#like tell me I’m wrong? he is just superior in that way

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Can you write something for Sephiroth(pre-nibelheim) or Astarion? Your work is absolutely fantastic btw I’m in love with it ❤️❤️❤️

Not So Subtle

pairing : sephiroth x female!reader

summary : you have a teenage girl level crush on him, that you and zack talk (very loudly) about when you think no one can hear. but he does.

a/n : this takes place pre-nibelheim so everyone is happy and well! in honour of ff7 rebirth :)

“Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.” You snap your jaw shut, eyes moving to glare at the young, dark haired boy who has decided to break your daydream. 

“It wasn’t even open.” He plops down beside you, shoulder touching yours. 

“Mhm.. and you weren’t drooling over our superior.” 

“Your superior,” you correct, eyebrow lifted with pointed sarcasm. If you could stick your tongue out at him, without it seeming childish to everyone around you, you would.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t a first class soldier either,” He points out, amused. Your elbow makes contact with his arm, and his hand reaches to cover the area as he laughs.

Zack was younger than you, though he certainly never acted like there was an age gap. In his mind, you were the same age as him in some way or another. You had always trained together so you felt much closer in age even though you were at least 3 years older than him. At times, he felt like a younger brother to you.

Even more so when he found out you had a crush on the man he spent everyday training beside. Constant teasing, constant threats to spill your secrets, constant blackmail. You couldn’t even count the amount of times he had used your crush to his advantage on one hand. 

There was a time you had to put your foot down and tell him no more, cause it was wrong of course. But also mostly cause you were running out of money to buy his silence.

“Yeah but I'm older, closer to his age. So I don't have to talk to him like I'm below him, unlike some people.” 

“Can you even talk to him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then why are you sitting here staring..?” 

“He’s training..” 

“Mhm.” The look on his face tells you he’s not convinced. Right now, it was the truth, Sephiroth was swinging his sword in the domed combat simulator, glass walls clear enough for you to see through. So the excuse of not being able to talk to him, out of fear of being sliced in half by his giant sword, was plausible. 

But any other time that you had sat staring at him, making no effort to speak to him, rendered that excuse inapplicable. 

“Shut it..” You push his shoulder with your elbow once more, and he snorts out a laugh. 

“I don’t get why you can’t just talk to him..” 

“Of course you don’t.. because you're obviously blind. Or you’ve been hit in the head one too many times in combat training.” You turn your gaze away from Zack to look back through the glass enclosing Sephiroth. 

His hair is tied up, hanging loosely against his back. It’s a rare sight, so you indulge yourself and stare a second longer than you should. It’s so relaxed, you think, compared to the seriousness of always having it pristinely down. There are stray hairs, flyaways, falling from the hair tie and hanging against his face. It’s unkempt, a nice contrast to his seemingly perfect lifestyle.

He swings his sword with calculated grace, a grace that you (or Zack for that matter) had yet to achieve. The control he held over his blade was impeccable, it never slipped or moved from his hold even when his hands were moving faster than his body could keep up with. Just another thing that had to be perfect in his life.

“How could I ever speak to him and not make a fool out of myself? For one, he’s first class, I'd totally ruin my chances of making first class if I said something totally outrageous. And knowing me, my mind would be so jumbled, I wouldn't even realize the words had left my mouth before he put me on some kind of ‘do not promote’ list.” 

“Oh so.. the only reason you won’t talk to him is because you're worried about making first class? Not.. I don’t know, maybe, the 12-year-old-girl-level crush you have on him.” Your hand slaps over his lips, eyes scanning around you. For the most part, no one looks at the two of you, and you figure the ones that are looking are doing so because of your hand covering Zacks blabbermouth. 

“Would you shut it?” Even with your hand covering his mouth, he manages to laugh at your widened eyes. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes are a dead giveaway of his amusement. You remove your hand with a pointed look, one that says ‘keep it down’ in a far more subtle way than a hand over his face. 

“You’re so lucky you’re younger than me.” 

“More like so lucky you don’t want to make your boyfriend angry. Besides, you know I’m stronger than you.” 

“Mhm..” You roll your eyes, and with a sigh, you turn back to face Sephiroth. He stands still now and you realize all of the practice dummies have been broken. From your position, he doesn't even seem to have broken a sweat, even though he’s been in there for over an hour. His sword lies on the ground, thrown without care. 

Even with Zack beside you, and the silent teasing that exudes from his body, your eyes remain trained on Sephiroth. You realize it’s childish, to stare and never approach, but the idea of even standing next to him is enough to intimidate you. 

He runs his hand over his back, pulling the hair tie from his hair, allowing it to fall against his shoulders once more. He turns, presumably to leave the combat simulated, and his eyes meet yours through the glass. You knew your staring wasn’t subtle, it had never been before, but you had never expected to get caught. You had never been caught. 

You turn your head away so fast that Zack almost flinches, probably thinking you were going to hit him again. 

“Jesus,” he looks at you with confusion, “What’s the problem?” 

“He saw me.” 

“What?” 

“He saw me! Through the glass! He totally caught me staring at him..” You stare at Zack with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, before you head falls into your lap in shame.

“Would you relax? I guarantee he doesn’t care or he didn’t even see you. Maybe he was just looking at his reflection.”

You look back towards Sephiroth to see him leaving through the doors of the dome, and then you turn back to Zack with a pitiful whine. 

“This is so pathetic…” 

“I agree,” he smiles when you shoot him a glare, “Just talk to him.” 

“Talk to who?” A deep voice sounds from beside you, higher up than where you sit. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stick up, and Zack's expression is enough to confirm your suspicion about who stands next to you. 

You turn your head to face Sephiroth, and he stares at you expectantly. You think you catch the slightest smirk building on the corner of his lips, but you also think you might just be trying to make yourself feel better. Standing, nowhere close to his height, you hold your hands up. Zack takes this as his sign to stand too. 

“Nobody! Angeal!” You fumble out words, trying to throw out a name before he grows suspicious. 

“Well which is it, nobody? or Angeal?” 

“Angeal. Yeah! Angeal, so.. um.. I should probably go find him.” 

“It just so happens that I have to find Angeal too, allow me to join you.” 

You want to throw the nearest chair at Zack, curse him for speaking so loudly. And you curse yourself for not thinking of an excuse in a reasonable time frame, so you just nod, and excuse yourself from Zack. 

He gives you a pitiful smile, and when you turn to look behind you for support one last time as you walk away he gives you a thumbs up. His face contradicts his hands, and he seems like he’s in a far less teasing mood. 

“Whatever you have to say to him, it must be important.” 

“Hm?” You tilt your head up and to the side to look at Sephiroth, you’ve been walking together for a few minutes now, mostly silently. 

“You're walking fast.” You shrug your shoulders and continue walking. 

At least until your steps are interrupted by him stepping in front of you. 

“Is there a problem?”

“What? Of course not!” He practically glares down at you, arms crossed over his muscular chest. You can see the outline of his defined chest muscles through the straps of his top. And you realize you're practically drooling over him, right in front of him so you force your eyes to meet his once more. But his glare is replaced by a smirk, and amusement in his eyes. 

“I see now..” 

“See what?” 

“Really? Do you think you’re subtle?” Your face flushes and once again you want the floor to open up and consume you whole, but you're stuck here. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” Step back, you scream at yourself, but he moves closer and it’s impossible to move your feet. They feel like lead underneath you, not even giving way to a small shuffle backwards.

“No?” His hand reaches up to rest on your cheek, it's gentle, far gentler than you would’ve expected. But the way his fingers tense against your skin has you feeling fuzzy, “You think I don’t notice the way you stare? Hm?” 

He stares at you, thumb moving to the other side of your chin, holding your face in his hand. He maneuvers your face, moving it however he likes. You realize he’s examining the flush in your cheeks, the way your lips part like you want to say something. His tongue gives a humiliating click when your lips close, and the words are lost. 

“I hear you, when you talk to Zack,” he stops his movement, stilling your face to look directly at him, “You’ve never been a quiet girl. Why are you so quiet now?” 

When you don’t respond his eyebrows scrunch, its subtle and almost missable because it’s gone in seconds. He’s not satisfied by your silence.

Sephiroth bends his shoulders, moving closer to your face, “Although, I suppose you’ve never been very talkative around me.” He moves closer still, swerving his nose to the side of your face until he’s able to speak in your ear, “That’s not very nice. You might hurt my feelings if you keep ignoring me.” 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out meekly, you're honestly not even sure it’s audible at first but he laughs quietly, breath fanning on your ear. His other hand, the one that doesn’t hold your face, reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before he pulls away. The breath that leaves your body is almost embarrassing. 

“What’re you sorry for, hm?” He stares expectantly down at you, eyes never leaving yours. 

“F…for ignoring you.”

“So you ignore me?” 

“No!”

“So you’re lying?” You shake your head as much as you can within the hold of his fingers, “Then what are you sorry for?” 

“For not talking to you.” 

“And why don’t you talk to me, I'm sure you know it’s rude to stare and never speak to someone.”

“Because..” His grip loosens, hand moving back to your cheek, thumb resting on your cheek bone. 

“Because why? Cmon use your voice, the one you use to talk about me with Zack.” 

You stare up at him pitifully, and the way words fumble from your mouth has you wanting to throw up, “Because I have this stupid crush on you, and I can't talk to you without getting nervous. I know it’s stupid and I should have told you sooner so you could reject me and I could move on and I never meant to offend you or-”

You hadn’t realized he had gotten so close until his nose touches yours, top lip brushing against yours as he tips your chin up towards him. Your words fall flat on your tongue when you meet his eyes, or rather when you see his eyes that are focused on your lips. 

“Offend me.. that’s sweet..” He’s so close to you, that every word has his lips brushing against your own again and again. 

“Sephiroth..?” You suppress the urge to move the tiniest bit forward so your lips can fully meet his. And you're sure your face is impossibly red. 

“You should’ve told me about this ‘stupid’ crush sooner, such a foolish girl. May I?” You're confused, what is he asking for? His eyes flicker up to yours before moving back to your lips. When you realize what he means you nod your head perhaps too eagerly. 

Slowly, to tease, his lips press against yours, palm pressing into the skin of yours to keep you in place. Eyes fluttering closed, your hands find his chest, silently screaming about the position you’ve found yourself in.

His lips overpower yours in every regard, moving languidly against you. His other hand reaches up to the free side of your face, fingers tickling the skin on your neck and thumb resting on your jaw. 

When he pulls away you can only look at him with half lidded eyes, dazed. 

Al he does is chuckle, rubbing your cheek with his thumb and patting your head. One hand holds the back of your head, leaning down to kiss your temple, before stepping behind you, “Don’t be so shy from now on. Maybe we’ll end up here again.”

His steps echo through the empty hall as he walks away.

“Wait… wait.. I thought you had to go see Angeal?” You turn, taking one step in his direction, then stopping yourself in your tracks hesitantly. 

“I didn’t. And I know you didn’t either.” He only turns his cheek towards you to speak and then continues on down the hallway, tall and brooding.

#x reader #oneshot #drabble #sephiroth x reader #sephiroth #ff7 #sephiroth ff7 #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy vii #female reader #fem reader

[bau-muffin]

“It’s All Wrong But It’s Alright”

Summary: You and Aaron Hotchner have an interesting relationship. He’s your boss, and you’re one of the agents underneath him.

What happens when you get triggered during a case, and comforting you leads to something more?

Word count: 6,006

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Reader

Read it on AO3

mentions: SA, CSA, it’s implied that reader has a history of CSA, oral sex, fingering

Hotch knew as well as anybody that this case would emotionally weigh heavy on the team, maybe even more than it usually did.

They had successfully apprehended Monica Menzel and her sixteen year old son Jacob, but certainly not before uncovering disturbing details that would more than likely haunt the team for the rest of their lives.

The victims, all of them, were below the age of nine. There were no preferences in boys or girls or hair color, not even eye color, but they were all tortured and sexually assaulted in the same exact way, and then their bodies disposed of and covered with a tarp, as though in remorse. As it turned out, Jacob was losing control and abusing these children while Monica disposed of them quietly.

It made Hotch doubt whether good in humanity ever existed, especially when he thought of Jack waiting at home for him to come back so he could tell him all of the shenanigans he had gotten up to at his Aunt Jessica’s and regale him with the details of classroom drama.

And, he figured, the rest of the team were thinking similar thoughts, their minds all engulfed with the children in their lives and how it only takes a split second for every sense of safety to become compromised.

But as the team left the precinct, neatly separated into SUVs, and caravanned back to the hotel, Hotch looked over at you in the passenger seat and wondered who you were thinking of. When he had opened the door for you, you’d sat down and not even murmured a “thank you,” like you usually did, instead looking as though you were a million miles away. He knew something was turning inside your head. It didn’t take a profiler to see it.

“Are you all right?” he asked as he flipped up the blinker to make a turn.

“I’m exhausted,” you replied, almost too quickly. “We’ve been up and at it with this case since five this morning, and I didn’t sleep very well last night. Probably didn’t get more than three hours

in total.”

When Garcia had booked hotel rooms for you guys, she disclosed that since the town was at the peak of tourist season, she couldn’t book enough rooms for everybody to have a room of their own; which meant that two agents would have to take one for the team and share. You and Hotch had drawn the short straws, but despite being a subordinate and superior sharing a room, it hadn’t been awkward at all. You each had a double bed and made yourselves at home.

Still, he was all too aware that you had tossed and turned into the wee hours of the morning, and more than ever he wished he could have assuaged whatever was bothering you.

“Was the bed uncomfortable for you?” Hotch asked casually, his eyes still on the road.

“Not at all. I was just… thinking, is all. You know how it can be.”

He nodded solemnly, his lips forming a solid line. “I do know.”

You hummed an affirmative noise before turning to look outside the window, though there wasn’t much to look at since it was already almost dark and most of the street lights were still off.

Hotch wished you would open up to him. Heck, even before, you didn’t mind opening up to him, even just a little. But now it was like a barrier loomed around you and your thoughts, forbidding anyone who dared approach.

“For most of this case, I found myself thinking of Jack,” he confided, glancing over at you.

“Yeah? I don’t doubt it. Having kids when you’re in this line of business… it can’t be easy.” For a moment, your tone sounded open and concerned, and he sensed your eyes on his side profile.

“It’s not at all,” Hotch said quietly with his eyes still on the road ahead of him. “It makes me wish I could take Jack somewhere and hide him away from the ugly side of humanity. But… I’m all too aware that’s not feasible, nor is it healthy. So, we persevere together, and all I can hope to do is guide him until he’s ready to step out into the world on his own.”

“I imagine he’s already seen too much of how ugly humanity can be,” you said gently.

“He has. There’s no hiding it from him now,” he admitted softly.

“Once you’ve seen it, heard it… you can’t go back from it. Even that young.”

Something in your voice made him glance your way intensely. Was it… wistfulness? Melancholy?

It was quiet for a few moments as he focused on driving while you turned back to the window and continued staring out. He figured he couldn’t force you to confide in him, so he may as well give you space, but he was still worried; probably more than he’d like to confess.

As soon as you entered the hotel room, you beelined straight for your suitcase. “I’m going to take a shower first, if that’s alright with you?”

Hotch nodded as he began plugging up his devices on his side of the shared side table. “Perfectly fine with me. It’ll give me time to call Jack before we settle down for the night. Take your time.”

You began gathering up your clothes and necessities and toted them to the bathroom, the door closing behind you softly. Hotch had never wanted to wiggle his way into your brain more and find out what was going on in there.

He’s always known you had a soft spot for children, and he was first hand testament to it, just witnessing how you’d interacted with Jack every time Jessica brought him by the BAU for a visit or when he would bring Jack for an event at Rossi’s—you’d always taken time to ask him how school was, you’d ask about some project or another he had told you about before, and often times you’d reach out to ruffle his hair fondly. When he had read up on your files during the hiring process, he also learned you had nieces and nephews, and from how you spoke of them, you seemed to love them and had a good relationship with them; probably a tad bit protective, especially considering what you’d seen on this job.

But something about the way you were withdrawing and reserved now suggested this was personal, much more personal than you wanted to let on.

Still, Hotch felt like it was none of his business, and picked up his phone to call Jack.

By the time he finished an exuberant conversation with his son and Jessica, Hotch heard your blow dryer running. (you always kept an extra blow dryer in your go bag. Derek once suggested you take it out to have more room for clothes, and Hotch thought you’d form daggers with your eyeballs and throw them at him. (Derek never brought it up again.)

Fifteen minutes later, you walked in with your dirty clothes and stuffed them into a mesh bag in your go bag; and Hotch felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

He hardly ever saw you dressed this casually. Your hair was down, fluffy at the crown from blow drying it, and wearing a large oversized t-shirt and shorts, as well as colorful fuzzy socks on your feet. But your face—it made him stop cold. Your eyelashes were wet with freshly shed tears, your eyes were rimmed with redness, and your cheeks were spackled with flush.

Hotch said your name, but he was interrupted.

“Hotch… just—hold me,” you said pleadingly, your voice cracking slightly.

Wordlessly, Hotch opened up his arms to you while he was sitting on the bed, and you fell into him, burying your head into his chest while your body spasmed with sobs.

He didn’t even care if you got snot on his dress shirt. Whatever comfort you needed that he could afford you, he wanted to give it to you. A washable shirt was nothing compared to the weight you seemed to be holding inside.

Soothingly, Hotch rubbed your back while his chin rested on your head and whispered, “Hey, hey.”

You continued sobbing, and tentatively his hand moved up to your hair, stroking it softly. Soon, the shaking and spasming ceased, and you just leaned into him, and the first breath you exhaled seemed like it released twenty pounds of burden from you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked gently, his hand roving politely over your back. He couldn’t help but think about how the cotton shirt under his hand was the only thing separating him from your skin; probably just as soft and gently dewy if your face was any indicator, but he pushed it away as soon as the thought came—now was not the time.

You were quiet for a moment.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Hotch said quietly, “but I know that talking about it… it can help, getting it out in the open.”

“I don’t want to burden you, Hotch. This case was heavy for all of us,” you all but whispered, almost muffled by his shirt.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed you shutting down after a case. Especially pertaining to child abuse. I’ll respect your privacy, but you need to know you don’t have to bear this on your own.”

You chewed your lip as tears threatened to spill over again, contemplating your options. Lie to your boss and evade the question? Pretend everything was okay? Maybe tell him you’re emotional because you’re on your period?

Finally, you lifted your head away from his chest and looked at him. It was almost breathtaking how much comfort and care you found in Hotch’s face, and it sent a shiver down your back as the kindness in his warm brown eyes melted you.

“Hotch…”

“Aaron,” he urged softly, “call me Aaron. Don’t you think we might be beyond work nicknames now?”

“Aaron,” you tested out the name on your tongue like a foreign object as your tone lowered, “I… I have a history with…. sexual abuse.”

“It’s not in your file,” Hotch said, concern creasing his face, and a little bit of his professionalism seeping in.

You shook your head. “It wouldn’t be. I had it sealed away.”

“But-“

“I knew it would affect how people, especially employers in our field, would look at me, Hotch,” you said, “especially as a woman. I… I’m considered weaker emotionally, at least from the stereotypical level anyways. Swimming with this upstream in my public record would’ve held me back. I hold up, and I save my breakdowns for when I get home. And in my defense, this is only the second one I’ve had since I started working at the BAU.”

Hotch looked at you, his brows slightly furrowed. “That… makes sense. But I still wish you had told me- or at least one of us- about this. We could have helped you reach out to resources. You… didn’t deserve to carry all of this by yourself, especially when you know your cases might trigger you.”

“It’s taken me a while to trust anybody with this,” you said softly.

He’s silent for a moment, his hand stilling while it was smoothing your hair. “Do you trust me?”

“I trust you every day in the field with my life, Hotch.”

“Aaron,” he reminded you, “You do. But… do you trust me with your past?”

“Yes,” you murmured.

Silence fell between you as you both seemed to become aware of what was happening in that moment.

Your head was on his chest, as it moved up and down with every breath. One of his hands was in your hair while the other was resting on your back. Your hands were splayed on his shoulders. His lips were only mere inches from the crown of your head. Your legs were resting between his. You were in his arms and the shiver of sadness that came with crying was being chased away by the warmth of them around you.

The temptation on Hotch’s part to kiss your head, your nose, your lips, it was almost surmountable. But he didn’t want to take advantage of your vulnerability, or his position as your superior. He couldn’t do that to you.

So, you did what any subordinate would spontaneously do when they’re a little fatigued by his politeness- you reached up and kissed his face, only missing the corner of his mouth by half of an inch.

He said your name almost in a gasp.

It was such a simple thing, but it shifted the world underneath you both.

“I’m your superior,” Hotch reminded as much to himself as to you, “we can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“You’re emotionally vulnerable right now. I’m your boss and you’re my subordinate, so there’s also a power imbalance. And I- I’m so much older than you. You could have any man you want, you don’t have to settle for me.” His voice cracked almost minutely when he mentioned settling, but you heard it.

You scoffed as you lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not settling, Aaron. I don’t know who told you that nonsense, but no one is settling by… by being with you. And… I may be emotionally vulnerable, yes,” you admitted before your tone turned soft, “but I’ve… I’ve been wanting this for a long time.”

Hotch felt surprise jolt through him and he tried to lean up a little more even with you on top of him, though his hand still cradled the small of your back. “Oh, really?”

“Are you really so surprised?”

“You’re just…” he struggled to find the right way to say what he meant, “you could have anybody you want, you know? I’m a middle aged man headed towards being over the hill, with emotional baggage, and a young son.”

“You’re also emotionally constipated,” you said with a small smile tugging your lips.

He chuckled quietly, and you felt the vibration of it from his chest. “Is that supposed to convince me?”

“It means I’m aware of your shortcomings, Hotch. Or what others may view as shortcomings.”

There was another beat of silence, then things started moving like a whirlwind.

He rolled you over so that you were underneath him, and his nose rubbed the side of your face as he lowered his mouth to your ear. “You really need to start calling me Aaron during these intimate times, don’t you think?”

You gulped as you looked up at him.

“Are you sure you want this?” Hotch asked quietly, “I would feel… so guilty if you ended up… regretting this later. It’s okay to take a bit longer to think about it.”

There was a hint of passion in your voice as you tilted your chin up to him. “You don’t know how long I have been thinking about this, Aaron Hotchner.”

That lit a fire in him that he didn’t know he had a wick for, and his hands slid over the sides of your face as he tilted your head up towards him, inspecting the flush that had formed on your cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful. I’ve always been aware of it, did you know that?”

You opened your mouth to answer, and he covered your lips with his own, feasting on you like a man starved. It wasn’t long before his tongue asked entrance, and you granted it, his tongue grazing against yours.

You weren’t sure how you expected Hotch to kiss. Passionately? Without a doubt. Fervently? Definitely. But you didn’t realize “reverently” and “frenzied” were adjectives that could be used together, and yet it was perfect.

You hadn’t realized you were doing it, but you were grinding against him, his slacks rubbing against the cotton of your shorts, eliciting moans from him that you’d never heard before, but felt like music to your ears as it sent a shiver down your spine. In response, his hands slid to your breasts, his thumb rubbing against your nipples through your thin T-shirt in gentle circles as the rest of his hands cupped your breasts.

“Someone didn’t wear a bra,” Hotch said almost cheekily.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting to get felt up tonight,” you laughed.

“I suppose not. You really are beautiful, you know that? And seeing you under me… I never thought you could get prettier, but apparently it’s possible.”

“Aaron…”

Hotch continued rubbing your nipples, gently, but with enough friction that it shot pleasure through you. “That’s right, sweetheart,” he whispered, “Aaron.”

