly.

“Here, let me—” His voice trails off as he drops to a crouching position and sweeps the remaining items of yours off the floor along with his jacket and your sweater.

You walk in semi-comfortable silence, letting Hotch lead the way to the break room. When you arrive, you let him pull out a chair for you and take a seat. He moves quickly, rummaging through cabinets until he locates the first aid kit. He sits opposite from you and opens the white box. After pulling on a pair of disposable gloves, he makes quick work of opening several gauze pads. He squeezes rubbing alcohol onto the gauze and apologizes in advance.

“It’s going to sting,” he cautions as he begins cleaning the area around the wound and the blood that had dripped down your cheek.

“I’m a big girl, Hotch. My dad cleaned my skinned knees when I was a kid.”

Hotch chuckles, and it rumbles low in his throat. “I certainly hope you don’t see me as your father.”

You nearly choke on your own spit and feel a furious heat blossom across your face. Hotch sees this and the smile stays plastered on his face. He presses the alcohol soaked cotton to the wound.

You hiss at the contact and dig your nails into your palms. “Fuck!” you curse, though it’s mixed with sharp laughter. “I don’t remember it stinging that much!”

Hotch laughs as he apologizes and works as quickly as he can to clean the affected area. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He finishes up and applies two butterfly bandages, which effectively close the gash. He discards the gloves and soiled gauze. After washing his hands, he uses a disinfectant wipe to sanitize the table and replaces the first aid kit in the cabinet.

“Efficient, as always.” You observe.

“I’ll have to fill out an incident report,” he says as he wipes his hands on his pants.

“Yeah, but that can wait until Monday.”

Hotch presses his lips together, not liking the sound of that.

“Oh, come on Aaron!”

His brow quirks. “Aaron? You never call me by my first name.”

You smile and gesture toward your forehead. “Head injury, I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“It’s nice,” he says, a dimple in his cheek on show as he smiles. His expression shifts immediately towards worry. “Though, you might actually have a mild concussion. We should probably get you to a doctor.”

You wave him off. “A doctor is just going to tell me to rest, take ibuprofen, don’t sleep the first night, et cetera, et cetera…Frankly, I’d rather avoid the bill.”

“There's a protocol for this…paper work, workers comp.”

You slap your hands against your thighs. “Fine!” you relent. “Let’s go!”

Hotch smiles, relief evident on his face. “I’ll grab the paperwork.” You scoop your sweater and purse into your arms as he dashes out of the break room.

As you make your way back toward the elevator, Hotch joins you. “Forgetting something?”

Your eyes widen and you feel like you could smack yourself. “My keys!”

Hotch tucks the manila envelope under his arm and fishes around in his pocket, withdrawing your key ring with a cheeky grin on his face. You quickly grab them out of his hand and shove them into your purse. “The whole reason I’m in this mess,” you grumble.

You slap the button to summon the elevator just as thunder crashes outside once more. You and Hotch exchange a look. “On second thought, why don’t we just take the stairs?”

“Good idea,” Hotch agrees.

As you descend the nine flights of stairs, you can’t help but think of the long night you’re about to be in for. When you reach the parking garage, you can smell the rain in the air. You press the button to unlock your car.

“What are you doing?” Hotch asks. “No way, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“Hotch, I’m going to be there all night.”

“Okay, so I’ll buy you breakfast in the morning.”

You freeze and Hotch does too. For a minute you just stand there holding each other’s gaze and in that moment, you both know something has fundamentally changed between the two of you. What that change is, neither of you can tell; but something in your gut tells you it’s a change for the better and you can’t wait to find out more.

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mygnolia · 2 months

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HOW ENHYPEN LOVES YOUR CAT !

୨୧ -› how's that fair? my cat likes you more than me, i swear.

pair -› bf!enhypen x cat owner!reader | wc -› 1.7k | no warnings!

NOTE: you have a gray tabby cat named pickles!

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ LEE HEESEUNG

when you come home, your cat immediately notices a new addition, and he curiously emerges.

