#I just don’t have any energy left anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trashmouth-richie · 1 month

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eddie x reader

a follow up to this prompt by @rebelfell

2.6k

tw: angst, smut, minors fuck off pls teasing? is that a trigger idk.

“we need to talk.” the conversation we’ve been waiting for after you catch your best friend getting head finally unfolds

“We need to talk.”

Your blood ran cold, ice in your veins it was practically prickling your skin. The heat on your cheeks bloomed and your gut quaked at the sight of him, covered.

Play dumb! It’ll work!

“I , m-mean, now?— like right now? You have cum- company! a guest— we can talk later, yeah?”

The stuttering, calmly hands and the sweat gathered under your arms— you were a one woman walking circus, missing the clown nose.

“Why are you being so weird?” He leans into your doorframe, tattooed arms cross over his broad and glistening chest.

The flush still in his cheeks almost brought you to your knees, but it was the single flick of his tongue on his lips that had you melting and wishing he had licked your lips instead. Fuck.

“… besides, you already interrupted my guest, so she left—”

Your ears perk up at the mention of said whore leaving your apartment, and your eyelashes bat open, “she left? Why?”

Eddie huffs and puts his tongue in his cheek like he can’t believe you’re being so stupid.

“Cut the shit, okay? Will you just be an adult for a second?”

The smile on your lips falls and you take a step back towards your bed setting your keys down on the nightstand. The silence is anything but quiet. The energy was chaotic and shooting like daggers much like Eddie’s eyes into yours.

“Well?” he asks dramatically, raising his eyebrows to try to get you to speak.

Play dumb— it’s working!

“Well what?” you muse innocently.

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie spits, any softness he brought into this situation had fizzled—dead at the door.

“I—”

“Forget how to knock?”

“No—”

“Suuuure, you just thought you’d what? Barge in, ignoring our code?”

“I didn’t—-there was no hot water! You forgot to pay the water bill!”

“That’s not how water bills work.”

You stand stunned— mouth open to argue but nothing will even come out.

“It’s the water heater for this shitheap building that’s out— if you don’t believe that I paid the bill—call the water company yourself.”

“…oh.” your voice is small, quiet almost unheard.

“Wow, really great apology.”

“Oh relax! Just call her back and explain it was a mistake, who cares? She shouldn’t be so uptight.”

Eddie is fuming, blood rushing to his head as he tries not to yell out right. But fuck you were being so difficult.

“Ya know… I didn’t say shit when you had Harrington tied to your bed posts and you couldn’t undo the knots— did I? Nope—not a fucking word, I just cut him loose and acted like nothing ever happened!”

You wince, who knew knots were that hard to unlace?

“That was different!”

“Or the multiple times I caught the fuckin’ Chief slipping out of your room at 5 AM? I even bummed him a cigarette for his morning coffee!”

Your jaw hung to the floor, you didn’t know Eddie had any idea that you’d been sleeping with Hopper.

“So? What—we’re just airing out dirty laundry now?” you could be venomous too, your rattle sounding off ready to strike.

“How many months did you try gettin’ into Mary’s pants before you dumped her because she’s married to Jesus Christ her Lord & Savior? Her name is Mary for fucks sake! Not hard!”

His face pulls to anger, “don’t be a bitch!”

“And where’s Gareth? Never see him around anymore, maybe it’s because you ran over his d—.”

“That was an accident! I honked and he never moved!”

“He was deaf Eddie!” you yell back into his face, “or! How about the time I had to pick you up from the Hideout because you got so drunk you pissed your pants?”

“That was YOU!”

The two of you were standing nose to nose, shouting accusing each other of shit that didn’t even matter. Eddie had your back and you’d have his until the end. Cradle to the grave.

But this was different, you weren’t fighting like siblings or friends, you were both screaming as if you were in pain.

He’s the first to move, shaking his head and turning towards the door. when he speaks his voice is low, angry.

“When my door is shut don’t open it—turn your ass around and fuck off, got it?”

His words split your skin, vining through your body like sharp thorns. The hot spill of tears were welling in your eyes.

“Sorry to bother you, asshole— won’t happen again.”

He’s on the opposite side when you slam your door in his face. The rain brewed and stewed and finally was ready to fall from the clouds in your eyes.

Why were you acting like this?

Grabbing your keys you set to leave again, needing an escape so he couldn’t hear your wailing cries. But again— when you opened the door, he was still standing there, only this time he looked pissed.

“Move.”

He brushes you off as if he didn’t even hear you, “enough.”

“Eddie, get out of the way!”

“Do you know how many nights I listened to you fake it for this fuckheads?” How long

I’ve waited for you to admit it?”

He shuts your door behind him as he pushes his way inside.

“Admit what?”

“C’mon, baby— we haven’t been friends for a long time, not really.”

You’re confused and on the verge of tears, “what?!”

Eddie presses forward, head tilted down at you.

“Those douchebags you bring here can’t handle you the way I know you need…coming home to see their boots by the front door makes me absolutely despise you.”

“Who gives a shit? I trip over skanky high heels sometimes too.”

You were missing the point he was trying to make, way over your head.

“Never satisfied when they leave…that little vibrator in the top drawer is not as quiet as you think it is.”

You were throbbing, aching… how did he know?

He inches forward, and you double back towards the door.

“I—”

“Pretty little moans on your lips just minutes after they leave…‘m not stupid sweetheart, I know you do it on purpose— parading around the apartment in your little shorts, never wearing a bra… you’re a tease.”

He wasn’t right. He couldn’t be! Right?

“I hate you, Eddie.”

He stalks forward like a predator eyeing its prey, a stupid smirk on his face.

“No— No I don’t think you do. I think you’re so fucking wound up about me, jealous... It’s alright, I get it. I bury myself in bitches so you’ll get out of my head.”

He takes a ragged breath, his eyes pitch dark, and your back hits the door, he closes in around you, his arms on either side of your head.

“I fucking hate you, princess. I hate that it doesn’t work.. you’ve made me jealous for too fucking long.”

Your body was screaming, angel and devil on your shoulder dancing and holding hands rooting you on.

“H-how long?”

His hand falls to your chin, pulling down your bottom lip.

“Senior year. Hellfire. You laughed at one of Jeff’s stupid fucking jokes and my blood ran cold. I wanted you to look at me like you looked at him. That was just the first time I realized I wanted you.”

You shudder, fingers running along his chest, playing with the chain on his neck, “why not say anything?”

“Didn’t wanna ruin this.”

His lips nearly touch yours, he’s leaning in so close. And you don’t pull away.

“I think it’s pretty clear that our friendship is over, Eddie. I fucking hate you.”

“I hate you, too sweetheart.”

The tension is thick, spinning with bated breath and sexual desire.

“So, we hate each other?”

“Yep.” Eddie muses, angling your chin so he can see your neck.

“…and we aren’t friends?”

He nods silently, pressing his nose to your cheek, “seems to be that way.”

“You’ve ruined everything.”

“Good,” he all but whispers into your ear.

“..a perfectly good pair of underwear.”

His breath hitches in his throat, and he licks his lips. “Can’t have that.”

“No, not at all,” you tease, thumbing at your waistband and letting your shorts hit the floor.

He steps back to examine you with wide eyes, letting them narrow as he bites his lip, looking you dead in the eyes.

“I’m gonna fuck you exactly how you need to be fucked.”

Pulling him back into you by his chain necklace you ask centimeters from his lips, tasting the heat from his mouth, “what are you waiting for?”

He takes a deep breath, hovering his mouth over yours, “nothing, not anymore.”

His tongue hits you first, electric like an eel on your lips, his breath hot as fire. You moan out when his hands grip your ass, pulling you into him with such force you could have toppled over.

Eddie is loud too. Groaning with each swipe of your tongue against his.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long, baby.”

His dick is pressed into your middle, hard and kicking up as your hands reach into his hair, pulling you closer to him as if he were a rope and you were climbing a mountain.

He pulls you away from the door to get a quick slap to your ass. Rough and hard and you’re mewling, his rings stinging your skin.

Your lips close to his ear you whisper “Eddie… please.”

He pulls away after leaving a mark on your neck.

“You don’t have to beg, I’ll give you whatever you need, however many times you want it, honey.”

His fingers dip into your waistband around your hips as he slides your panties down to your thighs. “Let me see that cunt, show me what I did to you.”

You step out of your panties and he lowers himself to the floor on bent knees. “Jesus Christ, look how pretty she is, ‘m gonna eat this pussy till you cum all over my face.”

You nod dumbly, body on fire from his words, the lust of having his hands touch you in places he never had, places you dreamt he would, has your mind spinning.

His bangs tickle your inner thighs, breath fanning on your clit, thumbs spreading you open. He sucks in a breath, whistling low.

A single flick of his tongue— that’s all it takes for your eyes to roll, for your back to bend in an arch like you were being exorcized of hell’s worst demons. Your fingernails scratching into the door trying to anchor yourself from grinding on his face until his nose broke.

He spits, watching it drip down to your cunt, “don’t ask me to stop.”

Diving in, his tongue is everywhere. Lapping you up, sucking your clit into his mouth. Swirling around like you would while eating an ice cream cone. Your chest heaves and your thighs tremble as he hooks one over his shoulder pressing into him and he gently pushes it back into place, his eyes never leaving your body.

When it happens again, he shoves it down with force, nipping at one of your thighs, his lips shiny and wet he groans, “keep ‘em put.”

The tip of his middle finger pushes into you, and you squeak out a gasp, leaning forward off the door to take a look at him, and he nearly laughs, “jesus, you’re tight sweetheart, gonna need to work you up a bit.”

He smiles before attaching his mouth to your thigh, sucking a bruise as he fucks you with his fingers, adding a second that’s easier than the first. Your body rolls with his motions, pushing back against him and you know your orgasm is about to snap.

His tongue replaces his fingers and the heat in your stomach releases, untying the white knot and spilling over his lips as you scream out his name.

“Thatta girl, fuck look at you, Christ.”

Your eyes open, a strange drunk feeling taking over, as if you were high on a cloud and falling gracefully back to the earth. Opening to see the blackened eyes of the guy you’ve called your best friend for years, and if you would have known his tongue could do that, maybe you would have ruined this friendship a lot sooner.

“Fuck off Munson,” you mutter, out of breath as your foot gently sets on the ground.

“What?” he laughs.

“Just keeping the fact that you eat pussy better than the devil all to yourself huh? Selfish.”

His face splits into a grin laced with evil as he stands, licking his lips, “that’s not all I can do.”

He’s on you in a flash, hoising you up into his arms, and using the other to hastily shove his boxers down. “Can’t go back after this.”

“Oh this is the tipping point? Fucking is gonna ruin it not you just making going down on me?”

He rolls his eyes as he lines himself up with you, “what happened to that sweet girl I used to chase in the trailer park, huh?”

You reach around your legs and grab his thick cock and lightly sink down onto it the head barely pushing past your puffy lips, “fuck…met a boy who grew up and started selling weed out of his van, kind of an asshole, really big dick though.”

He thrusts up into you so hard you nearly see black, vision spotty from pleasure alone, you whine his name and he practically comes undone.

“Don’t.. shit… don’t do that, I won’t last. Those noises haunt me… been wanting to hear them.”

He holds you tight and fucks you slowly, dragging his cock at a ridiculously slow speed. Groaning when you suck him in deep, biting his neck.

“There it is, the noise that started this whole mess.”

He grins into you stupidly, “I’m glad you’re perverted plan worked, you little hussy.”

His hips move faster and your both whining, accompanied by the slapping of skin on skin. “Water heaters’ been out since last week, ‘m not stupid babe, you’re the one who called and asked.”

“Whoops— oh my goddd,” you squeal before you're panting like a dog and clawing his arms with your nails, he was splitting you wide open and you were near to tears.

The tears finally fall when Eddie bottoms out in your cunt, filling you up, grunting your name as he rests his forehead to your shoulder— completely spent.

His lips kiss your collar bone and you twirl a curl away from his face exhausted around his softening length.

“Princess,” he breathes, kissing life back into himself with the sweat from your skin, “if you wanted to fuck, you should have told me sooner, could have saved us a week of cold showers, y’know?”

You kissed his lips, letting him set you down on the bed so you could both lay back in a lazy post sex high, surrounded by your blankets.

“Well maybe you should have fixed it sooner, you are the maintenance manager of the building.”

Eddie grins and pins you onto the mattress, his hair falling into your face, his thumb sweeping over your cheeks to catch a rogue eyelash, “come with me to fix it?”

“Hmm..” fingers moving his hair behind his ear, “you gonna wear that slutty stained white tank top?”

“Slutty? Why, gonna seduce me in the boiler room?” his lips move down your neck and you whimper.

“Maybe…” you tease tickling his underarm, “so if I wouldn’t have barged into your room… what else would you have done?”

Eddie only smiles, thinking of his plan to “break” the air conditioner and hide your hoodies and blankets so you’d have to come to him for warmth.

“Let’s just say, you would have ended up as my girl one way or another.”

steve tied up in readers room

taglist: @likedovesinthewnd @dashingdeb16 @joejoequinnquinn @min-geniusx @ho3forfakeguys @taintedcigs @b-irock @queenimmadolla @serasvictoria @the-unforgivenn @curlyjoequinn @munsonlore @eiightysixbaby @munsonburn3r

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson drabble #eddie drabble #eddie blurb #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #stranger things

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rynwritesreid · 6 months

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You’re on your own| Spencer Reid

Summary: After releasing Spencer will never love you back, you take some time of work to work on your mental health. However, an unsub the team have been working to find, finds you first.

Content: Fem!reader. Threats against life. Mention of weapons. Mention of blood. It’s full of angst (I guess some fluff but not much). This is a bit darker than anything else I’ve written before, but I really enjoyed writing this one. So, I hope you enjoy

A/N: I have written another fic like this called-shattered reflections. If you enjoy this one, you might like that one.

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

4.3k words

You had been in love with Spencer from the moment you had laid your eyes on him, but he most definitely didn’t feel the same way. He had been on dates or fallen in love with serval women while you had known him, and you had just come to terms that you two would never happen, so you just started looking elsewhere.

At work you barely interacted with him anymore. You two weren’t the greatest friends to start off with, but now you only talked to him when necessary. Everyone, but him, had noticed. Luke asked if you two had had an argument or something, but you just shrugged him off. Emily and JJ asked if everything was alright, which you would always say “yes, I don’t know why you don’t think everything if alright.”

You were only ignoring him to get over your crush, but you were always seemingly pushing away all of your friends in the process. Emily, JJ, Tara, Luke, and Penelope now never mentioned Spencer around you. They all knew something was going on, but didn’t want to ask, and all you really wanted to do was rant how he never seemed to realise you were right there in front of him.

After one practically gruelling case you didn’t speak a word to any of your friends/team while on the flight back, or while in the Quantico. Once you were in the safety of your apartment you burst into tears, wondering if you were ever going to be good enough for anyone. JJ text you asking if you were okay as you seemed abnormally quiet. You didn’t reply. You didn’t want to push anyone away, but this is what you did when you were down.

You ignored everyone for the days you had off, putting dnd on your phone. You barely left your apartment and would order food, so you didn’t have to grocery shopping. What you didn’t expect to happen was for Spencer to message you.

“Hey, I was wondering if I’ve done something wrong. You haven’t talked to me for a while. You haven’t really talked to anyone. But if I have done something wrong, please tell me.”

You wondered if someone had asked him to text you, but you didn’t reply. You just read of the message. He didn’t send another one. But everyone else was constantly checking in on you. You felt bad, but you just didn’t have the energy to reply to them.

Once you had returned to work, you said sorry to everyone (but Spencer) for ignoring them and just explained the case hit you hard. Spencer kept looking at you, half expecting you to apologise to him, but you simply just ignored him. He asked everyone why you were doing this, but they all told him they didn’t have a clue.

When everyone else had gone to get some lunch, Spencer came up to you.

“Hey, are you okay? You have ignored me all day, you didn’t reply to my message. You haven’t even looked in my direction. What have I done?” He seemed defeated. His voice, while it wasn’t filled with pain and sadness, wasn’t exactly a happy voice.

“Spencer, you haven’t done anything. I just want to be alone. Please, go back to your desk.” It was a short reply, you didn’t look up at him, or acknowledge his presence.

He left, and he didn’t say anything to you. He ignored you, like you ignored him. Everyone was worried, wondering what had happened. Questioning if everything was okay, but like always, you shrugged them off.

You hated how you felt, and how you were treating everyone else. Emily suggested, because of your recent behaviour, you take some time off. She wasn’t forcing you too, but both you and her knew it would be for the best. You reluctantly agreed. You did feel like a burden to everyone around you, you felt like you were pulling them down with, which you knew was unfair.

As you left the BAU, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything going on around you. You knew deep down that you couldn't keep going on like this. You needed to sort out your feelings and deal with your emotions before you could come back and face everyone again.

The first few days of your break were difficult. You couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt that was hanging over you like a dark cloud. You spent most of your days in bed, scrolling through social media, and thinking about all the missed opportunities you had with Spencer. You even considered reaching out to him to apologize, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. It was like your pride was holding you back, and you didn't know how to let go of it.

You knew you needed to go outside at one point, even if it was just for a little walk. As you stepped out of your apartment building, the sun hit your face, and you closed your eyes for a moment, soaking in the warmth. You took a deep breath and started walking towards the shops. You could hear the birds chirping, and it was as if the world had come alive. You felt a sense of peace wash over you, and you realized that maybe taking a break was exactly what you needed.

After you had picked up some groceries, you walked to one of your favourite parks. You sat on a bench and decided to people watch and make up little stories about the people walking by. You watched people chase after their dogs, and friends share jokes and laughs. It felt tranquil, a moment of bliss in a world full of chaos. You hadn’t replied to anyone, but I think everyone was expecting that.

You walked back to your apartment, the peace you once felt had gone. You had a feeling of dreed, like something awful was about to happen to you. You looked around, making sure no one was following you or watching you from a far. You didn’t notice anyone, but you couldn’t put your feelings aside.

Just as you were about to reach your apartment, you heard footsteps behind you. You quickly turned around, but no one was there. You shrugged it off, thinking it was just your imagination playing tricks on you. However, a few minutes later, you heard the footsteps again. This time, they were louder and more distinct. Your heart started racing as you began to feel a sense of panic. You picked up your pace, trying to get to your apartment building as quickly as possible.

You had reached the safety of your apartment, making sure you had locked the door. You turned on the TV, just to make your apartment less quiet and so that your mind couldn’t wonder. As you sat on your couch, you couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching you. You tried to convince yourself that it was just your imagination, but the more you tried to ignore it, the stronger the feeling became. You stood up and walked towards the door, peering through the peephole, but you couldn't see anyone outside.

Just as you were about to turn away from the door, you saw a figure in the corner of your eye. You quickly turned back to the peephole, but the figure was gone. You backed away from the door, heart racing and palms sweating.

You decided to call Emily, hoping that she would answer and calm you down. She picked up after a few rings, and you could tell from her voice that she was worried.

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” Emily asked.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “I don’t know, Emily. I just have this feeling that someone is watching me. I went to the park near where I live, and when I started walking back home, I got this sudden feeling that someone was following me. I don’t want to seem paranoid, but I just can’t shake this feeling.”

“Okay. Do you want me to come over?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just wanted to tell someone. I kind of wanted you to tell me I sounded stupid and that of course you feel like this, you work to catch bad people all the time, these feelings are normal.”

Emily was quiet for a moment before speaking in a calm and reassuring voice. "It's okay to feel scared sometimes. It doesn't make you stupid. And you're right, we catch bad people for a living, so it's normal to feel like this. But if you want, I can come over and we can talk about it more."

You felt relieved that Emily didn’t think you were stupid, but you didn’t want to be a burden to her. “No, Em. It’s fine. I’ll text you later.”

“Okay. But if you keep feeling like this, call me again and I’ll come straight over.” Emily hung up after saying that.

