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meownotgood · 2 years

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arrival in tokyo / hayakawa aki

Aki has found you insufferable from the moment you were paired up together. It's bad enough that they're forcing him to work with a damn devil, but you happen to be the most disobedient, irritating devil he's ever met. You seem to have quite the attitude, and brats like you ought to be put in their place.

pairing: hayakawa aki x fem!reader

word count: 23.2k

tags: 18+, smut, exhibitionism (aki fucks you in an alleyway), light degradation, praise, pain play (aki puts his cigarette out on you), begging & teasing, face-fucking, thigh-fucking, spit kink, fingering, choking, 1 (one) spanking, pet names (good girl, baby, etc.), aki is a bit of an ass, he punches you in the face once

this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.

I want you two patrolling the south district all afternoon. I know you're not thrilled about this, but please, try to get along. I better not see you two fighting, understand?

Oh, and Hayakawa, take a back seat today. If anything happens, just let them handle it, alright? Don't worry, I know they are more than capable.

Those words seem to echo inside Aki's head, resounding with every heavy step he takes, with every loud clack of his shoes against the pavement.

Just let them handle it? Why? Is he not fit to do his own job? He isn't helpless or weak, far from it. The squad he leads is one of the strongest in the prefecture, dammit. There's no way a brand new recruit, someone so irresponsible, bothersome, mindless — There's no way someone like you is stronger or more capable than him. That's ridiculous.

You should be listening to his instruction, stepping back and allowing him to handle things, like a subordinate ought to do. Honestly, it's best you just quit right now, because if you're not going to do that, there will definitely be some serious problems.

Speak of the devil, your voice stirs Aki from his thoughts: "Sir? Can you slow down? You're walking really fast."

"No. Keep up or I'll leave you behind." Aki snaps back.

The city is rather bustling today. People walk about, cars on the street inch forwards in the afternoon traffic, and the whistles of trains can be heard in the distance. There's a light breeze that wafts through the air, tickling the hair on the back of your neck. The sun beams down, warm heat radiating off of the concrete sidewalk.

You've never been to Tokyo before — or any big city, for that matter — so the atmosphere is totally unfamiliar to you. Various storefronts are busy with shoppers. The walkway is crowded as tons of people commute from place to place. Skyscrapers stretch into the clouds, to the point where you have to crane your neck to look up at them. Wow, and you thought Public Safety's headquarters were huge.

With the way the man in front of you is rushing though, there's no time to enjoy the nice weather, nor take in any of the sights. You have to keep your eyes glued to his back if you want to stay at his heels and avoid getting lost in the crowd. You definitely didn't expect to spend your first devil hunting patrol sightseeing, but still, it would have been nice not to rush around everywhere.

Aki Hayakawa is who you've been assigned to work alongside today, and he seems… interesting. Besides the woman you talked to earlier, he's the only devil hunter you've met so far, and he doesn't exactly give the best first impression. Respectfully, he's impolite. And to put it bluntly, he's kind of a stuck-up ass.

When you first met him, he didn't even say hello to you, nor bother to introduce himself. He just looked down on you with an annoyed expression on his face that only seemed to worsen the longer you met his gaze. When he spoke, he acted as if you weren't even there, talking to the woman in front of you like he couldn't care less that you're standing right next to him. I'll work with them for now, but after today, I'm done. I'm tired of getting paired up with trouble-makers.

Trouble-maker? You? Oh, come on. You're not that much of a nuisance… Probably.

He's awfully up-tight, too. As you were both walking out of the Public Safety building, you were asking him questions: Hey, sir, what's it like working at Public Safety? Do you like it here? What devils do you have contracts with? There's a sword strapped to your back, is that what you use to fight? Hey, which do you prefer, ramen or udon?

And he gives you straight to the point answers: It's fine. Yes. That's classified. Yes… And can you stop asking me stupid questions like that?

Interesting, inscrutable, and cold: those are the best words you can think of to describe him. Cold like a sharp breath of winter. The type of cold that makes trying to get closer to him feel like trekking through the flurry of a heavy snowstorm. He's kept his eyes forward the whole time you've been walking, refusing to spare you any kind of glance. If you try to talk to him, all you receive in return are dry responses.

You know he's your senior, and from what you've heard, he's supposedly an avid devil hater. It's not difficult to assume why. With these dark and brooding types, it always tends to be the same story. Some kind of complicated revenge plot, or something like that.

The woman from before — Makima, was that what she said her name was? — told you that you were a special type of person, one who isn't human, nor devil. Hybrids, they're calling it. Supposedly, it's a rare sort of phenomenon. Hardly anyone has seen it before, and most people don't even believe it's true.

Before Makima found you, you spent your whole life living out in the country. There's not many devils there, so subsequently, not many devil hunters. Besides what you heard in rumors and passing stories from the city, you were oblivious to the topic. Makima had to explain everything to you, and even then, your powers were still a total mystery.

You still don't fully understand how to use them. Makima told you it'll take some practice, so stick with Hayakawa for now until you're able to get the hang of things.

You might find him difficult to get along with, She said, But he's one of the most talented devil hunters I have working with me. I think you two could learn from each other.

You didn't exactly want to become a devil hunter either, but Makima was the one who convinced you. Actually… she says the only way you'll be given any rights is if you're under her protection. Otherwise, it's fair game for you to be hunted as a devil. So you wouldn't exactly say you had a choice.

Well, it's pretty safe to assume that's why Hayakawa doesn't like you. If people are willing to hunt you as a devil, then you're sure they must see you as one, too. Out in the country, nobody seemed to bat an eye, but the city seems to be full of lots of die-hard devil haters. Unfortunately, you doubt you'll be able to change his mind on that; people from the city are always set in their ways.

Maybe he feels annoyed about being forced to work with a devil, especially one his boss implies is stronger than himself. You can bet he's still thinking about it, fussing over what Makima said, and if it's actually true. To be honest, even though you're sure he hates you, he doesn't seem like the type who's always a dick to everyone, just to those who happen to tick him off. There might even be a sweeter side to him in there… somewhere. Who knows.

Either way, he's definitely interesting, and although he can be annoying, he's fun to observe. You want to find out more about him, if you're able. Besides, if you're going to be working with him, for however long it might be, you figure it's a good idea to try to understand him. As best you can, anyways.

You've noticed that everything about him, from the way he looks to the way he talks screams professionalism.

You threw on your uniform haphazardly, but Hayakawa has his suit buttoned perfectly, tie tucked in neatly, collar of his dress shirt straightened exactly. His hair is tied up nice and tidy, showing off a pair of simple earrings. With every word he says, he sounds sure of himself. His voice has a certain deep, smooth vibrato that makes you feel commanded to listen to it. You haven't seen him fight, but you can imagine how precise he'd be with the sword that's strapped to his back.

He's handsome. He'd totally be your type, if he wasn't so pretentious. He's a smoker. You saw him smoking a cigarette outside the Public Safety building when Makima first led you in. The way he carries himself implies he's decently strong, probably more so than he appears. And he's also —

"Listen up," Your attention is pulled back to Aki when you suddenly hear him open his mouth, "If we see a devil, step back and watch me handle it the right way, got it? I don't need you making a mess for the cleaning crew when your powers end up going haywire…. Are you even listening right now?"

"Mmmmm… Nope," You reply, "You're gonna have to repeat all that."

Aki sighs in annoyance, "When I say something, I'm not saying it because I want to hear myself speak. Listen when I'm talking to you. Can you not even do that much?"

"Geez, I heard you the first time, calm down. I was just playing around."

"Then repeat what I said." Aki commands.

"Don't fight the devils, don't make a mess, blah blah cleaning crew."

There's a few seconds of silence. It's almost like you can hear his eye twitching in irritation, the bridge of his nose knotting up as his temper rises. Finally, he says, "Just… Stay out of my way."

He also happens to be pretty fun to mess with.

You chime from behind him, "Whatever you say, Lieutenant."

There's something about Aki that makes it both extremely easy to get on his nerves and very entertaining to do so. Your existence alone seems to be enough to get under his skin. When you make a joke or poke fun at him, he falls for it every time. If he really wanted to shut you down, he could easily ignore you, but he has this sort of complex about him that makes it impossible.

It's a constant struggle, where he feels like he has to have the upper hand, the authority over you. Where he feels like in every situation, he has to be correct, and you have to be the one proven wrong.

If you say go left, he'll say go right. If you say go slow, he'll say go faster. Someone like him, who's cold, diligent, and sensible should be totally incompatible with somebody like you, and in many ways, you are. But that just makes you want to get closer to him, to shatter the expectation and have him come to understand you just as much as you want to understand him.

Aki Hayakawa is clearly the type of man who strives to achieve his goals by any means necessary. He's determined, but doesn't seem egotistical, which makes him intriguing. You think he seems like the type of person who has his own sense of justice, his own tightly-knit morals. He follows the orders that are given to him and sticks to his principle. In short, he's the type of person who doesn't understand how to have any fun.

It'd be amusing to chip away at that, you figure. To get him to go against those values, to see him choose the immoral route instead. Being forced to work alongside those he swore to kill, to get revenge on, a devil, would probably be the first step.

So as much as he is difficult, and as much as he is a total hard-ass, he's also fun, you conclude. It's fun to wear down his serious exterior, to see him when he strays away from his usual poker-faced expression. It makes you wonder just how far you can push him, what else you can manage to get out of him. At what point would he finally break? When would that stern, rule-following demeanor finally snap, and what would happen when it did?

You've quickly found yourself trying to do anything to create sparks, to bring some sort of heat to that unshakeable cold. Aki makes it almost too easy, because whatever you say or do seems to immediately put him in a bad mood. That's why as you've been walking behind him, you haven't just been sightseeing. You've been formulating a plan.

You overheard Makima when she was giving him orders; Aki was given specific instructions not to kill you, not to fight you, and to let you handle any problems that occur. You're sure he's got to be dying to defy those, to put an annoying brat like you in your place.

You're going to figure out just what makes him tick. You'll find something that'll really piss him off, and then, once he snaps, you'll have won. Even if he thinks he's the one with the upper hand, if you can get him to defy the rules, to live a little, everything will have gone according to your plan. You thought being a devil hunter would be nothing but boring nonsense, but maybe now, things will start becoming entertaining.

He thinks you're some sort of trouble-maker? Then a trouble-maker is exactly what he's going to get.

"Hey, sir, I wanna know something," You ask him, speeding up a little so you're walking closer behind him, "Why do you hate devils so much?"

Aki's reply comes quickly and point-blank. "None of your business."

"Oh, come on. Just tell me."

"No," Aki says firmly, "Stop asking."

Your lips form into a subtle pout. "If we're gonna be working together, we should try to get to know each other, right? Why won't you just say it?"

"I have no intentions of getting to know you."

You pause for a moment, realizing you've hit a dead end. It seems like trying to get him to open up about anything is a no-go. You need something you can work with, something that's gonna give you a bit of leverage over him. If he doesn't want to play nice, that's fine. You have to change your approach, and there's one thing you think will work perfectly.

"Hm, well," You muse, "I want to get to know you. Tell me, would you say you're a strong devil hunter? Or a weak one?"

Aki scoffs, "What's it to you?"

"I just wanna make sure I'm working with someone who's on my level, not someone who's gonna hold me back."

There's a slight pause, before he replies, "The civilian sector is where weak devil hunters operate, not here."

He's avoiding the question. Are you touching a nerve, is he insecure? You might just have him with this.

"I don't think that's true, and you know why?"

Aki doesn't respond, waiting for your answer. You give him a moment to simmer, to try and figure out what you're going to say next. His arms are held uniformly behind his back, and you can see his hands start to tighten, his knuckles start to tense. You're glad he's not facing you, because if he was, he'd see the shit-eating grin plastered all over your face right now.

"I think Public Safety is filled with nothing but weak, useless devil hunters. I know 'cause… I'm looking right at one."

Aki abruptly stops in his tracks, and you nearly bump into his back when he does. He turns around on his heels, and for the first time since you left, you're looking right at him. His eyebrows are furrowed tightly, the bridge of his nose is crinkled up, and he's eyeing you up and down with this look of utter disgust and contempt.

Yeah, you've really done it now, but you can't shrink away just yet. You have to keep pushing, 'til you get him right where you want him.

"What the hell do you know about me?" Aki says, and the tone of his voice is much angrier than before, much harsher. You're aware that you're making a scene now, stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, with people walking around you, giving the both of you dirty looks.

You can't pay any attention to them, you have to keep focused on Aki. Don't look away from him, don't show that you're at all affected, otherwise this won't work.

You reply, "You seem pretty weak to me, and what that lady said before confirms it, does it not?"

"I'm not weaker than you. You don't know the first thing about what makes a person strong or weak." Aki's eyes narrow as he examines you, his posture rigid.

"You sure about that?" You counter, straight-faced. "I heard what that lady said, she told you to let me handle things. So why did you tell me to let you handle it instead? You don't strike me as the type who'd disobey orders."

Aki steps in a little bit closer to you. With the way you have to look up at him to continue meeting his gaze, you're suddenly aware of how tall he is compared to you, his body casting a harsh shadow over your figure. He just about towers over you, in fact. It gives you the feeling that to him, you must be small and meager.

He utters his next words a little quieter than before, through gritted teeth, "Shut up. I'm your superior for a damn reason. If I tell you something, you listen and you don't question it."

"Oh, whatever," You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, "Superior doesn't mean anything if you're a weakling."

"You've got quite the attitude, don't you?" Aki leans over you, his voice sounding much closer to your ear, "I suggest you start watching your mouth, unless you want to have problems with me."

"Why don't you watch yours?" You keep your gaze locked on his, despite how difficult it is to meet his sharp stare. "You've done nothing but be rude to me since we've met, you know. I didn't do anything, I don't think it's justified."

"And you've done nothing but get on my last nerve."

You shrug, seemingly unaffected by his mood, but you feel the smallest tinge of regret, the slightest feeling of nervousness. For a second, you wonder if pissing him off this much is a good idea, but before you can contemplate it much further, you're already saying, "Not my fault you've got such a short fuse."

Aki brings his hand to your shoulder. He grips you hard, dragging you in. He's so close, mere inches away from your face; you can smell his fancy cologne, see the glimmers of spite that linger in his gaze.

When he speaks again, his voice is a low, strict murmur, "This is the last time I'm going to say this to you. I am your superior, and you're going to treat me as such. Start taking this job seriously and stop acting stupid before it gets you in trouble. Do you think I wanted to deal with your bullshit, to be forced to work with scum like you?"

The way he's scolding you, the deep and resentful tone of his voice: something about it makes heat rise to your cheeks, makes your heart pound impossibly faster. You feel embarrassed. There's a tight cord of anxiety forming in your chest — You feel like shrinking away from him, like you're suddenly the weak one in the situation. You were so confident earlier, but all it took was him reprimanding you like this for you to instantly regret what you just did.

You feel like telling him, I'm sorry, please, forgive me sir, because everything from him telling you off to the way he stands over you, expression unyielding, hand tightening on your shoulder — You feel overpowered, in every sense of the word. At his mercy. The pressure is building, but before you can look away, Aki tilts your chin up a little with his finger, coaxing you to keep meeting his gaze.

He leans forward just slightly more, and you notice now how he's speaking with his mouth mere inches away from yours. His lips look soft, they're parted a little, and although his tall frame in your vision is the only thing you can see, you know there's still people shuffling past. All these passerby, watching you get scolded like a child who's been naughty.

Aki continues, "The only thing I want you to do from now on is sit back, keep your damn mouth shut, and listen when I give you an order. It's not that hard to do, so quit acting like a brat and show me some respect, got it?"

You could do that, you really could step away right now. You could say you're sorry, and that would be that. But as much as the pressure is on right now, you still feel a lingering sense of satisfaction. He thinks he's the one in the driver's seat, but you can see it in his expression — His eye is twitching, his lips are pursed, his fingers are trembling ever-so slightly in frustration — He's going to snap. And you're the one who pushed him this far, who managed to get him this way.

Honestly, being pinned under his thumb like this, treated like you're lesser, getting him really, truly pissed — It gives you a sort of thrill. A certain kind of high feeling, like even though he's in control, he's the one scolding you, it still feels like you've won. You accomplished what you set out to do, did you not? You got under his skin enough to make professional, no-nonsense Aki stop working just to reprimand you and cause a huge scene.

This predicament of yours causes you to ponder the same thing you were dwelling on earlier, that same train of thought. How far would Aki go just to get the upper hand over you? What would he do to prove that he's right and you're wrong?

You know you shouldn't enjoy pushing his buttons like this. You're sure the logical option here would be to fall back in line. Go back to work, follow orders like you're supposed to. But where's the fun in that? You can push him further than this. He's nowhere near close to breaking yet, and you want to find out what happens when he does.

So, you say something you probably shouldn't — No, definitely should not say. Two little words that you know will piss him off more than anything.

"Or what?"

There's a pause. His hand is on you, his grip flexes, his body is so, so close. A brief stare-down, a deadlock that leaves you listening to the sound of your own heartbeat drumming hard in your chest, your mind spinning as you wonder what he's going to do, and what he's even capable of doing. And then —

"How about I show you, hm?" Aki stands up straight, peering down at you with an unreadable expression. He tilts his head, gesturing to the side, towards an alleyway that rests in between the tall buildings and crowded street corners. It's dark, and despite how much you squint your eyes, it's impossible to tell where it leads.

"C'mere."

Before you know it, before you even understand why, you're following him as he leads you deep into the alley. It's quiet, sort of dingy, cast in a dim, cool shadow. Far enough away from people that you can't hear them, but still close enough that you can see their shapes as they pass by the entryway.

You're walking into the alley deeper, further, and you're about to ask, "Hey, sir-" But before you can get out, What are we doing here? He cuts you off by turning around and grabbing you by the collar of your shirt, slamming your back against the brick wall.

Aki quickly has you caged in here, one hand tightly gripping your collar, the other placed firm on the wall beside your head. His knee slots into the empty space between your legs to trap you further, and he pulls you off the wall, dragging you forwards roughly by your collar until you're closer to his face. All you can do is sit there, limp, unable to move as he has you cornered. The impact of your back hitting the wall made your eyes shut involuntary, but you slowly open them now.

You can look at him a lot closer than before; you study his earrings, black and shiny, glinting in the low light. His jawline is sharp, his nose is pointy and defined. He smells like cigarette smoke and cedar, completely intoxicating. Pinned this close against him, with his eyes never leaving yours, you feel like you could drown in his gaze. He's looking at you in a certain way that makes you feel trapped, like he's looking at something inferior, something he owns.

Aki manages to somehow sound even more pissed when he speaks this time. "I don't know why you think it's acceptable to talk back to me, but you need to be taught something about respect, because clearly, you don't get what it means."

You retaliate, "I don't need to be taught shit from you."

"Apparently, you do. You fail to understand something as simple as respecting authority. If I was in your situation, I wouldn't be acting like this, I'd understand my place. But I guess you just don't get it." Aki's eyes narrow and his fist tightens on your collar. He keeps a resolute, level tone. "Miss Makima should have never taken you in, I think you're a lost cause."

It's difficult to speak with your collar choking you, Aki practically holding you up by it, but you still manage to spit out, "Huh? My situation? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You really don't get it, do you? I guess I have to spell it out," Aki scoffs, "You're a fucking devil, and devils are less than human. As long as you're a devil, you'll be my subordinate, that's just the way it is. You should appreciate that I'm kind enough to give you this much."

That word in particular, devil — The way he says it is laced with so much animosity, chewed up and spat out from his lips, like he hates even having to say the word. Like it's something about you, about this world, he absolutely, wholeheartedly despises.

Your hands reach for his, grabbing at his knuckles, at where he grips your shirt, but to no avail; he refuses to let up. His thigh slides further upwards until you're sat between it, and you can start to feel the slightest amount of friction between your legs.

You counter, "Well, aren't you nice. This is what you call kind? Treating me like shit, talking down to me like I'm some kind of animal?"

"The way I'm treating you is all you deserve. I could kill you right now, but I'm generous enough to let you live. If you knew what's good for you, if you were at all smart, you'd ditch the attitude and be on the ground, licking the dirt off my shoes."

"Nah," You shake your head, and despite your situation, even though it would seem like he has the advantage here, you still have a playful smirk growing on your face. This is it, you're winning. "That lady told you not to kill me, and dogs like you always do as they're told."

"Makima told me I can put you down if you try to run or disobey my orders. If you think your insignificant life means anything to her, you'd be dead wrong."

"Put me down, eh?" You cock an eyebrow, a dry laugh escaping your mouth, "Like you even have the balls to do that."

Aki taunts, "Yeah? You think so?"

"I know so."

After you say those words, everything happens in a matter of seconds.

You notice his grip on your collar flex before he twists, still holding onto you. He roughly flings you away from the wall, with enough force that you stumble and fall on your ass. You manage to push yourself up, Aki standing over you and watching, allowing you to shakily stand to your feet. You don't have time to prepare to fight, though, because the second you've got your bearings, the last thing you see is him cracking his knuckles before his fist connects with your face.

Fuck, he hit you hard. So hard you fall back again, all the way until you're on the ground. You can feel blood welling at your split lip, and you taste it on your tongue, where you accidentally bit down. The concrete pavement is icy cold against your skin; it feels good, almost, helping to soothe the stinging in your cheek.

You really didn't expect him to hit you like that… Although, in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. Slowly, your senses start to return, the pain beginning to fade, but your daze is completely shattered when you feel Aki's foot come down on your face.

He steps on your head with what feels like his full weight, grinding your cheek under his foot like you're a doormat, shoving your face further into the floor. It's filthy: the way you're pinned between the bottom of his shoe and the dirty ground of the alleyway. There's the sound of steel scraping metal, his sword being drawn from the sheath, the low hum of his voice — Don't move. — and then, you feel the sharp edge of his blade on your neck. So close, one misstep or tiny movement from slicing into your skin.

Although your state doesn't make it easy, you're still able to see him in the corner of your vision; his expression deadpan, as if he's looking down at something far lesser, an insect.

"You didn't put up much of a fight, did you?" Aki taunts, his eyes examining you, "Only one hit to take you out? If you weren't a devil yourself, I'd say there wasn't a good likelihood of you surviving past your first mission."

You ignore him. "Get your foot off my fucking face."

Aki leans his head down a little. He's silent, and in the corner of your eye, you can see the way his jaw flexes, the way he gathers saliva in his mouth. Then, before you have a chance to react, a glob of his spit lands on the front of your shirt.

"Filth stays on the ground, where it belongs."

You wiggle a little under him, trying to see if there's a way to get up, but Aki responds by pressing the blade of his sword firmer to your neck. Now, if you move even a centimeter, it's sure to cut you. Aki addresses it: "Didn't I tell you not to move? You're going to end up hurting yourself."

Hurting yourself. Like he isn't the one holding the sword that's pressed to your throat right now. Like you're the one who caused this to happen, not him.

You sigh defeatedly, "This is pointless. We both know you're not gonna kill me, so just let up already."

"Of course I'm not. It isn't worth my damn time. Wouldn't be worth it to have to clean up the mess afterwards, either."

With his foot still pressed to your head and his sword on your neck, Aki uses his free hand to rustle through the pocket of his suit jacket. He pulls a thin cigarette from the pack, sticking it between his teeth. He finds his lighter next, and you can hear him strike the wheel with his thumb. One, two, three times, before there's a flame to bring the cigarette to life.

You're still slightly dazed, but the adrenaline is starting to overpower the hazy feeling. Your cheek is sore from where he keeps stepping on it. There's a slight, dull sting coming from your lip, and you can feel the blood starting to dry.

Now this, this is the most pathetic you've felt in a long, long time. Your lip split from where he hit you, his foot shoving your face into the ground, his sword on your neck, all while he nonchalantly lights his cigarette.

This is what it's like to lose against him, to genuinely find yourself beneath him, obedient. However, the most pitiful position you've been in since you met him also happens to be the most exciting.

That thrill from before: you can feel it now, even stronger. In reality, it never truly went away. You're annoyed, but your heart pounds in your ribcage, you feel fire under your skin. Your head feels fuzzy and light, like you're floating in fluffy white clouds, fogging up and obscuring your vision, making it harder to think clearly or rationally.

You should be done, you really should be done with this. The attitude, the quarreling. A sword to your neck should be the final straw. But should means nothing to you. Since when have you done what's correct, what you should be doing?

You said it yourself. Aki isn't going to kill you. The heart-racing thrill: you want it more, you can take more from him. This is the most entertained you've felt all damn day. The exhilaration is so fun to chase, and Aki is so, so easily toyed with.

There's a little smile tugging at your lips when you speak again, and you hope Aki can't hear it in your voice. "That lady told you not to fight me, did she not? I wonder what she's gonna say when she finds out you went directly against your orders."

Aki speaks in between the cigarette in his teeth, grinding his heel a little harder into your cheek, making you wince. "Do you want me to give you another thrashing, or are you gonna shut up now?"

"Tch. You're an asshole."

"Yeah, sure." Aki shoves his lighter back in his pocket, taking a long, drawn-out drag from his cigarette. The smoke spills from his lips as he tilts his head back and slowly exhales. Finally, he says, "What's your point?"

Your point? Your point is he's infuriating, impossible to get along with, and the most insufferable person you've ever had the misfortune of working with. Your point is that Aki is utterly difficult, and yet, he's the most captivating person you've ever encountered.

No-one has put you in your place quite like this before. Nobody has ever made you feel this overpowered, this pathetic. There's something exciting about Aki being the first.

There's elation, a thrill, in the feeling of being conquered by him, of having the power shifted away. And there's euphoria in the feeling of getting closer to him, when his hands were on you, when his mouth was just inches away from yours. There's a certain dizziness to the way he smells, to the way he effortlessly towers over you, to how physically strong you know he is, even though he holds himself back. The low, sultry lull of his voice goes right between your legs every single time he talks.

Perhaps you want to break him just as much as you want to be broken. The idea of getting closer to him, closer than ever before, beating all the odds stacked against you, is absolutely alluring.

Aki is a sworn devil hater, a model for professionalism, dignified and principled in every way. How amazing would it be to see him defy that, to make him want you, even though it contradicts all of his supposed values? He's been putting on this front, acting like he stand you, but the way he touches you even though he doesn't have to, the look of clear want in the back of his eyes that he's been trying to hide — Those things say differently.

So maybe there's something else, something more you can gain from this struggle. Maybe, just maybe, there's another way to go about this. There's a different approach you can take, one much, much more satisfying. It's high risk, high reward. You're really not sure if Aki — straight-laced, goody two-shoes Aki — would ever do something so indecent. Aki, who hates devils, who always follows the rules, and who has no idea how to enjoy himself. A part of you is sure this won't work, but if it does, if this pays off…

"You wanna know what my point is? Do you?" You taunt, finally breaking the silence between the two of you.

Aki fiddles with the hilt of his sword, causing the blade to tap gently against your skin. He replies simply, without any elaboration: "No."

"My point is I think you're compensating for something."

Aki snorts, "Really? You were silent for so long, and that's the best insult you can come up with? You can do better."

"I'm not saying it 'cause it's an insult, I'm saying it 'cause it's fucking true," You argue, speaking through gritted teeth. You're looking right up at him now, your gaze shooting daggers. Aki stares back with nonchalance, but also with a hint of curiosity, taking another lazy hit from his cigarette.

You continue, "Guys like you only act this way because they're compensating for whatever they don't have. Did it make you feel good to take your frustrations out on me? Why don't you toss me around a little more, it might make you feel even better."

"I wouldn't have needed to do this if you just followed my orders in the first place."

