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hoshigray · 4 months

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𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐌𝐄 [& 𝑭𝑼𝑪𝑲 𝑴𝑬] 𝐔𝐏!! | tōji fushiguro

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: It's bad enough you got a crush on your gym instructor, Toji; however, it gets worse when things become too close and personal for this relationship...But who says you shouldn't get a little praise for your hard work?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: personal trainer! Toji x fem! reader - explicit contents; minors DNI - unrequited/crushing » mutual pining - sex in a public space (gym locker room + showers) - shower sex - thigh riding - oral (m! + f! receiving) - ball massaging - face + throat-fucking - breast fondling + nipple play - against a wall + upstanding citizen + standing 69 positions - praise - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - cervix fucking - pet names (angel, baby, doll, dollface, good girl, princess, sweetie, sweet thing) - unprotected sex (doesn't shoot inside tho) - overstimulation - cameos: Haibara and Ino (gym manager and employee) - the reader accidentally walks into the men's locker room (they're a bit dumb, forgive them, lol) - mention of sweat spit and tears.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.4k (i'm about to lose my mind, bro.)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: mannnnnn, the way this draft has been collecting dust, it was supposed to be released on Dec!! ofc my first fic back would be for toji lmao. anyways, i hope you enjoy, and tysm for 4.7k y'all are so sweet ;;w;; and thank yeww @ramonathinks for beta-reading, mwah mwah

“That one was weak; do another three.”

“Gahh– …You’re such an asshole, Fushiguro.”

“Heh, like that’s anythin’ new. C’mon, let’s go!”

We’re counting down to the last weeks of the year, and so many people have already promised affirmations for themselves in the upcoming year. In terms of this year, you can’t say much. You’ve done your work, hung out with the same people since last year, and probably learned to spoil yourself more. Maybe another thing you can be proud of is that you crossed some TV series off your “get-to-watch” list, so go you!

Although, besides those minimal things, there is one change in your life that you’ve committed yourself to. One thing that you didn’t expect to be so in tune with throughout the past half of the year. It started as a forced challenge because your friend Miwa needed someone to motivate her to maintain her gym membership. What was once something you’d thought a one-time thing gradually became something you enjoy — something you felt proud doing!

Not only has your knowledge of your body and how to keep it in good shape improved over half a year, but your love for the community has grown more and more. The gym you go to feels like a second home, with many people you’ve gotten to know and befriend along your journey. Even the manager, Haibara Yu, practically treats you like a sibling after seeing you every other day. The same goes for the front desk associate, Ino, who is the goofiest goofball you’ve ever met (not to mention the best drinking buddy).

But – if you really had to pick – there is one person who has made this experience more enjoyable and worthwhile. “Hahhh!! There, I did them! Aren’t you supposed to be my spotter, not a shit-talker?”

“I’m doin’ my job, aren’t I?” Toji Fushiguro, your gym instructor for the past few months, has been a driving force in your physical journey. With his help, you’ve been disciplining yourself in and outside of the facility, maintaining a good diet, and keeping your body active in a balanced fashion. The gratitude you have for him supersedes all. But above all else, throughout the years, the two of you have gotten pretty close and know a good chunk about each other to call yourselves friends – at least, that’s what you’ve been doing. “Alright, that’s enough lifting for today; time for stretches.”

Aside from a friend, there is something else you refer to him as – something you’d rather die than admit out loud. Toji, your trainer, is your gym crush. Well, your crush in general.

Can you really blame yourself, though? Look at the man! When you first look at him, his physique alone is enough to keep you staring at him for hours and hours on end. Strong, bulky arms that look like they could pick up five treadmills in one sitting and with veins that decorate up to his forearm can effortlessly grab the attention of the normal eye. He’s wearing his black fitted tee, so tight that it was as if it was vacuum sealed to perfectly showcase the outline of his abdomen, ribs, and pectorals. And it doesn’t help from the back view either; you can’t count how many times you fell into a short trance from admiring his gorgeous back, from his trapezius to his waist. Every time the man flexes his biceps and triceps, all you can do is internally thank the gods for sculpting such a man to be in front of you. And those beautiful thighs and calves shaped from his black leggings and shorts? Damn.

But the thing about him that has you squeak more than a mouse are his eyes. Forest green orbs that can shift into a stern concentration whenever he’s working on a machine or when he’s observing your form and finds whatever needs correcting. Then there are times when they are mellow and soft when you’re speaking with him or when he’s deep in thought about something until you catch his attention. Then he’d throw a small smile at you — your biggest weakness. The scar on his lip being lifted to a curl never fails to put your stomach into knots.

He’s such an attractive man from the first moment you ever laid your eyes on him. You were bound to fall in love with him one way or another. It just sucks that it’s under such a professional relationship that you have to keep this little unrequited love to yourself.

Which is getting harder and harder every day, especially now when the guy is so close to your face when he’s helping you stretch. Oh, dear lord.

Every time you are done lifting weights, Toji will have you do stretches. He has you do them before and after a workout as they give your muscles time to warm up and straighten from the stress you put on them. So now, as you’re laying on your mat, Toji puts one hand on your right leg to keep it grounded on the floor and his other hand on the back of your left to push it up to your chest. The position has the two of you so close, him being situated between your legs and observing your breathing; it’s so wrong of you to dwell your mind into other things – other raunchier things.

And when he brings both your legs up to your chest, how the fuck are you supposed to calm your heart from exploding!?? You have to close your eyes during all this to not be pulled in by the examination of his gaze under his raven bangs. This is, without a doubt, the best worst part of the workouts. Thankfully, this is the last workout of the week, and the gym is about to close within an hour and a half.

Toji breaks the suffering silence between you two. “Y’re still stiff; take deeper breaths f’r me.”

Oh, if only he knew how your dirty mind took that sentence. You chew on your lip with a gulp, “Maybe I still have a little energy in me that still wants to exercise.”

That made him chortle. “Is that so? Well, maybe after your stretches, you can get on the stairmaster for a few minutes.”

You gawk at him, only furthering the smirk on his face. “Are you serious!?? You promised we wouldn’t do any cardio until next week.”

“Well, next week is around the corner,” Toji moves your knees a bit to the left, bending them further down to your chest so his face could be a little closer to yours. Your brain almost short circuits at the movement, trying to distract yourself from the fact that his groin is mere inches away from your shorts. “So, since ya got the spirit, be a doll and do a few minutes on the machine, okay? Five minutes.”

Your breathing is so slow that you’re too scared to move. Your lips pressed to a thin line to conceal the quiver, and your eyes don’t dare venture down. You already know your body is going through its own internal turmoil, a throbbing sense occurring in your lower regions the more you keep looking at Toji, who lifts a brow from awaiting your response. Oh, this man is going to kill me.

“…Five minutes.”

“Atta girl.” With a scoff, he finally straightens himself and places your legs on the mat. Toji then stands on his feet and grabs his bag. “Gonna head for the showers; finish up those stretches and head for the stepmaster. See ya later, Y/n.” And you watch him leave for the men’s locker room, finally having room to breathe. Before you can conclude your stretches with a cobra and child’s pose, you grumble to yourself in a whisper.

Why the hell did I have to fall in love with such a snarky, gruff, older guy like him…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You enter the locker room after completing the instructed exercise. Your mind is dizzy from walking on the step machine for about fifteen minutes, and your legs are mere minutes from turning into jelly. You curse Toji internally for the insufferable torture you’ve stressed on your poor limbs.

No matter, though; you’re finally done for the evening and can head home to your soft bed. The gym will close soon, so perhaps you could use the locker room showers to freshen up. But then again, after the strain you’ve put on your body for almost two hours, all you want to do is be home and listen to your favorite music. I don’t feel like cooking today…

Further into the room, you can hear the sound of someone using the showers, indicating you had picked the right idea to head home. You head for the locker side to grab your items to put in your bag before leaving, and it’s then that you hear the water stop running from where the showers are. Oh, shit, make this quick, Y/n!

In front of you is the locker with the number you’re familiar with — where you always leave your things, like your own spot. You open it only to find….nothing is in the locker? Huh? Where are my leggings? And my phone??

Come to think of it, where’s your duffel bag that you usually leave on the bench against the lockers? You’ve never had a problem with people stealing from you in this place, so how does a bag full of your stuff magically disappear? There is a bag in here, but it’s definitely not yours. And now that you get a good look, you start to notice that the color of the lockers is of a different, darker shade than what you’re usually accustomed to. Wait a minute, am I in the wrong—

“Y/n?”

You go still at the familiar voice. Oh no, please, God, no. There’s no way. Your eyes teeter to the corner as you ever-so-slowly turn to the direction where that voice was coming from. And, of course, it was your personal trainer, who is—OH MY GOD!!!

Toji stands afar on the opposite side of you from the showers, without clothing, his body and hair completely drenched from water. The only thing that covers him is a white towel wrapped around his lower body. His body, which you’re used to seeing being snug tight by his gym clothes, is out for you to see as water trickled down from his clavicle, pecs, ribcage, and abs. For a split second, you take in as much of the image as you can, storing this as it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity in your mind (maybe to fuel more of your erotic fantasies when you go home). But you avert your gaze when your eyes travel down his abs, counting each one until you reach below his belly button, where strays of dark hair become more prominent with a trail down his pelvis and—Okay, stop looking, stop looking!!

“M–Mr. Fushiguro!?” You croak, eyes wide with realization at what you’ve just done. Your dumbass just walked into the men’s locker room without checking first. And to add salt to the wound, your crush is the first person to catch you in the act, “O-Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to walk in here! I’ll get going—“

“No, no, Y/n, calm down,” Toji walks to where you’re standing; a mini-heart attack was about to be deployed until the older man turned to the side to grab for something in his bag. He pulls out a smaller towel. “Ya walked in here on accident, right?”

You gulp, seeing the steam from the shower still leave from Toji’s nude body. “Uhm, yeahhh, I don’t know where my head was at. Sorry…”

The gym instructor scoffs at your apology. “It happens; must’ve been a bit light-headed from the exercise and forgot where y’re at. Heh, guess those five minutes did more damage than I thought.”

“Ahaha, yeah, it was…pretty….dreadful……” Were you distracted? Yup. Because Toji used the towel he pulled from his bag to wipe off the water from his arms and face. You couldn’t help but survey the man’s movements, watching the small white towel brush on his triceps and glide down to his torso. You continue watching the small towel until your eyes drift to the happy trail on his pelvis. Your breathing goes uneven, thinking of more indecent things that connect with the trail of hair and the limb that’s shielded by the towel around Toji’s waist.

“…–ou there…Y/n?” Your name said to you snaps you back, realizing where you are and what you were doing. Your eyes crawl back to Toji’s face, who throws a small smile at you. “Eyes up here, sweetie.” Sweetie?!? If the floor could give way and swallow you, that would be appreciated. “Is there anythin’ else you need to tell me while y’re here?”

No, I’m in the men’s locker room, so I need to hurry and get the fuck out! “Uhmm, n-nope, nothing at all! So…I better get going now. See you later, Mr. Fushiguro!” You turn on the heel of your foot to head for the door, only able to take about five giant steps before Toji stops you again.

“How was it today?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, what now!? You look over your shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“The workout. How was it?”

“It…It was, umm, alright, I guess. I feel like I could’ve done better on the weights.”

“And why is that?”

Your body turns to have your front fully face him again. “Well, I mean, I was struggling at the last few reps…I’m sure you noticed, too, since you scolded me about it.”

He hums. “Ya know I correct you because, I know, you can do better, right, Y/n?” It was rhetoric, but you humor him with a slow nod. He brings the small towel to his head and dries his damp hair. “I’ve had many clients who come at me with everything they got or burned out before the first two months. But don’t worry, Y/n, I can tell you take pride in what we’re doing, and it’s good to know…”

His words drown out from your ears. You didn’t mean for it to – you really didn’t. But while Toji was fixing his hair, you snuck more peeks at his body, enjoying his side profile. Admiring the way his arms move and flex, following the rocky silhouette of his abs that lead down to the towel again, you gasp at the dent of something that appears to be between Toji’s legs. Good lord, even with the cotton material covering him, you can still see it and—

“….Y/n.” Oh no, I did it again. You gulp with eyes venturing back to Toji’s face; the grin grew broader than before. “That's twice, sweet thing.”

“S–Sorry, Mr. Fushiguro. It’s just that you have a...uhhh…” The heat in your ears makes it hard to concentrate on looking at the ground, anything to avoid your instructor’s gaze. “…..areallynicebody—“

“Hmm? I didn’t hear that, sweetie,” Sweetie? Sweetie!? Why'd he call me that? What you should be questioning is why that nickname made your stomach flip. But who are you kidding — if anyone had a crush on their instructor and were called a cute name like that, of course, they’d be as hot as a volcano. “Didn’t catch that, say it fr’ me again.”

“I–I said that,” Oh for fuck’s sake, this is so embarrassing! “You have a nice body…An attractive body, really…” The heat on your cheeks and ears is reaching heights that would have you combust at any moment. It’s what you’d hope for, honestly. It’s bad enough you’re stuck in the men’s locker room for not paying attention; now you’re here admitting to your instructor that you got the hots for him. God, please strike me here and now!

Toji says nothing after you say that, and it has your nerves at an all-time high, wondering if you should wait for his reply or just dash for the door and hope no one sees you leaving the men’s locker room. However, his voice breaks the silence, “I can say the same fr’ you.”

Oh, stop it. “Oh, please, no need to butter me up, Mr. Fushigu—“

“I’m serious.” He shuts down your argument down your argument before you can even finish. “C’mere.”

Why did you do what you were about to do? You could’ve just declined, exited the facility, and headed straight home to wallow away about this entire interaction, maybe find a different gym to form a membership with. But you didn’t. Instead, with downcast eyes, you slowly approached your instructor, who stood behind the locker bench. “Closer,” he says, noting how you’re about two arms length away from him, which you meekly decrease to one. “You don’t think ya got a nice body?”

The adjacency between you two was too much for you, your face minutes from imploding. Too shy for words, you settle for a nod to give.

“How come?”

For God’s sake, this is not a conversation you want to have now with your crush instructor in the middle of the men’s locker room. “I…Well, Mr. Fushiguro—“

“Toji,” he cuts you off, discarding the small towel to the top of his bag. “Y’re over here tellin’ me I look good when you’re the one lookin’ like you could strike any guy that walks up in this place. Doncha think so?”

Again, your eyes avoided his toweled figure, focusing on the tiled floor beneath your sneakers. “I guess, but…Toji, when compared to you, I—“

“Then that’s what ya shouldn’t be doin’, who told you to compare y'rself to others?” Toji brings a hand to your chin to make your avoidant peer placed on him, a move you were not mentally strapped in for. “I’m me, and y’re you, right?”

“Right…”

“And that’s a good thing,” the hand on your chin slides down to the inside of your hoodie, his forefinger sneaking under the band of your sports bra. It makes your breathing stop. “But ya know what else I think?”

“What?” You sounded so low – so tiny – you didn’t know if he could hear you. He then brings his face close to your ear, and you could’ve sworn you almost felt your heart jump out of your throat. His free hand comes around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. The cotton of the towel now brushed your leg, and you could sink into a pool of embarrassment at the gasp you let out.

His voice was hoarse and low, the air from his nostrils grazing the skin of your ear. “…I think y’r body is the sexiest thing I’ve seen.”

The sentence hit you like a truck, your heart almost giving in to a complete shutdown. “Huh–Ohhhh, wait,” Toji takes a nibble of your ear while his hand slithers your hoodie off of you, freeing your arms and covered chest where he creeps his hand inside next. You whimper at his fingers on your nipples that harden at his grinding touch. “Toji, wait, please wait…Do you really mean—“

“Mhmm, I do,” He coos, and a kiss to your neck nearly has you give way and lose balance; lucky for you, Toji was smart enough to have a leg between yours. “Now that I have you here, I’ll prove it.”

