#Cloth Wash Powder | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luludeluluramblings · 1 month ago

Text

Socialite!BatSis!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family - Part Two

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One

A/N: I don't know if this will live up to the last one. But, the BatFamily is now going to deal with the consequences of their own actions. This is where we get Bruce and Barbara's POVs on the matter.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Warning: Start of Yandere spiral, Implied past Assault/SA, Fem!Reader, Reader is coping in the only way the known how.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You had no recollection of falling asleep the night before. But, when you woke up in your own bed late in the morning, you laid there for a while blankly.

Thoughts of laughter, flames, and the echo of a princess's name in your head. Although you quickly reminded yourself that Cinderella wasn't ever really a princess. She was a noble and she had work to do. Just like you.

Ignoring the empty drawers spaces of your vintage wood dresser was easy. It wasn't like it had belonged in the family for generations. It was just something Bruce bought for you when your designer clothes took up too much space in the old one you brought with you from your childhood home. The drawers had broken on it from being stuffed with items your team of stylist insisted you needed. And, now you wonder if Bruce had ever gotten your old one fixed. Probably not.

You shook your head of the thoughts. Moving into your spacious closet filled with empty coat hangers. You hadn't thrown your shoes in the fire last night, but looking at the bloody red bottoms on some of the heels made you wish you had. But, you can't be Cinderella if you have no shoes.

Shaking your head again and again of the thoughts that plague your mind. You really are Cinderella though. And, you have work to do.

Throwing on one of the more casual designer outfits - you would have laughed at the thought once, you begin your routine for the day. Scrubbing everything away in the shower as you exfoliate every bit of skin that had been touched and every stray bit of ash that had clung to your skin.

Then beginning your much too long skin care routine. You made sure to play some music to help the complex task that your highly skilled and highly paid team of dermatologist told you was an absolute must. With expensive creams and odd chemicals that once made your skin burn, but now you seemed to depend on. You miss the beef tallow your mother insisted worked better than anything. But, it wasn't vegan. So it had to go. It's not like half your shoes and handbags weren't made from real leather.

You shake the thought again. Always shake it away. Even as you mouth the lyrics to the random song playing.

Go and fix your make up, girl, it's just a break up

Run and hide your crazy and start actin' like a lady

'Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together

Even when you fall apart

But this ain't my mama's broken heart

The chorus echoes in your head as you wash away the oils and lather on the creams. Slowly you apply the makeup to your tired eyes as you start to make yourself look human again.

Powder your nose, paint your toes

Line your lips and keep 'em closed

Cross your legs, dot your eyes

And never let 'em see you cry

The smile you give the mirror after everything is said and done, primped and polished, should win you an Oscar. But, thankfully you don't have to deal with anything like that for a few more months. The season has just ended and you needed to contact your stylist about a new wardrobe for this coming one.

Go and fix your make up, well it's just a break up

Run and hide your crazy and start actin' like a lady

'Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together

Even when you fall apart

But this ain't my mama's broken heart

Your hum as you move down stairs. Time to gag on that collagen and green juice concoction before going to the spa. Not to relax. No, you had to pretend last night wore you out, and it did. But, socialites can only relax if they spend money. Them is the rules. Oh, wait. You're not supposed to talk like that anymore. Better shake that thought away.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Bruce was used to long nights of no sleep. Of being beaten by criminals and his own demons. Sometimes he'd even have bruises from his own children littering his skin. Either from missions gone wrong or a training session gone right.

But, the scars you left on him last night. The way you tore him to shreds and wailed. The bruises on your skin. Those would haunt him.

You were the delicate one. But, he didn't know how to handle delicate things. He just knew how to give things purpose. And, so he did. Placing you at his side to face the Gotham elites had been a genius move, he had once thought. It freed up Tim, who had been his primary asset in the field. It kept Damian from harming some of the more aggravating members of high society. And, he knew the other's lack of interest in the events and the people you make pulling teeth a more pleasant experience.

Additionally, you were utterly charming. How could you not be? You didn't even get it from him. You clearly had gotten it from your mother and everyday he had been grateful for it. Her features blending with his own mother's had made you. His sweet girl.

He can recall the times in the Bat Cave when no one was around and he'd give in to that temptation. The one where he'd justify checking in on you and your mother. And, ignoring that other man.

The smiles and laughter, it all was foreign to him. The landscape foreign. The house foreign. But, deep down he knew you where his. Always his. He had many regrets. Letting your mother raise you wasn't one of them. Letting her go? Maybe. But, he desperately avoided lingering on it.

Right now, sitting in the Bat Cave and seeing the damage the others had sown across Gotham in a wave of crime so violent, great, and terrible that people didn't even connect it back to the very protectors of this city; Bruce regretted leaving you to handle it. You had done it so beautifully. But, he needed his little girl back. He had gifted you to Gotham and left you in it's hand, but that had been his mistake.

He's sorry. He'll fix this. Or, if his destructive hands can't, he'll direct them somewhere they'll be of better use.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

It was Barbara who found you first. In the kitchen acting like everything was normal as you drank your morning concoction. You had laughed off you gagging on it once when Duke asked what it was. You had joked it was disgusting with a laugh.

She remembers thinking 'Better you than me.'

There wasn't anything malicious intent behind the thought either. It had been a passing casual thought that had been lost to the flood of other things in her head.

But, she was grateful she never said it out loud. The only thing she had to ease her guilt at the moment was that she had been silent in your downfall.

Which wasn't good. But, was still nearly just as terrible. She helped people, damn it. Even when she was broken, she helped people. Why had she missed helping you?

"Hey, how are you feeling?" She can't stop the slight wince at the tentative way she asks while you set down the much to large empty cup. Inwardly, she notes that you don't move to eat anything else.