You turned back on your TV and make some food. Though the feeling persisted, you didn’t call Emily again, you really didn’t want to course any problems for her or be a burden.

As the night progressed, the feeling of being watched only grew stronger. You tried to shake it off and distract yourself with TV shows and books, but nothing seemed to help. You couldn't dismiss the nagging sensation of being followed or watched.

You decided to take matters into your own hands and investigate. It was a risky move, but you couldn't just sit around waiting for something to happen. You quickly grabbed your coat and left your apartment, determined to find out who or what was causing these feelings of dread.

As you walked down the dimly lit street, you kept looking over your shoulder, trying to spot anyone suspicious. You tried to act casual, but you couldn't shake off the feeling that you were being followed. You quickened your pace, hoping to reach the end of the street before anything could happen.

Just as you turned the corner, you saw a shadowy figure standing in the middle of the road. Your heart skipped a beat, and you froze in place. The figure started moving towards you, and you could hear its heavy breathing.

You tried to run, but your legs felt like they were made of lead. The figure was getting closer and closer, and you could feel it’s hot breath on your neck. You turned around to face your attacker, but before you could even get a good look at them, they grabbed you and pulled you into an alleyway. You tried to scream, but their hand was firmly over your mouth, muffling any sound.

You struggled against your attacker, but their grip was too strong. You could feel their body pressing against yours, and you knew that you were in danger.

You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down and think of a way out of the situation. As you opened your eyes, you saw the glint of a knife in the attacker's hand. You knew then that you were in grave danger and started to panic.

The attacker pushed you up against the wall, the knife now pressed against your throat. You could feel the cold metal against your skin, and you shuddered in fear.

“Don't. Move.” The attacker's voice was low and menacing, and you knew that they weren't going to let you go without a fight.

You tried to reason with them, to plead for your life. “Please...let me go...I won't tell anyone...”

The attacker chuckled darkly, and you knew that your words had fallen on deaf ears. They leaned in closer, their breath hot against your face. “Oh, I know you won't tell anyone. Even if you did, they wouldn’t care. You’ve pushed them all away, and now they don’t care about you.”

Your heart sank at the attacker's words. They were right - you had been pushing people away, isolating yourself from those who cared about you. But you didn't deserve to die for it. You mustered up all of your courage and looked the attacker straight in the eye.

"Please, I don't want to die," you said, your voice trembling. "I'll do anything. Just let me go."

“Anything, huh? God, hearing, an FBI agent beg for their life isn’t something I thought I’d ever hear. But here is what is going to happen. You’re going to come with me, not making a sound, and you are going to help me out. Okay?”

The attacker loosened their grip on you, and you took the opportunity to nod your head in agreement. You didn't know what they wanted from you, but you knew that you had to do whatever it took to stay alive. You were an FBI agent; you were trained for these situations. You knew how to fight, but right now you were a victim, one who hadn’t be specially trained, one who didn’t know how to handle these types of situations and one who, apparently, had no friends left who would help them out or who cared about them.

The attacker led you deeper into the alleyway, their grip firm on your arm. You tried to think of a way out of this, but your mind was blank. You were scared, and you didn't know what was going to happen to you.

As you walked, you noticed that the walls of the alleyway were covered in graffiti. You saw a message scrawled on the wall in bright red paint and gasped. It was a message from the notorious serial killer, the one that you had been tracking for months. This couldn't be a coincidence.

You turned to the attacker, your heart racing. "Are you working for him? Are you his accomplice?"

The attacker smirked. "Why don't you come with me and find out?"

You had a feeling that this wasn't going to end well, but you knew that you had to keep your wits about you if you were going to get out of this alive.

You followed the attacker through the alleyway, your mind racing as you tried to come up with a plan. You didn't know who this person was or what they wanted, but you knew that you had to stay alert and focused if you were going to make it out of this alive.

The attacker led you to a rundown building on the outskirts of town. They pushed you inside and closed the door behind you. You found yourself in a dimly lit room, the walls covered in damp and mould.

The attacker sat down on a chair in the corner of the room, watching you with a cold and calculated gaze. You could feel their eyes on you, and you knew that you were in danger.

"What do you want from me?" you asked, your voice shaking.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to murder anyone. I want you to be a warning to the rest of your team, not to come looking for me. They’ve been working on my case while you’ve been away, and I don’t want them too anymore. So, you, are going to be warning.”

You felt a chill run down your spine at the attacker's words. They wanted to use you as a warning to your own team. It was a sick and twisted plan, and you knew that you couldn't let it happen.

"I won't be a part of this," you said firmly. "I won't let you use me as a pawn in your twisted game."

The attacker laughed, standing up from their chair and walking towards you. "Oh, but you don't have a choice, do you? You either do what I say, or you die. It's that simple."

You stood your ground, staring the attacker straight in the eye. "I'd rather die than become a part of your sick game."

The attacker shrugged. "Suit yourself." They pulled out the knife and lunged towards you. He stabbed you, just above your heart. You felt you self-losing hope, even if this one wasn’t fatal, you knew he wouldn’t stop till you were dead. You felt yourself slump to the floor, you knew it wasn’t going to be long till you lost consciousness, you had no fight left in you.

As you lay there dying, you thought about all the people you had pushed away. You regretted not reaching out to them, not telling them how much you loved them. You wished you had spent more time with them, made more memories.

But it was too late for that now. You closed your eyes, accepting your fate. You wished that you had told Spencer how you felt, and you couldn’t believe that was going to be one of your last thoughts. You heard the man walk away. You felt so weak, you had nothing last. You just gave up, knowing that no one now would really care that you had gone.

Emily had grown worried. You hadn’t texted or called her back. She thought you would have by now. She decided to go to your apartment to check on you. As she walked up to your door, she could hear your phone ringing through the door. She knocked, but there was no answer. Worried, she used her spare key to let herself in.

As she walked into your living room, she saw your phone lying on the coffee table. It was Spencer calling, and Emily knew that something was wrong. She called your name, but no reply. She searched your entire apartment looking for you, but you were nowhere. She called JJ to see if she had heard from you, but the last she heard anything from you was when you were last in the office. Everyone else had the same answer when she called them.

She asked the team to come over, to see if they could spot anything she couldn’t. Everyone was worried about you. As the team arrived, they saw Emily pacing around the living room, phone in hand. She quickly filled them in on her worries and the fact that you were missing. She explained how you had called her earlier saying that you thought someone was watching you, and that you would call her if anything happened.

Spencer was the one to look in your bedroom, as he was searching, he kept thinking how he thought this was somehow his fault. He saw the pictures you had around your room of you and your old college friends, or family pets. But there was no evidence in there of anything. JJ had suggested that you had gone somewhere, but Emily said you wouldn’t go anywhere with your phone. Rossi tried to suggest that maybe you left your phone so that they wouldn’t be able to trace you, but Emily said that was stupid considering that call she had received earlier. Luke and Tara just kept pacing around your apartment, looking for anything, but they found nothing.

As the team continued to search your apartment, the sound of Emily's phone ringing filled the silence. She answered it quickly, hoping that it would be you on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" Emily said, her voice shaking slightly.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and then a voice spoke. It was distorted, and Emily couldn't make out what it was saying.

"Who is this?" Emily demanded, her heart racing.

The voice spoke again, and this time Emily could hear it more clearly. "You'll find your friend in an alleyway on the outskirts of town," the voice said. "But you better hurry. She doesn't have much time left."

Emily's heart sank as she hung up the phone. The team looked at her, fear etched on their faces.

"We have to go find her," JJ said, her voice determined.

The team rushed out of your apartment and into the streets, determined to find you before it was too late. They piled into their cars and sped towards the location that the voice had mentioned.

As they arrived at the alleyway, they saw a figure lying motionless on the ground. They rushed towards you, praying that it wasn't too late. As they got closer, they saw the blood seeping out of your body and onto the pavement. They knew that they didn't have much time.

Spencer checked for a pulse, and thankfully, there was one. They had to act quickly to save you. Rossi called for an ambulance, while JJ and Tara tried to stop the bleeding. Emily sat by your side, holding your hand tightly and praying that you would make it.

As the ambulance arrived, the team helped load you onto the gurney. Emily rode with you to the hospital, holding your hand the entire way. She couldn't bear the thought of losing you. She thought about all the times you had laughed together, shared secrets and dreams. She couldn't imagine a world without you in it.

As the doctors rushed you into surgery, the team waited anxiously in the waiting room. They didn't know if you would make it or not, but they knew they had to have faith. They sat together, silent, and scared, waiting for any news.

No one could bear the thought of losing you, you were always there for them. Not long ago you would have answered their calls and listened to them rant about everything and anything. Spencer, though, felt the worst out of all of them. He was good at his job, he had known for some time that you had feelings for him, and it wasn’t like he didn’t have any for you, but he didn’t want to lose someone else he loved. He silently cried, hoping you would make it.

As the hours ticked by, the team was filled with anxiety and worry. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the surgeon emerged from the operating room.

"Is she okay?" Emily asked, her voice trembling.

The surgeon sighed. "She's stable, but it was touch and go for a while. We managed to stop the bleeding, but the knife wound was deep. She's still in critical condition, but we're hopeful that she'll make a full recovery."

The team breathed a collective sigh of relief. They knew that you still had a long road ahead of you, but at least you were alive. They thanked the surgeon and waited patiently for you to be brought to a room.

As they sat by your bedside, they could see the machines monitoring your vitals. They could hear the steady beeping of the heart monitor, and they knew that it was a good sign. Emily held your hand tightly, tears streaming down her face.

Spencer watched from the corner of the room, his heart heavy with guilt and regret. He wished he had told you how he felt sooner before it was almost too late. He wished he had been the one to protect you from harm, instead of the one who inadvertently caused it. He knew he had a lot to make up for if you were to recover.

In the days that followed, the team took turns staying by your side, never leaving you alone for a moment. They brought you flowers, cards, and small gifts, hoping to bring some comfort during your recovery. Spencer was always there, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement. He was determined to make things right with you, to show you how much he cared.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you opened your eyes. You saw the team surrounding you, and Spencer's face filled with relief. You tried to speak, but your throat felt dry and sore. Emily handed you some water.

As you took a sip of water, you looked around the room and saw the worried faces of your team. You knew that something bad had happened, but you couldn't remember what it was. You tried to speak again, but your throat was still too sore.

Emily leaned in closer to you. "You were attacked," she said softly. "But you're going to be okay."

As the memories flooded back, you felt a wave of fear wash over you. You remembered the pain of being stabbed and the feeling of helplessness as you lay bleeding on the ground. But as you looked around the room, you saw the love and support of your friends, and you knew that you weren't alone.

Spencer leaned in close to you. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I should have protected you."

You shook your head weakly. "It wasn't your fault," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

But Spencer wouldn’t hear it. “But you took time off because of me, and don’t pretend you didn’t. If, if I had said anything to you, then you wouldn’t have done that and you wouldn’t be laying in this hospital bed.”

“Spencer, please don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault, and you didn’t need to say anything to me. Sometimes the person you love doesn’t love you back and that’s okay. But the man who did this got into my head and told me I was on my own, and that you guys didn’t care about, and that I pushed you all away. I’m so sorry for how I treated you.”

Spencer squeezed your hand. "You have nothing to apologize for. We're just glad you're okay."

You smiled weakly at him, grateful for his kind words. You knew that it would take time to heal both physically and emotionally, but you also knew that you had the support of your friends.

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unluckilyimnot · 2 months

Text

fixing the other's hairstyle to let their hands run through their partner's hair

Characters : isagi, reo, karasu, yukimiya, hiori, sae, rin, kunigami, nagi

Fluff

m.list || rules

Note: Charles being friends with shidou is really no surprise 😭 they're both menaces

isagi

is a smiley little pookie

never do your hair ‘cause he’s gonna ruin it and he doesn’t even intend to and he's SO sorry when he does

he wants to touch your hair all the time, brushing it away, make sure you don’t get it or eat it

he’s so oblivious about the fact that he KEEPS touching your hair

it’s always some “wait I’ll help you out” when you want to tie it (if you can), or “wait” and he brushed it away from your eyes

All. The. Damn. Time.

If your hair is long/shoulder length, he wants to brush it for you on windy day so you’re all pretty again

karasu

I see him as a gentleman who tease a little

so I think he tends to play with it a lot, twirling it around his fingers and then say it was to fix the strand

even more if you have curly hair or curl it yourself, it was losing its bounce a little, he helped :)

he doesn’t do it much outside, but when it’s just the two of you he likes it

ruffling it, putting a falling strand behind your ear/out of your view

he just loves the softness

nagi

it’s easy, he’s taller than you so it’s his favorite part and he doesn’t even try to find any excuses

he just touch it, even pet your head as if your a damn cat

he loves it if you have long hair, he can play with the end easily when he’s out of energy for the day

he can lay his head on top of yours and that’s generally, if needed, his excuse to touch your hair – inside, all alone or outside with people

he’s the type to brush your hair away of your face if it bothers him and he can’t see your eyes

kunigami

his best excuse is that he knows how to style hair thanks to his sisters so he can help effectively

he does your hair for you, I don’t make the rules

that’s his favorite part of getting ready, doesn’t matter where you’re going or if you stay at home

he LOVES breaking the curl when he just done it to make them look loose – plus you look amazing

tie your hair for you just to feel it between his fingers

and always has a hair tie to do so

he’s the best, he can do anything and if not : he’ll learn to

everything to see you smile

sae

he’s too serious for his own good when he’s in public, you like to mess with him

he freshly cut his hair and you can’t help but want to run your hands through it all day, it’s all soft and nice and he smells as good as always and –

he had to glare at you for you to stop your move, rolling your eyes, you left to get a drink

a hand find it’s way on your smaller back again and you roll your eyes

“Stop that would you”

“Cut your hair after next time” it’s his time to roll his eyes

“You’re impossible” and you returned him the compliment, this time ruffling his hair for good before fixing it and smiling

“I love you though” he narrows his eyes at you, taking a look around him before leaving a peck on your cheek

“Me too”

rin

you like to fix his bangs to bother him

putting it a little on the side to get a better sight of his eyes even if he hated it

or ruffling it until he can’t see anymore

annoying Rin is your favorite job on earth

this end up in a fight half of the time – and he always win, be for real

but deep down, he loves it a lot

this boy is touch starved, so you playing and touching his hair a lot make him feel better and loved

reo

he’s a tidy man, he knows what he’s doing and big gathering, brands and companies or not ; he just has to be perfect

and he’s glad to have someone around him ready to fix his look if needed

but you two haven’t left yet that you already fixed his hair a few time

“You can’t act like that tonight you know that ?” he chuckled as you, very cautiously, fix it once again

“I will if needed.”

“Was it needed all the time for the past half and hour ?” he asked in a smirk, tilting his head to the side

you blush at his comment and pout. “Maybe not…”

he doesn’t mind tho, you’re sweet and you love him sm you can’t help it

he feels the same, don’t you worry

hiori

casual date but he’s always making sure he looks cute for his pretty s/o

you two leave when the time is still clear and warm yet knowing that’s a windy day

by the time you arrive at your destination, a cute cat café that opens recently, your hair is a mess and you can’t help but whine

he’s quick to help you out, brushing his fingers through it to ease it before his own hair – not that it moved much

yet you brushed your fingers through his as well, giggling when you’re done and him thanking you, not knowing it wasn’t needed at all

his hair is so soft, you can’t help but push it away gently or hold it before a strand falls in his mouth while he’s eating.

“What’s up today ?”

“Nothing, I just don’t want you to eat your hair !”

yuki

you attend an official thing, like regarding commercials he worked in with some brand

he’s : on fleek, hair perfectly done, makeup on top, he looks handsome and that’s your man ? Damn

you have to be serious the whole, contain yourself, smile a lot but you really can’t help yourself, from time to time, to make sure that his outfit and hairstyle stay perfect

that’s your job right ?

It’s like the ninth time your hand keeps a stand of hair out of his sight, or to make sure it stays put together, it makes him giggle.

“Done ?” he asked in a whisper in your ear, his smile so easy to imagine on his face.

“What ? It’s in your face. I’m helping out.”

“You’re not. You’re clingy,” he pecked your temple. “but it’s fine.”

yes, he knows you just can’t keep your hand for yourself but he still finds it cute and endearing

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xxblairexxss · 8 months

Text

She’s in a good hand

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x exgirlfriend!reader

Theme : Light angst, fluff

It felt so lonely when your dad suddenly left you alone in this world. It felt like you lost the light at the end of the tunnel, it was until your ex boyfriend, Charles came back to your life to keep his promise.

Not proofread!

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"Charles, how long?" Riccardo called out the driver, who seemed to be very quite from the beginning.

He swallowed the tender meat from his dish, wiping his mouth with the tissue he had in hand. Charles hadn’t been participating in the group chat that much because this was his first meal of the day and he was starving. He skipped dinner last night because he hardly had any energy to cook anything. "How long, what?"

"Your break." Martha filled in on behalf of his boyfriend.

"Ah, just two weeks.” And just like that, the conversation ended, and he continued back to his meal while eavesdropping on the talk amongst his group of friends until one of the topics perked up his ears.

"Did you give Y/N a call?"

"Yeah."

"Is she doing alright?"

"No, of course not. She tried to sound bubbly just so I wouldn’t worry too much, but I know she still cries herself to sleep."

"He was all she had. I wasn’t even expecting her to be fine right away."

"Yeah, and she was really close with him too."

He wanted to say something but his body seemed to be making its own decision before he could make up his mind. Few of his friends looked his way as he cleared his throat, knowing very well he had something to say.

"What happened to Y/N?” He questioned, eyes went on the couple. Charles saw the way Martha gave a little glance to her boyfriend and pressed her lips into a thin line.

Back when he broke up with you, they realised that Charles wasn’t really comfortable when they mentioned your name, despite the fact that the breakup was on a good term. It had been a year since then, and he eventually accepted that regardless of whatever happened between you and him, you were still part of the group friends, and there would be times when they would mention and talk about you, especially Martha. She was one of your closest friends.

He hadn’t seen you since then. You had asked him to stop contacting you or you would never be able to move on with your life, so he did what you asked. It was hard at first because you were a huge part of his life and to wake up one day, having to carry on with his life without texting you, listening to your voice, hearing you blabbered about your favourite movies without an early notice was unbearable. Up until now, he wasn’t really sure if he had indeed forgotten you or he had his career that acted as his distraction. Either way, you had always been in the back of his mind.

"Mr. Y/L/N passed away last week.”

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flash

“I told her I couldn’t go on a date with him because I love you! “

Alcohol had always been a social lubricant to you. It always made you talk a lot more. Sometimes it made you talk too much that the aftermath made you unable to talk to anyone for a week because you were so embarrassed. Charles had been holding his laughter. He wished he had recorded everything you had been saying ever since he drove away from the club and let you listen to it when you were sober. But a small part of him was glad enough that out of all embarrassing things you could have talked, you had been telling him you love him over and over. He had been planning to confess to you for weeks now, but he wasn’t really sure if you liked him the same—more than a friend—but now that you had been prattling your love for him time and again, it wasn’t that vogue anymore. "Yeah? How much do you love me?"

"A lot! Like,” You brought up your arms and moved them in a circular motion. “this much! But I don’t know if you love me back, so I just keep it a secret." You tried to cover your flushed face with your hands and chuckled.

"I love you too.” He whispered.

"What did you say? Charles, I can’t hear you!” You leaned against his arm and hiccuped. "I wish you loved me back."

"We are here, bambi." You managed to hop off the car on your own, insisting you could walk without his help while he went to pick up your handbag and heels in his car.

"Hi, dad!, I’m so sorry I’m late.” You crashed and slump your body against the older man as Charles followed behind.

"It’s okay, honey. As long as you are safe.” He pecked you on the side of your head as you walked in, bidding goodbye to your best friends.

"Bye, Charles!" You squealed and hopped your way to your room, leaving him to face your dad on his own.

