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lavenderspence · 2 months

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A bunch of cuties in love | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, nicknames (i think that's about it?)

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Running late to a meeting with Strauss, Hotch leaves Jack with his favorite person - you. The scene that greets him when he comes back leads to some realizations.

Request: Hotch request: BAU!Reader is Jack’s favorite and always spends the day with them when he’s brought along to the office. They have a cute bonding moment that Hotch secretly watches. Cue the “oh god I’m in love with them aren’t I”

A/N: it’s been two months today since I made this blog, and it’s been wild, it’s been fun, and it’s been a little teary. thank you for the love and support! Please enjoy this cute little hotch piece, I had a blast writing it! Thank you to the anon who requested this, and I’d love to hear what you think! Also, I miss old Disney😭

9:23.

On the days you weren’t working on a case, and the only thing you really needed to catch up on was paperwork, your usual start time was 8:30. Yet almost an hour had gone by and he wasn’t in his office like he usually would be.

With a punctual Unit Chief like Aaron Hotchner, it was a shock, and a little nerve-wracking that he was late.

You’d lie if you didn’t say you were getting a little worried, taking into account the last and only time he’d been late - Foyet attacking him in his own home, leaving him with long-lasting trauma, scars, and without his family.

You'd never forget that day, and every day after where he was left to suffer, laying the blame on himself. No matter how many times you said it, how many times Rossi patted him on the back, reminding him it wasn't his fault, you knew a part of him still didn't believe it.

And the part of you that cared about him, maybe a little more than you should, didn't have the heart to watch him do this to himself - the silent guilt, the long empty looks.

You’ve known him awhile, seen him through many of his ups, and just as many as his downs. You’d seen him laugh in glee and beam with happiness, you’d seen him lose it in anger and anguish and you’d seen him cry in heartbreak.

So much of your life spent beside him, so many memories linked with him, and your team. And much of it you knew was friendly love - your love for Emily and Spencer, JJ and Morgan, Penelope and Rossi. But the love you felt for him was just a tiny bit different, deeper, not the friendly kind.

You’d only recently started to understand what you were really feeling for him, as recent as the last few weeks. Still new and a little unexplainable at times, you were learning to balance that, within your friendship.

You didn’t think you wanted to pursue anything, right now. It had been a little over two years since he’d lost Haley, since he’d needed to start navigating his life as a single dad, a widower.

You could still see the pain in his eyes, fresh as the day it had happened. You knew he was managing, but it was still apparent, that it was hitting them both hard.

And Jack? He was a little ray of sunshine in the otherwise gruesome life all of you led - the same could be said about Henry. But Henry was Reid's favorite, as his godfather, you knew the bond between them was unbreakable.

But Jack? You were his favorite, and he was yours.

He was your little buddy, your partner in all things art, cartoons, and Disney shows. He was your little helper during all things baking - you'd babysat once and he'd requested chocolate chip, peanut butter cookies and you'd been more than happy to help him make them.

He was a natural baker and a little taster.

Your love for the little cutie ran as deep as your feelings for his dad.

At the end of the day though, you were a friend, a shoulder both could use to lean on and rely on. You were comfortable in your role within their little family and weren't looking to make any changes then.

9:28.

You were playing with your watch, already having decided you’d be giving him a call if he didn't arrive by 9:30.

Worry was making your hands sweat, and just as you went to wipe them on your pants, the door to the bullpen opened, and in walked a very frantic Hotch - his tie was a little crooked, shirt a little wrinkled, and Jack - a little backpack on his back, and a curious look paired with a timid smile.

Aaron's eyes searched the bullpen, as did Jack's, the little Hotchner noticing you seconds before his father did. You stood up, watching as the blond pulled away from his dad, and on a little run, made his way towards you.

“Cutiee.” He called out, using the nickname you called him, to address you too. You leaned down when he was a few steps away, accepting his hug, his little arms wrapping around your neck.

“Hi, cutie.” You greeted him, a wide smile on your face. Hotch had made his way over to you by then, giving you a barely-there smile, but his eyes shone.

“You're late.” You started, pulling to your full height.

“Yeah, Jessica was called on an emergency at the last minute, and Liah is away on a hiking trip, so here we are.” Liah was Hotch's neighbor, she looked after Jack for a few hours when Hotch couldn't stay with him, or Jess was busy.

He looked at his watch, running a hand through his hair, messing it up a little.

“I have a meeting with Strauss…well, right now. Can you please watch him until I get done?”

“Go, don't make her wait. We'll be okay and we're going to have fun. Right, Jack?” You watched him nod at both you and his dad before Hotch exhaled.

“You're a lifesaver. Be good for Y/N, okay buddy.” Another nod from Jack, and he was on his way to Strauss's office.

‘’Okay Jack, let's see if Aunt Penelope can download a few episodes of ‘The Suite Life’ for us, and then we'll go color and draw for a while. Does that sound good to you?”

“Very good. Can I also have orange juice?” He asked, taking your hand in his small, soft one, fingers wrapping around your own.

“Let's go see if we have any.” You walked towards the small communal kitchen space, checking the fridge and then you checked the pantry…and, “Bingo. Let's go see the lair.” You led him to Penelope's office.

“Knock, knock, may us mortals enter?” You joked, making your little partner giggle.

“Us?” Her voice rang from the other side of the door.

“I have sir Hotchner with me. The smaller one.”

“Hey,” Jack said in outrage

“My favorite Hotchner.” You added.

Penelope pulled the door open, beaming at both of you, before she made space for you to enter.

“Jack, my love, hi,” She raised her hand, letting him give her a high five. Even though she was affectionate, Jack wasn’t as much, especially after Haley. He only hugged a few people now - Jess, his dad, and surprisingly, you.

It really showed how comfortable he was with you.

“What brings you to my tech cave?” She asked. You raised your brows at him, prompting him to do the talking.

“Can you, please, download a few episodes of Zack and Cody for us?” His voice rang with its usual child calm and sweetness, fingers intertwined in front of him.

Penelope's smile softened even more, “Sure thing, sweetie,” Her eyes turned towards you then, “Your tablet?”

“Yes, please.” You knew it was a work tablet, but no one had to know.

“Any requests?” She asked the little guy.

“You pick.”

“Okay-dokey. Should have it in about 10 minutes, my loves.”

“Thank you, Aunt Penelope.”

“Thanks Pen.” You gave her air kisses before you led Jack out and towards his father's office.

His day had started rocky, hell, the whole night had gone that way.

Jack had woken up from a nightmare - twice at that. After the second time, he’d asked Aaron to sleep in his bed, too scared and sad to stay in his room.

He’d snoozed his alarm, just once, and had a hard time waking his son up too. He’d had 20 minutes to get himself ready, but Jessica had called 10 minutes before she was supposed to arrive - apologizing because she’d been called on an emergency at work.

Aaron had to rearrange his whole morning then, already aware he’d be late for work. He’d had to get Jack and his backpack ready and cook him breakfast. All of that, and be in the office before his 9:30 meeting with Strauss.

Breakfast and preparing Jack for a day at the BAU, he’d done successfully. Arriving on time had been a little tricky, with barely 2 minutes to spare.

But when he’d walked into the bullpen, Jack spotting you just seconds before he did, and he’d watched your smile grow, he’d known all would be okay.

Watching you with Jack always brought a warm feeling within him, like he was watching something sacred. You were always patient and kind, always interested in listening to him talk, even though he was a quiet kid, who appreciated quality time more.

You gave him that too, and a lot of it - you watched cartoons and shows with him. Colored and drew, baked cookies, and played with him whenever he wanted. Any time spent with Jack was about what he wanted, what he liked doing, and above all, making him comfortable.

Even if it meant cleaning flour off your kitchen floor and whatever had gotten in the drawers too.

He appreciated, even loved the bond you had with his son, every smile, every hug, and every minute you spend with him. He loved hearing about you from Jack - what you’d done together, what you’d told him, the stories, the jokes, the conversations.

Hearing his son proclaim you as his favorite person in the BAU had made his heart soar. Taking into account all the time you spent with him, it wasn’t really a surprise. He bonded hard, but once he did, he never went back.

He was much like Aaron himself in that regard. His trust had to be earned, as did his friendship, and it required hard work. Jack was much the same. And you’d successfully earned both of theirs with your beautiful and caring personality.

He exhaled a breath, checking his watch, step fast, and briefcase in hand.

11:18.

His meeting with Strauss had run longer than he’d anticipated - over an hour and a half. Diplomacy, politics, budgets, and cuts, they’d run through countless things, half of that meeting already fully blacked out from his memory.

He was tired - every meeting with Strauss left him drained. Worried, about Jack and his state of mind after last night. All he wanted to do was get to his office and check up on his son.

Walking into the bullpen for the second time that day, he quickly made his way towards his office, only to stop short at the window. The blinds were open, having forgotten to close them last night, so he had a clear and full view of his office.

You were sat on the couch close to the armrest, Jack cuddled against you, cheek squished against your collarbone, face almost buried in your neck.

Your work tablet sat propped on the coffee table, and your arm wrapped around his small body, keeping him close. His eyes were almost closed, your thumb running soothingly on his back.

He watched, mesmerized by the scene. He felt himself soften, all of him. His face, the furrow in his brow, and the tight set of his lips. His whole body, his heart, suddenly at peace.

For months he'd observed the kindness you showed everyone - the families of victims, heartbroken by the injustice of life. Passersby, people you might never see again. Your team, especially, your work family. Jack, and even Aaron himself.

And as he watched you with his son, the one person left in this world who truly loved him, no matter his rights or wrongs - he couldn't help but feel himself unravel.

Every little thought he'd had about you, every feeling he might have somehow suppressed in order to protect himself and his child, they all attacked him, in seconds.

Because the truth was, you earned his trust, his friendship, and somehow along the way, you'd won his heart as well.

Right at that moment, his heart pounded in need, in adoration, in pure, clear love. Love he hadn't allowed himself to feel since Haley. Love, he'd frankly hadn't felt in years, ever since he’d put his signature down on the dotted line.

He wanted to get home to see this. He wanted to see you put Jack to bed, and kiss his forehead with a whispered ‘good night’.

He wanted to stroke your cheek tenderly, pull you into a kiss that made you melt, and stroke a fire within you like no one else could.

He wanted to tell you he loved you - in the car, as he drove you to work. In the kitchen during breakfast and dinner. In his office, a few stolen moments as you worked. And under the sheets, while you made love.

And even through the fear that gripped him in a vice, of rejection, separation, and even trust - he still wanted to love you, as if he was loving someone for the first time again.

“Everything okay, Aaron?” David asked, passing on the way to his office.

Aaron barely spared him a glance, nodding his head a little, “Yeah, it's okay.”

He pushed the door to his office open and walked in, greeted by his new favorite sight, and his two favorite people.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #hotchner x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner request

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anantaru · 6 months

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⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ i like the way you kiss me, i can tell you miss me

synopsis. ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ your ex boyfriend childe recently found out that you've been seeing another guy lately. // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡

cw. jealous! childe, rough & needy, exes missing each other but not admitting it, hinted at a previous toxic relationship between you two, fem! reader ♡

"did he touch you like this?" childe mumbles against your ear as his hand slowly slid over your curves, touching your body.

the impact this brazen question had on you made your body shudder in embarrassment, not only that but you could feel your own blood being forced to frenziedly race through your shape with every new drag of his cock dashing ripples of glee into you.

he knows what he's doing, he's planned this.

the harbinger knows everything apparently, or perhaps he's actually made up an entire different story to what he thought happened on your date.

he cups your cheek and runs his thumb across your bottom lip reverently, "or was he rougher?" slower?" he taunts, and there's an instant jolt of pride up the harbinger's spine when he notices how you're embarrassingly averting his satisfied gaze.

he hasn't lost his grip on you yet, he's sure of it, and he welcomed that you're so easy to read, to the point where you'd choke on a cry consistently, more so when he rushed through that one spot he would never forget to stimulate.