Barbara can faintly recall a time when you wore those silly almost childish t-shirts from some southern store that she hadn't been overly fond of, while making a giant batch of cinnamon rolls. She hadn't eaten one at the time. But, Alfred had reported you ate four yourself. And, she knew Jason had stolen nearly six in his usual pantry raid, and the other's had squirreled off with a few. But, only long after they had cooled and you had disappeared into your room.

"Fine." Comes your reply as you snap her out of her memories. Only to watch you drink some water to chase away the taste in your mouth with practiced easy.

"I don't believe that." Barbara isn't one to mince words. She's briefly reminded of Bruce's stubbornness with your short reply. But, she's stood up to him before without any fear.

"What do you expect me to say? I had a breakdown. It was therapeutic. All better. Time to get back to life."

"You can't juts call that therapeutic. You started a bonfire last night and where practically nude-"

"Oh, come on. No one got hurt. Not even a criminal. Besides, those clothes were out of season and I need to clear space anyway." The way you casually dismiss her had her reeling back.

It sounded like such a vain way of putting things. And, it almost made Barbara want to drop the topic out of annoyance with you.

Until she realizes, this isn't you. This is something they let you become.

No, worse. It's something you thought they wanted you to become. Something they pushed you into and let you rot away while trying to fill your role in this family.

"Fair enough." She finds herself saying instead. This is new territory, and she knows she's not going to fix anything with one conversation. This is going to need some careful deprogramming. A detox from this lifestyle you felt forced into.

Barbara may have gotten rid of the perpetrators with the other's, but now it was time to bring you back into the fold where you would properly flourish. There's was still a chance. Last night had shown her there was. You had broken, but the pieces were still there. They could fix this she could fix this.

"What are your plans today then? Something a bit more relaxing, I hope." She tries to smile, and you even smile back. But, it's wrong. It's too sharp. Not in anger, but from how brittle it looks. Like your lips are made from fractured glass, dangerous to touch and cracked.

"A little bit. I have to go to the spa. Do the usual post-Gala wind down. By massage therapist is a huge gossip so she's the best way to get some of the rumors I heard last night to spread quickly. Then I need to call my stylist. Gonna need a new style since the seasons are changing." You lightly comment. Explaining your day to her with ease.

In a sickening awe, Barbara looks at you.

You… You had a strategy for this. You had been doing this long enough that there was a strategy in place for this. One that made it so easy for you to bounce back into things even if you broke down.

"You could take and actual break you know. Take a day off. Gotham had a busy night last night. A lot of those rich asses got their lives upended. We could put out a statement that we were one of them-"

Your eyes narrow at the statement. Not in anger, but in opportunity. "Come on Barbara. The world doesn’t stop turning just cause I lit a pyre. It keeps moving a turning. Now is the prime time to come out looking unshakable to the other Elites. A game of whoever is left standing is being played here. Of who’s not going to crumble under the pressure?"

Already the ways to spin your actions to garner sympathy with the others in your circle start to pop into your head. Cinderella has to get back to work.

Time to pull the lintels from the ashes.

Barbara feels a dawning sense of dread and horror. This is going to be worse than she anticipated. The shame she feels makes her eyes prick. You were more like Bruce than anyone had realized and they had made you use it in the worst possible way.

As she watched you go about your day, making phone calls while pinching your cheeks to add a natural color to them, she made note. They would fix this. They would bring you back. Fuck those assholes, they were old pawns in Gotham's games of power.

Time to bippity-boppity-off some more and keep you home.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: As I said, don't know if I hit the mark here. But, I want to watch the Bat Family struggle to fix this. Reader's not going to have a villain arc, though she deserves one. She's going to get princess treatment. Just remember, that might not be a good thing.

A/N: Song is 'Mama's Broken Heart' by Miranda Lambert. Yes, it is a break up song, but the undertones have this sorta feminine rage bubbling under the surface.

A/N: Also, for anyone wondering where I've been, I had/have thyroid cancer. But, we caught it early! I'm currently radioactive and in quarantine on an air mattress in the corner of my bedroom. I also had my entire thyroid removed in March. I'm okay though! It's all uphill from here!

#luluramblings #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #socialite!reader

841 notes · View notes

kirti-111 · 2 years ago

Text

Ethiek - The Ultimate Detergent Powder for Your Washing Machine

In today's fast-paced world, finding the perfect detergent powder for your washing machine can be a daunting task. With so many options available, it's essential to choose a product that not only cleans effectively but also takes care of your machine's longevity. Look no further, as Ethiek detergent powder is here to revolutionize your laundry experience.

Ethiek is a trusted brand known for its commitment to quality and ethical practices. Here's why it stands out as the best detergent powder for your washing machine:

1. Superior Cleaning Power: Ethiek detergent powder is formulated with advanced cleaning agents that effortlessly remove tough stains, dirt, and grime from your clothes. Its powerful formula ensures that your laundry comes out looking fresh and vibrant after every wash.

2. Machine-Friendly: One of the most significant advantages of Ethiek is its compatibility with washing machines of all types and brands. It has been specially designed to protect your machine's vital parts, preventing any damage due to excess suds or residue buildup.

3. Gentle on Fabrics: While Ethiek is tough on stains, it is gentle on your clothes. Your garments will retain their color, shape, and softness, even after repeated washes. Say goodbye to the wear and tear caused by harsh detergents.

4. Value for Money: With Ethiek, a little goes a long way. Its concentrated formula means you can use less detergent per load while still achieving outstanding results. This translates to cost savings in the long run.

5. Gentle Fragrance: Ethiek leaves your laundry with a pleasant and subtle fragrance that lingers, giving your clothes that freshly washed scent without being overpowering.

6. Easy to Use: Ethiek detergent powder dissolves quickly in water, ensuring that it mixes well and cleans thoroughly. No more worrying about detergent residue on your clothes.