"Leclerc."

"Sir, I—um.”

"No hands?" The adult queried.

"No." Charles shook his head right away, as if vocally denying it wasn’t enough to persuade your dad.

"No lips? Tongue?"

"No, absolutely not. I’m completely sober, and I have two more friends, one girl and one guy, in the car. Here’s, um, her heels and handbag.” He confirmed before handing your older man the stuff you had left. "Have a good night, sir."

"Leclerc."

"Yeah?" He stopped in his track back to his car and looked back.

"Thank you for taking care of her."

"Of course. I’ll always take care of her. I promise." He nodded out of curtesy and made his way back to the car, continuing his way to send his other friends home.

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This was the third time the ringing tone rang over and over again from the start. He had been in front of your house, ringing your bells, for the past 10 minutes. His leg veins were all sore from standing it was as if he had a leg day.

“Are you sure she’s home? My legs are burning, bro. She’s not picking up the call either." Charles groaned and heaved a sigh. It felt as if he was going against the rule. He had asked his friends if it was okay for him to pay you a visit because the last time he tried to see you, you flipped off but that was a week after the breakup. It was solely for a different reason now. The friends were very supportive of the idea since everyone except him had sent their condolences in person.

"She hasn’t left the house at all! Just come back tomorrow, then. Maybe—"

He clicked on the end button right when the sound of the lock being turned came from the other side. "Y/N?"

"Oh, hi…"

You looked different, a gloomy kind of difference. You no longer had the sparkle in your eyes. Your eyes were droopy and puffy, as if you hadn’t had enough sleep, and the dark circle under your eyes was so obvious that it looked like a silhouette against the rainy days in Monaco. "I heard what happened. I’m so sor—“

"Sorry? Yeah, I have been hearing the same things from every single person since last week. I’m sorry for myself too. You can go now."

"Wait! Y/N, wait." He slipped his foot in between the small gap and held the door from closing shut. "I see that you do not want to talk right now, and I understand and respect that. But if you want to talk sometime later, I’m always here, alright?"

"Thanks, Charles."

He stepped back, and you closed the door, locking it back as he walked away. He didn’t need to come inside to know that the house was dingy, as if it were painted all over by a leader.

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He stretched his limbs, hands patting and slapping in every area against the duvet, trying to find his phone that was blasting the ringtone in full volume. "Hello…?" Charles leaned to his side and rested the phone on his ear so he wouldn’t have to hold it.

"Charles? Am I disturbing you?"

It was 3AM. Of course you weren’t disturbing him at all. "No? No, not at all. I wasn’t even sleeping.”He sat up straight away, yawning as he put the phone away for a second, in case you could hear it.

"What were you doing?"

"Sorry? Oh, I was working out.” He dipped his head, feeling the blood rush to his head from the abrupt movement earlier.

"At this hour?"

"Yeah. I have jet lag.” He had been here for days. If jet lag lasted this long, he would have been hospitalised. "Is there anything wrong, Y/N?"

"No… I just—" There were 10 seconds of stillness before you continued. "Actually, I don’t know why I called you. You can go back working out. I’m so sorry—“

"Hey," He cut on.

"…yeah?"

"Would you like to listen to me talk for a while instead? I got a few funny stories you might want to hear." Charles felt like his prayer was answered when you reached out to him. It wasn’t much, but at least the first thing that came to your mind in the middle of the night was to search for his name in your contact out of all people. To him, that was really meaningful. "I’m really good at telling jokes."

You didn’t reply.

"You don’t have to say anything. Just be present with me; is that okay?” Then he heard your soft voice on the other side.

"Okay.."

So he went on and talked for a while, though his brain cells had to open a few old books in his memory to recall some interesting stories, but anything to keep you company so you wouldn’t feel alone.

“Y/N, are you still here with me?" He thought you were asleep because he nearly did, though his mouth was conveying every words his brain could make up.

"Yeah."

“Are you sleepy?” Charles asked. It would be crazy to ask the question at 4AM to anyone else.

“No, not yet.”

Though your reply was short and he barely got any reaction, at least you were listening to him so he stayed up that night, telling her about how Lando made fun of his way of driving.

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You called again a few days later. Truth be told, Charles hadn’t been sleeping that well ever since you started calling him in the middle of the night. He was so afraid he would accidentally miss your calls that he even set an alarm for every hour of the night.

"Hi. Am I disturbing you?”

He was leaning against his headboard. Your call didn’t come as a surprise this time, so he didn’t sound sleepy at all. "No, not at all, Y/N. Do you—"

"Can I—" You spoke along with him.

"Go on."

"Can I talk about my dad?” Your voice trailed off. You had been wanting to talk about him. You wanted to talk about how perfect of a dad he was to you. To talk so proudly of him for hours. You refused to act as if he were gone. No, you couldn’t move on just yet. You wanted to tell everyone about everything he had ever taught you about life. You wanted to play pretend, talking about him as if he were still here.

But who would be willing to listen to a story about a random old man, someone who wasn’t important to them as much as he was to you? Someone who wasn’t a significant icon in the world. He was just your dad.

So you weren’t expecting him to say yes, and that was totally fine. “It’s okay if you don’t want to..”

"Sure! Tell me everything about him. All I know is that he was very scary, especially when he called my name."

You giggled. It felt forever since the last time you smiled; that it felt a little awkward. "He always said he did it on purpose because you would always freeze whenever he did that."

"For real? My legs went weak every time he went "Leclerc."" This had been the most words he had ever heard you say since he met you again.

"He would always peel the shrimp for me." You blurted, finding yourself smiling again. This was the first time you had ever spoken about him since he passed. Charles, on the other hand, tried to stifle his yawn by cupping his mouth. "Because of that, I would never order any dish that had shrimp or prawn if I wasn’t with him because I didn’t want to peel them on my own."

You heard him laugh on the other line. "Do you know how to peel your own shrimp?" He jested.

"I think so. It’s been a while since I peeled them myself. I should probably start learning how to do it myself.”

"Have you learned how to tie your shoelaces?” You heard him query, laughing right after. He remembered how you would always ask him to wait because Mr. Y/L/N hadn’t tied up your shoelaces yet. He had taught you the step by step, yet it felt like the most complicated thing ever so you never tried it again.

"Of course! I have always known how to tie them."

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"Coming!"

You ran to the door as soon as the bell went off while still struggling to clip your earrings on. You went with a printed shirt and bootcut pants in black, paired with your hair tied up in a ponytail. This was the first time in what felt like forever since you dressed up this well. Charles had asked you to join the rest of the group for a casual lunch, and you had been M.I.A. since the date so the only right thing to do was to say yes. "Is this okay?”

"It’s more than okay, Y/N. You look stunning. Ready?" His heart swelled with pride, seeing how much improvement you had made. Charles was told you hadn’t leave the house ever since what happened and he wasn’t hoping for you to agree with his offer. Not only you said yes, you were also looking forward to it.

"Ready." You exclaimed and halted your steps before bumping against his chest as he abruptly stopped.

"Wait."

"Why?" Your head tilted along as he crouched down to pull your shoelaces loose. Your cheeks were flushed because you even went on internet and tried to make it perfect but judging on how quick he was to realise about it, you felt a bit like a fool. It was a bit of a waste of time as well. You should have just went with a heels or flats. “Oh, did I tie it wrong? It’s okay, Charles. I can do it on my own."

"It’s okay to ask for help, Y/N. There you go. You did it perfectly. I just made it tighter.” He patted on your head soon as he was done with both sides.

He was lying. You knew it because your shoelaces looked neater now—way different from when you did it.

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"Y/N, we missed you!” Martha screamed and pulled you into a tight hug. It had been nearly a week since the last time you met up with her. It didn’t sound that long but it was long for you and Martha who could never went more than 2 days without seeing each other.

You were a little taken back from the way they were celebrating you that some of the other customers were looking at your way. Charles saw the way your cheeks went pink as you looked to your side that he had to step in.

"Okay, that’s enough. Don’t humiliate us in public.”Charles pulled your seat on his side while the rest of the group settled down. The waiter handed him the menu and he passed you on to to as they carried on with conversation and meals while both you flipped on the pages.

"I think…I’ll just take polpette al sugo.”

"They have prawn linguine. I thought that was your favourite?" He called out the waiter and looked back at you for confirmation, seeing the way you weren’t quite sure with your decision but you chose to stick with it.

"No, I don’t feel like eating that one."

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"Why did you order that?"

"Oh, this?" He took a spoonful of the linguini and shrugged. "I don’t know. Guess I wanted to try it out?"

When the foods arrived, you saw the waiter handed your favourite food, the prawn linguini to Charles when he had never ordered anything that had seafood in it. "But you don’t like seafood?"

"Doesn’t mean I’m not up to try a new dish.” He calmly replied, and before you could argue again, Riccardo called his name to ask about his new car.

You always made the wrong decision in life. Let it be from choosing your part time job, to choosing your prom dress, to choosing your major in university. Today wasn’t an exception too. The dish that you ordered wasn’t good enough. It was okay, but it didn’t give you the contentment as much as you thought it would. So you had been eyeing non other than the linguini in front of Charles.

You thought you were being subtle until he switched his dish with yours; with all of the prawns peeled. It was done instantaneous while you were rolling the meatball around so the the fork in your hand were dropped in surprise. “Take mine.” He said, before looking back at the guy on the other side of the table and took a bite of the meatball in front of him. You picked up the fork which he had twirled with the pasta and stuffed it in your mouth. Your hand immediately went to your filled mouth and stifled a giggle.

"Is it good?” He leaned his head against his hand, grinning from ear to ear while he stares at you as you take another spoonful of it.

"It’s really good! Can I take this one?" You poked one of the fresh, plump prawn he had peeled and pointed it on his face.

"Take it, precious. I don’t like seafood."

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Charles came by early in the morning with a bag full of different ingredients that it felt like you were prepping for a housewarming party. Today was your dad’s birthday, and you were supposed to be having a father and daughter date like always, but this was the first birthday without him, so you didn’t know what to do—whether you should celebrate it or if it turned into a normal day in your calendar now that he was gone.

"What are we doing with these? Are you trying to cook something?” You asked, taking out milk, herbs, butter, and all sorts of stuff from the paper bag.

"We are making chicken pesto lasagna.” He bent over the kitchen counter and took out his phone. You saw, he went on his notes and scrolled through the words that he had written in it.

"Why?"

"Because it’s something you used to do with your dad?” He went around the kitchen, looking for something in circle, until you handed him the chopping board. "Let’s make it a tradition for his birthday."

"But I don’t really know how to make it. He was the one who did all the cooking.” You took out red onions and garlic for him to start chopping.

"It’s fine. I studied the recipe last night, and it shouldn’t be that hard. Look." Charles scrolled down his notes, and you saw what was written in bold and labelled as ‘tips’. "I even got some extra tips from people on the internet."

"How did you know we used to make this on his birthday?"

"You mentioned it once. A few years ago. If I’m not mistaken, it was his favourite, yeah? And that was why he liked making it on his birthday because it felt extra special when he made it with you?” He lifted his arms high when you threw yourself against him. "Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry—"

"Thank you. I really appreciate everything you did to me, Charles."

He rested his chin on the crown of your head while his hands were holding a knife on one and an onion on the other. "Anything for you, precious. Anyway, I don’t feel comfortable having you judge my back while I cook; do you mind leaving the kitchen to me?"

"No. Let’s do this together. Can I see your notes?” He went back to chop and dice as he pushed the phone to your side. It felt like you were seeing something you shouldn’t have when you accidentally flicked your finger up on the screen, revealing your picture as his wallpaper on his home screen so you immediately clicked back on the notes before he was it. There were two files in the notes. You clicked on the one that was labelled as ‘Bambi’, where you saw he had written down everything you have ever said to him, your favourite colour, favourite food, your first pet, and down below on the page which looked like it added recently was what your dad used to do for you, what you had told him in a phone call few days ago.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

After the whole war in the kitchen, the lasagna turned out to be really good. You wouldn’t have thought the end product would taste that delectable because he didn’t seem to be very sure of every step he did, though it was all based on the recipe itself. It was a while after the lunch was then you asked him to accompany you to see your dad before the day ended because you wanted to wish him a happy birthday in ‘person’ and here you were, standing in front of your dad’s tombstone with Charles.

"Hi, dad. I know you don’t like me going out when it rains, but I promise I won’t be that long.” You crouched down and brush the dead leaves on the stone before placing a bouquet of fresh flowers. "Happy birthday!" You tried to sound joyful because you promised you wouldn’t cry. Not when you have someone else with you this time but you choked back on your tears as soon as you felt Charles’s hand on your shoulders, giving it a squeeze every so often. "I made your favourite food with Charles, and I think he could snatch your best chef title soon."

“Don’t say that. He’s not gonna let me take you out on a date again.” You laughed at his pleasantry and rested your head against his chest. "Sir, I know I broke your trust when we broke up but she was the one who forced me to break up with her.” You giggled and pinched on his waist as he winced. “But you don’t have to worry about Y/N. She’s in good hands. I’ll always take care of her like I have promised you."

“We’ll come back again soon, right?” You looked up with a smile. The tears that was burning your waterline was gone now. It felt like his hug completely consume your being and it was the second most comforting feeling in the world, second to your dad’s hug.

He rubbed on your back with his thumb, pulling you closer as he closed his eyes. Hugging you felt like heaven in his arms. “I’ll bring Y/N here whenever she wants to see you. You got my promise again, sir.”

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl @boiohboii @formula1mount @judespoision @alwaysclassyeagle @scenesofobx @mrsmaybank13 @vildetry06 @harriesgolden

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst

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on-leatheredwings · 1 month

Text

House Arrest

Yandere! Batfam / Bruce Wayne x (Fem!) Reader

For a request, Munchausen's syndrome by proxy with Bruce? Like, he keeps reader sick so she can't leave him or interact with someone outside the family. And maybe the rest of the batfam is in on it?

[a/n: Didn’t know if you wanted this platonic or not so I didn’t specify! In my head its romantic with bruce though lmao]

> word count: 1581

> Tw: gaslighting, munchausen’s syndrome by proxy, yandere-typical behaviors!

You sit in anticipation, foot tapping against the stone floor. There’s an entire miniature hospital set up for you down here in the Batcave. Respirators, diagnostics machines, and other expensive medical equipment that would be better served in Gotham General.

Helping people recover.

So patients could some day leave.

You used to love being in the Batcave. It was the family’s little secret. When you officially joined the family, the Batcave was now your secret as well. But ever since falling ill months ago, bedridden with a sickness whose cause continues to elude everyone… being here is depressing. You now notice it’s damp down here. Dark. Lifeless.

Bruce sits at the Batcomputer, the screen’s light painting over his face in a green wash. You watch his eyes scan line after line of your results. Reminds you of a typewriter. Methodical. Orderly. Nearly inhuman. When he sighs, your heart stops.

Fuck.

He turns to you, face grave. “You’re still ill.”

Your eyes start stinging with an onset of tears that you furiously try to blink back.

“... H-How ill? How bad? Am I any better?” you ask, as if bartering with him will make the situation any different. As if bartering with God ever made any difference for mere mortals such as yourself.

Bruce’s face is still.

“You haven’t improved.”

Your hopes crash down around you like glass. You aren’t better at all? Even though you haven’t had a fever in weeks? Even though you’ve been working out with enough energy to keep up with Damian? He was exerting perhaps only 10% of his effort, but still. Your lymph nodes aren’t even swollen anymore. Tim had told you as much, accidentally contradicting Bruce’s insistence that they had been earlier that morning.

“But I feel better,” you croak. You hear footsteps behind you approach and you swallow drily, nearly hissing at the offender. It’s Dick, and damn him. You don’t want to be placated right now.

“Are you experiencing any headaches? Shortness of breath?” Bruce asks, eyes still trained on you. You try to recall.

“... I may have had a migraine this morning…” At Bruce’s weary shake of the head, you blurt, “But it’s passed. I’m perfectly fine. And no shortness of breath.”

“... I’m sorry. But if you’ve been having symptoms like that, along with your being immunocompromised…” Bruce doesn’t even have to finish the sentence. You won’t be leaving the Wayne Manor grounds for a long time.

Fuck.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. You look up and see Dick, whose face is somber but offers an encouraging smile.

“Well, I’m back in town for the time being. We can hang out all the time.” His expression brightens as an idea pops into his head. “And I can call Tim, Jason, Duke–! Maybe even Cass and Steph… We can have a board game night tonight!” He sounds as chipper as you are miserable.

Damian approaches from behind, leaving the shadows. His arms are folded. “If that’s the case, I’ll humor Grayson and let him capture some of my fleet for once.” A popular choice was Risk, perfect for the family who’s entire lives revolved around combat and strategy. But you didn’t want to play Risk again. You didn’t want to have a board game night, no matter how many of the family came. You wanted to see people.

Other people. Everyone here is your family.

You want fucking friends again. You wanted a job again – a sentiment you would’ve laughed at even just five months ago. You wanted any semblance of a life again.

Bruce’s eyes haven’t left your trembling form once, two chips of slate-gray peering over steepled hands.

“Thank you, Dick. Damian. But I think she could use some time alone.”

Dick’s hand releases your shoulder, retracting as if burned. None of them are the boss here. It’s Bruce who is my warden, your mind whispers darkly.

“Right! Don’t want you to feel overwhelmed.” Dick sees himself out, taking Damian with him. “See you tonight.” And that feels like a sentencing to your fate.

Now the two of you alone, Bruce stands, offering his arm wordlessly. You know what this means. You take it, linking yours with his without thought or protest. Bruce liked to ensure you were always within his reach, as if you were prone to fainting spells. This was less humiliating for you than him carrying you through the estate, you suppose.

“Why, yes, let’s take a turn around the grounds!” you used to exclaim, making your voice posh and British, mimicking the regency romance movies you had been watching all the time.

Now, months later, you just sullenly allow him to lead you. Your surroundings pass by and you vaguely recognize that you are exiting the Batcave, walking through the manor, and out into the never-ending expanse of a well-kept lawn.

It’s a sunny, idyllic spring day after months of overcast winter.

And thank god you could still traipse outside when you wanted, even if fenced in. Bruce told you when you had first fallen ill that he had installed some high-tech, anti-air pollution gadget. Wayne Manor was effectively your own personal bubble. Fresh air was the only thing keeping you sane, lately.

You two pass by the garden, a labor of love Alfred started. You and Damian tend to it now… and mainly the latter, these days. You haven’t had any energy for gardening as of late. Fatigue is a symptom, you hear Bruce’s voice whisper in the back of your mind. But you don’t feel fatigue… rather, just depressed. But of course, isn’t fatigue a symptom of being depressed…? A familiar brain fog crawls into your mind. Your head was starting to hurt.

You look across the lawn, onto the horizon. Gotham’s dark skyline sits there, enticing. When night falls, it’ll glimmer and twinkle with light. There is a whole world out there. And, God, you love the Waynes, but they aren’t the world. You need to distract yourself. Bruce, ever the lover of pleasant silences, is going to have to distract you from thoughts that make you want to leap off the second story balcony of your bedroom.

Should you ask, “How’s work?” No. You find you don’t care.

“How’s Jason?” you say instead, feeling Bruce stiffen at the mention of his most tenuous relation.

He wasn’t around as much, but when he was, he was always relaxing with you in your room. You have a whole shelf for the knick knacks he brings. “Don’t worry. They’re clean,” he’d snort at his former mentor, because Bruce required everything to be thrice sanitized before coming into your possession.

“... Better.”

You’re glad. That’s one good thing, you guess.

“Bruce,” you croak.

He looks at you, face alight in expectation.

“Maybe I should just go,” you say, small and weak. Your eyes don’t leave the sight of Gotham skyscrapers, stretching to the sky. Bruce stills, stopping you both in your tracks.

“What do you mean, ‘go’?” he says carefully.

You remove yourself from his arm and gesture to the city. “Just go. Leave. I mean, I can’t stay here forever.” Bruce looks genuinely confused, as much as he can.