“Do you mind doing me the honors of removing my shirt? Please?” You asked.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, kissing your forehead before he gently set about removing your shirt, shimmying it over your head before tossing it unceremoniously on the AC unit under the window.

You watched nervously as his eyes roved over your chest, almost feeling the burn of his gaze on your skin. But then he began leaning down and kissing a path from your collarbones, down to your belly button.

“Sweetheart, your breasts are magnificent,” he whispered before pressing kisses to each of them, “they’re just right for me.”

“Are you so easy to please?”

Hotch kissed your breasts again in answer, slower this time, as he nipped and sucked on the skin, leaving hickies in his wake. He chuckled to himself as he looked at his handiwork.

“I truly hope you weren’t planning on wearing a low cut shirt tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t, but I guess you eliminated that choice for me.”

He smiled, almost deviously, if you could believe he was capable of it. “You could, but I think you would have to answer some… piqued interests. But I also think… one part of you wants to show everyone, that you were marked, by me. And…” his voice lowered, “I can’t say I hate the idea of it.”

Before you could form a reply, he inched down towards your nipples and took one into his mouth, sucking on them gently. He wasn’t at all surprised when he felt your fingers thread into his hair, tugging at them the more he played with your nipple with his tongue.

Before he switched to the other nipple, he looked up at you, almost ironically puppy dog-like. “Are you enjoying this, my dove?”

“Yes,” you panted, “I’ve… I’ve never had this done to me before.”

He froze where he was. “None of your other partners did this for you?”

You shook your head.

“Amateurs,” Hotch muttered to himself before licking your nipple, wetting it.

Before long, he was back at it, sucking your other nipple, far less gentle than the way he had started, and his hand squeezing and kneading the first breast.

“Dear god-”

He completely unlatched from your breast to smirk at you. “I’m afraid God has nothing to say in this little foray.”

Impatiently, you reached up to unbutton his button up shirt feverishly, your fingers clumsily clashing into each other. Hotch chuckled at your excitement.

“You’re so cute when you’re eager,” he murmured to you, his own fingers reaching down to assist you in unbuttoning his shirt.

“Do you know how often I’ve wondered what you look like under here?” You asked as your eyes watched more and more of his chest expose.

“I’m not exactly… Derek in terms of body shape,” he confided. “And maybe at one point, I would have rivaled him. But I’m afraid my abs have… congealed a bit, especially since I became a dad.” He unbuttoned the last button.

“If you think that will deter me one bit, you have another thought coming, Mr. Hotchner,” you said sassily as you began pushing the shirt off of his shoulders. It was your turn to marvel at him and his body- his arms were toned, his chest had polite smatterings of hair and, much like Hotch in every other facet of his life, a happy trail that could only be described as neat and tidy. He was right that he wasn’t built like Derek, but in every line of him, you could tell he held incredible strength even for the average middle aged man, even if he had an adorable hint of tummy that you wanted to press kisses on. The scars from Foyet did not escape you, and you respectfully reached to trace them with your fingers, a ghost of pressure. To know that he endured that, and thrived in spite of it… you felt soft towards this stern looking man.

“You’re sure you still… want a piece of this?” He said almost awkwardly with a smile.

“If I wasn’t sure before, I know I am now,” you assured him as you kissed the underside of his jaw, “you’re beautiful.”

“I’m… beautiful?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me no one’s called you beautiful before?”

“Handsome, sure. Beautiful… no.”

“Well that’s just sad,” you pressed a kiss to one of his pecs, “because it’s the goddamn truth.”

You’d never seen him blush before, but you smirked with satisfaction when he turned red from his ears down to his neck.

“Are you ready to take this to the next level then?” Hotch asked, his hands moving down to the waistband of your shorts, playing with the drawstrings while he waited for your confirmation.

“Absolutely.”

With shaking hands, he began pulling down your shorts, tugging them down until he could discard them across the room, leaving you in your cotton underwear.

“You’re so wet already,” he said with a small smirk as his fingers touched the crotch of your underwear, hooking it to the side before ultimately deciding to just take it off entirely, as He quickly yanked it off and sling shot it.

“Those were my nice pair,” you mumbled, though you were thrilled at being completely exposed to him, feeling the crisp hotel air against you.

“I’ll buy you some more if they’re ruined,” he promised as he moved further down your body.

“You’re so perfect, you know that?” Hotch said as he began rubbing your clit. You squirmed but you couldn’t stop the moan that sprang from you.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he praised you, “the noises you make are almost provocative, sweetheart.”

“You’re too good,” you said breathlessly, the tightness in your stomach overwhelming you. Hotch chuckled as he kissed the side of your neck, careful not to leave a mark, knowing you’ll still have to ride on the jet home with the rest of the team tomorrow.

“I’m not sure if that speaks well of me or poorly of the guys you’ve been with before, sweetheart, we’re just getting started here,” he deflected slightly. He continued rubbing your clit, the circular motion sending jolts of what felt like electricity through your body.

Your hands instinctively reached to the side and gripped the sheets when he began sliding a finger in tentatively, his thumb on your sensitive nerves now, keeping the circular motion going. His eyes searched yours, those eyes slightly darkened by warm lust.

“Is this good?” Hotch asked.

“God, yes,” you bit out.

He hummed a noise of acknowledgment while he slid in a second finger, emitting a moan from you.

“You’re so tight, darling,” he murmured, “am I going to need to stretch you out a little before we get to the main event?”

“It’s been a while,” you admitted.

“How long?”

“Before I moved to Quantico.”

Hotch was quiet for a moment, surprise registering on his face. “Baby, that was… at least over a year ago.”

“I’m so busy with work that I hardly have time to meander into the dating scene. Haven’t really wanted to either.”

“Maybe we could talk to your boss about that,” he said teasingly.

You were about to respond when you felt his third finger slide in, and you took a deep breath.

“That’s my good girl,” he breathed into your ear, his voice low with desire, “taking me so well while I fill you up with my fingers, and taking those deep breaths.”

His fingers pumping in and out of you made you gasp and grasp the bed sheets even tighter between your fingers. You hadn’t, in a million years, thought you would be in a position where Aaron Hotchner was between your legs, pleasuring you with his fingers. Those fingers you had studied for months, fiddling with pens while he listened to others talk, and fantasized what they could do to you. Now you were feeling it, you were finally feeling what exactly those fingers will and can do to you- and the answer was “make you feel fucking amazing.”

The combination of his fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit was too wonderful to describe. You could write a sonnet and it still wouldn’t completely encapsulate how you felt.

“I think I’m ready,” you whispered.

“Are you sure, baby?” He murmured, “we don’t have to hurry. If it’s been awhile for you, then I think we should take our time. You deserve to be completely ready and comfortable.”

“I want to make you feel good too,” you said, glancing down at where you could feel his erection against your leg. Hotch blushed slightly.

“This isn’t about me, sweetheart. This is all about you. And you make me feel good when you feel good, making all those pretty sounds for me, knowing I’m the one who makes you feel like that, and that I’m the one with my fingers in your pretty pussy.”

You shivered again, but you bit your lip as you looked down at him.

“I still need to put my mouth on you, baby. Do you want that? To feel my lips on you while my tongue finds your swollen clit?”

“I… you don’t have to, I know some guys don’t-“

“Don’t tell me you think it’s an action of sacrifice on my part,” he scoffed with a smile, “like I said before, I want to make you feel good. I would be honored to eat you out, darling.”

Your cheeks were pink from the slightly crass words. “I didn’t even know you knew-“

“Just how old do you think I am?” Hotch rolled his eyes. He gently slid his fingers out of you and you barely stifled a groan as you felt the loss.

“So do I have your permission?” He asked, kissing your neck again.

“Yes sir.”

He smirked up at you as he bent his head towards your core. “You’re calling me sir now?”

“Terrible habit.”

Feeling Hotch’s lips on you was like nothing you’d ever felt before, but the moment his tongue began lapping at your clit, rolling it around and sucking on it, you don’t know where you went. Everything melted away, and all you felt was him.

Occasionally his eyes would flit up from his task and gauge your reaction, but every time, he knew you were more than satisfied. You grasped the bed-sheets tighter still, your head tilted back as a loud moan you didn’t realize you were making left your lips.

As his tongue searched relentlessly, hitting nerves you forgot you had, your legs jerked in response. Without even looking, his hand grasped your hips, stilling them firmly.

“Oh my god-“ you groaned.

Hotch moved away from you, his lips and chin covered in your juices, but a devious smile alighted on his face. “I take it that you liked it?”

You panted a few breaths. “A little.”

“Ah, yes, a little is what got your cum all over my face- imagine if it was a lot?” he chuckled as he moved himself up your body to kiss your lips, your juices meeting your tongue.

“Aaron, I…” you hesitated for a moment. He raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah?”

“I think… I think I want to do this again. When we get home in Quantico. And… I want to save the… you know, actual sex, for then. In one of our actual beds. Am… am I being too presumptuous?”

He kissed your forehead. “You would’ve been a fool if you thought I was going to risk it all for a one time thing, sweetheart. Of course I want this again, you’re not being presumptuous.”

Hotch moved to climb off of her, but you grabbed him by the belt loop with a hooked finger and a raised eyebrow, emboldened by your arousal.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You asked.

He chuckled. “As much as I loved eating you out, I can’t live with your juice on my face, dove. And… I figured you were signaling to me that we were done for the night, so I was going to clean you up.”

“We’re not done.”

“No?” He raised an eyebrow.

She glanced pointedly at his erection, tenting his slacks.

“Oh… darling, we don’t have to-”

“I know we don’t. I want to.”

Hotch leaned back on his knees. “Darling, I-“

“I hate having to keep interrupting you, sir, but perhaps losing the slacks will help us to continue this conversation.”

He reached down for his belt buckle with a laugh. “Bossy, aren’t we?”

Within a few seconds, he had unbuckled and his slacks beside the bed. Through his boxers, the outline of his dick was prominent, and you felt your mouth salivate at the sight of it.

“You did this to me, baby,” Hotch said softly.

You blushed, still looking at him, but your hands reached for the waistband of his boxers, and inched them lower.

“Damn, sweetie, do you have a permit to conceal this large of a weapon?” you drawled as you stared eagerly at his dick, the pre-cum gathering at the tip of it as it stood tall.

He chuckled, his cheeks turning pink. “This one and a few others.”

“How do you want us to do this?”

Hotch hummed. “On your knees on the floor, sweetheart. Do you need a pillow?”

You clambered off the bed and got on your knees, waiting for him to follow suit.

He stood in front of you, almost hesitant, but the moment you gingerly grasped his dick, something in his eyes snapped into action, and his hands grasped your hair, tugging at the roots slightly.

You licked him from balls to tip, and under your touch, you could feel him shudder.

Experimentally, you swirled your tongue around the tip, then eased it into your mouth until you felt him hit your cheek

“Fuck-” Hotch rasped, his grip in your hair getting tighter, “you’re teasing me, doll.”

You looked up at him with arched eyebrows, deviousness reflecting in the glint of your eyes.

“You’re such a sweetheart, you know that? All those times we were on cases and you’d do those cute little mannerisms of yours. You’d tap your finger to your chin, or you’d part your lips when you would lift your head to look at something. Or when you would drink your coffee and widen your eyes at me over your mug. You’re just- fuck.”

Of course, that sudden expletive was because you’d mischievously pulled a bait and switch and taken him all the way to the back of your throat, opening up wider for him.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he cursed, “sweetie, you’re marvelous, I- shit.”

You looked innocently up at him, although the slight shift in movement almost made you choke.

“That will teach you, you cheeky- oh god, I don’t know how much longer I can keep…”

Ropes of cum spilled down your throat, and somehow you swallowed it all, though it took a lot of effort to do so. After it dissipated, you pulled away from him, just sitting back on your knees and looking up at the beautiful man before you, his hands in your hair. To the eye that didn’t know anything about him, he was just an average middle aged man, but to hers, before her stood a man who had been through so much, and loved and cared despite the risks involved, and whose strength was unmatched.

Hotch gently pulled you to the bed and laid you down. “I’m going to be right back, sweet thing,” he said as he kissed your forehead before going to the bathroom to retrieve wet wash rags.

Thirty minutes later found you on his chest, skin to skin, and his arms around you gently.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” You asked.

“Probably, but what?” He replied before kissing the crown of your hair.

“When you said you noticed all of the cute little mannerisms I apparently do.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating his chest under you. “Absolutely I do. I’ve noticed from the beginning, when you applied for this job and came in for an interview. You kept touching your neck when you were nervous or felt vulnerable.”

Your eyebrows collided. “You were still in the process of divorcing Haley at that time.”

“I can’t say I immediately fell in love with you at first sight,” he admitted, “but I can say I felt like I met someone I thought would be nice to have around.”

“When… did you realize you liked me in a… in a different way?”

Hotch stroked your back. “When you remembered Jack’s birthday and sent home a little present by me to him.”

“God… Hotch-“

“We just went through all of this for you to call me Hotch? Really?” He smiled cheekily.

“It’s a habit! Anyways, you… you’ve known for that long? And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to cross any lines that I shouldn’t have,” he said simply.

“We’re going to have to figure out how to deal with the fallout from here, you realize that, right? And Strauss.”

“God, I didn’t think I’d hear Strauss brought up post coitus,” Hotch groaned. You laughed heartily.

“Let’s just… keep it between us. Just for now.”

“For now,” he agreed. You snuggled into his chest, and fell asleep like that.

Of course, you forgot that he left a mark on your collarbone when you had to untangle your limbs from him the next morning to pack up and get on the jet and go home. You couldn’t use the curling iron excuse, not that far down. And it was simply too hot for a turtleneck. So, before you boarded the jet, you made up your mind to gaslight everyone. And you meant everyone.

“Am I crazy or is that a hickey?” Derek pointed out when you sat across from him at the four seater, closest to the window. Hotch lifted a brow and widened his eyes at you from where he was sitting, conveniently facing you at the two seater behind Derek.

“God, Derek, don’t you know anything? This is a birthmark.”

“A… a birthmark?” Derek sounded bewildered. “Girl, I’ve known you for almost over a year now. You didn’t have a birthmark.”

“You didn’t notice? I’m almost hurt, Derek Walter Morgan.”

“That is not my real middle name, you know that, right?” Derek leaned back in his chair. “Where could you have possibly gotten any lovin’ from, hm? I know it wasn’t boss man.”

“You know, Derek is right. I don’t remember you having a birthmark,” Spencer jumped in from where he was perched on the couch across from you guys.

“Oh c’mon, Reid, like you’re the most observant person in the room!” You said with a smile.

“I know an iron burn when I see one and… sorry, but that’s not it,” Emily quipped.

“It’s just a birthmark- have you guys considered concealer exists? What’s next, you guys believe Emily naturally has berry red lips too? Gullible.”

“So… why did you leave it off today?” Rossi asked, obviously suspicious.

“I woke up late. Didn’t have time to do my makeup routine.”

This begrudgingly seemed to suffice most of the team, but Rossi was no fool, and he noticed Hotch’s t-shirt under your flannel, and winked at Hotch, who only rolled his eyes, then glanced at you, a vulnerable smitten woman among profilers.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #smut

[rileyslibrary]

Reader has a new haircut and HATES it. Can we get a little comfort from Ghost?

———————————————————————

Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks as you look into the bathroom mirror. You run your hand through your hair, trying to fix the mess, then tuck a strand behind your ear.

“Why did you do this?” You murmur to yourself, “Why?”

You were feeling adventurous; that’s why. You wanted to “shake things up a little bit,” as you explained to your hairstylist. You showed him a picture for reference, ignoring his warning that the person in the photo was wearing a wig. So he did as he was told: he cut and styled your hair, just like that picture, and it looked beautiful. However, everything vanished as soon as you showered this morning.

You take a closer look and exhale through pursed lips. As you try to tame the strands in front of your face, a a biblical tale comes to mind. The story of Samson, a man who derived his mighty strength from his hair, and Delilah, who ordered someone to cut it while he was sleeping, stripping him of his power. You were both Samson and Delilah in your own tragic way.

You close your eyes and prepare to face the world outside the bathroom: your teammates, your superiors, him.

With your head lowered, you walk towards your office, barely acknowledging those around you. Usually, you would smile and greet people passing by, but today is different. Today, you avoid eye contact, try to take as little space as as possible so you go undetected, and when someone acknowledges your presence, you mutter a barely audible “good morning.” The only time you lift your head is when you have to salute a superior, and even then, you can’t wait to be dismissed so you can go back to counting the tiles on the corridor’s floor again.

You open the door to your office and find Ghost sitting at the top of his desk, cleaning his gun. He turns his head towards the door, greets you, and then shifts his attention back to his rifle. He stays still for a moment and turns to look at you again.

“Did you—”

“Yes.”

“Nice hairc—”

“Fuck off, Ghost.”

He furrows his eyebrows and cocks his head. His gaze follows you as you walk behind your desk, sit in your chair, and open your laptop. You feel his eyes piercing through you, and you bring your hand to your forehead, attempting to cover your face while you type in your password with the other hand.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Nothing,” you reply with a sigh, “it’s nothing; I’m sorry.”

He hops off his desk and slowly walks to yours. He stands beside you, towering above you, invading your private space.

“Ghost, please go back to your desk,” you whisper.

But he doesn’t listen. He gently pushes the papers on your desk aside and sits down.

“Hey.” He calls out, tapping the desk twice with his finger. You refuse to look at him and peek at his thighs instead.

“Is this how we’re going to be today?” He asks in a soft voice.

“Leave me alone, Simon.”

He reaches out and tickles your neck with his index finger. You shrug your shoulders and grasp his hand to stop him, but he seizes the opportunity, pinches your chin with his free hand, and redirects your face towards his.

“Look at me,” he orders.

You slowly lift your gaze to meet his. He looks at you with eyes full of understanding and compassion. He slowly tilts his head and rubs your chin with his thumb.

“This office isn’t big enough for two grumpy fuckers,” he jokes, “I need you to balance me out.”

He brings his hand to the side of your face, and you press your cheek against his palm.

“I’m human,” you reply, “I get grumpy as well.”

“Of course you do,” he reassures you. “Now, mind telling me what’s going on inside that head of yours?”

“Wanna take a wild guess, Lt.?” you ask and give him a side-eye.

“Is it something that has to do with the top of your head rather than the inside?” He ponders.

“Of course, it does, you asshole!” You cry and slap his hand away. “You, too, noticed how bad it looks!”

“I never said it looked bad!” He clarifies and throws his hands up. “You came in here with a new haircut and a frown; you don’t need a degree in applied mathematics to put one and one together!”

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” you reply, crossing your arms. “What matters is that I can’t stand my reflection in the mirror.”

He huffs and removes his mask, revealing his scarred face and messy hair. Though you have seen him many times without it before, it always surprises you when he grants you access behind his facade.

“Wanna talk about bad hair?” he says, pointing to the top of his head. “I have a permanent cow lick because of this mask, for fuck’s sake.”

You chuckle. “Well, it’s your choice to wear it, Lt.”

“And it was your choice to cut yours.”

“And I deeply regret it,” you whisper, lowering your head to your lap.

He shrugs. “It’s good to have regrets, grumpy; It means you’re learning, so you can make better decisions later.”

“Yes, but what about now, Ghost? How am I going to walk around like this?” You ask and tousle your hair.

He smiles and motions for you to stand up. As you comply, he grabs your wrist and pulls you onto his lap. He wraps one arm behind your waist, the other resting on your thighs.

“I have plenty of those if you want one.” He jokes and gestures towards his mask.

“I don’t want your kitschy mask, Lt.” You chuckle and slap his chest. “I want my hair back.”

“They’ll grow back,” he comforts you, “but in the meantime, we just have to play with the cards we’ve been dealt with, yeah?”

You rest your head on his shoulder and bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent.

“I guess so,” you whisper.

“You’ll get used to it, love,” he murmurs, rubbing your back. “All changes take some time to get used to.”

“That or I might decide to shave them completely.” You joke.

He laughs and kisses your forehead.

“Do whatever you want to your hair—cut it, dye it, shave it—I don’t fucking care,” he says as he strokes the back of your head. “But this?” He points his index finger to your heart, “Never change this.”

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #call of duty #simon ghost riley #modern warfare 2 #simon riley #cod mwii #ghost cod #ghost cod mwii #ghost cod mw2 #cod ghost #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic

[leonw4nter]

Hold Me, Hold Me, I'm Your Bunny

RE2R!Leon x F!Reader AU

“It’s cold, rookie. Go put on a jacket,” Marvin tells Leon.

His superior isn’t wrong; the night had turned out to be a bit more chilly than Leon had anticipated, which prompted him not to bring a jacket or coat– not that this bothered him; he didn’t get cold easily and acted as a walking heater to anyone who wanted to feel a little warm and fuzzy.

“I’m fine, sir. Thank you,” he responds with a tired smile.

Ever the gentleman that he is, a gloved hand flies up to cover his mouth as he yawns, a small puff of steam billowing out of his mouth. As much as he loves his job, there’s no place he’d rather be than at home with his girl, cuddling and joining the rest of the world in dreamland but alas here he is– duty calls. Calloused fingers threaded through strands the color of wheat, slightly causing his usually neat hair to appear slightly fluffy. He turns his head, summer sky blues trained in the vast darkness to look out for any threat that he could quell. He does this for about an hour or two– or four… or five. He lost count, distracted by the biting cold that slowly started to settle in his bones. Pink settled in Leon’s cheeks and the tips of his ears, adding color like watercolor to a blank canvas; goosebumps rose on his arms and on the back of his neck, jaw clenching to keep his teeth from chattering. He did his best to look as if the cold wasn’t causing him some discomfort, only rubbing his hands together for warmth every now and then. 2:45 AM, his black sports watch reads. “She’s probably asleep by now,” he fondly thinks as the corners of his lips curl skyward. “At least she’s warm and cozy,” he wistfully adds, the feeling of his body craving sleep growing even stronger with each passing moment.

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7:35 AM, he finally gets to head home after a long and cold night; he feels odd, a lot more susceptible to getting cold. The patrol car’s air conditioning felt several degrees colder, even if neither he nor Marvin changed the temperature and he felt a lot tired. After shifts like that, he always felt tired but this kind of exhaustion is different; it’s like his body weighed a lot more and he felt a headache slowly crawl up on him. He blamed these odd sensations on not drinking enough water, gaze falling on the thermos his girlfriend bought him as a reminder to hydrate often. He takes the bottle and drinks from it, dampening his dry throat only for his throat to feel a lot weirder and the water making him feel slightly nauseous. Marvin picks up on Leon’s sudden paleness, a frown placed on his chapped lips.

“Rookie, you alright? You don’t look like your usual self right now,” Marvin observes. Stopping at a red light he takes the opportunity to look at Leon, the rookie leaning against the corner near the door and shivering, rubbing his hands together to  try and stay warm.

“Yeah. Just… a little cold… and tired,” Leon responds, flashing him a tiny smile, an attempt to downplay what he thinks is a fever going on. Regret on not bringing a coat or jacket sets in, knowing his error will cause his girl to worry for him on top of all the workload she already has.

“You sure, kid? You don’t look too good right now,” Marvin adds.

“Promise, L.T. It’s just been a long night,” Leon reassures.

They finally arrive at the station, Leon’s head spinning slightly since he got carsick from the overwhelming sensations in the car ride back to the precinct to gather his things before clocking out only to groan when he realizes he has to use a car to get back home as well. Grabbing his backpack, he waves the officers bye and heads out. Even with the sun’s rays not fully beaming down on the slowly waking world, he squints his eyes and closes them for a bit, finding it too bright. With a tired sigh and a silent prayer that he doesn’t collapse from exhaustion on the way home, he walks over to the side of the road and waits for a cab to come and pick him up whilst also fighting the urge to hunch over at the sidewalk and hurl.