“We’re—Ahhnnn…But we’re in the men’s locker room,” Toji brings his face up to look at you, your half-lidded eyes locked with his emerald orbs. “Someone could see us…”

Your worries are taken with a caress to your cheek. “Don’t worry about other people when y’re with me. I gotcha, baby.”

“And I’m…Ohooo, really sweaty…”

“Nothin’ a shower can’t fix.”

And before you refute him again, Toji places his scarred lips onto yours, a shocked moan muffled as he kisses and sucks on your bottom lip. The hand in your bra now positions to the back of your neck, positioning you for him to deepen the kiss once you allow him access to your mouth. And once you kiss him back, all the reins of restraint have been discarded along with your hoodie to the floor.

The sounds of lips smacking get louder by the second, the passion in the kiss unraveling when you bring your hands to cup his cheek and have his face practically glued to yours. And Toji complies, shoving his tongue to tease and play with yours. The hand that was on your waist comes down to your ass for him to grope with the flesh, urging more of your sobs to be taken from him. Is it possible for your brain to turn into mush from a kiss? You’re finding that out now, breaking the kiss to gather whatever air you can before Toji claims your lips again.

The leg you’re riding on is nestled between your thighs, rubbing against the groin of your shorts. With every kiss and hump comes a grind on his leg, and it alleviates the growing ache that’s flourishing in your panties. Shivers travel up your spine and heighten your horniness, this elated feeling so dangerous that you could turn into putty at any second.

Toji lets go of your lips with a heavy pant, breathlessly snickering at his work; turning his cute client into a mess flipped a switch he’s been dying to indulge with. “Mmmm, y’re too fuckin’ cute, baby,” he wipes your mouth before letting you go; you hold back a whine when he removes his warm figure from you and steps back. It’s then that your instructor finally removes the towel that’s been shielding a now-discernible tent. The white towel meets the floor, and you follow his happy trail to meet with his erection, a sight that makes your jaw drop. The older man takes a seat on the bench behind him, and his legs spread out for his dick and balls to be ever-so-present and seen.

“Ya see how crazy you and y’r body make me?” He bites his lip, getting more turned on with you marveling at him and his length. “C’mere, angel, lemme see what you can do.” It takes a good mental slap to snap out of your frozen state and look at the thing you’ve been imagining all these months. Now, when the chance has finally been brought to you, how could you pass this up? Following Toji’s command, you come close and go to your knees between his legs.

The sheer size and girth of his length nearly put you in a trance, your eyes taking every detail of his erection before your eyes. Every dent and curve, the prominent veins from the underside, and the oddly pretty pink tip where bits of precum dare protrude from the urethra. Your raised hand has hesitance, yet Toji is quick to assuage your unease, taking your hand with his and wrapping it on his cock. The rough skin on your palm hitches your breath, “Hmmm, oh fuck. Yeah, just like that, princess.”

And there he goes again, egging you on with more cute pet names. Your hand slides up and down along his shaft from the tip to the base, and the sensation of its veins is so raunchy for your overwhelmed fingertips. Toji’s gruff hums to your touches stick to your ears the most, a sound you never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be lucky enough to hear. You want to keep hearing them, want them to be stored in your memory for as long as you can. And when you meekly tease his glans with a tiny lick, the hiss he expresses turns you on even more, so much so that you take the tip with patience and start to suck.

Toji throws his head back to the lockers behind him; the feeling of your tongue rolling around his girth as you inhale his cock is crazy. Fuck, it felt so good – he has to fight the urge to rut into your hollow cheeks and puffy lips. “Hahhh…Mmmm, damn….Ahahaha, ya know how to use that mouth of y’rs, Y/n. Keep suckin’ me off like that, and I’ll—Ohhh! Shit, shit, shiiiit,” he wasn’t prepared for you to take in his entire erection to the hilt. The tightness of your throat around him sends shivers, having to use the bench to grip onto.

You bob your head along his length, a hand accompanying the motions to further the exhilaration. Spit and come wet your palm, yet you’re too focused on the task to care, the haze of your brain increasing every time your lips meet the pubes of his pelvis. The jerk of his hips entails that you’re doing a good job, Toji bringing a hand to the back of your head when you kiss and lick on the head of his cock. You take note, assuming that it’s his weak spot, and continue to suck and tease the tip some more, massaging his testicles which almost had him choke.

“—Hnnmph! Fuckin’ shit, I can’t…” Toji then has enough of this ribbing pleasure, unable to hold it anymore. With a careful hold on your skull, he stands from the bench and plows your face with his member. The harsh hit of his hips propelling his dick down to the deep crevices of your throat was sudden; the assault on your uvula results in your gag reflex; however, Toji was here to calm you down, “It’s alright, angel, breathe fr’ me.” He caters to you with a mediocre rhythm to the hips, the movement relieving the abrupt stress to your throat as you hum on his cock. You find purchase on his thighs to stabilize yourself while he plays with you orally, dialing up the pumps to your mouth until it reaches an erratic mood. Fuck, it has your head ringing, but the growing twinges and throbs between your legs practically excite you for more. Goddamn, it feels so good. So fucking good. “Jesus Christ—Y/n, I’m ‘bout to cum. Keep swirlin’ that tongue…Nnmmm, fuuck, right there, right there—Ahhhck!!”

His release comes with a few rough hits to your lips, his balls hitting your chin until they’re pressed against it. He pups his load into you, and you take it like a champ, letting the fluid venture down as the girth pulsates around your walls. His choked breathing eventually simmers down, giving it a few long seconds before he steadily removes himself from your warm cavity. The last remnants of his white substance paint your tongue, your saliva coating him. And with a voluntary swallow, you open your mouth again to showcase your clean change.

“Heh, didn’t even have to tell you,” Toji chortles, bringing a thumb to wipe your chin. “Good girl.”

KA-CHA! CREEEEK!!

Wide green eyes shoot wide along with yours, and the both of you go frozen rigid. That was most definitely the sound of a door opening. The door to the men’s locker room, where you are on your knees, in front of your personal instructor, with his dick out for the whole world to see. The blood in your body runs cold, and your stomach drops to the chilly floor. Oh, it’s over. It’s done. Your life is officially coming to an end. Welp, it’s time for me to think of a good suicide note when I get home and—

Pause on that. Because one moment you were thinking of your demise from this discomfiting situation, next you’re being dragged by Toji to the other part of the locker room, the showers. He swiftly opens a curtain and throws you both inside with a close, and the wet tiles soaked to your socks have you cringe, so you take them off.

“Hello?” It’s a guy’s voice, of course — Ino’s. The young man is probably inspecting the male locker rooms before they close for the night like usual. You don’t dare speak so much as a letter when the footsteps draw closer to the showers, your heart rate spiking to a nervous high, and your breathing shallow. This is worse; now you’re in a confined space, face-to-face with Toji, who is utterly nude, towel left back on the bench. Your eyes locked with his, and your ears to the sounds of shoes entering the plane. “Anyone here? Saw some stuff at the front.”

“Yeah, I’m here,” your expression turns to sheer terror, wide orbs looking at the raven-haired man who spoke. No! Why would you say something!?

“Hmm? Toji, that you?” Ino’s voice comes closer, in front of the shower curtain that shields you from his field of vision. Your heart is on the verge of dropping to your intestines. “You’re still here? Figured you’d be home by now.”

“Nah, I’m still here. Just about to finish up and head out.” Toji then turns on the faucet, cold peeps of water hitting your sweaty skin, panties, and sports bra. And, of course, it catches you off guard. OH FUUUUUU— You don’t scream. You can’t. Instead, you shield your mouth and turn your back to Toji after giving him the most outstanding death glare of your life, which the older finds amusement in. You wipe your face from the water, cursing internally at this entire predicament.

“Oh, okay, cool. I was just worried someone left their stuff on that bench over there. Carry on, and have a good night!” Ino dismisses himself and leaves the showers, and you exhale a silent sigh of relief. Oh, thank goodness…

Toji, on the other hand, sees your relieved state, and he can’t help but grin to himself with what he’s about to do. Moving closer to you, he brings his wet hands to your sports bra and immediately goes to fondling your breasts. A moan sneaks past you at the contact, prompting him to grope you even more. “T–Toji,” the water gradually gets warmer, juxtaposing with his cold fingers. “Stop, we have to leave, this is—Ohooo…” He tweaks your nipples with his forefinger and thumbs, and a leg sneaks in between yours.

“Relax, dollface, it’s just you and me here,” Oh, sweet Lord, you almost fell to your knees when he whispered to your ear and a teasing lick to your helix. “Got ya all to myself, now…” Toji kisses the crook of your neck, his wet hair brushing your cheek while he snakes his hand down into your panties. The way his fingers graze your clit again has you arch your back to him, another hushed shriek when he bullies his way between your folds.

“Hey, Toji?” Ino’s voice again. Back to anxious stakes now that Toji’s toying with you. Goddamn it, Ino! What are you still doing here!? “I noticed you left your towel on the bench over there. But I also saw Y/n’s hoodie there.” Oh, fuck me!! Shit, shit, shit—"Ohhmph!!"

With quickness, you covered your mouth before your moan caught the ears of the front desk employee. And the reason for that is that Toji pulled down your soaked underwear and gave your chasm a sudden lick. If Ino weren’t back here, you’d give your personal trainer the nastiest kick to the throat you could ever do. But when he inserts a finger inside you, your aggression withered away in seconds.

“Huh? Ohh, yeah, ‘bout that,” Toji stands back up and continues to finger you, chuckling at the sight of your trembling figure using the wall as leverage. “I saw ‘em before headin’ to the locker room. We talked for a while, but then they said they needed to change and told me to hold their hoodie for ‘em.” He says it so casually, all the while scraping your inner walls with the tip of his forefinger, summoning hushed cries that turn to silent screams when his free hand comes down to playfully pinch and press on your clitoris. God, this is too much torture for one night.

Ino keeps questioning. “Really? I had someone check the other locker rooms, and she said she didn’t see anyone or anything except for a few personal items and leggings in one of the lockers. I’m guessing those would be Y/n’s, but where could they be?” Little did he know that you were just a curtain pull away from being found, chewing hard on your lip to quash your screams from the erratic swiping on your clit and the curving hits of his digits in your wetness.

“Mmmm, they probably are at another part of the gym or waitin’ for me at the front.” He lies effortlessly, yet his attention is still on you as he removes his fingers from you, the pleasure subsiding from the removal. Instead, he brings his erection in between your folds and humps you, and the feeling of his dick on your lips worsens the throbs in your awaiting cunt. With the heat coming from the shower and your uneven breaths, you’re bound to faint at any moment.

“Ahh, makes sense. Alright, I’ll try and find them then,” you don’t say anything, just hesitant breaths when you feel the tip of Toji’s cock align and lightly push to your slick-coated entrance. Holy fuck, this is actually happening! Your lips quiver when Toji comes down to your ear to tell you to relax your body from tension, quietly maneuvering you by pulling your lower half to him. You do big inhales and exhales while the man pushes his cockhead to enter your cunt, wincing at the few seconds of pain that accompany each push. “See you later, Toji, and I put your towel on the hood next to your shower for when you’re done. Good night!”

“See ya.” And with Toji’s dismissal, Ino’s footsteps draw farther and farther from where you two are. And the moment you hear the locker room door slam close, Toji pushes the entire cockhead inside of you. Finally, you can squeal out to your heart’s content, balling your fists on the shower wall while your personal trainer wedges his length inside of you and stretches your walls. The girth was definitely something you knew would be an obstacle to accommodate, and it’s worse when your slit keeps clamping around the foreign limb invading inside. Tears begin to swell from the stinging touch, not that they would be distinguished by the shower water hitting behind you and Toji.

“Haahh, ahahhnn, mmmm,” Your wails seep out from your system right as the base of his cock kisses your lower region lips. And after a few seconds, he starts with a slow pace. Knowing that you can feel every dent and vein within you is insane to comprehend; the heat across your cheeks cranks up due to the euphoric sensations. “Ohhhh, my God, Tojiii. I’m so full…”

Toji pecks on your shoulder, “Yeah, sweet thing? I bet so. Just be a good girl and keep grippin’ on me like that, alright? Gonna start movin’ now…” His hips rut into your vagina, pulling his shaft slowly outward and rushing it back inward. Holy shit, it felt so dreamlike — having him actually move inside of you. But it was very much real; having his pelvis meeting the flesh of your ass was proof of such.

A hand snakes down to your clitoris, and a gasp leaves your lips at the brush of his thumb rubbing against it. Your legs tremble at the flick of his finger on your bud, and the pace of his thrusts crank up in speed, making it hard to concentrate on one thing. So many senses are being activated all at once; the shower water raining down on your back, the exhilarating combination of Toji’s dick grinding down on your insides, and the swipes and pinches on your precious clitoris. God, it was all too much.

“Arch some more fr’ me, princess,” Toji gets up to push your back further down, the walls of your chasm clinging onto him as the more exposed opening gives room for you to be plowed. “Hnnmm, shit, feels so good…Hey, let’s try somethin’ different.”

By the time the last bit of his sentence could be registered, he already had you turned to face him, folding your arms around his neck. You didn’t know what for until he hoisted you up, and then you instinctively grabbed hold for dear life before your back hit the wall, your legs wrapped around him while he held you by the thighs. Toji brings his member back to your labia to insert it back inside, and you two moan at the contact again. Oh, this was different – never have you been lifted like this. And to be elevated by your gym crush, in this connotation, is enough to have you appalled.

But what made your breath hitch the most was Toji’s face being up close and personal. The bangs stuck to his forehead thanks to the shower water; his jet-black hair was wet and slicked. Trails flow down his face, drops of water plummeting from his nose and chin. And – oh, sweet Jesus – those green eyes of his, so striking as if they could pierce right through you. They were piercing through you. He took in your expression just as you were his, eyes filled with wanton desire, and it was all directed towards you – for you. He flashes a small smile, teeth peeking from beneath his scarred lips.

Oh, my God. You turn to the side to hide your face from his gaze; it definitely wasn’t the water that was making your cheeks and ears hot at that moment. But that didn’t fly with Toji. He sneaks into a rut that has you jump on his cock, the new position giving his dick an angle to hit your cervix. Because of that, the jab erupts a shriek you had no preparation for withholding.

“Heh, aht, aht, don’t do that,” Oh, he knows he’s in control of this entire situation; you can hear it in his patronizing chortle. “Don’t hide that pretty face from me, doll,” he kisses your cheek and trails down to the crook of your neck. “Let me hear you—Aiishhh! Oh, fuuck…”

Once Toji begins to jerk his hips to you, you dwell into a pleasure that you never knew existed. Toji’s length scrapes your inner walls like crazy, like a euphoric itch. The fact that you’re bouncing on the cock of your personal trainer is scary to comprehend. Having him see you like this, hearing you moan and wail for him, you never felt more exposed in your entire life. And also, him holding you like you weigh nothing and fucking you in the men’s locker room showers?! What the actual fuck!? This is actually so embarrassing – I could die!

But why would you? The commotion between your legs feels way too good to bring this to a stop – you two are already joined in a union, so why stop? Every stroke to your slit sends a shiver up your spine, clamping onto him every time he brushes up on your sweet spots that make your nerves tingle. And the occasional jabs to your tender cervix? Damn, the stimulation was enough to have you faint with the heat growing tenfold.

“Mmmff, hoohhh, ohhhhh,” your cries are drowned out by the shower, only heard by Toji. Speaking of, this position gives you proximity to observe his expression. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes shut as if he’s in the zone. The huffs of breath he takes with every roll of his pelvis are so hot to the ear that you wouldn’t mind listening to them all day. Anytime the walls of your wetness clamp onto him, he moans and hushed curses at the feeling of you wanting him. He’s an attractive man, but, holy fuck, this was a sight you thought you’d never see in a million years.

“—Khhhh! Hnmph, ahhhh,” Through the gruff pants, Toji opens his eyes half-lidded, catching you in the moment of staring right at him. You clench onto him; why does this man have to look so fucking sexy!? He smirks, “How we feelin’ now, baby?”