“Of course you can.”

“No, I can’t!” you screech. Frustrated, you tear at your hair. “I can just be an outpatient somewhere– I can go for hospital treatments every week– or everyday– whatever!

Bruce places his hands on your shoulders.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Rage flares in you and you gnash your teeth at him. By now, that all-too-familiar brain fog has flooded your brain. But you try to fight it. You have to fight it. Like trying to crawl out of rapidly-sinking quicksand, you fight it.

“I-I know what I’m saying. I’m saying–”

“You’re saying to just let you die,” Bruce sharply returns. “To give up, let you die, and leave us to grieve.”

“No–”

“Stephanie.”

You meet his eyes again at the name, which are resolute and as blue as ever.

“Cassandra. Duke.” Your stomach churns, imagining their smiling faces, turned into ash as your hypothetical passing. “Barbara.”

“Bruce,” you croak, pleading inwardly for him to stop.

“Damian.”

“Tim.”

“Jason.”

“Dick. Alfred.” You duck your head and your eyes meet the ground. The listing of all your loved ones pinches your heart, and you feel nauseous. You weren’t trying to leave them. You didn’t want to leave them at all.

“... Me.”

Your eyes sting with tears again. Why did he have to make it sound like that? Like you were seeking some selfish want, rather than trying to improve your quality of life. You feel your ambition and desire wane under the weight of guilt. You feel all sense of struggle start to disintegrate, lost to the fog in your head. Lost. You’ve lost.

Bruce’s eyes scrutinize you.

“As I suspected. You’re acting delirious. Manic. Delusional.”

Any semblance of protest dies in your throat.

“What?” you say. But Bruce is already leading you away towards the looming doors of Wayne Manor, away from the green of the grounds. Away from the light of the sun, and away from the skyline. He comforts you with familiar lines on the way to your bedroom.

You need rest. Alfred will brew his tea for you. I’ll call the kids to come tonight. We can play Risk. He pats your shoulder, stroking soft, deceptively warm circles with his thumb.

“You just need some rest.”

And not for the first time, you believe he may be right.

#yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #tw gaslighting #bruce wayne #mine

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goldengleams · 2 months

Note

🫧 Can you write #15 with Quinn Hughes? Thank you!! :)

the proposal - q. hughes

A/N: Once again, college has been so busy that I haven’t had any time to post 😭 Hope you enjoy this, it’s more of a real imagine than a blurb to make up for the long wait! Love you guys :))

You woke up to the summer breeze rustling through your curtains. Your afternoon nap had replenished your energy from your morning out on the boat with Quinn. You had arrived at Quinn and Jack’s lake house just a few days earlier, and Jack had arrived last night. Now, you were waiting on Luke to get in this evening to round out your little group.

You stretched out to find the bed empty, but your hand brushed a piece of paper on Quinn’s side of the bed. To Y/N, it said. You blearily picked it up and read the message inside.

Pick you up for dinner at 6. Dress fancy :)

Love,

Quinn

You giggled at the note, at how adorable it was. You and Quinn were literally staying at the same house but his little plan made you smile. This summer would mark the fourth year that you and Quinn had been together and the first since you two had moved in together. You couldn’t imagine doing life without him anymore.

You picked out a light green slip dress from your closet, one of Quinn’s favorites on you. With the two hours you had left, you put on some makeup and did your hair. You loved that Quinn always made spending time with you a priority in your relationship, even when you had gone on just about every date imaginable.

You walked downstairs at 5:45, not sure what to expect. Jack was sitting at the kitchen counter, scrolling on his phone. He looked up immediately when he heard your heels clicking on the floor, grinning at you like a five year old with a secret.

“Why are you smiling at me like that, Jack?” You chuckled, a little suspicious.

“No reason!” Jack said quickly. “But Quinn will be here soon, he just texted me.”

You nodded and pulled out your phone to check. Quinn had also sent you a message that you had missed.

From: quinn❤️

On my way, see you in a few

You said goodbye to Jack and went to wait outside for Quinn. Before you left for Michigan, you had gotten your nails done and made sure to pack some of your favorite outfits just in case a special night like tonight happened. You raised your left hand and your various rings shone in the light, but your ring finger still remained bare. You let out a sigh, trying not to get your hopes up in case tonight wasn’t the night. After four years together, you knew Quinn was the one, you just had to wait for the big moment now.

Quinn pulling up drew you from your thoughts a few moments later. He honked the horn of the beautiful cream colored vintage convertible he had rented for the night. He hopped out and came to walk you to the car, giving you a quick kiss.

“There’s my gorgeous date for the night,” he said proudly. His comment made your cheeks heat up and you marveled at the way he could still make you blush, even after knowing him for years.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, especially in this fancy car,” you said as he opened your car door for you. Quinn had always been a gentleman to you, it was one of the things you loved most about him. He never failed to make you feel special.

“So, where does this mystery date take place, Captain Hughes?”

Quinn just shook his head as he drove. His hair was blowing softly in the breeze and the summer sun highlighted his features beautifully. You were so gone for this man.

“Can’t spoil the surprise just yet, babe.”

Twenty minutes later, Quinn pulled up to a small restaurant right on the lake. He led you inside and the hostess quickly brought you to a table in a small gazebo, right near the water.

Quinn quickly pulled out your chair for you to sit in and you giggled at his actions. He had always been chivalrous, opening doors for you, pulling out your seat. It was something you had never experienced from guys before Quinn and now you hoped you’d never have to live without it.

You reached for his hand across the table once he sat down, yearning for his touch. His hand found yours and he smiled.

“Hi babe,” he said quietly. It was only the two of you for a good twenty feet, so you couldn’t hear anyone else’s conversations, and you doubt they could hear yours, but leave it to your Quinn to still be soft spoken and sweet.

“Hi Quinny,” you said shyly. “Can’t believe you got a spot here for dinner.”

Quinn knew this restaurant was one of your favorites. It was the place three years ago where he asked you to be his girlfriend. You had an inkling that he had an important question for you tonight.

“Yeah, just wanted to bring you back to where it all started,” he said. “Remember when I asked you do be my girlfriend? I was so nervous that day.”

You could tell he was nervous again and almost started to tease him about, but a waiter came up before you could ask. The meal got underway and you didn’t get to bring it up again. The two of you talked about anything and everything, just like you always did.

Quinn had checked his phone a few times during dinner, typing away on his screen before returning to the conversation.

“Something important on there, babe?” You asked.

“Uh, just some texts about hockey stuff,” he smiled back nervously. You knew he was always busy with captain duties, but you had a feeling that he wasn’t actually texting anyone about hockey. Regardless, you nodded and finished your dinner, which was absolutely delicious as always.

The sun had started to paint the sky hues of pink and purple and you smiled at the beautiful view of the sunset over the lake. This could be the night that you become Quinn’s fiancée. The thoughts swarmed your mind and sent tears to your eyes. You loved Quinn so much, you just didn’t want to wait any longer.

“Y/N?” Quinn drew you from your thoughts.

“Hmm?” You tried not to act like you were totally distracted, but it wasn’t easy. Quinn titled his head like a confused puppy.

“You alright? You looked sad,” he said.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about us,” you said, smiling at him. “I’m the luckiest girl ever.”

“Well, I’m the luckiest guy ever.”

You could tell Quinn got a little startled at your words and how close you were to tears. He thought you had figured him out. He ate the last few bites on his plate as you did the same, and asked if you wanted to go down by the restaurant’s dock with him.

“Sure, but can I run to the bathroom first?” You asked, and he stood up quickly to pull your chair out for you so you could go inside.

“Uh, sure! I mean, yeah, of course, I will just wait here,” he said, tripping over his words.

He watched as you started to walk away from the gazebo and towards the main building and he hastily pulled out his phone. Clicking Jack’s number, he prayed his younger brother would answer in time.

“Yo,” Jack answered.

“Get back in the car or hide or something! She’s coming into the restaurant right now!”

Quinn heard a few curses and some bottles clinking as he assumed Jack and Luke were trying to get up from the bar or a table and get out of the restaurant.

“She’s going in the door near the ramp, so don’t go that way or she’ll see you.”

“We’re not, we’re outside on the patio,” Jack snapped. “You’re bossy when you’re nervous.”

Quinn rolled his eyes. He could make out two tall figures over on the patio deck who were waving at him. Jack had gone to pick Luke up from the airport and they both made their way to the restaurant, along with a photographer, to see their brother propose.

“I’m not nervous, I’m just,” but Quinn didn’t have an answer. Truthfully, he was nervous. He knew he had waited quite a while to propose, not ever doubting your relationship, but just waiting for the right moment. Quinn knew there were plenty of moments in Vancouver where he could’ve pulled out the ring he had picked out for you last year, but none of them seemed right. He wanted to propose to you at the spot where you became his girlfriend, with the beautiful lake and sunset in the background.

“Yeah, exactly,” Jack and Luke chuckled. “We’ve got the photographer waiting, she’s also excited. You got this, okay? She’s gonna say yes, she loves you, Quinn.”

Jack’s words calmed him down a little, and before he knew it, you were walking out of the restaurant. He quickly dropped the call and watched your dress shine in the evening sun. He couldn’t believe you would be his fiancée tonight.

Quinn stood to greet you, reaching for your hand, which you accepted.

“Look at how sweet they are, Quinn,” You passed by a few tables with some older couples, and your heart swelled in your chest. You hoped that would be you and Quinn someday.

Quinn just squeezed your hand, not able to say anything due to the lump in his throat.

“I hope that will be us someday, coming to the lake house and spending summers together.”

Quinn nodded and led you up the ramp, letting you go first so he could locate the photographer who gave him a small wave and thumbs up to indicate she was ready.

“Oh my god, Quinn, look at the sunset!” You walked to the edge of the dock, gazing out into the sky. You were so enamored that you didn’t realize that there were fairy lights adorning the wooden posts on the dock, which weren’t usually there. They twinkled in the waning light, and Quinn wished he was able to see how they lit up your face.

He kept a little distance between the two of you, standing to the side, just like him and the photographer had practiced the day before. Quinn reached into his pocket to grab the little velvet box. He quietly knelt down to your left side as you turned to the right and waited for his moment.

“Oh shoot, I think I left my phone at the table so I can’t take a-,” you said, turning to your left where you had felt Quinn’s presence. Unsurprisingly, he was there, since you could always tell where he was, but shockingly, he was down on one knee, staring at you.

“Quinn,” you said breathlessly, your hand coming to cover your gaping mouth.

“Y/N, I knew from the moment I met you that it was love at first sight. I knew that you were special, and that I would be lucky enough just to be your friend and have you in my life,” he said shakily. “I never thought a girl as beautiful and intelligent and perfect as you would ever walk into my life, but I’ve been so lucky to call you mine ever since.”

You couldn’t help the tears that welled in your eyes at this point. You had hoped for this moment for years, and there was no stopping the emotions now.

“I’m so grateful that you support me in my dreams and my job and I’m the proudest guy on the ice every time I know you’re up in the stands cheering me on. I could’ve never made it to where I am without you in my life, and I hope you know how much you mean to me,” Quinn said, getting choked up. “You complete my family, my life, and myself in a way that I didn’t think was possible, and I don’t ever want to do life without you.”

“I know I waited a long time to ask you this question, but I hope you know I just wanted everything to be perfect. And I thought asking you here, where it all began, was as perfect as it gets,” he said, opening the small box in his hands.

“Y/N L/N, will you marry me?” Quinn could barely get the words out of his mouth before you were nodding enthusiastically, your whole body shaking.

“Yes, Quinn, yes,” you said urgently. He chuckled nervously and placed the beautiful ring on your left ring finger. You had never put on a piece of jewelry that felt more right.

You pulled Quinn up to kiss him, and finally registered the clicks of the camera and the cheers coming from the restaurant, led by a pair of brothers you knew all too well.

“I knew you were planning something,” you giggled against his lips. “I love you so much Quinn.”

“I love you too, Y/N. Can’t wait to call you Mrs. Hughes someday.”

——————————

A/N: After seeing Jack and his gf this weekend, we all need some Quinn and Luke to heal😭😭😭 Hope you enjoyed this!!

#nhl hockey #nhl #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes being the cutie that he is #quinn hughes again #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #umich hockey

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e-m-ma-lmfao · 8 months

Note

PLS YOU NEED TO WRITE MORE FICS ABOUT ASTARION the one you did was so good and cute ☹️☹️ i love it

Let Me Clean Your Wounds

pairing : astarion x (fem) reader

summary : a long week of hard work leaves your party tired and injured. you offer to clean astarions and to your surprise, he accepts.

warnings : talk about blood.

a/n : thank you anon :0 i STILL have not played baldurs gate (so i apologize again for my lack of knowledge).

It had been an incredibly long week.

It started by someone in the party pointing out that you had no more money left. So you had to spend your days doing odd jobs for people in the nearby town.

However, a few of them had failed to mention the fact that their job requests could end up harming you in more ways than one. An easy job, like gathering fruit for an old lady who can’t venture out that far anymore, suddenly turned into fighting a hag in the woods for trespassing on her property.

The compensation received was hardly enough for the injuries you and your party would gather on your bodies throughout the day.

As powerful as your group was, being caught off guard by some giant creature in the woods left you at a disadvantage. And when calmly mentioned to the people of the village, suggesting that their pay be higher for sending you to do such strenuous tasks so they wouldn’t be attacked themselves, they threw their arms up to you.

Calling you greedy and saying you were trying to steal their gold. Of course that didn’t sit well with the nearby guards, and while jumping to conclusions without any investigation, you were thrown in a cell. Not all your party, just you, as the leader.

You weren’t released until a member of your party persuaded them, using the gold you had just earned from the townspeople’s ridiculous jobs.

So you packed up your camp, and ventured out to find another village. One where you hadn’t been put behind bars for scheming and trying to steal gold from the elderly.

When you found a nice spot, and a town that looked to have more than enough gold to go around, you set up camp in the nearby woods. The townspeople were less than friendly, but at least they were honest about their jobs.

They made it abundantly clear that they would not be handing out charity and that you had to work for the gold you earned. That turned out to be a challenge after a few jobs had been completed , and it had clicked that your party has been consistently acquiring injuries over the last few days.

Your party was down in power. You were lacking in energy, and it was showing in the way your attacks would fly but often miss or hit with not much force behind them.

So after completing one last job, and buying some fresh meat from the town, you decided to rest. Finally caving into the exhaustion, you felt almost weak when Lae’zel complained about stopping. But nobody else seemed to have any complaints.

Lae’zel was hasty to eat, along with almost everybody else in the party. They got a fire started and the warmth hugged your body, but while scanning over everyone’s face you realized just how rough your condition had become .

Everyone seemed to be holding up all right, you weren’t too worried, but as you looked in closer you noticed Astarion was seated farther away from the fire picking at his skin.

Curious, you left the warmth of the fire and wandered over to him.

“Mind if I sit?”

“No, well, not much. But I don’t think you’d listen if I said I did.” You shook your head at him before taking a seat beside him.

His face was pretty bruised up, cuts on his cheek and lip. And his arms were covered with scratches that it was continuing to pick at.

You took another glance before standing up and walking back over to your own tent to grab some bandages, your flask of water, and a rag of some sort to wipe his wounds. When you came back he stared at you with amusement in his eyes.

“What exactly are you planning to do with all that, darling?”

“You're covered in cuts, have to clean them up so they don’t scar your pretty face. Let me clean your wounds?” You tried not to let the pet name have any effect over you, but you were sure your thoughts were showing through your cheeks. His hand moved to touch his cheek, as if he didn’t believe that he truly did have any injuries, wincing as his finger brushed against a larger cut.

“You’re seriously worried about me when you’re in the same condition? For the love of the gods , you were thrown in a cell this week and you're truly worried about some cuts on my cheeks?”

“May I?” You held the rag up in your hands, pouring some water over it. He nodded, hesitantly of course, but he allowed it anyway.

Gently, you placed the dampened rag over his cuts, wiping away at the dried blood and layer of dirt covering his pale skin. His brows furrowed, the sight causing you to let out a giggle. Usually, Astarion was very closed off, so being this close to him and him allowing you to help him was sort of new to you.

“Why are you laughing? I’m in pain and your ..giggling?” He tried to be stern and serious, his usual facade, but a small smile was playing at the corner of his lip.

“I’m sorry,” You let out another giggle as you swiped away at his skin and his eyebrows furrowed once more, “It’s just cute, I’ve never seen your face scrunch up like that.”

He seemed to pause, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you. You were being serious. You thought he was cute, when he was covered in blood and dirt. Him showing a little weakness , you thought it was cute?

“What? I know my face is probably dirty.” You rubbed at your cheek with your free hand, conscious of your appearance as his gaze lingered on your face. He didn’t care though, he was too busy thinking about your words.

“Cute is an absurd word to use when describing someone like me. I’m too handsome to be described in such ..simple terms.” His smirk returned to his face, your mouth now agape unsure of whether he was serious or not.

“C’mon now Astarion, I never said you weren’t handsome. I just said you were cute with your face all scrunched up like that.” The rag sat in your lap, his face was clean, his cuts just needed a little cover up.

“So you do think I’m handsome?” He leaned in closer , his voice captivating.

“Well I never said that either.” You placed your hand on his chest to distance yourself , ripping off a piece of the bandaging in your hands and manipulating it into place on his cheek.

He wore a subtle pout on his lips but when you moved in close and kissed his cheek, in a moment of boldness, it soon fell away.

Astarion’s hands brushed against your own, taking the damp rag and pouring more water onto the other unused end.

“My turn, darling.” The rag, making contact with your skin, made goosebumps appear on your skin. It was colder than you expected, and you knew there had to be small cuts littering your face by the way it stung. Your face must have tensed because he took his turn to laugh at you.

“You know, you are very beautiful, even with your face all scrunched up.” He was mocking you. obviously, but his voice mixed with his compliments made your cheeks flush.

A final swipe along your cheek and he pulls the rag away, “There. All clean, my dear.”

His hand reached out to cup your cheek, but before the act became too intimate, he changed his course and ran his hand along the side of your hair to flatten it down.

“You really are quite pretty .” He knew his words had such a serious effect on you, as you never tried to hide the fact that your feelings for him were far from platonic interest. It was so weird seeing him be so friendly, and flirty in a way that wasn’t meant to manipulate.

“Would you stop? It’s not nice to tease y'know.”

“And who told you I was teasing, my dear? Was it Lae’zel cause I’ve always thought she might have a thing for me.” He laughed at the end of his sentence, joking. “I would never tease a woman as pretty as you, that would be very cruel of me.”

“Do you want to join me by the fire?” His gaze shifted to look at the group seated around the fire, he seemed to ponder before looking back at you with furrowed brows.

“I can smell their horrible odor from here.” You huffed, pushing his shoulder. He looked once more, and seemed to ponder some more but his face was hard enough to read when he wasn’t looking away from you.

Astarion groaned, ringing out the wet rag still sitting in his hands. “That is not an answer, Astarion. I’m cold, and the fire looks so nice.”

“Fine, if we must, we can go,” You smiled down at him as you stood but it was replaced with a look of shock when he pulled you to sit back down, “On one simple condition.”

You rolled your eyes, “What could you possibly want from me?”

He stayed silent for a second, but as he noticed you becoming increasingly impatient he began to speak.

“A kiss. Not a petty one, and not on my cheek. I mean a real one.” You were flush in the face once more. He seemed totally serious, a permanent smirk painted on his face, but his eyes stared into your own without any sign of humor. You honestly thought he might be mocking you.

“Okay. I can do that. Easy, but only if you’re nice and say please.”

“Now who’s teasing.” You only stared at him, sternly. If he wanted to act like a child, and demand rewards in order to complete simple tasks, then you could tease him like one. “Fine. Please…pretty please.”

Your eyes widened, you didn’t think you had ever heard him say please to anyone, let alone add in a “pretty”.