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He finally reaches home, resisting the urge to doze off on the floor within minutes of unlocking the front door. With a groan, he hobbles over to the medicine cabinet and takes some Advil before heading up the stairs. He forces himself to take a quick shower to cool himself off before grabbing some plaid pajama bottoms and a worn out gray sweater from the police academy. He draws the curtains, slides into bed and huddles under the sheets before turning his body to face your side of the bed, inching his face nearer to your pillow and inhaling the scent of your coconut shampoo. Just before he decides to take a nap, he takes his phone and sends you a message saying that he’s home. Even with the curtains already drawn he still finds the day too bright for his delicate eyes so he pulls the duvet over his head, closing his eyes and eventually falling asleep.

You get home to a dark and silent apartment, the lack of Leon anywhere throwing you off. Closing the door, you drop your bag off at the couch before heading upstairs to the bedroom. “Honey?,” You call out. At first you don’t get a response but you do hear a low groan coming from the bedroom. You finally reach the door and push it open to be met with the faint warm glow of your bedside lamp and your boyfriend huddled nicely in the sheets. He shoots you a small grin but you know something is up with him with the way he doesn’t get up and practically lunge at you for a hug.

“Sick,” he quietly says, readjusting his position again and pats your spot beside him. You walk over to the side of the bed and place the back of your hand against his forehead to feel for his temperature. You leave his side for a few minutes, only to come back with a thermometer. After double checking his temperature, you finally confirm that he has a fever. “How’d you get sick?,” you ask him as you pat his fluffy hair. “Stood out in the cold from 10 PM to 7 AM, no jacket,” he sheepishly says. His response earns a small frown from you, going off into a lecture about how he should’ve brought something to keep him warm because the temperatures are a lot more extreme these days to which he nodded and mumbled an “mhm”. You place a small kiss on his forehead, telling him that you’ll make dinner for the both of you before getting in bed to cuddle with him. He nods and smiles, probably the brightest smile he could muster for today before turning over and dozing off again.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Dinner’s ready,” you softly say in a sing-song voice as you bring in rice porridge on a tray, along with a bowl of cut-up fruit, and a glass of water. You set the tray down before helping Leon sit up, propping the pillows up on his back so he’d be cozy. You drag a chair beside him, waiting for him to take the bowl and start eating but he doesn’t.

“Why aren’t you eating yet?,” you ask.

“Can you feed me? Please?,” he asks as he shoots you the most kicked puppy dog eyes ever. He takes his hands together in prayer position, mumbling please and saying something along the lines of letting the patient have complete rest.

“God, you’re so cringe,” you scoff but you still decide to grab the bowl and give him spoons full of the porridge. Your boyfriend can be a bit silly sometimes but it’s why you love him. He takes a large bite, a pleased hum coming from him as he swallows down the food. “Taste good?,” you ask which he responds to with a smile and a thumbs-up. While Leon’s still got some porridge in his mouth, you take the time to contact his superior about Leon’s sick leave for two to three days.

“Umm, hi. I’m Y/N, Leon’s girlfriend and I called because he’s going to be on sick leave for two to three days, he came down with a fever so I hope you’d understand,” you say to the phone.

Leon simply looks at you with a slight look of surprise in his eyes; he already mentally noted that he’d call up Marvin later on after his dinner but turns out his thoughtful girlfriend had beat him to it. Looking up from his bowl, he keeps his gaze on you as you converse with Marvin, his heart thumping in his chest whenever you smile. The call went on for a few minutes before it finally ended, walking back to Leon’s side only to see his bowl finished.

“Your boss sounded a little surprised to hear that you’ve got a girlfriend,” you shyly say with a giddy grin. Leon laughs softly, running his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, I don’t talk about you a lot at work– not- not because I don’t love you or a-anything, no– it’s, well, you know–,” he stammers which causes you to smile sweetly with your eyes squinting slightly and he swears he just fell in love all over again.

“I don’t have um– l-lots of y’know– friends at the station– there’s only Marvin,” he finally finishes. He realizes he sounds a lot like his pre-girlfriend self from when he first decided to ask you out on a date, back when eye contact with you and a simple graze of your fingers got his system undergoing a factory reset (not that things have changed: he’s still having factory resets from when you touch him).

“Well, I should stop by at work when you get back and I dunno– maybe get you lunch and kiss you in front of everyone,” you joke as you take his hand and place a kiss.

“God I need to get well soon,” he responds. He looks a lot less miserable now but still very much feverish.

“Hey I meant that as a joke–,” you say.

“Nuh-uh,” he says as he waves his pointer finger in front of you. “You need to keep your word or else I’ll be sad.”

“Fine, fine but only because I love you,”

“I love you more.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Soon, it’s time for bed and you get into the sheets with him, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling your face into the nook of his neck.

“Baby you’re going to get sick too if you’re too close to me,” he softly says as he pats your hair.

“That’s not so bad if you get to take care of me,” you softly respond with a smile before placing a tender kiss on his neck. He shifts his position so now he’s the smaller spoon and you get to hold him like a stuffed animal. A pleased sigh could be heard under his breath as one hand strokes his back and gives him a soft pat while the other strokes his hair. “It’s not so bad being sick,” he happily thinks to himself– not that you don’t take care of him, of course you do, but the experience of being taken care of when he’s unable to care for himself brings a comfortable feeling of assurance that you’ll be right by him when things get rough; you’ll be there for him as a ray of sunlight on a cloudy day, an umbrella underneath the pouring rain, and a warm drink on a chilly night.

With your care and constant reminder to take pills and drink water, he managed to get better after two days and is clear to get back to work (bringing along a coat with him, of course; you’d flip if he got sick due to being out in the cold again). The brightness of his eyes have returned and he’s back to being the golden retriever, greeting everyone a ‘good morning’ before settling his things down at his desk and working on papers that piled up while he was gone. Stretching his fingers and grabbing a pen from a cup in his desk he takes a sheet and starts signing and going through reports whilst sipping his coffee, very much in a good mood. Marvin decided to let him work on reports first and not start patrolling around since he just got back from a fever and deemed it best that he shouldn’t move around just yet. After working for several hours straight he finally finishes his workload, just needing to file these reports away– the only task left before Marvin hands him a new set. Stretching his lower back and rolling his shoulders, he grabs his coat and wallet to head out and grab lunch.

“Officer Kennedy please report to the front desk,” the intercom blares. With a slightly frustrated sigh, he mentally prepares himself that he might have to skip out on lunch as he heads to where he’s needed.

“Good noon, ma’am– Baby!” he happily exclaims. His entire face brightens up and he beams brightly, running over to you and pulling you in for a tight hug as he rocks you from side to side. After a bone-crushing hug, he pulls away but he keeps his hands on your waist.

“It’s so good to see you. What are you doing here?,” he asks. His blue eyes were like waters, his gaze pulling you under and deeper into the spell he cast on you.

“Lunch. Kept my promise from days ago just like you wanted.”

“So… I’ll finally get that kiss in front of others?”

“Maybe. If you want–”

“I do want it so… come here.” Leon says with a cocky smirk as he pulls you in for a tender kiss.

NOTE - If this is a little bad then I'm really sorry because this fic has been marinating in my docs for 2 weeks now and I kinda lost the idea mid-write so... yeah (I also finished this fic during math class because the question I got for an activity is so damn DIFFICULT-- KILLING MYSELF I HATE MATH I HATE THIS SHIT SO BAD FUCK MATH). Anyways, I'll try to write for RE4R!Leon soon-- I just love RE2R!Leon a lil tew much hihi ;) The title is taken from a lyric in a song called "Puppy Princess". I'll be busy in the next coming weeks so I won't be posting a lot. I'm going to try and make my fics look a lot more cute soon so ermm yeah that's it!! I hope you really liked it :) (also I ordered Leon photocards saur... the horrors are endless but I stay silly)

The dividers (lace and ribbon respectively) are from @plutism and @baefleurs , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#leon kennedy #resident evil #fluff #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #re2 #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil 2 #re2r #re2 remake

[iovetecchou]

Circumstances ⧸ Aki Hayakawa.𖥔 ݁ ˖

summary:  Trapped inside the hotel that has been taken over by the eternity devil, your superior: Hayakawa Aki, is the only comfort you've found. As the days go by, you find yourself seeking more than just comfort from your usually stoic leader.

༞ Contains...! smut, porn with a slight plot, and a sprinkle of fluff, only one bed trope, virgin!aki, inexperienced!aki, touch starved!aki, consent, dry humping, handjob, pussyjob, no penetrative sex, pillow talk, confessions, overall very soft and clumsy, the reader lovingly teases aki throughout the entirety of this fic

༞ AFAB Reader.

༞ 3,064 words.

kinktober masterlist!

It had been days.

Days; since you first stepped foot inside this forsaken hotel with your unit. Your Captain, Aki, was the only individual keeping your crew from losing their minds. Although, Kobeni was way beyond saving at this point.

You tried to stay optimistic, putting your trust in your Captain. You had no reason to doubt him, anyway. You admired Aki. If he asked you to follow him blindly, you would.

Aki always made you feel safe; it would be a lie if you said you had not fallen for him.

You admired every version of Aki, but your favorite side of him was the one only you got to see. The Aki who helped you get stronger, never giving up on you even when you stumbled and screwed up. The Aki who would go out after a harsh mission and eat almond tofu with you. The Aki that allowed himself to smile when he was in your presence, letting himself forget about his trepidations. Even if it was briefly before you witnessed the sorrow creep back into his cerulean eyes.

You could not help but feel as though Aki might have a soft spot for you. He always requested to be stationed with you on assignments and spoke highly of you to Miss Makima when you did exemplary work.

So when you got paired up to share a room with the captain himself, you could hardly contain your excitement.

Arai and Kobeni were in shambles, so Power locked them in a room together. She laughed menacingly on the outside from the sounds of them wailing and shrieking. Power and Denji took the next room, unintentionally pairing themselves up. You could hear them bickering through the thin walls before it got quiet. Ultimately, assuming that Denji must have fallen asleep.

And then there was Aki and yourself.

You would be lying if you said the prospect of sleeping in the same bed as your crush didn’t excite you, just a little bit. You knew it was wrong, considering the situation was less than ideal. You secretly wished your first time sharing a bed with Aki would be under better circumstances, but there’s no time like the present.

You could’ve sworn you saw Aki's cheeks flush when he noticed there was only one bed before he blurted out,

“I’ll take the floor. You take the bed.“

A frown etched its way into your visage, coming up with a solution to change his mind on the spot.

“But, Mister Hayakawa, I think it would be safest if we stuck together and stayed as close as possible. Who knows what the eternity devil might do next? It might try to separate us, so we must have eyes on one another at all times. That’s why we all paired up in the first place, right?”

You watched as he lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply and holding it in his lungs for a few beats before ultimately exhaling with a sigh. You could tell he was thinking over your proposition from the way his eyebrows knit together.

“Alright, you have a point. But only if you are comfortable with that.”

Your eyes lit up as he agreed to your proposal. You turned on your heel, making your way toward the messily made bed. Trying to conceal your grin from Aki.

“Of course I’m comfortable! You always make me feel safe, Mister Hayakawa.”

Aki's cheeks dusted a pretty pink from your words. With your back still turned, you kicked your shoes off. Shrugging off your blazer before rolling up the sleeves of your white button-down. He took another drag of his cigarette, making slow strides toward the bed. Aki propped his sword against the nightstand before unbuttoning his suit jacket. Trying his hardest not to overthink resting beside you.

“I will only need a few hours until I am back on patrol, but I want you to get as much rest as possible. I will try my best not to wake you when I leave.”

All you could do was nod in agreement as you lifted the covers, making yourself as cozy as you could; regarding the circumstances.

You turned on your side from beneath the sheets, observing Aki as he put his cigarette out. He slipped his shoes off, lifting his side of the duvet before crawling underneath. He was as stiff as a board as he rested flat against the bed. You could tell he was nervous, and you were not sure if it was because of the proximity or because of the devil, which was still at large.

“Mister Hayakawa, are you okay? You look a bit tense.”

Aki let out a deep sigh. He turned his head slightly so that he could glance at you before he spoke softly.

“It’s just… I want to make sure we all get out of here alive without having to sacrifice anyone. Defeating this devil, getting the gun devil chunk, and making sure you get out of here unharmed, are my top priorities.”

You felt your cheeks heat up from his words. To learn that Aki prioritized your well-being in such a way made your heart flutter.

“Don’t worry mister Hayakawa! With you being our captain, I have no doubts that we will succeed in all of those departments. Also, don’t feel like you need to bear the burden on your own. You can lean on me, I promise.”

Your words forced Aki’s chest to tighten. You put so much faith into him, and knowing that you believed in him to such an extent eased his mind. For the time being.

Aki took in a deep breath before sitting up swiftly. He reached over toward the lamp resting atop the night table, tugging on the copper string. Enveloping you both in complete darkness.

“Thank you… Now get some rest. I’m sure we have a long day ahead of us,”

Aki whispered, turning on his side to face you. A tight-lipped smile pulled at his lips before he finished his thought.

“And one more thing, you don’t need to call me Mister Hayakawa while we’re on the job. You can always call me Aki. You know that, right?”

You watched as he tucked a hand under his pillow for support, adjusting slightly to let himself slump further into the bed. A small giggle slipped past your lips from his words before you retorted,

“Of course, I know that! I just figured you liked it when I addressed you as Mister Hayakawa. I mean, considering how your ears turn a pretty shade of pink when I do.”

You teased. Inching yourself closer to your superior from where you lay atop the mattress. Practically sharing the same air at this point.

“Hey, cut that out.”

Was all Aki could blurt out before he turned his back toward you. He silently thanked the darkness for shrouding the room, concealing the rosiness that painted his face.

That didn’t stop you from shifting impossibly closer. You pressed your chest against the expanse of Aki's back, closing the distance between you two before letting your arm sling around his hip.

“I’m sorry, Mister Hayakawa… I didn’t mean to tease.”

Your voice laced with faux innocence. But Aki could hardly focus on the words you spoke only moments ago. The feeling of your arm wrapped around his midsection and your chest pressing into him had his brain short-circuiting.

Physical affection was not something Aki was used to by any means, and the fact that you were the one touching him made his head spin even further. Aki felt comfortable with you. He cherished the time you spent together, more than he let on.

“Yes, you did. Do you take me for one of those idiots over in the next room?”

Aki huffed, trying his hardest not to twitch when your fingertips trailed over his clothed abdomen. You scooted up the bed slightly; so you could rest your head atop Aki’s shoulder. Lips ghosting over the shell of his rosy ear before you whispered out,

“Of course not, Mister Hayakawa. You are clever, way better than the others. In every aspect.”

Your hand trailed lower, fumbling with the clasp of his belt. You heard Aki’s breath hitch as you pulled the leather out of the buckle.

“What are you—“

“Like I said earlier, you seem a bit tense. Let me help you, Mister Hayakawa.”

His heart was pounding against his sternum. Aki could feel his hands shaking as he remained silent. You could tell he was way beyond nervous.

“I’m sorry. I’ll stop if you are uncomfortable.”

You whispered, slowly retracting your hands from around his waist. What you didn’t expect was for Aki to turn in his place, coming face to face with you once more.

“No it’s not that… i-it’s just…”

You could barely make out his expression in the darkness, but you could feel his hand trembling beside you. Your hand crept down to grasp his arm, placing his large palm atop your waist.

“Why are you shaking so much, Mister Hayakawa? It’s just us.”

The way that nickname rolled off your tongue made his head fuzzy. He could feel the warmth of your skin seeping through your shirt.

“Is this what you want?”

Aki took a shaky breath, trying to collect his thoughts.

“I…”

His voice was quivering as you two shared the same air. Another moment passed before you whispered,

“Do you want me to stop, Aki?”

His breath hitched. You said his name, finally. Aki’s heart was beating a mile a minute as you slowly started to pull away.

“N-No… don’t stop.”

That was all the conformation you needed. You could hardly contain your excitement as you pressed your chest flush against his in one swift motion. You hoisted your leg around his waist, pulling a low grunt from Aki.

Now you understood the reason behind Aki’s trembling; he was hard. You could feel his erection pressing up against your clothed core from the new position.

“Ah… I’m sorry—“

Before Aki could finish his sentence, your lips were on his. His cerulean eyes were blown wide at the sudden kiss, but he wasn’t complaining.

Aki thought about this moment countless times your lips colliding with his. But never in a million years did Aki think your first kiss together would be under these circumstances.

You deepened the kiss further, swiping your tongue across his bottom lip. At first, Aki didn’t get the hint, but when your pelvis ground down against his aching cock, he couldn’t help but let out a whine.

The moment his lips parted against yours, you slipped your tongue past. Tangling with his appendage slowly, letting him get used to the newfound intimacy. Aki was still shaking, you noted, as your hand came up to unbuckle his belt; for good this time.

Aki only pulled away from your lips when he felt you unzip his pants, tugging on the waistband of his boxers.

“W-Wait… I’ve never…”

Aki could feel the perspiration trickling down the side of his neck as he swallowed the lump in his throat, adams apple bobbing in the process.

“I know, and it’s okay. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it, Aki. I want to make you feel good, and I promise I’ll go slow.”

You muttered against his lips, slipping your hand through the hole in his boxers. Aki gasped against your lips as you seized his needy cock. Gently pulling his length through the cut-out of his underwear.

“Is this okay?”

You asked, halting in your movements. You placed a small kiss on Aki's nose as you awaited his response, being as patient as ever with him. Aki nodded fervently before whispering,

“Yes… more— please…”

Aki’s plea sent heat rushing to your core. He was too precious, and who were you to deny him?”

Your hand slowly began rubbing his leaky cock. There was so much pre-cum coating the head of his dick; making it even easier to glide your palm along his twitching length.

“Does this feel good?”

You picked up the pace ever so slightly, letting your thumb circle around his ruddy tip.

“Fuck— yes, so… so good…”

Aki’s head fell forward, now resting his forehead against yours as you continued to stroke his cock.

“Better than when you do this to yourself?”

You asked earnestly, reveling in the little whines and whimpers that slipped past his lips.

“Mhm…”

That was all Aki could muster out. He was too drunk off the pleasure you granted him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good. Your hands worked him so carefully— so tenderly. For the first time in a long time; Aki allowed himself to forget his worries. He allowed himself to succumb to you entirely.

You could feel him throbbing in your hand. You knew he was nearing his end. Aki’s perspired forehead stuck to your own, his breath was warm against your lips. You couldn’t help but clench around nothing at his silent pleas of,

“Please, don’t stop… feels s-so— good…”

Quickly, you removed your hand from around his length. Your leg unhooked from around his waist for a brief moment as you fumbled with your belt. Swiftly pushing your pants and panties down your legs before kicking them off from underneath the covers.

“What are you—“

“Shh… don’t worry, I’m not stopping. I want to try something different, just trust me on this… okay?”

Your hand came back up to Aki’s waist. Slowly, you pushed his trousers and boxers down his thighs, letting his cock spring free. His length slapped against his tummy. Aki hissed at the friction, harshly swallowing once more as your leg came back up to wrap around his waist.

“O-Okay... I trust you, Y/N.”

With that, your chest came flush against his once more. Only this time, your slick pussy grazed along the underside of his throbbing length.

“S-Shit…”

Aki cursed, suddenly feeling overwhelmed; at the feeling of your essence coating his cock. You were so warm and wet. He could hardly contain his moans as you began grinding against him. You moved your hips slowly at first, rubbing the most sensitive parts of his length with your drooling slit.

“Does this feel good?”

You huffed. You began to feel dizzy from the intimacy Aki and yourself shared. You whined as your clit rubbed against him so perfectly. Your slick allowing you to glide against him with ease.

“T-Too good!”

Aki cried out. His hand around your waist tightened as he began aiding you in your movements. Thrusting you impossibly closer to him. Adding even more pressure against your puffy bud. You both moaned in unison. Grinding against each other with more intensity than before.

“I think… I’m…”

Aki could hardly finish his train of thought. Too wound up in the heat of the moment. You soothed your hand over the small of his back, continuing to hump into Aki before you whispered,

"I know, baby, let it all out."

Your tender words sent Aki spiraling. His release crashed down on him faster than he could process. Before you knew it, Aki was the one kissing you. He whimpered against your lips as his first ropes of cum shot out past his slit.

The feeling of his cock twitching and throbbing against your clit was enough for the coil within your tummy to snap. You gasped against his lips as you came. Your movements staggered, still trying to work Aki and yourself through your orgasms.

A few moments passed before Aki finally pulled away from your lips. He took in a deep breath as his hand clenched and unclenched around your waist. You assumed it was a form of self-soothing for Aki.

"Are you okay?"

You asked softly. You trailed your hand up Aki's frame, slotting to cup his face instead.

"Mhm… are you? Did you… enjoy that?"

Aki's words were hesitant. You could tell he was immensely unsure of what this now meant for the both of you.

"Of course I enjoyed it, Aki. I've been dreaming of a moment like this with you for ages now. I just… I'm sorry, I wanted to properly do things with you. But our lives are so complicated,"

You paused, caressing his cheek with your thumb softly before letting out a deep sigh.

"Aki… I truly adore you, I always have. So, now you know. I figured since there's a high possibility of us dying here, I might as well lay it all out on the table. I mean, we did just hump each other like a couple of dogs—"

"Ah, stop right there."

Aki's eyebrows scrunched up at your crude words. He felt embarrassed all over again.

You could not help the giggle that slipped past your lips. Aki was too adorable for his own good. He was such a gentleman, another thing to tack onto the list of 'things you love about Aki'.

"Sorry, sorry! I wish it wasn't so dark in here, I bet the look on your face was priceless."

You teased, bringing your hand back down to encompass Aki's waist before nestling your face into his chest. Your leg was still wrapped around his hips, pulling a small grunt from Aki when you closed the distance between you both for the last time tonight.

"Hey, at least let me get you a towel so I can clean you up. It's a… mess, down there— because of me."

You smiled against his chest before a yawn passed over you. You slipped your hand under his shirt, smoothing over the small of his back before you whispered,

"Aki, relax! It's okay… let's get a little bit of rest before it's back to patrolling. I wanna hold you like this, just a little while longer… Please?"

His heart ached at your words. Aki would give anything to stay in this moment with you forever. His hand tightened around your waist, keeping you snug against him before ultimately letting out a sigh.

It only took you a few moments to knock out. Aki smiled to himself as your little snores filled the room. He tried not to mind the sticky sensation coming from below as he placed a kiss atop your head. Finally, he allowed his droopy eyelids to close before whispering,

"You could be such a brat at times… you know that, right? But, that's just another thing I… love about you."

#aki hayakawa #hayakawa aki #aki smut #aki hayakawa smut #hayakawa aki smut #csm smut #chainsaw man smut #chainsaw man #csm #aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #aki x reader #aki x you #aki x y/n #aki hayakawa x you #aki hayakawa x female reader #aki hayakawa x y/n #iovetecchou's kinktober masterlist #csm x reader #csm x fem reader #chainsaw man x reader

[b1rds3ye]

hi!!! i LOVE the masked reader content 😭💞 my hyperfixated brain is thanking u deeply

can i request a masked (w LEDs bc i love it sm) reader who's saying "i cant believe you guys didnt notice my new haircut" or something similar, having a :( face on their mask and 141 is so confused like "we cant see your hair" "you have hair? kinda thought u were bald" stuff like that 😭 its a weird idea but im craving stupid platonic fluff like that

ty for the masked reader content love u sm for it

Hehehe as someone who hyperfixates a lot I am flattered I can induce it onto someone else LMAO Just a lil Drabble for this one I couldn’t think up of much 😅

“You pissed ‘em off,” Ghost observes and Soap’s face drops into one of sheer betrayal.