"w-why does it matter?" your words come out quicker than your mind could've properly processed them as you whimper out wetly to him.

you quirk up a brow, feeling a tender hold of confidence aid your frame, "aah— it's not like we're dating anymore or anything,"

that breathy, almost belittling laugh that tumbled over your parted mouth reached his heart, fracturing his vitality.

"we're broken up, ajax, please," you shuffle your arms around his neck before abruptly pulling him towards you, so your lips could brush against his ear shell as you whisper seductively;

"i can fuck whoever i want,"

tilting his head, instead of falling for it, childe confidently cocks a brow before planting a wet kiss on your cheek, "huh? archons, what a mouth you got on yourself," as he spreads, burns and dominates your glistening walls until he's certain you're where he needed you to be— vulnerable to him, perhaps even admitting the truth and stopping your bratty mouth to spill anymore wrongs.

"come on, will you? come on," he laughs manically, his hips jerking hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs as your breasts bounce in tandem with his ruthless thrust, "don't pretend like he'll ever catch up to me, fuck— baby..." he grinds deeper, watching how a nasty ring of white covers the majority of his base.

you roll your eyes but know he's right— because no one could ever unlock the love you've had for ajax before you two had broken up. those rough hands of his were your everything, in comparison to how he used them against his enemies, towards you, he wielded them lightly.

you squeeze and squeeze him, practically telling him that yes, you've missed him so much but no, you're not willing to ever get in a relationship with him again. for that, you've put in too much work already to forget about ajax, the man you loved so unconditionally.

"doesn't matter," your voice echos like a soft whimper as you hug him, desperately wanting to feel how all his inches were painfully throbbing while squeezed by your walls, "we. don't. work." concurrently to his sultry rolls, you pant out a crushing reality.

childe didn't want to hear that, not now, not ever again.

he pushes inside and groans out hot against your ear, before forcing himself to move his hips slower, despite the expanded lust inside of him wanting to slam right into you, fuck— the harbinger was aggravated, frustrated and saddened at the same time. not because of you, yet due to the fact that primarily, it was his fault that things ended on how they did.

a candid confession should never find its way inside of a situation this unrepeatable, "i love you," he whines, his cock plunging with passion as if to emphasize his spelled out words.

your mouth opens instantly for a rebuttal as he swiftly runs a hand down your breasts, pinching your nipples, desperate to swallow up your mewls and keep them stored within him.

foreheads pressed against each other, no words said out loud.

childe regrets everything right now, because you are just his everything, his all.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin Impact smut #childe x reader #childe smut #childe x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you

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thewritetofreespeech · 4 months

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Could I request Ichigo and Grimmjow learning that their s/o managed to survive a dangerous situation without a single scratch?

Ichigo watched the great stone wall collapse under its own weight, once the beam from the Sternritter had pierced it’s hull. It would have been pretty cool, if it didn’t mean that their defenses were down and last he knew [Y/N] was standing right there!

“[Y/N]!” He called out, even though he was all the way on the other side of the battlefield.

Ichigo cut through his opponent and sprinted over to the scene where the dust was settling. Frantically scanning the rumble for some sign of his partner, but woefully optimistic in hoping he wouldn’t find anything. “Phew! That was close!”

The Shinigami turned and saw [Y/N] a few yards away from him. Unscathed, perfectly fine, and examining the rumble like him with a much less panicked look. “[Y/N]! You’re alright! How did you avoid the attack??”

“Oh. Well for one I was more over there,” they pointed towards the spot that they had moved to in the fighting, “plus once I saw the wall start to come down I shunpo-ed it out of there.”

“Shunpo….”

“Yeah, Yoruichi has been training me. She said I’ve been getting pretty good. I thought I mentioned that?”

Ichigo wasn’t sure if they had or hadn’t right now. All he knew was that he was relieved they were ok.

He came up to them and gave them a hug. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” He told them. Before he let go and they went back to the fighting.

Grimmjow howled with laughter and glee as he cut through another one of these goons. Their bodies splitting open like they were made of paper. Or one of those pinata things from the human world with how they sprayed open when broke. What a time to be alive.

At first, he thought it had to be some kind of joke. Him? Fight for the shitty Shinigami? No way!

But apparently they had lost their idiotic minds, and rolled out the red carpet for him when he came to the Seireitei door. One he was all too happy to paint even redder with blood.

He’d do this little chore for them, then finally kill Kurosaki, and go back home to Hueco Mundo with [Y/N] as champions. This was the best day of his life.

In his hacking and slashing, Grimmjow looked up when he saw one of the buildings fall. Not uncommon in a fight. He thought it was stupid to have buildings that tall anyway. He grinned as he watched on of the Shinigami monuments fall, but then panned down and saw [Y/N] standing near where the rubble would fall. “Shit! [Y/N]!”

There was nothing to be done though. He was too far away. The building was falling to fast. Then by the time be got over there all that was left was rumble and dust. Grimmjow felt his heart stop, then come back to life beating furiously as he was now going to destroy now only these Quincy but everything here for taking his [Y/N] away.

The Arrancar turned to begin his killing spree, when suddenly a large piece of the rumble was dislodged and flew through the air. It barely missed him as he watched [Y/N] climb out of the hole they created. Dusting off their outfit while muttering, “this was brand new…”

Grimmjow watched in amazement but then grinned wildly as he saw that they were ok. Of course they were ok. How stupid of him to thinking a grubby old building would take out his [Y/N].

He scooped them up with one arm to pull them close, still with that grin. “I thought I lost you there for a second.”

“Who? Me?” They asked in amusement.

Grimmjow gave them a kiss before he let go and they both went back to the fighting. His spree might be on hold, but his ‘chore’ still wasn’t done. And Kurosaki was still out there somewhere.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#bleach #bleach tybw #bleach thousand year blood war #grimmjow jeagerjaques #grimmjow x reader #bleach grimmjow #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #ichigo kurosaki #ichigo x reader #ichigo kurosaki x reader #bleach x reader #bleach scenarios #bleach imagines #scenarios #imagine

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edgeray · 1 month

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To Celebrate a Life [Arlecchino Birthday Special]

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - When I tell you that I ran to Google Docs after seeing Arlecchino's birthday art, I ran. Thank you @myfriendcallsmebun for texting me and reminding me of the birthday art. Happy birthday my beautiful husband, I'd give you the world if my heart isn't enough. Content Warnings - suggestiveness in the middle, Arlecchino-centric, 1.0k words

Arlecchino was not one to celebrate holidays, less her own birthday. As a Fatui Harbinger, every day, regardless of holiday or not, business and duty remains a constant; every morning starts the same, just as every night ends the same. Still, the holidays give the children a much-needed respite, a momentary holder of joy, a distraction from the grim world of the Fatui. As their ‘Father,’ the children's mental and emotional wellbeing are just as significant as their physical, and so, such leisures are crucial as well. While her birthday may be to celebrate ‘her,’ Arlecchino finds little value in appreciating the day she was born–if anything, it is only an excuse for another barbeque dinner.

As she works on paperwork in her office, she checks the window behind to the side. She observes that it is currently late afternoon. Strange. Usually during her birthday, the children would pass by throughout the day, leaving behind their respective gifts one at a time. Today, however, no one has entered her office at all today. Even uncannier, she's yet seen you, even though you would usually arrive unannounced at this point. Perhaps you and the children were unaware. If that is the case, then Arlecchino will not make the special occasion apparent, not when there is no need. After all, there is little to celebrate for her life.

It is a shame that the steak will become a waste.

She picks back up the pen. Some time passes before there's finally a knock on the door.

“Arlecchino? Can I come in?” Your familiar voice sounds through the door.

“Yes, come in, love,” she replies, lifting her head up to face you. You enter, an evident glee on your face as you stroll around her desk and reach her. Arlecchino swivels in her chair towards you, and you don't hesitate to perch yourself on her lap.

“I've missed my husband,” you murmured, planting your face in between her neck and shoulder, inhaling her cologne.

“I've been here for the majority of the day. Did you go out?” Arlecchino questions, pressing a kiss against the shell of your ear and wrapping an arm around your back.

“I did. I went out for some… errands,” you say, and immediately, Arlecchino raises an eyebrow. You aren't one to hand out vague responses, so suspicions begin to develop within the Harbinger. Nonetheless, she states nothing, only prioritizing her indulgence in your presence.

“Speaking of which…” You pull your head away from her body, gazing up at her with pleading eyes–eyes more demanding than any gaze from an Archon. “Can you help me with the bags?”

“Darling, how much did you spend?” The Harbinger inquires, placing a hand on your hips to lift you off of her lap. “The children couldn't help you?”

“I can't have the children looking inside,” you give her a cheeky smile with a twinkle of mischief in your eyes and Arlecchino huffs, pinching your cheek as she rises from her chair.

“Does our collection not satisfy you enough, you insatiable thing?” Arlecchino follows you towards the door.

“Nothing with you will ever satisfy me,” you smirk.

As you lead her out the room, Arlecchino is suddenly greeted with the mass of her children, all adorning cheerful expressions. In front of her, Freminet, Lyney, and Lynette present her with a cake, while the other children hold cupcakes and wrapped boxes. As the Harbinger observes more, the cupcakes aren't uniform–amateurly designed as if the children had made them themselves.

“Happy Birthday, Father!” The children exclaim out in unison. Arlecchino blinks and remains still for half a second, before turning to you.

“This was what you were busy with?” She says levely, but you can tell there is a bit of a smile present in her inquiry. You nod vigorously, guiding her by the hand towards the cake.

“Yes. Did you think we would forget?” You respond back with a chuckle, stroking over the back of her hand with your thumb gingerly. “I would never forget anything related to you.”

If Arlecchino was any less emotionally repressed, she would flush, or even admit that she was touched by the clear display of effort from you and the children. It couldn't be easy coordinating this.

“We've prepared your favorite foods in the kitchen already, and set up the barbeque and yard for you, Father,” Lyney states. “We hope it's not too late for you to start.”

Arlecchino shakes her head. Nothing sounds more excellent than a barbeque right now. “No it is not. Children, let us go to the yard. We can enjoy the food and gifts there.”

The children are quick to scamper out, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet following after them to make sure that no one runs, leaving the Harbinger and you behind in the hall. She turns to you, leaning in and pressing her lips against the top of your head.

“Were you deceiving me earlier about your ‘groceries?’”

“No, I wouldn't want to rile you up with a lie,” you hum. “Maybe later tonight, you'll be able to open my ‘personal’ presents.”

“I look forward to them,” Arlecchino remarks with a wolfish grin, before raising your hand in hers and kissing against your knuckles. Her eyes soften as your gazes meet one another.

“The children worked really hard.”

“I’m sure they did. Their efforts are… stirring.” Arlecchino finds it hard to deny the lightness in her chest, the abnormal warmth throughout her body that wasn't the bloodfire in her veins.