He didn’t move, he was entirely dead set on this. His face was close enough to yours that you didn’t have to shuffle very far. As gently as you could, in case he decided that he was joking and pulled away, you placed your hands on his face.

One hand cupping his cheek, fingertips rubbing at the hairs falling delicately in front of his ears, the other near the bottom of his cheek and holding onto his jaw. Slowly, you pulled him in until your lips met his. You still weren’t entirely convinced that he was serious, but when his fingers entangled in your hair and pulled you in deeper, you had a hunch that he might not be joking.

He didn’t let you pull away until he was entirely satisfied. Your breath was heavy, and your skin was hotter than before in multiple ways.

“I haven’t had a meaningful one in a long time, darling. Thank you.”

“Should we go sit by the fire?” You stood up, legs wavering before stiffening, and you offered him out your hand. He took it in his large one, following you to the fire, sitting beside you. There was a heavy silence, causing you to look around and see everybody's eyes already on you.

“What?”

“If you guys are gonna keep sucking each other's faces, could you please do it in a tent? You made me lose my appetite.”

#astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bdg3 #baldurs gate x reader #x reader #female reader #oneshot #drabble #fem reader

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daycourtofficial · 1 month

Text

Forever is the sweetest con

Cassian x reader, Azriel x reader

Summary: based on this request - the war with Hybern claimed the life of your husband. Reeling with grief, you discover that you’re pregnant. His brother and your friend, Azriel, begins spending more and more time with you, finding solace in each other amidst your shared grief.

Author’s note: sadness, sadness, sadness, this one took me ages to write bc it’s so fucking sad 😭 I’m not super happy with this bc I was mostly trying to meet the deadline so this might feel disjointed bc I had to kinda skip around a lot. Also I didn’t tag this as Cassian x reader in tags bc it felt too painful to do that

Word count: 3k

Warnings: character death, unexpected pregnancy, honestly just sadness

“I’m Cassian.”

A large, handsome male greeted you as you were shelving some new books away. His large outstretched hand reached towards you, waiting in the air for a moment as you set the stack of books in your arms down. Your hand gets lost in the warmth of his, telling him your own name.

He smiles at it, repeating it, testing it on his tongue.

For days, that is the only memory playing in your head. It is what you think of as you lay in your shared bed, his scent still lingering. It is what you think when Feyre picks you up, and her and Mor place you in a bathtub as they clean you. It is what you think of as you stare at the ceiling, hoping it will collapse on you.

It is what you think of as you stand between Rhysand and Azriel at Cassian’s memorial. It is what you think of as they lower the casket into the ground, the citizens of Velaris standing around to pay their respects.

You don’t notice the hundreds of people who come to offer you a silent nod, a gentle prayer over you, their voices carrying gentle choruses of “he was so brave” and “you should be proud”.

You’re too numb for any of this. You’re too numb to recognize the hand Azriel places on your back, or the hand Feyre clasps into your own, squeezing tightly.

All you can think about is how his hand felt in your own the first time you held it - warm, gentle, comforting. And how it felt the last time you held it - cold, lifeless, gone.

Being a war hero came with a cost.

Only Cassian didn’t have to pay it - those he left behind did.

You’re not sure how much time has passed since Cassian died. You’re not sure if the people of Velaris still mourned him, or were simply wearing the traditional colors of their court.

You sat in one of Cassian’s old tunics, piles of clothes scattered on the floor around you. Your back was to the wall, its cool surface warming with your heat.

You hear movement in the house, but you don’t have the energy or ability to care who’s here.

Someone knocks gently before coming into the room, Azriel’s large frame coming through the door to your chambers. He sees the slightly ajar closet door, and shimmies his way in, sitting next to you amidst the pile of clothes on the floor.

He notes that they all seemed to have been pulled right off their hangers, in a fit of rage or desperation perhaps. Shades of black and red litter the floor, and the realization that it was all Cassian’s clothes causes him to take in a deep breath.

You two sit for a while, Azriel’s wings likely cramped in the small space. Mother knows Cassian complained if he spent more than five minutes in your closet.

Azriel just sits in silence, his shadows gently swirling the floor, searching through the piles.

For what, you’re not sure.

You finally speak, the words hard to form. You didn’t speak much these days - your voice a rare sound for your family’s ears.

“He doesn’t need them to be hung up anymore.”

Azriel sighs, shifting closer to you. He gauges you, looking for a reaction before moving a bit closer.

“He never needed them hung up. Before you he mostly just left his clothes strewn about the room. Drove Nuala and Cerridwen mad.”

You look at him, pulled from your trance of that black shirt Cassian wore when the two of you went on vacation in Adriada. The shirt that fit him so well the two of you did not see the beach at all for the five days you were there.

“They’d complain, saying every night he’d pull his clothes that they neatly hung up and the next morning they’d be strewn about his room,” he shrugs, still confused over how Cassian kept track of where everything was.

“Eventually Rhys told them to stop and to let Cassian do what he wants. No idea how he managed to stay neat and tidy with you.”

Your eyes meet his, and he reaches out a hand for you. It’s the first offer of help you’ve accepted in days. You keep his hand in yours for a long time, sitting amongst Cassian’s clothes.

You were sitting on the small balcony of your home, looking out at the expansive night sky above you. Elbows on knees, collapsing in on yourself.

Eyes red rimmed, tear tracks marking your face. You had never felt so helpless or as hopeless as you did now. Your eyes snag on a dark figure, soaring through the skies, its body getting closer and closer.

Azriel had taken to checking on you every three days now. Make sure you were eating, washing, and moving. Honestly if it weren’t for these biweekly check ins, you’re not sure how you would be faring.

The Illyrian descends next to you, a soft landing as he tucks his wings back in and sits next to you. You two sit in silence for a while, the sounds of the night a melody playing for just you two.

Velaris is dark, few fae lights scattered throughout the city aglow. You breathe deeply, taking in the smell of Azriel next to you. You should tell him, but you haven’t been able to tell anyone all week.

It was eating you up - you knew they’d be supportive, you knew they’d love you and help you in anyway they could. But it would still break their hearts just a bit more.

Your internal debate is ended by the overwhelming turn of your stomach, your lunch from earlier wanting to make a quick exit. You hurriedly get up, running towards your bathroom and throwing yourself on your toilet, narrowly reaching it in time.

Azriel ran after you, making quick work of grabbing your hair before you began your second wave of vomiting. The only sounds in the room are your retching and Azriel’s soothing tunes.

His other hand gently rubs your back as you feel as if you’re going to die. From embarassment or pain, you’re not sure. He waits for you to say what he already suspects, having noted a subtle shift in your scent when he arrived.

You wipe your mouth, not wanting to say the words aloud. The words that Madja had told you three days ago, the words that caused you to shut down until now.

“I’m pregnant,” you say, head leaning against the toilet seat. “All Cass wanted was to be a dad. Now I’m pregnant and he’s dead.”

A forced laugh comes from you.

“It’s not fair, Az.”

Your words hang in the air, and your friend responds by wrapping his arms around you, and pulling you into his lap. He nuzzles his head into your shoulder, his breath shuddering as he cries softly into your hair.

The two of you lay there, the cool bathroom tile digging imprints into your skin as he holds you, tears streaming from both of you.

Several months along in your pregnancy, and Azriel has essentially moved in with you full time. He takes meticulous care of you and the babe - he goes to your appointments with Madja with you, he goes baby shopping with you, he even put together the crib in your room.

He was your late husband’s brother. He was stepping up, knowing that Cassian would want him to help you. And yet your dreams wouldn’t stop being so perverse.

For the past month, every night without fail you dreamt of Azriel. Every dream was different - some of places you’ve gone before, places you only know of because Azriel described them.

The dreams were weird and disorienting, but you left them there. They were dreams.

About how beautiful he was. About his hands, his wings, his shoulders, his thighs.

Every day you’d wake up full of shame at where your mind takes you against your will.

“Az,” you say, a serious look on your face. “Something’s wrong.”

He looks over to you, glasses perched on his nose. The knife in his hand clatters, landing on the cutting board, a piece of carrot tumbling to the floor as he moves to you quickly.

Your breathing becomes more shallow, and you hold your hands out, reaching for his. Once his fingers reach yours, you bring his hands to your bump.

Just as he’s about to ask what the problem is, he feels a soft thump against his scarred hand. He can’t control the soft laugh that comes from him, and he can’t help but cradle your bump just a little tighter.

He looks back up to you, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“I thought something was wrong.”

You smile, “I know - that’s what makes it fun.”

Almost eight months had passed since Cassian’s death, and you were finally able to hear his name without breaking down. Azriel was the only one you would talk to about him, though.

It felt right to talk about Cassian to Azriel. It felt right to plunge yourself back into the memories of him - his boisterous laugh, his insistence on touching someone at all times, his presence in rooms.

It felt right, and the babe in your belly would kick frequently whenever Azriel spoke to you about Cassian, as if they knew who you were talking about.

It felt so right, and yet so wrong. Every night before bed you replayed the memories of the day, desperately trying to insert Cassian into Azriel’s spot in them.

He never fit perfectly into them, the edges of him not quite the right size.

This was too much.

You were an absolute fool to believe you could do this. To not only birth but to raise your dead husband’s babe. Who let you do this? Who thought this was a good idea?

“Hey.”

Azriel’s voice vibrates through you, pulling you from your thoughts, his large frame behind you. Your back pressed to his chest, his arms helping hold your legs up.

You lean your head against him.

“This was a terrible, terrible idea.”

He smiles, “Cassian never was known for good ideas.”

Your face contorts in agony, a strong cramping pain rippling through you.

Azriel takes the wet cloth from the nurse to his left, holding it on your forehead. “I’m so proud of you. You’re doing so well.”

You scoff, “if I was doing well, the babe would be out by now!”

Azriel takes your jabs, your sarcasm, the intense squeezing of his hand in yours. He’ll take everything you throw at him.

After about eight hours, you were blessed by the cauldron with a beautiful boy, tiny wings clinging to his back as he cried.

Azriel’s presence didn’t stop after the babe, Camden, was born. If anything, he spent more time with you. He delegated much of his work as spymaster to support you, even going so far as helping coordinate schedules for Feyre or Nesta to help you bathe.

In the first few weeks, you were able to move around, but you were utterly exhausted. Not just the physical demands of your babe and recovering from birthing a winged babe, but also the emotional toll this took on you left you unable to care much for yourself.

You had thought being bathed would make you feel like a burden, but Feyre and Nesta did everything to make you feel so loved instead. They lit candles, rubbed your back, and told you how proud of you they were constantly. Their words never failed to make you cry, the task at hand feeling impossible if you thought about it too hard.

Eventually, after weeks of sleepless nights, feeling like nothing more than a cow for milk, you and Azriel were able to settle into a routine.

He took care of the babe at night, allowing you decent sleep. He brought Camden to you for his middle of the night feedings. You took care of Camden during the morning through early afternoon while Azriel attended to his duties. The two of you cooked dinner together, Azriel always insisting on washing dishes afterwards.

After a while, it all felt so normal. As if Cassian was never meant to be here for this part.

A few months after your son’s first birthday all Hell broke loose. It was a regular day. The sun still shone as it always does, your son was as beautiful as ever. Azriel was holding Camden in the air, helping him stretch out his wings, when he spoke for the first time.

A soft dada accompanied the little boy’s giggles, followed by Azriel stiffening immediately. You looked to the shadowsinger, and when his eyes met yours, you knew.

As if a golden thread appeared out of thin air, tying a knot from Azriel to you, you could feel him. You pulled an experimental tug in the bond, and he pulled back.

Wide eyes meet each other from across the room, silent except for Camden’s continued giggles. You stare at him bewildered, your expression mirrored back to you on his face.

A high pitched noise starts ringing in your eyes before everything goes black.

“It’s a bit of a cruel joke,” you say. “I want to love him, I want to be with my mate. But what kind of person does that to her deceased husband?”

You had woken up in Rhys’s office twenty minutes ago to your head in Feyre’s lap, her hands gently running through your hair.

You had heard bits of hushed conversation, and you thought you had heard Az, but when you came to, he was nowhere to be seen.

Rhys looks contemplative before saying, “you of all people should know that Cassian would have wanted you to be happy.”

You put your head in your hands, gathering to courage to say your worst thoughts out loud.

“It feels like Cassian died for me. I know he didn’t, but I can’t help but feel like if he had survived, would Azriel still be my mate? He would have let me be with him, yes, but just.”

You sigh, trying to grab the fragmented thoughts in your head and place them together. Rhys lets you, allowing silence to fill the room.

“It would have killed him having to watch me choose Azriel over him. He would have done the respectable thing, he would have stepped back. He would have been happy for us.”

You sigh, “but if it were the other way, if Nesta or Elain were his mate, I’m not sure I could give him up.”

Your words come pouring out quickly before you begin sobbing. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. His hands wrap around your head, and he gently smooths your hair down.

“Feyre and I are immensely happy for you, despite the circumstances. Both of you. I know you might not feel like it, but you made your own family.��

You found Azriel a few hours later in what used to be his room in the townhouse. He hardly stayed here, hardly stayed at any of Rhys’s estates anymore, opting instead for the comfort of the home you two now shared.

“Hi,” you say tentatively, stepping through the door.

“Hi,” he echos back, turning to see you.

“Crazy day,” you say, pulling lightly on the bond. He cracks a smile, but there’s a sadness deep in his gaze that you haven’t seen in months.

He moves towards you, slow and deliberate steps, as if you were a bunny found in the woods easily scared off.

“Do you want this?” He asks, eyes focused on your own.

You nod your head. He nods back.

“I dreamt of you. For months, years even. Since about halfway through my pregnancy, you’ve been in my dreams most nights.”

He watches you speak, letting you say whatever it is you need to. You take a deep breath before continuing.

“I don’t want to forget Cass, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re replacing him. I can love both of you.”

He steps closer, slowly moving towards you until he’s stopped right in front of you, his wings blocking you in.

“It’s unconventional, I understand. And I understand if you don’t want a widow with a child.” You look up towards him, determination in your eyes. “But I am all in.”

He gently cups your cheek, eyes full of conflict. “It won’t be easy,” he muses.

“Nothing about this has been easy, why start now?”

His face slowly moves closer to yours, his lips gentle against your own. His hands still hold you gently, as he kisses you long and slow.

There would be time for passion later, his kiss now is full of the emotions words can’t convey. Adoration, sacrifice, immense grief.

You thought having Azriel kiss you would make you feel like you were betraying Cassian. Instead you feel an overwhelming sense of rightness as your hands cup his jaw back, pouring every ounce of you into him.

You and Azriel look out at your backyard, watching Nyx and Camden run around, play fighting with their swords. The two boys occasionally take short flights, only about a foot or so off the ground.

Azriel wraps his arms around you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You close your eyes, letting yourself feel this moment, allowing the sounds of the boys playing and your mate’s breathing to lull you into some form of peace you never thought you’d find again.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #acotar writing #azriel x y/n

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yxami · 11 months

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Aaaarg I haven’t been able to send anything cus life’s been so busyヽ(；▽；)ノ

BUT OMGGGG HARU IS SO ADORABLE!! I ADORE HIM ALREADY! Can we please get some nsfw headcanons or scenario for him? Whichever you’d like better!

-🌸 anon

I was thinking about writing some nsfw about him lmaoo 🤭

description: yandere bunny hybrid x fem reader, soft yandere, nsfw, nsfw cannons, smut, etc etc.

The two of you had made a deal as roommates, don’t be an ass if you’re bringing somebody over to your room. Agreeing on the same thing helped when either of you wanted to relieve some stress with someone.

Dates being brought over were no trouble, until Haru started having a problem with it. Now that he wasn’t avoiding you and only greeting you when he had to, he liked being around you. He liked solely being with you in the apartment.

He didn’t want anybody else coming over anymore. He just wanted your attention, and he didn’t want you focusing on anyone else!

Once he brought up this topic, you were bummed out that he wasn’t okay with it anymore. It actually made you curious on why he didn’t like it. Was it the fact he didn’t have someone anymore? Or maybe was he trying to go home and not hear your moans in the other room.

You didn’t ask any further, and just agreed. He was probably just uncomfortable with it now. And that was half right, he just didn’t like that you were with someone else instead of him.

He took it upon himself to ask to be your fuck buddy, to help you please yourself and you’d do the same to him. It was a win win situation, no feelings would happen and the two of you would just be having fun.

Obviously the feelings part was a lie, he had a big fat crush on you. He wanted you to love him and play with him, he was up all night just thinking about asking you it.

You thought it was a great idea! It was better than having to go on a date with someone, or having someone catch feelings right after one simple night stand. You shook his hand as a humorous way to agree and called it a deal.

This is how you encountered all of Haru’s dirty habits.

You learned that he was a greedy bunny in all parts of his life, maybe even more in bed. He was a pillow prince who demands to be the center of attention.

He would happily lay back, allowing you to pump his cock up and down with little kitten licks along his tip. He’d be a huge brat and tease but if you were threatening to finish the session right then and there he’d whine and play nice in order for you to continue.

He loved when he got a full view of you riding his cock so beautifully. He would observe your every face and make sure to thrust in which spots you loved best so he could make you happy.

If he was in heat he would bend you over any counter, bed, or surface that was available. He’d have a hard time not touching you when he was filled with such warmth through his body that begged for yours.

Haru would overstimulate himself as he begged you to take all of him, his energy was never ending and only seemed to stop after he came four or five times. His moans and whimpers only increased with your body slamming back onto him for the hundredth time. He would always make sure that his cock bottomed out inside you.

He would cry if you were deciding to go to work instead of helping him with his red throbbing cock. Once you got back, he’d jump at you, sobbing that you left him and to never do it again or he’s running away.

He would pull at your clothes and shamelessly hump your leg if you weren’t paying attention to him enough. To say he could become more of an attention whore was imposible.

Until Haru surprised you, knocking on the door and scratching at it if you went to the bathroom. His sniffles would be your warning before the waterworks happened.

You’d have to help him! He was just a poor little bunny boy who needed help with his heat, you’d help him out! Right?

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clockmax · 10 months

Text

﹒𝐗-𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 | 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐄 𝟏﹒

← previous | next → | ﹗𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹗

pairing: dilf!Miguel O'hara x babysitter!fem!reader

Summary: In a AU where his marriage doesn't work anymore, he spends time away from his house. In turn, his 'wife' hired you to keep watch over Gabriella. But soon, a infatuation bloomed between someone who you couldn't have.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI. infidelity, mentions of divorce, age gap(19-31), drinking, no use of y/n, oral(f receiving), p in v, mating press, praising, slight breeding kink if you squint, not proofread uhh thats it i think

w/c: 3k

You stood outside in the cold night, the sounds of crickets and other sorts of bugs in the night kept you from silence. It was cold, body shivering as you held your jacket close. Your breath was visible, the cold nipping at whatever skin was left exposed. Your body was flushed from the drop in temperature, winters air cruel. You were absolutely freezing. Yet you stood outside, watching as Miguel counted a stack of 10 dollar bills.

“40.. 50… 60..” The man mumbled, fingers sorting through the cash, “ 70.. 80, there.”

His hands moved to your own, placing the cash in your shaking hands. Fingers find themselves delicately sorting through the cash, double counting. Miguel Looked down at you, watching as you re-counted the cash.

“That’s the agree amount, right?” He tilted his head, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yes-” *You nod, putting the cash inside your purse.

“Then that’s your pay, I hope Gabriella wasn’t too much trouble.” He gave himself a small chuckle, putting his wallet away.

“It was nothing, really, she isn’t any trouble at all, sir.” For some reason you just couldn’t take your eyes off him, watching his every movement. You felt your body almost become warm against the weather, heart beating faster than it was before. Christ, you couldn’t get more embarrassed on the inside about it though. A crush on your boss’ husband? Really? Even your friends poked at you for that.

“There’s no need to be modest, I know she can be a handful. Kids got so much energy that she doesn’t know what to do with.”