“That was one time 'n' now you a' think it’s me?” Johnny jerks his head to the side in annoyance. “What about when cap’n-”

“I’m sure they can hear you,” Gaz whisper-shouts as he gestures to you. The rest of the task force look over to you sitting on the couch at the far end of the common room. Absentmindedly watching the shared television, your arms are folded with your mask in a perpetual "-_-". You make no indication that you heard them, no, you were fully set on ignoring them all morning.

"Captain what should we do?" Kyle asks.

"This isn't a mission Kyle, we can talk it out," Price sighs.

"Care to do the honours, then?"

Price stills, beady eyes sparing a glance at your unmoving figure. If the rest of the task force didn't know any better, they would think the unwavering captain was scared.

"'m busy," he replies gruffly.

"Busy" being him fishing around in his pocket for a new cigar for an impossibly long amount of time until his subordinates let him off the hook.

"L.T.?" Johnny looks to the next superior officer, to which Simon only responds with a half-hearted grunt. In truth, Simon and John have always been good at figuring out your mood. This is one of the few times they've been left stumped, clear through the silent conversation they shared as they looked at each other.

"Cowards," Johnny mutters to himself before stomping up to you, with a drawn out, sing-song (but horrendously out of tune) "bonnieeeee" announcing his presence to you. You don't even flinch.

Johnny saddles himself beside you, leaning into you. He offers you his sweetest puppy-dogs to try and placate you before he tests the waters.

"So... what's up?"

The rest of the task force was slowly joining Johnny, you could tell as Price's cigar smoke became more pungent. An explosive move by you has these grown men flinching as you pull out a strip of paper and slam it on the coffee table in front of you, mask flitting to an angry face all the while before returning to "-_-".

Simon reaches the paper first. Delicately opening the thin parchment as Kyle and John peer over his shoulder. Johnny looks up at them but stays by your side.

Simon looks at you.

"A hairdresser?"

"Got it done yesterday," you seethe. "And no one bloody noticed. They're not cheap, you know!"

Johnny tries putting a hand on your shoulder but you jerk it away. There's a heavy moment of silence as you keep laser focused on whatever the hell the television is playing. Your hands grip your biceps as you ensure they stay crossed.

Kyle eventually submits. He kneels before you, not daring to take up all the view of the screen, but just enough for him to be sure you were aware of him.

"Love, I'm gonna ask you a question. Please don't take this the wrong way."

"What?" you grumble.

Kyle takes an audible inhale. He receives an encouraging nod from Price and he needs to take a swallow to prepare. Even you have to admit the anticipation is killing you now, you offer him the relief that he indeed has your attention, mask now set with "?" over the eyes.

"... you have hair?"

You groan and swat him away as Johnny bursts out laughing. Leaning forward with your head in your hands you try to make it seem like your shaking shoulders were from devastation and not because you were laughing too.

"No, Kyle, I just thought I'd go to a hair dresser and admire everyone else's hairdos," you retort once you've recollected yourself.

"Thought you were bald," Simon muses.

"Right back at you, Skull Face."

"I'm sure it looks good, sergeant," Price encourages as he takes the receipt from Simon, inspecting the details.

"At least someone appreciates my efforts unlike the rest of you."

"How about we appreciate it more then, bonnie?" Johnny leans in mischievously. "Take that mask off. Show us how good it looks."

"Actually, I- uh... I got my hair treated. Need to keep this mask on, let it set, you know?"

Kyle tilts his head.

"That's not how it works-?"

"I've been waiting for this bit!" You exclaim as you point at the television screen. Kyle shakes his head with a smile before joining you on the couch, opposite to Johnny. Simon and John also situate themselves around the room, far enough for personal distance but close enough to still take part in conversations, and it's now a typical off-day for the 141. They may not be able to see your face - nor your improved hair - for now, but perhaps one day they'll be graced with the sight. For now, these antics around base will suffice.

Call of Duty Navigation Masked Reader Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #/*avery actually writes*/ #/*avery checks the mailbox*/ #anon mail ❤️ #/*cod x masked reader*/

[ferrstappen]

loving him is red l Charles Leclerc Imagine

a/n: it’s been YEARS since I've written something but I have too many ideas and time so I'll give it a try again <3 any feedback is appreciated and than you for reading <3

also, of course the only song I could think of is Red by Taylor Swift (taylor’s version ofc)... I mean... how could I not?

genre: fluff.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female singer!reader.

summary: Charles’ girlfriend receives her first Grammy for Song of the Year, sadly enough the inspiration behind the song isn’t able to make it to the ceremony.

“This feels so wrong, I should be there to support you... You’re always here for races and shit” Charles said while watching her get ready on a fancy hotel room, meanwhile he was stuck in Maranello. 

“Please don’t, it’s pre-season and all that, you know they needed you there today. Plus, I'll be home by tomorrow so we can celebrate... or you can console me since I'm probably losing anyway.” (Y/N) quietly said the last part while sipping some expensive sparkling wine her assistant brought to the room. 

“You are not losing! Babe, how many times do I need to tell you that?” Charles sounded truly exasperated with his girlfriend, like he truly had told her many many times. 

Truth be told, she never thought she would be considerate at all. Yes, her label had submitted her second album and the first single of the record, but they were almost obligated to do so, it was an unspoken rule in the music industry that you just had to do the entire “for your Grammy consideration” portfolio if you wanted to be taken seriously, but (Y/N) never really thought the song she first released from her album would be such a hit. 

Honestly, they just were words her heart could think of whenever she saw Charles, because he truly was red... In the way he wore the color so proudly, from the way his car was always a shiny red even when he was driving it in the driest of the deserts, to the way he loved her so passionately, fearlessly and undoubtedly... He was red. 

It never made sense to her that millions around the world would mix her lyrics on Ferrari t-shirts or that fans would wait for Charles on the stands with bright red lyrics of the song. 

He loved it, by the way. He would flush a bright red whenever someone on the grid teased him about it, pretended he was shy about everyone knowing those words were for him, but his heart would sing a little every single time he listened or read the verses meant for him, just as he would make sure the camera would capture your cute face over FaceTime when he got a podium and you couldn’t be here, or how he made sure to tell you his best joke when you’d arrive to the paddock holding hands, loving the way the photographers captured your laugh and the glint in his eyes just by being the reason of your smile. 

He had the superior relationship and he just knew it, and he made sure the rest of the word knew it as well. 

“So, are you finally going to show me the dress?” Charles said while putting his headphones on to ignore the world outside of his driver’s room.

She cheekily smiled. “No, not really” She told him, earning a dissatisfied groan from him.

“Then when do you want me to see it? On TV like the rest of the world?” He argued, his accent getting thicker.

“Actually yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” (Y/N) was going to keep talking, but her assistant let her know the dress had just arrived and they needed her full attention. 

“No, I heard that! You can mute me and I’ll just watch over here!” Charles pleaded, earning a heartily laugh from her girlfriend. 

“I’m so sorry, bebé. I have to go, but you can watch me on TV though!”

Charles sighed, unable to hide his grin. “You know I'll be glued, I don’t care about the time or anything,” even through his noise-cancelling headphones he could hear a big commotion outside his room, meaning someone would come knocking on his door soon. He took a deep breath before focusing his eyes on his muse again. “I love you so much, chérie. I’m so proud of you and whatever happens tonight doesn’t change that. Please whatever you need I'll have my phone at all times, I’m capable of stoping the car in the middle of nowhere and you know it,” they both laughed. “I’m right there with you, I love you.”

She repeated the same words over and over again, feeling a bit numb as several people helped her fitting the red Maison Valentino dress to perfection. It was a whirlwind from there, the last glance she took of herself in the mirror was to make sure the small prancing horse shaped stud earrings, a nod to her man watching on tv.

As if writing a Grammy nominated song and almost an entire album about him wasn’t enough...

Her hands couldn’t help the tingling on the palm of her hands, her body knowing she was missing her other half; he always needed to fix his tie or style a stubborn strand of hair, and it always calmed her nerves to take care of him. 

Back in Italy, Charles was anxiously watching the TV in front of him, some friends, including Carlos, were sitting around the living room, mindlessly chatting about some of the artists performing on the Grammys, what were the plans for the night, the next Real Madrid game...

But Charles eyes were trained on his girl smiling in front of the TV, feeling giddy as she gracefully walked down the carpet on her silky red dress, eyes shining and smile intoxicating. 

The night flew by and Charles swore he could feel your hand squeezing his as they announced the category he had been waiting for. Harry Styles was on the stage with the envelope.

Everything went by so quickly, Charles didn’t notice his friends had shut up and were with their eyes trained on the TV. They all collectively gasped when the brit announced Red by (Y/N) as the song of the year. 

Then it was just noise; from the TV, from people cheering on the theatre as she hid her face on the palm on her hands, to the living room where Charles had rose to his feet hugging everyone around him.

To anyone on the outside it would’ve seemed like their country had won the World Cup. 

“God, I don’t know how to begin,” She shakily said while holding the gramophone. “I know I’m supposed to say that this is for my fans and my label and everyone who believed in me, and it is but...” She smiled to herself. “This is for you, the inspiration behind every word, every verse, every note. My incredible boyfriend who makes my heart sing and my life happy. They haven’t invented the words to tell you how much I love you,” She could feel tears building on the corner of her eyes, until she saw a stage producer informing she only had ten seconds left to wrap up her speech. “God, just ten seconds? Thank you so much to everyone, Char I love you with my entire heart, and thank you to everyone for this I’ll always have this moment in my heart, even after I’m gone I’m sure this is gonna be engraved. Thank you!”

The camera captured her glistening eyes as she smiled through the lens. Charles had unshed tears as his heart was beating loudly. Only seconds passed until his phone was vibrating with an incoming FaceTime call. 

“So... Did you like the red dress?” She joked and he laughed through the unshed proud tears. He never knew he could feel so much pride and love for another person. 

He chuckled. “I loved it, and I love you so much words cannot explain. Fuck, how come I wasn’t there?”

Their love was red.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you

[cryptocism]

Since I think about clones like I’m getting paid for it, I've been rotating those alternate universe "what if Bart and Thad were actually raised together" scenarios in my brain, with Thad either post-redemption-arc or pre-villainy. Because adjusting Thad's character to fit an ally role while still keeping true to his core motives and personality is so so fascinating to me.

Like I think there's an immediate first instinct to slot Thad into a "bad" twin category: ie rebellious and prickly, doesn't get along with people, mean lil shit. And obviously it's not wrong bc we're outside the realm of canon, but the reading still feels a little left of center.

Because Thad is mean and prickly in canon. In the Impulse comics he belittles Bart and Bart’s friends/family constantly in his appearances. He loves to goad, and monologue about his own superiority and intelligence. He’s very Not Nice, and he causes many problems, and he even does it on purpose.

But, I think it’s important to consider the context. From the jump Thad knows very little about anything except which team he’s on and who he’s playing for. He gets his orders from an unseen authority and he carries out his tasks because success means his team wins.

For all his self-aggrandizing talk, everything he does is in service of an end goal that doesn't actually center him. He's trying to get revenge for grievances he's never personally suffered, retribution for actions never committed against him. Everything he does is on someone else's behalf.

Thad sees in black and white, us or them. Up until the final few issues of Mercury Falling, Bart and co. are Thad's enemies, of course he's not going to be nice.

So Thad's motivation seems pretty simple: Thawne Supremacy™.

But it’s in Mercury Falling where this starts to fall apart, and the real core of his motivation gets revealed. Thad pretends to be Bart and suddenly Helen is nice to him. Bart’s friends think he’s funny. Bart’s teachers are impressed with his grades. Max ruffles his hair and gives him hugs and tells him he’s done a good job.

If he was actually an inherently mean and standoffish character, if Thad actually had significant personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict, the weight of such tiny acts of kindness wouldn’t completely break him the way that it does in canon.

Thad thinks his goal is superiority and revenge and Thawne Supremacy™, but he's chasing validation. Thad doesn’t have a personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict. He wouldn't get much satisfaction if he actually destroyed Bart and his family. Thad's personal victory would be the recognition after the fact: the praise and attention from the other Thawnes (a group of people he has literally never met) for his success.

He wants validation. That's basically it. And the fact that he gets it so easily from Bart's family and friends doesn't align with how he's told himself things are supposed to work.

Actually tangentially, Bart and Thad’s respective relationships to authority is so diametrically opposed and tbh kind of subversive in a superhero narrative. Where the hero is the one carving his own path without regard to social or societal rules, no fucks to give what anybody thinks of it. And the villain is a chronic people-pleaser.

Just based on Thad’s reaction to simple praise and affection from Max I really think Thad’s motivation has more to do with the response he gets than whatever the details are of any given task. He has no actual personal convictions beyond getting positive attention, and whatever he did have crumbled as soon as Bart’s friends laughed at his joke one time. Which of course leads into the core of his whole conflict at the end of Mercury Falling. He cares too much about Bart’s friends and family now, he doesn’t want to kill them, but worse than that, he’s faced with the sudden realization that he’s on the wrong side.

The Allens gave Thad everything he actually wanted and needed, but his conception of himself is inexorably tied to the Thawnes: who gave him jack shit. These two facts are in opposition to each other, and he can’t reconcile the reality of it.

Anyway all this to say, in an AU where Bart and Thad are raised together or Thad gets an actual redemption arc etc etc, I think my personal take on Thad’s personality whether it be pre-or-post-villainy would be one that is extremely socially conscious. He is much more of a people-person than Bart. Whether he's actually accurate in assessing people's feelings and how to respond to them can be hit or miss, but he wants to behave in a way that gets people to like him.

Pretending to be Bart isn’t remarked upon as, like, a difficult task for Thad. In his internal monologue he’s literally bragging to himself about how easy it is. But what’s especially notable to me is where his act differs from Bart's typical MO. Everyone notices, and lots of people comment, and presumably if Thad didn’t have the excuse of Max’s illness to “motivate” Bart to do better he would’ve been found out immediately. And those things are, specifically: paying attention in class, doing his chores, staying on task, and being helpful around the house. The one thing about Bart he chooses not to emulate is Bart’s rebelliousness.

Thad wants to prove himself, constantly, to whatever authority he respects (probably Max in this scenario) and will do whatever it takes to make that happen. In contrast to Bart, who only listens to authority when the shit they're saying actually makes sense to him. It’s excessively difficult to convince him to go against his own interests. (And I think a key part of that is Bart’s security in knowing that no matter how much he fucks up or doesn’t listen, the people he loves will always love him back.)

Thad’s got the people-pleaser in him that has to deserve whatever he’s given. It’s why he’s happiest when he’s given a clear goal or objective to complete, because it gives him an opening to prove himself.

All this to say that if we are quantifying Bart and Thad as a "good" or "bad" twin, in the eyes of every authority: Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the bad twin, Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the one who doesn’t care about school and whose grades vary wildly depending on his personal interest. He’s the one who goes off to do dangerous shit for fun and gets in trouble constantly and doesn’t do his chores and is thoroughly unconvinced by any authority figure trying to sell him bullshit. 

Thad is the one who needs to know all the rules just so he can experience the joy of following them. Relentlessly obedient. He'll put all his effort into doing all the right things that’ll endear him to whoever he wants to impress - meaning he’s the asshole who reminds the teacher about the assigned homework. Bart might be the most popular boy in school, but Thad is a pleasure to have in class.

Like Thad can (and should) still be high-strung and short-tempered and sarcastic and edgy and mean, because he is. But he can’t be doing all that without rhyme or reason. Colouring every interaction has to be that one-zero binary of ally or enemy. He needs to have somebody he’s proving himself to: a team he’s on and a team he’s against. He’s not an inherently rebellious character. He can go up against The Enemy, whoever he deems as such, but it has to be in service of a hypothetical future in which somebody eventually tells him he did a great job.

And in the interest of continuing to beat a dead horse, it connects to their respective upbringings. Thad and Bart were both raised in VR, but Bart’s experience had the side effect of basically hard-wiring him against insecurity. His world was a playground tailor-made for him, and he was never made to feel bad or insufficient about any aspect of himself. His first interaction with a real human person was Iris moving heaven and earth to save him, without him knowing her, without her knowing him, with no reasoning for the act needed beyond Being Her Grandson. Which is probably a significant factor in why Bart moves through the world with frankly atomic levels of autistic swag.

Thad’s VR upbringing installed self-consciousness in his psyche before any other personality trait. As in: he is immediately made conscious of himself and his relationship with everyone he will ever encounter. He’s told two things: he’s a clone of someone else (inherently derivative, lesser) and that he was made to be superior (a status to achieve). Which is such an instant clarifier for Thad’s everything. Where superiority is a condition that everyone either has, or does not. It’s the one-zero binary again: are they better than me or am I better than them. Being above others is mandatory, and if his superiority is ever challenged by hard evidence or god forbid nuance Thad’s brain physically cannot take it. He needs to be better, to be worse is unthinkable, and there is no other way to be.

And this status of better or worse is, crucially, not up to Thad to decide. He needs The Authority to validate him. Bart never tries to prove himself because he has nothing to prove. Thad’s entire identity hinges on the self-worth he gets from doing a Good Job.

It is such an inherent part of his motives in the Impulse comics canon, which is why it always feels a little off when he’s interpreted as a jackass indiscriminately.

Like I don't think he needs everyone to like him. But I do think he has either one person or a set of very particular people that he needs to like him. Everyone else is either in that circle or outside of it.

(Which is why Bart is such a great foil for Thad tbh. There is no set of words or behaviors that’ll change Bart’s opinion of Thad, because Bart is unaffected by obedience or charm. So ironically Bart is probably one of few people that Thad doesn’t bother to put on even a little bit of an act for.)

While Bart goes with his instincts, his personal beliefs and convictions at all times, Thad is hyper-conscious of big-picture goals. They balance each other out that way. Thad's keeping track of whatever expectations he has placed on him, and how his actions reflect on him and the team beyond short-sighted solutions. He's a team player. AND he's an asshole.

#soapbox #dc #thad thawne #thaddeus thawne #inertia #bart allen #impulse #like he cannot be mean indiscriminately... u must interrogate WHY hes mean and to whom #if hes being raised with Max and Helen he would not intentionally do anything to make their lives more difficult #if hes being raised by Meloni same situation #he needs to be trying to get validation from SOMEWHERE u know #and of course he'll mess up and hurt the people he loves or wants to impress he is a human being #but while that can sometimes be the result #that is never the Goal u kno #not his Core Motivation #i feel like the more i talk about this the less sense im making

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part two

authors note: well, holy shit, the response to this has been so unexpected yet insanely appreciated and humbling! the kind words of support and interest really have been so wonderful to receive. thank you thank you thank you!

this ended up much longer than i intended, but i couldn't find a "good" place to break it in half, so i apologize for the length.

i also feel like this is a bit on the boring but necessary side in terms of setting the scene and backdrop for what's to come....

i also feel like this is gonna def be more than 4 parts, so sorry!!!!

warnings: language, slight sexy time, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny's child

words: 7.5k

tag gang: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion @tshepisho @lizzycaraballo-blog @xiamentshoneypot

“I need a break.” He slid out of you, the absence of his thick dick noticeable and borderline uncomfortable. Despite the fact that your voice was hoarse, limbs jello, and pussy tender as all outdoors, you still wanted him. Wanted to feel him inside you. But you knew you also needed some amount of time for your body recoup for the next round, so you made logic overpowered lust.

He made a sound, lying on his back, eyes on the ceiling. “So fucking needy for this dick.”

“Shut up.” It was intentionally not a denial, because he wasn’t entirely wrong. It’d been a shitty past couple weeks, what with parent teacher conferences, your least favorite time of the year. There were only so many different ways you could try to gently explain to parents that their child wasn’t the next Cornel West and actually could benefit from “additional evaluations.” But that almost always went over their heads as they attempted to tell you, the professional, the real reason why their child wasn’t doing well.

You were just over all of it and damn near at your wits end when you got the text from Joe that he’d be in town this weekend. That goofy ‘i’m about to get some good dick’ smile was damn near stamped on your face in the days preceding his arrival. You needed an outlet, and wearing yourself out on his dick until you were physically incapacitated happened to be the perfect one, the best one.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have options, you did, but they were subpar. And that was the problem with having a chance to experience superior dick, everything else that followed was mid. No one had ever fucked you like Joe. No man before him had ever made you come from just penetration. You always needed more. Had to sometimes physically instruct them on what you needed. Not with him. He gave you more—-the man could and had stayed with his face buried between your legs for hours on end—-but it wasn’t necessary. He could fuck you to a toe curling, light blinding climax with just a few good, deep strokes.

And yes, you still struggled with the guilt of fucking someone else’s man, but in times like this, where you were beyond stressed the fuck out, all you could think about was getting off and decreasing that stress. The guilt session could come later.

“What’s wrong?” He asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. You could both be around each other and not say a word without an ounce of discomfort. It was nice.

“Parents suck.” You answer, bluntly, afterwards realizing how vague that is. “I’ve had parent teacher conferences the past couple weeks, and they’ve been getting on my nerves trying to tell me how to do my job.”

“That sounds annoying.”

“Beyond, and makes me feel like they’re insinuating I don’t know what I’m talking about. I do. They just don’t want to hear it.” They prepared you in school, to some extent, to expect those select parents that weren’t the easiest to work with but to always stand behind your professional judgment regardless if one agreed or not. And for the most part, your parents in the years since you’d been teaching were relatively chill. It just seemed that this time of the year is when all of them decided to be in their difficult era.

One hand behind his head, Joe looks over at you. “Then that’s on them.” He shrugs. “You can’t make them hear what they don’t want to hear.”

Groaning loudly, you turn on your side, propping your own head up with your hand. “I know. It just sucks for the kids. There’s a couple who might be on the spectrum or have ADHD, but I can’t outright say it, so all I can do is strongly imply. And trust me, my implications are clear as fucking day. It’s just annoying when I have to work harder than I should to get people to be their kids' advocate, not their adversary.”

He’s quiet for a second and then asks. “What’s the best part of your job?”

The answer doesn’t even require contemplation. “My students. Hands down. I love kids. I love helping them learn and seeing the excitement on their face when they finally grasp a concept I’m teaching. It’s super rewarding.” 

His gaze lingers on you, “Then focus on that. You do this because it’s a passion and a love and you’re clearly good at it.” 

His words marinate over you, reminiscent of past conversations where you’re the one feeding positivity into him, reminding him to not lose focus of what’s most important and why he does what he does. The roles being reversed is different but nice. It’s nice to have him to talk to, it’s always easy to do so.

You move your hand to his chest and slowly walk your fingers downward. “Good dick and good advice. This trip is a double win for me.”

His jaw clenches when you begin to stroke him, sinfully and intentionally slowly. A smirk forms on your face. He’s just as needy for you as you are for him.

Joe’s voice is hoarse with desire. “You ready for the next round?”

“Yes.” You’re not sure if physically, you’re well enough, but that’s what epsom salt baths are for. And Motrin. You need him. Climbing on top, you grab his hardened length and align it at your entrance, dew coating the tip and serving as natural lubricant. “But I want to be on top this time.” 

________

“Mommy!”

You’re startled awake by the loud voice, jumping body, and smiling face of your personal alarm clock. The only alarm clock you’ve ever had that you can’t dictate the time it goes off. It takes a second for you to settle yourself, to push away the inappropriate afterthoughts of such a salacious dream—one you’re slightly disappointed couldn’t play out longer—to focus on the little human in front of you.

The shining sun beaming down on you from the curtains you’re certain she opened assists in doing just that. You rub at your eyes, a small, warm smile growing. “Good morning, Callie Bear.”