“sorry,” you warned your boyfriend in advance, “he might not be super friendly.” your cat walks up to heeseung slowly, who’s crouched down and about to take his shoes off to get closer to your pet- and crazily enough- your cat doesn’t seem to be running away? For maybe the first time ever, you’re seeing your cat nudge himself against your boyfriend's leg and asking for pets. you watch them fondly, with a smile on your face as you see pickles sit on heeseung’s lap, with his head on your boyfriend’s thigh and eyes fluttering shut with a purr. your boyfriend’s subjected himself to not waking up your cat, and grabs his phone, not even bothering to try and move. you tut disapprovingly at your spoiled cat, and you sit down next to heeseung to scratch at pickle’s chin.

“here, if you want to lay down or get comfy i’ll take him off- he never does this.” but heeseung refuses, continuing to pet the sleepy cat in his lap.

“no, it’s okay baby. can’t you see pickles here and i are best friends?”

more under the cut!

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ PARK JONGSEONG

you warned jay that despite his excitement to see your cat, that your pet wasn’t super social and despite all of your friends trying to get pickles to come to them or even be in the same room, it would prove to be almost impossible. the cat had a mind of his own as he stayed anywhere in the house that he saw fit, and therefore, it was rare for your cat to be seen outside of sleeping on a windowsill or eating. and after jay takes off his shoes, he looks around for a gray feline that could be anywhere, but to no avail, and when your boyfriend looks back at you, the look on your face screams ‘i told you so.’

it’s not until later, when you two are laying in your bed watching something on your laptop that you hear a meow from the hallway outside your bedroom. and jay springs up, excited at the opportunity to finally meet the infamous avoidant pet.

with doubt that they’ll even get to interact, you stretch and close your laptop, but a call of your name has you wandering outside with curiosity.

you see jay, with your cat, who’s meowing anytime jay doesn’t give him pets. “i told you it’d happen.” he says with a smug grin.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ SIM JAEYUN

“you can’t play with pickles like he’s a dog.” you glare at jake, wanting to protect your baby from the rougher pet owners who might mishandle him. jake rolls his eyes, shooing you away as you walk back to your place.

“i’m a natural. any pet will love me.” and you smile, amused at his confidence as you open the door. with a few calls of his name, your pet comes running, nudging his face against your leg with excitement now that you’re back home. your cat has always been super affectionate and sweet, which is why you’re scared that the way jake plays with layla will translate over to how he interacts with your cat; an animal that’s much smaller and gentler. but you see jake fishing out his keys and dangling them in front, giggling at how your cat gently swaps at the jingling sounds. you place your stuff to watch them play around more, with your boyfriend sitting cross legged as your cat jumps higher and higher to hit the various keychains jake has.

when your cat swats the keys and it unexpectedly falls to the ground, your pet pounces to push it around and kick at it, leaving jake to beckon you over. “see? you had nothing to worry about.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ PARK SUNGHOON

if there’s only thing you should know about sunghoon, is that he is unfortunately loyal to gaeul, and always thinks that his dog is better than any pet around- including his best friend’s.

so when you open the door to your place to see sunghoon looking for something specific, you’re worried he’s left something from last time with the way he’s turning all the corners sharply. “there you are!” you hear him say, before you also hear a meow in response.

the only thing is- your cat almost never meows. it leaves you confused as you walk over to your boyfriend with your stuff still in hand, watching the boy pet pickles with a small smile on his features. sunghoon adores the way pickles purrs and closes his eyes, relaxed.

what was up with the grumpy, quiet cat you knew, and the gaeul dog supremacist you had for a boyfriend?

he suddenly gets up to place his bag down on the table while also taking off his coat, and you expected your cat to run to its owner, like how he usually does if sunghoon’s not around. and yet, pickles continues to confuse you even further, when he meows for the second time today and immediately follows your boyfriend, swatting at his dress pants. “you just love me so much, huh?” and he tells your cat the same thing he said to you just a few days ago, which leaves a small streak of jealousy in your scowl.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ KIM SUNOO

your cat has never been social- much to the disappointment of your boyfriend, sunoo. he sits there with a pout as he tries to click his tongue and tap the floor in hopes to attract the very disinterested ‘pickles’ into his lap. sunoo loves cats, and usually the neighborhood strays run to him when he offers treats- but this time, his cat radar’s been rejected.