“Hahhh, I–I’m—Ohhh!! Fucking shiiiitt,” you cry out when he slams deep into you, making your toes curl, and your words come out in slurs. “It’s too muuchh, Tojiii, ughhh!! T–Tooo muuuuch…”

“Ya gettin’ close?” Oh, yes, you were. You could feel it through the trembles climbing up your fibers. Your brows trench at the high, and Toji was mean enough to sneak a pinch to the clitoris without you noticing. Your legs tighten around his waist, and you shake your head hurriedly. He chuckles, releasing your clit from his rough fingers and putting his forehead to yours. “C’mon, angel, I won’t know what you want if ya don’t say it.”

Fuck, he’s such a meanie. You love it so fucking much. You mewl to him, “Pleaseee, Tojiii, I want it so bad!”

He lifts a brow. “Want what?”

“—To cum!! Pleasepleaseee, I wanna cum on you, I want it—Ahaahhnn!!” Fuck, it’s coming. Almost there.

That’s all he needed to hear, the grin on his face broadening at your response. “Cum on me, then. I’m right here to catch ya, princess.” His hand returns to your clitoris, pressing down on the delicate button to the point where all he can hear is your sweet screams of lust. His thrusts now get erratically fast, having you rebound to the hilt of his length, the smacks of skin slapping against each other fill the confined space of the shower. And the climb of your aroused high increases until it comes crashing down; you let out one last howl as the electric shocks course through your body, and your release is freed. Your walls squeeze hard onto Toji as you indulge in your climax; him pistoning his cock to your sensitive labia adds to the chilling sensitivity. Your cunt flutters around his cock while you experience your crescendo, your eyes screwed shut to enhance the experience, not aware of Toji watching you ride out your orgasm on him.

The trembles calm down, the shocks subside, and your breathing descends into a steady rhythm. Throwing your head back, you rest your back against the wall while still in Toji’s hold, using this time to indulge yourself in this moment of clarity.

Toji lets out a tiny laugh, bringing his face to your neck to suck on it. “That felt good, sweet thing?” You sigh out of breath, nodding to his question. “Hmmm, good. But ya know I’m not done, right?” Your blood ran cold, your body rigid still. Wait, huh? “I let you have your fun, so be a good girl, and lemme have mine.”

The involuntary twitch of your slit should give you a clue as to how the news hit you, and you can't tell if it'll be him or the shower that will have you melting like a puddle by the time this is over...

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Haibara walks out to the front desk, where Ino hurriedly stuffs his phone back into his pocket, away from his superior’s eyes. Fortunately for the younger man, the older one didn’t see his device. “Hey, Ino, I got a question.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” The associate fidgets with his brown hair under his rolled-up ski mask.

“Have you seen Mr. Fushiguro and Y/n today? Toji told me he couldn’t make it for Monday night, but I haven’t seen Y/n that day or Wednesday.” The older brunette looks around to find any resembling cues, but his eyes see nothing that sparks familiarity.

Ino blinks before answering. “No. And now that you mention it, I haven’t seen or heard from them since last week…”

Haibara leans on the desk and sighs. “Hope Y/n’s doing all right. Usually, they’d call or shoot a text telling me they couldn’t make it for their appointments with Fushiguro. But this is twice where neither of them show up.”

“Hmm, can’t say I have an idea.” The other shrugs at his superior’s concerns. “I didn’t get a call or text from Y/n either, so maybe I’ll give ‘em one after my shift. Heh. Let’s hope they didn’t replace us with another gym.”

With trenched brows, Haibara took offense to the younger brunette’s words. “Cut that out, man! I’d be pretty upset if they just suddenly stopped showing up here. Half a year of coming in and out and getting to know each other, only for them to just vanish like that…At the very least, they could give a call!” He passionately bangs on the front desk, giving Ino a startle.

RING-RING-RING!! RING-RING-RING!!

The two froze at the sudden ring of the desk phone as if Haibara’s fist magically granted them a call. And by the exchanged glances they shared before Ino picked up the phone, they better hope it wasn’t the call they were expecting. “Hello, this is Golden Gate Gym. My name is Takuma Ino; what can I do for you?”

“Hey, is that you, Ino?”

“Hey, Y/n!” Ino turns to Haibara, whose eyes share the same perplexity as his. “It’s good to hear from you; where’ve you been? You’ve been MIA for almost a week.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had a little accident and sprained my ankle; I couldn’t come to the gym on Monday and Wednesday.”

“Oh, shit, for real?” Haibara watched the younger man’s tone change to concern, which didn’t help his nerves either. “Sorry to hear about that, but it’s a good call not coming here and taking care of yourself.”

“Yeah, thanks. Is Haibara there with you by any chance?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s right next to me, actually.” Ino takes the initiative to give the darker brunette the phone to speak with the one on the other side of the line. Haibara outstretches his arm to take the phone and put the receiving end to his ear. “Yo, Y/n!”

“Hey, Haihai. I meant to call you Wednesday, but I’m letting you know that Mr. Fushiguro and I are still doing our weekly appointments.”

Haibara sighs in relief internally, giving Ino a thumbs up. “Oh, thank God! You two had me worried there for a second. We didn’t see you guys here and thought you’d be a no-show again.”

“Yeah, sorry for the scare. Mr. Fushiguro found out about it and decided it would be….Haahhh….best for me to do my regimine at my apartment instead…”

“Well, that’s nice of him to look out for you with your ankle. I’m sure he’s doing what he can to—“

“Ahaahhnn!!”

A sudden yelp pops into the call out of nowhere and completely takes Haibara aback from the phone as if it was so out of place for the topic that was taking place. Ino notices it when the darker brunette gives him a brief perplexed look, which the younger shrugs at. “Uhh, Y/n? You busy right now?”

Oh, you were busy, all right. You’re at your apartment right now. Your ankle? Absolutely fine, nothing wrong about it in the slightest. The only change, however, is not being at the gym for this entire week and staying home instead. Why?

How about asking your personal trainer who has you propped upside down, standing up with his hands holding you by your ass, stuffing his face to your exposed cunt which he licks and sucks on. The feeling of his tongue digging through your labia has your hips jerking, but his strong arms exhibit unmoving effort in keeping your wetness in his mouth. His pants down to his knees, and his erect length in your hand and brushing your cheek. This is most definitely not the at-home exercise that Haibara is thinking of.

“…Hello?…Y/n, you there?”

Oh, shit! “Y–Yeah, I’m here! Sorry, my ankle is acting up on me—Ohhhh…Fushiguro’s looking at it for me…” Oh, please, he’s not checking shit; fucker indulging himself between your asscheecks, ravishing your folds like a sweet fruit to his tastebuds.

“Oh! So you two are exercising together right now?” Toji nibbles on your vagina and grazes with his teeth, having you gasp and twitch. His tongue surprising your clit prompts a choked whine. “That’s good to know then! Alright then, see you guys when you’re ready to return to the gym. And tell Toji not to put too much on you, ya hear?”

“—Khhhh, mhmm…I’ll give him an earful for you. See you later, Haibara…”

“Great, see ya. Happy Friday!”

And with that farewell, you can finally toss the phone down and coo to your heart’s content, biting your lips at Toji stuffing his mouth on your bare chasm; his muffled groans vibrate your lower half like crazy. “Ohhooo!! Ohhhfuckkk, I’m gonna cumm,” your words slur with a suck to your clitoris, your hips bucking involuntarily. “Lemme cum, Tojiiii, I wanna—Ahaaaa!!”

He removes his face from your ass with an exhale as if he was dying for breath. But based on the grin plastered on his face, he wouldn’t mind being in this position for a little while. “Oh, I don’t think so, doll. I don’t think ya deserve to cum in my mouth.”

That was the last thing you wanted to hear right now. “Ahahnn!! You’re such an asshole, Toji…”

He chuckles crudely. “That’s where I’m gonna play with next if you don’t stuff my dick in that pretty mouth of y’rs already. Suck me good; then maybe I’ll let the princess cum all over me.”

Broad strokes from his pelvis rub his dick on your cheek, a reminder of your part of this endeavor that you must partake in. The smell of him overwhelms your nostrils into a pornographic trance, your head pounding just from looking at it. You gulp and take the tip into your mouth, sucking and licking the precum off while your hands glide up and down his shaft. “Good girl, good girl…” Toji goes back to smacking his lips on your folds, moving his tongue in whirlpool motions that have you moaning on his cock. God, it feels so good, so fucking good. You can see yourself becoming addicted to this, and that’s a bit scary seeing this professional relationship drift to something more touchy and personal…

…But then again, there’s nothing wrong with that, right?

7K notes · View notes

tojirights · 3 months

Note

Honestly think you're one of the best writers for Alastor in this fandom! Your stuff is always brilliant and the characterisation is perfect!

Had the idea last night: Alastor and reader going multiple rounds, and reader still wanting more and being full of energy but Alastor being absolutely out of it and completely shattered, so he uses his tentacles instead, because what kind of gentleman keeps his lady wanting?

Just an excuse to request tentacle sex with everyone's favourite "deer".

a/n: im gonna be so real with you, im not really sure if the tentacles are like, real apendages or if they're part of his shadow soooo i wrote them as the latter. hope it makes sense!! thank you love :') y'all are too nice 🩷

if there was one thing you weren’t expecting to still have in hell, it was your damn hormonal cycle. you didn’t necessarily have a period, but by god, you swore you still ovulated. it felt even worse than before, the primal need threatened to burn a hole through you. you always felt like a bother to alastor during this week of the month, begging and pleading for him to fuck you for hours. but, alastor never turned you away.

today though, you were especially needy. alastor had already made you cum a handful of times and had cum twice himself. he was exhausted. yet, there you were at the edge of his bed, eyes still filled with lust. “my goodess…” alastor chuckles, shaking his head. “i’m not sure i have much left in the tank, darling.” he cups your cheek, watching tears well up in your eyes. “i-i’m sorry-” he shushes you before you can continue. “did i say anything about stopping? i’d never dream of leaving my lady hanging when she needs me.”

“but…” you frown, watching alastor’s smile turn to smirk. “i have a few tricks up my sleeve, my dear. lay back.” your eyes widen as there’s a flash of green light, followed by five tentacle-like appendages sprout from alastor’s back. “w-what?” adrenaline surges through you as well as a mix of excitement and nerves. “you’re gonna… use those?” you gulp, watching the tentacles slither towards you. “why of course!” alastor snickers, seeing your apprehension. “don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours." he coos, watching with hungry yet tired eyes.

the shadow apendages wrap around your thighs, cold to the touch but not unpleasant. as they slowly spread your legs, another slides between them. it's almost embarrassing the way your legs shake with anticipation, the cool tip of the tentacles swiping up your slit. "o-oh, that's..." you sigh in relief when you're suddenly being filled. "how's that darling?" alastor hums, watching as you open wider around him. "that's... oh god alastor..." you pant, every slow thrust of his tentacle-like shadow making your head dizzy.

the foreign feeling of being stretched so wide has you already teetering on the edge. without warning, alastor curls the apendage while picking up pace, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. "gonna-" you mewl, hips arching off the bed with every thrust. "k-keep going please. 'm gonna cum." every whine makes alastor almost wish his cock was back inside of you, knowing just how hard you're clamping down on his shadow.

but the sight of you writhing, gripping the sheets like you're life depended on it was something he's grateful to be seeing from afar. the buildup to your orgasm comes strong, the coil in your stomach snapping from the tension and- "oooh, you really liked that, hm?" alastor's voice is heavy with arousal, pulling you back to reality after cumming. your vision slowly returns, heavy breathing filling your ears. you barely register the soaking mess you've made on the bed. "oh my god. did i..?" your face goes red, embarrasmemt setting in once again. "yes, my sweet. you did, and made quite the mess for us to clean up."

#alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #alastor hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel smut #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin alastor #alastor x you #alastor x you smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel #alastor imagines #hazbin alastor smut #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin alastor x reader

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januaryembrs · 3 days

Text

YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted.

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck.

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin.

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again.

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest.

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him.

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene.

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been.

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men.

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to.

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions.

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,”

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently.

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face.

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet.

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry.

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.”

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage.

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,”

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him.

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them.

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob.

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand.

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter.

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights.

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible.

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was.

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed.

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him.

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands.

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,”

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip.

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in.

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years.

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe.

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe.

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second.

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing.

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late.

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them.

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed.

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new.

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them.

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them.

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently.

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands.

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt.

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building.

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him.

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use.

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard.

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign.

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?”

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,”

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes.

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested.

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again.

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible.

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything).

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright.

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet.

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance.

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,”

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,”

“I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing.

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin.

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down.

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?”

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised.

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point.

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

“Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,”

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion.

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise.

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off.

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him.

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,”

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again.

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his.

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,”

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all.

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him.

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #Post Prison!Spencer Reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

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norrisleclercf1 · 26 days

Text

Have My Baby

Pairing: Mafia!Max x Reader

Words: 4.6K

Rating: R

Warnings: Smut, breeding kink, slight size kink, p in v, oral (f receiving), wrap it before you tap it, dirty talk, mention of murder, etc.

Synopsis: Max wants another baby, but he'd have to convince you first.

A/N: I could cry with finally finishing this, @leclerced, @mariahcarreyyy, and @piastrification since here go babes, hope you love it, since I kept bothering y'all about it. Sorry, love ya ♥️

"Daddy, when do we go see Tante Victoria?" Max looks down and sees Casper playing with his toy cars on the floor. Max was getting ready to go into the office today, having just gotten out of the shower, and debated shaving. "Why would we go see Tante Victoria?" Max picks up the razor, still thinking it over. "Because Mama said she had a baby," Max hums, put the razor down, and moves into the closet.

He slid on his briefs and black dress pants, pulled out a belt, and weaved it through the holes. "That's right. She did have a baby, but she needs to heal first," Max explains, groaning, knees popping as he sits on the floor, joining Casper in playing cars. Are Mama and you going to have another baby?" Max chuckles, but honestly, that thought has been in his mind for a while.

Max wanted nothing more than to have a baby girl, but he needed to slowly convince you. You weren't in love when you two had Casper and Fabian—far from it. The marriage was arranged, and Max was so cold-hearted to you; the only reason the twins were born was out of the duty of needing an heir. Instead, he got two. Max slowly broke down when the boys were around five months old, and something in him changed forever.

It was maybe when someone tried to kill you three, he just snapped, and it made him aware of his feelings. Max didn't want a weakness, yet not showing it created one anyway.

Shaking his head, he leans over and kisses Casper on top of the head, who looks up with identical eyes, smiling. "Daddy, can we go wake Mama?" Max nods and stands, picking up Casper and carrying him into the bedroom. You lay there, sleeping peacefully, clutching onto Max's forgotten pillow. "Be gentle, mijn lieve engel." Casper nods and slowly crawls up, and Max smiles.

He never thought that five years after the twins were born, he would be carrying his little boy and happy at the thought of you waking up and smiling at him. "Mama, the sun is up; you should be up," Max smirks, seeing a small smile pull at your lips, fingers twitching. You probably woke when Caspian first came in and started to play on the bathroom floor while Max showered.

Casper loved being near Max, constantly surrounded by his father, and Max adored it. Fabian was always by your side; Max loved them both equally, but Casper reminded him of him when he was that age. He loved cars and wanted to be by his father. Max refuses to be like his father, but he still remembers the day he snapped at Casper, and the poor baby was terrified of him. Max still never fully forgave himself for that.

"Mama, wake up. Daddy and I need kisses." Max chuckles, moves to your side of the bed, and sits on the edge of it. Yeah, we need kisses," he whispers, giggling. You open your eyes and see your perfect boys, minus the one who loved sleep more than anything. "Well, let me pay the kiss tax then," Sitting up, you kiss Casper all over his face, turning your head. Max is quick and steals a quick kiss before kissing you again, this time slower.