Her eyes, big, brown, and always full of curiosity are focused on you as she stops jumping and lands on her knees. “You’re up!”

You chuckle, how can you not be up with a rambunctious four year old jumping on your bed and screaming for you to wake up? ”I’m up.”

“Yay!” She cheers, tiny fists raised up and victory. “Can we have pancakes?” 

“I don’t know.” You pretend to contemplate her request, index finger against your bottom lip. “Can we?”

She pouts, and you bite on your lip to suppress your laughter. Her arms cross over her tiny chest, bonnet covered head tilting to the side. “May we have pancakes?”

Sometimes, you feel bad for your daughter, having a teacher for a mother. You’re always going to be on her about anything academic related, especially English. “We certainly can.” Yawning, you sit up in bed and scratch your scalp through your bonnet. “But first, hygiene.” 

Swooping her into your arms, you’re met with a chorus of giggles as you tickle her stomach with your index finger. Walking into the bathroom, you sit her on the counter and reach her her toothbrush, putting on her (Halle Bailey) Little Mermaid themed toothpaste before letting her do her thing as you do hers.

This is the first time in a while that you’re grateful for your daughter waking you up so early on a weekend. Those dreams….you’d be lying if you said they didn’t happen more than you’d like to admit. You’d tried to figure out what triggered them but have yet to be successful. 

The simplest answer would be that you miss him. You miss Joe, but that’s also the answer you refuse to admit. You can’t miss him. Don’t have the right to miss someone else’s man, someone else’s husband. 

All you can do is be appreciative that one of the biggest regrets in your life brought you your biggest blessing.

Calista, Callie, to almost everyone she knows, was a complete and utter surprise.

It was time for your women’s wellness exam, and in the set of questions they asked you, one was of course the date of your last menstrual cycle. Being stumped for a second was normal, hence why you used your beloved Flo app to track your cycle. But, it’s when you opened the app and realized you hadn’t logged a period in two months, you knew.

Didn’t need a blood test to tell you the obvious. 

You were most definitely pregnant. 

You’d used Flo consistently since you were 14 years old, there was no way in hell you’d forgotten for two whole months to input the period dates.

So, after crying and damn near having a panic attack, your doctor provided you with pamphlets. Options, as they were called. You wouldn’t review them until a couple days later, needing that time to process that you were actually pregnant. Pregnant by a married man that you’d ended things with, ironically, on the night your daughter was conceived.

What in the actual fuck were you supposed to do? Send him a text and say ‘nvm. Congrats, we’re expecting. Are you gonna tell your wife or should I?’ To this day, you’re convinced that the nasty wave of ‘morning sickness’ you experienced the first few weeks of finding out you were with child was actually just your absolute disgust that you’d allowed another woman’s husband to impregnate you.

It was like you were walking in the same footsteps your mother molded for you. Something you swore you’d die before letting happen.

What’s that saying? We make plans, and God laughs. Well, he must be having a field day with you. 

It was actually in confiding in Mariah, your best friend since kindergarten, that you were able to look past your shame and panic to see this for what it is.

“You want to have kids, don’t you?” She asked in an obvious tone, picking through the big bowl of popcorn you two shared while Insecure played at a low volume on your TV. “Well, here’s the kid.”

“I wanted to have kids with a husband, Mariah.”

“Well—“

“Shut up.” You tossed a few pieces of popcorn in her direction. This was not the time for her occasional joke. You were too busy having a mental breakdown.

“Does it really matter how the baby got here? Aren’t you the one always saying kids are a blessing? Why are you trying to block yours?” It’s a fair, valid point that you’re too stubborn to want to hear, even if it’s what you needed to hear. “I’m just saying if you’ve been blessed with being a mom, something you’ve always wanted. Seems kinda silly we’re having this discussion instead of baby names, baby showers, and gender reveals.”

“I’m not doing a gender reveal.” That much you are absolutely sure of. Never. But, Mariah’s words do resonate with you. Why were you so caught up on how you got pregnant? Yeah, it was fucked up, but dwelling on it did nothing but make you feel worse. You always imagined this would be a happy occasion, couldn’t you find it in you to be happy? Regardless of the father and that whole Tubi of a situation.

There was a life growing inside of you, no matter the dynamics of the creation, the child had done nothing wrong, didn’t deserve to be blamed. And the truth was you weren’t really that upset, you were more happy than anything, if you really allowed yourself to feel without reservation. Borderline excited, even. Maybe even at the fact that you would always have a small piece of him with you in a really big way. 

Even if he wouldn’t be a part of that experience.

And it was then that you decided. You didn’t care what anyone thought, couldn’t think about how your mother, who was completely unaware about your relationship with Joe for the entire three years, would react. You’d figure out the rest of this later because you were having this baby, but you were having this baby by yourself. Joe couldn’t know.

He wouldn’t know.

And almost five years later, nothing has changed. Yes, you absolutely couldn’t see yourself making it through your pregnancy and even the first few weeks postpartum without the help of your mom and Mariah. But, for the most part, you did everything you could by yourself for your daughter, wanting her to see the strength and perseverance of a strong, single mother. 

She finishes brushing before you and spits out the remnant toothpaste in her mouth. “Are we gonna see grandma today?”

You finish a few seconds after, spitting and wiping your mouth before answering. “We certainly are.”

“Yay!” She celebrates as you bring the towel to her face, giving it a gentle cleanse before tossing it into the hamper. Callie wastes no time in removing her bonnet and giving her curls a good shake. The two of you share a laugh as you follow suit. 

 “Pancake time?”

Separating some of her coils, you answer with a wink. “Let mommy wash her face, and I’ll be right out, kiddo.”

“Okay.” Nodding, she jumps off the counter and hurries into the kitchen knowing good and well what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“Sis, what have I told you about jumping off this damn counter?” All you hear is giggling in the wake of her dash. This child has daredevil tendencies that bring out a certain, uncomfortable level of anxiety. Medical bills weren’t in the budget, so you needed her to calm the hell down. 

She probably gets it from–

Shaking your head from unnecessary thoughts, you quickly work your way through your routine and eventually meet her in the kitchen to find her on her tablet, probably trying to figure out what movie to put on while you two cook. On the weekends, you remove the passcode from her device but still maintain the time limits for her overall screen time. 

You refuse to allow her to become an “ipad kid.”

“What’cha pick for us?” Moving through the kitchen, you pull out the necessary items and place them on the small island. 

Climbing onto the barstool, she flips the screen with a proud smile. “Moana!”

Gasping with faux surprise, you ask, “again?”

Much like her mother who was like her mother, an affinity and passion for all things Disney is another thing your child inherited. She could watch Disney movies for the rest of life and never get bored. And Moana was at the top of that list, the new Little Mermaid was a close favorite, but Moana resonated deeply with Callie for reasons you still don’t fully understand. 

Well, she is half Pacific Islan—

Clearing your throat, you and Callie get to work on breakfast, both singing along and dancing to the catchy Disney music. It’s a sweet bonding moment between the two of you, a bit of a tradition on the weekends. You’re not much of a cook, at all, but breakfast food is relatively simple. And thankfully, your child is not as picky as some other kids. A stack of pancakes with sausage is always enough to satisfy her. 

It’s when you’re both sitting in the living room, on the floor, legs crossed while you eat the delicious breakfast that you’d prepared together that a thought crosses your mind.

A distraction could be beneficial, the dream from earlier still floating around in the back of your head. And not even the dream in as much as the main event from the theme. 

You needed some dick. It’d been too long, that itch needing a scratch to give you some much needed reset. 

So, it’s when Callie is focused on the scene in Moana when Maui’s hook is broken that you grab your phone and shoot off a text. 

You free today?

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzes with a response. 

Just tell me when and where.

________

Walking through the doors of your mother’s hair salon is always an experience, nostalgic almost, to all the times you and your friends would hang out there with the hopes that you could get free or discounted services. Usually free for you, not so much for your friends. 

Business was still business.

The familiar smell of hair oils, deep conditioner, and the overall sound of flat irons sizzling through hair brings a warm smile to your face. It’s things like this, this place even, that remind you why you decided to come home after college.

Home, where the closest major stores like Target and Walmart, and even the airport, are nearly half an hour away. Where you have only one elementary school, one middle school, and one high school. Where many of the streets are two laned and littered with storefronts, like your mom’s salon. Hell, the freaking bank, post office, and city hall are in the same building.

Everyone knows everyone, and for the most part, everyone looks out for each other. 

It isn’t for everybody, this almost Hallmark movie type setup. You know this. Hence why many leave for school and never or seldom return. But, for you, it’s home.

It’s also the perfect place to discreetly and raise the daughter of a celebrity.

“Grandma!”

Your mom is in the middle of a conversation with a patron but almost immediately redirects her attention to the equally familiar voice of Calista. “There’s my grandbaby!” Callie runs into your mom’s arms and is peppered with kisses all over. “Looking more and more like your mama every day.”

That genuinely makes you smile. You tend to think she favors Joe more than yourself, usually when she’s making certain facial expressions. She has a lot of his mannerisms, which you are grateful for, happy that she has characteristics from both sides. But any and all of the good things she can take from you, you want her to have.  

Callie’s smile is bright and infectious, as always. “That’s cause mommy’s my mommy!”

You laugh, approaching them and leaning in for your mom’s one armed hug as she has Callie in her other arm. “Hey, mama.”

“Hey, baby.”

Your relationship with your mom has definitely been up and down over the years, which you’d like to think is the standard for most mother-daughters. It’s something that’s arguably strengthened over time, especially post Callie. You’d gained so much more appreciation for your mother raising you on her own as a single parent. There was always appreciation, but infinitely more now as you were also in the same position. 

“I was hoping she could hang out with you for a little bit today. I have some business to take care of. If that’s okay?” 

Your mother gives you the look, the look that indicates she knows there’s more to what you’re saying but she won’t push out of respect for your privacy. And you’re grateful for that. You don’t necessarily want to explain that you need her to keep an eye out on Callie while you attend your dick appointment. 

Sucking her teeth, she starts walking to the back where her office is located. “When have I ever had an issue spending time with my only grandchild?” She has you there. Your mom would take Callie every day if you let her, and you’re so thankful for that. Not even for the tremendous assistance your mom provides but for the close relationship she has with Callie, similar to how close you were with your grandma. “Want me to do her wash day for her while she’s here?”

At that, Callie’s eyes go wide as she starts to whine, “noooo. I don’t want to.”

You chuckle. “That’s how mommy feels too, babes.” You dreaded her wash day as much as you dreaded your own. The women in your family were blessed with long, thick, healthy curls that Callie clearly inherited from you but also her father’s side cause the girl had some hair. “If you don’t mind, mama.”

She waves off your unnecessary added comment and starts to assess the state of Callie’s hair, murmuring comments to herself. 

You lean down in front of Callie and move your hand to her knee. “You sure you’re gonna be okay, sweetie?”

She nods and asks, “can we get ice cream when you come back?”

“We surely can.” You don’t allow her to have a lot of sweets—she already has enough energy as it is—but every so often, you two get the homemade ice cream cones at the local parlor. Sometimes you’ll sit outside and just talk, sharing laughs and inside jokes over the best ice cream anyone could ever have. And considering she’s about to endure a wash day, she deserves it. “I love you, Callie Bear.”

Putting her tablet on her lap, she leans over and hugs you tight. For such a tiny human, she always gives the best, most loving hugs. “I love you too, mama.”

Callie goes back to her tablet, and you issue your mom one more statement of appreciation before heading out so you can have your urge squashed and get back in time to have dessert with your little girl. 

On the car ride there, you send up a quick prayer that this time will be different, that you can get what you need and be gone without being asked to stay. It’s always the same answer, so maybe the last one finally stuck to where he won’t hope.

Won’t get his own feelings hurt.

________

“You know you don’t always have to leave right away.”

Of course.....of course.

You’re in the midst of hooking your bra back on when he hits you with the offer you were stupidly hoping he’d pass on this time around. 

Bold of you to assume you could come get some dick without this man trying to turn it into a cuddle session. 

Your smile is tight as you politely decline. “I don’t want to leave Callie at the salon too long. You never know what she’s hearing.”

It’s a weak excuse, hence him poking a hole right through it. “You know your mom would shut that down right away. Get back in the bed.”

“Really, Amir, I can’t stay.” Once your bra is on, you reach on the ground for your panties, sliding them back on as well. The sooner you get yourself decent, the sooner you can dip.

“Can’t or won’t?”

And here it goes. Sometimes, you wonder why you continue to put yourself in this situation. Amir’s stroke game is nice, but is it really worth this constant routine? You two fuck, he tries to make it more, an argument, silence on both ends for a little while until one of you needs that urge handled. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. 

It’s been roughly the same since you were in high school.

Amir was your first damn near everything: first crush, first boyfriend, first kiss, first time. It was a textbook small town romance. He was the quarterback, and you were the cheerleading captain. Everyone said you were perfect together and predicted at one point you’d get married after college. Truthfully, you once thought the same. But outside of aesthetics, your relationship was always rocky, borderline toxic. 

He had poor boundaries with other girls but never saw an issue because it never went beyond flirting. And because you were young, dumb, and just as toxic sometimes, you’d intentionally flirt with other guys to piss him off, knowing it was wrong to drag innocents into your Bobby and Whitney of a relationship but more interested in making him see your side of it.. 

Still, young and dumb. Not an excuse, but definitely a reason.

Even as you both went off to college, each attending separate schools, you’d occasionally hookup during the winter breaks. More often during the summer. He was your constant, preferred over allowing random dick into you, especially as he was most familiar and you knew he was clean. The devil you know type of thing.

Post college was when you really ended it, deciding that it was time to put the childish things behind you, time to put him behind you.

And you’d done relatively well for a while, the two of you becoming damn near strangers. Especially when Joe came into the picture. Amir was good in bed, but Joe was heavenly. Just the thought of anyone other than him fucking you at that time was repulsing. 

But, Joe is gone, has been, so now you’re stuck returning to the same nigga you just can’t seem to get rid of because he has a decent sized dick he, mostly, knows how to use.

And your rose can only go so far. 

“Fine. Won’t. Don’t. Not interested.” Standing up, you shoot him a look of challenge, of defiance. “Better?”

Your words understandably tick him off as he cruelly asks, “How long are you gonna let yourself be stuck on him? That nigga abandoned you and his kid, what is there to even be stuck on?”

Regardless of what happened between you and Joe, mostly with how it played out, you refuse to allow anyone to speak badly of him. Specifically when it pertains to his absence in your and Callie’s lives, especially since that was 100% your call. Only a select few know the full story, therefore the majority have no right to speak on it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so please just shut the fuck up.”

“Where is he then, huh? It’s been almost 5 years, Y/N. You need to move the fuck on. He’s your past.” Moving out of the bed, he comes up to you and places one hand to your face. You fight the desire to pull away. His touch is suddenly uncomfortable, feels wrong and noisome. “It’s time to focus on your future.”

Not that you’d ever admit it to Amir, but there’s a hint of truth to his voice. Eventually, random hookups to fulfill your sexual needs will become insufficient. Hell, even now, you still desire to be married, to give Callie that 'traditional' family. The problem is mostly lack of options, even if Amir seems convinced you two should give it another try.

 When hell freezes over. 

Your voice is even and to the point as you finish dressing and pull out your key fob. “Like I said, thanks for the scratch, but that’s all this is.” Without giving him time to talk more shit, you head out the door without another fucking word.

________

“Oh shit, is that ole girl Randy used to mess with?” Joe is only halfheartedly listening to what his cousin is saying, mostly focused on the work email he’s reading on his phone. It’s far and few in between they actually have time off, let alone enough time to go home and be among the rest of family. He’s trying to enjoy it and is enjoying it, but work is always on his mind, hence his inability to ignore the email notification that slid in mid-group conversation. “What was her name?”

“It started with an M, didn’t it?” Jey suggests. “Mariah, I think.” 

It's when the correct name is stated that Joe’s attention is briefly redirected. Mariah was your friend, the reason he was ever introduced to you. It’s a name he hasn’t heard in years. If only that was the same amount of time it’s been since he thought of you. No, instead, you’ve taken up real estate in his mind more than he’d ever like to admit or acknowledge.

“Wait, isn’t that—-” Jimmy is silenced, and out of the corner of Joe’s eye, he can see it’s because Jey gave him a look. That look you give someone when you want them to shut up.

Now…now they have his attention.

“What?” It’s when the twins share a look with each other, Jey shaking his head that Joe puts his phone to the side as Jimmy hits the lock button on his phone. “Let me see.” 

“Look, Uce—”

“I said, let me see.” One thing Joe can’t stand more than anything is when people beat around the bush or try to hide things from him. He prefers people to be upfront and honest, damn whatever feelings come up. The truth is always better, in his mind.

And yet……

Shaking his head, Jimmy blows out a breath and hands his cousin the phone.

Joe looks down and instantly regrets ever pushing the matter.

Five years.

It’s been almost five fucking years since he’s seen that beautiful smile, those deep dimples that were one of the first things he noticed about you, outside of your breathtaking beauty. You looked almost exactly the same, maybe a bit heavier, still in all of the right places. Hair a little longer but still the same deep onyx with streaks of purple. You’re smiling and posing with Mariah who also hasn’t changed much outside of a new hair color and the huge baby bump she’s sporting. A baby shower, he’d guess. 

But outside the shock of seeing you, Joe’s attention is also on the third person in the photo. A child, young in age, no more than 4 or 5, black, curly hair styled in two space-buns and a deep dimpled smile that’s almost identical to yours. Her eyes are a beautiful light brown shade, a contrast to your chocolate colored eyes.

But similar to….similiar to his. 

Brows furrowed, Joe is surprised to see you’re tagged in the photo, so he goes to your profile and is even more shocked to find it public. You were always such a private person, but he chalks it up to the fact that the only people who’d really know how to find it would have to be those close to you.

You don’t have a ton of pictures, but he clicks on the first one that has a set of photos of you and the same little girl from the baby shower. It’s dated almost six months ago, so not the newest but better than nothing. The post is a slideshow, so he begins to scroll through the photos, each of them with you and that same child, clearly at various points in her life. The last one stops him for a moment, a photo of you, crying, in a hospital bed holding a newborn baby. 

Swallowing back his emotions, Joe redirects his gaze to the caption:

my calista, my callie, my baby girl. God used one of the hardest periods of my life to bless me with the best gift anyone can receive. every day with you is an adventure. from your incessant questions about the most random of things, constant requests for disney movie marathons, to the way you refuse to part from me without giving the biggest hug and kiss goodbye while yelling ‘i love you, mommy!’. callie, you are my whole heart, and there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, sweet girl. here’s to year 4 and many many more of having the biggest honor and privilege ever of being your mama bear. 

So many things are going through his head right now. 

You had a child.

You have a child.

Based upon the date of the post, you have a child who will be five years old in a couple of months.

A child who has your smile, but his eyes, his nose, and a complexion that looks the perfect combination of the two of you. She looks like the perfect combination of the two of you.

It’s hard to not jump to the obviously glaring conclusion that all of this brings, and still, he tries to not allow his head to go there. You would….you would never do that. You would never keep his child from him, no matter how things ended between the two of you. There was wrongness to that that reached low levels of depravity, and he just couldn’t conjoin that kind of deception with who he always knew you to be. 

You were a woman who believed and tried to live by her morals. It was the reason you eventually cut him out of your life. Nothing about not telling him he has a child is moral. 

He wordlessly hands the phone back to Jimmy and goes back to reading the email, acting like nothing just happened and he doesn't have a million and one thoughts running through the back of his mind. 

It’s after he walks away, giving off an excuse that he needs to call Hunter to discuss a proposed promo that the conversation commences.

“So, we all just gon act like that lil' girl don’t look like Uce? She even got his eyes, man,” Jimmy, being Jimmy, is the first to say it aloud, the only one to actually verbalize what the others are thinking. 

“Jimmy,” Naomi chides but can’t help adding. “Do you really think that could be his kid?”

Jey decides to join in on the conversation. “It’s possible. They messed around for years.”

“But would she really do that? Have his baby and not even tell him about her?” Naomi only met you a handful of times, but all of the interactions were pleasant, and she secretly thought you and Joe would have made a cute couple if the stars were aligned differently. “She had to have told him.”

Jimmy gestures to the sliding door Joe walked through minutes earlier. “Does that look like he knew?”

“This is all just speculation.” Joseph decides to join the conversation, always the one who prefers to listen to all sides before adding his two cents. “Similiar facial features don’t mean they’re related.”

“No, but add in the timeline plus the way it ended, and you can’t help but lean one way.”

“What did happen between them?” Somewhat newer to this circle, Joseph realizes that’s a topic he’s never really heard much about. He knows his cousin basically has an open marriage and sleeps around, but he’s always heard whispers there was a woman he was with for years. 

“She just ended it one day.” Jey answers with a shrug. “Uce really ain't say much outside of that. It was sudden though.”

“But was it? Three years of waiting around for a guy to maybe or maybe not leave his wife for you?” Naomi serves as a counter, shaking her head and leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand. “Sounds like more than enough time to me.”

“It wasn’t nothing like that though. They was just messing around,” Jimmy defends.

“He cut off every other woman he was messing with when they were together.” Jey distinctly remembers how his cousin had one woman and only one woman on speed dial during that period, and it was you. It was always you. “I think it was more than just messing around.”

Joseph nods, taking in all this information. “So, if she is his, do you think she kept her a secret to get back at him for not divorcing Jadah?” It’s a bold question, but a valid one that Jey is the first to dispute.

“Naw, I’m with Naomi. Y/N wouldn’t do that.”

Jimmy shakes his head, starting to see how this is all looking to play out. “Well, if that is Joe’s daughter and that’s how he found out he has a child….this shit is about to get real ugly.”

________

Joe tried to tell himself it was just a wild coincidence. Reminded himself that you yourself said you wanted to get married, have kids. And you’d done that, had a kid. However, revisiting your Instagram pictures, in none of your posts did he see a man.

Or a wedding ring.

And just how fucking quickly could you have moved on? Doing the math, you would have had to have someone on speed dial to get pregnant as fast as you did. And that doesn’t line up with who he knew you to be. You were fucking him and only him. 

You were with him and only him.

So that left him and only him.

And like a man hyperfixated on trying to solve a puzzle, he looks at every single post on your Instagram, starting from the year you met up until now. He focuses especially on the posts that include your daughter, not that many, but enough. 

And when it’s all said and done, thoughts vs counterthoughts, logic vs emotion, Joe is 100% convinced that this is his child.

That he’s just now found out he’s a father through fucking Instagram. 

And now he’s pissed because who the hell were you to keep his child from him? He didn’t give a fuck how you felt about him and his being married, that didn’t give you an excuse to hide a whole kid? 

His kid. 

________

“Ready for your bedtime story, Callie Bear?” 

Reading with Callie has been a must since you found out you were pregnant. Your mom always told you how she read to you in the womb and to this day believes it’s why you always tested out so high with your reading abilities, even in the first grade. You’re not sure how accurate it is, having read some studies and whatnot, but you’ve followed suit, reading to Callie even when she was in your belly. Almost five years later, it’s now a tradition. She can’t go to sleep without a story.

She nods happily. You laugh and slide into the bed next to her. Naturally, she cuddles close to you, book already picked out and waiting on the bed. It’s one she’s heard a dozen times before but one of her favorites, so you read it just as theatrically, voice changes, and everything. Her giggles of happiness and merriment warm your heart. You love these one-on-one moments, wishing you could jar them and keep them stored away forever.

You’re a couple chapters in when she starts to yawn, eyes struggling to stay open, that you slide in the bookmark and promise to pick it up again tomorrow. You know Callie is ready to call it a night when she doesn’t protest. 