"Nope, this isn't about that for you," You wiggle a little bit under his weight, "This is about you wanting to take your anger out on a poor, defenseless devil."

"This is about me teaching you a lesson on discipline. Seems I was unsuccessful. You haven't learned a thing."

The blade of his sword, cool and sharp, presses further against your skin, shutting you right up. Your breath catches in your throat and you stare back at him, wide-eyed.

Aki holds his cigarette idly between his fingers, smoke rising up from the end. "You run your mouth way too much for your own good. For a 'poor, defenseless devil' you were acting real cocky earlier. What happened to that? You're the one who called me weak and useless. Now look at you."

Then, Aki leans over, resting his weight on his bent knee, on the foot still pressing your face into the ground. In a tone much quieter than before, he says, "So, are you going to be quiet, or should I shut you up myself?"

You eye him up and down. It's hard to breathe, hard to speak or even think, but you're just barely able to keep your guard up. You ask, "Are you going to answer any of my questions?"

"I don't think they warrant answers."

"Tell me, are you compensating for something? Or not?"

Aki scoffs, "Are we really still on this subject?"

"The fact that you won't tell me just means I'm right. You're probably a virgin, getting all pissy with me 'cause you're mad no girls will give you any attention."

You can see the way Aki's jaw flexes, partially gritting his teeth as he sternly commands, "Watch your damn mouth."

But you don't: "Is it fun to be Public Safety's measly little dog? I'm sure they keep you on a tight leash, never allowing you to have any fun. I bet you spend all your time running around, doing errands for that bitch, hoping someday she's gonna give you a chance. I'm sure that-"

You cut yourself off with a sharp intake of breath when you feel Aki press his blade into your neck. The pressure is only slight, but it's just enough to prick your skin. A thin rivulet of blood trickles down your neck, pooling onto the sidewalk under you, spilling from the small cut his sword created. Thump thump thump — Your heart beats faster, so hard you can hear it loud in your ears and feel it pounding in your chest.

Sword to your throat, his foot stepping on your head, your own blood spilled; your body is frozen, but your head feels high. And when you peer up at him through blurry vision slowly beginning to focus, Aki looks like he's about to fucking lose it.

Where his hand clasps the hilt of his sword, his grip tightens, his knuckles clenching. His lips curl into a scowl, his eyebrows furrow into a knot. He glares down at you with frustration, with a look like he wants you dead. This time, all he can manage is a choked, restrained, "Shut up."

Your breathing comes out much harsher than before, and your eyes nervously flicker across his form. There's pressure building in the air, in between the two of you, so tense it feels like it's weighing down on you. With a voice that comes out weaker than you intend, you mutter, "Am I right?"

"You're disgusting," Aki flicks his dying cigarette, scattering ash down, where it lands all over your clothes. "That's what you are."

"And you have a small dick."

In a single moment, with those few words, the cord of tension snaps — Aki swings his sword away from your neck and brings his foot off of your head. He takes a few steps back from you, then commands, "Get up, and don't make me tell you twice."

You're a bit weak when you move, your limbs numb from laying on the hard concrete for so long. Hesitantly, you sit up, brushing the ash from the front of your shirt with your palm, the fabric still a bit wet from where he spit on it.

Aki drops his cigarette butt on the ground, stamping it out with his shoe. You catch him sliding his sword back in the sheath strapped around his shoulder, muttering something to himself so quietly you hardly hear it. Something like, Can't believe I got your filthy blood all over it. Then, he grabs your elbow to yank you up the rest of the way, to your feet.

Aki holds onto you tightly, guiding you up against the wall, putting you in the same position he had you in earlier: his height dwarfing yours, his knee caging you in. One of his hands presses flat to the brick, beside your head, while the other moves to grab your chin, forcefully tilting your head up so you have no choice but to look him in the eyes.

There is it again — That sort of possessive look present in his gaze, framed by his messy bangs and heavy eyelids. He's close, so close, even more than last time, it seems like. If he were any closer, you're sure he'd be able to hear how much your heart is pounding right now.

Aki exhales a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back to relieve some of the tension there, before he finally speaks.

"Why don't you say what you said again? To my face this time."

The frustration and anger you felt from him earlier have all but disappeared from his voice, replaced by the smooth, scolding tone you've become plenty familiar with by now. You can hear his breathing, soft and controlled. You can see the subtle rise and fall of his chest. There's that intense pressure again, combined with heat, with the closeness between the two of you. With the warmth radiating off your body and his, made stronger by the animosity.

Once again, the balance has shifted, but not in the way either of you expect, not in the way it would seem. In reality, by bringing the two of you closer, Aki just did you a huge favor.

You answer, "I said you're Public Safety's mutt, and not a very good one, at that."

"And? What else?"

"And that you have a small dick."

Aki taunts, voice deadpan, "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Oh?" You huff a dry laugh, "Is that an offer to show me?"

"Tch," Aki scoffs, his eyes narrowing in contempt, "Don't be ridiculous. Do you think I don't understand what you're getting at? Do you think I'm stupid?"

He's caught onto you, hasn't he?

A grin tugs at the corners of your cheeks. "Of course not, sir. I think you're quite smart, actually. I just think you could stand to live a little, and if you understand what I'm getting at, then you should know what I mean."

Aki keeps his hold on your chin, gripping a little tighter. The pad of his thumb brushes ever-so slightly over your bottom lip, where the blood has nearly dried. You're hot all over, and his hand is cold; his touch causes you to shiver.

Aki continues, his voice low and quiet, "How do you imagine all of this playing out, hm? Acting like a brat isn't going to get you what you want. You seem to believe you're doing something here, but look where your antics have gotten you."

His eyes flicker down, to the shallow wound on your neck. A dried stream of blood still lingers on your skin, and a tiny pebble of fresh blood wells from the cut, threatening to drip down. Then, his gaze flicks back to your face, resting on your lips. "All you did was end up getting yourself hurt."

"Hm…" You muse, tone exaggerated as you feign thinking. His thumb continues to toy with your bottom lip as you talk. "No, I don't think it's what I want. It's what you want, actually."

"You're projecting."

You can't help but chuckle at that. There's a slight, teasing lilt in your voice when you speak again, the words dripping like honey, sweet and saccharine, "Isn't it hard, sir? It has to be so difficult, always following someone else's orders, never having the opportunity to take what you want. Why don't you be selfish for a change? Don't you want to have some fun?"

Aki feels your lips quiver under his thumb. Your pupils are blown, gaze pooling with something he knows, but can't even begin to fathom. And when he moves his hand, faintly cupping your cheek, he feels the warmth radiating from your skin, the fire quickly spreading from you to him, filling his own body with a steady burn.

His touch, delicate and light, is a perfect juxtaposition to his next words: harsh and strict. He replies, "What's difficult is having to deal with you. I'm sick of it."

You feel his fingertips as they start to trail your jawline, tracing the shape, all the way until his hand is able to firmly hold the back of your neck. Your breath hitches, your eyes widen. Aki can see it in your face, in your reaction — The way his intimate touch intoxicates you, instantly sending blood rushing to your head.

"I… I think…" You manage, gnawing on your bottom lip in an attempt to maintain your composure, "I think you wanna have fun, you just don't want to admit it. You don't have to hold back with me, you know. I'm sure you wanna enjoy yourself."

"No, I don't. What gives you the impression that I do?" Aki replies, but he offers a tender squeeze to the back of your neck, and when he exhales, his breath comes out the slightest bit shaky. His eyes narrow, and it's like you can see the way his gears are turning, thought process reflected in his gaze. As if he's wondering, debating back and forth with himself… Does he? Does he want to enjoy himself?

You've been keeping your arms at your sides since he first pinned you here, but with his eyes never wavering from your face, Aki can see your hand start to move in the corners of his vision. You wedge an arm between yourself and him, hesitantly pressing your palm to his chest, over the folds of his suit jacket. The fabric is soft to the touch, smooth. Clearly well-kept, dry cleaned and ironed to make it so.

You can feel the way his heart drums under your palm to a quick, eager rhythm, how his chest swells with every deep breath. The bridge of his nose scrunches ever-so slightly — the only sign that he noticed — but Aki doesn't move, nor does he make any attempt to stop you. He's frozen in place, tentatively waiting for you to take the next action. Entertaining you, to the slightest degree.

And you do just that: with a faint smile on your face, you slowly drag your palm down. Over his chest, fingertips ghosting across the crisp folds in his jacket, over the neatly done buttons. Then, down further, to cup the shape of his hip, to rub circles on his thigh, your hand just barely squeezing.

"You say that you don't, but," Your voice is quiet, your fingers rub teasingly close to his inner thigh, and Aki bunches the hand that rests on the brick wall into a tight fist. "You're here, aren't you? You could get off of me any minute now and leave me here in this alley, but you haven't. You wanna tell me why that is, hm, Hayakawa? You wanna tell me what you're doing right now, why you have me pinned here?"

No, you know why, and you want it just as badly as he does. You want to find out what he looks like with his crisp suit out of place, his tie loose, his shirt unbuttoned. You want to hear his voice when he can no longer maintain his level tone, what it sounds like when he breaks.

You take a deep, trembling breath in. Aki exhales a slow, steady, controlled breath out. Here in this moment, it feels as though time only exists between the two of you. It passes in fractions, in every flicker of Aki's eyes over you, and in every faint beat of your heart.

You can hear a plane as it flies overhead, a distant car horn honk — A subtle reminder that you're still in public, that what you're about to do is incredibly risky, but honestly, you can't bring yourself to care. The risk will make this all the more exciting.

You speak to fill the growing silence, voice barely more than a whisper, staring up at Aki through your eyelashes. "You're so quiet. I bet you're thinking about it."

Aki swallows, his voice lowered to match your volume when he replies, "Thinking about what?"

You smile. "About bending me over and taking me in this alleyway, right here, right now."

Aki sucks in a harsh, sharp breath. You lean in further, and his head dips in a little lower — Perhaps by accident, perhaps by choice. You stand up straighter to bring yourself closer to him, practically on your tiptoes; Aki can feel your warm breath fan out over the shell of his ear when you speak.

"Well?" You ask. The heat from your breath and your soft voice in his ear causes Aki's whole body to shiver. "You're the one who said you didn't want to deal with bullshit or messing around. How about we get to the point, and you go on and tell me what you want to do to me."

"I… I don't…"

Aki trails off; the words are stuck in his throat, unable to form, and he cuts his sentence short with a loud gasp when your lips suddenly press to his ear. Your hand grabs the diamond of his tie, yanking him in even closer. You trail kisses down his cheek, his jaw, so light they can hardly be felt, so teasing they send sparks of electricity through his veins.

You whisper against his skin, "Tell me how badly you wanna fuck me right now."

"I think… I think that's just what you want." Aki tries to keep his voice unshaken, but you can tell how it's beginning to waver, his resolve faltering. There's a warm flush blooming on his cheeks, and he leans his head further into your shoulder, hoping you won't be able to see it. "You're awfully desperate. As if you even have the privilege to be."

"No, you definitely want this, just as much as me. You're the desperate one here, I'm sure."

Aki grits his teeth and chokes out, "I don't fuck devils."

You grip his tie tighter, pulling him in until you're able to press your lips to his neck; Aki's body curls over you, obedient. His heart is pounding — You can feel it, the way his pulse thrums steadily beneath your lips. Your teeth connect, nipping faint love bites, mouth hot on his skin, and he's practically melting at the sensation, his weight starting to slide down the wall. I don't fuck devils, he claims, but when your hand trails from his thigh to between his legs, you can feel where the stiff outline of his cock strains his slacks.

"Ah, s-shit," Aki stammers, "You…"

Whatever he was hoping to say dies out when you squeeze him. Aki sighs deeply, his thigh sliding down from the wall, his hips subtly shifting back to give you better access.

You palm his dick; he's so warm here, throbbing and aching under your touch, so much that you can feel his cock pulse even through the fabric. When you squeeze again, harder this time, Aki can feel precum dribble out, getting his dick messy, his boxers filthy.

You press a long, lingering kiss to his collar. Then, you pull away to admire your work; red smears cover his skin, up and down his neck, and the crisp, white collar of his dress shirt is marked with a vivid lipstick stain.

"Wow, you're so hard," You tease, trying your best to hold back a snicker, "Is this just from me kissing you? I knew you wanted me, but I had no idea you wanted me this badly."

The only thing Aki can manage to mutter into your ear is a quiet, forceless, "Stop."

You retort, "Why should I?"

Aki swallows hard to clear some of the dryness in his throat, then murmurs, "We can't do this, not here."

Yeah, he says that, but his words carry no bite, and his actions betray them; even while he speaks, even while he says we can't, he's rutting his hips into your touch, desperately seeking out more friction. A hushed whine leaves his lips when he grinds himself hard against your palm.

"Oh?" You smirk, "So that's what you want, you want me to stop, huh?"

Abruptly, you take your hand away from him. Aki's breath hitches from the lack of contact. His cock aches even more, suddenly feeling terribly confined in his slacks. So desperate to come free, to feel something.

Aki stutters, "No, I'm-"

You cut him off, "You're so needy, poor thing. All you have to do is admit you want me to touch you and I will. You think you can do that, sir?"

"Fucking," Aki growls, his hand squeezing the back of your neck, "What I want right now is to shut you the hell up."

"Hah, is that so?" You laugh, "And how are you gonna do that? Are you gonna shut my mouth with-" Your hand returns to grab him, palm stroking the shape of his cock through his pants, and Aki can't hold back a groan. "-this?"

The moment you said that, the second your hand began palming him again, it's almost like you flipped a switch. The last of his resolve was finally chipped away, his need for you reached a boiling point, and now, there's no turning back. You can sense it in the way his breath starts to quicken, in how his hand grabs your side with a tight grip, wrinkling up your dress shirt. You know he isn't holding himself back anymore when his lips hover over your neck, his breath warm, and he finally says what you've been waiting to hear.

"Yeah, you'd fucking like that, wouldn't you?" Aki's voice is low and sultry, laced with a hint of annoyance; his tone makes you feel weak, your heart flipping, the breath punched from your lungs. "Bet you're dying to have my cock down your throat. As if you even deserve it, considering the way you've acted."

A soft whimper escapes your mouth before you have the opportunity to stop it, and you swear you can hear Aki huff the faintest chuckle. He runs his hand down your lower back, all the way 'til he finds the curve of your ass, and you gasp when he gives it a firm squeeze.

Your eyelids flutter, and his tongue swipes over your neck — You're like putty in his hands then, instantly yielding. His tongue, warm and wet, licks up the stream of dried blood from your skin, the taste metallic in his mouth. You hastily rub his dick with your palm, and his lips latch to your wound; he sucks fresh blood from it, his teeth nibbling faint impressions, your taste fogging up his head. Somehow, you swear you feel him get even harder.

Aki mutters into your neck, "You're awfully quiet now."

It's difficult to formulate a sentence with his mouth all over you, but you manage to hesitantly ask, "And… And if I say that I do? If I say I would like that?"

Aki presses his lips to cut, placing a kiss so unexpectedly soft and tender it makes your head spin, your thoughts teetering. His fingers thread up through the base of your scalp, sending tingles down your spine. He answers, "I'm not sure you've earned it, honestly. You'd be lucky if I gave you my fingers — No, you don't even deserve that much. The most you deserve is my shoe to grind down on."

You're not even thinking before you babble, "I deserve it, I do. I… I really want you, please."

"Oh, you're so greedy," Aki hums, muttering breathlessly between his lips peppering teasing kisses on your neck, "I know you'd be happy with anything I give you, but you still want more."

You nod, squeezing the stiff tent in his slacks, and Aki sighs into your skin, quickly pulling back so he can look at you. He grabs your chin with his fingers, tilting your face towards him; his gaze meets yours, and his eyes are pooled with lust, pupils blown out wide, swallowing the blue of his iris.

In a low tone, voice smooth, Aki says, "I like it when you beg for me, it's fitting for a pathetic little brat like you. Why don't you beg a bit more, then maybe I'll consider giving you what you want."

This may be the first time you've listened to his orders, but the second you've realized that, pleas are already falling from your mouth and you can't do anything to stop them.

"Aki, please." You whine, and it's the first time you've said his name like this, too. The way you say it so desperately, like you really do need him — Aki feels his heart skip a beat in his chest, and his dick pulses under your hand. You plead, "I really want it, don't be mean to me."

"No," Aki scolds, his eyes narrowing, and he leans in a little further, speaking softly, his lips mere centimeters away from yours, "If you want it that bad, then ask me properly. Tell me what you want, and speak with some respect, otherwise you're not getting it."

You hesitate for a moment, listening to the heavy breaths — yours, and his — as they echo around the alley. Only for a moment, though, because you know exactly what he wants to hear, and that happens to be the only motivation you need.

Finally, you stammer, "I want your cock, Hayakawa, sir," You gulp, Aki's breath hitches, and then, you continue, "I want it in my mouth, want you down my throat."

"Fuck, you think you can take it?" Aki mutters breathlessly, and when you nod your head, he takes one step back from you. He briefly eyes you up and down, and his hand tremors slightly as he brings it to your shoulder.

"Then get on your knees."

You don't need to be told twice.

With his hand on your shoulder, Aki guides you to switch places with him, so that his back is to the wall and you're positioned in front of him, at his feet. He hurriedly pulls his sword strap off his body to make himself more comfortable, tossing it to the ground with a clatter. Then, he holds the back of your head, gently coaxing you to your knees.

His heart thrums hard in his chest, a wave of anxiety rising in his nerves. If he's being honest with himself, Aki still isn't sure if he should be doing this. No, he definitely shouldn't. He should get back to work, stop acting stupid, quit messing around, but he just can't.

Honestly, when did he get this way? Was it when you first laid your hands on him, or was it when he figured out that you wanted him, when you gazed at him with that hazy look in your eyes like you're just begging for him to take you? He isn't sure, he doesn't know when or why or how he became unable to resist you, but right now, he really doesn't care.

He wants this way too damn bad. He needs you so much that all he can do is sit back and let this happen, even if his brain is telling him he shouldn't be.

And when he sees the way you obediently sink down to your knees in front of him, hands promptly fiddling with his belt to get it undone: it makes his head feel hazy, clouded with a certain sense of adoration, and all of his hesitations are quickly tossed away.

You stare up at him expectantly for a second, and Aki chides, "What are you waiting for? You're not chickening out, are you? You're the one who said you wanted this right here, right now."

You're not, definitely not. You hesitated for a moment only because you suddenly realized the gravity of your situation, and you can hardly believe it's even happening.

This is it, you did it, you won. You've got rule-following, devil-hating Aki Hayakawa pushing your head towards him, exhaling a heavy sigh of relief when your hand cups his bulge through the fabric of his slacks, his dick throbbing and stiffening beneath your touch. When you look up at him, you can see he's practically panting, his lips parted as he reaches up and grasps his tie to work it loose. His eyes never leave your figure as he watches you, anticipating your next move with bated breath.

This is really happening, you're going to do this right here, down a dingy alleyway in broad daylight and… Honestly, you want him so badly you can't even begin to question things.

So, you shake your head and reply, "I'm not. I'd never. And I won't change my mind."

"Good. That's what I like to hear."

The metal buckle of his belt clangs as you unfasten it. In this moment, everything starts to seem louder in your ears, more surreal. You can hear the sound of his breathing, shaky exhales quickened with nervousness and excitement. The smell of him fills your lungs: his rich cologne and cigarette smoke.

With his belt undone, hanging in the loops, you pop the button on his slacks next. Your fingers clasp around his zipper, pulling it down slowly, and as you do, Aki shoves his hand in his jacket pocket. He finds a cigarette, placing it between his lips, then his lighter, and he uses his palm to shield it from the breeze. You're edging his pants down his hips when you hear him strike the wheel, flame bringing his cigarette to life.

The outline of his cock is even more noticeable through his boxers, thick and heavy where it sits on his thigh. There's a bit of wetness seeping through the fabric, from where his precum has dribbled out and dirtied it. Aki shoves his lighter back in his pocket, holding his cigarette between two fingers; he brings it to his lips, inhales from it deeply, lazily, and when your palm cups his dick, he groans, puffs of smoke falling from his mouth.

He's so fucking hard, so needy — You can't help but tease, "See, I knew you wanted to have some fun with me, Mister 'I don't fuck devils.'"

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" Aki snaps, flicking the ash from his cigarette, his eyebrows furrowing up, "God, always such a pain in my ass — Why don't you put that pretty mouth of yours to use, show me it's good for more than just giving me lip."

"Oh? You think it's pretty?"

Aki seems to falter for a moment. "It's-"

He interrupts himself with a shuddery gasp when you press your tongue to his clothed cock, breathing hot air that he can feel even through the fabric. You swirl your tongue around him, getting the fabric of his boxers even wetter. His whole body shivers, and he leans back further against the wall to support himself.

You place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to his stiff bulge; Aki whines softly, and through his heavy breaths, he's just barely able to choke out, "I can't… Don't tease me."

As much as you want to oppose those words, you can't deny that you want this just as badly as he does, and you're getting a bit impatient yourself. So, you simply flash a playful smile in response before hooking your fingers around the waistband of his briefs, gently tugging them down, pressing one last delicate kiss to his clothed cockhead as you do so. You yank his boxers past where his hip bones jut out, then to his thighs, just enough to take his cock out.

It's thick, pale, with a slight curve to it — So damn pretty that you nearly start drooling at the sight. Aki holds his cigarette deft between two of his fingers, reaching down to grab your face with his free hand, just as you wrap your hand around the base of his dick, stroking him to a lazy rhythm.

He mouths something so quietly you almost miss it: Hold still. Then, he shifts his hips until he can lay the length of his cock over your cheek. For a moment, he holds you there, admiring the way it dwarfs your face, a little half-hearted chuckle escaping his lips.

He brings his thumb to the tip of his cock while your loose palm continues to pump him. A faint, wet sound echoes in your ears as he rubs circles over the slit, gathering the sticky precum that leaks from there. He presses his thumb to your mouth, and when your lips part, he shoves it in, smearing his precum over your tongue.

"There we go," Aki praises, exhaling a long, unsteady breath. Your lips close around his finger and you give it a gentle suck. Aki groans, "Yeah, want you to suck on me just like that," He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, grabbing your face and squeezing your cheeks. "Got it?"

You nod, "Mhmmm. Yes, sir."

Sir. His cock throbs just at that. You've been so damn difficult, always arguing with him, always trying to get on his nerves, but now that he's finally figured out what you wanted from him, you're unusually well-behaved. He could get used to seeing you like this, he thinks. Your obedience just makes him want to ruin you.

Aki presses the tip of his cock to your lips, and you feel it throb hard when you kiss it. He pulls on your chin, coaxing you to open your mouth. Smoke wisps up from the end of his unattended cigarette. Punctuated by his harsh breathing, he slurs a string of instructions: Open wide. Stick out your tongue. C'mon, you're gonna have to open wider than that.

Once you take him into your mouth, slowly bobbing your head down on him, your throat adjusting to his size, Aki gulps and praises, Atta girl. Keep taking it just like that. Watch those teeth for me.

God, if being scolded by him makes you feel high, then being praised by him takes you even higher. Your head feels fluffy, and you whimper weakly around his cock. Aki presses down on the back of your head with one hand, bringing his cigarette to his mouth with the other.

He takes a deep inhale before he's mumbling around the smoke, "Oh, that's it, baby." The pet name slips from his lips before he even realizes. His words make you even dizzier, and he tosses his head back, Adam's apple prominent in his throat, "Fuck, don't stop until it's all the way in, yeah?"

Aki groans when your tongue swirls around his length, pushing your head down more, encouraging you to take all of him. It's so much, he's too much, his cock filling every part of your mouth and your throat, to the point where it's difficult to breathe, let alone keep your composure. The only thing you can think about, the only thing filling all of your senses is him, and all you can do is stare up at him, doe-eyed, as he shifts his hips forwards and crams his cock all the way down your throat.

The tip of your nose nudges at his pelvis. Aki holds you in place, his palm rubbing the back of your head, fingers toying with your hair. He can see the way you're struggling to take him, muffled gags sending weak vibrations down his length, but he doesn't let up — He makes you watch as he takes a long, drawn-out drag from his cigarette, smoke falling from his lips as he exhales slow and steady.

With your warm and wet mouth around him, swallowing him up, the nicotine seems to hit his system harder than before — Aki feels his whole body relax, his eyelashes heavy and fluttering, his shoulders slumping.

"You're finally quiet now… I knew you could be good for me." He mumbles breathlessly, and he holds his cigarette between his teeth so he can reach down, wiping the tears welling at the corners of your eyes with his thumb. He feels the heat radiating off of your cheeks, and he carefully brushes messy strands of hair from your face so he can get a better look at you, tucking them carefully behind your ears.

The cock-drunk expression already present on your face, the pleading look in your eyes, the way your mouth feels around him — Aki's breath starts to come out sharp and fast, his heart pounding in his chest, and he knows, he knows he can't restrain himself anymore, even if he wanted to. Not when it's this good, not when you look so needy for him, not when he's this desperate for you.

It doesn't matter if he shouldn't be doing this, he doesn't fucking care if someone turns and walks right down this alleyway. He's going to be selfish, he's going to take what he wants from you. This is what you wanted him to do, isn't it?

Finally, he drags your head back, giving you a second to breathe and your jaw some relief, but the moment is short lived when his hips abruptly rut forward, shoving his cock back in. Aki takes control then, gripping your hair tightly as he starts up a rhythm, fucking himself into your mouth.

The alley quickly becomes filled with the wet sounds of you slurping and choking on his dick. He reaches so deep into your throat, and as his pace gets rougher, more and more greedy, your throat starts to ache, and your mind is a muddled blur, thoughts consumed by the feeling of his dick in every corner of your throat.

His cigarette is nearly spent, and Aki takes one last drag, sighing as the smoke leaves his lungs. He taps the cigarette with his finger, flicking the ash to the ground below, before he asks, "Where do you want this?"

You're confused, at first, but Aki shows you what he's getting at when he hovers his cigarette over the nape of your neck, where exposed skin peeks out from the collar of your shirt. His expression is unreadable, but when you look up at him through your eyelashes, you notice how his pupils are blown out wide, how his face is dusted a warm shade of pink.

"Shit… Should I put it out right here?"

You mumble around him, the vibrations on his cock causing him to inhale a sharp breath through his teeth, and Aki seems to take it as a yes.

He presses the end of the cigarette down, putting it out right on your skin, just above your collarbone. He grinds it in deep, using your neck as his ashtray, and it burns. You whine as an enveloping heat blooms over your skin, across your neck and your shoulders. There's a bit of pain, cold and warm at the same time; it mixes with pleasure, with the ache between your legs, and then, it goes numb. Aki flicks the cigarette away once it's completely out, a slight, satisfied smile forming on his face.

"You're so amazing, God," He praises, exhaling a shaky sigh, "Such a good girl."

The sounds coming from the both of you grow louder and louder, more and more obscene. You're choking on him, and he's panting, his chest heaving with every breath, low whines of pleasure falling from his lips between every gasp. What if someone hears you? Someone could turn down this alley, they'd hear your gags and whimpers, and they'd see you on your knees, your superior's dick in your mouth, Hayakawa's dick — While the two of you are supposed to be working, no less.

What would his co-workers, what would his boss say, if they went looking for him and saw this? Utterly square, professional Aki, getting off instead of doing his job. In a dingy alleyway, his cock down the throat of a fucking devil. He's always so calm and composed, poker-faced, but here, his face is flushed red, his lips are parted, quivering slightly, and his expression is contorted in pleasure as he falls apart at the seams. If anyone saw, he'd never live it down, surely.