"Ewwww," Casper gags, making you two giggle and pull him into a hug. "Go wake your brother," Max picks up Casper, who kicks and then runs down the hall, yelling Fabian's name. "Good morning," You breathe, and Max swoops down, stealing another kiss; you sigh, feeling his bare chest against your skin. "Go put on another shirt, we don't need another baby," You joke, but Max doesn't laugh. He wants another baby.

"Victoria had her baby." You smile, and Max nods. He wasn't very close to his sister, just enough to have a relationship, but with him being the head of the Dutch Mafia, Victoria didn't want her kids or husband in harm's way. He respected it. "Yes, a little girl. Is she cute?" Max asks, walking to the closet and grabbing a white button-down. "She's so adorable," You gush; you loved being an aunt but a mother even more.

Max smirked and walked back in, buttoning up his shirt. "Our baby girl would be cuter," He makes the comment offhanded, knowing you wouldn't think much of him saying that. He always liked to say your boys were cuter than his nephews. "Yeah," You whisper, looking at the picture of your niece with a smile. Max smiles and moves, pulling you close by your ankles, causing a squeal.

"Hey, you know I love you, right?" Max rarely said it, so when he did, it always caught you off guard and made you nervous. "I know, I've always known." You whisper, pressing your foreheads together before kissing him gently. "Go say bye to the boys. Come home safe to me." Max nods and kisses you one more time, savoring the moment. Sighing, he pulls away and heads to the boy's rooms.

He stops just a little from their door, hearing their laughter and play fighting. "You'll never win!" Fabby yells, and Casper's loud giggles fill the room. Max could listen to that sound for the rest of his life if he could. He did this job so they could laugh and have that innocence for a little longer. Moving, he knocks on the door and pokes his head in; blinking fast, he takes in the scene before him.

"Casper, why are your pants on your head?" The twins giggle like it's some secret, making Max smile softly and enter the room. "We're bandits, Daddy," Fabian says in an obvious tone as if Max should've known what they were doing. "Bandits, hm, alright, my little bandits, get dressed and eat breakfast. I've got to go to work." Max yanks the pj pants off Casper's head, who giggles and grabs some shorts and t-shirts.

Crouching down, Max helps the twins get dressed, giving each a hug and kiss. "Be good for your mother, understand me, little bandits?" Both boys nod, "Boys! Breakfast!" The twins shove each other all the way, laughter on their trail. Max stands and walks past the kitchen; catching your eye, he winks and walks out the door.

"Mommy, sleepy." Looking up, you see the time and notice you missed their nap. Placing your book down, you let Fabby crawl into your arms as Casper was knocked out on the floor. "Can we watch cartoons?" Kissing the top of his head, you pull him closer and nod. "Of course, Scooby-doo?" Fabby's little head moves up and down quickly.

Hearing the theme, you settle in, but with the warmth and weight of your baby, you, too, fall asleep.

Max hated when you didn't answer his calls, but honestly, it was the perfect excuse to get away from work, leaving everything to the kids and letting them get trigger-happy. He was getting older and didn't find the thirst for blood anymore; it's crazy how you and the kids have changed him so much.

There was also a slight butterfly feeling in his stomach. He learned this was called anxiety from you. He was never one to be anxious, but after you had the boys, whenever you didn't answer, or you weren't wearing your tracker. Max gifted you a first-anniversary diamond necklace; it was small, perfect, and didn't draw attention. While the diamond was perfect, underneath it was a little tracker.

You knew it was a tracker and always wore it for your protection. Today, though, you and the boys were having a lazy day as the nice weather had taken a turn, and it was raining. Max tries hard not to think the worst, as the guards alert him that no one has entered or even left the penthouse, so he knows you and the boys are safe. Pulling up, he doesn't bother locking the car as he steps into the elevator and hits his floor.

Living at the top pays off, especially when you own the building. Stepping off, he nods to his guards, and they move back downstairs, where they had only stayed in the house when Max wasn't home. Smiling, he hears the Scooby-Doo cartoon and slowly moves into the living room and stops, taking in the scene before him.

You lay on the couch with Fabby and Casper cuddled into you. Max can't help but think back to when they were newborns when you and Max would be so tired and fall asleep on the couch with them curled between you two. It was Max's first memory of truly falling in love with you and the kids. Moving closer, he leans over the couch and kisses your cheek gently. "Love you," He whispers, removes his shoes to not wake you three, and heads to the kitchen.

Seeing the staff, Max smiles and waves them off. "Have the night off; I can cook." They all nod, say their thanks, and leave out the back door, and Max smiles, thinking about the cook. Rummaging through the fridge, he finds chicken, nuggets, and other foods. He steps up the grill and turns it on. Max moves around cooking dinner and smiles at the finishing products. Grabbing the plates, he places the plates down and puts the boy's sippy cups and you in a small glass of wine with water, and he just drinks water.

Walking in, he sees Casper is awake and makes grabby hands for his Dad. "Take a good nap with Mommy?" Casper lays his head on Max's shoulder and nods his head. "Hungry?" Casper nods again, Max taking him, placing him in his chair, and passing him his apple juice. "Thank you, Daddy." Max turns and feels his heart melt, seeing his sweet boy so soft and warm. "You're welcome, Casper; I will get your mother and brother. Be good." Casper nods and stares at the strawberries beside the meal, and Max chuckles.

Heading in, he leans against the door frame, watching as you trace the outline of Fabian's sleeping face. "Makes me want another," You whisper, sensing Max's eyes watching you. Your husband has to take a deep breath to stop his body from reacting; smiling sweetly, he walks over and pulls you two into his arms. "I wouldn't mind another," You smile hearing those words but shake your head slightly as Fabby whines and rubs his eyes.

"Buddy, I made dinner. Are you ready?" Fabby sits up, and you're lucky you have fast reflexes. You lean back quickly when Fabian runs into the dining room. "You cooked?" You weren't shocked. Max used to cook for you all the time initially, but he stopped a while ago. I felt like doing it while you were sleeping with the boys." Max helps you up and pulls you into his chest, kissing the tip of your nose.

"I made you a salad if you want it. But I grilled chicken, rice, and some veggies. The boys are eating cut-up grilled chicken, a little serving of mac and cheese, and their favorite fruit. I will also try to get them to try out veggies." You swear you fall in love with him all over again hearing that. "You're hot being a dad, you know that?" Max chuckles and leads you to the dining room.

"I'm a daddy," You laugh, smacking his stomach as you join your two boys for dinner.

"Victoria, she's adorable." You coo, washing your hands, eagerly waiting to hold your baby niece. Victoria and her family decided to pay a visit after she was feeling better. Victoria knew it'd be easier to visit and safer for her to come to you four. Fabian and Casper look into the car seat, staring as their cousins play with Max on the floor.

"Mommy, can we have one?" Fabian turns, staring at you with wide eyes, and you think for a moment. Max's attention suddenly zeroes in on you. Fabby, why don't you go play with your Dad and cousins," You deflect the question, and Max stares at you; looking sideways, you blush at the way your husband is staring at you. "Here you go," you sit down and happily take the baby into your arms, Max clears his throat and tells the boys to run off.

The four terrors run down the hall to the twins, and Max stands, fixes his pants, and sits down next to you. "What do you think?" You giggle at Max's dumb question but really consider it. Did you really want a third? Recently, you've been seeing the kid's old baby stuff around, making you miss having a baby in the house. "Can I?" Max whispers as your niece has fallen asleep.

Victoria smiled, relaxing as her husband was watching the boys, letting her have a breath. Max gently takes the baby and stands, rocking side to side, and damn if it didn't do something to you. Seeing your husband in his suit holding a baby girl did something to you in a way you couldn't understand. It made your body light up with need, making it impossible to sit still.

Max knew what he was doing to you; it was a dirty trick, really. He noticed how you reacted to some character on a show who was still in his suit and holding his child. Max ensured they arrived right when he got home, so he had no excuse to change. Seeing how your breathing has picked up, your pupils dilated to the point he couldn't see the color in your eyes.

"Tori, she's so lovely," Max whispers, gently lowering the baby into the little cot. He smiles when she grabs his finger and holds on tight. And strong, too," he giggles and can't help but imagine holding his little girl. A little girl with your hair and his eyes, he could picture it. "Daddy, can we have one?" Max looks down, sees Casper, and chuckles, kneeling slowly with the baby in his arms. "You want another sibling?" Casper nods and leans, kissing his cousin's head gently before running down the hall.

You can't help but think about liking another baby in the house.

Standing in the bathroom, you gently remove your makeup and watch Max climb out of the shower. "Max?" Wrapping the towel around his waist, he grabs his toothbrush. He looks at you through the mirror, waiting for you to continue. "Um, I've been thinking about having another baby," you look down, embarrassed to even say this. "So have I, I'd like a little girl, but I'd be okay with another boy," Shrugging his shoulders, he starts to brush his teeth while you smile. "Yeah, I'd like a little girl too," Picturing yourself holding a baby with a pink hat.

"Do you have to go?" Holding your tea, you sit on the ottoman as Max packs a bag, fast and filled with anger. "Yes, I don't want to go, trust me. The last thing I want to do is leave you and the boys," Zipping it up, he almost breaks the zipper and leans on his dresser, the tension like a rubberband ready to snap.

"I'll tell them you went to visit Victoria," You never liked telling the boys what their father was really doing; they're only four years old. "That's smart, considering she lives far." Max stands up and faces you. It was early, far too early for you to even be up. But, the sound of his phone going off woke you, and here you sat with one lamp, wearing his shirt and drinking tea.

He couldn't love you more. "I love you," He can't help the words pass his lips as he stalks forward, pulling you up and kissing you deeply, but with such passion, you want to cry. It was the kiss he gave you, the same one that said goodbye in such a strange way that made your soul ache. Pulling away, Max smiles, seeing your eyes closed, taking in the kiss. "Come back to me," You whisper, eyes fluttering open as you stare into his. "I'll burn the world down to come home to you." Kissing you gently all over your face, arms strong around your body.

Kissing you one last time, he slips into the shadows, leaving you cold. You never thought Max would be your warmth.

"Mommy, I miss Daddy," Fabian whispers as you tuck him into bed. It was the fifth night Max was gone, and you were trying to explain why he had been gone so long. "I know, baby, I miss Daddy too." Lying on his bed, Casper is fast asleep and curled around his lion plushie Max got him when they were firstborn. Fabian curls more into your side as you read him another bedtime story. Soft breaths pull your attention, and you see Fabian is now passed out, clutching his lion stuffie close.

Sliding slowly off the bed, you're careful not to wake him. Bending down, you ghost over a kiss on both your boy's heads, slipping out of the room and closing the door. Resting your back on the door, you wish you had Max with you; the boys would love to sleep in your bed with your husband. They always slept with you two when he came back from his trips.

Closing your eyes, you take another deep breath, push off, and head to your bedroom. You hated how cold it felt still, how much you craved to smell just a hint of his cologne, his gummy smile when the boys did something that made him so happy, the way he moved through the house like he wasn't there, but you knew from the giggles that trailed him. You missed him in such a way that ached deep within. You fall asleep crying.

Max groans, rolling his neck as he steps into the penthouse. His guards nod, but he waves them away and slips his shoes off, not wanting to wake anyone. Max wants to slip into a hot shower, pull you into his arms, and fall asleep. He wants nothing more than to grab the boys, but he worries that seeing him slightly bruised and cut will scare them. So he just heads to your shared room and slips in; noticing how you're curled around his pillow, he feels a deep pang in his heart.

He missed you the most during the night, wanting nothing more than to reach over and feel your body melt into his. It's been cold at night, and he no longer refuses to deal with that. Sighing, he pulls at his shirt, groaning quietly as his ribs ache from the cuts and bruises on them. Mud and blood in his hair, face, and clothes, burying a dead body was not easy. Especially when the body used to be one of your men. Turning on the shower, his muscles relax as he thinks about how good it will feel to have the warmth on his cold-bitten skin.

Stripping off the rest of the clothes, Max stretches, steps into the shower, and groans at the heat seeping deep into his skin. Closing his eyes, Max leans his head back and enjoys the silence of his own home. Max craved silence as he grew up with such anger and hatred it was never quiet. Now, he loved the silence here, but it was a different type of silence. The silence meant everyone was happy, loved, and at peace. Max loved the noise; it was no longer filled with anger and hatred. It was one filled with childlike innocence and happiness; he craved it while he was away.

Max opens his eyes and smiles, turning his head and seeing the outline of your figure. "Join me?" It was a soft ask that required you to lift his shirt over your head and drop it. Max craved to feel your skin against him, like air, and he couldn't breathe. "You're home," You whisper, sighing when Max pulls you close to each other's naked body. "I'm home," He whispers, resting his forehead on your shoulder blade. You loved having his body pressed against you, which made you feel safe, but it was also dizzy. Max was built and bigger than you, and it just made your brain go fuzzy around the edges.

Max knew what he was doing, pushing his body against you; you made it no secret that you loved he was bigger than you. "Max," You whisper, running your hands down his back as he presses himself against you, pressing kisses over your neck and shoulder. "Max," You whimper as his teeth scrape the weak spot over your neck that makes your legs feel weak. "Yes, Schat?" His voice husky and deep, pulling back his eyes dilated and dark. "I want another baby," You whisper, slowly spreading your legs, and Max groans.

Reaching down, you let your head thump back on the glass as his rough fingers ghost over your lips. "Yeah? Do you want another baby? Want me to fill you so deep?" His voice turns into a growl, fingers moving and pinching your clit before rubbing slow circles. You whimper, grabbing onto his shoulders, and nod your head fast. "Yes, fuck please, fuck me so deep, use me. Please, Max." You beg, the ache between your legs growing so that you could cry from him just burying himself deep inside you.

Max smirks, moving his hand up your back and into your hair, grabbing it and pulling your head back, and you hiss, the burn scratching something deep in you. "Spread your legs, my little siren." You giggle, having not heard that nickname in so long. You clumsily grab the bars in the shower and spread your legs, Max slowly getting to his knees and pressing kisses on your hip. "Sorry," You apologize, and Max arches an eyebrow. "Siren, I don't care." He chuckles at the hair. He could give a damn.

You gasp, closing your eyes when his tongue flattens and suddenly licks up and down with slow, long stripes. Body relaxing, you let your weight fall on his face, and he groans, feeling it. Large hands move up the back of your legs before slapping your ass. A surprised laugh escapes you, and Max smirks, blue eyes bright, as his lips wrap around your clit and suck before letting go and moving his tongue fast before slowing down. His hands move away from your ass and hold onto your hips and groan, feeling the way you're getting puffy.

He's missed this feeling, the way your pussy feels on his face. He could die like this happily. You whine at Max's pace, and he moves one of his hands, fingers moving down and slowly entering you before curling and moving in and out. You sigh, the feeling in you turning warm as you feel that slight tightness in the stomach grow more and more. Max, feeling your warm and cushy, pulls, pulls his fingers out and lays one last kiss. You open your eyes, vision hazy as you slip, and Max catches you holding you up.

"Turn around, siren." You nod and turn around, spreading your legs as you feel him stand right behind you. He groans, staring at your ass, slapping it, the sound bouncing off the shower walls. You groan, dropping your head at the heavy feeling of his hand slapping you. Max smirks as he jerks himself slowly. He moves and rubs himself between your lips, and your mouth waters, missing the weight of him in you. "Max, don't tease me." You beg, and he chuckles, leaning over your back.

His hand grabs your throat and arches you back. "Don't mouth off to me, siren, or else I'll choke you with my cock instead." Moaning at the idea, he chuckles and slowly slides in, your mouth dropping open as he stretches you open with a delicious feeling. Max bottoms out, groaning as he takes in the sight of your back arching and the reflection of the glass, your mouth open and eyes rolled back. "Ready?" You nod at his question as he pulls back and then forward.