But, it’s after placing the book on the shelf and going to tuck her into her covers that she hits you with a question that nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

“Mommy, why don’t I have a daddy?”

You’re not stupid, far from it. This question was bound to come up, sooner or later. For your own selfish sake though, you were hopeful for later, much much later.

She continues, almost nervous in tone. “Ms. Leah said you need a mommy and a daddy to make a baby, so where’s my daddy?”

Curious how the conversation of where babies came from came about, you make a mental note to discuss this with your daughter’s preschool teacher before working to answer her valid question. Truth be told, you have no idea how to answer it. But if anxiety was the dominant emotion before, sadness and devastation easily topple that at the next thing to come out of her mouth.

“Does he not  love me?”

It’s not until that moment that you truly know what it feels like for your heart to shatter into absolute pieces.

“Oh, baby….” Crouching down beside her bed, you move your hand to her forehead, thumb gently caressing her soft skin. You’re so damn lost on how to handle this, what to say to take away her obvious pain, that you go with the soonest thing that hits the forefront of your brain. “Your daddy…..he….he wasn’t ready to be a daddy.”

It could be the truth, it could be a lie. You never gave yourself—or him—the chance to find out, and up until this point, you never saw an issue with that. But now….now you’re wondering just who you made that decision for. 

And if it was the right one.

Callie’s frown deepens, the answer clearly not one that makes her feel any better. “What if I’m a really good girl? Will he be ready then?”

The shattered pieces are now dust, granulated dust that you struggle to hold together in trembling palms. You bring both hands to her face. “Calista, you listen to me. You are the kindest, sweetest, most amazing little girl in the whole wide world. You don’t need to do anything to be a good girl because you are already a good girl, the best girl.”

Her eyes glaze over as she sniffles and asks in a small voice. “So why doesn’t he want me?”

“Oh, sweetie…” You pull her into a hug, holding her close and tight, as if doing so will allow her to absorb all of the love and adoration you have for this tiny human who made your life have meaning. “I’m gonna talk to him, okay? I’ll….I’ll talk to him.” That’s all you can say, even if it’s not a guarantee, even if you have no idea where such an offer came from. And you hate yourself for doing that, for getting her hopes up over something that may not even happen. You haven’t spoken to Joe in almost five years, there’s no guarantee the number is even still the same.

Still, you know you have to at least try, especially when you pull back and see the renewed hope in her teary eyes, the eyes she shares with the father she’s clearly desperate to know about, to meet, to have. 

You close your eyes and press your forehead against hers, speaking with all the love and affirmation in the world, “I love you, Calista. Always, baby.” 

You’re relieved to hear her reply in a less saddened and more hopeful tone, “I love you too, mommy.”

It’s after you’re certain Callie is knocked out and you’ve exhausted every single step of your nighttime routine that you pace around your room, partially trying to avoid an action you know you need to take. 

Especially when you find his number in your phone from an old text thread you could never find it in you to delete. 

You go back and forth for nearly twenty minutes before deciding on a simple question.

is this still joe’s number?

You feel like a damn child, throwing the phone down on the bed and burying your face into your hands. This is so much more difficult than it needs to be, or maybe it isn’t. You made the executive decision to not make Joe aware of your pregnancy for a variety of reasons that felt solid at the time.

Now…now you don’t know any fucking thing anymore, it seems. 

What you do know is that you nearly jump off the bed when your phone begins to ring. Frowning, you look at the time, wondering who in the hell could be calling you at damn near midnight.

But, it’s when you lift your phone to see the caller you know exactly why someone is calling you at damn near midnight.

Ignoring it is so tempting, but the image of Callie in tears wondering why she’s not loved or wanted is more than enough to trample your selfish desires. Sliding the green button upward, you place the phone against your ear, take a deep breath, and speak, “hi.” 

He exhales, your name leaving his mouth for the first time in years. Hearing his voice, let alone hearing him say your name, creates a heaviness you weren’t expecting. Then again, you weren’t expecting to speak to him at all tonight.

Or ever, for that matter.

Communication is suddenly incredibly difficult as you struggle to string words together to create a cohesive statement. “I’m….I’m sorry for calling so late, but—”

“We need to talk.” While your tone is soft and nervous, his is serious and borderline stoic. It takes you for a bit of a loop, but you try not to put too much into it. The real focus should be why he interrupted you so harshly with such a bold statement. He’s not wrong, but why does he think you need to talk? “I’ll get a flight out tomorrow.”

That breaks you from your thoughts. A what?  “wait—”

“You still at the same place?”

Swallowing, still very much confused, you answer, “yes, but—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

The phone goes silent on the other end, and you realize it’s because he’s ended the call. You must stare at that phone for a good five minutes in complete utter shock. Eventually, coming out of the catatonia, only one thought circulates around your mind.

What in the actual fuck just happened? 

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns #black writers #roman reigns fic #arisnotebook

[soullessdianthus]

14 & 15 with Simon??? Can be separate !

A/N: Apologies in advance, I was a little tipsy while writing this. (⁄ ⁄•⁄-⁄•⁄ ⁄) Also sorry for the wait, I had written a whole different version of your request, but it wasn't sticking right with me. Brat taming with lieutenant Ghost in his office! They just like to tease each other. :3

𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 | “𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐢𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.” + “𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭.”

Warnings: established relationship, protective!Ghost?, smut (rough, p in v, brat taming, dom/sub dynamics?)

━ The hell was that? ━ His voice was sharp and full of venom, like always. Full of disappointment, soaking to the core of human flesh. Burning skin, muscles and bones like acid. 

Only the loud thud of the closed doors to his office broke the tension hanging in the air. 

━ What?

You wanted him to say it out loud, to name the reason for his outburst. You were testing his boundaries today, playing with fire. And what did your grandmother tell you? Be careful or you’ll burn your fingers.

That day something was a bit odd about the lieutenant. You noticed how his broad shoulders tensed as he walked you to his office, the way he clenched his fists hanging by his sides, how agitated he was.

Most of the soldiers around the base didn’t even notice those little details, but you did. 

━ Don’t act clueless, sergeant.

Oh, you knew perfectly well what you did wrong. Talking in an undermining way to your superior in front of the recruits? A dangerous game you’ve been playing. He didn’t like being so insolently challenged. 

━ All I did was just pinpointing how you articulate in a demeaning way towards the recruits. You think they’ll stay for long, after being called names? ━ You stood still in front of his desk, hands neatly crossed behind your lower back. After a second you added his rank to stay professional. ━ Sir.

━ Since when do you care about the rookies? Ah, ‘cause you like ‘em, don’t you? You’re seekin’ their attention, isn’t that right? Some little, pathetic boy to play with? 

His warm breath, you could feel it on the back of your neck. Ghost was standing right behind you, his figure towering over yours. Lieutenant tried to intimidate you, to scare you a little. Like in the good, old days. 

━ They are nicer and more eloquent to talk to than you, that’s for sure. You think you’re better than everyone else, do you? Too big of an ego perhaps? 

You finished the sentence with confidence, a stupid smirk twisting the corners of your mouth. 

You weren’t victorious for long. 

Ghost moved quickly, grabbing your hands and locking them where you put them yourself - behind. His other palm pushed the back of your neck into the cold space of his desk. Single strands of your hair tickled his veiny wrist. 

Your whole upper body was pressed tightly to the surface, your left cheek meeting the solid facet. You gasped, being treated so… roughly all of the sudden. 

But wasn’t that what you wanted from the sole beginning?  

━ I think you’re forgetting your place, sergeant ━ Ghost stepped closer towards your pinned body, the front of his clothed thighs and pelvis rubbing against your rear. ━ Got a lil’ bit ahead of yourself. You need a reminder, where do you belong. 

You squirmed under his tight grip, struggling against his immaculate strength. The coiling, irritating sensation began to warm your legs up. But you didn’t protest verbally, not once. 

He released your pretty neck, it could be broken so easily if he only wanted to. The man quickly undid your cargo pants and slid them down your thighs along with your underwear. 

Drenched underwear, the wet stain couldn’t be missed. Not by the lieutenant. 

━ When I’m done with you, you ain’t gonna walk tomorrow, sweetheart. ━ Ghost said near to your ear, when the outside of his calloused palm, teased your inner thighs, slowly climbing up and returning down. 

Who could have thought that such a cold brute as Simon Riley could caress you so gently? But he did that on purpose. To prolong your torture. The wait.  

━ No more sweet talkin’ to those recruits ━ it was an order, de facto, no room for a civilized discussion left. ━ The next time you look at ‘em, I’m goin’ to break their fuckin’ arms.

How could such a violent threat make you so aroused at the same time? Did that make you a degenerate? Fuck. 

You were fucked in the head.

Lieutenant was standing so close, you could feel when he took care of his own trousers and finally released his swollen cock from its confinement. Without any further warning he began forcing his way inside of your silky, dripping walls.

The sudden intrusion made you mewl underneath him, back collapsing almost like you tried to escape.

━ Come on, you can take more than that. 

Within the next firm thrust, Ghost bottomed out, stretching your aroused cunt around his pulsating shaft. He quickly picked out a pace so brutal and fast, almost vulgar, that made you gasp for air.

Ghost was taking all his anger and jealousy on poor you. 

He made your body move rapidly forward with each thrust, your lips parting and mouth falling open. Lieutenant’s office was soon filled with your moans of pleasure, thoughts focused on the glorious feeling of him stuffing your pussy full. 

Ghost held your hands behind your back as he kept pounding into your needy cunt. His other arm keeping your hips steady, his fingers digging so deep into your flesh that it’d certainly bruise the next day. 

Good, he had to leave some marks. So the rookies knew you were his.

━ That’s a good girl ━ he praised you briefly ━ keep moanin’, so they can hear you clearly. Who makes you feel this good, eh? 

He didn’t slow down at all, yet he demanded a response when you could barely focus on anything else than feeling of him. Ghost breaths were becoming louder, almost like a little grunts. You could hear them even through his skull mask, he still had kept on. 

━ Y-You, Ghost. ━ You spat out, barely audible. You were getting closer and closer to your sweet release, but of course he had to take that from you. 

When your automatic mumbling didn’t satisfy him, he pulled out all of his length, leaving you aching for his touch, unsatisfied. Empty.

Lieutenant had to control each aspect of this situation. He had to have an audit over you. Entirely. 

━ That’s not the right answer. ━ The hand that was digging into your hip bone, began to stroke gently down your spine. Each brush of his hand, sending you a warm tingle down your already sore limbs. 

Oh, how you loved his touch.

━ Yo-You, sir. 

━ That’s better. 

Ghost once again began to thrust into you in a merciless rhythm. If your hands were free at the moment, you would surely grip the hard edges of the desk and hold onto your dear life. The way he treated you like an object he could take it all out on you, made you crumble between his fingers.

You little degenerate. 

He managed to contain himself from bursting until you became a literal, whimpering mess underneath him. The delirious feeling of your orgasm blinded you for a few seconds and enhanced each sensation, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes. Ghost barely held back when your inner walls began clenching on him, inviting him to finish too.

So he did - the spurts of his warm cum painted your pussy on the inside as you laid limp, upper half spreaded over his desk. Ghost finally released your poor, aching wrists and put his palm across the furniture’s surface, trying to catch his breath.

There were some days when Ghost was too rough and absolutely wasn’t thinking about how sore you’ll be the next day. So when you were both done, the guilt began to build up inside of his head. 

━ You’re my needy thing, right? ━ He asked rhetorically, before placing a kiss over your forehead. Through that stupid mask of course.

━ All yours, Simon. Always.

#reader insert #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #request

[lxstfathier]

Hi could you please do sex pollen with bass or Alejandro Vargas or both with an inexperienced female reader please

Anon? anon who is bass?? i couldn’t figure out who you meant so, here it is, i did it with ale ;)

Flowers

Alejandro Vargas x Reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, p in v, sex pollen, squirting, age-gap, another fic of Ale taking our virginity cuz we love that shit!

A/N: i actually loved writing this lol, it was fun. you know english is not my first language, so there might be some errors, but i hope y’all like it 💗

You don’t remember exactly what happened. The mission went wrong, and you followed colonel Vargas into the woods, trying to scape from enemy fire, accidentally running into some bushes full of strange colorful flowers that you had never seen before. Then it all went blurry.

Now, two hours later, you’re on base again, feeling really weird. Your whole body is sensitive, as if it has been set on fire, heavy breaths escape your lips and a thin layer of sweat starts to appear on your skin. How are you supposed to deal with it? you don’t even know what is going on, but you try your best to stay quiet while a nurse examines all your vital signs.

“You’re fine” she says after making sure that you don’t have anything that could possibly affect your health. “But it seems that you’re under the influence of some… natural aphrodisiac. So i’d suggest you to, y’know, relieve all that sexual energy, it will make you feel way better.”

Natural aphrodisiac? oh, so now you finally understand why your poor pussy is so wet, clenching around nothing and practically begging to be fucked. It makes sense. However, you don’t have a problem with masturbating a few times until the effects wear off. So you thank her, and then make your way out of the medical bay, walking straight to your own room.

But you didn’t expected to run into you colonel again. Those flowers should have affected him the same way as you, that’s for sure, what is he doing in the hallway? he should be inside his room, doing god knows what to help himself with that issue.

“Sargento” Alejandro calls you, forcing you to stop dead on your tracks, even though both of you are not in the mood for talking. “What did the nurse told you?”

“She said i’m fine. It’s just the effects of a natural aphrodisiac what’s making me feel so weird.” you answer, smiling at him, trying to play it cool. “Why? do you have the same?.”

“Si” he nods, but you don’t hear the rest, all of your concentration is now looking at his pretty brown eyes, his lips, his stubbly jaw, his broad shoulders, his strong arms in that tight shirt, and that obvious bulge inside his cargo pants.

He’s always been a good looking man, you won’t deny it, but right now? he’s fucking sexy, radiating a strong masculine essence that makes your knees go weak and the heat in your belly grow more intense. Almost as if you were a bitch in heat.

All of your shyness is gone, and before you know it, you’re grabbing his hand to guide him into your room, not even caring that he’s way older than you, a colonel who is supposed to be your superior. The arousal clouds your mind, not being able to think about anything else than getting pounded by him all night until you can’t remember your own name.

And Alejandro knows he shouldn’t be so eager to fuck his sergeant, but how can he tell you no when you look so pretty and so damn needy?

Once you’re both inside, with the door locked and the lights on, he pins you to the wall, kissing you passionately as his big hands roam your clothed body. Something new to you, considering the fact that you had never been touched by a man before this.

Should you tell him that he’s about to be the your first sexual experience? maybe, but you don’t wanna ruin the mood, so you just let go, feeling your tongues dancing with each other, running your hands over his strong chest.

But, as much as you’d love to keep kissing, the heat caused by the aphrodisiac is now unbearable, forcing both of you to pull apart and take your clothes off. And it could be part of the effect of those annoying flowers, but when you finally see his muscles, his tan skin covered in sweat, and that big veiny cock springing free, your mouth waters and your pussy throbs, clearly enjoying the view.

“Like what you see, mi amor?” he asks teasingly, and you just nod. “Cause i really do, who would have known my sergeant had such a pretty body? huh?”.

Now that Alejandro sees you all exposed for him, admiring every detail of your being, he’s sure that you’re the most beautiful girl he has ever met. If he had known what was he missing on, he would have pushed you into those bushes way earlier.

You don’t really know what to do next, you’re flustered and too inexperienced, so when he notices your hesitance, he gently guides you to the bed, telling you to lay on your back and relax.

Alejandro kisses your neck, and then slowly goes down to your tits, playing with your nipples between his teeth. It’s almost like a torture, you want more than that, involuntarily bucking your hips to get at least a little friction, anything.

“Just fuck me already, please” you beg in a high pitched voice, desperate to feel him inside you.

“Such a needy little whore” Alejandro says, mocking your pathetic cries. But you don’t care, even less when he drops to his knees, prying your legs apart to have a good look at your perfect pussy before devouring it like a starving man.

He licks and bites at your slick folds, savoring the sweet taste, dives his tongue into your hole and goes up to your clit, sucking hard. It feels really nice, better than any of those times where you played with yourself at night, and it’s not long until you’re moaning, feeling that familiar knot in your lower belly while tugging at his dark hair.

You cum easily, arching your back off the bed, almost crushing his head between your trembling legs. But that doesn’t stop him, he keeps eating you sloppily until you ride out that first orgasm.

When you come down from the high, Alejandro is already on top of you, holding your legs on his shoulders, guiding his cock to your tiny wet hole. And, without a warning, he slides inside on a singular hard thrust, making you scream at the new sensation.

He’s big, so the sudden stretch is a bit painful, but once you get adjusted to his girth and he starts moving slowly, your pained cries turn into whimpers filled with pleasure.

“F-faster Ale, please, ah- god-“ you moan into his ear, going literally stupid on his cock that you can’t even say a simple sentence.

“Yeah? you want me to destroy this pretty little pussy?”

He starts thrusting harder, pounding your tight heat in the most delicious way, hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over. It’s good, way too good actually, and you can’t help but writhe under him, digging your nails on the nape of his neck.

Another orgasm is near, you know it, and he can feel it too by the way you’re clenching around his cock.

“That’s it, preciosa, you’re taking me so well” Alejandro growls, one of his large hands going down to find your clit, rubbing it fast in circular motions. “Cum for me again, come on.”

His words, mixed with the stimulation and the way he’s ramming into you, is just what you need to see stars. You come undone once more, feeling the intense pleasure in every inch of your body, moaning so loud that probably the whole base heard.

“Fuck, look at the mess you made” he says, looking at how your sweet juices are coating his abs and pubes. Did you just squirted? hell, that’s new, you didn’t knew you could do that.

Alejandro doesn’t take long to reach his own orgasm, thrusting a few more times until he’s cumming inside, filling that pretty pussy of yours with his thick seed as he bites your neck, letting out an animalistic grunt.

You both stay like that for a minute, too fucked out to move, catching your breath. And you’re feeling better, but the effects are still not gone at all.

“That was amazing” you say, stroking his beard, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “Can we do it again?.”

“As many times as you want, preciosa.”

#alejandro vargas smut #cod smut #alejandro vargas x reader #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic

[standfucker]

Finding Out You’re Stronger Than Them - Logia Edition (Smoker + Ace)

Feeling very stuck with my WIPS lately, so I decided to try my hand at a bullet-point style drabble. Ace’s and Smoker’s went fine, but Crocodile’s and Kuzan’s immediately grew into something too big for a bullet point list and will be posted separately, if I can get them to a point I’m happy with. Have these two for now.

CW: Just a little bit of violence

Ao3 Link

Smoker

You’ve been rising quickly through the ranks. Smoker’s heard that you’re strong, but by the time you get assigned to him, he has yet to see it for himself.

You’ve followed all of his orders thus far, and past reports on your behavior are generally positive, so when you block him from chasing a pirate one day, he’s taken by surprise.

“This one’s innocent. I saw it for myself. He’s trying to support the village.” You get into stance, eyes blazing with defiance, fully ready to take on your captain.

“It doesn’t make a difference,” Smoker says. “He’s still a pirate.”

“He only stole from nobles. People who wouldn’t miss the wealth. It makes every difference.”

“Get out of the way.”

“No.”

He turns into smoke to go around you, but you grab at where his ankle would be, your haki forcing his body back into shape, and swing him into the ground with such force that stars dot his vision as the wind is knocked out of him.

No one told him you could use armament haki.

“I’m stronger than you. Don’t get a big head because you’re my superior. I’ll surpass you soon.”

“I could have you court-martialed for this,” he gasps.

“Then do it. See if I care. That person was innocent–I know I did the right thing. I don’t give a shit about your opinion,” you pause, then add, “Captain.”

You crouch next to him as he struggles to sit up, still dizzy from the brutal impact. Picking up his cigars that have fallen, you dust them off before sticking one back in his mouth and putting the other in yours. You take an experimental puff, wrinkle your nose at the taste, and deftly twirl the cigar between your fingers. He finds himself staring as you exhale, smoke curling around your profile.

“I requested to be transferred to your unit because Tashigi told me you were different from the others,” you say, and pop the second cigar into his mouth as well. “So don’t disappoint me, Captain.”

The blush on his face is from indignation, or that’s what he tells himself. It’s the audacity. You have some nerve to talk to him that way. To lay your hands on a superior, to obstruct the law.

And yet. He shouldn’t, but a part of him–a big part of him–can’t help but admire your conviction. Enough so that he doesn’t report your insubordination.

It’s always refreshing to find a soldier who thinks for themselves, but it’s also dangerous if you cross the wrong superiors. (God forbid you talk back to someone like Akainu, which Smoker knows you would do without hesitation.) 

Smoker will have to keep an eye on you, to make sure you don’t get into trouble you can’t get out of…

Ace

One day, Ace realizes that in all the months since he’s officially joined the crew, he’s never seen you fight, not even to spar.

When he asks Marco about it, he says, “Oh, that’s because of the collateral damage, yoi.” Ace thinks Marco is joking and laughs. Marco does not.

But can you blame Ace? You’re one of the gentlest pirates in the fleet. You’re the kind of person who stops crewmates from squishing bugs, and who’s so stricken by the dead dogs at the end of your novels that you cry for days afterward (getting to hold you when you seek him out for comfort rules, but why you keep reading those, he does not know.)

After a battle with an enemy crew, one in which you don’t participate, Ace asks some crewmates why you abstained.

“Same reason Pops doesn’t join the small fights,” Haruta says. “Too messy, you know?”

“Wait, just how strong is Y/n?” Ace says, now realizing Marco was being serious earlier.

“Don’t worry about it, Ace,” you say behind him, making him jump. “Just know I’m stronger than you.”

That stings his pride, enough so that he challenges you to a friendly match while crewmates exchange glances.

“Sure, after you’ve rested from this fight. I’d hate to have a handicap.”

“I’m not tired! I can take you right here, right now.”

“Right now?” At Ace’s nod, you shrug. “Well, okay then. Here I go!”

You vanish.

He can’t sense you anywhere. By the time he figures out you’re behind him, it’s too late. One of your hands wraps around the back of his neck, the other on the hem of his pants. When he can’t escape by turning into flames, he knows you’re using haki.

You proceed to slam him face-first into the deck so hard he breaks straight through it, stuck upside down in the wood. The crewmates on the floor below blink up at him.

“You challenged Y/n, didn’t you,” one of them says.

Once his head stops swimming, Ace pulls himself out. His nose is broken and bleeding and he’s covered in scratches and splinters, but he’s looking at you with a newfound sense of awe.

“Logia types,” you shake your head, lip curling, “always so full of themselves.” Then you look stricken. “Oh, I hurt Moby again... Pops will scold me…”

And, look.

Ace knows what he likes. He’s not ashamed to say he found the whole thing extremely hot, but he has the decency to keep it to himself. (Literally the entire crew could tell, but no one tells Ace that either.)

He can’t stop thinking about the fight (if it could even be called that.) He stays awake at night, picturing the way your mouth moved when you said ‘Logia types,’ the little smirk afterward. He had always liked you, but now there’s a newfound aspect to his attraction, and he’s down bad.

Ace wants to know even more about you after that, asking you about your history and how you learned to fight. Luckily, you don’t mind the attention, and your humoring him feeds into his ego until he’s practically following you around in his free time. The rest of the crew takes notice, teasing him about being your shadow–but you never complain, so why should he care?

You've been spending lots of time together since then. He keeps fantasizing about saying “my partner can kick your ass” to people, but he hasn’t actually asked you out yet. It’s unlike him to be so gun-shy, yet every time he works up the nerve to ask, he only gets as far as “Hey, Y/n?” before your sparkly-eyed, saccharine “Yes, Ace?” crumbles his confidence to dust. But he’s Fire-Fist Ace, damn it! He faced Pops alone to save his crew, so why is this so difficult?