“Happy birthday, Peruere,” you say sincerely, your voice resounding with gentle fondness. “I really… I can’t imagine myself without you. I’m really happy I’m with you. I want you to know how much you mean to me… and the children.”

You raise your free hand to her cheek, grazing your thumb over her skin as you move a strand of hair away from her face. “I am so thankful for your life. I love you.”

Arlecchino closes her eyes and leans in, pressing her forehead against yours, a subtle smile on her lips.

Maybe her life is worth celebrating–you and her children are what make it worth celebrating.

#arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fics #genshin fanfics #genshin fics

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toomuchracket · 2 months

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pool party (d word matty x reader fluff/smut)

day 21 of summer75, and today we have a fun little look at the reality of these fuckers' relationship before anybody knew they were a thing (aka, the one where they're both horny but can't fuck without being suspicious or caught). enjoy <3

you: do u like black or lilac better

matty 😚: in what context?

you roll your eyes, quickly firing back a reply. just pick a colour, babe

matty 😚: lilac

you: thank u <3 i'll meet you all in a min

matty 😚: hurry up please i miss u

you: will do, lover

chucking your phone into your beach bag, you giggle to yourself as you slip into a lilac bikini and sandals. there's a fading hickey the same colour as your swimsuit just under your jaw, you notice as you fix your hair in the mirror, but you don't bother trying to cover it up - hopefully, in wearing your secret boyfriend's favourite colour to a pool party where he cannot touch you at all, you’ll get more of them later.

judging by matty’s expression when you waltz out of the villa to the pool a few minutes later, more marks are a certainty tonight. you spot him as soon as you step outside, lazing insouciantly on a sunlounger, hair dripping wet and body shimmering in the sunshine, and for the briefest of moments you feel truly distraught that you can't just go and drape yourself over him, let his hand find its way to your arse as it does whenever you cuddle up to him. but the feeling passes in favour of exhilarated glee when you notice his jaw drop at the sight of you, a feeling that grows when he slides his sunglasses up to let his eyes trail better over your body. you wink at him, and he smirks, putting his glasses back on when your attention is taken by john asking if you want a drink, to which you eagerly respond in the affirmative.

all in all, you don't actually end up anywhere near matty for about an hour, preoccupied with chatting to your friends, taking pictures with the girls, eating your way through the massive fruit salad adam decided to make “so nobody gets too pissed because they haven't eaten anything”; only after that do you strategically go to sit on the edge of the pool near where your boyfriend and george are splashing each other and laughing like kids, dangling your legs in the warm water while you light up a cigarette and sip at your pornstar martini.

as soon as you exhale your first drag, george seems to materialise in the water front of you, matty trailing behind him (and looking at you like you're a three course meal). “my good friend,” he begins, all gravel drawl and grin. “might i perhaps have one of those cigarettes, please?”

“christ, you're like a bloodhound. here,” you pull the pack and lighter from your bag, setting them down beside you. as george pulls himself out of the pool to sit next to you and light up, you turn to your boyfriend. “you having one?”

matty shakes his head, eyes never leaving your body. “s'not what i want right now, darling.”

“no? alright,” you take another drag, spreading your legs slightly to give him a better look at what he does want while you sip your drink. “want a taste?”

his eyes widen, flicking up to yours in disbelief. “hmm?”

you wave your glass at him, face as saccharine as your cocktail. “of the drink.”

“oh, i- no, thank you,” matty shakes his head. “sorry. blanked for a second there.”

george scoffs. “matty, you fucking perv, she didn't mean it like that,” he turns to you while matty splutters out a response of some kind. “sorry about him, mate. doesn't know how to act around attractive women anymore cos he hasn't gotten any in so long,” he laughs, smirking when he notices the mark on your neck. “but apparently you have! good for you. i trust it was decent?”

you're acutely aware of matty, completely still in the water while he waits for you to answer - you smirk, deciding to fuck with him a little. “well, to be honest, george,” you stub out your cigarette, pausing dramatically. “it was mid.”

matty snorts, squinting at you - disbelieving, but to anyone else it would look like he's just affected by the sun - while george cackles. “was it anyone we know?”

“well, a lady never tells,” you smile, turning to your boyfriend. “matty, if i get in the pool, will you carry me? don't wanna get my hair wet.”

he rolls his eyes. “you're such a princess. get in here.”

giggling at the nickname, you down the rest of your drink. “bye, george. don't smoke all my fags!”

“i won't!”

“you better not! right,” you slide into the water, wrapping your limbs around matty and beaming when he grabs your arse and starts to walk towards the centre of the pool. “hiya.”

“afternoon. you comfy?”

“yeah… wait, just let me,” you wriggle around a little in his grasp, accidentally-on-purpose pushing your boobs into his face for a second before looking at him with a shit-eating grin. “oopsies.”

“you're lucky i can't spank you underwater, you know,” matty smirks, walking the two of you further from the rest of your friends. “for that, and for that fucking mid comment earlier. mid? me making you squirt on my dick was mid?”

you whimper at the memory, clit tingling as you recall the five consecutive orgasms you made it through, before it all got too much to bear and you soaked your boyfriend, much to his delight. “no, daddy, m'sorry,” you tuck your face into his neck, softly kissing it. “was a bad joke. loved it, really,” you move to whisper in his ear. “love you.”

matty's whole demeanour changes - he softens, attitude melting away to reveal the sweetheart you know and love so much. “s'alright, princess, i love you too,” he turns to kiss your head before pulling back to smile at you. “my beautiful girl, in my favourite colour. that was sweet of you to ask, baby.”

“just wanted to turn you on, really.”

he laughs. “well, you've done that, sweetheart,” he pulls your bottom half closer into his. “feel how fucking hard you've got me?”

“yeah,” you breathe. “shit, i wish you could fuck me right now.”

“same,” he rests his head on your shoulder. “d'you think we're being too obvious, by the way? like… you clinging to me?”

“every single person here saw you do a tequila shot from between my tits a month before we were even together, so…” you giggle, hugging him tighter when he laughs too. “i think we're good.”

“s'pose,” matty turns his head towards the rest of your friends, where ross is yelling something about ordering dinner. he sighs. “we'd better go and see them, yeah?”

“might as well,” you reply glumly, sighing dramatically as matty carries you through the water. “guess i'll just have to have sex with you in a pool some other time.”

“oh, believe me, darling, i'll do everything i can to make that happen,” he kisses your head, the final brush of his lips on your skin before you run the risk of being caught. “tonight, though, i do have that massive bath in my room, if you like…”

“absolutely. i'll be there at eight.”

“looking forward to it, princess.”

#summer75 #mads muses #mads does writing #d word matty #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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ghostskiss · 1 year

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Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader WC: so many omg (9.2k) Summary: On a pranking war, you end up taking something from Ghost to get back at him. He’s bound to get back at you. Warnings: 18+ Enemies to lovers, Voyeurism, Stalking (? Kinda.), Teasing, PIV, Oral (AFAB receiving), Dub-con elements (I think? Just tagging that in case. Reader wants him but isn’t letting him know it), Spit, Biting, A bit of blood, Hate Sex, Edging, Overstimulation, Creampie, Condescending!Simon, He’s kinda mean in this Sorry (heheh)

Irritation is settling into your bones. Maybe even your hair follicles. The pores in your skin. Your entire soul. The point is, you’re irritated. Pretty soon, you’re going to be pissed.

Stomping through the building to the mess hall, you fume. You’re thinking of all the ways you can get back at him. This has been going on for weeks. Months, actually. You’re ready to throw your towel in. Wave around a white flag. You don’t care how smug the bastard is going to be. You don’t care if he gives you that knowing smirk under his mask, unable to see it, but still somehow knowing he’s laughing at you anyways. Hands clenching at your sides, you swing the door open. Soap flinches, seated at the table, his eyes shooting to you. Surprise plasters on his face.

“Uh-oh. Incoming.” Soap starts, his gaze going from your storming form to his friend, Ghost. The pair are enjoying their dinner it seems.

“Riley.” You grind out, coming to a hot stop behind him. Weirdly, he had his back to the door.

He doesn’t even bother to turn.

“Yes, dear?”

Soap tries to hold a laugh back, coughing. “Shit, what’d you two get into now?”

It’s not unknown to the rest of the 141. The thing you and Ghost have, the going back and forth, the endless pranks on each other. It started as an accident, your accident. Sometimes at night when you’re lying in your bed, you stare at the ceiling, wondering what would have become of the two of you if you hadn’t done what you had. It was an accident; you even apologized to him! Multiple times. He still would not let it go. He got back at you. And then you got back at him for thinking he could get back at you. The cycle continued. Still does, to this day. All because you’d accidentally -accidentally- switched out his shampoo for yours. Something so stupid and trivial snow balled into…into this!

Your hand opens over the table, the item falling to the middle of it. You should’ve dropped it into his food. Soap looks down, shock spreading across his face before he sputters with laughter. It makes you angrier. It’d be fine if Soap was laughing at something you did to Ghost, but when it’s turned around, it makes you want to kill the both of them.

A small black plastic spider sits in the center of the table. It looks ridiculous now, under the lights of the mess hall, but it was scarier in your dark room, sitting right on top of your pillow.

Ghost lets out an unimpressed snort, “The hell is that?”

“What do you mean, ‘the hell is that?’ It didn’t crawl into my bed by itself, Ghost!” You shrill out, ready to punch him in the head, really. You never should have told anyone about your fear of spiders. It’d been another accident; this time alcohol had loosened your lips. You never thought it’d be used against you like this.

Soap slaps a hand to his mouth, trying to contain his glee. It looks like he kicks Ghost under the table. “You put that in the lass’s bed? You’re cruel, Lt.”

The man gives a noncommittal shrug and finally looks at you from over his shoulder. His mask is pulled up enough to eat. It’s normal for him to be comfortable enough to expose that much of his face in front of Soap, but the rest of the team? Forget it. He seems to notice his mistake, pulling his mask back into place. You don’t miss the curve of his smile before he does. It sends a shock down your spine, and you feel yourself falter a bit before fixing your scowl.

“You scared of a little toy? Explain to me how you’re on the team, again?” He stands, apparently done with his dinner. You have to move back to give him space, and of course, he doesn’t ask you to move. You do it anyways, pissed that he knows you’ll move to accommodate him.

You cross your arms over your chest as he pushes past you, tossing his food in the bin. He leaves the mess hall like you’re not throwing daggers at his back. Huffing, you turn back to Soap, who’s playing with the tiny plastic legs on the toy spider. Pointing the toy at you, he chuckles, shaking his head like he can’t believe it.

Sighing, you sit down, anger almost disappearing now that the idiot who caused it is gone. You snatch a bread roll off Soap’s plate, sinking your teeth down into it.

“Gotta give it to him. Where the hell do you think he found this?” He flicks the toy to the table, not bothered that you’re eating his bread.

You shrug and swallow the piece before answering, “Who knows.” Your gaze is fixed to the toy, and then a thrill runs through you. A smile crawls to your lips as you fixate on it.

“Christ, lass, you look absolutely evil.”