Your eyes flicker over to the entrance of the alley. Shadowy figures of people can be seen walking past, faraway and tiny, but still there. You're sure the darkness of the alleyway is enough to conceal the two of you, but if any of them come this way, if anyone walks back here…

"Hey."

Aki's voice interrupts your thoughts, his hand grabbing you firmly by your cheeks, and your gaze immediately darts back to him. There's a slight look of annoyance on his face, and in a resolute tone, his hips stalling, he sternly commands, "Look at me. Don't look anywhere else, I want you to focus on me."

You offer him a shallow nod. Aki starts up his rhythm again, his hand returning to hold the back of your head, shoving you down onto him, and his hips shifting forwards, inching his cock further into your mouth. You force yourself to keep your eyes on him, on his face.

Even though it's difficult to breathe, difficult to take him, it feels good, he tastes good. You begin to match his pace, bobbing your head in tune with his movements, swallowing him up as best you can manage. It's messy, wet tears coating your cheeks, spit dribbling from the corners of your mouth.

His dick leaks warm precum down your throat. The shaft glistens from your drool each time you pull back, smeared a diluted red from what remains of your lipstick.

Aki brushes his fingertips over the cigarette-sized burn mark on your neck, rubbing it with his thumb, making it sting. You whimper, tears streaming down your face, and Aki cups your cheek in his palm, his thumb wiping them from your eyes. He sighs, and with his gaze still locked onto yours, you can see how his eyes become filled with adoration, his expression softening. In a voice barely more than a whisper, he mutters, "So pretty when you cry for me."

His breathing gets a little faster, his pace grows a little rougher, until he's fucking your mouth relentlessly, rolling his hips in an attempt to get himself even deeper inside. Your tongue swirls around his length — Aki whines, his body tensing; the stimulation on his dick is too much to handle, too perfect, too good, and when you force your head down, sucking hard, Aki can't take it, suddenly gasping, "F-Fuck, I'm gonna-"

He cuts himself off with a loud moan, his grip tightening in your hair, his head tossed back. For a moment, he considers pulling out, but when you shut your eyes and take him as far as you can, your lips wrapped around his base, he gives up; he buries his cock in your mouth as far as he can manage.

The pleasure builds, builds, builds, until with one last harsh suck on his dick, Aki feels it all boil over. Beads of sweat form on his forehead. His voice is strained, breaking, words slurred and nearly incoherent as he mumbles, "Oh God, cumming, I'm cumming — Swallow it, pretty baby."

And then, he's moaning through desperate gasps, his cock twitching as he spills into your throat. You swallow nearly all of his cum, reaching up to grip his thighs, your fingers digging into the fabric of his pants. When he's finally spent, sure that he's given you every last spurt of his cum, he relaxes, his body slumping against the wall. His hand softly strokes the back of your head: a subtle form of praise.

When you pull back, you wipe the drool from your chin and the tears from your face with the back of your hand. Aki catches his breath. His bangs stick to his forehead from his sweat, and he reaches up to hastily push them out of the way.

Slowly, he comes down, his eyes fluttering open; his gaze immediately darts to the entrance of the alleyway, lingering for a moment as the stars fade and his vision comes back into focus. No-one, that's good. He blinks away the rest of the haze before his eyes return to you.

You look like a mess, your cheeks tear-stained, your hair ruffled, trying your best to stifle little coughs. Well, he's sure he isn't faring much better. He's got to look pretty disheveled, too, with his tie loose, his face covered in sweat, and his cheeks red hot. And he's still hard, his dick starting to ache again, just at the sight of you.

Fuck, you could barely take him. You were choking on him so much, but still staring up at him with an eager, lust-filled look, like you were enjoying yourself just by pleasing him.

Yet, even though you could barely take him, even though you're still struggling to breathe, you're looking up at him with a wild, excited expression, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Aki has his gaze locked onto you, and he watches as you open wide, stick out your tongue, and let him see the bead of white — his cum — that lingers there.

Half in disbelief, half in pure ecstasy, Aki slurs, "Oh, God…"

You giggle, putting your tongue back in your mouth, and Aki swears he feels blood rushing to his dick when you swallow. When you speak, your voice is sickeningly sweet, enough to make Aki's heart leap when you ask, "You gonna fuck me now, sir?"

"Shit," Aki pushes himself off the wall, stumbling a little when he stands up straight. He finds his footing, then he crooks a finger at you, mumbling, "Up."

Your legs are a little shaky when you rise to your feet. Aki yanks his boxers up, not bothering to re-button his pants or fix his ajar belt. His hands fist your shirt collar, and before you can say anything more, he's yanking you towards him; his eyes flutter shut, and his lips come crashing onto yours.

The kiss is messy and desperate — You're wrapping your arms around his neck, and he's gripping your sides, dragging your body as close to his as he can get you. His lips feel just as soft and perfect as they look, and when they part, he's licking into your mouth, sucking eagerly on your tongue. You grip his tie to yank him in even more, and he tilts his head to kiss you deeper, bringing a hand to your jaw. His touch is delicate, a perfect contrast to how greedy his kisses are.

He tastes like fresh mint and the rich flavor of his cigarettes. You taste like himself, and the sensation has him reeling. His head goes foggy and light as he melts in the feeling of your lips on his, and just from this, he's already getting hard in his briefs again. You just taste too good, kissing you feels too amazing, too addicting. God, he's going to want to have you again, isn't he?

With his palm still holding your side, Aki carefully twists, switching your position with his. Before he presses you up against the wall, he places his hand over the small of your back, providing a buffer between you and the hard brick. Then, his hand is fumbling to pull your dress shirt out from where it's tucked into your pants. As soon as he's got it, he slips his hand up your shirt. Your whole body shivers at his touch, his hand cool on your warm skin.

Trailing his fingertips over your soft, bare skin, Aki feels the curve of your waist, traces the shape of your spine; he feels you melt into his touch, your body slumping, your back arching into him.

His fingertips are nimble, and his palm is calloused, but his touch feels absolutely heavenly. As his lips press harder against yours, he gropes and squeezes your breast through your bra, and you groan into his mouth.

When he pulls apart from you, you're both struggling to catch your breath, panting heavily, but he gives you little time to rest. You catch a glimpse of his face before he dips down — Pupils blown out wide, his face flushed, eyelids heavy — and then, his lips press softly to your neck.

You sigh out his name quietly, your fingers tangling through his hair, his topknot starting to come a little loose. His head feels fuzzy, his thoughts cloudy, but in a brief moment of clarity, between his gentle kisses and love bites, Aki whispers to you, "You wanna get out of here?"

Your response comes quicker than he expected. "No," You shake your head, gripping his hair tighter, "I can't wait, I want you right here."

Aki laughs dryly, burying his face into the nape of your neck. He should have known you would say that. His soft bangs brush over your skin, and his fingers absently toy with the hem of your bra, threatening to slip under.

"God, that's…" He pauses, exhaling a shuddery sigh, "That's dangerous, you know?"

"We've already taken plenty of risks, haven't we? What's one more?"

A bird chirps from somewhere above. A train whistles from someplace far away. Aki's hand slides down, feeling out the ridges of your ribcage. He rubs slow circles into your side with his palm, lost in thought. After a steady, deep breath, he softly replies, "If we… If I do this, then I'm not gonna be able to stop."

The way he says those words, his tone deep, his voice wavering — It implies exactly what he means. I won't be able to stop myself, I won't be able to hold back, even if someone walks down this alley.

You smirk. "Then don't."

Aki steadies himself with one last shaky breath in through his nose, out through his mouth. Then, he takes a few steps back from you. You see him swallow, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He reaches up, adjusting his askew tie, his eyes giving you a quick once over. He allows himself one last chance, one more moment of contemplation, of considering if he should actually go through with this. If he should really fuck you, you, a damn devil, right here, right now.

Well, should he? He's pretty sure he already established that he shouldn't, he just can't find it in himself to care. Right now, he's listening to his dick instead of his brain, but honestly, who can blame him? The way you're looking at him — It's like you're begging for him to let go, like you need for him to take you right now, in whichever way he pleases. It's absolutely intoxicating.

Still, you can see the hesitation in his gaze, the way he bites his bottom lip, how his fingers around his tie tremble more than they should. His tone seems genuine, softened at the edges when he asks you, "Are you sure, are you certain you want to do this?"

You huff, "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Because I'm- I mean, you can say if you want me to stop, y'know, if you…"

"Aki."

The firmness to how you say his name causes Aki to freeze. He eyes you up and down expectantly.

You continue, voice low, steady, "I'm sure, I've been sure. I told you, didn't I? You don't have to hold back with me." You breathe in, breathe out. A deep, heavy sigh. And then — "Do your worst."

Aki gulps. Do your worst. He wonders what his worst might be. What, exactly, you'd let him do to you. How much you'd be able to take. He supposes he'll find out.

In a strict, level tone, he commands, "Face against the wall."

You follow his instruction immediately, spinning around, and Aki continues, "Bend over. Spread your legs for me. Place your hands on the wall, like-" He steps forwards, grabbing your wrists in each hand and guiding you to press your palms flat on the brick. "This."

One of his hands settles on your waist, while he places the other on the small of your back. Aki guides you carefully until you're arched to fit perfectly under him: his tall frame is leant almost completely over yours, his hips are pressed up flush to your ass. Your arms are bent, your cheek nearly touching the brick wall, your legs spread a bit.

In this position, he's so close, and it's so obscene, your body arched, your legs open. Aki takes a deep breath, and with his chest fitting into the curve of your back, you can feel the way his chest expands, then contracts.

His body is large enough to dwarf your own, casting you in his cool, dim shadow. He wraps his arm under your stomach to pull you closer to himself, and when he does, you can feel the stiff outline of his cock in his briefs rub up against your ass — Already so hard, straining the fabric uncomfortably, dribbling precum out over his thigh.

Aki leans down, his deep voice close to your ear, breathless: "How bad do you want this?"

"Just as badly as you."

Aki chuckles. His palm travels down your back, all the way to caress the swell of your ass. "So, very, very badly then, huh?"

Your response comes in the form of a half-sigh, half-whimper as you shift to grind your ass on him, but to your surprise, Aki grabs your waist with an iron grip. He holds you still, stopping you. "Hey," You huff in frustration, "What's up, did you change your mind? Is someone coming?"

"No. I'll keep going, but there's something I want you to do for me first." Aki replies; his voice is suddenly stern, resolute, and it throws you off a little.

The gears in your head start to turn, and timidly, you ask, "And… What might that be?"

His hips shove towards you firmer as he drags you in, even closer. You can clearly feel his hard cock pressed up against you, but with him holding you still, you're provided no movement, no friction. It's fucking agonizing. His lips ghost over the shell of your ear, and he speaks at barely more than a whisper when he mutters, "I want you to apologize."

Aki nips at your ear; his warm breath and the intense closeness of his body on yours spread a wave of enveloping heat over your back. It's difficult for you to speak, your voice sounding feeble, but you still manage to ask, "...For what?"

Aki replies matter-of-factly, "For acting like a brat, and for your blatant disrespect."

"You… You can't be serious," You huff, rolling your eyes, "There's no way I'm doing that."

Aki's lips graze over your jaw, soft, but barely there. "Then you're not getting fucked. It's a pretty simple request — I'm not sure why you'd decide to throw a fit now, when you're so close to getting what you wanted. I thought you were more desperate than this." His voice is low, the slightest bit condescending, "You're still my subordinate, so be good and apologize like one."

Without a second thought, you snap, "Oh, bite me, you prick."

"I will if you ask nicely."

Aki grabs both of your hips, holding you still. Hesitantly, he grinds his clothed cock against your ass, a small gasp escaping his lips. Even through the layers of clothing: his boxers and your slacks, you can feel him. So thick, so close to giving you what you're desiring, but not quite.

As he slowly humps your ass, searching for whatever bit of friction he can receive, your mind begins to wander. His breath in your ear is heavy, shaky.

You think of when his cock was in your mouth, and imagine what it would feel like filling you up, his dick stretching you out. You imagine his precise fingers on your clit, long digits shoved in your aching pussy. A lump grows in your throat, a knot tightens in your chest. You want him so badly, so much it aches, and judging by the way he grinds on you, starting to rub his dick up against you with a desperate fervor, you're certain he wants you just as much.

Your lips quiver, words on the tip of your tongue, until finally, you blurt out, "Aki, fuck- I can't wait anymore. I really want you, please."

The desperate, syrupy tone to your voice causes Aki to briefly falter, if only for a second. His heart flutters in his chest, blood rushing to his cock, but his daze is shaken when you try to move your hips. He holds you firm, gripping even tighter: A silent command to hold still.

"You're so needy," He teases, his voice cold, but the slightest bit strained. When you yield, going slack under him, his hand slides around to your front, fingers toying idly with the button on your slacks. "We're supposed to be working, you know. But here you are, begging for me, and you couldn't even wait for us to go somewhere more private. You want my cock that badly? Tch, dirty girl."

Growing impatient, you counter, "And you were supposed to show me around the city, yet you're in some dingy alley getting your dick wet instead. I wonder what that says about you."

Aki wraps his arm around your stomach, dragging your body closer to his, making certain you feel the outline of his cock, how hard he is, how much he's throbbing. He mutters, "C'mon. That's no way to get what you want."

Even though he has his dick pressed up to your ass, even though he's grinding against you lazily, each of his sentences punctuated by his ragged breathing, Aki's voice assumes that same familiar, scolding tone. The tone that quickly puts you in the same overpowered, weak state you shifted in and out of when you first began this struggle. You're losing, again. But your head couldn't feel any higher.

Aki continues, his breath hot on your ear, "Talking back to me is going to get you nowhere. I'm sure I told you this before, I thought you understood. Were you not listening again?"

"I know," You slur, and there's heat rising to your cheeks from the embarrassment, from the pressure, "I was listening, I swear."

"I don't think you were. If you had been paying attention, you'd be busy apologizing to me right about now."

"Aki-"

"Be quiet." Aki snaps, "I don't want to hear anything else out of your mouth unless you're doing what I asked."

Slowly, teasingly, he glides his hand down, his palm caressing your inner thigh; when he hears the immediate hitch in your breath, he drags his hand away, further from what you want. You can't help but whine in disappointment.

Aki grinds a little harder against you. His cock is sitting thick and heavy on his thigh, the fabric of his boxers soaked from his dribbles of precum. He's aching, dying to be inside you, to feel your tight walls around his cock, to fuck you stupid. But still, he doesn't let up, refusing to give in. He won't, not until you're compliant. Not until he wins.

Your breathing comes out faster, more uneven, and Aki is panting just as hard. He slips his hand under your shirt, fingertips tracing circles on your stomach, his touch so light and delicate it makes your whole body shiver. The shape of his dick on your ass, his touch on your skin, his large figure caging you in, his warm breath on your neck — Everything reaches a fever pitch, and with your mind in a haze, you finally crack.

"I'm sorry!" You shout. Tears of frustration prick at the corners of your eyes as you continue to babble, stumbling over your words, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sir, please, forgive me. I really need you, I can't…"

Aki taunts, voice low, "Are you? What are you sorry for?"

You hear the button on your pants pop.

"For…" You gulp, "For acting like a brat, and for being disrespectful to you."

Then, you hear the zipper: drug down agonizingly slowly, the sound and the anticipation that comes with it seeming to cut through the echo of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

You start to speak again — Sir, please, I'm — but before you can finish your sentence, Aki's fingers slip under your slacks. You cut yourself off with a sharp intake of breath.

"There we go." Aki praises, and he rewards you by pressing his fingertips to your clit through the fabric of your panties. He rubs faint, barely-there circles, but it's still enough to give you some of the pleasure you had been oh-so desperately searching for. Your legs tense up, a quiet whine escaping your lips. Your hands, still pressed to the brick wall, tighten into fists.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Aki takes his hand away to grab your pants, gently pulling them down to your thighs. Then, he cups your pussy in his hand. He can feel the warmth there with his palm, and when he speaks, his tone returns to the certain deep, resonating vibrato that always sends a pang between your legs. "Do you think you've been good enough to have me touch you? You think you've earned it?"

"Yes, yes," You reply quickly, but can hardly speak, nodding your head hurriedly. You're so wet, you're practically dripping, and you're certain he must be able to feel it through the damp fabric of your underwear. "I deserve it, I can be good. Just please-"

Aki interrupts, "You wanna be good for me?"

"Mhmm, yessir."

Leaning his body over you all the way, Aki hikes your dress shirt up to your chest, until his hand is able to grip your bare side. He gives you a gentle squeeze, then brings his other hand to hold under your chin. Carefully, he tilts your head upwards, guiding you to look up at him, his face situated directly above yours.

"Open your mouth."

You're following the command as soon as you hear it. You open your mouth slowly, staring up at him through a half-lidded gaze. It's difficult to see from this angle, but you're sure he looks composed, his messy bangs falling to frame his face. His expression serious, but his pupils blown out wide.

Aki taps his finger gently on your cheek. "You need to open wider than that. Stick out your tongue some, too. There we go."

He grips your chin tightly, his jaw flexes. A red-hot fire rises to your cheeks — You're embarrassed, sitting here with your mouth open wide and your tongue out, eagerly waiting for what you know he's going to do. This should be such a pathetic position for you to be in, this should be totally humiliating.

Shouldn't you be ashamed of yourself, of how desperate you're acting? And yet, all you can manage to think of, the one sensation that dominates everything, making your thoughts feel flowery, your limbs feel weak — All you feel is that utter, all-encompassing thrill.

And when he gathers saliva, spitting a glob of it directly onto your tongue, you whine, your thighs shake, your head feels dizzy and fluffy; Aki commands, "Swallow." And you're listening to those instructions to a tee, instantly feeling a rush of adrenaline and an ache between your legs the second you've swallowed down his spit.

Aki sighs deeply. His dick throbs once he sees you swallow, sending precum oozing down his thigh. His forehead falls to press to yours, his bangs brushed over your face. "Oh, fuck… Good girl."

He swiftly hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, hurrying to pull them down. His palms stroke your bare thighs, the stiff outline of his cock shoves against your ass — Even less friction than before, and you can feel it pulse with need, the fabric of his boxers a soaked mess.

"Where should I touch you?" Aki asks breathlessly, "Right here?"

Before you even have the chance to answer, he rubs his fingers through your soaked folds, gathering your slick on the digits. You're dripping out all over his knuckles, his hand quickly becoming a glossy, wet mess. Aki chuckles quietly, and he places a quick kiss to your forehead before leaning his head back over your shoulder, speaking close to your ear once more.

"God, you're wet… Did that turn you on, baby? Shit," His dick throbs, he exhales a half-sigh, half-moan, "You like it when I spit in your mouth? You're filthier than I thought you'd be. I love it."

You can't manage a response to that, just a feverish nod. Your eyes screw up tight, and you hear Aki spitting again — This time, into his hand. He brings his hand between your legs, rubbing your clit with the base of his spit-soaked palm, firm and rough.

If you're filthy for this: for wanting him to fuck you right here, in public, for getting wet when he scolds you, when he spit into your mouth — You're filthy, sure, but he's no better than you, is he? His dick is so hard it's aching, and you can feel his heart pounding like a drum where his chest presses to your back. He's the one who has you bent over here, who's getting off on teasing you perhaps even more than you are.

The heel of his palm rubs slow, deep circles on your clit. Aki taunts, "Feel good? I want you to tell me how it feels."

"Aki- S-Shit," The words barely come out, and you're speaking through tiny gasps when you mutter, "It's really good, please-"

You're not sure what you're begging for at this point, but Aki seems to get the hint. He brushes his fingers over your pussy, fingertips teasing at your entrance. "You want them inside?" He doesn't wait for an answer before he's easing two of his fingers inside you.

"That's it," Aki coos, his voice a little shaky. His fingers stretch you out, slowly and carefully. "Can you take them all the way?"

You manage to reply, "Mhmm.."

Your heart pounds incessantly in your ears, your legs threaten to buckle. You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself, and briefly, Aki stops. His voice in your ear is quiet, calm, seeming to resonate deep in your skull, deep within your chest.

I'm right here. Focus on me. Got it?

You're pinned beneath him here: Aki resting his body weight on top of you, his fingers inside your cunt, holding you up by your tummy with his other arm. You press your thighs together, the inside of them slick and wet, his arm right between them. You can feel the smooth fabric of his suit jacket sleeve rubbing your skin. If his sleeve isn't filthy already, it's going to be ruined after this, surely.

Aki presses his fingers in knuckle-deep: his ring and his middle, the two longest. And they're so long, reaching so deeply inside you, stretching you out perfectly. Gently, he curls them, pressing them right up to your sweet spot, eliciting a needy whine from your lips.

I know it feels good, but don't make too much noise. We wouldn't want anybody to hear us.

You offer him a shallow nod and try to stifle your noises as best you can, but you're unable to hold back a few weak whimpers. His fingers are already soaked, glistening with your slick when he drags them out, echoing a lewd, wet sound when he pushes them back in.

With a soft groan, he shoves his cock firmer against your ass; he can feel it throbbing, aching with need. You're so wet, and he knows if he were to sink his cock into you, it'd slide in so easy — The thought alone is enough to make him feel delirious.

Shit… You want me to go faster?

Aki fucks you with his fingers until your legs are starting to shake. Your walls are so tight around the digits, squeezing them each time he drags them out, sucking them in greedily when he presses them inside — God, you're so desperate for him. Aki wants to give you more, needs to give you more. You've been so good, you deserve it. You deserve to have him give you everything.

He hears your breath start to pick up, sharp and desperate. The pace of his fingers stays steady, controlled, Aki determined to make you cum. His lips press faintly to the shell of your ear.

That's it, keep going, just like this. You're doing so well.

A tight knot coils in your stomach, your edge coming closer, closer — Aki holds you tight, and he pulls his fingers out to briefly rub precise halos over your clit, his fingertips soaked with your slick. You're shaking, gasping, up on your tiptoes as your back arches into him.

I want you to cum for me. You think you can do that, pretty girl?

His words are all it takes to make you fall apart. Your whole body trembles, your moans growing louder and louder; His free hand quickly comes to cover your mouth, his palm muffling your noise. He coos, Shh, shh. That's it. Oh, baby…

You cum hard for him, your whole body trembling, and Aki shoves his fingers back inside; he fingers you through your orgasm, blood rushing to his cock when he feels the way your cunt pulses around the digits. He draws out as much pleasure from you as he possibly can, only slowing when he notices you beginning to come down, and only dragging his fingers out of you when he's sure you're completely spent.

As you catch your breath, your muscles relaxed, the exhilaration in your head starting to fade, Aki removes his palm from your mouth to hold you up, close to himself, your weight supported on his arm. "You alright?" He murmurs, and you offer him a quick nod and a slurred, Yes.

You still want me, don't you?

You laugh. Come on, is that even a question you have to ask?

You're right. With the way you're already shifting your hips to grind your ass on him, a desperate look in your eyes as he grabs your chin, tilting your head up and to the side so he can look at you — It's clear you're nowhere near close to satisfied, and there's no way in hell Aki's quitting now. Not until he's given you all he has, not until you've finally had enough.

With his hand holding your chin, Aki runs his thumb along your bottom lip, bringing his other hand in front of your face. His fingers are soaked, glistening in the low light, and he slowly spreads them apart, letting you see the way your slick and cum sticks between them. "Look at that. You made such a mess, you gonna clean it up?"

His thumb pulls down gently on your lip, and you take the hint, parting your mouth obediently. Aki presses his fingers in slowly, careful not to push you too far, so you won't gag. Your tongue swirls around the digits, licking them clean, tasting yourself.

And once again, just like all the times before, the praise he utters into your ear sends your heart fluttering: That's my girl. You think you can take my cock now?

As soon as he's pulled his fingers from your mouth, still wet from your saliva, Aki makes quick work of yanking down his boxers. He grabs your hips to drag you towards him, his cock sliding in between your thighs. He's so hard, fucking aching, precum dribbling out from the sensitive tip, and it's so wet, messy with the slick that coats your thighs, your cunt practically dripping out onto him.

Aki, please.

The way you say his name so sweetly, so perfectly — He wants to fuck you so badly he's starting to get dizzy, to hear you say it over and over again, to make you say his name. His, because he's the one you're so desperate to have, he's the one you're bent over in a dirty alleyway for. You belong to him and you know it.

So desperate for me. Be patient.

Without even thinking, you counter, stammering, "I'm… I'm not desperate."

"If you're not, then," Aki rubs circles into your skin with his thumbs, holding your hips tightly. He ruts forwards to a lazy rhythm, fucking into your plush thighs, the shaft warm and wet, throbbing incessantly, the friction delicious on his aching cock. "You're fine if I keep doing this?"

He could spend an eternity here, teasing you as much as you can take, making you beg for him again and again, his dick buried between your thighs. But he knows what you want, knows what you need. You need more.

You can hardly speak: "No, I… I'm…"

"C'mon. Spit it out." Aki demands, "If you want it, tell me."

You swallow down the lump in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribcage. Your words come out as barely more than a whisper.

Aki, fuck me.

Aki scoffs. Tsk. Try again. Ask properly.

God, he's fucking difficult, even up until the very end, but you'd be a liar if you said you didn't enjoy it. You'd be lying if you tried to claim you didn't love this: the way he forces you into obedience, time and time again.

I want… I want your cock. Hayakawa, sir.

You hear a quiet whine, a hitched breath, as Aki presses his cockhead to your entrance. His dick throbs hard, and his voice trembles ever so slightly.

Ask nicely. Say please for me.

Then, a deep sigh of relief when he eases inside, pushing past the initial tight ring of your cunt, stretching you out just barely, around the fat tip of his cock.

God, it feels so good — You want him to sink all the way in, to fill you up with the entire length of his cock, to feel him as deep inside as he can possibly get. Without a second thought, desperate pleas continuously fall from your lips: Please, please, please.

Aki sees the way your legs begin to buckle, his arms around your middle holding you up tighter, closer to himself. You're under him, with his body leant over yours, his large frame dwarfing your own — You feel overpowered, owned, and the feeling only seems to multiply when one of his arms snakes under you, his large hand carefully wrapping around your throat. He squeezes, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to make you melt, your head floaty and high, your nerves going numb.

In a tone that's deep, smooth, intense, Aki mutters into your ear, "That's a good girl."

Then, he rewards you, easing himself into you slowly, stretching you out around his fat cock. His knuckles tense, fingers tightening around your neck, his touch sending tingles throughout your head, your shoulders, your spine. Through heavy eyelids, his gaze flickers down; Aki watches, vision hazy and blurred at the edges as the shaft of his cock is buried deeper and deeper inside you. He's so wrapped up in the sight that he almost doesn't catch when you weakly mutter, More.

God, I'm gonna give you all of it.

And he does: he groans when he's sheathed himself all the way in, down to the hilt, gently rocking his hips, burying himself into you as much as he can manage. He's so deep; you can feel his cock in your stomach, all the way inside you, throbbing to a dull rhythm. His hips are shoved deft to your ass, his warm, bare, sweat-soaked skin pressed against yours.

Aki takes a moment to catch his breath. You take him perfectly, just as well as he imagined — No, even better. You feel so damn good around his cock, squeezing him tightly when he nestles in deeper, sucking him back in greedily when he tries to pull out. Perhaps if he knew from the start that you would feel this fucking amazing, he wouldn't have wasted so much time; he'd have you bent over for him from the minute you got here.

You feel his warm breath on your ear, his quiet voice, genuine and strained: You feel so, so good.