The motion has you rocking forward, slamming your hands on the glass they drag down as his hips slam hard on your ass, fucking you hard and deep. "Fuck, feel so damn good." You whimper, trying to find something to hold onto. Reaching around, Max takes both your wrists in his large hand and pulls your arms back. The sting of everything itched something deep in you. "Right there, fuck Max," Max smirks and pulls your arms and moves his hips faster, watching your tits bounce; leaning back, he enjoys the view of him pulling out and being swallowed by your pussy.

Max pulls you, and you whimper at the loss. Spinning you around, he picks you up with ease, and you whine as he presses your back onto the cold shower window and you whine. Max wraps his arms under your legs and places your ankles on his shoulders as he slides into you again. Your fingers pull at his short blonde strands, groaning; he fucks deeper into you from this angle.

"Want a baby? Want me to fuck a baby into you? Fuck, you'd look gorgeous all swollen with my baby. Goddamn," Max groans, his legs burning, but he doesn't care to be driven by his need to fill you and make sure you know who's gotten you pregnant. "Yes, please, Max," You cry, tears swimming in your eyes. "Yeah, going to fuck you, full baby, beg for it." You whimper as you try to find the words, but your mind is blank, just being so fucked out of it. Max groans and reaches down, rubbing his thumb over your sensitive clit. "Max," Your voice is airy and squeaky as you feel everything in your body becoming hot and tight.

"Going to come around, my cock; such a good girl for me, my good girl." You whine as he angles his hips and hits your spot. As you close your eyes and open your mouth, no noise emerges as you surround him. Max still fucks you through it and groans before pulling out and then sliding deep inside you and coming, his muscles so damn tight they could snap as he continued to fuck you, making sure it was staying inside.

You whine as he pulls you and slowly sits you down. "Max," Your throat raw, but he moves and slides two fingers in you, making sure nothing drips out. You whine, sensitive, and he kisses your face gently. "Sorry, want to make sure nothing goes to waste." He whispers and pulls his fingers out, and sucks them into his mouth. "Let's finish showering." Nodding your head, too tired to keep your eyes open, he smiles and holds you close as he cleans you both.

Picking you up bridal style, he dries you off and dresses you. Kissing you gently, he lays you in bed. But he doesn't lay down just yet, pulling on some boxers and shorts; he doesn't like not having the boys here. "I'm getting the boys," you whine as an answer, breathing evening out as you fall back asleep. Max smiles and moves through the house, going to the twins' room. Stepping in, he smiles, seeing them both with their lion stuffies. Moving carefully, not wanting to step on stray toys, he scoops both boys up and smiles at their weights in his arms.

Casper whines but cuddles closer, and Fabby just lies like dead weight. Walking back to the bedroom, he lays them down gently and tucks them in before climbing in. Max smiles, pulls you three close, and sighs. Max never wanted to give this up.

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tongue-like-a-razor · 2 months

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Hotter Than Texas | Part I

(unofficially: Brother's Worst Enemy)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Alrighty y'all, this is for everyone who has so patiently waited for me to make this a thing XD Not sure if I could squeeze a whole series out of this one but we shall see. Maybe at least a part 2. Enjoy!

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Aka it's a road trip, strap in.

CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)

The mission is simple. Collect Seresin Junior from the train station near the main gate of the base and deliver said cargo to the Seresin homestead in Eastern Texas on his way to Atlanta, Georgia for a long overdue visit with his grandparents. It isn’t rocket science. It sure as hell doesn’t hold a candle to the canyon run he pulled off just the other month. And yet, Bradley’s drumming his fingers anxiously on the hood of his Bronco as he leans into its frame, waiting on the trolley from downtown San Diego.

While Jake and Bradley have recently made peace after their longstanding cold war, Bradley isn’t exactly thrilled to meet another one of his kind. Besides, he isn’t one for small talk, and the prospect of spending the next two days with a complete stranger is downright daunting. He prefers music to conversation and he’s hoping that his road trip companion won’t be offended when he turns up the radio and forgets there’s anybody else in the car.

When Hangman had asked for the favor, he assured Bradley that he was his last choice – which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Bradley appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. By the end of the term, there was nobody from their squadron left on base except Bradley, and he would be heading east anyway, might as well provide shuttle service while he’s at it.

As the trolley whistles into the station, Bradley pushes off his car and straightens his back, watching the tinted windows as they zip by, a blur at first and then gradually separating as the trolley comes to a stop.

Bradley leaves his car to walk around the fence, not quite sure how he’s going to be greeting a person he’s never before seen, but it’s not like he’s going to fashion a sign for the occasion. He sticks his hands into his pockets, the breeze picking up his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt like a parachute before it starts whipping around his torso in the wind tunnel on the platform.

He glances around at the commuters stepping off the trolley, trying to pick out the blondes that might resemble his colleague, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, just as you say, “Rooster, right?”

He blinks at you, slightly disoriented. You look nothing like Hangman, thank fuck, because Bradley can’t take his eyes off you and, as inappropriate as this reaction is, it would make it that much worse if you did. He gives you a sideways grin. “What gave me away?” he says.

“My brother told me to find the dorkiest guy at the station,” you respond, grinning at him.

Bradley chuckles. “So, you’re walking to Texas, then,” he says, stepping around you.

You laugh, struggling to redirect the wheels of your suitcase.

Bradley bends down to grab the handle. “I can take that,” he says, tucking away the retractable bar and lifting it off the ground by the strap.

“Thanks,” you say, cringing slightly as Bradley lifts the luggage as though you’re embarrassed by its weight.

But after the countless exercise drills over the years, Bradley hardly notices that it’s heavy. In fact, he could probably carry it over his head. He eyes you inconspicuously as you fall in step with him, wondering if perhaps that might impress you – not that he wants to impress you.

“Actually, he said I couldn’t miss you because you’d be a head taller than everyone else, and probably wearing a very bright shirt.”

Bradley looks over at you with a grin. “Hopefully I didn’t disappoint?”

You eye his shirt flapping in the breeze. “I found you, didn’t I?”

Bradley lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car and walks around to open your door for you.

You give him a suspicious look. “Thanks,” you say.

Bradley nods at you, offering a hand to help you in. Once you’re seated, he shuts the door behind you and exhales unsteadily the kind of sigh that often accompanies a guilty conscience. There’s no way he could possibly get entangled in a mess of this magnitude. And a colossal mess it would become if he were to develop any sort of soft spot for his recent enemy’s baby sister. Bradley, being a sensible, mature adult, understands this unequivocally. But, when he rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s seat next to you, the notion that he’s not allowed under any circumstances to find you attractive flies right out his rolled down window.

This is because you’re already tuning the radio like you own the place and because you smell like a goddess. Bradley has no clue whether it’s your hair or your perfume or your goddamn essence that’s permeated his upholstery in under ten seconds, but whatever it is, he certainly wouldn’t mind smelling it on his sheets in the morning.

Fuck. He’s fucking fucked.

“This alright?” you ask casually, as if you didn’t just hijack a stranger’s radio.

He cringes at the stereo; he’ll have to work on your taste in music. “Got your seatbelt on?” he asks as he pulls out.

You turn around in your seat and pull on the seatbelt.

Bradley promptly hits the breaks and you lurch forward slightly, the seatbelt in your hand getting stuck on its way out. He looks over at you with an air of seriousness despite the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The seatbelt should be the first thing you do when you enter a vehicle.” Not fiddle with the radio, he adds silently.

You raise your eyebrows at him in amusement. “Okay, dad.”

Bradley nearly shudders at your response. He’s probably a good ten years older than you, so, really, while dad might be stretching it, you’re not too far off. “Keep up that attitude and you’ll be listening to Metallica the whole way home.”

You smirk at him. “I like Metallica, so joke’s on you, bud.”

Bradley starts driving again. “If you like Metallica, then why are we listening to this trash?”

Your jaw drops and you reach for the volume dial to turn up the song. “How dare you?”

Bradley rolls his eyes. Something tells him he’s in for a wild ride.

…

About two hours later, Bradley pulls into a small gas station just past the border into Arizona.

“Want something to eat?” he asks, leaning across the console to pop his glove compartment and pull out his wallet. “Or drink?”

You purse your lips. “I could go for a coffee.”

“How do you like it?” he asks.

“With a pinch of salt.”

Bradley gapes at you. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

You snort. “I’m not joking. You should try it! Cuts the bitterness in half, my friend.”

Bradley cringes. “The bitterness is why I drink it.”

You shake your head and declare wisely, “You’ll see.”

“That you’re a nutcase?” Bradley mutters under his breath as he exits the car. He jogs over to the convenience store, determinedly blocking out the seductive quality of your persuasive tone. You could probably convince him to drink a pint of his own urine if you set your mind to it.

Bradley drums impatiently on the counter, waiting for the clerk to finish restocking one of the shelves with chips. While he’s waiting, he glances out to check on you as if you’re a child under his charge. You’ve stepped out of the Bronco to stretch your legs and Bradley doesn’t like the way the two guys in the convertible in behind are eyeing you.

Bradley cranes his neck to check on the clerk’s progress and lets out a stifled sigh. When he looks back outside, he sees that one of the men has approached you and, well, Bradley isn’t about to wait to see what happens next. He drops a bill on the counter and calls out, “Keep the change,” to the clerk before practically slamming his way through the doors with the coffees in his hands.

Why it bothers him that some random dude might want your number is not of consequence. What matters is that Bradley gets rid of this asswipe before you start enjoying his company.

He strides confidently past the man chatting you up and stops right in between you and him, handing you a coffee.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he cautions moodily, not entirely sure how to go about handling a situation in which, objectively speaking, he has no real authority.

You meet his gaze with a small smile. “You don’t say,” you respond with all the sultriness of a blazing, desert sun.

Bradley’s gaze remains unwaveringly on you as he unhooks a pair of Ray-Bans from the neck of his muscle shirt and slides them over his eyes. “Ready to go?” he asks in a level tone, hoping he can avoid what is bound to be an unpleasant interaction with the man still standing behind him.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man speaks up. “Didn’t realize you were with someone, honey.”

Bradley keeps his eyes on yours for several moments longer, trying his best not to show the irritation he feels at the way this rando just called you ‘honey’. Reluctantly, he turns to face him, wondering what in the world he could say that wouldn’t make him sound jealous as fuck.

But before Bradley could speak, you slide casually into his side, leaning on him like it’s the most natural thing. “That’s just fine,” you say to the man. “No harm, no foul.”

Bradley looks down at your head as it nestles into his shoulder and then lifts his arm to let you move in closer. Trying to play it cool, he skims the tips of his fingers across your lower back, which is warm and feels like the perfect place to rest his hand.

Convertible guy promptly departs, and Bradley is left standing in an embrace with the one person on the entire planet for whom he should never catch feelings, at a derelict gas station on the outskirts of arid Yuma, Arizona, and the heat is really starting to get to him. Slowly, you start to peel yourself away and Bradley, sensing your withdrawal, drops his hand and recoils from you like you’ve burnt him.

Did it feel nice pretending you were his girl? Sure did. Is he going to erase it from his memory and never let himself so much as shake your hand again? Absolutely.

Read Part 2

Tag List

I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments probably tomorrow!

@joaquinwhorres

@katiemcrae

@sehnsuchts-trunken

@toomuchfluffs

@wintercap89

@lonelywitchv2

@callsign-jupiter

@rosiahills22

@olliepig

@coffeeaddictedmay

@boringusername3

@ratedtvpg

@mak-32

@annedub

@jules-1999

@black--lightning

@j-velvet

@xoxabs88xox

@cyanide-cryptid

@callsignvenus

@artemissunn

@gcldtom

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@callsign-sunshine

@shanimallina87

@birdy-bat-writes

@wkndwlff

@chaosmxlcolm

@iminlovewithenchilidadas

@daniibzz

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@valhallavalkyrie9

@ijustwantedplums

@hal3ynicol3

@avengersfan25

@hallecarey1

@nik2blog

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@lilianashomaresparza

@lovingperfectionsblog

@bblpbb

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@SometimesAnAlice

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@adaydreamaway08

@mattyskies

@desert-fern

@catsandbooksandstuff

@Topguncultleader

@avengers-fixation

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miserycanary · 2 months

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MY HELL FOR YOUR LOVE ᡣ𐭩

♡⃛ ‘A Fixed Heart in Your Hand' alternative ending

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: alternative ending because I feel bad for hurting y'all

tags: hurt/COMFORT, fluff

"Sir? Sir!”

Ghost flinches as he realizes he’s been spacing out, the florist now looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Are you going to buy something or not?” she snaps, motioning at the display of bouquets. “Uh, yeah. Give me something with hyacinth and baby breaths,” he mutters, handing her a 100 bill. “Hyacinth? Never thought I’d see a day where a man knows a different flower aside from roses, tulips, and sunflowers,” the vendor chuckles, arranging the flowers neatly and covering them with a brown printed paper tied with a twine. “Ah,… if I know something, it’s about her.” The florist smiles, handing Ghost the bouquet and his change while saying, “Well, I can see that you love her dearly.” With a soft smirk, he replies, “That I do.”

You’ve always had a love for flowers. Going as far as to even beg him to make you a flower bed. Ghost didn’t like doing physical labor with him already getting beat from training at the base, yet when you flashed him that smile (and gave a toe-curling blowjob), how could he refuse? Since then, flowers as gifts have been rare between you two. Instances where he’d give you one are when you’re on a terrible period day or during milestones (the flowers coming from the patch he secretly planted months before).

It’s been two days since you’ve left the apartment, staying at your friend’s house, but Ghost insists on having you keep some of your stuff in the unit because, “well, you technically have ownership of the place since we shared the payment for this month.” It was a poor excuse, really, but it worked. Ghost knows you well enough to know that you haven’t broken up with him despite what you said. Leaving and staying somewhere else is something you do when you’re hurt and need space, and he knows that deep inside, you’re waiting for him.

Don’t get him wrong. He doesn’t think you’re “easy to get” and he did really regret everything. The last 2 nights without you knocked some sense into him. The night felt colder, somber, and… lonely. Something he thought he would never complain about. I mean, this man has been through worse situations and he prefers solitude, but not if it’s solitude without you. You’re the one thing he can’t live without.

He has sent you multiple voicemails, messages, and even money as an apology. He’d always drop off by your friend’s place with some poorly attempted home-cooked meal of your favorite dishes. Sometimes he’d be able to steal a glance at you when he saw you coming up to the unit right before he arrived, sending flutters to his heart and butterflies in his stomach like a high school boy with a crush.

Now he stands by the door, hoping he’d leave the place with you in his arms, and him in your heart again. Three knocks (you always say less or more than that are for psychopaths) and a call of your name. Simon couldn’t help but chuckle when he heard your familiar cry, probably from rushing and stumbling. The wooden door cracked open, and the adrenaline that rushed through his nerves just from seeing you again could knock the man dead. He couldn’t even say anything except literally melt and give you the warmest smile. “Hi,” he softly greets, pulling the bouquet out of the paperbag and handing it to you with another gift. It was a charm... a tree bark with your initials engraved. You chuckle, pulling out the letter sticking out.

One thing you learned about your Simon was that he’s not entirely good at conveying his feelings. I mean, that’s literally the reason for this fight. Yet he got out of his comfort zone, wrote you a fucking letter.

You look at him, tears in your eyes before jumping into his arms.

“I fucking missed you, pretty girl,” he mutters, holding you up by your ass and pressing a deep kiss on your lips. God, you taste like heaven; you taste like salvation. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pushes you closer, afraid you’ll slip from his fingers again.

From that day on, Simon learned one thing. That he would rather go through the depths of hell (talk about his feelings) than go through a day without your love.

| The letter:

‘To my darling flower, I’m sorry for even hurting you. I’m sorry I was a shit-ass about how I processed my emotions and got you involved. You’ve always told me that you’re there for me but I didn’t want to burden you. I always want you to be happy but my actions just did the opposite. I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything that day. That I didn’t even ask you to stay. I’m sorry for being a coward. I’m sorry that I let you go.

With this letter, I ask for your forgiveness and for you to have me back. I will be better because I cannot afford to lose you for you have my heart and soul. You are my whole life. You are the thing that makes surviving each day worth it.’