Standing abruptly, you push yourself away from the table. Soap calls out to you, and you ignore him. You’re on a mission now. Your feet take you through the building to the sleeping quarters. You mentally check the time. Ghost was just eating dinner. Next, he’ll be in the showers. Without fail, you can count on the routine your lieutenant keeps. It’s not like you’re paying that much attention. Everyone knows, so that they can steer clear of him. The time he eats dinner, the time he heads to the showers, the time he cleans his guns in the weaponry room. He’s very vocal on the times he needs to be left alone. Soon, he’ll be bedded down for the night. You need to utilize the time that he’s in the showers.

You’re standing outside his quarters, staring down the closed door. A nervous chill hits you. It feels violating, this plan that you’re scheming. To even be going into his quarters. Anger comes to you now. He crossed that line with you, remember? He went into your room, somewhere in between the time you’d got back from your operation with Gaz and the time it took you to get ready for bed. You’re just playing the game he started, as always. Steeling your nerves, you push the door open. Of course, it wasn’t locked. The audacity someone had to have to sneak into Ghost’s room. He’s cocky enough to think no one would.

As the door creeps open, you slip in the dark room, shutting the door as carefully as you’d open it. The dark’s adjusting to your eyes as you lean up against the door. Taking a deep breath, you regret it instantly. It smells so much like him. You step forwards into the room, captivated. You can see a bit, but you don’t want to risk turning on the light. Pulling your phone out, you activate the flashlight on. It luminates the room as much as it can, and you suck in another breath. There’s nothing personal in here. It looks barely lived in. You at least have some things in your room, books, pictures. The only reason you know it’s his room is the singular knife on his desk. That’s what you’ve come for. Not wanting to test your luck, you shoot your hand out and grab it, leaving his room.

You’re pacing quickly down the hall, passing the corridor that leads to the showers. Your walk slows to a crawl as you listen intently, ears straining to pick up anything they can. The showers are still running, good. It gives you a bit of relief, and you continue on your mission. Hiding the knife in your room is not going to work, that’d be the first place he’d look. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you look down at the object in your hand. It’s a simple pocketknife, small and black. You have no idea why he’s so fond of it. In meetings, it’s the thing he toys with, flicking it back and forth in his gloved hands, opening and closing, running a gloved finger on the edge it. It irritates you because it’s distracting, always. Price never calls him out on it either, letting him fidget with it like he’s a kid that can’t sit still. Your thumb catches on the hidden blade, popping open with a satisfying click. There’s an old engravement on the blade and you squint, trying to read it. No use. It’s obvious the blade has been used and worn over with how ever long he’s had it, years you’re guessing.

Shutting it, you ignore the wiggle of uncertainty in the back of your mind. Of course, it means something to him. That’s why you’re taking it. It’s a line the two of you have yet to cross, but you’re still pissed about the toy spider. If he’d heard the shrill of fear you’d let out, you would be more eager to do this. It was humiliating, how scared you were, only to realize the thing hadn’t moved an inch as you clutched your hand to your heart, pressed up against the door like it’d jump and attack you. The courage it took to step near it, to touch it with a pen you’d grabbed from your desk.

The memory makes you grit your teeth. You hate him. It was one thing to prank each other, it was another to come into your room and deliver your worst fear, plastic toy or not. Your hand clenches around the knife handle and you close it with determination. Fuck him. You head to the locker rooms. You have a locker, just as everyone else. You hardly use it, however, as you have too much trust in your team to ever put anything in there. Thinking back to the combination of the lock, you put it in wrong several times before getting right. Opening the empty locker, you place the knife down and shut it, spinning the lock, and checking to see if it’s locked. A tension filled sigh leaves you. For now. The tension will be back tomorrow, when he finds out his knife has gone missing, you’re sure. You’ll need to practice your poker face.

Heading back to your room, you settle down for the night. Of course, you check for any strategically placed toy spiders. When you find none, you climb slowly into bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was in here. He placed the toy on your bed. You wonder what he thought of your small space, your things. If his hand trailed on your covers before he left.

***

“No. There isn’t enough time, you’ll go out to this building,” the eraser of the pencil in your hand presses against a point on the map, “and you’ll move to the roof. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Lass—” Soap starts, and you cut him off with a mere hard look.

The two of you have been here in the mess hall for too long, arguing with half eaten bagels and coffee that’s getting cold. Going back and forth isn’t something you really do with Soap, it’s Ghost. But he’s got something up his ass about this op. The extraction is supposed to happen at a different point, he’s supposed to take the package and head to the roof of a building in the opposite direction going in. He doesn’t agree with splitting up in enemy territory, neither do you, but it’s how it has to go down. Only the two of you are assigned to this job.

“Don’t start, seriously.”

“Why don’t we get more people on this?”

“You know why, Soap. Everyone has a job to do, this is ours. I’m not about to ask Price to stretch his crew thin when it already is.”

“I know exactly who to ask. I bet if I tell Lt, he’ll do it, no questions asked.”

You roll your eyes and huff, settling back into your chair. It’s been two days since you’d stolen his knife, and he’s still livid. No one knows exactly why, he wouldn’t say what’d happened, but you knew the moment he walked into the meeting two days ago. You knew he knew that you knew why he was uptight. Not that you told him. You denied knowing anything on why he’s in a piss poor mood, even when your mates pulled you aside to ask what you did. You could’ve boasted, told everyone you finally got a one-up on him. But you liked knowing that you got so deep under his skin that he wouldn’t even ask anyone where his knife went. Wouldn’t even confront you. That should scare you, you know, but you’re high on the achievement.

Soap scrunches his nose, “Well, maybe not. You’re on his shitlist, y’know.”

“Whatever. I’m on his, he’s on mine. That doesn’t matter because he’s busy. Everyone is busy, just do your job.” You take a sip of your cold coffee, pulling a face from the temperature.

“No, I mean, you’re really on his shitlist now. He told me his knife is missing. And I saw that devious smile on your face before it disappeared. Do you even know about that thing? He’s had it since he was kid.”

You shrug, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You push away from the table, grabbing your paperwork and mug full of forgotten coffee. Making your way to the kitchen, you dump the remains of your mug into the sink, rinsing it out and washing it thoroughly. The door behind you kicks up, and you sigh.

“Seriously, if you’re going to start up again, let me remind you—” you start, turning towards who you presume is Soap.

The words die in your throat, your mouth a little open in shock. Luckily, your paperwork is on the counter, you would have dropped it otherwise. Ghost stands before you, head tilting in mock question.

“Remind me what?” His gruff voice comes out.

The air is tense, heavy with danger. You’ve been on Ghost’s bad side before. Or so you thought. Nothing can compare to what you’re feeling now, locked the kitchen with the presence of a man who is pissed. You successfully avoided him for two days, until now. Your throat dries and you swallow, the movement caught by him, his eyes dipping to your throat. He takes a daunting step forward, causing you to take one back, pressing into the sink behind you. Shit. Is this how his true enemies feel? A bead of sweat drips down your spine, your heart beating quickly under your breastbone. Dark eyes of his are latched onto yours as he moves closer, caging you in. He isn’t touching you, but you can feel the heat coming off his body in waves. Angry heat. You start to feel panicky. This isn’t the first time he’s cornered you, or tried to use his presence to make you feel uneasy. You used to pride yourself on how well you could handle the pressure from him, that you were never scared of him. This is…different. This has weight, it has fear.

“Where is it?”

His voice hits you like whiplash, your gaze shooting up to his. He simply whispered the question, anger nowhere to be heard in his tone. It makes you feel queasy. Your eyes are searching him, trying to figure out what has got him so calm, if it’s a trick. His posture says anything but. Ghost has never been able to hide anger from his tone, so how is he doing it now? He’s just watching you as you scramble for an answer, patient when he should be anything but.

“Where is what?” You counter, tone steady. You’re clinging onto the training you have to mask your nerves. Maybe he’s doing the same.

Ghost leans forward, face coming close to yours. Christ. You felt panic before, now it’s true fear. His hand comes up and you tense, ready for him to grab you, lash out at you, something. He’s moving slow, like he enjoys seeing the fear rush through you, as you press painfully into the edge of the sink behind you. He likes seeing you squirm as you try to guess what he’s doing, why he’s doing it. His hand reaches up behind you, his body pressed close to yours, eyes never leaving your face. The hand shuts the sink off behind you, the water that’d been running stops with a trickle. He steps back, like the proximity never happened.

“Well, I guess you don’t know. G’luck on your op tonight.” Ghost says, almost cheerfully, turning away and leaving the kitchen.

You blink.

Even without his presence, your heart rate doesn’t understand the danger is gone. A breath shakily leaves you as you slump against the counter. God, he was so close. He’s never been that close to you before. He’s tried to intimidate you before, sure. Chewing on your bottom lip, you think about the knife in the locker. Should you put it back? Could you sneak it back into his room without getting caught? It feels too serious, it feels like you really crossed a line here. Fuck. Then he’d know it was you, probably already does, who else would steal his things? He more than likely has already hatched a plan to get you back. There’s no point in giving it back now.

Good luck on your op tonight.

“Shit.” You mutter, his voice ringing through your mind. He’s never said that before. Praises and encouragement aren’t just given to you by him. It hardens your resolve. Grabbing your paperwork you leave the kitchen, straight to Price’s office.

Lifting a hand, you knock on the closed door in front of you. Your captain’s voice calls an affirmative to come in. You walk into the dimly lit office. Price is sitting at his desk, lazily reading some paperwork.

“Go on.” He says. Christ, what are you doing here? This is cowardice. This is the lowest Ghost has ever made you go.

“I need more time on the op Soap and I are on. We need more people. It’s insanity to have just the two of us. Soap agrees.” This isn’t a lie. None of it’s a lie, why does it feel like you’re lying to your Captain?

Price’s gaze leaves the paperwork, and he apprehends you silently. He looks surprised, leaning back into his desk chair. “You’ve never asked this before. Must be serious.”

You nod silently. What he doesn’t know is the suspicion you have about Ghost sabotaging the operation. To get back at you. It’s something you hope he hasn’t done, but why would he say that to you? Good luck.

Price lets out a sigh, “This is going to push us back. But fine. If you and Soap think it’s right. I pride myself on listening to my team. Safety first. Keep the paperwork, I’ll work it out. Tomorrow then.”

His tone is dismissive, so you salute before you turn and leave. Fuck, fuck. What is wrong with you? You’re marching down the halls to your room, ready to just mindlessly lay in bed. You have to give Ghost back his knife. This is dangerous, it has the taste of blood in your mouth. He wouldn’t really sabotage your op, right? Right? Whatever the case, you stopped the operation for a night, at least.

Flinging the paperwork haphazardly onto your desk, you sigh out, taking off your attire. If you aren’t doing the op tonight, you’re going to hole yourself in your room and think about what to do. Maybe you’ll give Ghost his knife back tonight, and finally, once and for all call a truce. It’s gone on long enough, hasn’t it? You hate to be the one to give in first, but this is serious. It was only a matter of time until it got out of hand, until one of you decided to mess with the other deeply. You always kind of thought Ghost would be the one to cross the line first, but it seems like you have. Exhaustion falls around you, seeping into your bones. You shrug your pants off and get into something comfier, a large t-shirt you like to sleep in. A nap is calling your name. You’ll deal with consequences of whatever later.

***

It’s dark when you startle awake in your bed. You’re groggy, the blankets around you are twisted at the end of your feet, like you kicked them off during your sleep. Your shirt is pulled up, exposing your bare abdomen and underwear. A groan rushes out of you when you pop yourself up to your elbows, blinking slowly. The nap had hit you hard, you feel out of sorts. Your senses are coming back to your body at a snail pace. You lift yourself up into a sitting position, flinging your legs over the edge of the bed and you fix your shirt back down. Damn, that was…that was a good nap.