If he asks the other Division Commanders for help, expect a Looney Tunes style sequence of each one suggesting a courting method and it failing spectacularly and going up in literal flames, until he finally gets so frustrated with the whole thing he ends up just shouting his confession.

Bonus:

“There, there,” Ace says, patting your back while you cling to him and sob into his shoulder. “It’s just a stupid book.”

That was the wrong thing to say. With your emotions already running high, your misery shifts to rage in an instant.

“YOU JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND THE BOND BETWEEN A KID AND THEIR DOG BECAUSE YOU ATE EVERY ANIMAL YOU ENCOUNTERED GROWING UP!!” you wail, then hiccup, sob, and bury your face into his chest.

Ace wisely decides not to point out the food scarcity of his home island. There are better times, and at least you’re holding him tight...

#one piece imagines #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #smoker x reader #smoker one piece #portgas d ace #one piece x reader #zen writes

[nosesitter]

Boss!Joel Miller

3.3k words

boss!joel you’re out on the town, looking slutty, 6 vodka crans in, your tits are practically out, walking all sloppy, talking very loud and who do you run into? Your very hot boss Joel who’s only ever seen you in business attire.

a/n: I think I have a thing for having sex in trucks this is second time I’ve written about that. I love some mean Joel love me some mean men that I can make cum and then they start acting right. Going to be writing part 3 of helpful Joel miller just need to think some more. Pls interact, reblog, comment and tell me what you think I love feedback!!

⚠️: mean!joel, name calling(baby,slut,whore), reader is drunk as a skunk, alcohol consumption, public semi voyeur, p in v, spanking with a belt!!, choking, finger sucking, sex in a truck, Joel has a truck that has those blinding headlights, thick dick Joel, SMALL cum play, m!receiving oral, swallowing cum

As the seconds slowly count down to 4 o’clock you’re sitting at your desk thinking about how you’re going to lie to your boss so you can leave work early, it’s your friends birthday and you just want to go home get ready and pregame. It’s not a problem for you to lie, but to Joel? Nah, something about your boss makes it extremely hard, seeing him just makes you want to tell the truth, get on your knees and beg for his forgiveness. Your boss, Joel Miller, is extremely attractive, always wearing the tightest button down shirts to show off his broad shoulders and sculpted muscles in his arms. It’s very contradicting whenever you walk into his office and he’s just man spreading, yelling questions about the assignments he’s given you. Slacks bunching around his thighs you just wanna lay over his lap and have him spank you until your skin is blistering red, begging him to stop.

As you’re sitting there, 5 minutes into the new hour, trying to think of lies and finishing up the latest project that Mr. Miller has given you your office phone rings without having to look at the caller ID you know it’s your boss. “Yes sir?”

“Come into my office we have to talk about your recent turn in.” The last assignment you’ve turned into him was about 30 pages long and contained all his business contacts organized by the most recent ones he’s worked with. You tried to organize it more better but Joel was on vacation so you used your best judgement with handling it but sounds like it was wrong.

As you walk to his office you stop by a big glass window. You can see your reflection and take this time to straighten yourself out. A lot of the other ladies in the department you worked in wore very low cut blouses and tight pencil skirts. You just wear an all black blouse, slacks, and cardigan. He has made comments about the way you dress, especially here in Texas he almost expected you to show skin around the office just like the others but they do that for his attention. You already have his attention unbeknownst to you.

“Just come in!” He bellows out from the other side of the door. You push the door open and there he is sitting behind his desk for a change while a younger looking man stands next to him. “Please take a seat.” He says through gritted teeth, he seems upset. The younger one begins to talk.

“My names Tommy, I’m Joel’s younger brother. We were just going over the assignment I gave Joel last week and looks like it wasn’t done by Joel it was done by you.” Tommy says coming over to sit right next to you. Everyone in the office knows Joel slacks off, but turns out his brother and superior didn’t know about that. Your gaze shifts to the older Mr. Miller and he’s just rolling his eyes at his brothers choice of words.

“It was fantastic! I absolutely loved how you set it up and so did a lot of people higher than me.” He tells you happily causing the anxiety in your stomach to settle and your shoulders to relax as you soak in the compliment from the younger nicer brother. He leans forward and sets his hand on your thigh.

“We’d love to get you up here in your own office, working right alongside Joel and I.” His brother is also very attractive but he doesn’t have that ruggedness and frightening edge like Joel. Tommy’s thumb is rubbing small circles into the side of your thigh. Joel notices this.

“We can get you moved in right now-“ The older one begins talking again but you cut him off. He also notices that.

“My grandma needs me to help get her from the hospital-“ you stand from your seat and try to distance yourself from the angry looking older brother.

“Please go, I’m pretty sure we can get someone to help Joel move your things into the office next door.” Tommy is very nice, handsy, but nice nonetheless. You begin to excuse yourself from the room but not before looking back at Mr. Miller who waves you off angrily from behind his happier younger brother.

——

It’s 9 o’clock by the time you finish getting ready. Knocking out some errands beforehand so you’ve had time to relax before getting absolutely hammered. You’ve decided on some tight black pants and a black lace corset. Definitely a change from your normal clothes but you’re celebrating so you can look slutty for the night.

Grabbing your wallet and phone you head out to the Uber you’ve ordered and head over to the strip of night clubs near your apartment. When you get there you can see all your friends at the first club on the block. With that y’all start the night off.

——

It’s 30 minutes after midnight and half of your friends have gone home. It’s just you, the birthday girl, and her friend. They keep talking about wanting to go home but you’re at that point where you could have another drink but you know it’ll be a bad idea but it sounds so fun.

“I’m going to another club!” You’re slurring your words so drunk you can’t even think about anything else. As you’re stumbling to the next club you hear your name being shouted probably your friends yelling for you. You show the bouncer your ID and once again your name is being called from outside. Ignoring it you head right in and straight to the bar

“Vodka cran!” You yell to the bartender and he goes right to making the drink. As you’re standing there waiting for the drink an arm comes around your waist. You follow the hand to the body and it’s Mr. Joel Miller. You stand there for a moment and just stare at him. He’s wearing a silk shirt the first three buttons undone, gold necklaces sitting so pretty on his neck god damn he looks fucking good. No one breaks eye contact as the bartender puts the drink in front of you along with the bill. Joel sets his debit card right on the counter then leans forward, his beard scratching the side of your cheek, lips right on your ear. It feels wrong but it sends electricity through your body. You’ve been caught by him.

“How’s grandma?” You can hear the condescending tone in his voice. He’s enjoying seeing you act dumbfounded by his appearance here. You grab your drink and just walk past him heading to the patio best believe he’s following behind. Feeling the cold night air hit your face to take a breath and a big sip of your drink to regain the drunk confidence you desperately need to get through this.

“This definitely looks bad and I’m sor-“ He’s not paying attention to anything you’re saying but instead staring you down with intense sexual hunger. All those times he’s yelled and put the fear of god into you for not getting work done faster fades away as he sees your nipples poking from behind the lace of your top.

“You should wear stuff like this at work, I’d be in your new office everyday baby.” His fingers reaching out to touch the lace that’s stuck to your chest. He knows what he’s saying and doing is highly inappropriate and you could definitely get him fired for this but you have to admit the attention sends a lighting bolt of feelings to your core causing you to clench around nothing. You take another big sip of your drink.

“You man spreading while yelling at me is inappropriate, how can you scold me and not expect me to feel turned on seeing you like that.” People walking all around pushing the both of y’all closer together. His right hand moves forward to grab your waist. His touch causing goosebumps to rise of your skin from excitement, brown eyes blown out with lust he can’t keep his eyes off your chest. He takes the nearly drink from your hand and finishes it off, he sets it to the side and leads you closer to the speakers, you can feel the bass in your chest and your tongue in your throat as Joel takes your hand with his big one. The both of you facing each other standing near the back under red flashing lights. He guides your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his damp neck hair.

One of his hands searching for your bare skin, the spot between your corset and band of your pants, you feel extremely hot he can definitely feel the heat radiating off your body as his other hand moves down from the strap on your shoulder and over the curve of your fleshy breast poking out of the lace cup. You can feel yourself clench around nothing again the feeling you have in your clit is numbing. You want nothing but his big tanned hand on you rubbing circles while his salt and pepper beard scratches your neck.

The music is so loud it’s deafening only focusing on each others wondering hands. A bold feeling probably from the alcohol comes hurling up from you, causing you to pull yourself into Joel’s lips. There’s no hesitation from Joel whatsoever he welcomes your cranberry stained lips and vodka flavored tongue into his mouth. Both his hands sneak into the band of your pants and over the curve of your ass brushing past your thong his hands so greedy for skin to skin contact he just wants to bruise your skin, hot flesh spilling through the gaps in his fingers as he kneads your ass. Pressing yourself onto him you can feel his erection stop against your zipper. He feels extremely thick you couldn’t imagine him inside of you.

You break away from his mouth and attach your lips to his neck, salty from sweat you couldn’t care less. You can feel the vibrations in his neck from him groaning, it makes you excited and you immediately want to hear more. Grabbing his hand again you head to the exit door that leads out into an alley. The cold air hits your skin and you catch your breath but not for long as Joel pulls you out the alley and down the street into a parking garage.

He skips the elevator and pushes the emergency stairs door open and leans back against it to stop anyone else from opening it. Joel’s hands go straight for his belt pulling the buckle off then pulls the whole thing out from the loops with one forceful pull.

“Pull your pants down and put your hands on the rail.” There’s no doubt you’re wet. You can feel yourself spill over the small surface of your thong and onto your thighs it’s all too much and he hasn’t even began to touch you fully. You comply without a second thought pulling your pants down under your thighs. Joel hissed at the sight before him he leans forward from the door and walks closer to pull at the top of your thong causing the strap to snap back onto you. His hand coming down and grabbing your ass, jiggling the skin with the contact. He had you so relaxed with his touch that you almost forgot about the belt in his hand. Until he spanked you with it. The sound of leather on skin makes an echo all through the stairwell. A soundless scream leaving your lips it brings you back to reality. Brings you back to your dick boss with his hands on you leaving welts on your skin in a public place.

“I’d rather have you over my lap but that can wait till next time, sweetheart.” He grabs your pants and pulls them back up for you then motions for you to start walking. As you walk out of the stairwell and into the more public eye Joel digs in his pocket for his key and points it at his truck. The bright lights come on causing to to turn your head and shield your eyes. Before you can touch the door handle Joel sneaks up behind you and wraps his arms around your neck turning the both of y’all around.

“Let’s not waste any time, get in the backseat with me baby.” He pulls you back onto him and his hard cock then opens the back passenger door no one can see what you’re doing but they can definitely see the pairs of feet standing over each other under the door. His right hand going to your neck making your head fall back onto his shoulder. Left hand is heading for your screaming core. Your clit begging for his rough fingers to rub circles into it.

“Fucking slut, look a’cha dripping for me?” He’s so damn cocky, having you in a position like this and still being so mean. His middle finger moving from your clit to dip down and gather more of your wetness. He growls into your neck as his two middle fingers push into you causing you to moan out and clench around him. Joel moves his hand from your neck to your lips shoving his middle finger into your mouth making you suck it. Tongue swinging around the digit. His two fingers curving up into the squishy part of you, so much stimulation at one time you squeeze your thighs together feeling his hand squish in between them.

Both of his hands rip away from your body and push you up into his backseat, your body falls backward onto the seat he uses this to take your pants off tossing them behind you and then climbing into the truck. He slams the door and squeezes past you his hands going quick for his zipper. As you’re sitting up you look at his cock that he’s pulled out already, so girthy, looking at it sobers you up a little. His head leaned back against the seat, eyes hooded as his hand strokes himself. Pulling his hand away he opens the palm and spits right into it not breaking eye contact with you.

“C’mon baby, hop on.” He looks intoxicating like this, so desperate looking begging for you to be wrapped around him. Swinging your leg over his lap and lowering over him he holds himself steady as you sink onto him. You look at his face as you lower but he’s looking at your hungry cunt stretch over him making his cock disappear into you. Your clit makes contact with the patch of black and gray pubic hair and it makes your sensitive clit tingle. You can hear his legs unstick from the leathery seats as he lowers down to hammer into you. Bracing for the beating your pussy is about to get you grab his shoulder and the handle above the door.

“Princess too good to bounce on my cock, havin’ me do all the work.” His accent so thick he’s staring to slur his words together. His hand slaps your ass as he stops moving and just lays there.

“Ride me don’t make me ask again I won’t be nice.” You don’t dare disobey him you need to cum you lay back onto the drivers seat and move your hips in slow motions, he’s buried deep inside of you the tip of his cock hitting deep squishy areas and the girth of him stretching you so nicely. It’s steaming inside his truck precipitation all over the windows, every once and a while a car passing by shining their headlights into the truck no doubt seeing what’s going on even shielded behind the drivers seat.

Joel’s hands pulling the cups of your top down ripping the lace in the process. His fingers pinching and pulling your nipples. This causes you to clench around him. A intense chilling sensation ripping right through your lower abdomen.

“Oh shit my cock poking through stomach .” Joels a mumbling mess he can’t even make coherent sentences with you clenching so hard around him. His warm hand goes flat above your pubic bone as he presses on himself with your organs. You lean forward, hands going to his cheeks and lips smashing into his, and begin to use his cock for your own pleasure. The truck is shaking no doubt, people walking past drunkly to their cars cheering as they see steam covered windows and your loud moans coming from the vehicle.

Your thighs are shaking as you bounce on him moaning through the pain as your knees begin to buckle your hands grabbing his hair and pulling it in different directions. “I’ma cum inside you!” He’s loud, breathy and moaning his words into your skin. You can feel him gush inside of you feeling him coat your insides with his seed. It happened so hard you can taste the feeling of his spent in your throat. Bodies sticking to each other, you’re dripping wet causing his leg hair to stick and mat against his thighs. He leans forward and grabs a water bottle from the middle console behind you.

You lift yourself from his lap and wince as he falls out of you. Sitting right next to him you can feel the mixture of each others cum dripping out of you. “Not on my leather seats, whore.” Joel says and moves his hands over to slip a finger inside of you pushing the combination of spent back into you. His finger having no effect on your stretched walls the way his dick did. You see his limp dick twitch a little in his lap and decide to give it a kiss. Opening your mouth and giving the tip an open mouth kiss you can taste the tang of the both of y’all on your tongue. Joel gives you a little groan as you mouth lowers over him cleaning his cock off. He twitches inside your mouth as he hardens again. His body so sensitive to his release that he begins to clench his thighs and jerk his cock deeper into your mouth.

P-please, baby stop ill cum again I know it.” You decide to push him to his limit after all those times of him giving you stupid work that was his all along you keep sucking hallowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around his shaft. It’s not long before his hand presses on the back of your head and he’s sputtering what little he had left into your mouth. He’s gasping now, immediately soft in your mouth you pop off and swallow what’s in your mouth.

“When you come in Monday morning I’m bending you over my desk and eating you out.” You sit there proud with yourself and your actions and for once excited to go into work.

————🥴🤭😈

reblog, like, and validate me🫶🏻

0711

#joel miller smut #dark joel miller #mean!joel miller #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal smut #the last of us #joel x female reader

[thefloorisbalaclava]

love on the brain [simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader]

▸pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader ▸words: 3,362 ▸warnings: illness, lovesick ghost, kissing, making out, simon makes up his own little game of hide and seek, the balaclava stays on ▸summary: simon doesn't do feelings... until he does.

▸a/n: i just wanna kiss him.

⋆masterlist⋆

Ghosts had secrets. Plenty of them. Hell, even his face was a secret. But there was one that he considered his deepest.

He was in love.

You would never guess it by looking at him; he had his mask to thank for that. His self-consciousness stopped him from saying many words to anyone outside of a mission. And just being around you made him feel like all the wrong words would come out.

He wasn’t much of a romantic and couldn’t even remember the last time he was in a relationship. What was he even supposed to say to you?

“Hey, Lt.” Your voice was like music to his ears.

“Evenin’,” he said gruffly.

“What are you doing out here in the rain?” you asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.” His palms were sweaty, and he was happy you couldn’t see them.

You shrugged. “I guess I just like the rain.”

“Yeah, so do I. Helps me clear my mind,” he said.

“Am I bothering you, sir?” you asked, worry filling your tone.

“Not at all. I’m actually surprised you found me.” There were all sorts of places he went to be alone, and no one knew about them.

No one except for you.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone else about your hiding place,” you said, and he believed you.

“How did you find me?” he asked.

“I have no idea. Maybe fate brought me here.” You looked out at the view in front of you. He looked at you, heart beating faster.

“Bollocks,” he scoffed. “You actually believe in that?”

“We gotta believe in something, sir.”

He hated that you called him sir. It reminded him that he was your superior and his feelings for you were beyond inappropriate.

“You can call me Simon, you know,” he said.

“Simon,” you said quietly, to hear how it rolled off your tongue. You smiled at him. “It’s a lovely name.”

“It’s not,” he said, “But thank you.”

“Do you ever let anyone compliment you?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just…whenever I say something nice about you, you find a way to downplay it,” you said.

He felt like such an idiot. He was hurting you and didn’t even know it.

“I’m sorry. I’m not used to it,” he confessed. “I’m sorry if I…made you feel bad.”

“You didn’t. I do the same thing. I guess it’s my way of deflecting. Sometimes my self-esteem makes it hard for me to take a compliment.” Your smile began to fade, and Ghost couldn’t have that.

“We should get inside before we both get sick,” he said, and it seemed like he was ready to end the conversation.

“You’re right. You came here to be alone, and here I am bothering you….” you sighed.

“No! I mean…that’s not what I meant. You don’t have to go,” he said.

Please don’t go. Please don’t go. Please don’t go.

The smile was back on your face. “Okay then. What should we talk about?”

Simon was still thinking about that night even as he lay in bed with a fever, runny nose, and cough. He was able to convince himself to stay in bed and rest, which wasn’t easy for him.

He nearly groaned when he heard the knock on his door. He put his balaclava on quickly and walked to the door.

“This better be bloody important,” he said, swinging the door open.

“Hey, sir…I mean, Simon.” You looked up at him and noticed something was wrong right away.

“Y-You…what are you doing here?” he asked in a raspier voice than his usual one.

“You too, huh?” you asked, and he tilted his head. “Sick?”

“Yeah. What brings you here?”

“I…uh…you know what? I don’t even know. It’s like my feet just brought me here on their own.” You gave him a smile that broke through his tough exterior and wrapped around his heart.

“Dunno if you wanna come in here with me bein’ sick and all.”

“I’ll leave you to rest. I need to do the same myself. Lots of fluids, sir,” you told him.

“Simon,” he sighed.

“Sorry. Simon.” You stood there and looked at him for a while. “Feel better soon.”

“You too, love.” He closed his eyes and cursed inwardly at the slip-up. If you heard him, you didn’t make it known.

A few days later, Simon was back to his usual self, and you were trying to be. As he made his way to your room, he rehearsed precisely what he would say.

Isn’t all this supposed to come naturally? He thought. Yeah, when you’re not head over heels in love with the other person.

He knocked on your door and tried to stand as naturally as possible before you opened it.

Your face lit up as soon as you saw him. “Simon! Hey.” You rested your head against the door.

“How’re you feelin’?” he asked.

“Eh, could be better,” you admitted.

“Is there anything I can do?” He put his hands on either side of the doorframe and leaned in.

“You’re sweet, Lt. I’ll be fine, though.” You didn’t need this man doing anything else to make you fall even more in love with him.

“Oh…” He was disappointed, to say the least.

“Actually,” you started, and he stood up straight again. “Would you mind bringing me some tea? You’ve made some for me before, and it was fantastic.”

You like his tea.

You like his tea.

It was a silly thing to gush over, but he felt his face getting warm.

“I can do that for you,” he said. He turned and walked away.

“Hey, Simon!” you called out, and he turned to look at you. “Thanks.”

“What do you need two cups of tea for?” Soap asked. “Still not feelin’ well, Lt?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” he said. “This is for—” He froze, and a knowing smile spread over Johnny’s face.

“Ah, I see.” He smiled smugly.

Simon sighed and walked off. He hoped the tea would still be hot enough by the time he got to you.

You were dozing off when he knocked on your door. You stood excitedly and walked to the door to open it.

“Tea,” he offered, and you took a cup.

“I would ask you to come in, but I’m probably still contagious.”

“I’ll come in if you like. I don’t mind,” he told you, hoping you’d let him stay.

“Okay, come on in.” You closed the door behind him and hugged yourself as you walked over to the sofa and tried tidying it up.

“What are you doin’?” he asked.

“Cleaning up,” you said.

“You don’t have to do that. You’re not feeling well,” he pointed out.

“I know, but….”

“Don’t,” he said, nearly reaching out to touch your hand. “Sit and drink your tea.”

“Sir,” you said playfully before sitting down.

He stood in the middle of the room awkwardly. “How’s the tea?” he asked.

“It’s perfect. You make it?”

“I did, yeah.”

“You can sit down.” You pointed to one of the chairs. You doubted he wanted to sit on the same couch as you.

But he walked over slowly and sat beside you. You looked over at him and smiled.

“What?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to sit so close.”

“Why not?” he asked, turning to you.

“Well, no offense, but you like to be alone…you don’t seem to like getting too close to anyone,” you said. You hoped you hadn’t said too much or overstepped a boundary.

“I don’t,” he started, “But I make exceptions now and again.”

“And I’m an exception? Wow, I feel special,” you said before taking another sip of tea.

“You are special,” he said. He took a sip of his tea casually. “Look, I have to tell you something, and I don’t want you to say anything until I finish. Just listen.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“When I say you’re special, I mean it. I…feel something whenever I …look at you. To be honest, I’m not sure how to manage this,” he confessed. “I want to protect you; I don’t want anything or anyone to hurt you…ever.” He looked at you when he said that.

“Simon…”

“Not done. I think I’m in love with you, and I’m not quite sure what to do about it,” he finished. “You can say something now.”

“In love?” you asked, and he nodded.

“Yeah. Is that…bad?” he wondered.

“Why would it be bad, Simon?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know anything about it.”

“You do. I think your mind is so full of a sense of duty that it’s hard to focus on anything else.”

“You may be right,” he admitted.

“I am right,” you said with a smirk.

“You see…when you look at me like that….”

“And when you look at me, Lieutenant...”

“What?” he asked.

“I love your eyes,” you told him. “There’s something in them that makes me feel safe.”

“What are you sayin’, love?”

“I’m saying I’m pretty much in love with you, too. Tea’s getting cold, Lieutenant.”

“Fuck the tea. What did you say?”

“I’m in love with you, Lieutenant. I know it’s wrong, and I know you’ll go on about how wrong it is, but—”

“The rules don’t matter. I’d break every single one if it meant you’d be mine,” he said.

“If I weren’t sick right now, I’d kiss you.”

He looked down at your lips. “Save it for me, hm?”

“I don’t think you understand just how…hot that is.”

“Hot?”

“Yeah, like…sexy,” you said shyly. “Your voice, eyes….” You were leaning in closer to him without even realizing it.

“Anything else?” he asked, ending up in his own daze.

“Um…you…you…Simon…”

“Yeah?”

“I’d like to kiss you, but….”

“You’re sick, I know. I can wait,” he said.

“You can, but I don’t know if I can.”

He chuckled. “You’re impatient.”

You laughed. “You’re always saying that about me.”

He leaned in even closer. “Drink your tea, love.”

“Wow, Lieutenant, you’re a tease, I see.” You took a sip of tea.

“Pardon?”

“A tease, sir. You’re a tease,” you repeated.

“I haven’t done anything…yet,” he said quietly.