In conclusion, when it comes to choosing the best detergent powder for your washing machine, Ethiek emerges as the top choice. Its superior cleaning power, machine-friendly formula, fabric care, environmental responsibility, and value for money make it a clear winner in the laundry room. Make the switch to Ethiek today and experience the difference in your laundry routine. Your clothes and your washing machine will thank you for it!

#detergent powder #Detergent Powder for sensitive skin #Best detergent liquid for clothes #Eliminate detergent residue on clothes #Benefits of using detergent liquid #How to remove odor from clothes with detergent liquid #best detergent powder for remove tough stains #detergent powder for washing machine #Eco-friendly laundry detergent #front load washing machine powder #laundry detergent for gentle clothes #laundry conditioner softener

1 note · View note

bruisedboys · 5 days ago

Note

Aaaaand okay I swear I’m about to shut up but I know steve rogers is your bf and you’re slowly converting me so can I please request him with the prompt “you're blurring your words together, time for bed”? He’s just so. Bossy <3

HI MAEE omg I love you for this thank you!! also yep mhm I need him to boss me around. for science x join the celly!

steve rogers x fem!reader, 1.1k words

Steve comes home from his week-long mission bruised and exhausted, his chest aching for you. You’re all he wants after a week away. As much as he loves his team, you’re the only person he wants to see after spending seven days straight with Nat, Sam, and Bucky.

You’re not hard to find. He pushes the front door shut, and he’s shouldering his pack off when he hears footsteps from the hall.

“Steve?”

A second later you appear from around the corner, looking pretty as ever, clad in your flower-print pyjama pants and one of Steve’s old shirts. He grins.

“Hi, honey.”

You beam and throw yourself at him. Steve gets his arms around your waist and hugs you so hard he lifts you off the ground, your arms locked around his neck like a vice. He breathes you in — you smell amazing, the peach shampoo he bought you last week lingering in your hair, mingled with that soft lemony laundry powder you always use on your clothes. He’s so happy to see you he forgets to speak, until you fill the silence,

“I missed you so much,” you say into his neck.

Steve puts you down, grinning like a madman, hands greedy on your warm body. “I missed you too, sweetheart. Come on, let me see you.”

He steals his arm from around your waist and gets his hand on your jaw, encouraging you back. He holds you a few inches from his chest and leans away so he can look at you properly. You smile up at him, all sorts of pretty, your hair messy and your face all dewy like you’ve just washed it. He’s missed you so, so badly. He thumbs your cheek.

“How’d you get prettier while I was gone, hm?” Steve murmurs, and while he will admit to purposefully flirting, he totally means it. He imagined your face plenty of times while he was away, but it could never compare to how you look right now.

You flush. “Steve.”

Steve’s chest aches. He loves the way you say his name, all flustered like that. Egged on now, he doubles down. “Seriously, honey, it was only a week,” he says, feigning disbelief. “Can’t you give a guy a break?”

“Oh my god,” you mumble, and hide your face in his chest, hands screwed into the sides of his jacket.

Steve laughs, giddy with fondness. “Hey, that’s not fair. I haven’t seen you all week and now you’re hiding from me? Come out,” he says firmly.

You emerge then, still flustered, but your lovesick smile mirrors Steve’s own. Steve curves his arm tighter around your waist and dips down to kiss you on the mouth. You push up into the kiss like you were waiting for it, your lips warm and soft, tasting of mint. Steve, too eager and somehow still unaware of his strength, accidentally holds you so tight you’re forced up onto your tiptoes from the pressure of it. But you only hum against his mouth, content to be manhandled. Steve decides he’s never going on another mission again.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

When he pulls away, you’re flushed as ever.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, but you make it sound like I love you, too.

Steve just grins. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “C’mon, let’s sit down and you can tell me about your week.”

He guides you to the living room, half carrying you. You’re clinging to his arm like a leech, seeming unwilling to let him go. Steve’s not complaining. He doesn’t want to let go either, not for a long time.

“Did you eat yet?” You ask him on the way to the couch.

Steve nods. “Yeah, babe. Ate on the way home.” He knew if he came home without having eaten, you’d insist on making him something, despite the late hour. Besides, Sam insisted on stopping for Mexican on the way back.

Steve sits on the couch and tugs you down with him. You end up sitting sideways in his lap, your knees bent up in front of your chest, looking like everything Steve’s ever wanted. He holds your waist and tries not to smother you right then and there. He wants to hear about your week, every detail.

“Tell me what you did this week,” he says, rubbing big circles into your back.

You smile at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, and press one hand to his chest. Steve’s heart thud thud thuds like it wants out. He’d let it jump right out and land in your hands, if he could.

“Okay,” you say. You push your hand up his shoulder to hold his neck. “So, after you left on Monday, I…”

You launch into an explanation of the week, sparing no details — you know by now that when Steve wants to hear about something, he wants to hear everything. Meanwhile Steve listens, half super eager to take in everything you’re saying, half mesmerised into a quiet lull by how lovely you look in his lap like this, your hand slowly trudging up into his hair as you talk.

You tell him about work, about how you went and looked at cats at the adoption shelter on Tuesday, about the new pasta recipe you made last night, and that there’s leftovers in the fridge if you want some, baby. He listens until you start to droop, your body slowly slumping into his chest.

“And then, yest’day I got the groceries,” you’re saying, your words slurring together at the ends like you’ve got a spoonful of honey in your mouth. “But they didn’t hav’any of that chocolate you like, Steve, so I went to th’store out by…by—“

You cut yourself off with a deep yawn, your shoulders rolling back languidly. Steve rubs your back.

“Honey,” he says, both amused and so, so fond.

You blink at him. “Hm?”

Steve gets his hand under your jaw and tilts you to look at him. You look like you’re doing a great deal to keep your eyes from falling shut. He pushes his hand down to your shoulder and thumbs your collarbone.

“You’re blurring your words together,” he tells you. “Time for bed?”