Something barely moves in the corner of your eye. You freeze. It came from the small chair in the hidden corner of your room, the one you move to your desk when you need it. When you don’t, it’s where you pile your laundry before you can get around to fold it. Was that good nap making you hallucinate? Are you still dreaming? You swear it’s just your pile of clothes.

Doesn’t matter. You’re scared. You keep frozen in time like you hadn’t seen the movement, left hand inching under your pillow to find your pocketknife. It was hidden there for times like these, times when you felt nervous in your own room. Your hand brushes against nothing, the movement in the corner of your eye starting again. Heartrate spiking, you drop pretenses and brush your hand under your pillow wildly. The pile of clothes at the chair is starting to look like a body. A man.

“Looking for something?”

Shock hits you so hard you flinch, like it was a physical hit. Fuck.

“Eye for an eye, right? Isn’t that how this whole thing started?” Ghost’s low voice crawls over your body. Goosebumps run across your skin.

“Ghost, what the fuck. You scared me.” You breathe out, a bit relieved it was just him. The turning feelings from fear to relief to anger rushes over your mind. Jumping up from the bed, you face him, able to barely see him in the dark of your room.

“What the fuck!” You whisper-shout at him, “What are you doing in here?”

Not the right thing to say, you guess. He stands to his full height, yet again moving you with the mere presence of himself. He’s daunting, towering over you in the dark. You can just see the outline of him, his stature. He looks bigger in the dark like this, in the shadows. Anger is steeling your nerves.

“You were watching me sleep?” You’re still whispering, incredulous. “Wait until the team finds out what a fucking pervert you are!”

A dry chuckle comes from him, humorless. “You’ve no fucking idea.”

You don’t have the time to process what he just said, as he suddenly shoots a hand forward, gripping your jaw. Your hands cling to his forearm, clawing at him. His hands are bare and so are his arms. Shit. This shouldn’t be making you feel hot. Were you still dreaming? He’s pressing into you, making you stumble backwards until the back of your legs hit your bed. He shoves you not too kindly at all. You can see him a bit better now that he’s closer, your eyes now adjusted to the dim light. A scowl moves on your face as you lay back on your hands to glare up at him.

“What. Are you. Doing.” You hiss out at him, pissed. He thinks he can come into your room and just bully you like this? Man handle you as he pleases?

Ghost tosses your pocketknife onto your bed. You get the memo.

“Fucker. I’m going to give it back to you, okay? You didn’t have to go this far. Sabotage my op or creep into my room and piss me off to high hell. Christ, even I wouldn’t do this.”

“Oh, but you did. You creeped into my room.” Is his response. Oh, so he did sabotage your op. He didn’t deny or confirm it. No answer is an answer. Hot anger flares inside you.

You scramble up your bed, going to your knees to get somewhat more of a height than laying down. “Motherfucker, you did that first! You placed that spider on my bed! A spider, Riley!” You jab a finger into his chest, feeling the hot and hard muscle there.

“Yeah? And who started this whole thing, huh?” He asks in his timbre of a voice, the sound doing something devious to you right now. He snatches your hand that was jabbing him, gripping it with his own. You gasp lowly at the feel of his skin on yours. What the hell? You’re supposed to be mad at him. Focus.

“I told you it was an accident! How many times do I have to say, huh? When are you ever going to get it through your thick fucking skull that I didn’t mean to switch my shampoo for yours? It’s not like it made you bald!” You don’t know that - you’re sure it didn’t, but you have no idea what his hair even looks like under his mask.

“You have no idea what it made me.” Ghost growls out lowly, jerking you a bit closer to him with the hand he’s captured. Your free hand hits his shoulder in attempt to get him to let go.

“Tell me then. Tell me what was so bad about using my shampoo one time that you just had to go out of your way to make my life miserable. Tell me.”

The two of you are practically panting. You’re vibrating with anger and…need. The tension between you is crackling, the energy in the room is suffocating. You’re too close to him, dangerously thinking about things you shouldn’t be. Especially about him. Your hand is still caught in his, your other clutching his shirt over his shoulder. When did you do that? You watch him tilt closer, dark eyes on yours.

“It made me hard.”

The reaction you give him isn’t something you expect. It sobers you. It pulls you out of whatever trance he has you in. This isn’t…fuck, this isn’t how you’re supposed to feel towards him. His words shouldn’t affect you like this. It shouldn’t make your core clench, it shouldn’t make you feel slick between your thighs, it shouldn’t make you so aware of how easy it would be right now to lift up his mask and kiss him. It makes you struggle in his hold, trying to get away from him. This can’t happen. You’re supposed to hate him.

Ghost grabs your other hand, keeping you still, gripping both of them in his own, against his chest. You’re squirming and he tugs you forward again to whisper in your ear, mask brushing against your sensitive and on fire skin.

“When I opened the shampoo bottle and, fuck. And smelled you? It made me so fucking hard I had to jerk myself off. It made me so mad that you did that to me. Made my cock ache and pulse. I wanted to find you and fuck you until you couldn’t walk.”

A whimper escapes you as you think about it, Ghost in the shower, naked and soaked with running water down his broad back. Cock in one hand, shampoo in the other. It’s perverted, it’s wrong, but God, it makes you hot. Your thighs clench together to relieve your ache. You try moving again but he isn’t letting you escape him. Not now.

“Wanna know something? I’m not even mad you stole my knife. I’m mad you went into my room. I could fucking smell that shampoo of yours even after you left. I can smell it now.” For emphasis he inhales deeply, a groan coming from deep in his chest that vibrates your hands that are pressed there.

“You’re crazy.” You hiss out lowly to him, tugging against his grip.

“Mm. Maybe. Wanna know something else?” He asks, his tone a bit teasing and he tips his head back a little to watch your reactions. It’s cute, watching you act like this isn’t getting you off.

“W-what?” You squeak, watching him as closely as he’s watching you.

“I’m hard right now. Have been since I snuck in here. Watching you squirm in your sleep, like you knew I was watching, begging me to touch you. You kicked off your covers right after I got in here. Like you were already getting hot for me.”

You shake your head, trying to get his words out of your brain. “No, I wasn’t. It was – it is hot in here.” Deny deny deny. That’s the only way you’ll get out of this. Maybe this is his payback, getting you hot and bothered only to leave you high and dry.

“Really?” His gaze dips down to the front of your shirt. “If it’s so hot, why are your nipples hard like you’re cold? You cold, baby? Or is it something else?”

He’s mocking you.

You grit your teeth in annoyance. “Fuck you. This is messed up, even for you. Is this you getting back at me? You win, okay. I’m done. Good job. Now get out.”

Ghost tilts his head, like he’s studying you in question. You hold his gaze in defiance, not letting him win the staring game at least. He breaks the hold he has on your hands but doesn’t move away from you. He tilts his chin downward as he looks at you through his lashes.

“I’m not joking. This isn’t me trying to get back at you. I’m telling you. I’m telling you that I’ve been obsessed with you ever since Price brought you in. That it makes me so angry and hot that a stupid little girl like you can debase me into this.”

A slap rings into the small space. The noise comes before you even register that you hit him, his masked face turned with the movement. A pained and pleasured noise comes from him before he looks back at you, something in his eyes ablaze.

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too, baby.”

When he says that, nothing holds you back anymore, your hand shooting out to grip the hard length in his pants. He chokes like he wasn’t expecting that, his head dropping to watch you palm him through his jeans. You’re not gentle, and you think he likes that. Likes that you’re touching him with angry abandon.

“Fuck, you really are hard.” You breathe out in wonder, squeezing him and rubbing him roughly. His hips buck into your hand. Your clit throbs painfully and you catch a noise in your throat.

“Gonna let me touch you now?” He asks letting out another pained noise. You nod in response, not bothering to voice it out. His hands waste no time in grabbing the front of your shirt. He isn’t taking it off, just lifting it up to see what’s underneath. He lets out a low curse, balling up the material at your neck with one hand. His fingers swipe across a nipple gently before he’s palming the weight of your breast in his hand, fingers spreading to catch all of you before squeezing hard. It makes you gasp and in response you meanly squeeze his cock back. A chuckle leaves him and he eases the hold he has on you.

He rolls a nipple through his fingers, plucking and pulling. His movements pull a low moan out of you, and he seems pleased, continuing the action. Impatiently, he tugs your shirt up and over you, leaving you just in your panties. Your hands don’t leave from him, feeling it throb under your fingers when he sits back to stare at you. Once he’s got his fill of looking, his rough and calloused hands trail up your sides, petting you heavily in anyway he can. Your head tilts a bit as he feels you up.

“You like me manhandling you, huh? Dirty girl.”

You glare up at him, letting go of his length in response. He doesn’t care, tipping you to lay on your back. The bed beneath you dips to catch your weight. Ghost’s hands trail over your thighs, up and down, catching on the waistband of your underwear. He pulls them down and you help him, glad he doesn’t comment on how your hips push up to help him slip them down. He’s taking you in again, looking up as long as he pleases, his hands trailing anywhere there’s skin. It’s overstimulating having his heavy hands paw at you. He’s hooking his hands under your knees, pushing your legs up and open, spreading you. A sharp breath intakes. Your slick is pooling, leaking, making you and the sheets messy.

“Ask me to eat you out.” He growls lowly, staring at your exposed cunt.

Your brow furrows, irritation coming to you in the fog of your arousal. “No.”

“No?” He counters, like he’s not surprised. He’s dropping to his knees, his hands still keeping your thighs spread. The angle from the bed and him on his knees is the perfect height, lining him up right to your spread cunt. He tugs his mask up, exposing the lower half of his face. You feel your pussy clench around nothing at the sight. Shit. He hovers over your pussy, attention unwavering. He spits on your aching clit. Shit. You might just ask.

“Look at you. You liked that. Don’t think I didn’t see that.” He spits on your sex again and you moan at the feeling of it. It shouldn’t be this hot to have him spit on you. His mouth opens, tongue dipping out, drool leaking from him onto your pussy.

“C’mon. C’mon. Ask. Look, I’m drooling for it baby. Don’t you want me to eat you out?” He laughs down at you, his breath and drool dripping onto your aching already sopping cunt. Your hips tilt up to try and catch his mouth. He keeps the distance between your clit and his mouth, tongue still spilling all over you.

Letting out a frustrated noise, you meekly ask, “Can you?”

“Can I what? Huh?” The tip of his tongue barely brushes against your clit and your hips flinch with the brief contact, grinding against nothing.

“Can you eat me out.” You grind out, hands ready to grab his head and shove him into your needy cunt.

He tsks, “What’s the magic word? Ask nicely.” He brushes against your clit again as he speaks. You let out a noise close to agony.

“Please, Riley. Please eat me out. Can you, please?” It’s desperate, the way you ask, your hands clenching the bed sheets beneath you. You don’t care how it sounds, how fucked out you sound, whiny and needy.

“Good girl.” He breathes out, tongue sliding into your slick from the bottom to the top. His tongue dips into your fluttering entrance up to your throbbing clit. He’s taking his time tasting you, making you grind against his face. “That’s it,” he groans against your cunt, the words vibrating through you, “grind that pussy on my face.”