Starting up a gentle rhythm, Aki fucks into you with shallow thrusts, each movement careful and hesitant as he tries to give you a chance to get used to the feeling of him stretching you. He rests his weight on your back — You can feel his heartbeat drumming wildly in his chest, even through the layers of his shirt and suit jacket. If it wasn't for him holding you up, you're sure you would have fallen by now.

He gives your neck one more faint squeeze as he shoves his cock in, sending blood rushing to your head, before he drags his hand over to your stomach. With the heel of his palm, he presses down, adding more pressure, and you can't help but whine out his name.

"Aki," You manage, voice threatening to break at the end.

"You want more? Shit, you want me to fuck you harder, yeah?" Aki interrupts, saying exactly what was on your mind. "You gonna keep your voice down?"

In any other circumstance, or if Aki wasn't busy fucking your brains out, rendering coherent thoughts unable to form, maybe you would have considered yourself pathetic. Maybe you would have thought this, what's happening right now, was utterly embarrassing for you. Here you are, in a dirty back alley, with your superior's dick inside you, his hands all over you, and all you can think about is how badly you want more.

Your superior, fucking Hayakawa, who's a total ass, utterly insufferable, and here you are, begging like a little bitch for him to fuck you harder.

Without even considering whether or not you'll be able to fulfill his request, you're babbling, "Uh-huh, yessir, yessir."

Aki's lips graze over the shell of your ear. If you get too loud, I'm going to stop. Show me how well you can take it.

Whispered, slurred, you mutter a promise to him: I will.

After that, once he hears you say those few words, Aki stops trying to hold himself back.

His hands grip your bare sides, his fingers trembling, his palms warm. He starts fucking you like he really means it, burying his cock in over and over. The buckle of his belt jingles, still hanging loosely in the loops of his slacks, and the soft sound of skin hitting skin — his hips hitting your ass — begins to bounce off the enclosed walls of the alley. You can hear him in your ear: his gasps for air, hushed curses, little moans of ecstacy that he's unable to hold back, and you're practically biting on your tongue to shut yourself up.

Aki fucks you like he needs you, like he needs this, like he's needed someone to fuck like this for far, far too long. It's like he's taking out his frustrations on you, all of his resentment, and all of that pent up desperation he's had for so long now, everything building and building until it explodes — Until he fucks you like he's unable to quit.

One of his hands presses to the back of your head, shoving your face into the wall, the brick rough on your cheek. The other glides over your bare ass, where he grabs and squeezes, and when you promptly whimper, he's not sure what overtakes him, but he gives your ass a firm slap — Immediately soothing the sting by caressing your skin with his palm.

Fuck, I can't- You're squeezing my cock so much.

Your hands tighten, grabbing uselessly at the wall, fingertips scraping the surface. Aki suddenly grabs your chin, roughly jerking your head upwards, and you hear him mumble something that sounds like, Open.

You take the hint, opening your mouth wide, and while he's still fucking you, rutting his hips to a desperate fervor, Aki messily spits — The glob drips from his tongue, a string of drool, a total mess of his saliva. When it falls to your mouth, you gulp, and Aki groans, his dick throbbing at the sight, at the way you eagerly swallow down his spit.

He leans back, then, spitting another messy glob of saliva — It drips down your ass, all the way to the shaft of his dick, getting it slicker, wetter when he shoves it back inside and God, it's so damn wet, so soaked, so easy for him to fuck himself into you.

You're both getting louder, despite your attempts to keep quiet, and Aki hastily brings his hand to your mouth, covering it firmly with his palm. He leans in, his voice low and strict when he scolds, "I told you to be quiet. Do you want someone to hear us, or what?"

… Actually, he knows he shouldn't get excited by that thought — He knows he shouldn't feel his dick get harder, his breath come out quicker, and his heart hammer faster when he imagines someone walking down this alley and seeing him fucking you senseless, but he just can't help it. He can't help but feel like he wants someone to see, to know just how desperate and needy you are for him.

But, even if he enjoys the idea, he's still a man of his word, and when you're acting disobediently, something needs to be done.

So, Aki begins to slow his pace. His thrusts are deep, but restrained, agonizingly teasing as he drags his cock out lazily, feeling the way your walls tighten, gripping the shaft. You mumble something incoherent into his palm; perhaps a protest, or possibly a plea for more.

Nevertheless, Aki ignores it, and asks, "Can you hear that?"

You promptly shake your head. Honestly, it's hard for you to even hear anything. His voice sounds like it's been plunged underwater, your head fuzzy with clouds and fluff, your brain practically unable to think. All you're focused on is the intense pleasure you're feeling: warmth that spreads across your entire body, pooling in your gut, causing your legs to shake and your toes to curl. You try your best to pay attention, and you don't notice it at first, but then —

When he thrusts in again, that's when you hear it — A disgustingly wet noise, so loud, the echo seeming to fill the entire alley.

Heat rises in your cheeks, and a low chuckle falls from Aki's mouth. "So fucking wet…" He taunts, "You're still so loud. God, what am I going to do with you?"

Aki keeps his palm deft to your mouth as he begins rutting into you harder again, burying his face into your neck to stifle his noise. He fucks you faster, harder, putting his full weight into every thrust. His pace grows ragged as he chases his own pleasure, his hand shifting, his thumb pressing to your lips, urging you to part them. And when you do, he's shoving his thumb into your mouth, pressing it to your tongue, mumbling the command: Suck on it.

You do as you're told, lips closing around his thumb as you suck gently, your moans muffled, quiet. Aki feels himself start to lose control, his edge growing closer.

He groans, "Shit, I can't- I'm close-" He thinks he can hold out, but when you start whimpering around his finger, shifting your weight on your heels to press your ass into him, urging him to fuck you even deeper, he's pressing his lips to your throat, muttering into your skin, "You want my cum?"

"Yeah, yeah, I want it-"

"F-Fuck… You gonna ask for it nicely?"

Aki thinks, Of course you are.

"Uh-huh," You're stammering, nodding your head feverishly, Aki fucking you to a desperate pace, "Please, I want your cum, Hayakawa, sir, please."

Hayakawa, sir. God.

Aki yanks your dress shirt up to your chest as he pulls out, and he wraps his hand around his cock, jerking it with a tight grip. The tension snaps, and Aki gasps — His cum shoots from his cock, ropes of sticky white covering your back, your ass, dripping down to your thighs, getting you utterly filthy. He lets his cock lay over your ass, squeezing the sensitive tip of his cockhead, making sure everything he has to give you drips out onto your skin.

"H-hah, shit," Aki mumbles, his voice hoarse, breathless, "So messy… Such a good girl. Such a good girl for me."

He comes down slowly, catching his breath, his arm coming to wrap around your stomach when he sees you starting to slip. With a shudder he can feel across his entire body, Aki drags his half-hard cock over your ass, over his cum, and although he's trying to calm down, when he looks at you like this, as you eagerly grind your ass up against him, he just can't.

He's swiftly filled with the imperative to fuck you again, to get more, because he isn't done. There's more he can give to you, more he can take.

Still, the prickle of nervousness welling in his chest causes him to turn and look towards the entrance of the alley. There's more people than ever. He can see their small, shadowy forms as they walk past. If any of them walk just a little bit closer, then…

For a very brief moment, Aki considers stopping. He contemplates whether or not he should ask you if this is too much, if you two should get out of here like he initially suggested. But, all of those hesitations are cast away, all of his nervousness is replaced by a wave of desire the moment he hears you speak.

You beg, "Aki, please. I want more, want you to make me cum- Please, can you?"

It's risky, and only getting riskier. But when you ask him like that, when you beg for him to make you cum, how is he supposed to resist you? You always win in the end.

So, Aki slurs, "Okay, okay, yeah." He places his hands gently on your waist, instructing, "Turn around for me, baby."

As you shakily stand to your feet, he holds you up by your waist so you won't fall. Then, he guides you to twist until your back is pressed to the wall, your weight leant on it, and your arms around his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

Aki reaches up, grasping the diamond of his tie, carefully loosening it until it hangs undone around his collar. You clasp your hands around his neck, and he pops the buttons on his suit jacket next, taking it off and tossing it to the ground — It's filthy already, anyway — leaving him in his crisp white dress shirt.

He hikes his sleeves up to his forearms, exposing his biceps, skin covered in scars from various contracts, and you're reaching down to jerk him as he does it, your palm around his cock quickly getting him hard again.

Aki's eyes meet yours. Gently, he places his arms under your ass, lifting you up until you can wrap your legs around his waist. The metal of his earrings glint in the dim light, the tips of his ears a faint shade of pink.

He looks so different from what you're used to, from the way he normally looks: so serious and poker-faced. Right now, his gaze is deep, filled with longing, his pupils blown wide. His messy bangs stick to his forehead from sweat, his eyelashes flutter, and his cheeks are flushed a light tinge of pink, warm to the touch when you cup his face in your free hand.

He's pretty like this, you think. He's pretty when his bangs frame his face, when his hair is loose and unkempt, close to falling out of his topknot. He's pretty with his soft lips parted, when he's only in his dress shirt, with his slacks pooling at his ankles, when he's so goddamn needy for you. His voice sounds pretty and deep when he slurs a quick, You ready? And when you nod, he's easing back into you — The expression on his face then is the prettiest.

It's warm, wet, tight, especially from this angle. Aki's breath hitches the second he's pressed in, and as his cock slowly fills you, the pleasure starting to build up again, he clumsily grabs your chin, pulling you in until your lips come crashing onto his.

He moans into your mouth as he kisses you, his tongue swirling around yours, your hands fisted in his collar to drag him in even closer. He buries his cock in deeper, all the way, and it's so much, too much — His dick is so sensitive he can hardly stand it, and it's so damn messy when he thrusts in, the shaft smeared with his cum, your pussy dripping with your own arousal. He pulls his lips away from yours to gasp for breath, starting to fuck you to a steady rhythm, as best he can handle.

His head is cloudy, all his limbs feel light, and when he buries himself in the tight warmth of your cunt, he finds himself drowning in the feeling. You feel so good, so amazing — You're so warm, so close, and there's so much pleasure. So much, so much, so much, and, God, he's going to lose his fucking mind.

Your hand holds the back of his head, fingers threading through his soft hair. When he suddenly thrusts into you hard, you whimper, gripping close to the scalp, sending tingles down his neck and over his shoulders. Aki presses feverish kisses to your cheek, your jaw, your nose, and when he pulls back, his forehead falls to press against yours. His words are mumbled softly from his throat, barely more than a whisper.

You take me so well, you know that?

He's forehead to forehead with you then, his topknot coming looser and looser as your hands tug at his hair with every rough thrust. Aki can feel sweat dripping from his brow, can hear the wet squelch of his cock fucking into your soaked cunt.

You want me to fuck you harder, baby? Tell me what you want, I wanna make you cum.

You nod and babble without a second thought, Yeah, Aki, please.

Aki gasps — Oh my God… — His pace growing faster, less contained. It's hard for him to breathe, even harder for him to think, but the way you say his name is so amazing, so perfect, all he knows is that he needs to hear you say it again. He doesn't care who hears anymore, he doesn't care that you're both getting louder and louder, your moans turning into screams. All he cares about is you, you, you.

Aki grips your waist tighter, tight enough you're sure his grip will bruise. He commands breathlessly, "Want you to say my name again. Tell me who's fucking you so good right now."

His voice is all it takes to have you oblige: You chant his name, over and over again, tell him, You are, you are, Aki. Each time it falls from your lips, his heart skips a beat, his dick throbs and holy shit — He needs to give you his cum, he needs to finish with you, more than he thinks he's needed anything in this goddamn world.

With each thrust in, he's hitting that perfect sweet spot deep in your core, pushing you to the edge. You feel it coming, your breath starting to quicken, your muscles starting to tense, the pleasure boiling and boiling and —

"Aki!" You cry out his name, your eyes screwing shut, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck, "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum…"

"Yeah, h-hah, I'm close too," Aki presses a quick, faint kiss to your forehead, his lips soft, his touch tender. Your high approaches with a rush of adrenaline and waves of pleasure, and just before you fall to pieces, just as you're reaching your peak, Aki's deep and smooth voice mutters instructions that push you right over the edge.

Cum for me. Get my dick nice and wet, pretty girl.

You're falling apart for him then, your whole body tensing, your hands clamoring at his back, grabbing fistfuls of his dress shirt, your cunt throbbing around his dick; you bury your head in his shoulder to stifle your noise, but Aki can still hear your moans, your wobbly chants of his name. Aki, Aki, Aki — Over and over again, so fucking desperate, so pretty, and all for him.

Aki presses a firm hand to the back of your head, holding you there, close to himself. He fucks you clumsily, his hips beginning to stutter, and when he feels you cum on him, squeezing like a vice around his cock, he can't hold himself back from riding the same high.

He shoves himself in deep, fucking you shallowly through his orgasm, his cock spilling inside, filling you with the last of his cum. He gasps out your name as he finishes, incoherent strings of curses and gasps alongside it — Fuck, fuck, feels so- Oh God, babygirl… — his voice high-pitched, strained. His vision goes white, his hands tremble as he holds onto your sides, and his whole body shudders before his muscles relax.

Time appears frozen in place for a few short moments. You begin to catch your breath, your heart rate slowing down, the high you were feeling starting to fade. Once exhaustion hits your limbs, your body slumps, and Aki holds you up, muttering quietly into your ear, "I've got you."

His breath feels warm on your cheek as he exhales shallow gasps. Your eyelids feel heavy, sleepy, the warmth of his body held close to yours just amplifying the feeling. Aki whispers, "You okay?" And when you nod your head, he softly instructs, "Here. I'm gonna set you down. Put your arms around me."

You wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders, and very carefully, Aki puts you down, making sure you've regained your stability before he fully lets go.

Everything starts to become clearer as Aki helps you get dressed, one of his hands kept on your waist to steady you. He pulls up your pants, buttons them, tucks your shirt in so it looks orderly. He brushes messy strands of hair from your face, his fingertips brushing over the marks on your skin, over your neck — Undeniable proof that he was there, that this was real. Even now, he still finds it hard to believe.

Perhaps he should be angry with you, perhaps he should scold you for what happened. But… Honestly, after taking out his stresses on you, he feels too calm to make a big deal out of it.

He fixes himself next: he pulls up his slacks and re-clasps his belt buckle. He bends down to snatch his suit jacket from the ground, pulling it back over his shoulders and buttoning it up. He grasps his tie, straightening it, pulling to make it tight.

His gaze meets yours as he's reaching up into his hair, grasping the loose hair tie to pull it out, dark, messy locks falling around his face. "You're not talking," He says, crooking an eyebrow, "You must be tired."

You groggily reply, "Mhmm… I am. Really tired." You pause, nearly losing your train of thought when you look at him, admiring the way he looks with his hair down, so pretty — But once you find it again, you ask, "Do you think anyone saw us?"

Aki takes a quick glance at the entrance to the alley. The traffic seems to have cleared, with much less people walking by than before. Nothing seems suspicious, nothing seems out of the ordinary, and when he looks towards the other side of the alleyway, he concludes that the two of you are still very much alone.

He shakes his head and replies, "No, no. I don't think so."

Although your brain still feels hazy and muddled, and your body feels weak and weary, you've begun to come to your senses. The reality of the situation, of what happened, hits you all at once, and as if he can read your mind, Aki tells you, "We don't have to talk about any of this, if you don't want to."

With his hair tie around his wrist, he grabs his hair, tying it up neatly into his signature topknot, nice and tight. He shoves his hand into the pocket of his suit jacket once he's done.

"No, it's fine, it's…" You avert your eyes for a moment, trying to think, "It's okay. To talk about it, I mean. I don't regret anything."

Aki hums, "That's good to know."

He finds his cigarettes, pulling one out and sticking it between his teeth. Then, his lighter, and he tilts his head away from you to strike the wheel, a small flame bringing his cigarette to life.

To break the silence, you ask him, "You gonna make me go back to work now?"

Aki shrugs his shoulders. "C'mon," He replies, putting his lighter back in his pocket, smoke wisping up from the end of his cig, "I'm not that mean. You live around here? I'll walk you home, I'll tell Makima you got sick or something."

"No, I don't. They had me staying at Public Safety for now."

Aki takes a long drag in from his cigarette. The nicotine soothes his lungs, relaxing his body and his mind. He feels calmer, more composed, his worries melting away. Perhaps that's why, after he's exhaled the smoke from his lungs, when he opens his mouth next, he's saying to you, "I'll take you back to my place, then."

"What?" You exclaim, "No way, that's not necessary."

"I won't be there, I still have work I need to get done today. I'll give you my keys, you can leave whenever you're ready. Or stay until I get back, it's up to you."

"But-" You're about to protest, but instead, you sigh in defeat. "Alright, fine. You missed a spot, by the way."

"Huh?"

You grab his shirt collar, still smeared with a bright red lipstick stain, and tuck it into his jacket. In the dim light, it's difficult to tell, but you swear you can see the slightest tinge of pink dawn on Aki's cheeks. He says nonchalantly, "Oh, thanks."

Tapping his cigarette with his finger to scatter the ash, Aki brings his free hand to your waist, holding it hesitantly, his eyes scanning your face as if he's waiting for some kind of objection. When there is none, he brings his cigarette back to his lips, taking another drag before abruptly asking, "Did Makima assign you a buddy yet?"

"...What's that?"

"Everyone at Public Safety has a partner for going on patrols and such. It's safer that way, to work in pairs," Aki explains, "You should be mine."

"Huh? Really?" You huff a dry laugh and lean back further against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest. "You're joking, right?"

"Nope." When he answers, his voice sounds stern and serious as ever, true to his words. "My last buddy quit, so now I don't have one."

"That's not what I meant. I mean like… Why would you ask me? I thought you hated my guts." You scoff, "You really wanna be buddies with a devil?"

Aki eyes you up and down, his expression poker-faced. "Considering what I just did with said devil, I don't think it's so crazy." He tilts his head upwards, exhaling smoke into the afternoon sky. "I'll take back my proposal if you're not interested."

"No, I'm…" You blurt out, looking away sheepishly, "I'm interested."

"Good. I'll give the paperwork to Miss Makima. You'll have to sign some things tomorrow."

As seconds bleed into minutes, puffy white clouds passing idly in the sky, Aki finishes his cigarette, dropping it to the ground and stamping it out with the heel of his shoe. He takes a step back from you, looking down, checking to make sure he looks in order.

There's still one more thing lingering in your mind, and so, you ask him, "Hey, Aki."

Aki looks up, "Yeah?"

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

Aki chuckles. He reaches down, grabbing his sword sheath from off the floor. "Yeah, I do. I thought so when I first saw you."

You huff, "Wish you'd have just admitted to that from the start."

"Well," Aki stands up straight, tossing the strap of his sheath over his shoulder. A soft, ever-so slight smile forms on his face. "If I had done that, we wouldn't have had as much fun, now would we?"

He rustles around in his pockets, finding his keys. The keyring jingles when he places them in your open hands. You examine them: there's a couple of silver keys, a metal tag with his last name, and a small label of a three digit number. His apartment number, you assume.

"So…" You start, looking up at him, "I guess this means we'll be working together from now on, yeah? You better not argue with me the whole time. I'd like to do my job in peace, you know."

Aki smiles a little bit wider. "Don't worry. I think we'll get along just fine."

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

The endless lull of the clock on the wall would be enough to make Aki fall asleep, if he wasn't busy finishing up paperwork.

He sighs, learning back further in his office chair, rubbing some of the tiredness from his eyes with his hands. Even though he rushed to the Public Safety building the second he was finished with his assignments, it still feels like he's been here forever. Thankfully, he's nearly done filling out papers. Soon, he'll be able to head home.

As he stares absentmindedly at the ceiling, counting each speckle of popcorn in the drywall, he wonders if you're still at his place, or if you've left already. He told you to make yourself at home, so perhaps you're still there, watching late-night television. Maybe you raided his fridge and ate all his leftovers.

A small part of him hopes you'll be there when he arrives, greeting him at the door as he walks in. Or maybe curled up asleep on the couch, because you couldn't stay awake any longer. He definitely wouldn't blame you.

A gentle knock at the door stirs him from his thoughts. Aki sits up straight, and a voice from behind it quietly asks, "Can I come in?"

"Yes." Aki answers, and he swivels his chair towards the door just as it opens. A woman with long, braided red hair steps in, and she greets him with a soft smile and a wave.

"How was today?" Makima asks, closing the door, then crossing her arms behind her back. "What do you think of our new recruit? Did you two get along?"

"They're…" Aki narrows his eyes. He taps the tip of his pen idly against the desk. "...Interesting."

"Do you think they'll be useful?"

Aki scoffs, "They like to mess around more than they like to work, but it's nothing we can't whip back into shape, so, yes. I would say so."

"Hm, alright," Makima places a hand to her chin, cocking her head slightly. "I saw the paperwork you left on my desk. You made a request to change your buddy, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes ma'am. Is that okay?"

"Of course. I'm just surprised is all. I thought for sure you two would end up hating each other. I suppose I was wrong."

Aki stays silent for a moment. Yeah, that's what he thought too, wasn't it? When this day started, all he could do was count down the minutes until it was over in his head, until he wouldn't have to deal with you anymore. But now, he can't even focus on his paperwork because he's too busy thinking about you, too busy wondering when he'll get to see you again.

Damn, when did he get so obsessed? Was it by your doing, or was it his?

He doesn't know, so he just shakes his head and replies, "I thought so too. But I guess… I don't."

Makima eyes him up and down for a moment. "Well, as long as you fill out all the necessary paperwork, and make sure you get our new recruit to fill it out as well, I can approve your request."

Aki nods. "Okay, thank you."

Makima turns to leave. Aki turns back to his paperwork. The clock continues to tick, and his pen scratches the desk as he checks a box, then messily signs his name in cursive. The door opens with a creak, Makima takes one step out, but then she abruptly turns around.

"Oh, and Hayakawa?"

Aki looks up. "Yeah?"

"The next time I have you two patrol together, make sure you actually get some work done. I'm enlisting you two to hunt devils, not fuck on the job."

And with that, Makima steps out of the office, leaving Aki to stare wide-eyed and red-faced at the door as it swings shut.

credit to @cyancherub 's fic gunsmoke in mirrors for inspiration

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki x reader #aki hayakawa #aki hayakawa smut #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader

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asleep-kat · 7 months

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Ships/duo names in LMK

Sooooo, there's alot of ship/duo names in lmk. So i thought, hey maybe i should compile all of them into one post! Shouldn't be too hard, right?

Haha anyways, just some things to note : most ships/duo names will have two or more names due to it being somewhat obscure ( and sometimes kinda problematic, but i'm adding it either way ). And i might've also missed some, so if you know another obscure ship or whatever, lmk in the tags or comments ^^

Most popular name used in this color

Least popular is still in black text

If there is no yellow text, then that means that either all of them are widely used or that i am not sure which one is more popular yet

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Sunburst duo - Monkey king & MK

Soysauce duo - Macaque & MK

Fallenstar duo - Macaque & Monkey MK

Stonefruit trio - Macaque & Monkey king & MK

Goldendragon/meik/JadeMonkey/Carambola/Starfruit - Mei/MK

Jackfruit/M&M/Starburst duo - Mei & MK

Dragonfruit/Wasabi/Peppermint/Dragonfire - Mei/Red son

Traffic light trio - Mei & Red son & MK

Disco Light Squad - MK & Mei & Redson & Nezha

Chimera/Bell Pepper Crew - Mei/Red son/MK

Wasabi Duo - Mei & Monkey king

DarkHorse Duo - Mei & Macaque

Shadowpeach - Monkey king/Macaque

Pastdowpeach/past shadowpeach - past Monkey king/past Macaque ( this is basically just shadowpeach but is, ofcourse, in the past )

frostbite - Possessed Monkey king/Macaque

Sundial/eclipse duo - Macaque & Monkey king

Hot topic duo/charcoal duo - Redson & Macaque

Freenoodles/Jiaozi/Cookbook - Tang/Pigsy

Spicynoodles - MK/Redson

List of MK & Redson names can be found here ( click here )

Flame twins - Mei & Redson

Inferno duo - Nezha & Redson

Royalty duo - Nezha & Monkey King

Lotuspeach - Nezha/Monkey king

Sunmoonlotus - Nezha/Monkey king/Macaque

Sunset trio - Nezha & Monkey King & Macaque

Lotusmoon - Nezha/Chang'e

Lotusnoodles - Nezha/MK

Flaminglotus - Nezha/Redson

Silverlotus - Nezha/Yin

Waterlily duo - Nezha & Sandy

Pinkpuppy/Mountainfire - Erlang & Nezha

Shadowhound - Erlang/Macaque

Heavenlypeaches ( or Jiankong in jttw ) - Erlang/Monkey king

Heavenlybeast - Erlang/Monkey king/Macaque

Chowchow - Erlang/Azure lion

HuntingHawk - Erlang/Peng

Violetskies - Erlang/Peng/Macaque

Heavenlytusk - Erlang/Yellowtusk

Moongaze - Erlang/Chang'e

Royalduties - Erlang/Ao Guang

Floodstudies - Erlang/Tang

Wildboar - Erlang/Pigsy

Lapdog/Presidental Election - Erlang/Not Mayor

CelestialSilk - Erlang/Spider queen

Monkie kids - MK & Mei & Pigsy & Tang & Sandy ( sometimes Monkey king, Macaque, Nezha, and Red son is included too )

Breakfastshipping - Pigsy/Tang/Monkey king/Macaque ( aka all of MK's dads ) ( oh and sometimes Sandy is included too )

MKdadshipping - Pigsy/Tang/Monkey king

FishBallNoodles/sandwich shipping - Sandy/Pigsy/Tang

Sandwich trio - Sandy & Pigsy & Tang

The demon bull family - Demon bull king & Princess iron fan & Red son ( maybe even the bull clones too? Idk )

The brotherhood - Monkey king & Macaque & Azure lion & Peng & Yellowtusk

The pilgrims/great companions - Tang Sanzang & Monkey king & Ao Lie & Zhu Baije & Sha Wujing

Falseidle duo/Jadecicada - Ao Lie & Tang Sanzang

Sunshower - Monkey king & Sha Wujing

FreePeachBuns - Tang/Monkey King/Pigsy

Freepeaches/suntang/peachtea/Tangypeaches/Goldenpeach/Goldenpages/Peachbug/Stinkbug/Sepiapages/Immortalscribe/Peachyquill - Tang/Monkey king

Suntang/Tripsun/Tripisun/Goldenpeach - Monkey king/Tang Sanzang (Tripitaka) ( Both Suntang and Goldenpeach is used for Tripitaka/Wukong and Tang/Wukong )

Inkypages/hibiscus tea/tintedLenses - Macaque/Tang

FruityTea/FreeFruits/FruityLenses/Mixedberries/Mixedtea - Macaque/Monkey King/Tang

Stableboys/Dragonpeach - Ao lie/Monkey king

WhiskerMisters - Ao lie & Azure lion

Goldrush duo - Golden tusk & Monkey king

celestialsteeds (duo) - Golden tusk & Azure lion

gajasimha shipping - Golden tusk/Azure lion

Eclipsemane/BlueEclipse - Monkey king/Azure lion/Macaque

Lionpeach/goldenlion/sunstone/Fuzzypeaches/TamarinShipping/MalachitesunShipping - Azure lion/Monkey king