His hands shuffled back in his wallet again, pulling out another 20, “There’s an extra 20, ‘cause I know,” Handing you the bill, giving a small playful wink.

His eyes happen to wander your body, looking at how you shivered and tugged your jacket closer, freezing hand putting the 20 with the rest of the cash. There was a slight twinge of guilt for having you outside when it was this cold. Muttering something to himself in spanish before he headed for his front door, turning back to you.

“Would you like to come in? I don’t want to leave you in the cold.” The offer felt a little weird, out of place for him. I mean he wasn’t your boss, his ‘wife’ if you could call her that was. But hey, practically the same thing, right?

“Are you sure?” You asked, looking up at him. The offer was still a little strange.

You two didn’t really talk much besides work and a few personal questions, but those were usually 2 minute conversations before you were on your way. Still, none of that stopped your eyes from looking at Miguel whenever you had the chance. It was a stupid crush, really. He was a married man with a daughter, plus he was older than you by a long shot.

“It’s no worries, I’d rather have someone to talk to while I drink much rather than drinking alone.” Miguel opened the door, holding it as you entered inside.

“Thank you.” You nodded, taking off your coat.

You tried your best not to let your emotions get the best of you. All he needed was someone to talk to, nothing more. Yet your mind couldn’t help but wander with thoughts that, even if you were being interrogated, would never say out loud.

You settled yourself in on a nearby chair, watching as Miguel walked over to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of whatever he was drinking, you couldn’t read the bottle, not from a totally different room. Soon enough he walked over to the couch, sitting down with his glass.

“Will your wife get mad that I’m still here?” You asked, still a little hesitant.

“Don’t worry about her, she’ll be gone for a long time,” His hands held his glass, taking a sip from it before setting it down, swallowing the liquid, “That’s how it’s been since she met her yoga instructor.”

You tilted your head, confused at the situation. You knew from what you were told that there was a rough patch in their marriage, but didn’t expect to be greeted with cheating.

“Aren’t you mad?” Mumbling a little, still hearable though. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” You quickly ducked your head, looking down in embarrassment for asking such a question.

Miguel let out a sigh, taking another swig of his drink.

“No, I’m not mad. Our marriage isn’t what it was, so we don’t really care about who sees who.” Taking another drink of the alcohol, the liquid running down his throat.

You moved your head back up to look at him,mind running wild with that. I mean, if they don’t care who sees who, you could make your move? But still, weird. He’s technically your boss, and still married, and with a kid. You’re just the babysitter, someone trying to make money for college.

“Nevermind. What about you, how is college coming along?” He asked, trying to change the subject from that of his now broken marriage.

“Rough, barely making enough with as many jobs as I have to pay tuition.” Leaning back in your chair, hands balling up in your lap.

“Hope every penny is worth it. Everyone where you’re at is probably struggling too, don’t get in a fuss over it.” Miguel's eyes looking over your frame once again.. Eyes looking at your thighs for maybe a moment too long before looking back up at your face.

“I know I know, but some people are just so care free, able to go to parties while I’m wondering if I’m gonna be able to stay at college.” You whined, upset about the financial situation you were in.

“Some people are just better at hiding it then others. I struggled in college, even being financially stable now, I was in student debt too,” Miguel sighed, “Look the message is a struggle always has a solution… 7 years of fatherhood and I still can’t give any good dad advice, if you can call it that.”

Miguel found himself getting another sip of his drink, getting up to get another glass full.

“You should relax though, don’t stress too much. Never does any good.” He’d tell you from the kitchen, refilling his glass.

“I’m just worried I’ll never get anything done if I don’t hyperfocus, forget what I need to do because I get too caught up with free time.” Your thoughts were racing, your worries about your current life situation flooding out of your mouth.

“No no, get what you need done too. Just don’t let it take over your down time. You’re young still, a whole life ahead of you.” Walking back to the couch, taking a seat again as he took yet another drink, “You got a boyfriend?” He asked, nonchalantly, no hesitation.

“No,” You mumbled, a little embarrassed.

“No?” Miguel Repeated, “I’m surprised.” “Why?” You turned your head, a puzzle expression painting your face.

“Cause you’re a young, pretty girl on campus, and no varsity jacket has come to take you away?” It sounded almost as if he was joking, teasing you for it. But he meant no harm.

“No, not yet. They already have themselves a girlfriend or something.” You sigh, sinking back into your chair.

“Yea times have changed, but, there’s probably a guy out there waiting to say the right things to you.”

How you hated that sentence. Another guy. You wanted Miguel, deep down you wanted him, but you couldn’t have him. Not at this moment, at least. Not only could it put you out of a job, but complicate things. And what if his wife catches you? He said that she doesnt care, but what if she cares that the person she employed is sleeping with her husband? I mean, why would she? Their practically divorced anyways. Or maybe you’re just thinking too much. Your body tensing up.

“I have my eye on someone, actually. Just having troubles about it.” You confess, looking down, kicking your feet.

“Oh you do? That’s rare. And troubles? Yea, I get that… Okay, what’s he like?” He questions you, sitting upright and fixing his posture.

“He’s older,” You start off, hands shaking a little. Were you really about to do this? Tell him how you feel? I mean the doors open for you to tell him, it’s only a matter of how he’ll react.

“Older? Like his senior year?” Miguel took notice of how tense you were, gaze softening a little. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“No.” You bluntly respond.

“Okay so not that old, I hope he’s nice to a sweet girl like you.” Miguel offered a faint smile, leaning back into the cushion.

“He has a kid-” You usher out, mouth speaking faster than your mind.

For a second, Miguel is taken aback. That old? Seriously?

“Has a kid? At that age?” I mean, for anything it could have been a toddler kid, no way a full kid at that age he was thinking of. “Well.. as long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.” He took another swish of his drink.

You gulped, body shaking as you tensed up, mind feeling dizzy from the whole situation. “No he’s not my age, what I mean is-”

But you were quickly cut off, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Yea, I got the hint.” Miguel looked at you, face stone cold as he held his glass.

“Listen, uh, I’m flattered, really. But uh, that would be weird, right. I mean, that would be taboo even. I’m too old for a sweet heart like you. Don’t you have anyone on campus you’d rather be with?”

His expression was stone cold, and you sunk back into your chair. Not you really regretted yourself for telling him this. How you wish the ground would just swallow you whole right now, or simply pass away on the spot.

“No, I just- I can’t get my eye off you and-” Quickly shutting yourself up, biting your tongue. You swore you were biting hard enough to draw blood, mentally cursing yourself for making this a conversation. He was right, Miguel was too old for you. But yet here you were, admitting those stupid feelings that you should have never brought up in the first place.

“But what about your parents, certainly they wouldn’t approve? Hell, Dana would have a fit if she smelt your perfume where it doesn’t belong. Let alone knowing her divorcing husband is with, uh..” Miguel sighed, slumping, hand on his elbow as he clenched his glass so hard he could probably break it if he wanted to.

Miguel sat back up, chugging the rest of his drink down before setting the glass on the coffee table, beckoning you over to him with his finger. “Come here,” He told you, almost as if it was a order.

Within what feels like minutes of you moving through the room, air thick with tension as you make your way over to him. Yet no sooner does he have you sitting under him, frame tower over yours.

Both of your lips were practically glued to each other, tongue exploring each others mouths as his hands felt up your body. You couldn’t help but feel his up too, hands tracing over each and every one of his well toned muscles.

Miguels hand moved under your shirt, grabbing one of your breasts. His hands fondled the soft skin of your tit, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You let out a whine, muffle by the kiss. You felt your juices start to form a puddle in your underwear already, thighs clenched together to give your clit some friction.

When he finally pulled away, eyes looking at yours. Christ this was wrong, but there was no stopping now. Miguel kissed down your neck, taking off your shirt. He kissed your breasts, sucking on them too. Making his way down your stomach, gently biting as if to mark it, hands working at your pants, tugging the material down and away. Getting on his knees infront of your legs, hands pulling them apart by your inner thigh.

His eyes took a moment to look at your cunt, how pretty it looked, how your juices were moving past your slit. His eyes moved black up to you,

“You sure about this, Corazón?”

It was without hesitation that you nodded, opening your legs more, almost presenting yourself to him. Miguel quickly became fixed on your pussy, tongue licking a stripe between your leaking folds, tasting your sweet arousal.

“Taste so sweet.. Didn’t take you for someone who likes older guys.” He mumbled against your clit, sucking on the bud. His hands moved to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh as he moved you closer to his face, burying himself in your cunt.

He licked and sucked on your clit before moving down to lick your juices from your folds, tongue moving inside your soft walls. Miguel was eating you out like you were his last meal, arousal coating his mouth and dripping down his chin. You just tasted so sweet, he couldn’t get enough of it, groaning in your pussy, tasting you like you were some sort of desert.

Miguel kept eating you out, noises almost sounding pornographic. He took in every moan and whine that left your mouth, feeling how his cock hardened just from the thought of being inside you next. You were so tight on his tongue, walls squeezing and contracting. You felt your orgasm approach, stomach tightening into knots. It wasn't long as he sucked on your clit, juices gushing out of your slit as your back arched, Thighs squeezed around his head as he kept licking up your juices, hand squeezing your ass. After a few more licks, he moved his head up , leaning over you again as he unbuttoned his pants and removed his boxers, cock springing free.

“This is what you were after the whole time, isn’t it?” Miguel cooed, grabbing your legs to fold them up, knees practically meeting your chest.

He lined his tip up with your entrance, slowly sinking himself in. It was a tight fit, almost too tight, sinking himself deeper into you. You whined and moaned, hands holding at his thigh.

“Ease up for me, pretty girl.” Miguel moved one of his hands down to your clit, rubbing the swollen tissue as your walls slightly eased up, taking the advantage to put himself balls deep inside of you.

He let out a groan once you clenched back down on him, hand moving back up to hold your other leg up. You looked up at Miguel through lidded eyes, mind clouded with lust. God, did you feel so full. His tip was prodding at your cervix, a vein gently pressing against that spongy spot inside of you.

After a few seconds, his hips started moving. A fast yet not too rough pace. His hips snapped against your skin, the faint sound of clapping as well a few curses under his breath mixing in with your moans. Fuck, he was in too deep, and you were already cock drunk. Your hands found their way to his head, pulling him in for a heated kiss.

Your noises were muffled in his mouth, the squelching sound of your pussy getting stretched out by him taking up the noise. How good it felt to finally have Miguel's cock in you, how many times you dreamed of this, touched yourself to the thought, yet the real thing was even bette.

“Good girl, taking me so well.” Miguel Praised, forehead touching yours, looking at how your pupils were blown wide, legs gently shaking. You couldn’t help but clench around him from the praise, letting out a mewl as you moaned again. Your second orgasm was building up already, and fast.

“ ‘m so close-” You moaned, the pleasure feeling almost too good then it’s supposed to. This was so wrong, yet, it just felt so right.

“Go on, come for me, be a good girl and listen, hm?” He’d whisper, pace picking up slightly.

Miguel felt his own high approach, letting out a groan as he trapped your lips in a kiss again,the grip on your legs getting slightly rougher, pace getting rougher too. His dicktouched all those special places inside of you, juices coating his thick cock and dripped down his balls, some dripping onto the couch too.

Before you knew it, you were both coming. Walls tightening around him, practically milking Miguel dry as thick, hot ropes of cum painted your walls. For a few moments, you both stayed like that, coming down from your high.

The reality then set in of what had just happened. His hands moved away from your legs as he pulled away from your body, eyes looking at your pussy, how he dripped out of you.

“Sorry-” You mumbled through your panting, body hot from the adrenaline, eyes looking down at the small mess.

“No it’s okat- let me uh, let me get a towel..” Miguel replied, fixing his boxers back on. He was only gone for a few moments before coming back with a towel, gently cleaning up the mess. Miguel folded the towel, gently placing you on top of the soft material.

The rest of the night was a blur, head reeling from the events. All you remembered was eventually landing in his bed, laying next to him. Miguel was fast asleep next to you, and you laid awake. All you could do was try and process everything. You slept with the person you had a stupid crush on, but also slept with a father, with a (almost non) married man. Oh you weren’t supposed to do that. What about morals? God this was such a stupid thing. You put your feelings over thought, and now, you were going to land yourself in such a difficult situation. Falling in love with someone who you couldn’t have.

taglist: @pandoraslxna @deputy-videogamer @its-paprika @yuuuumii @buggiecrawls @l0vedi3n @projectdreamwalker @urbimom @chshiresins @1tsk1tty

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rabbittwist · 1 year

Text

Harsh Directive

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Summary: Holy shit this Drabble took way too long to make.

Word Count: I don’t even know.

MASTERLIST | Simon “Ghost” Riley

WARNING [blindfold, fingering, orgasm denial, rough sex, doggy style, creampie, creaming, slight knife play, slight choking kink, long drabble]

Operation: Via was a success.

The harsh week of cold and rain had settled in your gear nicely, your firearms in desperate need of a cleaning, and your knives looking pitifully dull. Your skin felt dry, covered in a layer of grime from not having a shower in so long, and your hair was definitely greasy, and flatter than when you had left. You needed a wash, some food, and resting time to get yourself back in order. Sure, the carrier gave you two of those three things, but the comfort of base was calling your name and singeing itself well into your brain; your own bed, your own food, your own— well, semi your own, shower— were the only things that would satisfy you, and you were willing to wait the next 3 hours of flight to reach your gratification.

You silently sat with your arms crossed and legs spread, leaning back into the aisle chair while purposefully pressing your back into the buckle to keep yourself in discomfort. You were refraining yourself from dozing off, maintaining a kink-free neck and back from the horrid sleeping posture you would surely put yourself in; you refuse to go through that torture ever again — training with a sore spine was a bigger pain than what you had anticipated, and the aftercare was difficult to manage when it’s just you massaging the bolts out of your neck and back. You grimaced at the memory of barely being able to climb out of bed and slide your uniform on, slowly gazing up to the roof while holding in a chuckle from the next flashback of almost falling while shoving your pants on.

Your eyes fixated on the lights above that lit the fuselage in a dim glow, aircraft nets swinging gently with the plane and knocking on the walls with soft clatters. It was quiet, unusually quiet, until you heard a loud snore croak in front of you and being followed up with another. Quirking a brow, you turned your attention to your front and on Gaz and Soap, who were completely knocked out in the seating across from yours. Gaz’s arms slumped crossed, and had his head tilted down to his twined legs, while Soap was widely spread and fully tilted back towards the ceiling.

Had it been any other situation, you would’ve laughed at the sight of their drooling faces and horrible postures, but the overwhelming drowsiness took over your complete being and left you oddly calm and collected. Just the sight of them made you envious of their sleep, but you would rather be safe than sorry in the long run during one of Price’s excruciating trainings. You blinked slowly away from the sight and to the cockpit doors, fighting the urge to nod off and instead pinching yourself with your vest’s clasps.

“Arrival will be in two hours. Weather is gloomy with possible heavy rain, so prepare for a stroll, lads. Again, arrival will be in two hours. Out.”

Price’s voice disturbed you aware, leaving you a bit more alive and conscious from the startling overcom. The static undertone helped waken your eyes as you heard it go in and out, tired tears pearling into your lashes from the sudden energy surge to stay aware, and soon being wiped away by your scarf. You felt lightly gleeful that home was so close, only needing to remain awake for— counting the time it would take to walk, as well— 2 and a half hours. You could do that.

A small smile formed on your lips, a hand bringing your scarf up to cover it and allow the subtly present scent of your detergent to sink in through your nose. Home. You were going to be home. You wouldn’t have to smell like dried blood and muddy earth anymore, or have to wear it on display. Until your next mission, of course. Either way, you were just glad you’d be going to base soon, and get the well deserved rest you needed.

A rough shot of cognizance rattled through your spine, your hands stiffening and the smile you had deflating as your hairs stood at attention. Your left side felt completely vulnerable all of a sudden, and you felt deeply discomforted by the abrupt exposure, now shifting in your seat to gain some comfort back. Your whole side burned. You felt every layer of protection cease to exist under the blazing stir that set on what felt like your very skin. You were being watched, and definitely not with sweet eyes.

You didn’t need to guess where it was coming from, or who the unforgiving glower belonged to — Soap and Gaz were out, and Price was in the bridge, so that left one out of the four personnel that could be watching you like an angry hawk. And to think you would have a happy time home.

You knew you wouldn’t get away with the stunt you pulled, despite hoping he would brush it off eventually. How could he? He never neglects your wrongs. He never lets your blunders slip by. He never forgets.

You knew it all too well.

Let’s just hope you make it out alright this time.

You were in deep shit the moment you set foot into base. The way your name instantly shot through the room when Ghost snapped for you to come see him tensed the whole squad, already knowing what the issue pertained to. You didn’t need to look back to acknowledge they were all sending weary eyes your way.

“I’ll get your whiskey ready, Hops.”

“Thanks, ‘Tavish. I’m gonna need it.”

Taking your time to get to the door, you threw your gear into a room on the way and let your hair down from its bun. The tingling sensation of your relaxed scalp gave you a short peace of mind as you massaged the sore muscles and succumbed to a false happy place. You thought of all the nice things you’d partake in now that you were home — a nice shower, some cooked food, and your own bed to nap in now that there were no missions to fling yourself into. How you would all sit around the living room and converse about stories of the past, like how they got their scars, type of thing, as you drank the better-than-nothing whiskey for where you were. Ghost barked gratingly for the second time, his voice sharper, louder — filled with impatience, and knocked you straight out of your comforting haven. You felt your nerves pile onto the tip of your tongue, biting your lower lip to sooth the hard beating of your organs, and making your way to your superior.

You passed through the living quarters and down the long hall towards the debriefing room, quietly wishing you could turn around and pretend like you didn’t hear as you watched the comforting bedroom lights glow teasingly into the corridor. You had blinked, just once, and magically appeared in front of the open door that led straight to your doom. You were an anxious mess, fumbling with your gloves as you pulled them off and set them on the counter just beside the door. Taking a deep breath, you began to reason with yourself, mumbling incoherent encouragements to get you to go into the room and power your way through whatever he would yell at you for. Come on, White, you got this. At least you aren’t at Death’s door.. I hope.

The door slammed shut behind you when you had eventually entered, your heart stammering from the harsh snap of wood-on-wood. It felt like you had left reality and entered the dark dungeons of Hell from how drastic the atmosphere shifted. Not even the light felt the same as it blinked inside from the covered windows, nor the speckles of dust that would cascade down to the floor. You focused on your breathing despite your lungs want to collapse from the underlying fear that now set the scene. They practically did when you felt the looming presence of a ghost standing just a few feet away from your back, and deathly silent rage surrounding you like a cloud of toxin.

You need to relax.

You grazed your eyes over to the center table, signature black gear already laid across it with dissected guns and removed armor plates. They looked to have just been cleaned and reapplied with oil, but the finish looked rather rushed and almost careless from how he set every part across the counter. The sight made a cold shudder slither up your spine; Ghost always took care of his artillery, never using rushed hands and little thought when cleaning and placing pieces. You had gotten to him. Bad.

You tore your eyes away from the table and burned them straight ahead, the sound of heavy boots slowly prowling close catching your attention and flooding your veins with mixed apprehension. You recognize that gait, know those boots. Oh fuck..

There was a clipping sound paired with rustling fabric before you saw his vest get tossed by the table with a loud clatter. You flinched at the raucous noise, standing even firmer at attention despite the soft look you tried to portray and mitigate your angered superior.

“Would you like me to put your stuff away with mine?” You asked with a built sweetness. What good would this do? Dig your grave a little deeper? Might as well and try to knock two birds with one stone; ease the tension, ease the Lieutenant.

“You defied a direct order.” He uttered, the underlying reverb in his throat startling your overly aware nerves as his boots heaved on the floor with every step behind you.