You frown. “Wasn’t finished,” you say, looking somewhat put out.

Steve laughs softly through his nose. You’re so cute he could eat you.

“S’okay. You can finish telling me tomorrow, yeah?” He strokes hair from your neck gently, his other hand pushing under your shirt to feel your warm skin. He spreads his hand over the small of your back. “You’re tired, babe.”

His touching seems to have the effect he hoped for — you practically melt in his lap, your shoulders going lax as you lean into him.

“Okay,” you say, compliant as putty in his hands.

Steve takes you to bed. He leaves you under the covers while he brushes his teeth and gets changed, assuming you’ll be asleep by the time he’s done. But when he slides into bed next to you, you reach for him.

“Missed you,” you murmur softly, pushing your arm across his chest in the dark.

Steve is so full of fondness he can barely get the words out, but he manages. “Missed you, too.”

547 notes · View notes

shinoko-oshi · 1 month ago

Text

Simon Riley is a nudist

And hear me out with this one, okay?

Simon loathed clothes. Ever since birth, he couldn’t stand wearing them. Tight shirts felt suffocating, clinging in all the wrong places, while loose shirts bunched up every time he sat down, irritating his skin like sandpaper. Socks made his toes feel trapped. Jeans? Felt like leg prisons.

So as he got older and lonelier, finally getting a place to call his own, he took full advantage of the one thing he had control over: being bare. Naked, free, relaxed. It was like finally exhaling after holding his breath for years.

He slept nude, cooked nude, cleaned nude, and lounged nude. If a neighbor caught a glimpse through the blinds? So be it. This was his damn house. His sanctuary.

He never had a problem with it… until he got a partner.

Simon didn’t really get the memo at first either. He didn’t think you’d mind. You were his, after all. And besides, he trusted you enough to be comfortable in his own skin and scars. And at first, you said nothing. You were happy he felt that at ease around you. Proud even.

But there came a point. A moment where things tipped.

A point where you could no longer ignore the way his balls quite literally stared at you while you were trying to eat lunch. A point where his nuts were uncomfortably pressed against your back at night because he liked to sleep curled around you. Hell, you could barely take him seriously during conversations not when all you could see was his ass swaying as he turned to grab something off the counter.

Still, you let it slide. Until that day.

Your friend was over, and Simon: tired from work and on autopilot made his way inside, tugging off his shirt, undoing his belt, already stepping out of his cargo pants and down to his boxers. The same boxers he was about to take off when he walked into the living room… and froze.

Silence.

Your friend’s face was a picture of horror. Yours was painted in full body embarrassment. Simon? Confused, holding the waistband in his hand.

That was it. The final straw.

You sat him down that night and had the talk.

“Look, Simon. I love you but can you at least wear boxers around the house?”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like having to see your ass when I eat. And I can’t take you seriously when you’re butt naked trying to lecture me about safety knives.”

“What’s wrong with my ass?”

Eventually, he relented. He agreed to boxers. And it worked. Peace was restored. You had no further complaints.

Until he got an idea. A plan.

What if he converted you?

It started subtle. He hid a few of your shorts. Nothing major. And soon you were walking around the house in nothing but your panties and one of your shirts. Then he escalated. Began hiding your shirts too. But you simply grabbed his, oversized and soft.

So he played dirty.

He ordered some itching powder off the internet. Just adding a little sprinkle in your shirts, his too: he had to sell the lie. And sure, you could just wash them. But that took hours. Hours you’d be bare.

So when you said you were hopping in the shower, he smiled and sat back.

The door swung open as you stomped out of the bedroom, frustration written all over your face.

“Ugh! Everything I wear is uncomfortable and itchy!” you whined, dumping handfuls of clothes into the washer with enough force to shake the drum.

Simon sat on the couch, arms behind his head, casual as ever. “What I’ve been sayin’, love. Clothes are the curse of people.”

You pouted, flopping down beside him with crossed arms. “Maybe I’ll just go nude like you.”

His grin stretched wide, wolfish and smug.

“Would never say no to that.”

And from that day on, the conversion was complete.

You were barefoot, panty clad, and happy. No shirt, no pants, no problem. Sunlight touched your bare skin as you made breakfast, as you lay in his arms on the couch, skin to skin. You slept bare chest to bare chest with him every night, feeling every steady breath and heartbeat. It was peaceful. Intimate. Freeing.

Until you found the itching powder tucked behind some boxes in the closet.

You almost laughed.

Sneaky bastard.

You should’ve been mad. But you weren’t. You just smiled to yourself, grabbed the bottle, and poured a little bit into his boxers.

Let’s see how he liked it.

Might write more for theses two if I have any ideas since I liked making this

514 notes · View notes

k0kichiimagines · 2 years ago

Text

covering scars w makeup is so much easier said then done im suffering

#not hiding fully and then getting on my clothes aaaa #I need to find out what products to buy 😭😭#covered in makeup rn literally #i feel like showering is the only easy way to wash it all off #ahxhuekslslcmejs #i have so many clothes i cant wear #or like so i finally have a clip that works in my hair its great #but hair down was my way to hide it if it was only a bit shown #i might buy body makeup and setting spray and hope that works #i actually need setting spray i only have powder #on a mission 💪🏻💪🏻💪🏻💪🏻

1 note · View note

leviathanleva · 4 months ago

Text

Caffè Crema

[Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!FemReader]

After months of giving your all to a man you barely even knew, you're finally rewarded. He takes off his mask in front of you almost hesitantly and you're overjoyed. Still, you want to, need to know why and so despite your better judgement, you ask him only to receive a laugh in response.

“Wan’ed you to see what the father of yer kids looks like, Birdie.”

[5.1k words] [Slightly NSFW]

Chapter 3 "Powder"

Simon had expected tension when he’d relied to you the news that he was leaving on deployment soon. But no, you were as chipper as ever, rolling your sleeves instantly and beginning to prepare him for the journey while bombarding him with questions.