BlueMoon/Kalaharishipping - Macaque/Azure lion

Barbeque Shipping/Bullion - Demon bull king/Azure lion

Moonpaw - Chang'e/Azure lion

Saberscales duo - Mei & Azure lion

Memoryscroll - Not Mayor/Azure lion

Inkyfeathers/Fuzzyfeathers/Goldengriffin/griffinshipping - Peng/Azure lion

Blackquill/ShadowWings - Macaque/Peng

Phoenixfree/Phoenixtea - Tang/Peng

FlyingPigs - Pigsy/Peng

Moonmonkey/Moonstoneshipping/Peachcake - Chang'e/Monkey king

BlackBunny/blackberry/shadowmoon/shadowbunny/DoubleMoon/NewMoon - Chang'e/Macaque

FruitCake/reflectionshipping - Monkey King/Macaque/Chang'e

Moonduo/Mooncake duo - Chang'e & Macaque

Peachcakeduo - Chang'e & Monkey king

Sugarplum/StormOcean/Lunar tides/Mangotea/Hurricaneshipping/Shadowwave - Sandy/Macaque

Seamonkey/Bluemonkey - Sandy/Monkey king

Silktea - Sandy/Huntsman

SeaPig/Seasalt - Sandy/Pigsy

Jasminetea/Bluetea - Sandy/Tang

Monkfish duo - Sandy & Tang

Dandylion/sealion - Sandy/Azure lion

Matcha duo - Sandy & Mei

Sleepover trio - Sandy & Mei & MK

RoyalArachnid/Ladybug/ScorpionSpider - Spider queen/Scorpion queen

ShadowVenom/Blackwidow - Macaque/Spider Queen

VenomPeach/Royalty/PoisonPeach - Monkey king/Spider Queen

DragonVenom - Mei/Spider Queen

Silkdragon - Ao lie/Spider Queen

Nightshade/IronSpider - Spider Queen/Princess iron fan

Venombunny/spidermoon/venombunnie - Chang'e/Spider Queen

Sleepbug/moonbuggy - Chang'e/Scorpion Queen

IntellectualSting - Tang/Scorpion Queen

Peachbun - Pigsy/Monkey king

Inkynoodles/SmokedBacon/Squidink/SquidInkNoodle - Macaque/Pigsy

RoastedCake/BaconMoonpie/PinkMoon/Baconpancakes/moonpie - Pigsy/Chang’e

Ironbull/Irondumpling - Princess iron fan/Demon bull king

BBQ - Pigsy/Demon bull king

BullMonkey/Sweetbeef - Demon bull king/Monkey king

Ironpeach - Princess iron fan/Monkey king

IronDragon - Mei/Princess iron fan

BlackFire - Macaque/Red son

Spicypeach - Red son/monkey king

bloodymoon - Red son/Chang'e

Firewall/fireant - Red son/Syntax

Techsupport - Red son & Syntax

Cyberhunt - Huntsman/Syntax

ShadowCoding - Macaque/Syntax

MonkieTech - MK/Syntax

Silkymoon - Huntsman/Macaque

Silkpeach/Sunset(shipping)/Webbedpeach - Huntsman/Monkey king

SunsetShipping - Huntsman/Macaque/Monkey King

Dragonsilk - Huntsman/Mei's dad

GiantPeach - Monkey king/Goliath (strong spider)

Giantshipping - Sandy/Goliath

Sweetpotatonoodles - Tang/Goliath

SpiderDragon/KomodoDragon - Mei/Goliath

SpinDragon - Mei/Spindrax

Toxicinsanity/Toxicsanity/Ghostspider - Not Mayor/Syntax

Shadowpuppet/Paranormal - Macaque/Not Mayor

Ghostpepper - Red son/Not Mayor

Mysticbones - Monkey King/Not Mayor

Ghostscholar - Tang/Not Mayor

Blizzard Duo - MK & LBD

White void duo - Azure lion & LBD

Skullkey - LBD/Not Mayor

RottenPlums - Macaque/LBD

Rottenpeach/PeachDrupe - LBD/Monkey king

Stardust/moondust/MilkyWay - LBD/Chang'e

Rottenfruits - Monkey king/LBD/Macaque

Spiderspirit - Huntsman/LBD

PeachyNoodles - MK/Monkey King

PlumsyNoodles/ShadowNoodles - MK/Macaque

FruityNoodles - MK/Macaque/Monkey King

Orangemint - Mk & Little girl ( Bai he )

Shadowsuccessor/raspberry duo - Macaque & Little girl ( Bai he )

Darksoynoodles - ink MK/MK

Doodleduo/Chaos duo - ink MK & MK

Inkyflames (shipping) - ink MK/Samadhi Mei

Scoville trio - Ink MK/samadhi fire Mei/Redson

Blackpepper - Ink MK/Redson

Mosaic trio/Mirage trio/Abstract trio - Ink MK & MK & Reflection MK

SpecialDelivery/DoublePackage/DoubleWrap - MK & Delivery clone

MetallicGold/GoldenHues - MK & Artist clone

starvingartist - MK/Artist clone

GoldenBirthday/FunkyMonkey - MK & Porty clone

Partyanimal - MK/Porty clone

DecorativeDelivery/ArtisticMotivation/AutoPainting - Delivery clone & Artist clone

Partyfavor - Artist clone & Porty clone

Graffiti(shipping) - Artist clone/Porty clone

PizzaParty/SurpriseParty/CarStereo/CarRadio/DeliveryDisco -Delivery clone & Porty clone

Discodragon - Porty clone/Mei

PaintedDragon - Artist clone/Mei

Mixtape/Glowstick/Firebeats - Porty clone/Red son

Firealpaca- Redson/artist clone

Hot wheels- Redson/delivery clone

Hot heels/customer service/Redshoe - Redson/shoe store employee

Locket shipping/Icytop - Not Mayor/Shoe Store Employee

Hovershoes - Hoverboard guy/Shoe Store Employee

Snapdragon - Demon accountant/Dragon stylist

GoldenPork - Pigsy/Jin

SilverPork - Pigsy/Yin

FastFood - Pigsy/Jin/Yin

Fizzyshipping/sunkist - MK/Jin

Slushieshipping - Mei/Yin

Butterflypeanoodles - Pigsy/Tang/Sandy/Yin

Shadowbubbles - Monkey king/Goldfish demon

Wetfruits - Macaque/Goldfish demon

Milky way/JadeRabbit/Dragonbubble/Mooncakedragon/moondragon - Chang'e/Mei

Souldragon (shipping)/WolfDragon - Kui mulang/Ao lie

Jadewolf duo - Kui mulang & Ao lie

starrymoon - Macaque/Kui mulang

Eclipse twins - Rumble & Savage ( Macaque's clones )

Megalopeach - Sun Wukong/sans undertale ( true, canon, and real and i'm not ashamed that i've made art of it before )

Rosegold duo - Mk & Steven universe ( hi )

( Thanks gh0st-t0wn3, Lmkthings-ela, Anon, my oomf goldendragonleaf, Anxious-anon-time, and tsatsked for helping me with most of these ^^ )

#Lmk ship #Lmk #Lego monkie kid #Monkie kid #Idk what to tag uhhhh #Ships #Some of these ships had me look the other way while i wrote it down 🫠#Shadowpeach #Freenoodles #Chimera shipping #Spicynoodles #Dragonfruit #Sunburst duo #soysauce duo #traffic light trio

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ineylesian · 2 years

Text

NO LEAF CLOVER

─ SIMON “GHOST” RILEY X FEM! READER

PREFACE | this is continuation of another fic, “me, or him?”. it’s advised that you read that before this

AO3 | MASTERLIST | CODENAME: FANGS MASTERLIST

WORD COUNT | 8k

SUMMARY | you had made your choice, all you had to do was execute.

however, a small tinge of you knew that you could never be true to one side; and you would face the grim consequences of disloyalty in the vision of never resting nightmares and a smoking bullet.

WARNINGS | angst, smut, canon typical violence, vaginal fingering, a mix of rough and kinda soft sex, hard overstimulation, finger fucking, cum eating, make up sex if you could even consider it that, implied graves x reader (and a little action), biting, scratching, clothed sex, grinding, you make ghost cum in his pants, he does the same to you dw, unprotected p in v, cumming inside, thigh fucking, ghost literally fucks the shit out of you, but it’s angsty as hell, the mask stays on this time boys

AUTHOR’S NOTE | still can’t stand the people that say ghost is completely emotionless bro, like yeah he’s an edge lord BUT he cares about those closest to him and that’s how i portray him… my baby cakes fr fr

THIS WORK IS MEANT TO BE WRITTEN IN AN ADULT READER’S POINT OF VIEW. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

11:07 PM.

FUERZAS ESPECIALES HQ // LAS ALMAS.

“Exterior squad 414, report, over.”

Click.

“All good here, sir.”

Radio waves fell shallow as the remaining patrols checked in, leaving only the soft rattle of metal against concrete to your ears. A few seconds passed before the canister popped, engulfing the narrow exterior you stood in with heavy smoke, soon giving way to an array of green lasers on the walls. You ducked under the first two, gloved hands sliding along cold stone to fall into a prone next, just barely shifting past the harsh buzz after a few slow movements.

A quiet hum responded to the force of your hand on fluorescent red, leaving the last section of the underground tunnels in Fuerzas completely unguarded.

You crouched down beside the first corner in the system, pulling a flare from your pocket, setting it alight, and stepping away. A single spark shot from the pyrotechnic before it was crushed by your foot, the bundle of ashes seeping from the short lived explosion allowing you to trace a check mark onto the wall with your foot.

“Exterior squad 182 to Commander Graves, permission to send traffic?”

Your eyes narrowed at the panic steadily climbing each word, prominent even through static.

“This is Graves actual, send traffic.”

“There’s a hostile bird inbound, sir. Approximately 2 clicks away and approaching fast.”

A distant curse carried over the comms, followed by a short bout of silence save a few shuffles.

“Copy that, 182. Lock down and stand by for further instruction.”

Creaking metal followed your return to the surface, sliding a pair of binoculars out of your pocket, and peaking out above the fortress walls. The violent whir of fan blades led your vision to the southeast tower, clicking down on an effective zoom before holding the lens up to your eyes, spotting Price behind a sharp glint of light. A brief wave was shared between you before he raised a hand to his comms, giving you the green light to move.

“Cobra to Graves, what’s your location?”

“Heading to the FE General, be careful on your way over.”

Your fingers fell from the comms button on your shoulder, turning your attention to the array of warehouses ahead. A minute of dodging your own soldiers and you were kneeling beside a sequence of panels on the 4th warehouse down, sliding a screwdriver into each bolt while lightly prying at the edge. Once the metal surface plate popped off, you unclipped a small canister from your vest, tugging the cover off with your teeth before dropping it into the filter and fastening it back to the wall.

You stood back up at the cue of a soft hiss from the depths of the ventilation system, tugging yourself away from the building before it spread outside.

Price had called your part in their covert operation “The Fixxa Uppa”, point and blank. You had held your tongue at the lack of empathy he held for your situation, giving strict orders to kill any Shadows on sight, and apprehend Graves.

Quiet footsteps and sand hidden tracks led you to the Fuerzas Especiales General building, still pristine in coating and flying the Los Voqueros flag. You sighed at the recollection of Graves’ refusal to tarnish what represented your old allies, scolding your soldiers about reputation and the idiocy of raising an American flag in Las Almas.

The lower region of your chest pulsed slowly at the thought of Shepherd, now exposed and helplessly losing thousands of soldiers by the minute. Yet, your mind also flicked to the flip side: Graves, frantically barking out orders over Shadow Company’s comms while providing as much support as he could give. And you? Perhaps the rapid shift of your pulse with each waking step proved that you really did feel bad, but you and everyone that knew you were well aware that you despised Shadow Company.

Yet, you had stayed, fiercely protecting and slaughtering the men under you all the same. Every action for the sake of the man who you were set out to betray.

A heavy series of explosions coaxed your steps swifter, knuckles raising to deliver three swift knocks on the conference room’s door. The familiar rap pattern led the door to swing open almost instantly, your wrist being seized in the process.

Your eyes parted as you were pressed against the door, eyelids clamping down to adjust to the loss of light. Reopening, you were welcomed the slim, familiar outline of Graves, light pants representing the life you couldn’t see.

You clicked the flashlight fastened to your vest on, illuminating his face in a soft white glow. His skin glistened with a light coat of sweat and blood, hair disheveled, belt almost bare, rifle hanging carelessly from his side. Your gaze slowly drifted to his face, taking in the sight of his teeth fastened to his upper lip, eyes drilling into your own in a tight squint.

Any upcoming words of concerns that had planned on parting your mouth were washed away just seconds later, in their place the flaming sensation of Graves’ lips sealing over yours, swiftly, aggressively, filled to the brim with indecipherable motive.

Graves never kissed you on missions.

Yet here you were, inhaling the scent of smoke and pine on his collar while his blood dribbled down your chin, coating your tongue with metal as he brought your faces closer together. One of your hands subconsciously reached for the back of his head, keeping his mouth firmly planted against your own while he feverishly sank his teeth into your bottom lip, drawing a harsh breath from your nose.

The sudden blast of a breach charge broke you apart, followed by the rise of gunfire on the first floor. You frantically reached down, fumbling with your belt before snatching a case of 5.56 mm cartridge from the side, fastening it to Graves’ waist.

“They’re after you.” Your words came out jumbled, too focused on turning him towards the emergency exit just one room over. “You have to get out of here.”

Your efforts fell to no avail, however, as Graves was quick to pull your wrists down, rooting the both of you in place.

“I’m not leaving you here, Fangs.” He retorted, swiftly coaxing you behind a desk before crouching down, softly running a hand over your arm before falling to his gun. “We live together, or we die together. Remember?”

Of course, how could you forget?

The phrase echoed in hand with choruses of flying bullets and screams as a small group of your soldiers barged into the room, narrowly avoiding incoming spurts of fire. You raised your gun to rest against the desk’s surface, peaking over the side to ensure you were firing in dead areas. After spending the entirety of your mag, you pulled your rifle back, silently hoping they had noticed you flick your gun’s muzzle flash on.

An aggressive sequence of beeps fell close to your ears as you slipped a new clip into your weapon, leading your eyes to widen in shock at the sight of a semtex laid to rest on the surface right above you.

You threw your gun to the side before kicking Graves as hard as you could, sending him staggering a safe distance away and heading in the opposite direction. Bullets chased every fraction of your explosion-illuminated movement, forcing you to slide down on the floor next to one of your men.

However, you were only welcomed to the sight of glistening knife harshly jutting into the chest of your cover, spurting a hefty coat of blood onto your cheek. Your eyes widened in shock as the solider grabbed hold of the arm that held the blade inside of him, twisting himself and the attacker back into you, pushing away to leave him falling straight into you.

Sweltering winds kissed the hairs plastered to your face as the force sent you flying backward, crashing through the window behind you, fraying your skin with minuscule shards of glass. Your waist was roughly seized by the man on top of you, swapping your bodies seconds before you smacked against the ground.

You cried out in air deprived silence, hearing a series of cracks erupt throughout your upper region as the impact rolled you to the side, melding the world a fleeting series of red and white before fading to black.

—-

ONE WEEK LATER.

beep.

…beep.

BEEP.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“Cobra… you hear me? Try opening your eyes.”

The words reigned similar to static in your head, each inhale pooling a deep ache in the front of your head. A jittered breath pressed it’s way out of you as your eyelids pried apart, leaving you to clear the atmosphere with a few blinks before looking to the side. On the side of your bed stood Price, sending an affirming nod your way while he set a change of clothes on the table beside you.

“Welcome back, soldier.”

You slowly shifted your way up against the pillows, wiping a hand along your eyes while the other detached the ventilator mask from your mouth.

“The mission.” You breathed out, eyes snapping to Price. “What happened?”

“Well, your accident was distracting enough to stop the mission before we could complete it.” He started, offering a bottle of water your way. “We had to drop everything to save you.”

He paused, gaze drifting to your watch, surface glass now split unevenly down the middle.

“I was hoping you could help us. Graves is completely off our radar, and we need to take care of him before moving in on Hassan.”

Your breath hitched, hand clamping down on the bottle of water resting above your lips.

“Our mission is kill on sight.” He continued, lips settling into a thin line. “But I’m willing to give him a choice before that. Join the Task Force, or die.”

You remained silent for some time, taking a swift glance at your watch before looking back over to Price.

“Alright.”

“Good.” He nodded, lightly patting your shoulder before standing up. “We’re meeting up at Flint’s in a bit. Join us if you’d like.”

Darkness enveloped your vision once his footsteps completely faded, hands growing clammy at the thought of even putting a hand on that watch. However, you’d agreed to it, and Price had certainly done you a favor by dropping the mission to save you.

Sighing, you leaned forward, legs kicking off the bed to stretch before you slid off of the sheets, wobbling slightly until your body adjusted to carrying your weight once more. Dim infirmary garments were swapped for one of your “civvy” outfit, leaving only the watch on the table as you slipped your right shoe on.

Cool metal snaked around your fingers, lightly securing hold around your wrist as you brought it down, following a soft click of worn silver and carbon fastened against your skin. You tapped on the messages app next, sliding down to Graves’ contact before placing your finger over it. Your teeth lightly rocked against each other at the blank canvas of screen before you, fingers hovering over the small keyboard as you thought. Ever so slowly, they began to move.

YOU

“Still alive?”

SENT. 5:48 PM.

Your watch sat idle as you pushed through the front doors of Flint’s, waving your hellos to Price, Gaz, and Soap before sliding into a booth nearby. Soft strums of an electric guitar fell to ring around your ears as a waitress walked up to you, setting a small glass of water in front of you with a smile.

A part of you hoped he didn’t answer. That this could all be over and you could leave Las Almas behind

But you knew it wasn’t that easy. It never was.

Minutes passed before a shadow passed across your table, the sudden halt of footsteps rousing your attention. Your eyes parted in surprise at the sight of the man now sitting directly across from you, setting a shot of whiskey on the table with a soft clink.

“Ghost?”

His eyes drifted up from the rim of his glass, locking you in his usual, hard gaze.

“Knew it’d take more than a fall to kill you.” His voice drifted out low, devoid of the gritted shout he adorned during missions. “Was worried you’d gone soft.”

Your eyes dragged along the upper region of his sweatshirt, stopping at a small strip of white that sat wrapped around his neck.

“You broke my fall.”

“Smart girl.” He leaned forward, lifting his mask up a fraction to take a sip of whiskey. “Antibacterial gauze works wonders.”

Your attention broke off at the rise of a buzz on your wrist, leading you to lift the device up while flicking it on.

2 NEW MSSGS.

Your heart rate picked up with each tap, fingers drumming noisily against the table as you waited for the screen to load.

GRAVES

Christ, Fangs, thought I’d lost you.

How are you doing? You safe?

“Cobra.”

YOU

Yeah, I’m okay. What about you?

“Cobra, hey, I’m talking to you.”

GRAVES

I’m good.

Still in Las Almas?

“Fucking Hell, [name].” You felt your wrist being snagged from across the table, pulling reality back to you in the form of an annoyed glint of narrowed eyes. “Stay on task. His location, that’s it.”

A lump pushed its way past your throat, following a shallow nod as you looked back down.

YOU

Yup.

Can we meet up?

You flashed the watch in Ghost’s direction, eyes knitted in irritation at the feeling of his eyes hounding every movement of your fingertips.

“Ghost.” You pushed through partially grit teeth. “I can feel you staring at me. Stop.”

A swift glance upward showed pure negligence of your request, his gaze seemingly burning a hotter trail into your skin than before, sinking uneasiness into the veins below.

GRAVES

Shadow Company has one stocked warehouse on the outskirts of Quilán. Tomorrow work for you?

Ghost leaned over to look at your outstretched arm, giving a curt nod at the message before standing up. You followed, fingers typing one last message before showing it to him and shutting the watch off.

YOU

6pm. I’ll be there.

—-

THE NEXT DAY.

5:52 PM. QUILÁN, LAS ALMAS.

Cool winds swirled around the barren expanse of the vast plain ahead, coating your hands in tiny fragments of sand. You stopped at the foot of a tree line, spotting two sizable warehouses peaking out of a fortress of barbed wire. The sight of shifting masses atop the towers flanking each side of the perimeter led you to place your fingers against your shoulder, tapping into 141’s comms.

“Be advised, multiple armed personnel spotted.”

One of your hands raised in a wave, earning the reaction of one guard before moving forward. You imposed a sickeningly faux smile at the entrance gate, earning a series of nods from the guards stationed there as they let you in.

“Good to see you, Lieutenant.” One spoke, motioning off to the larger of the warehouses. “Commander Graves wishes to see you as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, soldier.”

You broke away from prying eyes by rounding a corner, taking a glance around to ensure no one was watching before patching into comms once more.

“Larger warehouse in 2. Cobra out.”

The earpiece was shoved into your pocket, leaving you just one stretch away from the warehouse. Turning to face the front door captivated your spine in a frigid chill, rendering your blood cold in comparison to the blazing sand chipping into your skin. A sigh pooled from the depths of your nose as your gaze dropped down to the handle, hand reaching out to hover above it whilst you waited for visuals on your team.

Your watch flashed 18:00.

Soap poked his head out from the top of the warehouse, sending a thumbs up your way before ducking back down.

Okay.

A steady groan followed the drag of metal against the floor, illuminating the pitch black interior with marengo streaks of light. Your eyes traveled along the contents of the warehouse, eventually stopping to focus in on a large mass of crates and containers, and a thin shadow looming out of the side of them.

Through shifting shadows of grey and black, you saw Graves step away from an array of ammunition boxes, holding a finger up in wait as he fastened a few clips to his belt. However, his hand only dropped flat as he glanced over, taking in the sight of you with pleasantly widened eyes.

The last of your footsteps clicked against the vast space, rousing a shuffle instead as you stopped to look up.

You couldn’t bring yourself to smile at him. Hell, you couldn’t even speak, and he knew, arms stretching out to envelop your being, holding all of you against him like he’d die if he let go. Warm hands brought themselves up to grasp lightly at the back of your shoulders, allowing your arms to snake around his neck.

The two of you stayed there for some time, long enough to numb the soft movement of your arm running down his vest. Seconds passed before the safety of a gun clicked just feet away, shooting Graves’ head up as he let you go. The attempt of his body to turn around fell to no avail as one of your hands clamped around the pistol strapped against his vest, rooting him where he stood.

Price slowly made his way towards the both of you, gun pointing solely at Graves, allowing you to step away, tossing his gun under one of the nearby crates.

“You’re gettin’ two choices here, son. Only one of ‘em is gonna let you out alive.”

Graves’ mouth fell to rest in a flat line, hands leisurely moving to rest above his head. His gaze then traveled over to you, what was once a soft meld of blues hardened into something more practical. Then, he looked up, breathing out a quiet huff of amusement at the sight.

“Join TSF 141, or die.”

Price stepped closer, watching as Graves’ eyes lowered back down to you.

“Could’ve guessed you were playing me, Fangs.” He lightly shrugged, nodding up to the man crouching on the rails above you. “Big dog Ghost up there left a little something back at the warehouse, didn’t he?”

Your eyes narrowed. The knife.

“Make the right decision, Graves.”

“The right decision?” He scoffed, flicking a finger between you and Ghost. “I’ve been giving everything I have for you, only to figure out you’ve been fucking around with him? Now you want me to join you?”

“This isn’t about him, or any of them.” You snapped back, jabbing a finger against his chest. “You knew what Shepherd did to us, and you still chose to stay with him. How can you live with yourself?”

“You’ve got one last chance, son.” The gruff call of your captain rang out, feebly smothered against airborne tension. “What’s it gonna be?”

“Who was by my side the entire time?” Graves voice pushed out low, taking your finger and turning it to push against your vest. “Only you made that decision.”

A single, deep breath pushed its way from your mouth as you brought the same hand up, ripping Shadow Company’s insignia off of your chest, dropping it to the floor, and smothering it under your boot.

“It’s not too late to change.”

His head shook slowly, taking a step back from you before lowering his hands.

“Not for you, Fangs.”

The world before you sparked into a violent surge of smoke and fire as explosions broke out from above. Gunshots scraped against the ground near you as you ran, diving behind a nearby crate to cover yourself.

Only to realize the inside was fizzing.

You were sent flying backward as the middle of the warehouse erupted into flames, the sheer force of the chain linked explosions slamming your back into the wall. Air starved lungs desperately inhaled smoke, leaving your vision blurred and burning at the thickness of the atmosphere around you.

Your arms weakly pushed against the ground, pulling you far up enough to grab the side of a table, hoisting yourself to stand with a pained groan. A massive crash echoed from across the interior, shaking the ground below you and pulsing blistering waves of smoke against your face. Another followed shortly after, only leading you to assume the roof was collapsing, the shriek of stressing metal confirming your suspicions.

Raising a hand to your shoulder, you pressed on the your radio, using your spare hand to hold your earpiece to your ear as you ran.

“Price, Soap, Gaz-“ You paused, choking on a fresh inhale of fumes. “Does anyone copy?”

Silence.

You cursed under your breath, bringing a hand up to hover against your lower face whilst running amidst the shadows. Your foot kicked against a railing, leading you to blindly turn for the stairs, narrowly avoiding falling chunks of debris from the ceiling as you neared closer to it. The thin flooring shook under each of your footsteps, the section behind you breaking off with a sharp clang just after you’d cleared it.

Sucking in the ashen material of your arm, you broke into a sprint, heading for the first gleam of light visible. Your arms rose to cross over your face, shattering glass as you dived outside, stealing harsh breaths of fresh air from the sky on your fall.

You landed in the midst of a large bush with a quiet thud, breaking into a coarse fit of coughs and retches in a desperate attempt to clear your system. Once the haze of CO2 had swept out of your lungs, you pulled yourself out of the mass of thick branches and leaves, staggering up to look at the warehouse before you.

“Cobra, do you copy?”

Your hands fumbled for the button on your shoulder, tapping into 141’s comms with a sigh of relief.

“Good here, Soap.” You responded, pacing away from the destroyed warehouse. “What’s going on with the others?”

“Don’t know, you’re the only one I could reach.”

“We need to find the others. I’ll take the second warehouse, you sweep the outside.”

“Got it.”

You let go of the comms with a hum, eyes moving up as you approached the smaller warehouse. The sudden rise of gunfire widened your eyes, clear that it came from the inside. Your boots fell hard against dry grass, kicking up heavy tracks before you jumped on top of one of the ac units hooked to the wall, using the slight leverage to pull yourself up to the hanging ladder halfway up.

A fury of dying lights sparked against the air as you peered down through the skylight, running towards the edge in sight of a vent. Gripping the ledge of the shingled roof, you slid in through the metal nailed to the wall, boots softly thudding against a metal walkway overlooking the inside. Thinly strung lights dimly lit the vast area below, only giving way to the continuous reign of bullets clanging against metal.

You dropped down to the next section, dodging weapon crates and supplies before breaking for the staircase. Frantic hands unhooked the Deagle on your belt as you grew closer to the ground floor, spurred on by the abrupt end of shots from all around. Your hands laid to rest against the nearest railing, watching with wide eyes as a lowly flashing streak of red shot past you face, and to the far side of the warehouse.

One of your arms instinctively raised against the mass detonation of the semtex fused with boxes of mines, lighting one side of the warehouse up in a raging sea of flames. Tugging the safety off of your pistol, you jumped down onto one of the crates below, kneeling against the edge in search of any signs of life against the weak light of fire. Eventually, a shadowed figure crossed not far off from where you perched, leading you to scale the line of containers in swift apprehension, keeping your movements light.

Your teeth grit firmly together at the rising waves of familiar heat brushing themselves against your skin, the waves in pursuit forcing you to climb up a layer to breathe. Eventually, your target led you to a small, void area of the warehouse, charred black, and holding a slumped body against the ash. Your eyes widened at the scarce patch of white on his face illuminated by edging embers, your breathing increasingly erratic by the second as the quiet click of a gun’s safety rang out from the shadows.