You grimaced at the failed attempt to improve the situation, your shoulders tightening and your hands becoming clammy. When you saw the back of his cotton warmer, his steps ceasing after appearing meters in front of you, you audibly sighed, “If we didn’t get those vials then, we would’ve never been able to ransack like that again.”

“You think I give a bloody fuck?” His tone reached deep into his chest, his head snapping just barely to the side. It was a silent command to stand and shut the fuck up.

You snapped your mouth closed, watching as the Lieutenant peered down to a hand and flexed it out to rid the tension in his burly toned arm; he looked as if he would be flexing out claws, his large hands twitching from the urge to grab you and slam you against the wall to teach you a lesson. He was shaking, even just slightly, and was positively fuming for your disregard of his command and jumping straight into a no-coms zone. He had no clue if you’d come back to him either just as you were, or in a fucking casket. “If I see you dead, (Y/n), I swear to whatever bloody fuckin’ god is up there that I’ll be proper fuckin’ shit-pissed. Stay alive. Don’t you dare come back to me strung up in medals.”

He turned fully towards you, his broad frame blocking the incoming light from the window behind him. You looked two sizes smaller than Ghost — his body could fully cover you from view — the size difference enforcing intimidation without even mentioning his burning anger.

"I gave you an order, White." He stalked towards you, every agonizing step forcing you back on instinct, "You don't just ignore your superior's orders— especially not in this line of business."

You bumped into something solid and stopped, your eye contact with the black-suited soldier imposing on your soul and bleeding out with your incoming submission, "I'm sorry, Ghost, I really am. But if we didn't get those vials—"

His fist slammed right next to your head and into whatever you backed up against, your words hitching in your throat as a cracking noise came from the object behind you.

"I don’t care about the fuckin' vials, Rabbit."

You felt your heart practically rip out of your chest with every beat, your eyes wide and your hands pressed flush against the now cracked wall with your back. Your mind screamed at you to run away, acting on your prey instincts from the threatening presence in the room. Yet, you remained silent, unmoving as the Lieutenant’s eyes bore into yours, daring you to take a step away like he knew what you were thinking.

“Do you remember what I asked of you,” Ghost pierced through your ears with an alarmingly rich sonorous hum, “when I had you flush against my door, right on your pretty little knees?”

You felt a boiling heat rush throughout your body, your eyes snapping open even wider in full awareness. The scent of cigarettes and husky cologne was more potent now that he was so close to your figure, a mixture of dirt and old blood evident in his musk.

It practically clouded your senses, a dazed look setting in your eye as the oh-so familiar scent plunged deep into your lungs, yet you still conjured up whatever shitty pride you had left against your dire situation, “Sir, please.. This isn’t the time.”

He grimaced down at your audacity, his accent flaring with obvious fire, “Fuckin’— Do you remember what I asked of you?”

You couldn’t hold eye contact any longer, your embarrassment overpowering your confidence and causing your head to turn away. Yes, you remembered. You remembered the whole ordeal.

The way he shakily purred your name as you bobbed your head up and down his length with soft teary eyes and a constantly bulging throat. How he forced a hand through your hair as he leaned all his built weight into the other, curling his body above you and into his skillfully tattooed arm as he stroked your locks carefully. This was different. This was sensual. He wasn’t rough, and his touches were all filled with the utmost delicate attention like he was handling one of his most precious weapons.

You let out a short, uneasy scoff, trying to divert the perverted memory, “What does that have to do with any of this?”

He flashed you a hard glare, your hope of him going along with your words disappearing instantaneously. When he knew you were firmly silenced, his voice cut through the quiet like a knife through butter, “I’m going to ask you one last time. Do you or do you not remember what I asked of you?”

“.. Of course I do,” You meekly gave in, your eyes scathing back up his body and to his gaze, “That was the last time we were alone together before Op: V.”

He gently combed his fingers through your hair as you continued to suck and lick, focusing on his veined v-line that kept going back and forth with every thrust of your head. He let out a rough groan as your tongue swept along the underside of his sex, his body visibly shuddering as he mumbled, “God damn it, love..” and gripping his supporting hand into a tight fist. He began to snarl incoherent praises, saying how good you were for him, and how he was so lucky to have you assigned under him as his rookie.

"Bun," He inquired, jaw clenching as his eyes gazed down at you with glints of abnormal longing, "Come back to me in one piece— bloody hell, please."

“Then why did you risk it?”

You curled your hands up behind you, looking at anything but him in an effort to ignore the question. You had no option, however, when Ghost called your name with a chilling rasp, your arms becoming littered with goosebumps as your hair stood on edge.

"It's.. It's just.."

You could feel his eyes spark with curiosity at your stutter, finding your nervous form a rare sight, and savoring it with every look over. Despite this, he remained firm with heavy superiority behind every word, "’s just what, White?"

".. I didn't want to get in trouble." You whispered, afraid the whole world would hear your confession.

The room went dead quiet, so much so you swore you could feel the air thicken and begin to choke you through each breath you took. Ghost had froze. He froze with a blank stare straight into your eyes, like he was processing word for word what you said. I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up, your mind repeated, never once breaking from his swirling gaze. You had no clue what he was thinking, what the subtle glints in his eyes meant as they showered around your body in tantalizingly slow look overs. You wanted him to say something, anything to keep you from basking in the silence and spiraling yourself into an overthinking mess.

You abruptly flinched as he pulled his head away from yours, his voice vibrating in a low pitch and deepening his accent, "What did you say?"

"I didn't want to get in trouble.." You repeated, gulping down a chunky lump in your throat.

He took another moment of pure silence before slowly peeling himself off you. You gawked after him as he went to trudge across the room towards his strewn about gear, looking through it with haste as you remained stuck to the wall. You stood in utter confusion, wondering what in the world was going to happen, until he snapped his fingers and pointed down by his side without giving you a single glance; "Here." You, of course, followed his instruction, and walked up quietly behind him to his side all the while picking at your fingers in nervous habit. You didn’t like not knowing what would happen next, and it seemed like everything he did was to play on your discomfort, taking his sweet yet rushed time to gather whatever he was seeking.

"Trying to get yourself out of trouble is what gets you in trouble. Fuckin' shit, White— you should know this by now."

You felt like a private all over again, being scolded by the second lieutenant during training for doing something slimly out of line, "I'm sorry, Ghost.."

He snapped his head towards you, giving you a scowl through his eyes like that was the last thing you should've said, "Sayin’ sorry won't fix anything when you're fuckin' dead."

You clamp your mouth shut as Ghost turned back to the table, pulling out one of his black cloths from a vest pocket. You were beyond anxious from each of his rushed actions, watching him flick the cloth out of its folds and holding it between his hands.

He turned to face you, watching you examine the black fabric in his hands with wide doe eyes, “Turn around.”

Without wanting to make matters worse, you comply and face your back towards him with a shaky turn. You hear his boots thud against the floor as he comes straight up to your behind, his close presence causing your back to feel oddly sensitive despite the zero contact. It worsened as you felt his firm chest graze your shoulder blades when he leaned forward, his breath seeping into your ear through his balaclava.

“Close your eyes.”

You felt a shiver creep nerve-by-nerve through your system, and how your whole spine became pleasurably tender from marinating in his close-up musk. Your eyes closed with the single flutter of your lids, your adrenaline accelerating from your lack of sight and creating a blissfully heavy sensation in your core.

You gently twitched when you felt what you assumed to be his arms graze past your shoulders, and place the black cloth over your eyes before tying it off securely behind your head. You didn’t dare remove it, and instead embraced the enhanced senses you were given, feeling every vein that split through and around his exposed forearms, and hear every low breath from behind his skull coverings.

“‘Only you were this well behaved on the mission. It’s really a shame, White.. qui-te the shame.”

You let your body tremble as his hands trailed painfully slow down your neck and to the dip in your back, his gloved fingertips grazing your quivering figure with rare delicacy. You relished in the rare attention, involuntarily leaning into his warmth with a soft, shaky sigh passing through your lips from the contact. You missed him. You missed all of him. His body was not something you could see yourself without, and that whole mission was absolute torture; running around to get the job done with little to no time with your ghost. The first night without him went fine, but after the second?

You were both aching for touch. It was becoming impossible to stay curled in your tents, and the overwhelming need for one another’s bodies burned your very cores with hot desire. One thing led to another and you both had your earbuds in, dialed on a private line, and letting yourselves confess your needy desires to the dark heavens above.

“Raise your arms above your head.”

You did as you were told, shakily lifting your arms straight up to the ceiling. His hands removed themselves from your sides and went for your wrists, bringing your arms behind your head and wrapping them around his neck. It stretched your body out nicely, his height forcing you on the balls of your feet and to the tips of your toes just to adjust with the position. Your fingers felt on something soft, something warm gliding under your tips as you stroked down the fabric material. The soft surface subtly rose with bumps as your nails lightly scratched what you remembered as his nape, feeling his locks peak out from under the balaclava, and gently feeling for it. A thick vein trailed up the side of his throat and caressed your exposed wrist, your pulse radiating with his at the sensation of his firm flesh. You were anxious, yet you could allow the Lieutenant to do as he pleased when he brought his palms down to your stomach.

You began dreading the blindfold, wanting to see everything he was doing to you, “Ghost.. Why do I have to wear this cloth?”

His tone reverberated along his throat in a growlish pitch, “So you can understand exactly what I saw when you went into that bloody building.”

“But I don’t see—”

His fingers dug into your v-line and forced a whimper from your chest, his voice burning low, violent, “That’s the fuckin’ point. I didn’t see anything, not a proper fuckin’ thing when you went into that warehouse.”

He leaned in close to your ear, his breath nipping against your shell with every hot exhale, “You’re going to feel exactly what I felt. You’re going to see exactly what I saw. Only you put yourself in this position, and you’re going to sit your ass through it just as I did.”

“Do I make myself clear, Sergeant?”

“Yes, Ghost—”

His grip tightened painfully through your warmers, a hiss falling with your sudden intake of air and shutting you up.

“It’s either yes Lieutenant, or yes sir.. You’ve forgotten your place, White, so you’re goin' to live in it until I see fit. So again, do I make myself fuckin’ clear, Sergeant?”

Had it not been for his leather gloves and your cotton warmer, you knew his nails would've punctured through your skin with how tight his grip on your body was. Did you wish that was the case? Abso-fucking-lutely.

You let his rough handling of you coax an answer from your lips as you finally gave in, your soft voice wavering in defeat, "Yes, Lieutenant.."

"Atta' girl.. Such a good obedient thing when you want ta’ be, ain't that right?"

Oh, if your insides weren't clenching before, they were definitely clenching now. It sounded so dirty, like he stripped you clean of any human title and dubbed you almost like a pet. The blindfold was tied snug against your eyes, unrelenting with how tight your heat was clinging to your insides, or how it made being called a good obedient thing by the predator behind you turn your mind into liquid. You could feel how his body encased your own, and how his skin was burning hot, muscles completely flexed and solid in restraint to keep himself together.

You sucked in a deep breath when you felt his big hands trail down to the buckle of your belt and slowly unclip it, "L—Lieutenant..?"

With a harsh tug, the belt came straight out of your pants and right to the floor, "'Won't be needin' this."

Picking up the bottom of your cotton shirt, he raised it up and over your chest, letting the hem rest messily along your collarbone as he pulled his hands fully off your body. You were stood right against his hard frame, your pants now unbuttoned and zipped down, and your pretty abdomen and covered tits on full display.

His gloved hands grazed down your neck and over your perking breasts, giving them little attention as he continued to trail his cold gloves along your warming skin. You wish he’d rip open your bra and pinch your nipples with unrelenting roughness, but when his leather palms glazed over your v-line, right over your panty line, you wiped that thought clean out of your head with a gentle sigh.

As if sensing your shifting emotions, he clicked his tongue and set his hands just on the hem of your cargo pants with a strict sneer, "Sergeant, keep yourself together."

You let out a shaky response, his firm command urging out a submission of acknowledgment, "Yes, sir."

“That’s my girl. My good, pretty little girl.. I think we should get started with your punishment."

His fingers made their way through your pants and straight to your clothed cunt, his gloves snagging gently against the silky fabric of your panties. His sudden assault caused a flinch to ripple through your body, your mind asking to any god above if this was truly what he said it would be right before he began his torture. You let out a soft squeak when you felt pressure begin to push against your covered slit, drawing small circles on the tip of your clit with his middle finger as it nestled right between your puffy cameltoe.

"Feels fuckin' good, doesn't it?" He murmured, keeping his other hand pinning your ass against his hips.

"Feelin' so right and perfect on my fingers.. Just how I felt when you followed and obeyed under my command like nothing could go wrong."

Noticing your pussy begin to grind against his fingers, he scoffed, settling his hardening arousal right against your ass, "Fuckin' hell..”

He let you continue to move your hips, his mask shifting right against the side of your cheek all the while he savored how your plump rear would shift and press against his thickening sex. He missed this. He missed you. How every morning you'd greet him with such warm eyes, and how every night you'd welcome him into your gushy insides with the most submissive pleas and cries. When you would whine and beg to be stuffed full of nothing but his thick cock, or when you’d put on something that begged for his instincts to grab you and taint your flesh and blood with nothing but him. It practically made him feral at just the remembrance.. But, as much as he wanted to indulge himself, Ghost knew he couldn't let you off the hook, not after firing him up and really showing how scary a tosser could be when it came to his woman.

"'s just like this, yeah? Seeing nothin', absolutely fuck all, and left with the pleasure of knowin' you're alright— knowin' you're in ear's length of coms."

With the increase of pressure on your hardened pearl, and the rougher grind of his large finger circling the pulsing nub, he began to push the little restraint you had on your voice, and forcing quiet groans and mewls past your trembling lips.

"'Felt so good— so fuckin' perfect, like nothin' could wrong me as long as you listened and stayed in contact."

All your mind could focus on was the overwhelming growth of slick and lust forming straight into your guts, and the death pulsing grip the Lieutenant had on your bruising skin. Your bucking hips became desperate, your need to feel your knot grow and snap intruding and releasing your lustful pheromones in the air like an animal searching for a mate— or better yet, to mate— and clinging to every little thing.

"And every single time you answered my call.. It was like music to my ears, Bun. 'Couldn't see you, yet could feel your hot breath right in my ear like you were fuckin' there, right stood next to me, just as it should've been."

You let out a strained gasp when you felt his finger push your panties away from your drooling cunt and forcing itself inside, the palm of his hand rubbing circles over your clit in his finger's stead. The grip you had on his balaclava disappeared, only for your fingers to run straight under the fabric and shakily grab at his hair to somewhat ground your slushing brain. His finger felt like it was stretching you out already, the leather glove aiding in the attack as his digit went in and out, curled and uncurled. You were getting drunk on just his hand, your back arching off Ghost's body as shocks of wrecking pleasure pulsed through your very bones.

A purr-like growl began to rumble inside his throat, his eyes never once leaving the sight of his hand stuffed down your trousers and finger fucking your weeping pussy, “It felt just like how you’re feeling now— so full and right. So euphoric to know you were right under the palm of my hand, and that nothing would come to stop us from getting home.”

You felt your tongue push past your lips when he injected another finger into your clenching hole, shoving right against your flexing cunt, “F—Fuck!”

His hand suddenly stopped moving, earning a needy whine from your pathetically crumbling body, “Watch your fuckin’ mouth, Sergeant. If I hear another swear out of you, I’ll leave you as the dumb mess you are right on that couch.”

You felt your eyes widen behind the black cloth, needy pleas and cries straining for his continuous touch, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ll behave, I promise!”

With a cocky smirk, he gradually began to set his pace back into your sex, sloppy ‘thank you’s and ‘more’s croaking from your drying throat, “Good girl.”

Your hips began to spasm, the tight knot you’ve been craving for forming at a rapid pace as his fingers hit knuckles-deep into your cunt. Your eyes began to roll up and become half-lidded, drool seeping down the corner of your lip when you let out a short cry from your pussy suddenly quivering and gripping around Ghost’s fingers.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, Bun— are you gonna cum already?” He mused, rubbing his palm harder against your hot clit.

You couldn’t even focus on what he was taunting over, being too caught up in the boiling heat that hit over and over against your insides. You were about to snap, your muscles contracting and retracting rapidly as your body convulsed. The hold you had on his hair was hard, your nails digging into his scalp with a vice grip, and the foggy look you gave to the blindfold screaming for release.

Ghost rubbed the hard edge of his mask right against your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing your bruised hips in a forged comfort, “'Felt the same way when I heard you call in after my every order. How it felt so fuckin' warmin' to have you submit whenever I needed to hear your confirmation— without your daft tongue."

A harsh spike of snapping thread spread throughout your womb, flooding your lower half in fuzz and intense heat as your cervix quivered with every involuntary clench. You felt panic rise into your lungs, finding it harder and harder to keep your panting under control as you realized your ending point was being fucked out of you quicker than normal.

You slurred over every word, spreading your thighs out wider as your jaw began to tighten, "Cumming— Lieutenant, I'm gonna— no, I'm gonna—!”

His voice burled deep and rough, the accent you oh-so adored sounding like Satan’s damned temptation, “But then, oh then, did that comfort crumble right through my fingers.”

Just when you felt your eyes roll back into your head, your body fully prepared for your stuttering womb to snap, his touch disappeared in an instant, and the overflowing high that was soon to tip over washing away gruesomely fast. You were left empty, hollowed even, with how quick the change was as your body adjusted to being denied its pleasure. You were left in shock. What the hell just happened?

You could hear the devilish taunt of his voice as you glared into darkness with helpless teardrops forming in your eyes, “You really thought I’d let you burst, White? Bloody fuck, you’ve really been spoiled rotten.”

You sniffed as drops of your pearling tears fell from your eyes, “Th—That’s not fair..”

He couldn’t help the amused scoff that found its way through the mask, his hands grasping your luscious waist in a rough clutch, “'Didn’t tell you to talk.”

“I did what I had to do!”

He snapped, “Watch it, Sergeant.”

The commanding bark quieted your pleads, your sniffs and silent whimpers remaining as your only hope to get what you needed. You pressed your thighs back against his legs, trying to press more of your body into him as an offering, even going as far as to grind your ass against his dense arousal— you were acting like a bitch in heat, and it was getting to the point where even Ghost couldn’t see straight anymore from how slutty you were acting for his dick.

In one rapid moment, you could feel the leather covered fingertips hook around the front of your bra just milliseconds before it came ripping right off your torso. You gasped from his brute strength forcing your bra to come apart in his hands, the weight of your tits forcing out a small whimper of need before you felt the cool fabric of gloves cup the underside of your mounds in a firm hold.

"'Missed these slutty tits and how they fit into my hands just right. 'nd the way your nipples—" He finally brought his attention to your teats, giving them a painful pinch and pull, "— were always so excited to see me.."

You felt the hard skull covering press into the space between your neck and shoulder, listening to him take a deep inhale of your warm scent, "Damn proper perfection, and it's all for me to fuck and break."

You press further into his broad frame, your back flush against his snug fitted warmer. You couldn't get enough of him; you needed more with every passing second, and now with him practically milking your breasts with how he kept pulling and twisting your nipples, you were hopelessly in need of Ghost.

Your heart jarring to keep up with a healthy pace in spite of your embarrassment, you sputtered, "Please punish me more.."

A low chuckle vibrated through his chest, pulling his head back from your shoulder as one of his hands left your tit and grazed it up between your breasts to gently touch your neck, "Punishment isn't meant to be pleasurable, Sergeant."

You tilted your head to the side, allowing his fingers to brush against your pulse and lay comfortably around your throat, “I can’t help it when it’s you punishing me..”

He impulsively allowed his hand to wrap around your supple neck, that small ounce of control he had left finally splitting as his voice dropped down heavy octaves, "You're asking for it now, Bun.."