꒰ა ☆ ໒: Now you guys know why Ghost calls Y/N ‘flower’. This the comfort alternative ending because it was also requested. 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist: @softestqueeen

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

#simon ghost x you #simon riley fluff #simon riley cod #simon riley call of duty #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #ghost riley #simon riley #canary’s symphonies #canary’s melodies

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 months

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V ║Raw Edge

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part IV: Notch | Behind the Seams: Part V | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E, a proper E!

Summary: One lazy afternoon, Joel tests your patience.

Warnings: Sexual tension, some language, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, flirting, fingering, explicit grinding, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!domestic!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 2k

Notes: It's been a long and winding road y'all, but I'm finally back with an update on the main series. It is a short one, more of an interlude, but it will get us where we need to go for the next chapter. Thank you for your patience, I don't take you guys' understanding and love for granted for even a second. Releasing this during the Seams sleepover, more drabbles coming your way for the remaining month of March!

Raw edge - the raw, raveling, and unfinished, cut edge of the fabric.

It’s fitting that Joel is a patient man. He’s built for it, after all.

Those broad shoulders, the sturdy thighs, his sure hands - he’s steadfast as the mountains that loom over Jackson.

As the sun shifts over the ridges and valleys of the sierra through the seasons, bringing shadows into light, so does Jackson on Joel, and you learn that he’s many kinds of patient.

On lookout duty, even in the depths of winter, he becomes one with the stillness of the night, patiently watching over the safety of the town in the loneliest hours.

When townsfolk stop him on the high street for neighbourly chit chat, he obliges with polite patience, never rushing, but careful not to encourage conversation that is longer than necessary.

With Ellie, when she prattles on with a long-winded story from school, he listens with amused patience, letting her run her half-full mouth over dinner with half-hearted admonishment.

And with you - he is agonisingly patient with you, and yet, never in a way that leaves any doubt of his want for you.

You cannot be more grateful.

And in turn, you’re patient with him. As the green of summer softens with the tail end of the season, you pick up bits and pieces. You hear whispers of names. Tess. Bill. You glimpse ghosts of his past. Sarah. Frank.

You don’t expect him to, but you have the audacity to hope, that one day, if he finds it in him to let you in, you have shoulders to spare.

When the heat fades and the brisk autumnal chill starts to linger in the morning mist, you start to find that you like it when he’s not patient.

Not necessarily for the lack of patience thereof, but the fact that it’s worn thin by something else.

The way heat bleeds into his eyes when Lucy holds you up after your shift ends, fingers twitching, as if the caveman in him wants to grab you and drag you home, where you have planned on dinner - and more.

When you’re two bodies tangled in your sheets, breath short as he kisses his way down your neck and nips the underside of your breasts, bra cups pushed up only halfway because you’re still too shy to take it off completely. You feel him shudder, nails digging into your skin, nostrils flaring like he’s holding back from ripping the scant fabric off of you.

And late one evening, when you ask him for it, in heated whispers and your lower lip caught in your teeth, he oh so patiently works his fingers inside your wet heat -

One, then two;

Slow, then fast;

Tender, then frantic -

Until he feels you clench tight around the crook of his fingers for the first time, watch you arch clean off the bed, he bares his teeth and lets out a primal growl at the cry of his name on your swollen lips.

You find the thrill in getting under Joel Miller’s skin.

As the fall deepens, and trees start to shed in golden surrender, you’re caught off guard when he turns the table on you.

You don’t see it coming, your desperation, that lazy afternoon. It’s just another Saturday when Ellie is on her shift at the Outfitter with Lucy, and Joel is spending those free hours with you.

You’re not sure what got him into the mood, but the man is relentlessly teasing that afternoon, almost bratty in the way he toys with you. His hands go everywhere while you’re cooking, squeezing the swell of your ass then going north to cup your breasts, and stopping off everywhere in between.

Tips of your ears burning, you smack the back of his hands - so big and mapped with veins - just so you can get drain the pasta. Joel chuckles and kisses the corner of your mouth. ‘I like it when you’re bossy, sweetheart.’

He insists on eating on the sofa, with you between his legs, and you can feel him already hard and straining through his jeans. Neither of you really make a real go at the rapidly cooling marinara, and the plates are quickly pushed to the side as them meal degenerates into a full-blown make out session.

Not yet ready to let him strip you bare or for him to disrobe him completely, clothes hang half unbuttoned and unzipped on you both. The part of your brain that still has enough blood to reason likes it though - the demure flashes of skin under creased fabric, blindly touching and feeling where you can’t see.

Your jeans are pushed halfway down your thighs, bra pushed down under your breasts, the elastic straps digging into your shoulders. His shirt is open down to the second last button, bare chest rubbing against your nipples, the contact making you whine. His belt hangs open and his jeans are unzipped, but before you can reach down, his fingers slide inside your panties, twisted and sticky, teasing your wet folds.

‘Joel,’ you whimper as he pushes two thick fingers inside you to the knuckle, your pussy slickly opening around him.

‘Does that feel good, sweetheart?’ he asks, mouthing at your collarbone.

‘More,’ you gasp.

‘I got two in you already -’

Your voice cracks in a sob, your nails digging into his back. ‘Joel, I want more. Please.’

He glances at the clock ticking away on the wall and hesitates. The rational part of him knows that he has to leave in less than twenty minutes to pick up Ellie. But feeling you leak onto his fingers, pushing your hips against him to get his fingers even deeper, his cock twitches painfully hard in his pants.

He breathes through his nose to steady himself. ‘Sweetheart, we don’t have time -‘

‘Joel!’ you whine, almost petulantly.

He stares down at you, eyes wide at your desperation. He’s never seen you like this before, and fuck, he wants to give it to you. Wants to give you what you want, what he wants. What he’s wanted for long fucking months, woken up hard and throbbing dreaming about. But he steels himself - no, not when he’s on the clock, he won’t rush it. He will give you what you deserve, and not an ounce less.

So he kisses you, long and deep, and bargains with you. ‘Listen, sweetheart, we can’t right now - but if you want to, we can try something new.’

‘Ok,’ you reply without hesitation.

A sharp breath catches in your throat when he eases his fingers out of you, and he brings them up to his mouth to lick them clean, his brow furrowing at your taste, thick on his tongue. Then you watch, transfixed, as he pushes his unzipped jeans down with his boxers, kicking them off his ankles - and his hard cock springs free of its confines.

It’s taken you many months to drum up the bravery to map his body with your touch, and you’ve mostly done so in the safety of darkness, your shyness holding you back. To see all of him, jutting hard and thick in the stark afternoon light, you don’t even hear yourself whimper at the sight.

Joel holds your gaze as he slowly wraps his fingers around the swollen length and strokes himself, lips parted, watching you watch him. ‘You trust me, sweetheart?’

‘Yes.’

‘Gonna make you feel good, ok?’

His words make you squirm beneath him. ‘Ok.’

Grabbing the base of his cock, Joel shifts, looming over you and pushing your thighs apart so they’re bent at the knees to accommodate him. Then with a delicate finger, he traces under the seat of your panties and pulls them to one side, baring your spread pussy to his eyes.

Your jaw goes slack the same time Joel bites out a filthy fuck. You know this is the first time he’s laying eyes on you there - you’ve been demure about that, preferring to be nose-to-nose with him while he buries his fingers inside you. But now, watching his eyes go black, nostrils flaring, an inexplicable high goes to your head, and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

His eyes fly to yours, and your lips part. Did he see that?

Before you can find out, Joel moves, and you hold your breath when he bows his head right where your legs are splayed open. Distracted by the beautiful chisel of his nose from this angle, you would’ve jumped right off the couch if not for his hands holding you in place when he dribbles spit onto your clit.

You cry out wordlessly, not understanding the visceral reaction of your body to the unexpectedly lewd act.

‘You’re plenty wet for me sweetheart, but this will feel even better,’ he says, spitting again, lower this time, and you tremble at the unfamiliar sensation of the wetness trailing down your folds.

Tracing a thumb over you, Joel makes a low noise of satisfaction in his chest when it glides over your lips, frictionless. Taking a hold of the base of his cock, he positions the underside of his length in the seam of your folds - and thrusts.

‘Joel!’ you whimper as the full length of him glides over the lips of your spit-wet pussy, from entrance to clit. He braces himself over you, and you hang onto his impossibly broad shoulders as he carefully rolls his hips, again and again. Rubbing along you just so, making sure you feel all of him despite not being inside you - that will have to wait.

You can feel your panties getting wetter, sticking to your skin, and Joel jolts a gasp from you when he roughly tugs the fabric hard to the side, baring more of you to his drunken gaze, witnessing the mess he’s making of you.

‘Listen t’ you,’ he slurs through gritted teeth, the lewd, wet slide of skin filling his ears. ‘Gonna sound even sweeter when I make you mine, sweetheart.’

With a whine, you arch off the couch, as if chasing the possessiveness in his words. Joel finds a rhythm that has the swollen head of his cock grinding against your clit with every thrust, and above you, he smears open-mouthed kisses over the secret spots he’s patiently unearthed by trial and error, until you’re shaking all over. It’s just what you needed, what you wanted - the elusive more that you didn’t know how to articulate. More than his fingers, but not yet ready to take everything that he can give you.

‘You’re close,’ Joel says, a quiet confidence to his verdict that coaxes a whine out of you. Holding a thumb over his cock, it presses even harder against your clit. His hips quicken in pace, and you know he’s chasing his own release as much as yours.

‘It’s ok sweetheart, you can let go, let me feel you cum for me, let me feel that pretty pussy -’

And then you’re gone. Any illusion of control over your body is just that, an illusion, when the bubble bursts. White hot pleasure burns through your bloodstream, tendrils of heat blooming and swelling from deep inside you, spilling out your fingertips twisted tightly into his graying curls.

Over the rush of blood in your ears, you hear Joel stutter fuck, fuck, fuck! before warm cum gushes over you, pooling in your belly button, spilling down your pussy and streaking your thighs.

Limbs heavy and eyelids drooping, it’s hard to care when the cum stains your panties or the couch below. Not when Joel wraps his arms around you, lips brushing the nape of your neck softly as he brackets you from behind.

Clinging onto the last vestiges of consciousness, you murmur, ‘You have to pick up Ellie soon.’

He grunts. ‘The little punk can wait.’

You smile, struggling to feel apologetic that the teenager might be waiting a while as Joel’s breathing slows, whistling softly by your ear.

In the quiet aftermath, his words echo in your head.

When I make you mine.

Little does he know, he doesn’t have to - you’re already his.

Notes: Time has really flown by since the last main series update. I've gone through so many ups and downs since, and I really need to thank you guys for giving me the time to figure things out in terms of my writing and how this story will go!

As I mentioned in Behind the Seams: Part V, I have 2 more full length chapters planned for the main series. I don't know if there will be any more after that, but at the very least, I hope that I will be adding to the Seams universe through drabbles and oneshots. I wouldn't write off the possibility of more chapters to add to the main series if I find the inspiration.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter ❤️

#fuckyeahseams #seams v #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine

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serpentandlily · 22 days

Text

Lost in a Labyrinth - Azriel x Reader

Lost in a Labyrinth Part II - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine.

Warnings: smut (minors dni), reader is a prostitute, uncomfortable situations (nothing extreme)

a/n: thanks for all the love on the first part! Hope y'all like this one just as much!

➻❥ Part I

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part II

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“You look well rested.”

Cashmere winked at you from her seat in front of her vanity. She was brushing out her long hair, getting ready for the evening. You let out a sigh and plopped down at your own vanity in the dressing room.

“I am,” you replied. “Someone bought out all my nights this month but no one’s shown up. It’s…strange, don’t you think?”

Cashmere shrugged, going back to looking at her reflection in the mirror. “Seems to me like you’ve got yourself a secret admirer.”

You began putting on your makeup for the night, not that you’d have any clients. But you were still expected to be in the Courtyard for a bit. “Secret, maybe, but they're definitely not an admirer. If they were, why wouldn’t they come get what they paid for?”

“Some of these Lords just throw their money around to impress us. I wouldn’t think too much about it, Serenity,” Cashmere said. You fought the urge to cringe at the fake name. “Consider it a vacation of sorts.”

“Until Lydia finds out,” you snorted. “Then she’ll probably double book me.”

“Just rub some kohl under your eyes,” Cashmere suggested. “Make it look like you’re still having sleepless nights like the rest of us.”

“Not a bad idea.”

More girls walked in and you fell silent. Telling Cashmere about your current situation was one thing. You trusted her as a friend. But some of the other girls would likely pass on the information to Lydia and that’s the last thing you wanted.

You finished your makeup before shrugging on a new lingerie set with a dark pink silk robe over it. You followed the girls to the Courtyard, ready to perform your nightly duties so you could retire back to your room for another peaceful night alone thanks to your mysterious donor.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Your vacation was short lived because the next day, Keir showed up and requested sixteen specific girls, your name included, for a party that was being hosted in Hewn City with some elite nobles. Even the High Lord and Lady would be present apparently. Not that you’d be allowed to approach them. Every time you worked these kinds of events, all the girls were given strict instructions on how to dress, what to wear, and what Lords to entertain.

A dress was waiting for you in the dressing room. It was a long black dress that fell to the floor with two slits on the side to show off your legs. It was backless with a few thin straps that criss crossed on your lower back. Sitting beneath it was a pair of silver heels and on your vanity sat a matching silver jewelry set.

You had to forgo your bra for the dress, likely the reason it was chosen. You did a sultry smokey eye and dark red lip for your makeup before you pinned your hair into a pretty updo to show off the back of the dress.

By the time you were finished getting ready, the other girls were too. It wasn’t long before you were being led into the throne room. During parties like this, only the elite and those invited had access to this room in the castle.

The ebony floors were polished, the carved pillars spanning so high you could hardly see where they connected to the ceiling. Various nobles mingled together, sitting on settees, smoking cigars, with glasses of wine and whiskey in their hands.

The High Lord and Lady sat on their thrones on top of the dais at the front of the expansive room, dressed finely in all black with their crowns on their heads. Standing next to the High Lord was the General, the big, brutish Illyrian. Next to the High Lady stood the Shadowsinger, his eyes scanning the room. You’d seen the Shadowsinger plenty of times during the occasional trips your High Lord and Lady made to Hewn City. But that night he had walked through your doors in The Labyrinth, you had been taken aback by how beautiful he was.

Memories of your night with him flashed through your head and you tried to fight off the blush and heat that started coursing through your body. Azriel had been a generous lover. Far more generous than your other clients, that’s for sure. He had actually cared about your pleasure. Not to mention he was the hottest male to walk through your doors.

It was a pity that he had disappeared so quickly and never returned.

“Alright, girls, you know what to do,” Lydia hissed at the group of you. “Do not embarrass me. Anyone who steps out of line will receive a new mark.”

That was the last thing you wanted to do. You looked down at your hand, at the small tattoo on the inside of your ring finger. You only had two more marks left. Two marks and then freedom would be yours.

You started mingling with the various Lords, pretending to eagerly listen to them brag about the most mundane things like their latest hunt or new investments. Servants meandered around, filling wine and whiskey glasses.

When you were younger, you had accepted them like most of the other girls. Having a little alcohol in you always made the night easier. But you were going to steer clear of it—not wanting to jeopardize your progress with Lord Keir and Lydia.

You started making your way towards the front of the room. You had to steer clear of the High Lord and Lady but the wealthier and more important males always sat near the front. And if you caught the attention of someone Keir wanted gone, that would be just an extra bonus to the money you’d be making off them.

You were used to eyes trailing after you everywhere you went, but something else was tugging on your senses, making you feel not like you were being ogled at like always but watched.

Your eyes darted around until they landed on a familiar pair of hazel ones. Azriel hadn’t moved a single step from his post but his eyes were on you. Your steps faltered for a second, taken aback by how intense his stare was.

Was he scared that you would out him? Address him in front of his High Lord? He should know that you couldn’t. The same way he couldn’t mention anything that took place in the Labyrinth.