Before you could articulate a reasonable plan of action, your feet were sliding off of the containers overlooking the scene, landing just above the shadowed figure with a harsh thud. The reaction to the noise was not sufficient enough, as by the time the gun was pointed your way, you had blindly tackled them against the wall, hand moving to hold their gun up as you slid the Deagle against their chest.

A crude gunshot bounced off the walls, crawling into your ears in horrid sight of the body pinned against your leg. You stepped away from the mass of blood pooling onto the ground beneath, watching as the lifeless body of Graves slumped against the ground, his blood sickly warm on your hands. The warehouse grew silent in your wake, save the faint crackling of burning wood, ever softer the drops of red liquid falling to mix in with the rest.

“COBRA, GHOST?”

The words spoke muffled to your ears, fighting against the deafening drum of your heartbeat pounding against every crevice of your being. A hand took hold of your shoulder amongst the scorching ripples of heat, turning you to face Price, who gave you a light squeeze where his hand sat as he took your gun.

“Good work, kiddo. Let’s get you patched up.”

—-

ONE WEEK LATER.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS.

2 NEW MSSGS.

SOAP

Hey, didn’t get the chance to see you after the mission.

I owe you one, big time. Let me know when you’re free?

YOU

Tomorrow okay?

The watch fell limp against your side, following the brush of a bag hitting the ground. A briefcase was placed against your coffee table, beside you an SR-25 waiting to be taken apart.

Not an ounce of pride swelled in your chest at the achievement of killing Hassan. The honorary medal that had been draped around your chest now sat idle on the floor, particles of dust beginning to settle over the bright coat of gloss over the surface. Deft hands worked in steady motions, pooling out breaths of focused air as you pulled the weapon apart.

Your mind had been elsewhere for some time, thoughts scrambled by dull static while you sat atop that building, sparking not even an ounce of a reaction out of you as you pulled the trigger. Instead of confirming your kill, you pulled the sniper back, silently disappearing as soon as you’d arrived.

The visions had been relentless. When you closed your eyes, you saw horrified faces and snow white bandages stained red, the scent of gore and death so evident, so real that you choked on your breath. And you saw yourself, watching Soap and Gaz carry him away, earning nothing but stale breathing from blood coated nostrils.

You’d been told he had a 15% chance of survival. That was, before you left to finish Hassan and the cartel. It was said that chance would rise to at least 70 with a blood transfusion. They advised against it, you were taking his job, steady aim was more important that everything else. Just a little missing blood could have thrown off your aim, let one of the world’s most notorious terrorists walking free after dropping a missile on the Pentagon.

You did it anyways, taking the gamble that the doctors wouldn’t tell Price. Guess it paid off well — well enough for the rest of the world, anyway.

A quiet clink shuffled against styrofoam as you placed the last part of the sniper rifle in the briefcase, smoothing over the scope with your hand before shutting it and flipping the locks closed.

It was one thing to be a hero.

And another to be a killer.

The vision of Ghost wasn’t the only nightmare that haunted you since it happened. Graves, the blood, his blood on your hands; the .50 round of your Deagle in his chest.

His funeral wasn’t special, at least from what you’d heard. Your failure to show resulted in a brief visit some few hours after, placing the Desert Eagle beside the small pile of tempered soil that covered him. Ironically enough, it had been more like a late return.. you’d almost forgotten the pistol was originally his.

The door to your temporary apartment clicked shut, leaving you to the garage, and a brand new Porsche, one of the many thanks of service from the military for your success in killing Hassan. If only they knew about Shepherd, the Shadows.. Makarov.

Almost 15 hours and 2 full tanks of gas later led you to the coast of New England, “Her lady Boston” as specifically named by Price. The TSF had a good majority of their American warehouses here, probably as close to the UK as they could get.

Your legs fell limp as you let off the brakes for the last time, shifting into park before leaning your head back against the headrest. A few stretches later and you were off to a small facility on the edge of the city, steadily welcome to the chirp of seagulls and scent of the Atlantic.

An automated door and a cool gust of wind welcomed you to the inside, nodding a greeting to the receptionist before heading for the lounge. Upon seeing Soap, Gaz, and Price, you waved, to which all stopped their conversation and turned your way.

“Aye, if it isn’t the infamous Cobra.” Soap snarked, ruffling your hair with a smile. “Welcome to New England.”

“There’s a whole lot to do here.” Gaz added, giving you a pat on the back. “Hope you’ll hang with us a little.”

Lastly, you glanced over to Price who had just finished putting out his cigar, nodding to you before pulling you into a quick side hug.

“Good to see you, kiddo.”

You breathed out a small sigh of acknowledgment before sliding into the seat beside him, setting your briefcase beside your foot.

“What have you guys been up to?”

Soap and Gaz glanced at each other, then to Price, who shrugged.

“We’ve just been laying low for now.” Soap answered, following a nod from Gaz. “Waiting for Laswell to dig up what she can on Makarov.”

“Shit, Makarov..” Your fingers drifted along the table, the image of Price’s face upon looking at the man’s picture popping into your head. “And Shepherd?”

“As much as I’d like to go after him, the bastard’s untouchable right now.”

You nodded, figuring going after Shepherd would be a waste of time in this state. You’d need a whole lot of evidence to even begin to prove his guilt, and right now, you had none.

“You should get goin’, it’s bad to keep a geezer like him waiting.” Price’s voice rose to your ears, motioning a finger to your briefcase. “Room 24.”

“Thanks.”

Wood steadily creaked under your shoes as you set off in the direction Price had pointed to, briefcase wrapped tightly around your fingers. The hairs on your neck rose with each step down the hallway, forcing you to look down while fiddling with the keys in your other hand. No one had seen him for days beside the doctors, and not even they had permission to say anything regarding his condition.

The sound of the key turning in the doorknob made you step away, running a hand against the clammy skin on your face before placing it on the door.

A hushed creak followed your first step into the room, streaks of harsh light from the hallway clashing against the dim world inside. Your eyes fell into a squint at the loss of light from shutting the door, kicking your shoes off before taking a few steps forward. Seeing as there was nowhere else to go but the kitchen and bathroom, you peaked around the corner to what you presumed was the bedroom, gaze landing on a partially shadowed figure sitting on the edge of the bed.

The sound of the briefcase hitting the floor roused his attention, bringing his features to the light as you flicked the nightstand lamp on.

Part of you wished you hadn’t. Maybe it would’ve been smarter to leave the briefcase and go.

You bit back a grimace at the sight. Your eyes shut momentarily, blinking a few times, unsure then if you even be sure you were looking at Ghost. Throughout all the injuries, all the years, this was the worst you had seen him, less harsh on the eyes, almost.. small. His gaze mirrored that of a sick child, taking in the pure look of visual disgust reflecting your irises.

You weren’t really disgusted, but it sure looked that way.

“Just came to drop off your rifle.”

The words came out in a simple, quick murmur. You turned to leave, biting back a hitch of your breath at the hand clasping around your wrist.

Damn, he was fast.

Silence was quick to latch onto the atmosphere, dripping an uncomfortable buzz into the hand that held you. Your eyes glanced upward, taking in the sight of defiantly cold irises stricken with something.. unusual, the very sight itself turning discomfort to panic.

“Why?”

You blinked up at him, confusion evidently spreading across your features. That question could’ve meant anything, especially now, you’d done a lot of questionable things in the past few weeks. Whatever it was had his eyes shot open, looking like he was seeing a reflection of himself in the mirror.

And maybe he was. Maybe you being here wasn’t good for him.

“Why aren’t you angry?” He grabbed your shoulders, voice hoarse despite the lack of words spoken. “Why did you save me?”

The pure silence of the world around you gave way to a sliver of a crack in his voice at the dying syllables.

“It’s my fault Graves is dead.”

“No.” Your hands grasped at his forearms, feeling them shake through his jacket. “It was my choice.”

Your choice. You said you’d chosen him, and you did.

You’d never anticipated a happy ending after getting closure, but this — this wasn’t what you’d been anticipating. You never expected him to say thank you for saving his life, but you couldn’t wrap your head around why he was looking at you like you killed him.

“I betrayed Graves, and I killed him.” You continued. “Wanna take a good guess why?

Denial flashed through the whites of his eyes, causing him to let go of you, rubbing his hands across his mask.

“Don’t-“

Too late. You roughly snatched his arms, tearing them away from his face before sticking one of your fingers to rest against his throat.

“I did it because I fell in i-“

Your sentence molded into a mere mumble as his right hand cupped over your mouth, his posture gradually folding with each waking second.

“Don’t say something you’ll regret.”

You could feel his hand jittering against your skin, giving away what his eyes tried desperately to hide. And you saw right through it, the anticipation stowed away deep beneath seas of lifeless umber, practically begging to break free. So you placed your hand over his, slowly prying your mouth free before folding your fingers against his.

“If that’s not what you want to hear, I won’t say it.”

When you break Ghost down, Simon Riley is an open book. Right now, his pages of vulnerability were on full display, allowing you to run a hand along his arm, stopping to squeeze at the shoulder. Upon hearing a quit hiss of pain push through his lips, you’d knew Simon Riley was fully yours.

“So, what do you want, Simon?”

A shuddered breath heeded your question, eyes screwing shut as you ran your fingers everywhere they’d go, stopping to rest at the hem of his sweatpants. When you shifted to move, his eyes shot open, grasping your arm to keep you there.

“You.” He breathed, drooping down to rest his forehead against yours. “Always wanted you, Cobra.”

Years of built up tension… insufferable hatred, snapped. Just like that.

Before you could continue to move, Simon broke out into a rather violent coughing fit, leading you to usher him to the edge of his bed. Your hand drifted down to his pants once more, lightly prodding at his clothed erection to alleviate the tension in his upper chest. Seeing as it worked, you pushed him further into the sheets before climbing up yourself, gently moving to straddle his thigh.

The groan he let out at the pressure almost roused a smirk from your end, yet you stuck to lightly dragging yourself against his leg. Your hand groped softly at his dick, watching as his gaze rose up to the ceiling.

“You like that, huh?”

A partially coherent “yes” made its way to your ears, the slight whimper in his tone causing you to bite back a moan. Your own arousal became evident in the partially damp feeling of your clit digging into the fabrics of his pants, the warmth of the skin under threatening to make you drool.

Short, quiet breaths filled the air as your hand worked on rubbing along the base of his clothed erection, earning a muffled noise of suppressed pleasure from him every time your fingers grazed over the right spot. You gnawed at your lips as one of his hands lifted up, loosely grasping your hair while you rocked back and forth on his thigh.

“You like this.”

He shrugged, spare hand moving to run along the hem of your pants, the press of his cool hands against your skin drawing a gasp from your lips.

“You do too.”

You watched as his eyes gradually darkened with each ministration, sweet moans melting into rough groans and curses. It was almost like a switch, how fast he could go from Simon Riley to Ghost. The pure sight of his now bored looking gaze instinctively made you dig your nails into his cock before the pleasure built up too much, eliciting a sharp breath from him in the process. At the same time, he twitched under your fingertips, hips subconsciously jutting into your hands, silently begging you to go faster.

And faster you went, scratching and squeezing coarse groans of pleasure from behind the mask. You got off at the same pace, letting out a low whine as your lower abdomen began to cloud with heat.

“That’s it, cum for me, lovie.” Ghost encouraged, lightly tugging on a handful of your hair. “I’ll be right after you.”

A gravely moan pushed its way out from the back of your throat as you came, completely soaking the fabric underneath you. True to his words, he was cumming just seconds later, a warm patch of seed turning the base of his crotch a deeper shade of grey.

You had no time to regain your breath, as Ghost was already pushing a hand into your pants, rudely shoving your underwear to the side before stroking his pointer finger down your folds. A deep inhale passed him at the feeling of your arousal coating his fingers, encouraging him to being an extra finger in to you with your clit.

“Soaking wet.”

Your eyes threatened to roll at the cocky gaze irises carried, clearly proud of the power he held over you. Yet, he clearly wasn’t over his own pleasure, as two of his fingers were quick to stuff themselves into your pussy, swirling around your walls as they began to pump into you.

“How does that feel?” He asked, dragging his fingers in and out of you, horribly, agonizingly slow. “Got something on your mind, don’t you?”

“Too slow.” You mumbled, fingers sinking into the cool fabric of his jacket at the complete stop of movement. “Don’t- tease me.”

A hum answered your commands, returning his fingers into your leaking pussy at a much faster pace. His fingers grew increasingly slick with each pump until he was practically nailing you, eyes glazing over with pleasure as your fingers delved under his hood, raking blazing lines over ice cold skin.

“Fuck-“ He groaned, head tilting to look up at you as his fingers relentlessly fucked your hole. “Cum again for me, dirty girl.”

Your legs clamped around his arms, crying out in pleasure as you gave into your second orgasm, coating his fingers in a generous amount of slick. Your teeth grit together as he swapped hands, pushing into you with his other set of fingers, raising the others up show you just how much you’d soaked him. Then, he beckoned your hand toward his mask, allowing you to expose his mouth as he slipped his fingers between his lips, tongue wrapping around the sickeningly sweet taste of you.

Those same fingers gently pushed into your mouth after he’d had his fill, making you lap up his saliva as his fingers swirled around the front of your throat. You bit down on your cheek as his fingers slipped out of your mouth and back into your pants, not bothering to hold your legs apart as he started to rub at your clit.

“Mmph, Ghost..” you sighed, hands running along the irritated expanse of his back. “You feel so good.”

“Taking my fingers so well.” He muttered, nipping at your neck through the mask. “Think you can take my cock?”

“You already know the answer to that- shit.”

Your eyes shut tight at the rush of another orgasm building up in you, waves of pleasure messily sloshing in their threats to spill again. Just as you’d thought you’d gotten used to it, Ghost roughly curled his fingers upward, snapping the dangerously thin thread sitting in your abdomen.

“FUCK!” You groaned, shuddering as Ghost fully pulled his fingers out of you, allowing yet another wave of your juices to pool against his pants.

The quiet drag of his sweatpants rustled in your ear, following your own pants being peeled off of your legs, and tossed behind on the floor. You watched as he dragged his boxers down, running a hand along his dick before taking hold of your shoulders and settling you against the pillows perched against the headboard.

And then he stopped. The flash of uncertainty in his eyes clear as the sunny skies of New England.

“Is this the last time I’ll see you?”

Your eyes parted at the sudden question, the burning desire of your answer present in his still, solid gaze. You glanced to the side, thinking about the mere handful of suitcases carrying your life’s worth sitting against your apartment door in Chicago, ready to go on your word. The decision was sure before you came here; leave the Task Force, rebuild your life brick by boring brick.

Yet, when you looked into the ever-longing window of vacance in Ghost — Simon Riley’s eyes, that thought went straight out the window.

However, there was no forgetting the terrors that seethed around him, igniting his very being in a fearful light. You knew it better than anyone else, and as long as you lived around him, you’d be plucking hopes off of a no leaf clover, trapped with the living, breathing nightmare that was Simon Riley.

“I don’t know.”

Maybe you liked the horror, the constant reminders of your failure to stay loyal settling in each crevice of your mind as you woke up covered in sweat, vocal chords arid from screaming.

And Ghost? Oh, he’d fallen deep into it with you now.

Some would’ve called it love.

Others called it getting by.

As much as he hated the uncertainty wavering in your answer, Ghost couldn’t bring himself to stop, stop touching you, stop looking at you. Each flutter of your sweat stained eyelashes made him want to scream, to cry and beg for you to stay with him until he was nothing but a forgotten pile of bones six feet under.

He buried those feelings deep inside your weeping pussy, bottoming out against your walls before dragging himself out, hissing at the way you sucked him in. Meanwhile, you were fighting back the tears that pricked at the corner of your eyes as he relentlessly stretched open your overly sensitive walls, crying out at each full piston of his cock.

This was the misery, a feeling worse than any torture you’d ever endured. The absence of light in your fall from grace, leaving you a shell of the strong soldier you once were, a barely living, coldly breathing shadow. That shadow had spread to every part of you, poisoning your mind with acidic waves of remorse as you continued to be reminded of how you failed to save the man you loved. It was horrible, killing him with your own hands to cover up your failure to change.

You were horrible. And so was he.

Your body screamed at the sloppy thrusts of his cock, in, and out. Tears had long since began dragging down your face, painting the world in a static haze as you threw your head back, crying out at the painfully pleasant drags of his dick, carelessly abusing your pussy.

Maybe horrible wasn’t so bad, anymore. As long as it came with the face of bone white splattered on aged black, and the cold, broken soul that stared at you from behind it.

What felt like your twentieth orgasm hit you with crippling force, starving the air from your lungs as you screamed in grim bliss. Ghost continued to hammer into your sweet spot, chasing his own high and coaxing you back into yours just as fast. What was once slightly ragged breathing had bred animalistic pants, following a bruising grip of his hands on your thighs to keep you steady.

“If you leave.” He spit out, groaning at the sudden clench of your walls around him. “Promise me something.”

You feverishly nodded, pitifully clawing at the abuses of your nails on his back as his pace picked up. A strangled moan spilled from his lips as he painted your insides white, soothing the scorching burn with thick ropes of his seed.

The pull out was gentle, leaving you devoid of him yet so full as he lifted a hand, brushing stray strands of hair away from your eyes.

“Promise you won’t forget me, sweetheart.”

The request pooled out soft, a mere rumble finding it’s way pushed out of strained vocal chords. You thought it was the most beautiful thing — his voice, his body, everything about him seemed like a gift from heaven itself in your infernal world. And even though most of his body was covered, your eyes still fell victim to the mesmerizing sight of the glistening smudges of aged paint, glazed over with a heavy coat of sweat.

He’d never looked so bewitching. The sight alone enough to hound each waking memory and follow you until your last breath. And as long as you breathed, you would hold it with you like a fleeting spark of bliss.

“Promise me.”

His voice rang out again, practically begging for you to say something, anything. You looked at his eyes, taking the barren, so lifeless yet lively plain of his gaze, reflecting the sight of a breezy, cloudless day.

“I promise.”

If crossing empty skies was all this pitiful life had left for you, you would do it over, and over again, and never look back.

#arqhms #arqhmsthirst #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw22 #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley fanfic

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oneshotnewbie · 8 months

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Could you write a one shot where there is a really bad storm hitting Seattle. Maya and Carina are stuck at the hospital and the fire station, and are trying but unsuccessful at reaching Reader. So they are both worried out of their minds. Then Maya has to go out on a call and find it was R who wrecked their car trying to get home before the storm hit. (Could be severe or non-severe injuries) R goes to the hospital with Maya in the aid car and Carina joins them in the ER.

Authors note: I heard the song "What the water gave me - Florence + The Machine" while writing this story. I would advise you to listen to the song as well while reading through this story to get the feel of a real Station 19 rescue mission like in the series. Of course it's not a must! ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

The sky over Seattle steadily darkened as pitch-black thunderclouds rolled in like a tidal wave. The wind began to howl as if playing its own somber tune, rushing restlessly through the skyscrapers of the city. Streets were quickly emptied as people rushed home for shelter. The trees bent under the force of the storm as if begging for mercy, but the storm was relentless. It thundered as if Zeus himself wanted to keep the crowds in their place while the rain fell in thick, large drops and threatened to drown Seattle. The sound of the wind, the falling of the rain and the thunder symphoned in a unique melody and conveyed a frightening atmosphere.

The telephones of the active fire brigade beeped in unison, a warning of the approaching storm that came in way too late. The tough captain of the fire department swallowed hard as she could not reach you, who worked just a few minutes away from her. But you did not answer, the connection was already disrupted, appearing to be off. "She wanted to be here fifteen minutes ago, Carina," both her and the brunette's worries grew with every minute through the phone as they imagined the worst possible scenarios without having any sign of life from you.

"Calm down, Bambina. There is probably total chaos on the streets. Fallen trees, flooding. Maybe she is just stuck in a traffic jam or an emergency came in."

The fire station was flooded with red alarm lights, while the walls shook from violent gusts of wind, preventing the young blonde from speaking further. Raindrops pelted against the roller shutter door, which opened more with every second, allowing the lightning strikes to break through their vision. -Fire engines 19 and 23. Ambulance 19 to Cedar Road Lane 6. Car struck by tree, person seriously injured and trapped.-

The firefighters rushed around, donning their suits and gear before grabbing their helmets. Like-minded, they rushed to the waiting vehicles, only Maya stopped briefly. „Please let me know if you hear anything from her. Stai attenta, bambina!" (Be careful, bambina!). She nodded, knowing that Carina could not see the gesture and hung up before hopping into the squad cars and starting the sirens. Pressing the accelerator, they raced through the whirlwind around them, trying to avoid the tree branches as much as possible.

Lightning flashed across the dangerous-looking sky, and thunder rolled at the same time like an angry demon. Maya clung to the steering wheel as she tried to keep her eyes on the wet, blurry road. They made their way through the flooded streets, branches flying through the air and trash cans tipping over and spilling across the sidewalk.

It was as if the world around her was collapsing in a chaotic dance of wind and water. "Listen guys, I know you want to help the person in the car, but first and foremost, think about your health and your life," the storm roared so loudly that it seemed like it wanted to tear the entire city apart and hardly anyone understood what the captain was saying over the radio. "This is one of the worst storms in years, a state of emergency has been declared and normally no one should be on the roads, so it is a mystery to me why anyone would be so dumb to be driving,"

Her team was clearly tense, the radios crackling in their ears, but they nodded to the captain as confirmation that they had understood the message. Maya did not want to lose any man or woman in her group to the storm. "We are approaching the scene of the accident. Be ready for anything, people. We can do this!" she said calmly and encouragingly while the fire engine´s sirens blared through the dark night.

When the team from Station 19 arrived at the scene of the accident, they were confronted with a dark and serious scene. The car is crammed in by a huge tree and is badly deformed, the hood of which is completely smashed and dented while some branches have pierced through the windshield and turned the interior of the vehicle into a field of rubble.

The fire team jumped out of the emergency vehicles and fought through the wind and rain to reach the car. But the captain remains rooted to the spot in front of the stern of the wreck, looking absentmindedly at the license plate, which was hanging askew. "Y/n.. IT IS Y/N!" she shouted unhindered amid the raging and deafening thunder and her team stopped their tasks in shock, Andy and Gibson focusing their gaze from the thick tree over to the woman in the driver's seat, who Warren was already trying to find vital signs on.

Maya lunged forward, her heart pounding with worry. Her helmet was almost blown away by the wind as she stepped closer, the flashlight shaking in her hand as she shone the light through the shattered window. Her heart seemed to skip a beat as she recognized the familiar features amid the devastation. She was confirmed that she did not have a number twist on the license plate, but that it really was you. Seriously injured and trapped in the car. “Y/n!” she cried, her voice filled with a terror she had never known before. Maya knew she had to stay calm now, that she had to be the professional captain, but her heart was screaming with fear and worry.

The other members of the fire department worked quickly and precisely. "Dean, Montgomery. Grab the hydraulic cutters! We need to get her out of here as quickly as possible. Her vital signs are at risk of plummeting!" shouted Warren. They used cutting tools to fight against the metal of the car on the passenger side and the resistance of the tree while Maya knelt next to the wreckage and held your hand, which was probably thrown out of the broken window after the impact and was now lying on the scratched paint of the outer door. "It looks bad in there! Be careful not to hurt her any further, approach carefully!"

Your eyes were dazed with pain and fear, but you were breathing, albeit weakly. Hearing her voice, you seemed to find some peace for a moment, your dull eyes glued to hers. Desperately wanting to say something, you opened your mouth from which blood began to ooze, but your crushed and injured lungs did not even let in air.

"Hold on, darling. Do not say anything, I am here. We will get you out of there, I promise." The blonde whispered, her voice firm to reassure you even as her own thoughts were caught in a chaos of worry and despair. The minutes stretched endlessly as her team struggled to bend the metal and free their captain's fiancée. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the metal gave way. Using their combined strength, Vic and Warren pulled you from the wreckage, carefully, yet as quickly as possible. As soon as they freed you, they carried you to the ambulance. Maya followed them, never taking her eyes off you. Your condition was serious, but you were still clinging to life. "Carina is coming. She is going to be at the hospital, she will be by your side the second you get there. But you have to fight now, okay? Fight for us."

The rain continued to beat down on you, the storm was still raging, but in the midst of this darkness and chaos there was a glimmer of hope- you were saved, and she would do anything now to help you fight through this storm. But it was hard to keep positive thoughts as the storm continued to sing its destructive song. She closed her eyes tightly as she rode in the ambulance and prayed, with your bloodstained hand in hers, that the next morning would bring a certain light to your health.

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superlarva · 9 months

Text

Modern AU kid Domino Squad! Cutup (back left), Hevy (back right), Fives (front left), Droidbait (front middle), Echo (front right). I felt the need to make them all look different since quintuplets would be a bit out of place in a modern AU, so Cutup, Hevy, and Droidbait are adopted.

Okay, I know it's been a few weeks, but I promise I'm still here and still working on Raising Dominoes. Life's just been super busy and I had to put in extra hours at the lab these past few weekends.

Anyways, here is Chapter 11 - Memories. And on a Saturday, not a Sunday! :)

Prologue: 00 Previous chapter: 10

Summary: Rex battles guilt and Echo recalls the events leading up to his hospitalization.

CW: Child abuse, death, death of children, guilt, missing limbs, hospitals, explosions. Heed the warnings on this one, friends. It's not a fun time for the boys.

Chapter 11 - Memories

Rex woke from an uncomfortable sleep as the first rays of sunlight began to illuminate the hospital room. He had not had the heart to separate the twins while they were sleeping, so he had hunkered down in the chair by the boy’s bedside for the night. Now his neck and back ached and he had pins and needles in his legs.

A quick look at the boys and he could see they were still sleeping. In the night they had drifted away from each other. Fives was now sprawled out on the bed, lying on his stomach like a starfish, leaving Echo a tiny sliver of space, and even that was invaded by Fives’s elbow.

Rex smiled to himself and gently moved Fives’s arm to his side so the boy would not accidentally take out one of his brother’s eyes. Luckily the kid was out cold and did not stir at his touch.

Now that he was up, Rex stretched and lazily strolled across the room to the window. Cody would have loved the view. The sun peaked between skyscrapers, casting the streets below in harsh shadows and warm light. From the way the whole city was bathed in orange it looked like a mild autumn morning despite the frigid temperatures Rex knew were on the other side of the glass.

He did not know how long he stood there, staring out the window and watching the cars march by in the lines of morning traffic like ants. He let his mind wander freely, enjoying the peaceful quiet of dawn. His brain had been working in overdrive constantly the past four days, always worried or planning. It felt nice to turn it off for a few seconds, doing a hard reboot and getting himself back on track.

Eventually the sound of the door opening caught Rex’s attention. Kix nodded to him from the doorway and strode over to the bed to change out Echo’s med bag.

“Hey,” Rex called softly, abandoning his post by the window and moving to stand beside the doctor. “Shouldn’t you be at home? It’s Saturday.”

Kix shrugged, focused on checking up on Echo, “I guess I picked up an extra shift.”

“What about Dogma and Tup?”

“Jesse’s got them,” Kix shrugged again, his tone nonchalant. He scrawled something quickly on his clipboard and then turned to Rex and nodded to the door, “Let’s talk outside.”

Rex followed Kix outside Echo’s room without complaint, and sat when Kix motioned to a bench in the hallway.