“i can’t believe pickles doesn’t want to be with me. that’s like- the first time it’s ever happened.” and his pout is apparent in the way he talks, even if you’re not looking at him. you turn around with a smile, joining sunoo on your bed as you give him a comforting hug. he returns your sentiment, and naturally, you two shift into a more comfortable position where you lay on his chest and he gently detangles parts of your hair, telling each other about your day.

you almost fall asleep considering how calm and quiet everything is; your boyfriend holding you close, talking about the book he’s reading, and a quiet playlist in the background until he hears a small meow and a furry figure suddenly dipping on the bed.

and although you’re too far into sleep to celebrate his victory, sunoo smiles to himself. “i knew you’d come around.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ YANG JUNGWON

jungwon’s likeness to cats (proclaimed by his friends ONCE and he just accepts it) proves himself to be useful when he meets your cat again. for a feline so reserved and independent, you’re used to seeing your cat’s soft cuddly side only in your bedroom or when he’s feeling particularly lonely. and pickles always knows what he wants- so if you’re giving him too many chin scratches- he’d definitely nip your hand in warning.

you tell jungwon all of this to make sure he doesn’t leave with a scratch on his pretty face, and you’re far too scared to ruin the excitement he has when it comes to playing with your pets (since…maeum is…interesting!). you can tell you boyfriend is a cat magnet when your cat not only emerges immediately, but also comes up to sniff jungwon and immediately ask for pets. without any other choice, jungwon sits down, scratching pickle’s cheeks and watching the cat’s eyes flutter shut. and for a moment when your pet worms his way out of jungwon’s grasp, you’re worried he’s going to leave- but instead, pickles lays down on the floor his white belly in the air as he meows and looks at jungwon expectedly. you pout, setting your stuff down to join the two of them and rub his stomach. “pickles never does that with me!” you tell him, almost a little annoyed.

jungwon smirks. “i guess i’m pickles’ favorite now.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ NISHIMURA RIKI

because riki hasn’t seen bisco in a while, you wanted to bring him back to see your cat, despite your boyfriend’s obvious affinity for more energetic pets. and although you know it’s not the same, riki smiles at your effort, planting a few kisses to express his gratitude before you two come back to your pet. walking in, you notice pickles on the couch, and you’re thankful not to have to search for him and ultimately give up when your cat is taking a nap. riki, who’s eager to play with animals, immediately takes off his shoes and sets down your things, running over to your cat to snuggle into his fur. you watch them with mirth, seeing how the boy tries to gently pick up the cat and chases pickles around the house when the pet doesn’t want to be held. at least they’re both having fun.

riki emerges from your bedroom waving a squishy fish toy and snatching it away before your cat can reach it, and he continues to until you join him from behind, sinking down to his level as your arms wrap around him and your head rests on his shoulder. he teases your pet with the toy one last time, before throwing it into the room across from him and letting pickles chase it to get some alone time with you. riki turns around to let you lean against his chest, his arms wrapping around your torso as you two sit on the ground and enjoy each other’s presence.

the simplicity of the moment is ruined when pickles comes back with the fish toy, squeaking it next and dropping it, eyes shining with anticipation. “woah. your cat plays fetch better than bisco.”

permanent fic taglist (send ask or dm to be added): @dimplewonie @minleeeknow @heeheesang @mintpjzroll

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peachesofteal · 3 months

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Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: 18+ daddy kink, sexual content, phone sex

"Whit do ye think, LT?"

Simon vaguely hears Johnny's voice. It's somewhere in the background, something he's not dialed into right at this moment, since they're not in an active situation.

For now.