You cry out, hands now clinging to his head, nails digging into his mask. You hope you’re hurting him somehow through the fabric. You’re pissed he’s making you feel this good, how good it feels to grind your sopping cunt on his tongue, lips, and chin. His hands are holding you down, letting you grind but not letting you squirm away from his mouth. Fuck, he’s going to make you cum, the way he’s devouring your pussy. Your hips tilt up and down, stuttering in the movements, your panting getting choppier, legs shaking. You feel him groan against you, knowing how close you are, continuing with his sucking, licking, tasting. He’s slurping up your pussy, latching onto your clit painfully as you cry out, back arching up as your cunt contracts painfully around nothing. Ghost doesn’t stop, licking up your arousal, your cum, everything that he can take. Letting out a satisfied noise he releases you from his mouth before you become too overstimulated. His face is wet as he stares up at your heaving form. He quickly reaches out and slaps your sensitive pussy. You squeal, legs closing tightly as you scramble away from him.

“What the fuck?!”

The question is ignored as he smiles darkly at you, standing to his full height. “Knew you’d be messy.” He groans, a bit to himself as he strokes himself through his pants. Your eyes track the movements, thighs squeezing together again.

“Fuck you,” you spit the words out at him, shooting daggers.

“You want to? Okay baby, all you had to do was say so. You didn’t have to keep playing your little games. I would’ve let you whenever you wanted.” He laughs at the look you give him, unzipping the front of his pants. Your response dies as you watch the motion. He pulls his cock out, stroking it lightly as you watch. He’s letting you take him in. Letting you think about the size and girth of him. Your gaze shoots back up to him, ready to tell him no. Hell no. That thing is not getting anywhere near you. It’ll break you in half. A smirk splays on his lips, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. He doesn’t wait for you to voice your concerns, he’s dipping to the bed, placing his body over yours, caging you in with his weight.

“Let me kiss you.” He mutters down, his eyes catching yours before dipping to your parted and panting mouth.

You answer him with taking his bottom lip in between your teeth. You bite him meanly, wanting to get a reaction out of him. He laughs breathlessly, jutting his cock against your wet pussy. It makes you moan, releasing the biting hold you had on him. It lets him press his mouth against yours, sucking your lips against him. You can taste yourself on his mouth and you whine, hands running up his broad and muscled back to his face. You tilt his head, deepening the kiss. When his tongue hits yours, your hips buck up against his cock, grinding his length against you. He answers with a moan into your mouth, sucking on your tongue. You feel dizzy at the taste and feel of him.

He pulls back from your lips slightly, rolling his hips, letting you grind against his length, soaking it with yourself. “Taste so fucking good.” His head dips to your throat, his tongue blazing a hot trail up to your jaw. His mouth is nipping, tasting, pulling sounds out of you that are pathetic as you press your clit against his throbbing length. The weight of him is on you, the heat of him, it’s making you lose your mind. If you haven’t already.

“Every time you get on my fucking nerves, I think of this. Making you squirm and cry for me.”

“Shut up.” You moan out, hips tilting up at his words. You’re trying to catch the tip of him now, ready for him to fill you up. He’s not letting you, knowing exactly what you’re trying to do. Trying to get the tip of him in you so he’ll fuck you. He’s going to make you work harder for it.

“Why? You get wetter every time I say something.” He laughs dryly, “See? You just fucking keep creaming on my cock. Dirty messy girl. You want me to fuck you. Is that it? Want my cock to stretch you out?”

Your nails dig into his back through his shirt, and he groans, cock jumping between the two of you, making you both moan at the feel of it.

“Yeah. Mark me up. Make me bleed.” His voice is low and growly. He leaves your embrace to shuck his shirt off, coming back down to press you against the mattress. He catches your throat in his teeth, biting and sucking. Crying out, your nails drag down his bare back. Bastard. He hurt you on purpose, so you’d do exactly what he wanted you to. He eases the bite with his tongue, swirling and tasting.

“I h-hate you,” you hiccup, rolling your pussy against him, “just fuck me already.”

Ghost makes a noncommittal ‘hmm’ in the back of his throat as he trails kisses on your collarbones. He’s never nice and gentle for too long, delivering a mean bite without soothing the pain afterwards. You make a keening noise and thump a hand on his shoulder in frustration. He finds that pretty funny, huffing a breathless laugh against your skin as he continues is his assault, obviously in no hurry. He licks a slow and warm line across your breasts. Angry at his carelessness, at his lazy touching and licking, you lean up and catch his collarbone in your mouth. Your teeth sink down harshly.

“Fuck.” He growls out, cock thrusting against you as the taste of blood coats your lips. Of course, he’d get off on the pain. Of course, he’d think it’s the hottest thing in the world, pissing you off –

You release him with a cry, his heavy cock pressing into you now. Your heels catch underneath you, ready to scramble out from underneath him. You see the mark you made on him, the press of your teeth on his skin, the crescents already bruised. He catches you, gripping your hips as he lets out a slew of curse words as he keeps moving forward into you, mingling with your pained noises. It’s thick. So painfully thick, your wetness doing nothing to prepare you for how big his damn dick is. You pant and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to adjust to his size. Your hands scramble up to his biceps, your body trying to take him, push him away or keep him still, you’re not sure. Ghost knocks your feet out from beneath you, grabbing the back of your knees to press them up close to your chest. He’s crushing you and you let out a short angry noise as he presses closer, catching your lips with his. He sucks a kiss, dodging your still biting teeth. He keeps pressing you until he’s got you in a mating press, cock bottoming your vision fades for a moment, you let out a long and anguished noise.

He isn’t moving, he’s so still besides his panting above you, cock twitching in you. His hands flex around the hold he has on your legs, his weight pinning you down completely. He’s deep, deeper than anyone has been, filling you up more than you ever thought possible. You nod at him frantically as you moan, thinking that’ll get him to start moving, but he merely laughs down at you.

“Bratty little thing. You just needed a cock filling you up, huh? Poor girl. Oh.” He chuckles sardonically, “I can feel how much you like me talking to you. Keep clenching around me like that baby and I’m going to start thinking you’re a dirty little slut.”

“Fuck. Oh, fuck you.” You hiss out through your bared teeth, nails pressing into his forearms. Even with him still pissing you off, your pussy is clinging to him, keeping him deep and twitching around him as you feel him throb. Ghost doesn’t move his hips. One of his big hands press down the back of your thigh, leaving a fired path in its wake, stopping when his thumb comes around and press hard against your clit. He keeps the pad of his thumb dormant but presses like he’s hitting a button. Your hips twitch, not able to move or grind against him in the way he has you pinned. The pressure he’s keep makes you whine, a little in pain and beyond frustrated. All he’s done is teased you. Taking a deep breath, you gather yourself before casting your gaze on him.

“Y’know what I think? I think you don’t know how to fuck me right. I think you’re a coward, Ghost, waiting until I was asleep to come in here and have your way with me. I think you got a big thick dick and don’t know how to use it.” You sneer at him, keeping yourself dreadfully still under his cock. You don’t want to move in fear of his reaction.

He freezes, staring down at you. You can’t read him at all. He doesn’t need the mask to hide his emotions or feelings. He’s a master at this, you can tell. That spike of fear from earlier comes back. The one where he scared you in the kitchen with his presence alone. He leans slowly into you, hovering his face right above yours. His eyes are burning. He’s still, he’s so still, until his thumb starts to rub tight pressing circles around your clit. You catch a cry in your mouth, just barely, the noise turning into a higher pitched whine.

“Nice try, sweetheart. Just for that, you’ll come around my big thick dick,” he mocks your tone and words, “without me even moving. You can beg, but it’s not going to happen.”

The words he delivers darkly to you and the circles he’s pressing has you tossing your head back, hips rocking, trying to get away from the feeling. The leg that isn’t caught up in his hand kicks out, trying to catch anything solid. He’s laughing again, the noise is going to haunt you in your sleep for the rest of your life. You’re right there, you’re right there, pussy clutching around his cock painfully. A noise comes from your throat, your head tilting back up as your entire body seizes upwards, right there, you’re right there.

Ghost rips his hand away from you.

“I don’t think you deserve to come on my cock.”

You let out a pained cry, body slumping back into the bed, heart rate erratic. You were so close, cunt about to milk the shit out of the length inside you. You brave a look up at the man and immediately regret it. He’s scary like this, with you at his mercy. You watch his thumb go back to your clit. Your breath catches and he continues like he never stopped. Your body picks up right back the edge, and you mewl out, ready for him to make you let go. Let go. Let go. Right there.

He stops.

Crying out in frustration again, you slap a hand onto his chest in anger. This time he doesn’t find it funny. He lets go of your leg, gripping both hands in a single one of his. The notion of that strikes something in you. His hands are big enough to hold the two of yours. Why did you ever think you could get a one up on this man? Your hips are still tilted up, his cock keeping your lower half pinned to your mattress. You can squirm a bit better, and squirm you do. You freeze, though, when his free hand is moving back to clit, his thumb yet again torturing you. He keeps at it. Bringing you right to the edge only to back away. Right there. He stops. Right there. He stops.

Time ends up blurring together. You can barely keep your eyes open. You have no idea if it’s been five minutes or fifty. Your pussy is leaking, it’s aching painfully, your clit is so sensitive, Ghosts merely has to brush his thumb against it to bring you to the edge. He has to stop touching you for longer periods of time in between so you don’t cum immediately. He’s since let your hands ago, liking the way you clutch at him, the way you try to touch yourself so that he can knock your hands away, the way you shakily brush your fingers over his chest. He’s lost the rest of his clothes besides his soft balaclava, you’re not sure when. You no longer have the energy or brain to be mean. You tried pinching him, slapping him, biting him, anything to get him to let you cum. He has to be in pain with you, feeling how your pussy weeps and clenches around him. Your pleasure isn’t the only thing he’s denying. He’s denying his, just to see you unravel into something else under him.

Unravel you do.

By the millionth -it’s got to be the millionth- time he brushes your clit and denies you, you feel hot tears spill down your cheeks. Anger had long left you, but it’s here again. You’ll do it. You’ll beg.

“Stop! Simon, please! Please fuck, I swear to God, please. Fuck me and fuck me right, please –”

That’s as far as you get before he’s surging his hips into yours, patience worn thin. It’s all he needed to hear. Needed to hear how desperate and whiny you’d get for him, beg him to give it to you the way you need. He doesn’t care if it was delivered with anger, doesn’t care that he had to torture you to get it out. You begged him. Begged him to fuck you. You’re giving him high pitched and breathy uh uh uh’s with his erratic thrusts, music to his fucking ears.

You choke on a broken mewl, pussy flaring hot as you cum hard. You cum like you’ve never before. You feel like you leave your body as you seize up, cunt milking around Simon’s cock. He lets out a curse as he feels you, fucking you through it. Your back arches, and you’re still cumming, you’re still clutching him against you, your body worried that at any moment he’s going to stop. The orgasm rips through you like it’s destroying and rewriting every molecule in your body. A rasp leaves you by the end of it, overstimulated as Ghost keeps going. No. Oh no, he's not going to stop.

Your hands scramble to his hips, like that’ll stop him from fucking and bucking into you with oblivion. “Si—” You manage to choke out, tears spilling from your eyes again.