Kix sat next to him, sighing heavily, and running a hand through his intricate buzzcut, “Echo’s doing really well. Even better since you and Fives arrived.”

Rex nodded.

“If everything continues to go well, we should be able to discharge him this Wednesday. We have to ween him off the meds and make sure he won’t be in too much pain when you take him home. At this point, that’s really all he’s here for. The medication, sterile environment, and so that we can monitor the healing process.”

“So, he’s going to be okay?”

Kix smiled, leaning back, and resting his head against the wall, “That’s one resilient kid you got, Rex. It’ll take time, but he’ll be alright.”

“Good…” Rex trailed off his mind already whizzing over a million different questions. What if he was not? What if he healed physically, but could not mentally or emotionally? What if he hated him? What if he’d never be able to gain the kid’s trust? What if-

“Rex,” Kix laid a hand on Rex’s violently bouncing knee, and Rex instinctively jerked away from the touch. Kix frowned, retracting his arm, “More importantly, are you going to be alright?”

“‘More importantly?’” Rex scoffed. He turned his head away from Kix, choosing to focus on the checkered floor pattern instead. Echo was the one in the hospital, not him.

“Yeah, ‘more importantly,’” Kix hunched over, bracing his elbows on his knees before lowering his voice and continuing, “Listen to me, Rex. I don’t know a lot about what those boys have gone through, but if it’s anything half as bad as my boys—and I’m confident it’s worse—you’re going to need to be strong for them.”

Kix’s eyes flicked over to Rex to ensure his friend was still paying attention, “You’re going to have to show them they can trust you over and over and over again. And once you think they finally do, you’re going to do something that’s going to mess it all up. You’re going to have to start from square one.”

Rex was about to interject, but Kix held up a hand, “Listen, I’m telling you this because I want you to be prepared. I want this to end well. For that to happen, you need to show them how to be strong and learn to trust again. You won’t be able to do that if you let yourself get overwhelmed.”

“I-” Rex stuttered, voice caught in his throat, leg bouncing erratically again. He shook his head as if to shake unpleasant thoughts from his mind.

“Please don’t live in the past, Rex. Please. I don’t want that for you, and I don’t want that for your boys.”

Rex turned to Kix, eyes full of desperation, “How? How can I not live in the past? Look at what she did to them! Look at what I did to them! I should have been there. If I had been there-”

Rex broke off, hands trembling in his lap, a pained smile stretching across his face.

“You have to understand it’s not your fault. I know that’s hard, but what happened to them is not your fault. It’s not.”

Kix paused for a second, letting Rex meet his eyes before continuing, “What will happen to them will be. So, let’s make sure that it’s your fault that they smile. That they laugh and play and miss you when you’re gone. Make sure it’s your fault they’re happy.”

Rex shook his head, “And if I can’t?”

“You can. I know you can. And Cody and I will always be here to help, okay?”

Rex shrugged.

Kix nudged him in the arm, a slight smile spreading up the corners of his mouth, “Heck, even Jesse wants to help out. He’s been complaining that he’s the only one that hasn’t met them yet.”

Rex let out a clipped chuckle at the idea of his twins meeting Kix’s younger brother, “Yeah, okay.”

Echo woke to an aching pain coursing through his body and a familiar white light as he blinked himself awake. He must have overdone it during training yesterday. Must have hit his head too with the way it pounded.

He could feel the warmth of Fives’s body next to his left side just like every morning, but the space on the cot to his right was cold and empty. Where was Droidbait?

Echo reached out to feel for his younger brother but retracted his arm when all he found was a fistful of air.

Gone.

The world pitched around Echo. He blinked trying to block out the blinding light and sinking feeling in his gut and focus. He felt sluggish and fuzzy like he had been sedated, but he could not remember doing anything wrong. No, if he had done something bad, he would be in isolation. It would be cold and dark, and Fives would not be beside him.

Then Droidbait must have been in isolation. What could his youngest brother have done? Why could he not remember?

His head, right. His head. He must have hit his head.

Echo reached over to Fives, about to shake his twin awake when he stopped, pulling back his arm as if it had been burned.

Something was not right.

The light was slowly turning from the intense white to a warm orange as his eyes adjusted. It looked like sunlight. But that could not be right. There were no windows in their room, just a single exposed bulb that’s harsh light reflected on the white floors and walls.

No. This was wrong.

Echo tried to sit up, tried to look for Droidbait, Hevy and Cutup as his eyes gradually focused on the room around him. Tried to make sense of the bed he was on and the machines surrounding him.

He could not. Could not sit up. Could not see his brothers.

Then he could not stop himself from remembering.

Remembering Hevy’s plan.

They were going to escape. Going to climb over the wall during their morning drills. He had thought it was a bad idea. Mom told them not to go near the citadel walls. She had warned them bad things would happen. Cutup said she was probably lying. He had said she would not be watching. Echo did not agree.

She was always watching.

Droidbait was scared. He had said over and over that he did not want to go. That he was afraid. That they would not make it over the wall. That she would find them even if they did.

As soon as the drill started Hevy had grabbed him. Dragged their youngest brother after him. Cutup had followed just behind, leaving Echo to wake up Fives.

Fives never woke to the alarm. Echo thought the flashing red lights and the incessant ringing would have been enough to wake a dead man, but Fives never so much as stirred. Echo had to shake him.

Fives had not been sure about Hevy’s plan either. He had said that even if they cleared the wall and made it down to the other side, what would they do next? Where would they go? But when the time came, he was on board. If Hevy and Cutup and Droidbait were doing it, so was he.

If Fives was doing it, so was Echo.

They had run down the hall and out through the normally bolted shut doors. The doors outside only opened during morning drill. Echo knew. This had not been the first time they had tried to escape.

By the time he and Fives had made it out into the yard, his adopted brothers were already scaling the wall. Cutup was nearly at the top and Hevy was helping Droidbait a few feet below.

No one had stopped them.

Fives ran to the wall. Echo followed.

They were doing this now.

No turning back.

About halfway up Echo heard the first explosion. He heard Droidbait screaming Cutup’s name. His voice had been laden with fear and grief. He heard Hevy yelling at Droidbait, begging him not to move. He heard Fives whimper quietly next to him.

When Echo pulled himself up onto the top of the wall he saw Hevy crouched next to Droidbait’s foot. He saw his youngest brother’s eyes wide with terror, staring at the place where the explosion had been. He saw the pile of rubble. He saw Cutup’s eyes staring blankly up at the sky from under the settling dust.

Hevy had turned to him and Fives and moved aside so they could see the dark olive cylinder resting under Droidbait’s foot. Droidbait stared at the rubble, repeating Cutup’s name over and over, his voice hollow and quiet.

Hevy had hesitated looking from their baby brother’s foot to his lost expression before turning back to the twins.

“You take him and you go,” Hevy had ordered.

Echo watched as he yanked the mine out from under Droidbait’s foot and curled his body over it in one fluid motion. He had been trying to stop the explosion from harming anyone but himself.

It had not worked.

Hevy was blown back towards the twins, a mess of blood and flesh. Droidbait was pushed backwards from the force and teetered on the edge of the wall.

Fives screamed and rushed forwards, reaching out a hand.

He had not been fast enough.

Droidbait fell.

Echo remembered the sound it made when his little brother hit the ground.

He doubted he would ever forget.

Echo did not remember much after that. He must have stepped on one of the mines as well, considering the state of his body. He looked over at his brother, making sure his brother really was as unharmed as he had seemed the day before.

Fives seemed fine, and Echo closed his eyes again to block out the too bright light before they flew open in surprise as the door to his room creaked open.

That man was standing there, the one who had brought Fives. The one named Rex. He looked like the other one—Cody—but with shorter blond hair instead of the longer dark curls that matched him and his brother.

Cody had come a lot to visit. Echo barely remembered much from the past few days, but it seemed every time he woke, he had been there, sitting at his bedside, quietly reading a book of some sort. He had thought Cody was his dad at first. It made sense, they looked just like each other, and why else would anyone take an interest in him.

When Echo had asked, Cody had smiled and said that his dad was taking care of Fives, that he was his uncle, that his dad’s name was Rex.

Rex.

His dad.

The guy had seemed nice enough yesterday, but Echo knew better than to believe his charade. Besides, Echo did not want a dad. He wanted his brothers back.

Echo must have let his face show too much disgust when Rex came into his view, as the man quickly rushed to his side, “Are you okay?”

Echo narrowed his eyes. Rex sounded like Fives any time Echo or one of their other brothers got hurt during drills. His voice was soft and gentle, even caring, and Echo was taken aback. It sounded genuine.

“Fine,” Echo mumbled, voice scratchy.

The man hovered awkwardly by the side of the bed for another moment before nodding and sitting slowly in the chair, “Your brother’s still sleeping, huh?”

Echo nodded, waiting for the command to wake his twin and rob him of a few more precious minutes of sleep.

It did not come.

Instead, Rex passed a small book to Echo, and pressed a finger to his lips, “We’ll have to be quiet, then.”

Echo watched as Rex took out a book of his own and flipped to a page in the middle, his head bowed as he read silently. The boy looked down at the book clutched in his hand. It appeared to be some sort of fiction book based on the colorful cover.

Echo snuck a glance at the blond man. He was still engrossed in his novel. The boy cautiously opened to the first page, chancing another look at Rex. Just because he was handed the book did not mean he was allowed to read it. The blond man looked up at the sound of the page crinkling, met his gaze for half a second, flashed a quick smile, and then went back to reading.

Echo followed suit.

Maybe his dad was not so bad.

Just maybe.

@marierg @stressed-cherry @ffdemon @renton6echo @bambambunny @tearfulsolace @rndmpeep @brokenphoenix99 @nerdy-valkyrie @xylionet @tazmbc1 @eyayah123 @the-bad-batch-baroness @sarcastic-nebula @ihaventpickedausername @sexysmeagolshitposting @emma-1409 @marcadamia

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kybercrystals94 · 2 months

Text

Teal Paint

Read here on Ao3!

Angstpril 2024 | Day 18 | Prompt 18: Left Behind

Rated: G | Word Count: 1526 | Summary: Memories left behind... | Character Focus: Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Omega, Echo

*some slight spoilers at the very end for Season 3*

Tech finds a reasonably tame city to spend their brief period of downtime between missions. It took several months, but they’ve finally scraped enough credits together, and today is the day. The streets are crowded with evening traffic, the Batch walking close together to avoid being separated.

“Did you know,” Tech says, informatively, “that facial tattoos are among the most painful, depending on the location on the face?”

“Thanks, Tech,” Hunter grumbles, “that’s really helpful.”

“You’re not going to talk us out of it,” Crosshair adds resolutely.

Wrecker nods. “Yeah, we’re gonna do it no matter what you say, Tech!”

Tech huffs. “On the contrary, I’m quite eager to observe the process. I just believe that being well informed is beneficial when making a life altering decision.”

“Maker, Tech, getting a tattoo isn’t life altering,” Crosshair says.

“It’s awesome!” Wrecker declares. “You should get one too, Tech.”

“I prefer modifications that can be modified,” Tech retorts.

Crosshair leans close to Wrecker, puts his hand up to shield his mouth from Tech, and loudly whispers, “He’s too scared.”

“That is not true.”

“Aww, Techie’s scared,” Wrecker crows, throwing an arm around Tech. “I can hold your hand, be brave for the both of us.”

Tech tries to extract himself from Wrecker’s grip. “I am not scared! I have stated my reasoning clearly and concisely. Fear has nothing to do with it.”

Hunter rubs his hand across the left side of his face, a fist of apprehension balling up in the pit of his stomach. He isn’t having second thoughts, he’s almost positive that he’ll be happy with the results. He and Crosshair spent hours with a pad of flimsi sketching and scheming. Crosshair wanted something subtle, meaningful, a reflection of himself. Hunter, to his brothers’ surprise, wanted something bold. A statement. Memorable. Of the Batch, he most resembles, in appearance and speech, a reg. But he is no more a reg than any other member of his squad. He might not be able to easily change his facial structure or vocal pattern; however, inking half his face with the dark contour of a skull seems like a good start.

“What do you think?” Crosshair asked, holding up the sketch he’d made of Hunter.

Hunter grinned, taking the pad and admiring the simple lined likeness to himself, the skull motif shadowed deeply with graphite. He loved it. It was perfect. Exactly as he’d imagined it. “Looks good,” he told his brother.

Wrecker, at the last minute, decided that he also wants a tattoo, although his ideas are scattered and untethered to any sort of theme. Even as they approach the tattoo parlor, he is still undecided, claiming that it is going to be a surprise.

“A tattoo is permanent,” Tech tells Wrecker again, having resigned himself to being tucked under Wrecker’s arm for the remainder of their trek. “You should at least have some sort of idea.”

“I do,” Wrecker says, “My idea is that it will be the coolest tattoo in the entire galaxy.”

“That is not an idea,” Tech sighs.

At Tech’s direction, they turn off on a side street, the crowds petering off the further they walk. It doesn’t exactly feel like a bad part of town; however, it is less kept, the buildings showing their age and wear. Hunter is beginning to wonder if Tech got them lost when they turn another corner and a neon sign blinks the word “TATTOOS” at them, the flashing light practically searing into Hunter’s retinas.

“They should get a brighter sign,” Crosshair snarks, “we almost missed it.”

They step inside, and find the business deserted except for a human who stands up from a chair behind the counter. He is covered in colorful ink, his natural pigment completely lost under the tapestry of mismatched designs across every inch of his exposed skin.

“Now that must’ve hurt,” Wrecker mutters to Tech, but he might as well have screamed it from the rooftops.

Tech rolls his eyes.

The man smiles, flashing white teeth. “Only hurts ‘til the pain goes away.”

“Naturally,” Tech agrees sardonically.

“I’m gonna guess you lot are here for some ink,” the man says.

“They are, I am not,” Tech replies quickly. “I am here to observe.”

“Not a fan of needles, huh?” the man asks.

Tech opens his mouth to deny the accusation, but Wrecker gasps out, “Wait, needles?”

Crosshair groans. “We went over this, Wrecker.”

“Yeah, well” Wrecker says, “it sounds different the way he says it.”

“How?”

Wrecker heaves his broad shoulders in a shrug. “I’ll just wait on my tattoo. Until I think of something good, ya know?”

Crosshair steps around Wrecker and jerks his head in Hunter’s direction. “He and I are getting tattoos. These are what we want.” He pulls two pieces of flimsi from his pocket with their chosen designs, pushing them across the counter.

The man takes them, looking over the details. “Straightforward and to the point. I like that. C’mon around and we’ll get started.”

Hunter takes a deep breath.

He’s not turning back now.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Hunter and Crosshair decide to add to their armor to coordinate with their new tattoos. The next time they’re on Kamino, they find their leftover paint and set to work, Tech and Wrecker joining them. Inspired by Hunter’s new half skull tattoo, they decide to incorporate the symbol into all of their armor in some way.

“So help me, Wrecker, if you tip over another can of paint…” Crosshair mutters, snatching up the at-risk bucket from Wrecker’s proximity.

Wrecker is sprawled out on their barrack’s floor, taking up far more than his fair share of space. His paint brush flicks up, sending a spray of heavy duty white across the room.

“You’re cleaning that up,” Tech says from his place at the table.

“No one will notice,” Wrecker assures them. “Maybe they’ll look like clean spots!”

Hunter sighs. “That’s not a good thing, Wreck.”

Wrecker ignores the comment, instead dropping his paintbrush onto the tray Tech ordered him to use and holding up his helmet. “What do you think? It’s a skull.”

“Not a human skull,” Tech points out.

Wrecker shakes his head. “Human skulls are boring.”

“There’s supposed to be red on your helmet somewhere,” Crosshair gripes.

Wrecker reaches over and plucks Crosshair’s fine tipped paint brush out of his hand, the bristles still dripping red paint. Crosshair sputters a curse as Wrecker happily begins painting with the stolen utensil.

“Hunter!” Crosshair cries, “Tell Wrecker to give it back.”

Hunter doesn’t even look up from his work. “Let’s share our toys like big kids,” he coos, earning a chuckle from Tech.

“I’m gonna give it back in a second,” Wrecker says. “Almost done.”

Crosshair growls something rude in Huttese.

“There!” Wrecker says, tossing the brush back at Crosshair, the sniper catching it from the wrong end, paint staining the palm of his glove. Wrecker turns his helmet again to the room. “See? It’s perfect.”

The number 99 is brandished across the forehead of his helmet in dripping red.

“Subtle as usual, Wrecker,” Tech says.

Wrecker grins. “Thanks!”

Hunter sits back and admires his own helmet’s new design, carefully imitating his inked face. It’s exactly how he imagined it.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“I like this color,” Omega says, pointing at a swatch of teal paint. “Oh, and this orange is nice.”

Tech glances at Hunter, clearly questioning the decision to let Omega choose their new armor colors. Hunter shrugs. At least it will look…different. Which is exactly what they want.

“What about this one?” Wrecker asks, pointing at the yellow swatch.

“Yes! I like that one too!” Omega cries.

They purchase the three cans of paint and some brushes before heading back to the Marauder. Omega is beside herself with excitement. “Do you think the paint will work on my helmet?” she asks.

“Sure, kid, ‘course it will,” Wrecker says cheerfully.

“I’m gonna use orange on mine, then,” Omega says.

That evening, spread out under the Marauder’s wing, the Batch set about repainting their armor. Wrecker can’t bear the thought of covering up the skull on his helmet, so he settles for removing the bright 99 from it instead, sanding it down and repainting the area white. With Omega’s help, he uses orange and yellow to accent the rest of his armor pieces.

Tech and Echo decide to monopolize the orange paint, leaving very little to Hunter. With a sigh, he picks up the teal paint, and pries it open. Omega beams at him. “I think that will be a very nice color on you,” she tells him sincerely, and suddenly, the color doesn’t seem so bad.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“All the armor’s been stripped. But we’re still not gonna blend in,” Echo says, tossing Hunter his helmet.

The colors of his past lives have been removed with finality. He knows it is necessary; however, he can’t help but feel the pang of loss as he stares at the familiar piece of himself he’s had for so long, devoid of the visible memories lingering like ghosts behind him.

Maybe they’ll paint their armor again, when all of this is over.

If they all make it back.

END

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blue-aconite · 2 years

Text

you said you’d grow old with me || b.b

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw had been in her life since she was 16 years old. Her rock, anchor in a bad storm, shoulder to cry on. Her best friend. It felt like they had known each other forever, two pieces of a puzzle. She could talk to him about everything.

Warnings: Terminal illness, angst, no happy ending

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x f!reader

Authors Note: This is all thanks to @imjess-themess. Blame her. Thank you @imjess-themess @writercole for reading it over for me. I wrote this in less than three hours and I spent most of them crying.

Song; you said you’d grow old with me

She gets the call three weeks after her appointment. They’re quiet on the phone, asking her if this is a bad time, if she could come into the office to discuss the test results. A strange feeling settles in her gut but she cancels the coffee date she has with Bradley, telling him an emergency at work has come up. He texts her a sad emoji at first, and it brings a smile to her face.

Bradley had this stupid habit of answering most texts he got in emoji, forgoing the English language like a normal person. The rest of the squad found it annoying but she couldn’t help but to like it. It was just one of the many things she loved about him.

She’s in the car when her phone pings with another message. It’s Bradley again, asking if she wants to grab dinner instead. She doesn’t open the message, focusing on the traffic lights. The route to the hospital takes 30 minutes of her time, there’s little to no traffic at this time of the day.

The strange feeling from before has now turned to nausea, swirling in the pits of her stomach. She leans against the car, taking a deep breath. Adjusting her bag, she heads through the doors and signs in at the reception. Taking a seat in the waiting area, she unlocks the phone and swipes to look at her messages. Bradley has sent another text, asking if she rather wants takeout. Shooting a white lie, she tells him the situation at work is going to take a while and asks if they can postpone the whole thing altogether. His answer is blue heart and a rooster emoji. Stupid man.

Bradley Bradshaw had been in her life since she was 16 years old. Her rock, anchor in a bad storm, shoulder to cry on. Her best friend. It felt like they had known each other forever, two pieces of a puzzle. She could talk to him about everything.

She had supported him through it all, his dream to follow in his fathers footsteps, held his hand as he said goodbye to Carole, listened when he raged on and on about Maverick and their problems. Hugged him before every deployment, telling him to stay safe, to come back home. Back to her.

When he got called back to Top Gun, she was right by his side, pulling strings to relocate from her job, to be able to follow him back to San Diego. She had soothed him when he returned each evening, upset and angry and told him he was a great pilot and he wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t. She had cried silently into his chest before they had left, praying to whatever higher power there was out there that Pete would pick someone else to be his wingman.

But he had been picked and she had been a wreck for the days he’d been gone. Radio silence for three days. She had paced, cried and gone through most emotions she was capable of. Bradley was gone, going into a mission with low survival chances and she had let him go without telling him that she loved him.

She never really knew when it had happened. Somewhere along being Bradley’s best friend, she had fallen in love with him. But telling him was out of the question. He had never shown any interest in her like that and she didn’t want her feelings to be the source of her losing her best friend. So she kept quiet.

Her name echoes through the waiting room and she's met with a kind smile, a nurse showing her the way to an office. When she steps inside she immediately notices the number of people in the room. Dr. Miller is there, a tight smile on his face, along with a man and woman she doesn’t recognise. The woman stands and extends her hand, introducing herself as Dr. Anne Thompson, resident psychologist. The hair on her neck stands, and she forces down the nausea once again. The man takes her hand in both of his, telling her he’s Father Simmons.

She knows what this means. If there was good news, they would have told her over the phone that everything was fine. But here she was. Called into the office, sitting across three people wearing the same sad, tight smile. Dr. Miller starts off, showing her the journal, explaining the test results. Thompson takes over when the medical part is done, asking if there is someone they should call, would she want to book an appointment and so on. It’s mostly white noise.

6 months.

Hands shaking, she asks if coming sooner would have made a difference and they shake their heads. There is nothing they can do. She makes an appointment with Thompson. She thanks them quietly and leaves the office. She doesn’t let the tears fall until she’s in the car.

Bradley. Her first thought is to call Bradley. To hear his voice, being wrapped in his arms, breathing him in. But she can’t. How can she tell him this? She hasn't even told him that she has been sick. Bradley had been busy a lot lately, with new trainees and new training schedules, making him and the rest of the Dagger Squad work longer hours.

When her symptoms had first started, she had hidden them away from him, and from herself. It wasn’t until she was retching over the toilet seat that she had called the hospital. And Bradley had been none the wiser.

She couldn’t tell him. How could she look him in the eye and tell him she was another person he was about to lose. She couldn’t hurt him like that. Had it been anyone else, it would have been different. But this was Bradley. Her best friend. The love of her life. No. He didn’t need to know.

6 months. She had six months to make sure he wouldn’t be alone when she was gone. It was the least she could do. She could make sure that he would be happy.

Bradley’s POV

5 months later

“Is Nat single?” The question catches him off guard. She’s seated next to him, sipping on lemon soda. He’s nursing a beer, left arm resting behind her on the back of the seat. Spluttering, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, turning to her.

“What? Why, uh, I don’t know. I think so, why?” She shrugs, eyes trailing after Natasha as she challenges Jake to another round of pool. Bob is seated at the side with Mickey, the two WSO’s heads close together, whispering to each other.

“You two would make a cute couple.” That catches him even more off guard.

“Me and Nat? Why would you even think about that? We’re friends. There’s nothing there.” He’s scrambling for words, his brain trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Why would you try and set him up with Nat of all people?

“It was just a thought. Don’t freak out.” She is smiling now, nuding him with her shoulder. Coughing, he slides closer to her, wrapping his arm around her.

“What is going on? Last week you tried to set me up with that barista.” And that’s not the only time. In the last months, you had made an effort to point out people you apparently thought would be dating material. He never took the bait, claiming he was happy as it was now, not being tied down and being able to focus on being an instructor at Top Gun.

“Is there a problem with me wanting to see my best friend find love?” There it is. Best friend. A title he has since the two of you were teenagers. Your best friend. How could he tell you that he didn’t want to date anyone but you? How could he say that he has been in love with you since he was eighteen years old, watching you dance under the fairy lights at prom. The words were always at the tip of his tongue, so close to slipping out. But there was always something holding him back. He didn’t want to ruin what you two already had. He could settle for being your best friend, as long as that meant he could keep you in his life.

She leans against him, eyes closed. He turns his head to press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in her scent. Strawberries and vanilla. It smells like coming home. Maybe he should take a leap and tell her. Tell her about it all. How he’d give her the moon and the stars if she wanted him too. How he would turn in his wings if it meant that she would be his. How nothing really mattered if she wasn’t there by the end of the day when he came home. She was the one thing he always wanted to come home to.

“How about we go? You seem tired.” He speaks softly, lips still pressed against her hair. She nods slightly and he untangles his arm from around her, standing up. She gets up only to stumble, caching herself on the edge of the table. Moving around, he’s quick to grab her, concern written all over his face.

“Are you okay?” He searches her eyes and notices the bags under them. They’re darker than usual.

“I’m fine. I just got up too quickly.” She smiles, but it’s strained and it looks more like it’s something to reassure him, not genuine enough. He doesn’t want to argue, so he simply nods and guides her toward the exit. Keeping a hand on her, he waves at his squad, telling them he’ll see them tomorrow.

The ride home is quiet. Bradley keeps his eyes on the road, occasionally drifting over her, resting against the window, eyes closed. Something isn’t right. He can’t say what it is but it’s there. Thinking back, she’s been off for a while now. He had chalked it down to being stressed about work. He’d been pretty busy himself and hadn’t thought to ask. Now he wishes he had. She is hiding something from him.

By the time he reaches their shared place, she is fast asleep. Not wanting to wake her up, he gently lifts her from the seat, carrying her inside. She barely stirs, only shifts to press her face against his neck. He’s glad that she isn’t awake to feel the way his heart races.

Taking the stairs two steps at the time, he kicks the door open to her bedroom and places her on the bed. A soft whine leaves her as he lets her go and his breath gets caught in his throat. He spots a blanket thrown over the chair in the corner and makes sure she’s properly tucked in before removing her shoes. Leaning down, he presses a kiss to her forehead before leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

He lets his mind wander as he gets ready for bed. He knows something is wrong and it hurts that she hasn’t told him. They tell each other everything. When had it changed?

Thinking back, he had noticed she had been awfully tired lately. She had often turned down going out with the rest of them, opting to stay home. She had cancelled more of their plans.

Tomorrow. Then he would sit her down, ask her what was wrong. And then he’d tell her. He would lay his heart out for her to handle. Give her every piece of him. All or nothing. Full throttle.

She’s on his mind as he drifts off to sleep, as always. She’s his first thought in the morning, his last before he falls asleep.

A loud noise wakes him from his slumber. It’s coming from down the hall. Another crash echoes through the house and he’s quick on his feet, rushing towards her bathroom.

Bradley has seen a lot. He has seen his mother collapsing to her knees, sobs wracking her body as Maverick told her Nick was gone. He had seen his dad’s coffin lowered into the ground, flag folded and Maverick punching his golden wings into the shiny casket.

He has seen the haunted look in Jake’s eyes when he finally broke down after the mission. How the man had cried and cried about the lives he had taken, how it haunted him everyday.

Nothing prepares him for the sight of her on the bathroom floor. Products clattered across the tile, hair spilling over her face. He calls her name once, twice. She doesn’t respond. He kneels on shaky legs, reaching for her pulse point with two fingers. His heart is beating so hard, trying to claw its way out of his rib cage. Everything is spinning and he tries to focus on finding a pulse.