It was…different, in a good way. There was no guilt for having to abandon you to fulfill his duty. You were worried, that much was clear, but you didn’t let it bother you enough for him to have to figure out a way to comfort you before leaving.

He was grateful even if he didn’t show it, hoping that the crinkled skin in the corners of his eyes was enough of an indicator.

He stretched lazily on your small couch, feet tucked under your bum as per your usual arrangement, while you absentmindedly folded his freshly washed clothes back into his duffle bag. A random sports channel is playing on the telly, drowning out the silence while he watches you fuss with a shadow of a smile hidden under his mask.

A pile of dry laundry was splayed over the armrest you were leaning against and you plucked each piece with the utmost care, looking over it for any spots that the washing machine hadn’t been able to get rid of before laying into his bag.

“Is this a bullet hole?” You murmur to yourself while looking over a gray knitted blouse, particularly at the edge of one sleeve where the stitching was ruined. You run your thumb over the hole, brows furrowing as you inspect it, then turn to Ghost with a small frown. “There’s a bullet hole in this one. You wanna keep it?”

When he realizes your question is targeted at him, he blinks away the thoughts swirling in his head and shrugs.

“Keep i’, adds character.”

You snort, but fold it regardless and stuff it with the rest of his clothes.

A distant whistling erupts from the kitchen and you stand to dust off the lint from your sweats before scurrying to get the kettle. It doesn’t take long before you reemerge with two steaming mugs in each hand and set one before him on the coffee table. He grumbles out a thank you while sitting up and tugging his mouth free from his mask.

Back tea with milk, just how he likes it, piping hot in a mug big enough for him to comfortably wrap his hand around.

“Gonna make a real good missus.” Ghost murmurs out casually and picks up the mug before taking a prolonged sip and letting his eyelids close at the familiar flavor.

“Yeah? Well, you’d make an awful husband.” You joke, playing along with the innocent understanding that he’s joking and not trying to figure out how to get your ring size without making it obvious. You kick at his knee with your own, a playful smile tugging on your lips. “You never fight with me over anything. Even when I try new cooking recipes off the internet.”

He mulls over your words for a moment, eyes focused on his steaming beverage.

“Didn’ leave no marks on me las’ night. Can complain abou’ tha’.”

“Jesus Christ, Simon.” You gasp and sputter to place a palm over his mouth, thrusting yourself into him as he fights off your flailing hands with ease. “Don’t say such things!”

“Why no’? ‘m just ‘aving a fight with me wife is all.” His teasing doesn’t relent but he lets you press your weight on him and guide him down into the cushions of the sofa. There’s a rumble coming from his chest, a series of snorts as he watches you struggle to keep from becoming completely flustered.

“Oh my God, stop! Stop it!” you’re already a flushed mess, he can feel your face burning from his position beneath you as you fight your wrists free from his loose grip.

“Tryin’a mount me like you did las’ nigh’, Birdie?” His hands come to rest on your waist, the words slipping past him just before you press both your palms against his mouth with a doe-eyed look on your face. He holds you steady, a wolfish smirk making his canines peak beneath his upper lip.

For a moment he thinks your abashed state will hit its limit and you might faint right on the spot, what will the uneven breathing and shaky arms, flared nostrils and quivering bottom lip.

“Shut! Shhh. No more sinful talk. Awful man you are, I’ll never marry you.”

An empty threat that only makes his smirk grow as his chocolate browns twinkle up at you adoringly. It doesn’t cross his mind even for a second that you’re unaware of just how serious he is and how much planning has gone on inside his thick skull over the past few days.

It’s okay, you don’t need to fret over such things, all you need to do is say yes when he finds you a pretty enough ring.

“Gonna behave now, old dog?” You ask and hesitantly free his mouth before settling down on top of him and crossing your arms, a hint of a victorious aura to your puffed-out chest and twitchy smile.

He pats your bum ever so gently and sits up abruptly, causing you to slide into his lap. The power imbalance tips in his favor as soon as he’s looming over you, wide shoulders and muscly arms making you nearly disappear in his embrace. He bumps his nose into yours, head bent down to your level and tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

You swallow thickly, your heart leaping in your throat and staying there as he lingers just on the edge of kissing you. And he’s already pawing at the waistband of your bottoms, greedily trying to slip his thick fingers beyond and toward the comfortable warmth of your sex.

A shiver crawls up your spine and a pleasant tingle settles low in your tummy. Your head snaps towards the digital clock propped above the TV.

“Stop it.” You scold, push him away from sniffling at your neck like a curious wolf and again on his back before slipping out of his lap. “Greedy old dog. I have to go shopping or else you’ll be having fried air with a side of nothing.”

A displeased grumble reaches your ears as you make your way towards the bedroom, intent on changing. You scoff, roll your eyes at your roommate’s childish pouting. Flicking the lights on, you trudge towards your wardrobe, your shared wardrobe although shared was a very generous way of putting it. Aside from a pile of boxers and socks and the occasional black top, there wasn’t much of Simon’s attire.

You wondered if this was all he had while slipping into a pair of jeans, thought over the fact that he did look like a guy who’d be caught dead before going out clothing shopping. It was a sad realization, you made a mental note to buy him some more things when your next paycheck arrived or when he decided to leave another wad of cash on the kitchen counter and label it as rent money.

At least he had a toothbrush, even though with how used and abused it looked, you considered getting him a new one alongside other male toiletries like soap that didn’t smell like wildflowers and shampoo that was a bit less strawberry scented.

After donning a comfy hoodie and walking to the hallway to put on your shoes, you glance at him and see him molding into the couch while his stare is glued to the screen and his brow is visibly lowered in displeasure.