Swiftly, he released your throat and tore the blindfold right off your head, not giving your eyes a moment to adjust before grabbing onto the back of your bruising nape and pushing you towards the center of the room. You were tripping over your own feet to keep up with his large strides, your legs getting caught up with his in an intertwined mess. Your heart was beating in your ears and your mind was running wild with the varying scenarios that could play out right in this room like the many times before. You were practically dripping at the thought of being manhandled and fucked so stupid that you wouldn't be able to walk for the next few days— hopefully the next few weeks. You might even get your wish with how hasty he was being to get you into place just for him to abuse and litter with his crazed ardor. You brought your hands down to keep yourself steady when he finally got you into a comfortable spot; you were faced right in front of the coffee table, your eyes once again staring at his carelessly thrown about equipment.

Taking no more time to waste, he brutally shoved all his equipment off the table, and slammed your front onto the now clear countertop, breasts down, ass up. You gasped from suddenly being thrown around like a doll, hitting straight onto the wood with a slight bounce, and your pliable flesh rippling from the impact. You could feel the harsh coolness of the wood rub into your nipples, your breasts painfully aroused as your innocent nubs continued to tighten and perk.

In one jarring movement, Ghost had your pants down past your ankles, and your panties left disheveled on your blemished hips with heavy impatience. For the second time, he froze — even if it was only for a split second, you felt it. His hand flinched with a sudden stop against your naked thigh when he began to retract, and the hard breathing that echoed around the soldier had grown quiet for just that moment.

It was proper fucking magic. The way the straps of your underwear perfectly dipped into your glistening flesh, and how your puffy cameltoe was deliciously accentuated by the soft fabric of your cotton panties. It only made his mind spiral helplessly into a feral slop of what it once was, the remembrance of needing to punish you completely forgotten and thrown to the back of his mind. The hunger to ruin your full being was fucking with his brain to where even he was losing his cool.

Like countless times before, he retracted his knife from his chest holster and slammed the 11 inch MTECH right into the oak table, blistering up the surrounding wood layers. He engraved it right in front of your eyes, the brutal sound of the blade ripping straight into the countertop ringing in your ears as you watched his hand linger for just a moment to make sure you acknowledged it, before he let go of the tang with an agonizingly slow retraction — it was a warning.

An unclasping sound startled you out of your stare-off with his weapon, the noise of metal clinking together as his belt buckle laid lax against his thighs coaxing a noise out of you. You swore you were about to lose it when you heard him unbutton his pants, and the unzipping of zipper teeth graze painfully low behind your ass. He was drawing this out for as long as he could, and you knew it, too. From the amount of times he’s edged you, forced you to beg for what you wanted; to put it into perspective, you didn’t know how far gone you could go until you were once on the brink of passing out from the painful edging and needful crying, that’s how well you knew his tendencies.

The knife laid clattered with your torn lingerie, droplets of thick glossy honey dripping onto the long forgotten pile. Slapping of skin and squelching mush underlined heavy growls and sob-filled moans, the room filled with the damp smell of sex and pornish sounds of pleasure.

Through your broken cries, Ghost couldn’t help the snarl that rose from his throat when he felt your weeping cunt brutally hug onto his dick with need. He had lost himself the moment he sunk balls deep into your hole, letting his desire take full responsibility of fucking you till you were completely stuffed with all he could give. He became an animal, his only need being to shove you full with his cock in the most feral way possible. He needed to.

With a final harsh snap of his hips, the grip he had on your waist indented into your skin, and the hold that marked carnally around your neck dug even deeper into your pulse. He sloppily stilled with a small -plap- between your thighs, keeping flush against your raw sex as he took a moment to gather himself. Sweat lined your skins with a shear layer, heavily falling chests fueling the desperate pants for air that puffed against your exertions. You were on the brink of cumming, your pussy convulsing around his cock as you mewled quietly for him to let you release — this was the third time this round he stopped just before you could snap, and the many tears that drooled down your cheeks were evidence of such sin. You couldn’t even beg for it, you poor thing, that’s how far gone you were.

He shut you up with a violent slap on your plump thigh, earning a muffled cry as he made sure his pelvis pressed right into your clit insync.

“Ah ah ah, love— no whining for your fuckings, remember? You’ll take what I give you, and appreciate it like the proper sex whore you are.”

He drew out your orgasm for the next thirty minutes no matter how desperate you cried, or how fucked out you looked. He couldn’t bring himself to let you out of his room without making sure the only thing your body would remember was him and how he was the only one that could fuck you this good. No one could violently edge, or screw you dumb the way his dick could, and your body better fucking remember that.

You felt something hot glide right through your mounds, the moistened cotton of your panties dragging against your clit in slow, shuddering thrusts.

"Fuuckk.. Fuckin' Christ.." Ghost hissed through bared teeth, grinding himself firmly between your wettened thighs, "'Don't know how much longer I can take this.."

You could cry with how badly you needed him inside of you. It was becoming stressfully hard to keep back your curses and whines, and he was picking up on every little frustrated jolt your body made as he made it worse and worse. And it did worsen when you let out a choppy sob as you felt the warmth of his bulge pull away from your soiled underwear, your clit twitching in red searing need for his attention. It all washed away before you could start begging, when you felt a boiling hot heat prod against the very same bud, squealing out when you felt a warm substance smear across your panties up and down over the entrance to your insides.

His fingers hooked under your thin covering and pulled it to the side of your swollen lips, the cold air hitting your exposed inner flesh and causing it to spasm closed. You hiccuped with every passing breath, imagining what was waiting just mere inches away from your weeping hole; is it his fat cock, pulsing blue veins strapping up the underside of his painfully hard arousal? Or was it another teasing set of fingers to ready your cunt for his dick to bottom out inside you? He answered your question to the fullest when he pushed the bulb of his thick cock right between your folds, earning a shocked moan from your quivering lips.

Utterly pleased, he tilted his head back as he savored the way the tip of his aching dick began to slide back and forth against your sex, feeling every wettened, pulsing piece of your cunt. He ran a hand to the dip of your back as he carelessly hung the other at his side, pumping his happy trail with every slow, teasing roll of his hips against your ass.

A guttural sigh purred deep in his chest, one final 'Fuuck..' rumbling through his stitched balaclava before he stilled his hips, regaining some of his lost composure with every raspy breath.

"Time for the— hah..— main event, don't you think, Bun?"

You could only nod as an answer, your heart trying to steady itself while causing a lump to get caught in your throat. Your body was scorching, all too eager to get what you "deserved" and completely milk it for all you could. You were desperate for any friction, and it started showing as you settled your ass back on his twitching desire, small presses and shifting hips never once escaping his sharp eye.

He tutted his tongue in disapproval as he gave your ass a firm smack, letting his dense fingers sink into your plump rear and melt into your flesh, “Patience, little rabbit. All you have to do is say please, and I might consider giving you what you want."

You practically leapt at his offer, twisting your head back to face him with blown out eyes, "Please fuck me, Lieutenant! I can't take this anymore— it's been way too long since we've touched, and I need it! Please, please, please!"

Ghost couldn't help the chuckle that ran up his throat, pushing his glistening cockhead on your burning clit as he started to taunt your pathetic begging, "Who knew the stubborn White Rabbit could be taken down a few notches from just a bloody cock.. What would the team think?"

He slowly glides his fingertips up your spine, going straight from your Venus Dips to your delicate nape with taunting emotive trails of gentle leather kisses, “Not like that matters.. ‘Sides, if they even thought about my dangerous little bun all fucked out and sobbing.. Well, I can guarantee they’d rethink what Hell looked like.”

He leans down over your trembling figure, sliding a hand around to the front of your neck and keeping it in a snug grip, “I don’t give a fuck what the regulations say. You’re mine— all mine to adore..”

Your eyes began to blur with every word, ‘mine’ ringing through your ears like an angel’s love song. It sounded so comforting, so intoxicatingly beautiful that it would’ve brought you down on your knees to listen and hang over every lyric. It would’ve— should’ve been the case, except for the fact that in reality, it wasn’t a heavenly call, but was the Devil in disguise dangling your precious desires right in front of your face with every deep, luscious promise. Fucking Christ.. Who knew the Devil looked so good in black?

“Say it.. Say you’re mine, and I’ll give you my fuckin' cock to cry over just how you want.”

“I..”

You gathered your mush of a brain to at least spark some type of sense in you. You sputtered silent nonsense as you tried to please him, tried to give him an answer like the good girl you were. It felt impossible, but you managed with what little control you had over your dumbed-out mind, and responded with such a weak waver of song.

“I’m yours, Lieutenant..”

“That’s my fuckin’ girl.”

In one violent push, his cock plunged to the root in your mush, a sickening smack of wet skin signifying your glistening pussy lips now trembling around his dense girth. Had it not been for his tight grip around your pulsing neck, you would’ve screamed— screamed in absolute pleasure of finally feeling him to the fullest context. Your attention remained glued to the knife, the shiny serrated edge glinting at you in mockery of your pathetic cry. But did you care? Absolutely not. Simon Ghost Riley was stuffing your cunt full of his dick for the millionth time this month, and you would never feel even the slightest bit of shame in taking him. You were infatuated. You were drunk on him. You were in love with him.

Just like how he was in love with you, his pretty little Sergeant.

Flexing his muscled back with a satisfied sigh, he ran his strong hands down your waist and held it in a deathly clutch, “You’re not allowed to cum unless I tell you to. Is that understood?”

You felt your lungs tighten as a breathy sigh passed through your lips, “Yes, sir..”

“Good fuck bunny. Such a lovely piece of fuck meat, just for me.”

Wrapping your hair around a knuckles-white grip, he slammed away at your gushing insides in pure animalistic rage, delicious feral fapping and squelching noises dragging him on to fuck you as he set off with no soft pace. You gasped out only to whine and moan against every hard slap of your hips, the weight of his dick pinning right up into your cervix tipping you over already— his cock was long enough to reach far inside your cunt and push delectably into that one weak spot that sent you reeling; thick enough to leave you molded, gapping the shape of his cock as a momento of who fucks— who owns your very being, inside and out. God, you were in pure bliss. Feeling this man every night in his bed has left this hole in your chest, something you couldn’t quite describe without thinking about him doing you in and touching every inch of your body. He’s left his mark on you, forever attached to a ghost that guarded from the shadows, yet a man that bedded you in nothing but his deep primal musk. The sensations of his carnal sin would never excrete; your body, mind, and soul would remember the way he tastes, feels, and fucks for the rest of your life. But was that really a problem?

He leaned his broad frame over your glittering body, making sure each thrust was passionate, invigorating as he intimately kissed your guts with wild heat. You felt his abdomen graze your back with every pull of your hips towards his exposed pelvis, the feeling of hot cotton and tightened muscles looming above your figure as he pressed you further into the table. You were small compared to his burly size, a single hand able to make home around your neck in a clasp that could still touch at the back of your throat. His thighs that kept yours spread were thick, thrusting against them in a firm stance to ensure they stayed apart and around his dense muscles. His torso.. don’t even get started on his torso. The tight fit of his black shirt perfectly accentuated every crisp line of his abdominal muscles, his strong ribs and sharply cut v-line pressing neatly into the fabric around every tensed ab. You were a lucky girl to experience such a deadly built predator like himself rubbing and fucking into your poor subordinate body. He was the size of an ox compared to you, a small bunny.

He growled lowly in your ear as he tugged your head back into his shoulder, “Don’t you ever disobey me again.. Don’t you ever— fuck— go under my authority again.”

Pulling you back on his dick, he slammed into you after every rough word, “Is.. -plap- that.. -plap- under.. -plap- stood?”

Your nails dug straight into the wood, pressing your reddening cheek into his stitched mask in an attempt to ground yourself, “Gnngh! Yes, sir!”

Without another word, he let go of your hair and allowed your head to rest on the cold wood, swiftly taking hold of your arms and pulling them back towards him in a single clasp. He released your bruised waist from his vice clutch, only to grab onto your shoulder and pull you back on his cock as he rashly snarled, “Take it.. Take this fucking cock.”

The tip of his dick deliciously fucked into your tight pussy, the feeling of his happy trail pounding possessively into your ass gushing out more of your stringy honey. He never let up on his assault, making sure you savored this just as much as he was; the way his cock relentlessly claimed every inch of your guts, and marked your pink in glossy white precum. And how with each passing second, your moans grew louder, unfiltered by anything to hold your pleasure back and overpowering his raspy curses and growls.

He starts coming back to himself, slowly but surely, as he drove his hips into yours in a constant state. He began to have the ability to appreciate how he sunk into your sex inch-by thick-inch with mild resistance of your clenching walls, and how your body would jitter perfectly against his when he thrusted just at the right angle. You were so delicious on his dick, trying to milk him for his worth with the vice-like clench you had on his pumping arousal. How he managed to survive the mission was beyond him, but the reward afterwards was all worth the wait as he could finally refill your hole with his veiny, heavy cock.

Tears prickled into your soft lashes, a small hiccup jolting through your ragged breaths, “Oh, God..!”

His hips slowed just enough to where your voice would calm down, taking your chin in a harsh grasp as he removed his hold on your shoulder and forced you to look over at him. His eyes burned holes into yours, clear utter possession and want flaring around his deep leather browns as he watched pearl after pearl streak down your cheeks from your cute butterfly wings.

“You know, it’s very fuckin’ rude to moan another man’s name as I’m bottomin’ out in you, even if you’re praying to God himself.”

With a low scoff, he whispered against your burning ear as he turned your head back to his knife, “Like he could do any better..”

Your stuttering apology slurred into nothing but noise, too fucked out to even try as your mind focused on how his dick twitched inside of you and dragged against your insides. The overwhelming heat of your sex piled and piled, getting far too scorching that you were on the brink of calling it quits. And yet, at the thought of having this end, you couldn’t bring yourself to tap out and return to your original home plan. You were drunk on his cock, the feeling of every pulsing vein and curve of his twitching sex throwing you further and further into the lustful fog at the back of your mind.

Your soppy cunt sucked and squeezed on his dick, your end drawing near with every slap of your coated thighs, and every desperate tug at your aching arms. Your womb burned with the need to snap, your legs shaking violently as your body begged for release, to reach that plain of ecstasy that would make you see fuzzy white. It was driving you mad, the denial to cum earlier ravaging your nerves like a powerful source as he continued to fuck you straight into the table. You were overwhelmed by all the cloudy sensations of sin— his smell, his dick, his chest, his mask— him. It was like biting into the forbidden fruit when you met him behind closed doors, your bodies colliding and dancing in the fires of your own desires as you gave in to your intrusive thoughts of the ghost.

It was likewise for the shadow himself, feeling the wrongs of behaving in such an inappropriate manner with his subordinate, yet being unable to look away from your innocent eyes as he passed by. To him, you were the temptation, the taboo. You were the forbidden fruit that God himself placed before him— a perfect little angel all for him to ruin and claim with every searing touch. He knew he was trapped the moment he gave in and took your body as his with a simple little graze of his fingers across your naked back. He didn’t mean to get attached. He didn’t mean to always come crawling back to your door that sat just across the hall. But he wasn’t dumb. He knew once that innocent little spark ignited in his cold chest, he had to have you. Call it fiction, but it was like fate for you to be his, just as it was his to be yours.

Sliding his hand away from your neck, Ghost pulled up his balaclava just above the tip of his nose before returning his grip to your blemished throat, “You’re going to— fuckin’ shit— cum all over my cock, and scream out my name like the good little fuck rabbit you are. Copy that.”

“Copied..” You moaned as your eyes scathed away from the knife, accentuating the 'e' with a short, fucked-out purr.

He groaned at your weak answer, shoving his clenching jaw into your neck as he looked up at your glistening face, “That’s— That’s my fuckin’ bun.”

As his need grew, he couldn’t hold back the feral upbringing of possession before he sunk his teeth into your flesh, only enough to leave a gruesome mark for your later discovery when you would clean yourself up in the showers. The possessiveness in his affirmation only made your heart flutter as your stomach did flips from how his voice thundered low in a lustful pitch before he laid needful claim on your neck. It didn’t stop there, either, as his teeth made your neck his personal canvas with deep love bites and purpling hickeys— you were his muse, and his muse alone to show off.

Pulling back from yet another hickey with a sickening pop, he placed his skull covered forehead right into your trapezius with a carnal snarl, “In or out, pet.”

You gasped out for a shaky breath of air against his rough thrusts, looking up into the ceiling as you arched your back in acceptance, “In!”

That was all he needed to hear, his pounding into your raw cunt becoming a feral mess of loud squelching and quickened slaps as his abdomen clenched and heavy balls tightened with the need to cum. You weren’t far behind, not in the slightest, as your mushy pussy began to spasm with your pulsing clit, your womb a burning fire that was ready to spread in an instant.

“Oh— cumming! Cumming, cumming, cumming!”

“Say it— say my fuckin’ name. Scream my bloody fucking name to whatever god is listening as you cum.”

That was it. You tipped right over the edge and screamed out his name, screamed out Simon. Your womb stuttered with each thread snapping and flushing throughout your core in convulsing heats, your hips bucking back into his as your eyes crossed up before fluttering shut. His arms quickly encased your body, wrapping around your waist and hugging you close as he fucked into you and coursed you right into overstimulation. With your arms caged under him, and your twitching figure forcing gurgled noises past your lips, he bottomed out inside of your cunt, sharp thrusts pushing every last drop straight into your womb and filling you to the brim.

Strained pants and groans puffed through the air as you came down from your highs, your legs shaking and possibly put out of commission from the restless fucking you had been given. The Lieutenant laid over your worn out body, resting his arms on the table to keep from piling too much weight on your small figure. He gazed at the mess of your spoiled skin from his markings, surging with pride over what he had done to his girl as his panting began to return to normalcy.

His attention snapped down to you, however, when he felt one of your soft fingers delicately trace along his tattooed sleeve, your eyes foggy while you looked over your shaky work. To keep his returning arousal down was a fucking war, but he managed when he noticed a gushing sensation ripple around his softening cock.

Ghost slowly sat up, running his hands over your sweaty skin to see what mess he had left between your quivering legs, and oh boy, did another war tear right through him when he saw that you had creamed all over his pelvis. His seed had began to spill out of your stretched hole, mixing with your own exertion as it traveled down your thighs and leaked straight from the source.

“Fuckin’ hell.. What a mess.”

You could only listen as he pulled out of your cunt, still keeping his form over your body in a protective stance just before he gently picked you up off the table and placed you on his lap when he sat in a chair. He pulled you close to him, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you finally managed to catch your breath and fill back with your lost sanity.

Stroking your back with a careful thumb, he peered down at you and spoke with a soft rasp, “You okay, love?”

You swallowed a forming saliva, wetting your dried throat before responding with a weak voice, “I’m okay.. I just hope they didn’t hear..”

Ghost couldn’t help the smirk that wiped onto his lips, “Oh, I’m sure they did. From the way you screamed my name, there’s no way they didn’t hear you creaming on my dick.”

You shook your head and nuzzled into his bunched shirt, sighing contently despite the sinful activity that just took place, in the debriefing room, no less, “God damn it..”

“Let’s go, MacTavish! You’re taking two minutes longer than last time!”

“Yes, sir!”

Price watched as Gaz and Soap wrestled around in the dirt, trying to overthrow one another as the spar continued. Ghost stood silent, arms crossed as he watched the two Sergeants have at each other, noting all their flawed advances and misses.

The Captain flashed his eyes towards his Lieutenant, gazing over his attentive posture before going back to the training, “Where is White?”

“I told her to sleep in for today.” He responded, eyes never once leaving the two men.

“I wonder why..” Price muttered, running a hand down his face with an amused scoff before returning it to his side, “You’re lucky I sent those two off to help with the luggage.”

Ghost just barely gave him a side glance, his own amusement underlying his blank stare before looking back at Soap tackling Gaz.

With a sigh of defeat, he shook his head as he crossed his own arms, “Your way of punishment astounds me, Simon.”

At this, he couldn’t help but let out his own thoughts, a subtle joking tone playing in his voice, “A little harsh directive time and again saves you the trouble, Price.”

“Yeah— saves me the trouble, grants you the pleasure.”

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