After what feels like forever he finds it, but it’s weak. Too weak. Standing up, he rushes back into his bedroom to fumble for his phone.

He doesn’t know how long it takes for the ambulance to arrive. All he knows is how limp she is in his arms, how weak she looks.

He’s downstairs with her in his arms as the ambulance crew arrive, standing back as they load her into the van. He doesn’t go with them. He watches them leave before leaning over and emptying his stomach on the driveway. He’s on his knees, a ringing in his ears. He heaves until there is nothing left.

He gotta call someone. He can’t drive like this. He doesn’t know what time it is, but it doesn’t matter. The dials Pete’s number, managing to tell him between sobs what’s happened. Pete tells him to stay put and that he’s on his way. He’ll call the rest of the squad.

Bradley numbly manages to get back inside. He’s in his boxers, feet aching from the cold. He throws on the first article of clothing he can find before heading back downstairs. Pete is in the driveway, panic dancing in his eyes as he takes in Bradley’s state.

The ride to the hospital goes by in a blur. Pete helps him from the car, keeping a tight grip on arm as they navigate the hallways. It’s oddly comforting. They end up in a waiting area, settling down in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. Someone says a doctor will speak with them soon.

Pete tries to talk to him but Bradley can’t say anything. How could this happen? How had he missed whatever this was? His mind is racing and the room spins. He can hear someone telling him the breath, a hand on his neck, squeezing gently. He tries to draw in a breath but his lungs burn.

He looks up and Penny is there, eyes red and hair frazzled. Pete is gripping his neck, telling him to match his breathing. He does his best.

Eventually he calms down. The doctor rounds the corner and asks if they’re family. Pete nods and the doctor gestures down the hall. Bradley follows numbly along. They settle in an office. Panic claws at his chest as he listens to the man in the white coat.

Terminal. Unfortunately nothing that could be done. She’s known for a while.

The last part breaks him. She’s known for a while. She’s been sick for months and hasn’t bothered to tell him. Everything makes sense now. He wish that it didn’t. He wish he’s gonna wake up any minute now and it’s all a terrible dream. But he doesn’t.

Instead he’s led to a room. He knows she’s inside. He hovers, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants. What is he even going to say? He’s angry, he’s heartbroken and he’s running out of time.

She’s awake when he steps into the room. He takes a look at her, a real look. She looks sick. Tired. She doesn’t acknowledge him as he moves closer to the bed, his anger melting away when he sees the tears on her face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice breaks as he sits down. He reaches for her hand.

“I didn’t know how. How could I tell you? I didn’t want to cause you pain.”

“Pain? What do you think I’m feeling right now? Do you think I’m happy? Huh?” He isn’t angry, he’s just tired.

“Bradley, I’m sorry. I just.. I don't know what I thought.” She’s crying and he can feel the tears on his face. Reaching over, he grabs her hand, holding on tightly.

“Is this why you’ve been trying to set me up?” The question burns on his tongue.

“Partly. I didn’t want you to be lonely when I was gone. I thought that if I found someone for you, it would be easier. You’ve already lost so much.” His breaks all over again, for her, for him.

“I don’t want someone. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.” He’s speaking before he realises what he’s saying. It falls from his lips before he can’t process it. But there’s no turning back now.

“I love you. I’ve been in love with you since we were eighteen years old. Since I saw you at prom, dancing under the lights. When you held my hand and said that we’d always be together and that we would grow old together. There hasn’t been a moment since then that I haven’t loved you.” He tries but his voice breaks at the end. But he keeps eye contact, refusing to let her hide away. He needed her to understand that he was serious.

“Brad.. I don’t know what to say. Why haven’t you said anything?”

“You’ve never shown that you might feel the same. You’re my best friend and I didn’t want to lose that.” His gut is clenching, heart beating against his rib cage.

“I wish you would have told me. Because then I could have said it back.” His head whips up so fast he’s about to get a whiplash, eyes wide.

“Are you saying what I think you are?”

“I love you Bradley. I don’t know when it happened but I do.” He should be smiling. So should she. It should be a happy moment, after years of waiting. But it’s not. It’s sad, broken and the guilt is threatening to swallow him whole.

“We could have had months. Years even. I could have had you.” He’s speaking mostly to himself at this point, tears streaming down his face. Had he been braver, had he told her sooner, they could have been together. They could have had time. Now they’ve got anything but time.

She’s crying as well, apologies falling from her lips, like a silent prayer. Pressing his forehead against hers, Bradley squeezes her hand.

“Don’t apologise. We have right now. We’ll start there.” He presses his lips against her before she can say anything else.

Kissing her has been a dream of his for a long time. He had imagined it in a hundred different ways. But never the way it was happening right now.

They had this moment, they had right now. But it wasn’t enough and it would never be enough. Time was running out.

He breathes her in, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. He doesn’t let go of her hand as he settles back in the chair.

“Rest. I’m right here. And I’ll be here when you wake up. We’ll be okay.” It’s a lie and he knows it as well as she knows it. But for now it brings a comfort he so desperately needs.

He holds her hand as he watches her fall asleep. He plays with her fingers gently as the rain smatters against the window. The events of the night are catching up with him and Bradley leans back to get more comfortable. Never letting go of her hand. Watching the slow rise of her chest as she breathes shallowly. He thinks of her, as usual, when sleep claims him.

When Bradley wakes, the room is bathed in a soft yellow. It’s soothing, relaxing.

But her hand is cold in his and the only sound in the room is his own breathing.

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#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #fe writes

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electronicwitchcollection · 7 months

Text

~*Accidental Mate: chapter 6*~

You had left your home earlier than needed this morning, wanting to enjoy the warm summer sun on your way to work. Your report was secure in an envelope in your hand, swaying lightly at your side as you walked. The breeze was refreshing, teasing through your hair you had to keep down in order to hide the teethmarks bruising your neck. You felt surprisingly refreshed considering the nights sleep you had. It was plagued with vivid dreams, sensual lovemaking that had lingered with you this morning when you had woken. You felt light, carefree as you headed to your Captains office, looking forward to getting back into your routine. Today was going to be a good day, you could feel it.

A flash of orange caught your attention in the distance, standing out drastically in the sea of black uniforms and dark hair. You'd notice that floppy mess of bright orange hair anywhere. Ichigo was weaving in between the forming crowd of people on their way to work, trade mark frown on his young face. "Ichigo" you greeted him with a friendly wave as he neared you, stopping him short

His face relaxed upon seeing you, offering a half smile "YN, hey. How you doing?" He had stopped to chat with you, nodding to the side of the path where you wouldn't be in the way of the mornings traffic "heard you were the one Kyoraku lumbered Grimmjow with "

You chuckle at the pained look on his face, at least someone knew the right amount of sympathy you deserved, unlike Renji. "Better now that I'm home" you grin at him before sighing, you had a feeling many people would have questions over the trip you would rather forget "It wasn't that bad, you seeing Renji today?" Anything to change the subject

"yeah, I'll catch up with him and Byakuya later, promised Rukia I'd help train her new squad members" Ichigo explained while rubbing at his nose, seemed awfully itchy all of a sudden. You held back a laugh at the familiar way Ichigo addressed your Captain, knowing full well it aggravated him to be addressed so informally . He leaned in closer to you, giving you a strange look.

Leaning back slightly you raised a confused eyebrow "what are you doing?" He wasn't usually one to invade personal space like this, at least you've never witnessed it. You weren't actually opposed to physical contact and closeness, it was, however, unexpected from the young man.

"sorry, it's just.." he leaned in a little closer despite your obvious discomfort, sniffing at you curiously as his brows furrowed in confusion"you smell strange"

"I smell? Like what?" You ask flabbergasted, raising your arm to sniff at your uniform. It smelt fine to you, you had showered this morning and the subtle smell of vanilla still lingered on your skin "is it bad?"

"no" he shook his head, leaning in even closer trying to associate the smell with the memory refusing to come to the forefront of his mind "it kinda smells like.." the rest of Ichigo's sentence was abruptly cut off by a fist swinging in from nowhere, clocking Ichigo in the chin and sending him tumbling to the ground. You gasped, startled by the unexpected turn of events.

Grimmjow was suddenly standing in front of you, chest heaving with rapid breaths as he glared down at Ichigo rubbing at his darkening chin "what the fuck is wrong with you!" Ichigo snapped at the Espada from the floor, returning an icy glare. Grimmjow usually at least gave him the courtesy of a threat before he attempted to fight him.

Grimmjow had seen red when he saw Ichigo leaning in towards you. Invading your space, getting to close to what was his. He would be damned if he would just roll over and let that bastard try to steal away what was his. He thinks he could be a better mate? Give you what you needed. That weak ass bitch couldn't provide for you the way Grimmjow could, couldn't protect you as well, could please you as well. His alpha pride was screaming at him to annihilate the threat, take on the challenge Ichigo unknowingly laid down

His hands curled into fists, pupils thinning into slits as he regarded the other male angrily getting to his feet. Big mistake. "What the hell is your problem?!" Ichigo seethed through clenched teeth, shoving Grimmjow roughly in the chest, before ducking another lightening fast fist aiming for his nose. Grimmjow snarled back, animalistic and dangerous, sending all your hairs on edge

You had seen enough, finally getting over the shock you rushed in between them, laying a hand on each of their chests to try and diffuse the situation "stop!" You told them both sternly, eyeing first Ichigo then Grimmjow. Both their chests were heaving with unexplained anger. Well, Ichigo's anger was explainable, considering he had just been sucker punched for no apparent reason. "What's going on?"

"Ask him! Crazy bastard" Ichigo exclaimed angrily, though at least taking a step back. Grimmjow growled in response, trying to advance closer. He didn't even look at you as you pathetically tried to keep him in place, staring daggers over your head at his intended target. A small crowd had gathered around, curiously watching the spectacle unfold in the middle of the street

"You think your better than me?!" Grimmjow snapped to the orange haired man, pushing you away effortlessly. Not thinking clearly, he hadn't thought to adjust his strength as he pushed you. He knocked you away harder than he intended, not even glancing your way as you tripped over your own feet at the sudden force and landing on your ass with a huff. That was the second time that asshole shoved you over, and you were just about finished with it . "Think you can take what's mine?!"

"Don't shove her!" Ichigo ignored Grimmjow's shouting, reaching down to offer you a hand up with muttered concern . You were about to gratefully accept the hand when Grimmjow lunged at him, tackling them both to the ground in a frenzy of trading blows and spited insults. You jumped to your feet yourself, at a loss of what to do. You needed to stop the fight before it got out of hand and weapons were involved, but you weren't stupid enough to risk getting close when they were wresting around on the floor like that

"stay away from her" you heard Grimmjow threaten before throwing a punch to Ichigo's face, getting blocked by said man's crossing arms "the hell are you on about? You're the one who hit her asshole!" They seriously couldn't be scrapping because you got knocked over. There was a deeper meaning behind this scuffle, which you couldn't care less about at this point, you just wanted them to stop fighting.

"cut it out!" You tried calling to them, your plea washing over both their heads as they grappled in the dirt. Ichigo got his foot between them, planting it on Grimmjows stomach and kicking him off as hard as he could. Grimmjow landed in a crouch, feet and hands skidding across the floor with the level of power he was kicked with. With both men springing to their feet you took the opportunity to dart in between them. You trusted Ichigo enough to not accidentally attack you when your back was turned to him, so chose to fully face a pissed off Grimmjow, murderous intent flashing in his eyes.

"Grimmjow, stop" your plea came out strained with the exuberance you needed to attempt to hold him back, shoulder shoved into his midsection, arms wrapped around him. He felt hot to the touch, whole body vibrating with adrenaline as he glared at his rival, standing a few feat away watching intently, ready to react if he were to turn on you. That only enraged him further. Like he was some rabid beast who couldn't control himself around his own mate. His mate who was annoyingly trying to hold him back from defending his claim. Not mate, Grimmjow mentally corrected himself.

"woman" Grimmjow lowly warned you, attempting to get around you without shoving you again. You stubbornly followed his movements, not letting up the pressure you had on his middle. Grimmjows eyes flicked down to yours. You looked mad, confused. A little scared. That bastard had scared you, and he was going to pay "move"

"no" you stubbornly refused, tilting your chin up to meet his eye. Trying to get him to see you were serious, if he was going to try and get at Ichigo, he was going to have to go through you first. You couldn't tell in that moment if you were being brave or stupid "not until you calm down"

"My my, isn't it wonderful to see you children all playing nicely together" A new voice interrupted the moronic display, musical lilt indicating thick amusement in the deep voice. Relief flooded you at the new appearance, someone to help talk sense into this idiot. Urahara had walked over to investigate the commotion, amused grey eyes peering over the fan he had in his hand, loftily wafting it over his face. His usual hat was tilted back enough to allow his eyes to be visible as he watched the chaotic scene, sharp vision taking note of all the visible damage between the two parties

"You!" Grimmjow growled, turning away from you so suddenly your arms lost their grip, to stomp over to the eccentric exile. Urahara pointed at himself in a over exaggerated "who, me?" kind of way, lowering his fan to reveal the ever present smirk on his face "come with me" Grimmjow growled a moment before he grabbed Urahara by the face, muffling an unmanly squeak before dragging him away with the help of his sonido technique. The quick departure knocked up an angry cloud of dust where you had last seen Urahara standing

You stared amazed in the space where they had disappeared, waiting for your brain to catch up and make sense of what had just happened. The crowd of nosy onlookers started to disperse, gossiping between themselves at the spectacle they had just witnessed. Your mouth opened and closed a few time as you struggled to form a coherent sentence. Well, Grimmjow was Urahara's problem now. Or depending on how you looked at it, Urahara was Grimmjow's problem.

A heavy hand on your shoulder embarrassingly made you jump in fright, adrenaline wearing off made you a little wary. Ichigo had that frown back on his face as he looked down at you. "Are you okay? He didn't hurt you?" He asked softly. Like Renji, he didn't agree with violence of any kind against woman and seeing you get shoved to the ground irked him. Not to mention he knew how important you were to Renji, he would look out for you the same way he would want Renji to look out for his own sisters, how Renji had already looked after his sisters

"Im fine" you promised. You really were, you didn't hit the ground hard, and your ass cushioned your fall. Ichigo let his hand slip from your shoulder as you turned to face him "are YOU okay? That's one hell of a bruise forming on your chin" you nodded the the rapidly blackening mark across his jaw. Ichigo rubbed it gently with a shrug

"lucky shot"

"Do you know what got him so mad?" You couldn't for the life of you what could've sent Grimmjow into such a fit of rage. Neither of you had even noticed him until he started swinging. There was nothing he could've overheard you two say that would warrant a reaction like that. Ichigo shrugged, seemingly Unphased by the altercation now that it was over

"It's Grimmjow, does he need a reason?" Fair point well made. In your very limited experience of Grimmjow, no, he didn't need an excuse to become unhinged. Just another part of his radiant personality

"You know, I would of happily followed you back here if you had asked. You didn't need to drag me across the Seireitei by my face" Urahara happily told Grimmjow when they came to a stop outside of his own small lab on the outskirts of the twelfth. Kyoraku had gifted him the space after his help during the Quincy war, along with the option to return to soul society at his pleasure. While he had decided to split his time between here and the world of the living, the gesture was appreciated.

Grimmjow ignored the overly happy quip, all but ripping the door from its hinges and walking into the lab. Grimmjow restlessly paced the little free floor space, waiting for that idiot to follow him in. Urahara leaned against one of the desks, watching Grimmjow pace like a caged animal.

"what can I do for you Mr. Jaegerjaquez?"Urahara questioned in a light tone. While he found it better to be direct with Grimmjow, he couldn't always pass up the opportunity to tease him. Perhaps this wasn't the time for that though.

"there's something wrong with me, you need to fix it" Grimmjow spat the words, unrelenting in his pacing, refusing to look him in the eye. He hated asking for help, loathed feeling weak. Urahara had proved himself to be a genius, even if he was a childish asshole. If anyone knew how to fix him, it was this guy.

"Yes, I'm leaning towards anger management issues with psychotic tendencies myself, but without the proper examinations I wouldn't like to diagnose.." Okay, there was always time to tease the explosive Espada. Urahara stopped his comical, yet accurate assessment of Grimmjow's mental state when said lunatic whipped around to bare his teeth. Urahara held up in hands in mock surrender, trying hard to remove any evidence of amusement from his face "What are your symptoms?"

"I think someone used one of those shinigami spells on me" Uraharas eyebrows shot up under his messy hair, he hadn't expected that. He waved his hand in a 'elaborate' motion, interested in the unusual claim "I keep getting feelings , thoughts that ain't my own. It's like I can't control my own damn thoughts or actions "

That didn't sound like any "shinigami spell" Urahara had ever heard of. Being someone who had mastered nearly all of them, and created a few of his own, he very much doubted there was one like that, that would escape his notice. Grimmjow was being vague for some reason, very uncharacteristic for the blunt man. "I'm going to need you to tell me everything Grimmjow, if you'd like for me to help you. I cannot fix what I do not know"

Grimmjow growled frustrated. Of course the nosy bastard would want to know every little detail. Gritting his teeth, Grimmjow saw very little choice in the matter "I fucked someone. Now I can't get the bitch out of my head. She's making me feel things I don't fucking feel. My instincts are overpowering my head, I feel like I'm going out of my damn mind." Grimmjow dragged his hands down his face, mentally exhausted battling with his instincts and intrusive thoughts. Already they were creeping in, demanding he go back and finish off that punk Ichigo, take that woman back to her den and fuck her to cement his claim.

Urahara studied Grimmjow for a moment. The dark circles under his eyes, his restless moving around. He did look like he was fighting some internal battle, and that he wasn't necessarily coming out victorious. The idea that Grimmjow had gotten feelings for this mystery woman flashed through his mind briefly, before comparing the notion to what Grimmjow had said.

While Grimmjow may not have experienced caring for someone before, let alone love, it really wouldn't explain his instincts going haywire. Nor feeling like he wasn't in control of his own thoughts or feelings. Love could make one do crazy things, it didn't actually turn them crazy. He was concerned for Grimmjows sanity as it was.. Urahara concluded it had to be a hollow thing, not human. He had studied hollows for decades, everything from their special abilities, their eating habits, to sleeping habits to..

"Grimmjow, when you slept with this woman, was it by chance your mating season?" Urahara had a suspicion he knew what had happened, though if it had happened without Grimmjows knowledge or this woman's consent... oh boy

"Rutting season" Grimmjow automatically corrected, nodding the affirmative yet waving a dismissive arm. The fuck had that got to do with anything? He had halted his pacing to watch the hat wearing idiot come up with a solution to his problem

" I see, and did you, per chance, happen to claim her?" Urahara asked as evenly as he could, pressing his fingertip together over his chest

"I fucked her?" Why did this idiot always have to speak in riddles. Fucking is fucking. What more was he getting at

"You misunderstand. Did you claim her? Mark her? Bite her hard enough to draw blood?" It was scary how accurate he described what had happened that night. Grimmjow remembered the taste of your blood on his tongue as he sunk his teeth into your neck. How you moaned like a bitch, writhing beneath him as he marked you as his own,ah shit. Grimmjow reluctantly nodded, seeing where this fool was heading

"Congratulations ! It appears you have successfully mated!"Urahara proclaimed animatedly, clapping his hands together as though it was a joyous revelation. Impossible. You were a shinigami, not a hollow. He couldn't of ACTUALLY mated with you , despite his inner alpha taking over his instincts and treating you as such.

"bullshit" Grimmjow snapped, kicking over a small table, sending paper flying all over the floor. A just reaction to the nonsense he was being presented with, He needed a solution, not some crazy story this crackpot had cooked up "She ain't a hollow"

"No, I agree, it is quite unusual that you had mated with someone who could not reciprocate" Urahara absentmindedly rubbed over his scruff on his chin, thinking over all he knew about hollows and their matings. No studies were ever conducted between Hollows and humans, however. This was completely unprecedented. "But it seems to be the likely cause of your distress. You've formed a bond, it's understandable how it could be effecting your instincts, it's a big change"

Grimmjow looked like he was about to throw up. His eyes were wide with shock, staring at the floor hardly believing the words he heard. He couldn't be bonded to you. You drove him fucking insane. He didn't want a mate, didn't want to be bonded. You were a weak shinigami bitch, you couldn't even mate! How could he have mated with someone who couldn't mate!

"How can I break it?" Grimmjow asked almost desperately. There had to be something he could do to undo what happened. He'd be willing to try just about anything. He couldn't stay like this, couldn't be bonded to you. To someone who wasn't even bonded to him

"Im afraid you can't, hollows mate for life as far as our research has revealed " Urahara watched silently as Grimmjow struggled to wrap his mind around the surreal reality Kisuke just delivered. It was a lot to take in, granted. Grimmjow leaned heavily on the wall, sliding down the cool surface to sit on the floor, legs suddenly feeling weak. He propped up one leg, using his knee to support his elbow as he raked his fingers through his hair, internally imploding

"So..." Urahara's teasing voice made a reappearance, curiosity getting the better of him. He hated half stories and questions left unanswered, he honestly waited as long as he could before asking, admittedly, it wasn't that long. "who's the lucky lady?"

Grimmjow sent Urahara a murderous look at the return of his teasing tone. Funny, Urahara mused, he was well aware of the old proverb "curiosity killed the cat", turns out, the cat was about the kill the curiosity.

Grimmjow was just about ready to make him eat that hat. The fake innocent look he got in return wasn't fooling him. Bastard was enjoying this. Well fuck, Grimmjow thought, amazingly considering answering the question before it dawned on him. The fuck was your name again? He racked his brain trying to remember what the old drunk had called you when he introduced you. He couldn't remember, his annoyance dominated the memory, too pissed at being lumbered with her to pay attention to what they had said. His face must have show his confusion

"Grimmjow! Don't tell me you don't know her name!" If he didn't get that stupid look off his face, Grimmjow was going to punch him. It wasn't like he had planned any of this, why would he bother to remember your damn name!

"I didn't fucking listen when she told me! We didn't talk so I didn't fucking ask. I was never going to see her again! She's not in the 11th!" Grimmjow angrily defended himself. He felt like he was going insane. This had to be some kind of joke. Mated to someone who wasn't mated to him, mated to someone he didn't even know the name of.

"well there's a start, do you know what division she's in?" Urahara tried to help narrow it down, his own selfish curiosity getting the better of him. Though he thought it best to find out her identity, he'd have to have a chat with her, explain everything that was going on. Grimmjow didn't seem stable enough to adequately explain the situation. He barely seemed to grasp it himself.

"No" Grimmjow hadn't asked and she didn't offer up the information. Not that he would've listened if she had. The whole thing was a damn mess.He couldn't concentrate enough to seriously try and remember her name, not with the tormenting thought of Ichigo getting close to you dominating his thoughts. "That damn Ichigo knows her"

"Ichigo knows a lot of people Grimmjow, that doesn't exactly narrow it down" Urahara explained gently. The Espada seemed one distasteful joke away from loosing his mind, perhaps it best to save his teasing where Ichigo is concerned. He'd already stumbled upon their fight this morning, before nine am no less. He didn't want to add fuel to that particular fire

"The old drunk knows her, made me go on a mission with her" That was useful information at least, seemed a visit to the head captain was in order. He should be made aware of the situation, considering what Urahara knew about hollows and how protective they could be with their mates, that's not even fracturing in the influx of testosterone and other chemicals when in mating season. Thankfully, hollows only had two mating seasons a year.

"The fuck am I supposed to do now?" Grimmjow grumbled from the floor, forming and releasing a fist in his lap, absentmindedly flexing his bruised knuckles. Ichigo's jaw was tough, he hated to admit. Not so tough that he couldn't break his jaw though.. that was an appealing thought.

"These feelings aren't going to go away. If anything I imagine they'll get stronger as they progress and solidify. Perhaps it best for you to try to get to know this woman, see if you can't get her to fall in love with you" Grimmjow bristled at the word, head snapping up to stare at Urahara as though he had suddenly sprouted another head. Why the fuck would he want to do that?

"why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because, Grimmjow, your feelings aren't going to go away. I'm not confident in saying what will happen if they're not reciprocated. Your instincts are going to want to be around your mate. Wouldn't it be better if she also wanted to be around you?" Urahara Sincerely hoped Grimmjow would take his advice seriously, he had a few theories of what could happen if you didn't accept his advances. From his experience, nothing good ever came from denying your instincts.

"How the fuck do I do that?" He asked carefully, not wanting to seem suddenly eager to win you over. He was still debating running away, finding himself a den in the Forrest and living off the land away from everyone. Would be a damn sight easier than trying to prove himself as a mate. Sure, he could easily kill any man that chose to challenge him, could hunt and kill to provide you with food. He had no problem satisfying you, if your previous encounters were anything to go by

"Romance, Grimmjow. Romance. Women appreciate a sensitive man who'll talk about their feelings. Now I'm not one to brag, but I've been quite successful with the ladies myself" there was that urge to vomit again. Grimmjow felt like his whole world had been pulled from under his feet, dumping him mercilessly into the dark unknown. He hardly heard the blonde man prattle on about romance, flowers and chocolates. Didn't absorb the recommendation for candle lit dinners and moonlit walks. The whole idea made his stomach churn, he felt suffocated in the room, walls closing in on him.

Grimmjow jumped to his feet, ignoring the call of his own name as he marched himself out the room, looking for the salvation of wide open spaces. Grimmjow ripped the door open, not stopping when he roughly bumped into someone trying to enter, unhearing the muffled call from Urahara and the annoyed remark from whom he had body checked. As soon as he was free of the walls he ran, sprinted as fast and as hard as he could to the tree line. Pushing himself further, easily weaving between the dense trees, running as far away from his problems as he could

"Captain Hirako, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Urahara finally addressed his new guest after they had lost sight of Grimmjow in the trees. A problem to deal with at a later date. Unprompted visits from his long time friend weren't uncommon, though it was quite early in the day for Shinji to be avoiding work.

"how many times do I gotta tell ya to stop with all that Captain nonsense" the usual greeting from over one hundred years ago fell as easily from his lips as breathing did. He breezed into the room as if he owned it, looking down at the array of papers strewn out on the floor, raising a questioning eyebrow to his companion

Urahara just shook his head. He'd deal with the mess later. He indicated to the empty chair in-front of him, smiling when his friend stubbornly chose to stand leaning against the same wall previously propping up Grimmjow

"you look stupid in that hat". Shinji couldn't help but add the tease. They struggled to have a conversation without at least one jab each, which delighted him to no end. At least he didn't have that same stupid look on his face as he used to have when Kisuke first became Captain. The years had given him a confidence he didn't possess back then.

"almost as stupid as that wonky hair cut your sporting" Urahara grinned from behind his fan, unable to hide the amusement from his eyes. He enjoyed their back and forth, Shinji's dry wit hadn't changed much over the years.

"so, what the hell is his problem?" Shinji Hirako asked of his friend, nodding to the door Grimmjow just ran through. Urahara sighed, Grimmjow wasn't going to make this easy on himself. But that was a problem for later. He instead, smiled at his new guest, pulling his fan from the folds of his top to fan his face.

"Grimmjow just received some very difficult news" was the simple explanation offered. Shinji nodded, he already had a pretty good idea what that news was, it was actually what he had came to speak to Kisuke about. Shinji went on to explain what he needed to explain, getting a similar solution to the one he had thought of himself. A very awkward meeting was needed, and soon.

#Accidental mate #grimmjow x you #grimmjow x reader #grimmjow smut #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #bleach #kisuke urahara #ichigo kurosaki #bleach fanfiction #bleach smut #small Shinji appearance

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