“You can either sulk or you can come with me and get your blood going.” You suggest and straighten up once you’d tied your laces. He didn’t budge, only gave you a side glance. So you try again, more softly this time. “I’d like the company.”

You bat your lashes at him prettily, toss him a girlish smile and coquettishly slip on your jacket and he’s just a man after all, he gets up and pats down his top before joining you.

Coaxing him to do anything was never difficult, all that was needed from you was to look weak and cute and like you’d yield the moment he lumbered over to you. You liked to think you were special and that he wouldn’t bend the knee to just anyone, but then again you hadn’t seen Simon interacting with other people.

Most of your time together, all of your time together, was spent within the confines of your home. Ghost wasn’t one for going out, he was selfish like that, liked you all to himself, and with your attention nowhere else to be set except for him and his needs. You didn’t mind, it was cute in a way. He was needy and touch-starved even if he refused to admit it aloud.

Poor old dog, you’d take good care of him.

Although while you were locking the front door and felt him hook a pinkie finger around yours and lead you down the stairs, you got to thinking. Maybe you were more of a dog than him. You were the one bowing your head to his every wish and did anything you could think of to please him. It was one of your greatest pleasures to slave over him because he’d been so tired and beaten down when you’d first kind of “adopted” him.

Then again, he’d sort of made you adopt him. He’d just brought his things over and hadn’t left. You were certain he would have if you’d just said something, but you never had, you hadn’t confronted him about any of the weird things he’d done so far. Maybe it was too late now or maybe he’d just bury himself between your legs and lap at you until you were near unconscious like the last time he had when you’d seemed displeased. Or maybe he’d actually disappear and never come back and even though you’d known him for a couple of months, something sinisterly painful jabbed at your heart at just the image.

No, this was fine. You were happy to have him. Right…?

The grocery store wasn’t too far away, you could get to it on foot easily. Although something felt off. As you walked down the street with Simon in tow, you noticed the quick, ridged glances you were receiving from people of all kinds of ages. Some of them even made the effort of walking out of your way or taking sharp turns to avoid the two of you.

It was an odd experience, one that also subtly tickled a particular pleasure gland in your brain.

Was this what having a scary dog privilege was like? If so, then you were having the time of your life.

If only people knew what an actual sweetheart your companion was, they’d double over laughing at their first assumptions. But they never would because Ghost was yours.

When you picked up a cart that required both your hands to steer, you felt a tug at your jeans and glanced down to see he had hooked one finger around the belt strap on your side. You offer him a soft snort and try to bite back the grin that was growing on your face.

The place was full as expected, newly stocked as well for the weekend shopping most customers did around your area.

As you made your way through the aisles you scolded yourself for not scribbling down a list of what you needed, then proceeded to pick up a good amount of garlic and onion because most dishes need one or both aplenty. Wouldn’t hurt to have more even if you already had some back home.

Slowly, but steadily, your cart begins to fill the more you walk around and your vision falls on something that you were running low on. Funnily enough, since your new roommate, you’d found yourself having to shop more than once a week. He had a ravenous appetite and you liked that about him, liked having someone there to enjoy your cooking.

Living alone was a blessing, but it did get lonely sometimes.

And before you’d just make something hasty and easy for yourself, too busy with work, too tired after work, or just too lazy and not seeing the appeal of treating yourself. But now, you had someone who depended on you and it felt exhilarating to prepare meals and have another mouth to feed. It didn’t matter to you that Ghost wasn’t big on verbal praises in regards to the food you made him or the care you put into him.

You were happy just having him contently lounging on your couch and stroking your thigh while you lay beside him.

“Milk, eggs, cheese, butter, Simon, you’re tugging too much.” You call back while sifting through the egg cartons and trying to find one that has all ten eggs intact. When the tugging didn’t relent and you received no answer, you turned back with the intent of scolding the silent giant. “Simon, I said you’re – ”

But it wasn’t Simon. He was on your opposite side, staring downward. You follow his gaze to find a little sprout of a being hooked to your jeans and looking up at you with just as much confusion.

Apparently, the toddler had seen your tall, dark, and handsome partner linked to you and with their guardian nowhere to be found, she’d done the same. A child’s mind will forever stay a mystery to you.

The child doesn’t look older than five or four, with large eyes and a small mouth that was shaking with uncertainty while she gawked up at you in a silent plea. The jacket she had on made her look like a walking square, her hands barely poked out of the sleeves. She’d be adorable if not for the tear-stained cheeks that immediately tugged at your heartstrings.

You shake off the shock that has stiffened your joints and push your cart away.

“Hey, there.” You coo gently, shoo both of their hands off your jeans before they end up pulling them off your hips, and kneel down to greet the poor thing that was already hiccupping with sobs. “Hey, little Darling. Where’s your mommy? Did you get lost?”

When the waterworks start again, you gently pet her back.

“There, there. Let it out, it’s okay.”

You curse yourself for not packing any tissues in your bag and wipe the tears off her chubby cheeks with your thumbs.

“It’s okay, Sweetheart.” You soothe, glance up at Ghost to see him standing there silently and watching the encounter unravel with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Typical guy. “Can you tell me your name? Your mommy’s name?”

“Julie.” Was the choppy, nasally answer you receive as the toddle clumsily wipes the snot in the sleeve of her jacket.

“Is that your name or your mommy’s name?” You ask while unzipping her jacket enough to get it off her mouth and find it coated in a sheen of saliva.

Tissues, wet wipes, freaking toilet paper, you would have liked to have something to wipe the poor thing clean, but of course when you needed your supplies most, nothing but your wallet and chewing gum were in your bag.

“My name is Julie. Mommy’s name is Mommy.”

You would have giggled at that answer if Julie wasn’t pouring out her little heart’s sorrow in front of you. Instead, you nod with an okay and rise to face Ghost while resting your hands on your hips. From what you can see around you, nobody is looking around frantically for a lost toddler so you sigh and run a hand over your hair, thinking.