Your name being called shook you from your thoughts.

Your attention was pulled to a handsome male with long, white hair that matched his equally pale skin. Lord Thanatos’s golden eyes were running up and down your body as he sat sprawled in an armchair like it was the High Lord’s throne. He beckoned you to him with two fingers.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you had no other choice but to go to him. He was your least favorite client but he had a weird obsession with you. It was rare for him to choose any other girl in The Labyrinth besides you. You gave him a seductive smile, slipping into your role for the night. “How may I help you, my Lord?”

You let out a small gasp as he latched onto your wrist and pulled you onto his lap. The Lords around him all snickered. He brushed your hair to one side before whispering in your ear, “You’re going to be helping me a lot tonight, sweetheart.”

Your insides shriveled up. Lord Thanatos was your least favorite client because of how rough he was with you. But he paid a lot of money so Lydia and the guards often looked the other way, only sending a healer into your room once he left.

“I’m looking forward to it, my Lord,” you purred, resting a hand on his chest. You weren’t, of course. Not even because of the pain he’d inflict on you but more so because Lord Thanatos was Keir’s secondhand man and closest confidant. Which meant those two lines tattooed on your finger would still be there when you woke up tomorrow morning.

Lord Thanatos went back to chatting with the various nobles seated on the couches and settees around him. If it wasn’t for his wandering hands on your body, you would’ve thought he was ignoring you. His hardening cock that was pressing into your backside had you shifting as much as you could to his thigh. You glanced around the room only to find Azriel’s eyes still on you. His fists were clenched, his face frozen with a hint of anger. Anger and something else that seemed suspiciously like longing.

You shifted again in Lord Thanatos’s lap for an entirely different reason now.

Cashmere happened to be walking by when Lord Thanatos grabbed onto her wrist and yanked her down to sit on his other thigh, forcing the two of you to share the small space.

She giggled. “Two of us? Don’t tell me you’re getting greedy, my Lord.”

You exchanged a small look with her. It didn’t happen often but sometimes clients wanted to take two girls at once. You preferred when you were chosen along with Cashmere, because you two were close friends which made it less awkward.

“I think Serenity wants someone to play with,” he smirked, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Anything for you, my Lord,” you smiled. “You know how much I love to please you.”

He leaned back in his chair and tossed his arms behind his head like he commanded the room. “Go on then. Kiss.”

You glanced at Cashmere who gave you a dip of the head so you reached forward and hooked some of her ginger hair behind her pointed ear before kissing her lightly. She tasted like cherry wine. You pulled back after a second and for some reason, your eyes caught Azriel’s. He was closer now, leaning on a pillar, wreathed in shadows—watching. He twirled his dagger in his hand with ease.

“Oh come on, Serenity. Don’t play coy,” Thanatos laughed. “I know that mouth can do better than that.”

Cashmere grabbed your face lightly, her eyes shining with a look that urged you on. You kissed her properly this time, caressing her face. This time the two of you gave the Lord what he wanted. But you could feel Azriel’s overwhelming stare still on you.

It wasn’t until your lips were swollen and you were panting that you finally let up. You could feel your lipstick smeared all over and wiped it with your hand.

“Oh, she’s made such a mess of me, my Lord,” you pouted. “Will you excuse me so I can fix myself up?”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he said, pulling Cashmere closer to him. “But don’t keep us waiting.”

“Of course,” you said with a nod, rising from his lap.

When you glanced at the pillar Azriel had been leaning on, he was still staring. It was a bit unnerving. You let out a shaky breath and quickly hurried out of the throne room and into one of the bathing chambers down the corridor. You rested your hands on the edge of the sink, staring down at the basin. You just needed a breather. Just a second to collect yourself.

Not a moment later, you felt a prickling sensation on your skin and the hairs on the back of your neck rose. Your head shot up and you left out a gasp as your eyes met a pair of hazel ones in your reflection.

Azriel stood behind you, his shadows swarming him.

You whirled around, backing into the sink.

“What are you doing here!”

Azriel took a step forward, out of the darkness.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he stated in a low voice that had goosebumps rising on your skin.

You crossed your arms, staring up at him entirely confused both by his appearance in the bathroom of all places and his remark. “Shouldn’t be where? In the bathroom?”

“No,” he growled, stepping closer. “You shouldn’t be here, at this party.”

“What do you mean? You know what I am. We were hired—” You cut yourself off as you had a realization. “It was you, wasn’t it? The one who booked up all my nights?”

Azriel said nothing, gave no reaction other than his large wings twitching. You swallowed thickly and turned back around, away from his daunting stare, finding it easier to stare at him through the reflection on the mirror. You summoned your small clutch with some magic before pulling out your tube of lipstick.

“Look, Azriel,” you began, starting to apply your lipstick. “You’re not the first male to feel ashamed after sleeping with me. If you’re doing this to absolve yourself from whatever guilt you have, consider it forgiven.”

Azriel stepped closer, his face darkening. “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood my actions. I do not feel ashamed because I slept with you, angel. I’m ashamed that I made you sleep with me.”

You shoved your lipstick back in your purse, turning around to face him. “You didn’t make me do anything. I knew what this job entailed when I signed up for it, okay?”

“But is it…is it what you want?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I can’t say it’s been a dream of mine. But it's a hell of a lot better than being sold off to some male and having all my freedoms taken away.”

Azriel ran a hand through his dark hair, tousling it. “Those shouldn’t be your only two choices.”

“Well, take that up with our High Lord, Azriel, I don’t know what to tell you,” you sighed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my client is waiting—”

You went to brush past Azriel to the door but he grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Don’t,” he breathed, “Don’t go. I know you don’t want to be with him. I could see it in your eyes.”

“I don’t have a choice, Azriel,” you snapped, trying to pull your wrist free. “So let me go.”

“Sounds like you’ve already had all your freedoms taken away,” he bit back, his grip unrelenting.

“You know nothing,” you argued. “If this is the one thing I have to sacrifice to keep all my other ones, then so be it. Besides, I’m almost—”

You cut yourself off, cursing in your head at your slip-up. No one could know about the deals the girls at The Labyrinth had with Keir. If word got out because of you…

“Almost what? What were you going to say?”

Azriel’s eyes were pleading with you, like he was hanging off every word that came out of your mouth. You let out a shaky breath and shook your head. “Nothing. Nothing, forget it. Now, please let me go. You’re going to get me in trouble with Lydia.”

You tried to leave again but Azriel pulled you back. “I can’t stand to see you look so miserable with him. Please, let me help you. I paid for you tonight; I’ll go tell Lydia that I’m taking you back to the—”

“She won’t care. She’s just going to give you your money back,” you cut in. “Lord Thanatos pays a lot of money to have me. More than whatever you gave her.”

“Then I’ll pay twice as much as him,” Azriel stressed. “Or whatever I have to in order to make sure he doesn’t end up in your bed tonight.”

“I take my orders from Lydia. What she says goes.”

“Fine, give me five minutes,” Azriel said with heavy resolve. “Just avoid him for now and I’ll sort it out.”

You looked at him closely. “Why do you care?”

“Don’t…don’t ask me that,” Azriel murmured before he disappeared in a whirl of shadows, leaving you stunned and confused.

You left the bathroom finally, making your way back to the throne room. Your mind was screaming at you to go back to Lord Thanatos before you got in major trouble, but something else in you wanted to listen to Azriel. You had no idea why. You grabbed a champagne flute off a tray from a server and made yourself look busy near a pillar that concealed you from Lord Thanatos’s view.

Five minutes passed and you were beginning to lose faith in Azriel, resigning yourself to the night with Thanatos when he stepped out of the shadows behind you. You let out a gasp of fright, spilling your full glass of champagne. Azriel grabbed the empty glass from your hand and set it on a table before taking your hand in his and guiding you away from the pillar.

“I sorted it out,” he whispered under his breath to you. “But Lydia seemed…suspicious of my interest in you.”

“What do you mean?” You hissed back.

“She’s wary of you being a spy for the High Lord,” Azriel answered, quickly.

You held back a laugh at that. “Then I guess we’ll have to make her think you’re interested in me for…other reasons.”

Azriel stopped and pulled you close to him, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Don’t get me wrong, angel. I am interested in you for all those other reasons, too.”

A chill skittered down your spine and you looked up at him with a coy smile. “Good, that’ll make this easier than.”

“Make what easier?”

“The show we’re going to put on for her,” you whispered.

Azriel’s cheeks turned a bit pink and you just knew you were going to have fun with him.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Azriel found an armchair next to some empty couches in clearsight of Lydia and sat down, spreading his legs apart in invitation and patting his thigh. His face was unreadable as you sat in his lap, tossing an arm around his neck and throwing your legs over his thigh, leaving them to dangle. He placed an arm around your waist, his hand lying flat on your stomach, and pulled you closer to him.

Azriel leaned in, whispering, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You won’t,” you replied, honestly.

His eyes searched yours for a second before he nodded. You placed a hand on his chest, running your fingers over his leathers. “Aren’t these a little constricting?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly. “I’m used to them.”

You hummed, your eyes darting towards Lydia to see her watching the two of you. “Well, I much prefer you out of them, shadowsinger.”

Your words had their desired effect. Azriel’s chest rumbled with a quiet growl, his hand caressing your waist. You giggled, pressing a few kisses to his jaw. His scent of cedar and night-chilled mist seemed to envelope you. He gripped your dress in his fist, his entire body tense.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he whispered, lowly. “Anything.”

“What do you want to know?”

Azriel nudged his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. His breath ghosted over your skin, causing goosebumps to spread. “Something real.”

You were never very forthcoming with your clients, always keeping your personal details secret and making up stories and lies to feed their curiosity. But something made you not want to lie to Azriel.

“My name is Y/n,” you started, shifting closer to him so no one else could overhear anything said. His hand that was on your waist slipped to the exposed skin on your back, his fingers lazily trailing up and down. “I was born to a low-ranking noble and his bitch of a wife, my mother. I was going to be sold off like cattle to some Lord who had already gone through three wives—you can guess what happened to them—but my friend, the one you saw me with earlier, helped me escape.”

Azriel’s grip on you tightened, pulling you flush against his hard chest. You melted into the heat of his body, the thin dress you had on did nothing to keep you warm. The hand that was on your back slipped to your thigh, parting your skirt so he could touch your smooth skin. Your heart jumped in your chest.

“Tell me their names,” Azriel growled into your ear. “Tell me their names and consider them gone.”

You laughed, darkly, twisting your arm around his neck to stroke the hairs at his nape. “No need for that. They’ve been…taken care of.”

Azriel’s other hand drifted up to your throat, grasping it lightly and tilting your head back so he could pepper his own kisses along your jaw and neck. Your breath hitched and you found yourself grinding down on him, gasping as you felt his hardening cock. Suddenly, none of this was pretend. Had it even been pretend in the first place? No…no, it hadn’t. You had been burning and burning for him since the night he had stepped into your room.

“I’m sorry—”

You turned to look at him and kissed him firmly before he could finish his sentence. He groaned as your lips met his and you pulled away entirely too soon, lingering only centimeters away.

“I’m not,” you purred.

Whatever resolve Azriel seemed to have, whatever dignity of yours he was trying to preserve, all of it was forgotten in the moment. He lurched forward and kissed you again, his hand on your throat angling your head to his liking—the rings on his fingers were cold against your heated skin. You moaned at the feeling of his soft lips, at the taste of him.

His tongue swiped your bottom lip and you gave into the subtle request, parting your lips for him and deepening the kiss. The hand that had been rubbing circles on your thigh slipped dangerously close to the place between your legs that seemed to be begging for him. You’d never been so turned on in your life. The thrill of knowing eyes were on you and the feeling of Azriel consuming you caused your brain to numb all thoughts.

His hand on your throat slipped down your side, his knuckles running along the side of your breast. You arched into his touch with a mewl and he answered with a small huff, his wings twitching. Meanwhile his tongue was still exploring every inch of your mouth, claiming you in a way that had you throbbing in his lap.

Azriel pulled away, leaving you panting for air as he began to trail kisses down your jaw and neck again. His wandering hand landed flat against your stomach, pushing you farther into him until you were flush against his body, your legs falling open to either side of his thigh. Your half-opened eyes darted around the room.

It seems Lydia had lost interest in the two of you but another set of eyes were on you.

“The High Lord’s watching,” you murmured as he tugged on your earlobe with his teeth.

“I don’t care,” Azriel growled, his mouth moving to nibble on the delicate skin of your throat.

“He’s not going to get mad that you're allowing yourself to be seen with Hewn City scum?”

“Fuck him,” he snarled, biting down on your skin and causing you to gasp. He soothed the mark with his tongue before kissing his way up to your mouth again. “Stop talking about another male while you're sitting in my lap.”

“Yes, sir,” you smirked before he kissed you again, his hips thrusting up into your backside. You groaned, your core rubbing against his thigh with his movement and causing a strike of lightning to flash through your body. The need for him was overwhelming. You’d never felt this way towards anyone.

His hand drifted higher on your thigh, until his thumb traced the inner junction between your thigh and hip and felt the wetness that had started to spread there. A small whine came from the back of his throat that had butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach. You pulled away from his kiss to stare up at him with lust filled eyes, his own full of hunger and craving.

“Azriel?”

“Yes, angel?”

“Get us out of here.”

Azriel didn’t need to be told twice. His shadows engulfed the two of you and transported you to your room in The Labyrinth. You were on your knees before him not even a second later, overcome with the need to taste him, to touch him, to devour him whole. You pulled at the laces on his pants, your fingers working quickly. Azriel’s hand slipped into your hair, fisting your locks in between his fingers.

“Angel, you don’t have to—”

“Azriel,” you cut him off, staring up at him with hazy eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”

Before he could reply, you yanked his pants down causing his large member to spring up, already hard and leaking. You nearly groaned at the sight. He was so big, so big and thick. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the head of his cock and he hissed, his fists tightening in your hair.

You stared up at him as you took his cock in your hand and licked up his entire length. He let out a loud moan, tossing his head back at the pleasure. You smiled at the sight, your other hand sliding down your body between your legs, hoping to relieve some of the throbbing.

But Azriel growled and yanked your head back.

“Don’t you dare touch yourself,” Azriel commanded. “Only I get to touch you there.”

If it had been any other male saying those words, you would’ve laughed in their face. But it coming out of Azriel’s mouth only made your throbbing intensify. You whined, but listened, grasping his cock with both hands and finally taking him in your mouth.

“Fuck,” Azriel hissed, guiding your movement with his hand in your hair. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good.”

Your thighs rubbed together at his praise and you continued to bob your head back and forth, swirling your tongue under his cock and running it along his veins. His hips began to thrust in time with your movement, his hand guiding you to take more and more of him in your mouth until he was fucking your face.

“You’re taking me so well,” he moaned, thrusting into your mouth. “Good girl.”

You choked, tears beginning to slide down your cheeks. Normally you would hate a client treating you like this but with Azriel it felt different. Maybe because his rough taking of you was coupled with small words of praise and encouragement, urging you on.

“Just like that,” he groaned. “Fuck, angel, you look so pretty with your lips around my cock.”

You whimpered, taking more of him until his cock was hitting the back of your throat. Your hands jerked the part of him you couldn’t take because of his unbelievable size. His groans and growls kept you going, kept the fire between your thighs burning. You needed him more than you needed air.

Azriel yanked you away from his cock by your hair and you whined at the loss of contact. He pulled you up off the floor, his eyes nearly black with lust. “Take off your dress,” he ordered.

You maintained eye contact with him as you quickly stripped yourself before him. The air around the two of you was intense, the need for one another so tangible. In this moment, you weren’t Serenity, the prostitute who worked here. But Y/n. The girl underneath the mask.

“Get on the bed,” he demanded. “On your knees.”

You scurried to the bed, doing as he asked. You were entirely exposed to him in this position, your arousal dripping down your leg. You could hear him taking off the rest of his leathers and waiting in anticipation until his hands fell on your hips, rubbing them softly.