Instead, they're all holed up in safe house with shitty mattresses, shitty couches, and thin walls crowded inside a concrete box. Simon's on his back, on the couch, flicking through his camera roll, picture after picture of you and the baby filling the screen. There are new ones, ones you've sent over the last three weeks, and when he fires off a text to let you know his phone is on for a little bit, you send a video back almost immediately.

"That the wee one?" Johnny says from over his shoulder, and Simon nods, clicking play.

"Okay Ry, let's show daddy," Orion's on his tummy in the living room, holding his head up, staring at you behind the phone. He's giggling a little, smiling, wriggling around, and you place one of his toys just out of his reach, to the left. "You can do it bub, come on. Daddy wants to see." There's more encouragement, Orion rocking back and forth on his belly and kicking his feet-

before rolling over completely onto his back.

"Good job bub! What a strong boy." You pull him into your arms, his back to your chest, legs up over yours, and turn the phone so the video shows both of you. "So, that's a thing." You smile, and kiss his head. "Think we'll have a crawler on our hands soon." Something sad flickers in your gaze and you chase it away. "Anyway, we uh... we miss you. Call tonight?" A knot forms in his throat, and he practically leaps off the couch, making for the back door. Johnny calls after him, but he pays it no mind.

>Can you take a call now?

>You just missed him, I'm so sorry. He's asleep :(

>That's okay. I want to talk to you.

>Okay, sure.

"Hello?" You're not quite whispering, but your voice is still soft, careful, and he closes his eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey. How are you?"

"Fine. Can't believe he's rolling over." You stifle a small laugh.

"I know. He's going to be crawling soon, I can feel it. Keeps trying to push himself up with his arms and scoot his legs forward. It's cute. He looks like a seal." You sigh, and he gets lost in it, honey sweet spiderweb trapping him in the middle, tangling him up for the feast, your fangs already deeply embedded in his flesh.

That's what you are. Something under his skin. Something possessing him down to the marrow. A man who only takes orders from one other-

willing to say 'how high' if you would only say 'jump'.

He hears his promise every day, every night, ringing in his ears.

Johnny thinks he's flipped a switch somewhere. Gaz says he's more bloodthirsty than he's ever seen.

John just smiles at him, a knowing look in his eye, a mutual understanding.

He's going home, no matter what. If he has to kill every single soul he comes across, that's what happens.

He made a promise.

"Hope he waits." He tries to control the rough scrape of his voice, but it's still there.

"I'm sure he will." You're gentle in your reassurance, kind. His kitten.

"How's he doin' otherwise?"

"Good. Fussing has calmed down a bit, thank god, but I think he misses daddy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you pause, small intake of breath, a barely there gasp. "I miss him too." He takes a cursory look around, and then drops the tone of his voice.

"Y'miss daddy, sweet girl?" The two of you have been dancing around this, for the last week. Since landing at the safe house, he's been able to call almost every night, sometimes he catches Orion when he's up and sometimes he only catches you, and recently, you've been engaging him with sexually charged late night conversations that make him jerk his cock behind a locked door somewhere, and come into his own hand.

Feels like a waste. He wonders if you'd let him get you pregnant again.

He doesn't even know if you can have sex right now, to be honest. He knows you tore, badly. Knows you had stitches. Knows you're probably still nursing the wounds, physically and mentally.

That's okay. He'll wait. He'll wait as long as he needs to. For this. For you.

He doesn't know where the change came from either, but he's not complaining. Or questioning. He's indulging and dreaming and telling you to reach into your pajama pants to touch yourself for him while he's tossing off on the other end of the line.

If he had to guess, he'd say the distance has given you some sort of courage, some sort of emboldenment to feel it out, gain comfortability.

The killing makes him extra rank, fills him with ardor for you, for his life now. He's always felt purpose, devotion, to his job, the 141, but now, there's a higher altar to lay himself at, a higher calling.

Getting a ring on your finger, for one.

"Are you in bed mama?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Gonna play with your pussy for me?"