“Might have to take her to reception and make an announcement. Or the mom might already be there.” You say and give the hulking behemoth a once over before cocking your head to the side. “I’ve got the cart. You mind taking her?”

You take a step back, but by the uneasy looks both of them are giving you, it dawns on you that playing mediator was your next step before taking the child along.

“It’s okay.” You give Julie a warm smile, eyes moving between her and Ghost while he also squats down, a foot away from you as not the scare the little thing. “This is Simon. He’s really nice, I promise. He’s my best friend, in fact, he won’t hurt you. Promise.”

It takes some more convincing on your part before the toddler agrees to be picked up by your companion, but once he’d set her on his shoulders to scan the area for her parents, she seemed as cheerful as a cherub. Apparently, she’d never been held that high off the ground before, it was a whole new experience for her, and by the way Simon supported her back with a hand larger than her head and the gentle shine in his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t having too bad of a time either.

You make your way towards the reception desk, accompanied by a symphony of kiddish giggles, your grocery shopping left on the back burner until you relieve yourselves of your new bundle of joy.

Squeals would come from Julie every so often as she fidgeted around on Simon’s shoulders, her pudgy hands splayed in his dirty blond locks or tugging gently on his ears. It suited him being in charge of a little one, the fatherly appeal caused a pleasant knot to tighten in your chest and you tried to wipe the wide grin off your lips, but you just couldn’t.

“Hi, good evening.” You call out to the staff on the other end of the wide reception desk, thankfully catching their attention just before they turned their back on you. “Hi…We found this little girl in the dairy aisle, haven’t been able to find her parents. Would you be able to make an announcement maybe?” You lean in and lower your voice, glancing back briefly to see Julie preoccupied with giggling while toying with Simon’s free hand to hear. “We don’t know the names of the parents. I tried asking but…no dice. Her name is Julie.”

It takes less than ten minutes of you hanging about the reception after the announcement was made, while Ghost entertains the lively toddler, for you to see a flushed woman hurrying your way with her purse clutched under her arm.

You straighten up and adjust your jacket before taking a few small steps forward.

“Oh thank God. Julie!” The mother you presume, presses a hand to her chest when she sees her baby girl atop your roommate’s shoulders. “Thank goodness.”

She surges forward before plucking her child from Ghost’s hand and squishing her to her cheek with a relieved expression softening her earlier strained features. You guess Julie would have been just as vocally ecstatic if her face wasn’t immediately squished to her mom’s neck. You watch her flail for a bit before being maneuvered on her side so she can say a thank you.

“Thank you so much! I turned around for a second and – ”

“ – It’s not a problem.” You chirp back, waving your hands to hopefully dismiss the built-up anxiety that had the mother’s eyes still as wide as saucers. A polite smile adorns your lips, your gestures open and stance friendly to ease the poor woman before she suffers a heart attack at your feet.

“I hope she didn’t give you any trouble.” She says while smoothing out her daughter’s hair lovingly and pressing a feverish kiss to her forehead, earning a giggle in response. Then she extends a hand towards you, which you shake with pleasure. “She can be a bit of a handful. My name is Lily, by the way. I’m sorry to have to meet like this.”

“No trouble at all, ma'am.” You nod, let her shake Simon’s hand as well while you give her your name, and toss a fleeting glare at your loving roommate for not offering his. “We’re happy to help. Nice to meet you.”

“Thank you again, bless you. Say thank you, Julie.” Lily urges and gently grabs Julie’s arm before waving it at both of you. She turns then, readjusts the toddler in her arms, and offers you one last farewell before walking away. “Have a good evening and thank you.”

Despite both the distance and the chatty surge of people around you, you can hear Lily scolding her daughter under her breath before returning to the cart she’d abandoned. It all makes you laugh, especially hearing the muffled mumbles of protest as Julie stares at you and Ghost over her mother’s shoulder.

You wave at her one last time before fetching your discarded grocery cart and rolling it to Simon’s side.

“Didn’t know you were so good with kids.” There’s a teasing note to your tone as you glance at him from under your lashes, hiding a smirk behind the collar of your jacket.

You take the lead, slowly making your way back between the aisles while skimming around for any products you might have skipped past the first time.

“Didn’t eithe’.” He says softly as if the whole situation was the most foreign thing he’d ever witnessed. As if this had been the first time he’d held a toddler, it was heartwarming to feel the thought behind his absentminded voice.

“You’d make a great dad one day.” You hum and poke at his side with your elbow to make him look down at you only to beam up at him.

He’s silent for a while as you stop by the stacks of instant ramen, eyes never leaving yours as his head tilts to one side.

“Tha’ so?”

“Absolutely.” You respond with confidence before breaking your heartfelt eye contact to pick out a packet of noodles for rainy days when you don’t feel like cooking. “Maybe I’ll get to be the Godmother.”

You miss the way he arches an eyebrow at your statement as if you’d said the most blatantly inaccurate thing ever. You miss the way his chocolate brows fall down to your belly where they stay for a suspicious amount of time while he thinks over how nice it would be for you to go shopping with a wee one fussing about in your cart.

For the rest of your stay in the grocery store, Simon was noticeably more touchy. Instead of hooking himself to your jeans, he had a hand pressed to your lower back, thumb rubbing circles into your jacket, hard enough for you to feel. You didn’t question it, thinking his good mood was probably due to your encounter with Julie earlier, the toddler did boost his spirits up after all. He persisted while you were making your way home, holding the groceries in one hand while keeping his other on you.

Nothing seemed out of normal to you while you were outside besides him being a little needier than usual. You didn’t ask about it and didn’t tease him either, instead, you were trying to figure out what to cook up tomorrow because you had all the time you could wish for since it was Saturday. Then again, you had other chores to tend to. There was the washing up, hoovering, dusting.