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you? Thought you begged for it?” He laughs, a bit winded, hands digging into your skin. God, he’s so mean, he knows it. Loves looking at how destroyed he makes you feel. He presses down into you, chest against yours as he fucks you. He bites your ear before whispering into it. “I want to ruin you. I want you to feel how ruined you’ve made me after all this time, how every time you snapped back at me, how – fuck- how every time you did shit to piss me off, every time you tried to make a joke out of me. How it’s made me feel. Feel what the fuck you’ve done to me.”

He turns your head to pull you into a kiss, a sloppy and wet kiss that leaves you breathless. With his words and spit of hate, the kiss feels gentle. It feels devastating in way you know nothing will ever compare to this kiss. Nothing will ever compare to the way he’s ruining you from the inside out, his arms wrapping around you to keep him close, the groans and moans he’s giving you as your nails dig into his skin, as your teeth mark him. You’re feeling what you’ve done to him. A broken sound leaves you as you feel yourself close again, his cock hitting just the right spot in you. It’s heavy a dragging through you, making you sob against his mouth. You’re going to feel him for days. Maybe even next week.

All you can think of is him. His cock sinking in deep, barely coming out to press harder into you. The way he tastes as you kiss him, feeling his hands grip anywhere he can touch you while he fucks you open. He’s curling into you, fucking so so deep that you swear you can see stars. He’s consuming you, ruining you just like he said. It’s brutal, but it’s sweet, his kiss subduing you into something placid, somewhere intimate. It’s messy and wet, it’s him. It’s always been him. The thought picks you up and carries you to the throes of your orgasm, hot plasma coursing your veins as your hip pick up and stutter down onto him.

“I’m gonna, ohhhh, I’m gonna—” you hiccup out, arms around his neck to keep him close. You’re licking his lips as you moan, legs coming around his waist to lock around there too.

“Fuck. Fuck. Give it to me. Give it to me, pretty girl.” He’s growling so lowly you hardly hear him as your eyes cross.

You shake your head, frantically trying to hold sane before you leave your body in another debilitating orgasm, “Come in me, Simon, please. Please. I need to feel it. Let me feel what I’ve done to you. I need it I need it.” You’re babbling, a bit nonsensical, clutching onto him so he doesn’t leave you. He’s not going to leave you. He’d never leave you.

Simon drops his head with a moan akin to a whimper before sinking his teeth into your shoulder. The pain sends you the edge, his cock surging into you with urgency. It’s so hot, filling you up, as he continues to fuck his cum deep into you. It drags it out for both of you, your bodies not willing to just give up the feeling. He’s pressed so deep into you; you feel like you’re never getting him out. His hips coming to a stuttering stop, his cock still throbbing as the last waves of it roll through you.

You’re both covered in sweat, cum, spit, and who knows else what, but it feels good. It feels good having him collapse on top of you, having his weight on you like a comforting blanket. Your hands trail lazily across his shoulder blades, feeling the irritated and raised ridges of the marks your nails sliced through him. He practically purrs, nuzzling his face into your neck, inhaling you in.

“I still hate you.” You whisper to him, but your hands can’t get enough of him, feeling him up. Your mouth can’t get enough of him as you plant kisses anywhere you can reach. You feel him smile into your neck.

“I hate you too, baby.”

#this took. for.ever.#there's a reason why my user name on other platforms is hatespit #because it is so hot.#sorry not sorry #enjoy!!! ily guys so much seriously!#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod mwii #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader

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via-the-cryptid · 1 year

Text

ok so like. the Riddler is obviously baffled by the fact that a little girl managed to just… phase right through the fuckin wall. like that might as well just happen, I guess, but how??? he has no prior knowledge of Ellie’s Ghostliness(TM) and therefore concludes that 1. a meta snuck into Gotham and Batman hadn’t noticed yet, and 2. this little girl has managed to successfully evade not only the Joker and himself, but also the goddamn Batman.

obviously, Eddie needs to know more, and what better way than to find her again? and this time, he refuses to let her escape so easily.

it’s kind of a mix between “who are you little stranger”, “someone actually managed to outsmart me?? what???”, and “hhhholy fuck this kid’s a menace. I swear if she doesn’t die I’m making her my heir”.

so, Riddler goes on the hunt, and Ellie goes on the run. time and again, he just misses her as she manages to phase through the walls or turn invisible at the last second. much like Danny in his early stages, Ellie’s powers are all out of whack and she has to adjust to using them safely, since she’s now an actual half-alive/half-dead entity and not slowly destabilizing as her body eats away at itself from the inside out. for her, the Riddler is basically good practice from someone who seems marginally less murderous towards her than the rest (cough cough, the Joker).

and then one day, I don’t know how, maybe she’s tired or maybe he’s lucky, but the Riddler actually succeeds. Ellie gets trapped with the puzzle as the Riddler watches with glee, so excited to finally get his answers.

he steps into the room and she’s immediately on edge, because even if he’s not actively coming at her with a sledgehammer, he’s still a threat and she’s still in danger. the Riddler, on the other hand, can’t help but be impressed… and also mildly concerned. she’s just a lot, well, younger than he thought she was.

and MEANWHILE with Ellie, she’s been trying to dodge villains (not ghosts, but villains, because apparently wherever she ended up is a goddamn clown show) for the past week or two and she’s getting fed up with it. now she’s trapped, exhausted, and irritated beyond belief, staring down a man who, while not dressed like a clown this time, still looks like the kind of weirdo you only find in a New York Walmart at 4am. so against her better judgement, she decides, fuck it. might as well play along.

so imagine her surprise when the first thing he says is,

“Wait, how old are you again?”

The Riddler blinks a few times, because honestly he wasn’t expecting himself to say that either, but he’s said it and he’s not taking it back. Ellie just kinda stares at him with a baffled look before going, “wouldn’t you like to know, Question Man.”

“Where are your parents??”

“Never had any. Can I go now?”

And now Eddie’s getting a headache, because goddamnit the genius baby is an orphan and his first instinct was ‘I want to keep her’. He had better not be turning into Batman, he swears.

#danny phantom #danny phantom au #dp x dc #dc comics #dani phantom #danielle phantom #ellie phantom #the riddler #dc riddler #Gotham Ghost AU

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baddywronglegs · 5 months

Note

Please will you tell Tumblr the story of the spider head hat?

Oh yeah, this is how I got into TTRPGs.

While at uni, a friend correctly identified me as the kind of nerd who would enjoy TTRPGs so brought me along to a game at our uni's wargame and RPG society.

I think we were just before the 5e boom, so D&D itself wasn't big and the games running at the society were mostly Warhammer 40k and Call of Cthulhu.

So my first game was Call of Cthulhu.

The setting was I think frontier-era America; of the members of the party I remember, my friend who brought me into the game was an enormous Scottish dentist, someone I never saw outside of the game was a priest, I think native to the area we were as he was the only one with a clue what was going on around us, and me, a shipwright who wanted to make an ocean-going airship, I think? It's hard to remember that bit in detail because such trifles do not survive first encounter with Call of Cthulhu.

The first thing I remember was us camping for the night and our GM asking us to make Listen checks. I was the only one to pass and did so with huge success, everyone's happy, the new player's getting good rolls.

The GM looks worried for me.

She asks me to make a Sanity check. People stop smiling. I roll. It is bad.

The GM leads me out of the room to talk to me in private. We leave a hushed table.

"So in the night, before you fall asleep you hear a beautiful singing coming from the woods. Compelled by the music, you get out of your tent, and you follow the sound of the music into the trees."

"Ah. OK."

"Can I have your character sheet please?"

"OK..."

We re-enter the room. The GM has my character sheet in her hand. There are omens at play here. What there isn't at play here is me.

Come the morning everyone realises the new person's gone so set off tracking me into the forest.

Good news! They found me! I was even alive!

Bad news! The singing was giant purple spiders with humanlike intelligence and apparently a taste for insomniac shipwrights!

Our brick shithouse of a dentist leaps on the back of one of the spiders and begins wrestling it, hoping to be out of reach of its ability to attack him as long as he can stay on its back.

Player A: "I'm going to try shooting the spider"

Dentist: "Please don't, I'm on it, if you miss you'll hit me and I don't like being shot"

Player A: "That's OK, I didn't miss."

Dentist: "Well thank fuck for that."

Player B: "I'm going to shoot it too."

Dentist: "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Eventually, mercifully un-shot, the dentist managed to wrestle the head off the spider. He didn't actually kill it in doing so but it's fine, player C shot the head in his hands and it stopped snapping at him.

Silence fell. Calm reigned. The GM told me how much sanity I had lost. It was more than the rest of the party had ever lost combined. I learned not to listen so hard in future.

The dentist looked at the GM, a giant spider head still in his hands.

"Can I wear its head as a hat?"

The GM sighed. "Make me a San check"

Dice noises. "Fail!" He said that word with such glee.

"You lose one sanity, but you also turn the whole spider's exoskeleton into a suit of armour. It has the same stats as leather but also poisons anyone who touches it with their skin, and anyone you meet while wearing it has to make Sanity checks."

And that's why I love TTRPGs.

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ebonyslasher · 10 months

Note

Sorry if this is to specific

But can you do a thick user with demon slayer men? And when I say thick i mean like a pear body shape wide lower body parts and stretch marks I just don’t see a lot of writers do this body type

It's not too specific at all! Honestly, you could even give more detail than that and it'd still be okay. I chose the guys, since you didn't include which specific men you wanted.

Pear-Shaped Thick!Reader with Demon Slayer men:

Tengen Uzui

"What a flashy figure...!"

Tengen is enchanted by your looks. Your hair, skin, and fashion were so distinctive from the area. He was bored with the Meiji era standard of beauty. How were you going to be flashy if you looked standard?! He finally found another person that would understand his plight.

As expected, he's quite vocal with his appreciation. How could he NOT be? You were cool and extra fine; someone worthy to be apart of his harem.

"Y/N, you're just as stylish as ever!"

"Whoa! Be careful throwing that flashy figure around, you might just make people faint!"

The people he's referring to is his wives. They are also avid fans of you. What? You thought he would faint? And miss looking at that awesome body of yours?

He certainly did not want to miss seeing your smooth skin, enriched with lovingly patterned strikes that covered your cute hanging stomach, ass, and thighs. He bit his lips at the thought of touching your soft body. Cuddling with you would be heaven on earth. You were beautiful and beginning to be a wonderful possible addition to his marriage.

Giyuu Tomioka

Characteristically, your shape is not the first attribute Giyuu noticed. He paid more attention to your face and how you acted during your introduction. Once his attraction to you becomes more apparent over time, that's when he pays attention to your body.

He's overwhelmed. How could he handle all that? He isn't a confident man. The only time his confidence shows is in his fighting and training, slightly. Not in romance, much less sexual interactions. He employs a secret style training...calls it Sex Breathing. It targets his arms, hips, and legs in order to handle your bottom heavy size.

One time, he accidentally watched you when you were changing. It was a small moment before he forcefully turned his head away. But Tomioka did not miss that you had stretch marks adorning your thick thighs. Giyuu became addicted to the memory, wishing he could have had the audacity to watch you fully undress.

Your figure could not be hidden by your clothing, much to his combined glee and chagrin. He loved that he could see it, but hated that others could enjoy your lovely figure too.

Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei, respectable and pious as he is, privately succumbs to his dirty thoughts after you both start dating. He'd felt your bottom heavy figure against his body after the first hug. The feeling of that soft stomach and thick thighs stuck in his memory. The hulking young man begins to pray.