You pointed at him. “See? Tease!”

“I ain’t trying to be.”

“You don’t have to try, Lieutenant.” You both sat in silence for a while.

“I want you to call me Simon,” he told you. “I don’t want to be sir or lieutenant around you. I want to be me. I want to be Simon. Just Simon.”

“Okay, Simon.”

“You told her! Yes!” Soap shouted.

“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny…” Ghost murmured. “Any louder, the whole base will hear you.”

“Sorry, just happy for you, mate. It’s about time, Lt.”

“Yeah, but…not much has happened yet. We’ve, uh, we’ve drank some tea together,” he told Soap.

“That’s it?” Soap asked.

“She was sick, Johnny. Besides, I’m a patient man,” he said. Soap cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“She’s better now, so…I’m thinkin’ about taking her for a proper date, but….” His words trailed off.

“But?”

“I don’t know what…I mean, it’s been a long time since I’ve been out on a date.” He was trying his hardest to avoid what he really wanted to say.

“Are you askin’ for my help, Lt.?”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Lt., she’s already head over heels for you. There ain’t much more you have to do. I mean…you do know how to kiss, right?” Soap asked, and Ghost threw him a glare.

“Of course, I know how to kiss….”

“If you need practice….” Soap puckered his lips, and Ghost was about to slap him over the head when you walked in.

“Am I interrupting?” you asked, smiling brightly.

“Yeah, I was about to kick Johnny’s ass,” Ghost said.

“Oh, okay, well, I’ll ask this quickly then. Simon, would you like to see a movie with me?” you asked.

Both men froze. You couldn’t see the look on Simon’s face, but Soap was beaming. He looked at Simon and then nudged him.

“What he means to say is yes, lass.”

“Simon?” You wanted to hear it from him.

“A movie? Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay, great!” you said excitedly. “See you later.”

“Later…tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah. Is that okay?” You looked at him.

“Yeah. Are we going off base or what?”

“Yup, if it’s okay, sir.”

“It’s fine. Time?”

You looked at your watch. “1900 hours?”

“Sounds good to me,” he said. You nodded and walked out.

“Guess it’s time for a crash course,” Soap said.

He walked downstairs, and there you were, waiting for him. You turned to him and smiled.

“Punctual,” you said.

“Always, love.”

You moved closer and wrapped your arms around him. “Thanks for this.”

“What? Did you think I was going to say no?” he asked.

You shrugged. “You could have.”

“Listen, I’ve been through some of the hardest situations, but saying no to you would be the hardest thing I’d ever have to do.”

You looked up at him. “Do you know how badly I want to kiss you right now?”

“Save it for the end of the date, hm?” He tapped your chin gently, and you nearly sighed aloud.

“I’ll try,” you said.

“Are you going to ambush me with kisses or something?” he asked.

“Don’t put it past me, Simon.”

As you got into the car, you could only think about kissing him.

The date went off without a hitch. Simon was a gentleman—you weren’t expecting anything less—and you behaved yourself.

The tension in the car was palpable as he drove back to the base. The tension in the elevator seemed to grow even stronger. You watched the numbers change—2, 3, 4—Simon is on the fourth floor.

The elevator dinged, and the door opened. He walked toward the opened doors, and you thought he was going to step off the elevator without saying a word, but suddenly you felt a firm grip on your wrist, and then he was pulling you along with him.

He moved so quickly for such a big man. You looked up at him as he guided you through the hallways, turning here and there before finally stopping in front of a door.

You were both slightly out of breath as he unlocked and opened the door. The lights were off, but Simon walked through the place as if he knew it by heart.

Of course, he did, you thought.

His room smelled clean as if you’d expect anything less from him. There was also a hint of his scent in the air. It was a scent that you could never quite place. Tea, for sure, but something else was there that was purely him. The man had his own musk.

“Come to me,” he said, voice cutting through the darkness. You went in the direction of his voice. “I’m here, love.” Wait, now it sounded as if it was coming from somewhere else.

“Are you moving?” you asked.

“You tell me,” he said, and you closed your eyes. “Over here…”

You whipped your head around. “Simon…”

“Yes?”

You kept your footsteps light and your ears open like he always told you. You listened for any change in the air. Humans radiated heat. Simon especially.

“Simon,” you whispered.

“Yes, love.” He was directly in front of you. You reached into the darkness and felt his broad chest in front of you.

“Good job, soldier,” he said with a hint of amusement. “Give me your hands.” Your eyes were adjusting now, and you could just see his hands. You placed yours in his.

He held them gently and moved them up until you felt the fabric of his balaclava.

“Go on,” he said. He dropped his hands and allowed you the honor of moving his balaclava. You felt your way, making sure not to lift it any higher than his nose. Even in the dark, he deserved to keep his secrets.

You felt around. He had a strong nose and lovely cheekbones. You felt a long, somewhat smooth line going from his cheek and over his lip, and you gasped.

“It’s all right,” he said, “Don’t hurt anymore.”

You could feel his warm puffs of breath on your hand, and you were tempted. You slowly moved your fingers to his jaw, which was covered in a sprinkling of newly growing hair.

Then you were touching his lips. They were soft and full. You felt them move and noticed that he had kissed your fingers.

“May I kiss you, Simon?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he said. He met you halfway, and when your lips met, it felt as though the room lit up, but it was still dark. He stumbled back a bit, overcome by the feeling of your lips. Once he had his footing again, he deepened the kiss and walked you backward carefully.

Not once did you bump into anything or stumble until the backs of your knees hit a sofa. He guided you down carefully, putting a protective hand behind your head so that you wouldn’t land too hard.

“Kiss me again, Simon,” you breathed.

“Say it again,” he said lowly. He was right there—his nose touching yours.

“Kiss me again…Simon,” you whispered, and he did with a slight moan. He loved hearing you say his name.

The kiss became a little needier with tongue and teeth and a need to be closer. He pressed his body against yours, and you melded to him, wrapping yourself around him so that he wouldn’t move away.

He began kissing you teasingly—a peck here, a peck there—he wanted you to chase his lips. You whined, and you swear he chuckled.

“Don’t do that,” he said quietly before lowering his head, so his lips were against your neck. “Save those whines for another night.”

Those words were full of promise and a hint of lust that shot right between your legs. It was almost as if he knew because he swirled his hips against you. He was slotted perfectly between your legs, so you felt the friction in the perfect place when he moved his hips.

“You’re such a good kisser,” you moaned before he and his tongue swallowed up your words.

“I could kiss you for the rest of my life,” he admitted. “Give me your tongue.”

You stuck your tongue out, and he swirled his around yours before sucking it.

“Mm!”

He pulled off slowly. “Like that?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer—his lips were on yours in a flash.

You pulled away and kissed along his jaw. When you worked your way down to his neck, he shuddered. You continued along his neck, and he turned to give you access. You latched on just below his ear, and he pushed his hips between your legs hard.

“Like that?” you teased.

He was practically rutting against you now. “Hush,” he said before kissing you again.

You slid your hands down his body, and he pulled away from the kiss to stop you.

“Not tonight,” he breathed. He moved your hand to his face. “I just want to kiss you tonight.”

“Sounds perfect.”

He kissed both of your cheeks before moving to your lips. “I can’t remember the last time I kissed someone…like this,” he said.

“Me neither.”

“Is it okay?” he asked.

“Is what okay?”

“That I just want to kiss you,” he said, his lips brushing against yours.

“It’s more than okay,” you told him, giving him a quick kiss.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, nuzzling your neck.

“So are you, Simon. Thanks for going out with me tonight.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that, love. It was my pleasure.” You could tell he was needy for more kisses because he kept giving you little kisses here and there.

You initiated the kiss this time, claiming his lips as your own.

Tonight was the night you realized that you never wanted to kiss anyone who wasn’t him.

Tonight was the night he realized that after all that time not kissing anyone—he was waiting for you, for the right one to kiss.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley x reader #fic #headcanon #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley call of duty

[salsasvault]

I don't write often but this au has just been sitting in my brain ever since i watched an ep about border security and i need to get it out.

nsfw below, mdni

airportsecurity!ghost + airportsecurity!price x reader

tw: abuse of power, non-con elements, /f!reader/ 18+

It was standard procedure, any sort of suspicious activity needed to be investigated, and it just so happens that was the very flight you were on. Boarding was easy, and the flight was surprisingly pleasant too, a contrast to the intense anxiety you’d felt before the trip, so really everything after that should be a breeze.

Walking into Heathrow Airport gave you a sense of excitement, the trip to London that you had been thinking about finally coming to a reality. 

With your carry-on behind you, you made the walk toward the exit, thinking about the trip to the hotel and where you’d eat lunch. As you made your way toward the walkway however multiple TSA agents were blocking the way, the passengers ahead of you already being questioned with their passports in hand. 

You let out a quick breath, steading your nerves, this is unusual but then again what do you know about London and their security measures? Trying to suppress the number of anxiety-inducing thoughts, you make your way to one of the available officers. Dressed in a black outfit, name tag reading Riley, in all caps, you look up to meet his eyes. He speaks first.

“Just need to see your passport, and ask a couple of questions.” 

“Yeah, no problem! Just give me a second.” You quickly reply, hoping to not raise any suspicion, you really had no reason for him to be suspicious at all but a situation like this left you even more anxious than normal. 

Fishing through the handbag, you were thankful for keeping your passport handy, hastily pulling it out, to not waste any more of his time, you hand it over to him. 

“Thank you.” He flips it open, glancing at your picture, date of birth, and other information

You silently cringe at the almost 3-year photo old, you haven’t quite mastered the art of government pictures yet. 

“And where’ya headed love” 

“Just out to London.” You keep your voice steady, trying to keep a sense of calm. 

“Alright, you here on business? What’s the reason for your visit?” He glances up at you this time, handing your passport back to you. 

You slide it back in your bag while giving him your answer. 

“Just here to visit, always wanted to see London.” You say, letting out a nervous laugh at the end of that. 

He nods his head. “Are you meeting anyone?” He asks tilting his head. 

“Uh yeah, my dad, he flew in earlier, a couple of days ago.” 

You respond hoping that this little interaction would be over soon, you weren’t sure how much longer you could chat with a man that looked like him while maintaining composure. Sure he was an officer, but by god was he a good-looking one, you internally scolded yourself for that remark, he’s just doing his job, and thinking about him like that is very wrong. Besides these are highly trained men, so the chances of him knowing you're attracted to him are higher than normal. Of course, normal people probably can't tell.

“A couple of days ago, separate flights?” He questioned. 

“Oh yeah. he got a really good deal for the 7th and I was supposed to be on that flight with him but I couldn’t get my time off for that date, hence why, the later meeting.” You gave him a timid smile, gesturing slightly with your hands, hoping that answers any of his questions. You were truthful and didn’t say anything to raise suspicion, so really you should be able to go so you could then blush profusely at the close contact and his accent. 

He glanced back at what seemed to be his superior officer, receiving a nod from him you assume you’re in the clear. That was until he opened his mouth.

“Okay, I’m just gonna ‘ave you come back with me, for a couple more questions.” 

Your heart dropped, swallowing you gave him a an awkward smile. 

“Yeah, yeah no problem.”

“Follow me this way.”

You followed him as he led the way, the nervous thoughts that had so far remained in check started to spring loose. What if they falsely accuse you of something and you can’t prove you didn't do it? God, you had just watched a documentary of a man who spent 30 years in prison for something he didn’t do, what if the next movie’s about you? Cringing internally, you shove everything away, focusing on remaining as calm and composed as possible. 

//

Simon knew they had already apprehended the suspect, they received a tip from the JFK airport that there may have been someone smuggling some form of narcotics, and it was their job to search for them. Stopping passengers was not a common practice but Simon’s done his fair share. Ask the usual questions, confirm their passport, and look for any details that may give anything away. 

When you approached him, the only free officer, he felt something stir in his stomach. A young thing, innocent looking, fresh off the plane. He knew you were most definitely not the suspect they were looking for, nonetheless, he proceeded with the standard procedure. 

After hearing the first words come out of your mouth, he immediately turned to glance at Price. Both sharing the same look he went back to the task at hand. Pre Deciding they couldn’t just let a pretty thing like you escape from their grasp. He listened to every word you said, a small smirk playing at his lips from the nervousness that lightly dripped from your voice. Poor girl, all alone, being stopped in an unknown country, he could feel the anxiety rolling off of you no matter how much you tried to hide it. 

So when he knew he was just about done and ready to take you back, he gave Price one last look, a sly smile tugging on his face, and a nod following. Nothing felt as good as watching you slowly pale after he told you he’d need to bring you back for questioning.

//

Sitting in the chair opposite to, what looked to be one of the two officers' desks, you bounced your leg up and down. Your luggage tucked in the corner, your phone in hand as you waited for either of them to arrive. You unlock your phone sending a quick text to your Dad, telling him you were caught up with security and they just had some questions to ask you. In return you receive the classic Dad response, a single thumbs up followed by a: “Don’t worry, you’ll be out soon.” Your Dad, ever so helpful. 

When the door opened you stilled glancing back to see both men enter, the previous officer, Riley, and a man who looked just slightly older than him, name tag reading Price.

You mentally sighed and cursed at your luck, not only were you stopped for extra questioning but of course as fate would have it both officers had to be stupidly good-looking.

If your underwear started to gain a slight wetness to it, it definitely has nothing to do with them.

Officer Riley locked the door behind him, going to stand in the corner as his superior moved to sit behind the desk. 

“I’m Officer Price, we just ‘ave a couple o’ questions to ask ya.” He clears his throat, his demeanor straight to the point.

You glance at his hands, folded on the table, we you wait to answer anything he throws at you. 

"You said you were meeting your Dad?" He waits for confirmation looking back down at the paper.

“Yes, He flew a couple days ago.” He shifts.

“Alright, now ma’am, I’m going to be honest here, we were alerted by JFK that there was someone who was potentially smuggling drugs.” He glances up at you before returning his gaze to whatever was on his paper. All the while Officer Riley’s eyes burn holes through you. Your eyes momentarily flicker to his before you return your gaze to the man sitting in front of you. 

A small “Oh” was all you could manage, if your heart could drop any further, it did. Your heart rate slowly rises, you know you didn’t smuggle anything, but the thought of being put away for something you didn’t do sat heavy on your mind. 

A cute little thing you were, sat fidgeting in front of Price, each word coming out of his mouth made you shrink. He could practically feel the anxiousness oozing off of you. No fret, you’ll feel better soon. He knew that none of this was necessary, all for show so he and Simon could have their way with you. If they were on their own personal lunch break you wouldn't know, he continued, explaining what would happen next. 

“I’m just going to have Officer Riley here search your bag if that’s alright.” He voices, he looks down at the same sheet of paper, and then raises it back up to look at you.

“Yeah! That-That’s no problem.” You sit in your seat as you watch Officer Riley move to grab your luggage, mentally going through anything in there that could raise concerns. 

He lifts the suitcase, setting it down on the metal table tucked in the corner. Unzipping it, he opens it, revealing your clothes and the various little bags you made to separate your toiletries. He goes through the clothes, sifting through each, one by one, unfolding and rearranging. He lifts a pair of your black lace underwear, holding it up and inspecting it. 

Your cheeks burn, your face hot in embarrassment.

Once he’s satisfied with the extent he’s searched, he closes the bag, zipping it back and placing it on the floor. 

“No issues detected Sir.” 

“Good, alright following protocol were gonna ‘ave to search ya.” His scouse accent trickling through. 

You felt another wave of heat and embarrassment and hint of wetness flooding you. Rendered a little you speechless, you nod. Answering finally,

“I-okay, you-okay.”

Officer Riley from his position in the corner.  

“ Need ya t’a spread your arms for me, move those legs apart too-yeah just like tha'.” 

He really had no reason to sound so sexual for something as tame as a search. You did as told though, following his orders. His hands roaming across your body patting down any areas “necessary”, you chalked off the extra time he spent on your breasts and crotch to another ‘simply doing his job’. Once the search was over he straightened up, telling his superior that it was all clear. You finally let out a breath, hoping to be let free.

“Last step and we’ll send you out, I’ll be conducting a strip search.”

At this point whatever forces that were out there were torturing you, you could no longer hide the wetness pooling inside your underwear. And the shock running through your body made sure you were unable to form words. You gave a nod in replacement to the stuttering alternative.

He walked you over to the table where your luggage had just been, bending you at the waist. As your heart rate picked up, you then open your mouth. 

“I’m sorry-but is this really necessary, I mean I’ve never committed any crime, like ever, and my suitcase is clear I-”

“Just do as you're told, if you have nothing to hide you should have no issues.” 

You quickly close your mouth as his hands pull your pants down roughly, pooling at your feet. Your underwear clinging to you, the wetness apparent. He continues his “search”, pulling at your underwear, letting it fall alongside your pants. 

You squeak out a sound of embarrassment, eyes filling with humiliation. He presses up against you, fingers moving up and down your slit. The faintest groan could be heard, from who, you weren’t sure. 

“Fucking dripping.” He lets out a chuckle, as you go to protest. Before you can get anything out however he shoves a finger inside. 

Your eyes screw shut, as he thrusts his finger into you, adding a second to join in. 

“Part of the procedure, sweetheart.” 

You let out small breaths, the faintest whines following after, as you tried to conceal your noises. He hits a spot inside you causing you to choke out a gasp. Price lets out a noise of approval, choosing to then continuously hit that spot. 

“You-” you let out a small moan, as he rubs around your g-spot, your brain short-circuiting. 

“What’s that? You gonna ‘ave to speak up love.” He taunts, relishing in your embarrassment. 

He continues his ministrations, his other hand coming to roughly rub at your clit. You can’t help the small moans that leave your mouth, as you try to hold them back.

“Oh fuck-”

You hear Officer Riley move toward you, manhandling your body so your splayed at the corner, backside facing Price while, face level with his crotch. He crouches down slowly to meet your eyes. 

“Be as loud as you want lovie, no one can hear ya.” He probe his finger in your mouth, as you keep it clasped shut.

“Have t’a search it, part of the procedure.” 

Price hits that spot inside you harder, causing you to let out another moan, mouth opening for him. 

“Perfect.” He groans out, fingers pushing your tongue down. 

“Where ‘ave they been hiding ya?” He smirks, standing to unbutton his pants, a noise of surprise is let out by you, muffled by his fingers. 

Left hand singularly undoing his belt. Shoving his pants down, stopping at his knees.

His cock springs out, thick and large, your eyes widening at the sight.

Price behind you pulls his fingers out abruptly, helping you regain some consciousness you open your mouth to protest at the man infront of you.

Your actions however, are interrupted by the thick length being shoved inside you from the man at your backside.

“Have to be thorough.” He lets out a laugh, dark eyes feeding off the sight of you. 

You choke a sound of surprise, as he almost immediately starts a brutal pace. The man in front of you speaks.

“You're gonna be a good girl for me, open up nice and wide.” He clicks his tongue.

You shake your head until Price drives into you especially hard. Mouth opening in surprise.

“That’s it, good girl.” You gasp around his length, being fucked into by the pair of them. 

Price chimes in from behind.

“Look at you, such a good girl letting two officers fuck you, making sure she’s not causing any trouble.” He reaches over to rub at your clit, fingers moving in quick circular motions. Both of them rocking into you at a brutal pace. 

You feel yourself approaching your climax, with muffled moans and cries. 

“Can you feel clenching around me sweetheart, be a good girl, come on my cock, that's it.” He groans, his pace speeding up as the other approaches his climax as well. 

After a harsh rub to your clit you come, body shaking as tears leak from your eyes. Price continues his thrusts, as you inadvertently suck him in, the little whines vibrating around Simons's cock. They both finally come with a low groan, thick salty liquid coating your tongue and insides as you struggle to swallow. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” The man in front of you moans out. 

They both slowly slide out, leaving you boneless on the table, as you whine out at the movement.

“Quite the mess.” Price comments, a dark laugh following from the man in front of you. 

You make an exhausted noise in response. Quite the mess indeed. 

#simon ghost riley x reader #john price x reader #salsawritesforonce #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley smut #john price smut #captain john price x reader #cod mw2 #cod smut #john price x reader smut

[zionworkzs]

Okay, but I need to talk about Good Omens and The Sound of Music.

First of all, I’m genuinely obsessed with it being explicitly canon that The Sound of Music exists in the GO universe and is, for some reason, God’s favorite movie. Neil says here that Heaven misses the point of the movie/musical, but I find it incredibly fascinating that Aziraphale outwardly despises it. 

Brief summary of The Sound of Music incoming as well as some really interesting parallels:

So we've got Julie Andrews playing Maria, who is studying to become a nun in an abbey in Salzburg. Problem is, she isn't the best nun, and is often late to chapel and just isn't the shining beacon of holiness that the rest of the nuns expect her to be.

In response to this, the Reverend Mother of the abbey decides to send Maria to live with sexy widower Georg von Trapp, a navy captain who desperately needs help with his seven children. The Captain is a bit of a hard-ass since the death of his wife, and has been treating his kids like little soldiers as well as banning music from the house.

The 7 kids are rambunctious and make things difficult for Maria at first. But one night, a thunderstorm scares them, and they run to Maria for comfort. The kids realize that Maria is really fun, and then later, when their dad is off to Vienna, the kids and Maria end up running around Salzburg singing, dancing, climbing trees, and having a blast.

When the Captain comes home and hears about this, he sends Maria away. But then he overhears the children singing a song Maria taught them and he gets all emo and remembers how much music meant to him and his late wife. He asks Maria to stay after hearing the song, telling her she's brought joy back to their house.

And oops, Maria and the Captain are falling for each other, but the Captain is sort of kind of dating this blonde bombshell.

There's a big fuck-off party, and the Captain and Maria dance together.

But, oh, no, Blondie saw them and can clearly tell they're in love. She tells Maria what she's seen and Maria is freaking out cause she's just realized she's in love.

Mentally, my girl Maria is going through a lot. She thinks she’s disappointed God by falling in love when she was supposed to be doing a job. She feels scared by the depth of her feelings and because of all these emotions, she runs away. Back to the Abbey. Back to presumed safety.

Mother Superior figures out what happened real quick and tells Maria that she isn’t wrong for falling in love. She sends her back to the Von Trapps, and it's such a great scene. If you wanna watch, I included a link below.

Maria goes back, and the kids are elated and she and the Captain confess their feelings (and oh my god, don't even get me started on the lyrics to the song they sing to each other while confessing, Something Good).

(I’m unwell.)

So that's the Sound of Music. There's a subplot going on with WW2 and the Captain being pressured to join the Nazi regime (which he is very against). King, we love him.

I pointed out some obvious parallels, but I'd also like to pull some random thoughts together here:

Mother Superior (God) is the one that sends Maria (Aziraphale) to help the Von Trapps (humans) in the first place.

Maria (Aziraphale) extends grace and patience with the children (humans) and refuses to give up on them, even going so far as to disobey their father by letting them fuck around and be kids (going against God's wishes and giving humans the flaming sword).

Mother Superior (God) also sends Maria (Aziraphale) back to the Von Trapps after realizing that Maria (Aziraphale) is in love with the Captain (Crowley).

Here's to hoping we see God telling Azi that loving a demon is chill and he should go back to earth in S3.

Overall, it's incredibly amusing to me that Aziraphale, our Aziraphale, doesn't like The Sound of Music, with the main plot being about a woman who choses love over religious obligations and a man who rejects an authoritarian regime so that he might make his own way in the world.

Maybe Aziraphale recognizes the parallels and is in denial. Or maybe he just prefers Sondheim...

#can you tell i watched the sound of music too much as a child #fuckin love this movie #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #good omens #aziraphale x crowley #good omens season 3 #good omens meta #good omens season 2 #the sound of music #Youtube