But as soon as you twisted your key in the lock and stepped inside your now-shared apartment, he had you practically pinned against the wall. Grabby hands were fumbling to get your jacket off while you kicked off your shoes and spat mewling protests against the bulk of his shoulder.

Between getting you and himself undressed, you managed to slip out of his grip and pattered to the kitchen hurriedly, groceries in hand. You barely managed to set them on the table before Ghost twirled you around in his arms like you weighed nothing and bent you over the counter.

“Simon!” You hiss back and fuss to get yourself free. “What’s gotten you so riled up all of a sudden?” You feel a prominent bulge press against the soft curve of your ass and squeal. “Darling, please! At least take me to the bedroom first.”

A “tsk” comes from behind you and you’re about to yap at him that that’s no way to respond to the person who’ll be making him breakfast tomorrow, but the air is knocked out of your lungs as you’re picked up with ease and flopped over his shoulder like a potato sack.

“Simon!” You thump a weak fist against his back as he carries you down the hallway and it still makes you laugh that he needs to duck past your kitchen door, despite the situation. “Talk to me, Darling? Please? Not that I mind, but I need to put the groceries in the fridge and – ”

He tosses you on the bed and crawls on top of you, the mattress dipping under his weight. There’s a certain flare to his eyes as he stares you down and you feel a lump form in your throat before you force it down and coo up at him.

“Wanna tell me what’s been going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You try to squirm away but only end up with his erection lodged between your thighs and his body weight locking you down against the sheets. A moan slips past your lips before you cup his cheeks and run your thumbs over his eyebrows to ease the tension that’s built up there.

“Tell me, please?” You urge while getting comfortable beneath him and swatting away the hand he has toying with the button of your jeans. You lock your legs around his thick waist and pull him a little closer. “Please?”

He doesn’t respond right away, apparently smacking his hand off you thrust him into a spree of thoughts. You wait patiently, one hand scratching at his scalp tenderly while the other stays on his cheek. He looks away from you after a while, something you don’t quite comprehend darkening his moment of contemplation as he mulls over a decision you can only guess at.

His earlier desperation has all but vanished, leaving you absolutely confused.

“Si…Darling.”

You don’t expect him to turn back to you with pain glistening in those brown orbs you like so much before he props himself up on one elbow. Don’t expect the uneven movements of his hand as he slowly, timidly takes one of the black bands holding his mask in place and unfurls it from his ear before taking the little slip off entirely. He places it by your head and adjusts himself on both elbows, a thin-lipped frown tugging the corners of his mouth down as he watches avidly for your reaction.

A pang of guilt surges through you because of how long you’d been silently staring back at him in the darkness of your room. The street lamps illuminate the walls, illuminate his bare face as well.

His. Bare. Face.

The one he’d been hiding since you’d first met, the one you hadn’t seen even when you’d seen the rest of him stark naked whenever you made love. It doesn’t register at first, that you can see his whole face, that he’d finally let you see all of him.

Then your chest flourishes, it feels like exploding in a heap of budding flowers and a breathless laugh leaves your lips, one of joy, of an achievement long overdue, finally accomplished.

You hesitantly cup his cheeks again, this time feeling the light stubble grazing your soft skin.

“Hey…” You manage out, fighting to kick away the surprise and give him the love he deserves for taking such a step forward. “Hey, handsome old dog.”

Your tender expression forces him to halt his breathing altogether before he buries himself in the safety of your neck, breathing you in slowly, the familiar scent calming his strained nerves. You feel the muscles on his back ripple under your touch as you run your hand over his form tenderly, feel his chest expand with every strictly controlled breath he takes.

“Hey…” He murmurs back, greeting muffled into your skin as you rest a trembling hand against the back of his head and sink your fingers into his short hair.

You hadn’t even paid attention to the scars littering his battle-honed skin, they’d been the last thing on your mind as you’d taken him in. He was ruggedly charming, uniquely handsome, it boggled you why he so fiercely hid his face when there was nothing wrong with him. But that was a discussion for another day, you pushed down your bubbling questions and just let the moment consume you.

You feel his lips move against your neck as he swallows, and nuzzle your cheek against his crown lovingly before closing your eyes with a sigh. He relents when you nudge him with your nose to lift his head before pressing a kiss to his nose, then his cheeks, his chin and forehead before finally planting your lips on his. His desperation to remove your bottoms returns then and he’s back at toying with your button and zipper.

You let him take off your jeans while you tug at his jacket, leaving it to pool on the floor before he eases himself out of his blouse and nestles back above you. Your feet come to rest on his strong calves, hands in his hair and glazing over his back as he loses himself in your skin, nipping incessantly at your collarbone while silently asking for you to take off your top and let him feast on more than just your neck.

And as always, you’re pliant when he’s finally caught you under his bulk. You push him off enough to discard the article of clothing before letting yourself fall back into the sheets, mewling happily while he laps at your flesh like a man starved.

A heat pools in your loins, one you try to soothe by pushing your hips up into his and earning yourself a choked growl that makes you quiver with excitement.

But a question keeps nagging at you no matter how heated you become and how low his insatiable lips travel down your body. You hum when his nose nudges the hem of your panties and you stop him before he can pull them off and descend on your gathering slick.

“So…” You begin through a strained voice and glance down at him, finding his eyes already locked on you. Your mouth goes dry, throat tightening, but you force yourself to ask. You need to know, if nothing else, at least this. “What’s the occasion?”

He laughs at your hesitation, a deep, rumbling laugh choir that should come from the monsters in your childhood fairytales, not the man about to stuff his face between your thighs.

“Wan’ed you to see what the father of yer kids looks like, Birdie.”

<<< Chapter 2

Chapter 4 >>>

Masterlist

#x reader #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod mw2 #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader #ghost cod

731 notes · View notes