“Gods, you are so beautiful,” he murmured, one hand trailing up your back and gently moving your hair to one side so he could see your face. His cock rubbed against your folds, gathering your wetness. “Fuck and so ready for me.”

“Azriel, please,” you begged. You could feel yourself gripping around nothing, needing to be filled by him and him only.

“One day, I’m going to worship your entire body,” he grunted. “But I need you, angel. I need you right now.”

“Please,” you begged again. “Take me. I’m yours.”

Azriel slammed into you so quickly, it knocked the breath from your lungs. You moaned at the feel of him, at being stretched so thoroughly. He waited a moment, his breathing labored, allowing you to adjust before he slid back out and roughly thrust back in.

“Say it again,” he growled, taking a brutal pace, slamming into you over and over again.

You whimpered, “I’m yours.”

“Again,” he snarled, his pounding into you causing the whole bed to shake.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the intense pleasure. Your whole body was tingling at his touch, at his words. “I’m yours, Azriel. I’m yours.”

One hand stayed on your hip to help keep you in place while the other slithered up your back and into your hair, fisting it again. He pulled your head back, exposing your neck as he drilled into you. Your back arched as you cried out at the feeling. You had already been so turned on, your orgasm was quickly building.

“More,” you groaned. “More, Azriel, please.”

He growled and yanked you up by your hair, pulling your body flush against his. The new angle felt deeper, his cock brutally hitting you in that sweet spot that had you seeing stars. His hand traveled from your waist to your breasts, squeezing and caressing them. Your head fell back against his shoulder as your body arched into his touch.

He released your hair to rub circles on your clit, leaving you both breathless and screaming.

Your body was entirely his in this moment. He controlled every ounce of your pleasure, every cry that came from your lips. You had never reveled in giving yourself up like this before. Not until Azriel came.

“Azriel…I’m gonna….I’m gonna,” you panted, the lewd noise of skin smacking together the only other sound in the room.

“Be a good girl and cum for me angel,” he whispered, huskily, in your ear.

His words pushed you over the edge and your orgasm slammed into you. Your entire body clenched around him as waves and waves of pleasure crested through you. Your vision went white hot with it. Azriel’s name fell from your lips like a Devil’s prayer.

“Fuck,” he hissed, fucking you through your orgasm. Until you finally came down from your high, your body slumping in his hold. He let you fall to the soft bed, your face smashing against the cushions as he held you up by your hips. His rhythm became desperate, feral until he finally came, burying himself in you with a loud growl.

You were both still panting as he slid out of you with a hiss and fell to the bed next to you. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled your body on top of his, letting his wings stretch out. You laid a cheek on his chest, feeling safe as he wrapped both arms around you.

“Don’t leave this time,” you whispered.

Azriel kissed the top of your head. “I won’t.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Three days later, you were sitting in Lydia’s office, your nightgown covered in blood, a numb look on your face. Keir was standing before you, leaning against her desk with his arms crossed as he sneered down at you.

The burning on your ring finger was lingering, one of the tally marks gone.

“Lydia tells me that the shadowsinger has taken a special interest in you,” Keir said, stroking his jaw. Your eyes remained distant, staring past him to the wall.

The blood was still warm on your skin and you knew the body lying in your bed hadn’t even stiffened. You knew better than to talk during these meetings, allowing Keir and Lydia to converse with each other while you sat there.

“Show me your hand,” Keir ordered.

You lifted your arm, holding it outstretched to him. He took it, twisting it to see your ring finger.

“She only has one mark left, my Lord,” Lydia added from behind her desk.

“I see that,” Keir said, letting your hand drop. “Your last target is the shadowsinger. Kill him and you will have completed our bargain and will be free to go.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, your eyes going wide as you finally looked at the male standing above you. “W-what?”

“You heard me, girl,” he snarled. “Kill the shadowsinger and you’re free to go.”

Kill the shadowsinger and you’ll be free to go. Kill the shadowsinger and you’ll be free to go. Kill the shadowsinger and you’ll be free to go. Kill the shadowsinger and you’ll be free to go.

Keir’s words played in your head over and over again as you made your way to the bathing chambers to finally wash the blood of your latest target off you.

Kill Azriel and you’d finally be free to leave this place. Finally free to take all the money you’d been saving up and leave this damned court to build a new life for yourself. The dream you’d had all along. Kill Azriel and your dream of being free would finally come true.

Kill Azriel.

Kill Azriel or…don’t and end up stuck here, lost in The Labyrinth forever.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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#acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel smut #azriel x y/n #azriel spymaster

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 4 months

Text

Realizations

Dad!Simon Ghost Riley x Wife!Reader

Thank you guys so much for 1k, it means the whole world for me because now once did I expect to ever have my page grown this big and not once had I imagined that I would make these many friends here who happened to be so sweet. Also to @connorsui who has been most definitely been waiting the answer to this.

So in honor of 1k, I wrote this long awaited backstory for Ghost and Lovie (Ghostie's parents) that I hope you guys will enjoy since it so happens that our beloved @ave661 has posted another Dad!Ghost render. (Credits to her again for the renders in this post <3) (Sweetie, I love you but that tag on Soap with this render was unnecessary 😭🫶)

To the people who congratulated me, through replies, likes and reblogs, I owe y'all a fat kiss. Mwahhh <333

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @thesnowurzikdjinn @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @trepaika @starryylies @demidemon09

Warnings/Disclaimers: Stalking (not by Simon), Typical mentions of CoD violence?, Mentions of Simon's past abuse, Creepy guy?? (Not Simon), Mentions of violent and a bit gory descriptions on what wanted to do to the stalker, This is not proofread yet.

With the words of my mother and in true reputation style, Are you ready for it?

I think I need to say this on my account again, English is NOT my first language and all copyrights regarding the plot and some characters within the storyline belong to me. Edit: please help me y'all, I'm losing so much relevance in the span of less than a month, my recent works have gotten nothing and I'm scared that this post proves that. I think I've learned my lesson never to take breaks ever again 😭

Simon never imagined himself in this predicament, always thinking that he'd be out there somewhere, more likely drowning himself in a mission. Not even a home, he thought that if it hadn't for your persuasiveness to interact with him back then then he'd still be back in that shitty apartment complex.

Simon placed his duffle bag on the wood of the porch, the jingling of his keys while he looked for the correct one. He tried his best to make as little noise as possible, it was passed midnight, the last thing he would want was to disturb his wife and daughter from resting.

Hauling the duffle bag in and throwing it on the couch, Simon opt to see what his girls were up to. The giggling and commotion making him smile, you both were supposed to be asleep by now but you were unable to put her to rest because she's just too hyper, so that left you to entertain her by tossing her up and catching her.

"Dada..!" A squeal from the room came, the little one snapping her head to the opening of the door making you look as well, Simon took a peek from the half-way opened door.

Adorable little thing clapping her hands together, pleased that her dad is home while sitting on her mom. She got off, crawling near the edge of the bed with no sense of danger, fortunate for her that her dad is quick with catching her before you could.

You took a deep breath from the shock, looking at your husband and smiling sweetly at him. He asked you not to get off the bed as you were about to, laying next to you he snakes his arm underneath you on your waist and pulls you in.

"I missed my girls.." He said, voice deep and laced with exhaustion, despite that his hold and gaze was the warmest it could be.

"We missed you too Si, so much." You mumbled as your eyes flutter shut to enjoy his touch. You opened them to the sound of a kiss, he kissed the little one's forehead then yours.

Sometimes you vaguely remember the first time he and you met, how it even came to be, this life of domesticity. You, him and your little girl, family is a heavy word for Simon but it was just perfect. This was the family he wanted, the family that he thought he didn't deserve and never would have.

The feeling of coming home to all this started because you were so forgetful, who knew that would be the skill that brought you to him..?

• ──── ✦ ──── •

He emptied his pockets, to the lieutenant's dismay, the box of cigarettes only had one stick left. Since he was going out to smoke it anyway, he might as well get another box from the convenience store nearby. He took his keys from the kitchen counter and headed out, hearing a little commotion that peeked his interest.

Simon never paid much mind to whatever was going on within his apartment building despite the many gossips that were present within the building and the renters. So it happens that the old lady next to his place mentions how they'll be a new tenant in the other apartment next to his.

'Thank God' Simon thought, not that he was particularly religious but he'd been hoping for the longest time for the former renter to leave because let's be honest, who wants to live next to a frat boy with no sense of shame or consideration given that walls are thin? Little did he know he'd be blessed with the next one..

"Oh- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to.." Simon hears a voice from a little below him, he'd only register what had happened after the fact. Poor girl carrying this box bumped into him a little too hard, so much so that she stumbled back a bit.

You stared up to the 6'4 man blinking, he only shrugged it off to which you smiled to. You tried to make small talk since you were new and it wouldn't hurt to at least know one person right? After all, you were trying to step out a bit of your comfort zone.

"Hi.. I'm [Name].." He only stared at you for a while and replied, "Simon.." you gave him a warm smile before nodding and continuing to bring the boxes into your new apartment while your new neighbor entered the elevator.

You cut the boxes open to start unpacking, a few minutes in and you decided to go on a short break, you rummaged through the small box of food only to find that the recently bought box of tea was empty. You sighed at this, humming as you remembered the convenience store you passed by earlier on the way to the apartment.

Taking your keys and locking the door behind you, you made your way out the complex and walked a few blocks, you only started to notice how late it was with the streetlights coming on even though the sun is only about to set. That's something to get used to, hmm?

The cool breeze hits your skin as you enter, scent of faint instant coffee and many other kinds of foods and products made themselves known. You walked around for a while, checking on what other things you might need but then you tried to remind yourself that you were saving up and on a budget so you took a box of tea and walked up to the register.

You heard footsteps behind you falling in line, after placing the box on the counter, you searched your pockets for your wallet.

'Shit..!' you cursed yourself out mentally trying not to panic as Simon basically watches you frantically patting your pockets, you left your wallet back at the apartment. "You left your wallet-" Simon stated the obvious, "I'll cover it.." there wasn't even a time to argue with him, he just stepped next to you and placed the pack of cigarettes.

"I'll pay you back as soon as we get back to the apartment" You insisted to which Simon only shrugged and declined, it's just a box of tea and it's not like it'll make him go bankrupt, besides he liked your taste, the one you got happened to be his favorite brand.

Since you were headed in the same place anyway, you and Simon walked back together side by side, however one thing you did find odd was when he gently took you wrist and pulled you inward next to him, he was the one now closest to the road.

The walk back was silent, a comfortable silence. A few days after that encounter, you made sure to make an effort for him to know that you appreciated his gesture back at the convenience store. The lieutenant was alarmed by the knock on his door, opening it to find no person but a tupperware filled with buttery shortbread cookies.

He smiled at how tiny the plastic container looked in his hands, how he noticed the note attached "Thanks for the tea, this isn't that special but I hope you like it -[Name]" and the Sanrio themed stickers stuck onto the lid and on the top part of the tiny note. You ran out of sticky notes..

Simon found himself snacking on those cookies later on, oddly enough, they reminded him of his mom.. how she used to love baking back then, it was her way of escape whenever Simon's "father" wasn't home, as well as gardening.

For the first time in a while Simon "Ghost" Riley let out a smile that wasn't smug or a smirk but a genuine smile, one that had warmth to it, one that no matter how hard his mind tried to surppress it, his body refused to.

It didn't take long for you and Simon to get to know each other a bit, little by little it seemed like you two were becoming like friends rather than just neighbors. Let's be honest, who just randomly gives their neighbors weekly baked goods for the sole reason of "just because they wanted to"?

You found yourself always looking forward to the Friday nights chilling with him at the rooftop, mugs with hot tea on hand while he smoked and you read.

Listening to his stupid jokes and remarks that slowly turn into deep conversations and life things. Simon was just... far more open than he's ever been, sure he's talked about his day before to his comrades but never like this, not in a way where he's pouring his heart out, letting you in on how he feels about certain things.

He just got back from a mission, a rough one to be exact. Shoulders slumped from exhaustion as he walked the streets near the apartment complex, no space for his bike so he had to leave it somewhere private while he fidgeted with it's keys.

Simon swore that he almost jumped out of his own body, first instinct being to push you off but he recognized you. He gave you a questioning look, hands were shaking as you so desperately linked you arm around his.

"Hmm?" He hummed, hearing you mumbling something but it was incoherent to his ears.

"Behind us.. please Si, help..." Come to think if it, you never knew when Simon turned into Si. Best believe he knew and still remembers when perfectly.. not the time, there's a serious threat, he didn't look. He didn't need to, guessing by the heavy footsteps, some creep decided to follow you at this hour.

He slowly slipped his arm away from your grip and snaked it around your waist, pulling you in closer to his side while the two of you continued treading closer to the complex. You closed your eyes for a few seconds at a time hoping it would end.

• ──── ✦ A few days later ✦ ──── •

Knocking, frantic knocking was what Simon heard at his door. He wasn't expecting anyone, so why the sudden visit? He opened the door and saw you, Simon knew something was off from the look on your face, you looked pale as if you were sick to your stomach while trying so desperately to catch your breath.

"Can I please come in.. Simon..?" You asked in between breaths. You looked around you, especially behind you, body shivering a bit. He took notice of this and had no hesitation, he pulled you in by your arm. His grip firm but gentle, Simon closed the door behind him.

"Remember that guy who was creeping around when I asked for your help..?" You tried to explain but Simon already knew the moment your mouth opened. You had a stalker.. it was best to call the cops on shit like this.

Simon did his best even though not knowing much about how to comfort someone, he did well in making you feel safe without having to tell you that he'll do so, you just know it in your gut that he'd protect you even if it's just now.

Your breath picked up, slowly backing away from the door as you heard footsteps, clenching your fists and hoping that he didn't see you enter Simon's door. Simon wrapped his arms around you, keeping you in place and from further backing away from the door.

You felt his palm drag up and down your back, it was extremely warm, it stopped for a while. His arm wrapped around your waist, other hand in your hair pushing your head down a bit so it was buried in his chest while you gripped his shirt. Simon felt your trembling body against him slowly relax.

"Deep breaths, angel.." The nickname he whispered would've made you smile under any other circumstance but not right now, you needed to calm your nerves before you panic and make an impulsive decision that could hurt yourself. Like instructed, you followed along Simon's demonstration, pressing his forehead onto yours maybe just a bit too intimately.

You winced at the loud sound of banging on the door, you knew it too well. Simon shoved the handle of his combat knife in your hand, he told you that if anything were to happen, protect yourself with it.

As soon as the Lieutenant swung the door open, you could hear punches, things knocking over and among other things, your stalker's voice.

You'd never forget that, how pitchy it was. Nails on the chalkboard was the best way to describe it, how the man was cackling almost made you annoyed. Simon called on security and the man was dealt with, you came out from hiding and saw both fear and anger in Simon's eyes.

You would never know how much he wanted to tear that man's heart after skinning him alive for even bringing fear into your eyes.

Simon "I care too much for someone I just met" Riley finally saw how his knuckles and fingernails were caked with blood, went off to go wash it and himself.

Getting back to you after half an hour, you reached out for him only for him to withdraw, you looked at him confused and he looks at you with pure guilt..

Your eyes widened in realization, "Oh Simon.. I'm not scared.." you smiled at him. He reached out a shaky hand to you, hesitating before closing his hand back.

You took his hand in yours, bringing it up to your lips and giving it a small kiss, hoping it calms his nerves. Well it did the opposite, it even more overwhelming for him having you kiss his palm while you look up at him, watching you nudge your face into his palm so invitingly.

The way your lashes just sat perfectly atop your cheeks while you slowly blinked up at him. Pressing the same scarred and calloused hands that almost killed a man that night on your face and rubbing the back with you thumb.

Simon had never felt that much guilt before for hurting someone, only after he saw the look in your eyes, which in turn were not something he caused. For the first time in his life too, Simon was comforted by something or rather someone immensely..

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