"Oh god." You groan, but it's breathy, wild on the other end of the line, a whole world away.

"Tell daddy what you're doing, honey." He's rock hard, so much it aches, but he's not going to fulfill the burning need right now. He wants to be focused on you. "Are you touching yourself?"

"Y-yes."

"Does it feel nice?" You whine. "Rubbing your pretty little clit f'me, making it feel good?”

"Oh my god- yeah."

"Daddy's so proud of you, sweetheart. Taking such good care of Orion. Taking good care of yourself, making yourself cum since he can't be there to do it for you." You moan, unintelligible, nectarous melody on the wind. "I wish I was there. I think about the night we made our baby all the time, how you looked spread out on your bed, taking all my cum like a good girl."

"Oh, oh-"

"Took my cock so pretty, mama. Did so good, fit me like a glove." You're panting, tiny, bright whines slipping free, and he knows you're close. "Don't stop. Let me hear you." He orders, slipping a palm over the swollen mass of his cock.

"Fuck, daddy-"

"Keep going honey, come on." He can nearly hear your teeth grinding.

"I'm cumming, oh- daddy, I'm, I'm-" There's a shuffle, a high pitched gasp, and then you go silent, breathing heavily into the phone.

"Good job, mama."

He's sour by the end of week four. Muscles tight from the agony of being away, awful visions, nightmares, rotting the frontside of his brain when he closes his eyes.

The balaclava is heavy with blood now, everyday. Red stains white, fetid and curdled, trying to strain through his teeth.

They've moved from the safe house. The phone calls are only a dream. He turns his phone on for five minutes every other day, desperate to download the photos you're sending, only to get one out of the ten. Can't text you back.

At night, he stands outside with his chin tilted up, orientating himself with the skies, searching for Orion in the cosmic chaos. It takes time, too long, but eventually he spots it, south west in the sky, glittering alongside the moon. His stars. His moon.

John tries to temper him. "You'll have to get better at this, if you're planning to stay, Simon. It won't get easier, but you can ease the ache."

It's never been a question about staying, he's served the 141 for far too long to give it up now. The want is incredibly selfish, but he doesn't consider himself the other kind of man, the one who would take a desk job or sacrifice his duty. His life's work, essentially.

He's not a good man. But he's yours. He won't have it any other way.

Kyle's got a girl at home now, he tells Simon. Maybe we should introduce them, ya know LT? Give em someone to lean on, when we're gone. A brilliant idea, if he's ever heard one. Though he's not surprised. Gaz is the top of his class in everything.

He and Johnny speed run through the last part of the op, raining hell down upon everyone in his path, and he finally sees that crazy glint in Soap's eyes, the one that's been missing this entire time.

"Was fun, LT." He slurs the night before exfil, glass of whiskey lax in his hand. "Almost sad to be goin' home."

Not too long ago, he might agree. But now that he's staring down the barrel of five and a half too long weeks, he can't wait for it to be over.

>Hey

>Hey omg, I've been worried.

>All's good. On our way to base now. Gonna shower here, change. Alright if I come over after?

>Yes.

He’s a livewire stepping off the bird. Three paces behind Gaz, he’s trying to type out a text to you, hardly paying attention, spreading his stride to close the gap between him and the showers.

“Hey darling.” Gaz is wrapping someone up in his arms, pretty little thing with dimples, Simon barely glances up-

And then nearly trips over his boots, tongue tied to see you standing behind Kyle’s new girl, sundress swinging at your thighs, Orion babbling away on your hip.

His bag drops.

He sprints.

“Ah!” You shriek as he tugs you into him, lifting you and the baby with an arm under the plush of your ass. “Simon, oh my god-“ you curl forward, free hand gripping his shoulder, and he presses his mouth to yours.

“Missed you mama.” Your top teeth bite into your bottom lip, bashful and sweet. “You too, bub.” You kiss him again, longer this time, ignoring the whooping from Johnny in the background.

“Welcome home.”

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #through me (the flood)

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