"Kami, as these straying thoughts plague my mind, i must ask that the gods keep me afloat. But, I must thank them! Only they could construct a being such as Y/N! I will not ignore this obvious blessing to my life!"

Gyomei will not make it known of his thoughts on your figure, keeping his comments to himself. He makes the effort to not make you uncomfortable, not wanting to scare you off. Once you let him know that it's okay, he is more free with his thoughts.

He strongly desires to hold you daily, his hands ache to travel down your pear-shaped figure in glee. You felt so soft. Gyomei wanted to cuddle to feel his hard muscles against your supple form. It's always a blessing when he's able to. Each time is more magical than the last.

Gyomei, selfishly, makes you describe your stretch marks to him. As poetic as possible, to paint the perfect picture in his head.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

It was rough journey getting past Sanemi's tough exterior. Many times you wanted to give up on your odd pursuit of this mean ass hashira. But, it was obvious his act protected himself and others, albeit extremely harsh. You knew something sweet lied past that facade.

And your intuition was correct. After you broke him down with your endless flirting, he started to bite back. In his own special way, of course. It starts with:

"I'm not staring!"

"Just cause you're shaped like that doesn't mean you can say whatever you want."

"Sometimes looking at you calms me down...but excites me in a different way.."

Sanemi felt drunk whenever he was with you. The sight of you makes his heart race. Your pear shaped figure was something he could not ignore. Trust and believe, he has tried many times. It was as if your body called out to him, instructing him to look. Much to his embarrassment, it did not take long for him to relent to the voice and stare. He was always in a different plane of existence when you came into the room. It annoyed him to no end.

Sanemi was speechless when he first laid eyes upon your unclothed form. His eyes gravitated up and down the electric marks that blessed your appearance. You had never seen him so affected.

#demon slayer #black reader #tengen uzui #giyuu tomioka #gyomei himejima #sanemi shinazugawa #tengen x reader #giyuu x reader #gyomei x reader #sanemi x reader

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suugarbabe · 1 year

Note

Hi! Love your writing and thanks for doing requests for a couple weeks! If you have time, could you please do a George Weasley x y/n with a right-person-wrong-time trope? As in they’ve liked each other for years but one of them was always in a relationship…until now. Not sure if they should end up at the Yule Ball together or if it’s after the war. I’ll let you decide how long the angst should last for them haha. Thanks for all your hard work!

*for the purpose of this fic my beloved Fred survived the war okay? okay.

You and George always just seemed to miss each other. In third year, when George first started noticing a crush on you, there was nothing he could do about it, as you were dating Oliver Wood.

When Oliver had broken up with you the same year as the Yule Ball, you weren't that upset because your feelings for Fred had seemed to blossom. However because your break up was not made a big deal, not everyone knew right away, and Fred had found someone else for the ball.

After the war, you weren't sure you would every see George again. People became distant, everyone was slow to connect again. But you were happy to have found Angelina once more, the both of you connecting again like you did in school.

You even got a flat together, which you were thankful for. You found it difficult living alone ever since the war happened. When Angelina came home one day, giddy and smiling, you immediately knew something was up.

"Why are you so smiley," you pointed and twirled your wand at her direction from its previously place of helping you decorate for Halloween.

She shrugged her shoulders, "I just ran into someone today is all."

"Oh? And who might that be?"

She grinned so devilishly you knew she was already hatching a plan, "Fred Weasley."

Your face immediately dropped, "Was he with-"

"George wasn't there," she interrupted, and your heart sank a little, "but I did ask about him. Found out some interesting information as well."

"What information might that be, pray tell?" You were slightly nervous, not sure what she would find as good news but knowing in your gut what you were hoping it was.

"I found out that George and the bimbo broke up...six months ago."

"You're kidding," it was hard to hide your smile now, but you tried to conceal your glee, "I mean, did he say how George was doing?"

Angelina patted the couch cushion next to her, "Apparently, a few nights after the break up, Fred and George got piss drunk and all George could do is talk about..." she trailed off, giggling slightly.

"Who? For fucks sake, Ange, who was he talking about?"

"He was talking about you," she poked your shoulder and immediately you turned towards her, pulling your knees up to your chest. "Well go on, then, what did he say? Did Fred tell you?"

Angelina nodded, "Apparently George was sputtering on about how you were the one for him and the timing just never worked out, and how he would never forgive himself for not taking you to the Yule Ball."

Your mouth dropped open in shock, but she continued, "Fred said he got this loopy look on his face, like lovesick look and that George just went on about how beautiful and smart and witty you were and if he ever got the chance to see you again that he," she held her hands up, "get this, he would make you his and never let you get away again."

You covered your face with your hands, whispering screaming into your palms before peaking over your finger tips, "He did not say that."

Angelina nodded again, making an x over her chest, "I swear to Godric he did. Also, I forgot to mention," she stood up from the couch, "the twins will be here in an hour."

Angelina was smart to stand before she told you this because you immediately started to chase her around the flat, screaming obscenities and asking how she could do that to you when you needed to find an outfit and do your hair and do your makeup.

Thankfully, Angelina was there to help, making sure you looked at perfect as you wanted to feel before Fred and George arrived. When they first got to the flat, you were a nervous wreck, but thankfully George looked of a similar status.

However, after a few drinks, you were feeling a little more confident, and George seemed to go back to his old self. Fred and Angelina had left the room twenty minutes ago, but neither you nor George seemed to notice.

"You know I never felt more stupid than when I showed up to the ball with that girl instead of you," George was shaking his head as he took another sip of his beer.

You smiled shyly down at your drink, "You didn't know Oliver and I broke up. S'not a big deal, Georgie."

A low hum left his throat, "I've missed that."

"Missed what?" you chanced looking up, meeting his gaze. Merlin did you miss his eyes looking at you.

"Missed you saying my name, calling me Georgie. Missed your voice, just missed you really," he placed one of his large hands on your thigh next to him.

"I've missed you too, Georgie," you placed your hand on top of his. George's eyes roamed your face, going from your eyes to your lips, back to your eyes again.

"Can I..." he trailed off as he leaned closer, hesitant to make the move, but as soon as he saw your slight nod his lips slotted against yours and you knew from that moment that you didn't want to kiss another person ever again.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fluff #george weasley blurb

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

Tear Down My Reason

Orderly!Blue Jones X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: Your friend and follow paitent has seemingly disappeared. There surely has to be some clue of her whereabouts in Blue's office.

Part 2/Series Masterlist

A/N: I don't know what to say.

Warnings: overuse of italics, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, there's some power dynamics in here, gonna say dubious concent because reader is a patient, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 4805

________________________________

The lock on Blue’s office was embarrassingly easy to pick. For an asylum that was meant to house potentially dangerous individuals, they sure did have piss poor security.

Though, you technically were the only patient that could unlock doors with your improvised kit. A bent to hell fork, three hair pins, and a sort of straightened out spring from Abigail’s bed.

Which is why you had to be the one to sneak in.

The others had offered to come with you, not wanting you to face the risk alone. But, the more people the more likely it was that you’d be caught.

The original plan had been for you to do this at night, ‘when no one else was around’, but as you’d quickly pointed out, there were plenty of people around after lights out. Lots in fact. If anything the corridors were patrolled more when the sun went down.

So here you were, breaking in at just after 2pm. Right when Blue would be at lunch and away from his office.

You crept in, quietly shutting the door behind you and heading for his desk.

It wasn’t as much of a cluttered mess as you’d expected, a small mercy, but it was still a state. You sighed a little and then began to rummage through the files, keeping them as close to where they had been as you could.

There had to be some clue here, some scrap of paper that told you where Lilly was.

She had been taken to solitary three days ago. Solitary was empty.

You had been searching for around ten minutes, finding nothing to aid you directly, but a few minor things that you committed to memory, such as the main access override code.

There was a sound outside, footsteps, unmistakably Blue.

What. The. Fuck.

You glanced at the clock: 2:11pm. He should still be at lunch, you should have plenty of time. The one fucking day that he doesn’t follow his schedule to the fucking second.

Panic froze your limbs, squeezing them in a vice like grip that made you dizzy and nauseous. If he caught you… you end up dead. Or worse.

You look desperately around the room for somewhere to hide.

The outside of Blue reaches the frosted glass of the office door.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-

There was a muffled voice, someone speaking.

“Do I look like I care about your incompetence?” Blue’s voice cut over it.

Oh good, not only was there another person but Blue was pissed off too.

Swell.

Lacking any other viable option, you dived under the desk, pushing yourself back as far as you could and pulling the chair back into its correct place as you went.

The door clicked open the second you were out of sight, your heart in your mouth. You tried your best to stay quiet, to breathe as carefully and gently as you could even though it still sounded thunderous in your ears.

“Sir,” you recognised the voice, Kevin, a slimy man that personally you would quite like to see castrated, “there has to be something that-”

“Sit the fuck down.” Blue marched over to the desk, pulled out the chair and sat.

Narrowly you managed to avoid a knee to the face, and pushed yourself even further back.

“I am so sorry that-”

“Do I have to repeat myself?”

You couldn’t help a small smile. There was an undeniable glee in the fact that Kevin was the one in trouble.

As you listened to Blue verbally punch him in the gut, you discovered the reason why Blue was back so early from lunch.

There had been a fight in the cafeteria. You didn’t know the patients involved personally, barely on a first name basis. Apparently Kevin had handled the situation badly. Very badly. Another orderly was in the infirmary.

You could hear the shake in Kevin’s voice, even as he grew quieter and quieter in the face of Blue’s rage.

There was one horrible moment when Blue shifted in his seat, stretching his leg out, his foot caught your thigh for a second. Time stretched. But Blue didn’t even falter in his admonishments. And you thanked whatever god’s that were looking out for you.

Finally, when it seemed like the head orderly had had enough of voicing his displeasure he stood and walked with Kevin as the latter left his office. “One more mistake like this and it’ll be your last, understand?” The underlying threat in his voice was like ice down your back, despite the fact it wasn’t directed at you.

“Yes, yes sir, thank you, I won’t, yes sir.” Kevin tripped over every word in his haste to get out of Blue’s sight.

There was a thud and click as the door shut. Blue let out a sigh of frustration.

The sound of the clock on the wall ticked in its even pace.

Surely he’d go and complete his lunch break, or maybe head outside for a smoke.

Just a little longer, the finish line was in sight, you could-

“You can come out now honey.”

For a second you didn’t feel anything, no panic, no fear. Just blissful nothing.

And then everything came crashing down.

Blue’s shoes clicked as he walked over to the desk.

You were going to be sick. You were going to pass out. Your heart was beating so fast that the vein in your neck was going to burst and you’d die from internal bleeding.

Blue pulled the chair back and poked his head under the desk to smile at you. The expression would be sweet on anyone else.

He offered his hand.

You looked at it and then to his face.

A rabbit caught in a snare about to be skinned alive by the hunter.

“Are you going to be civil, or do I need to drag you out?” He asked calmly.

You took his hand.

His smile widened.

Surprisingly he helped you up, one hand holding yours and the other on your upper arm, making sure you didn’t bang your head on the desk edge.

He lets go of your hand, but not your arm and holds you close.

“To what do I owe the pleasure honey?”

Oh you didn’t like that, didn’t like that at all. The way he said it, the way his lips moved around the word, the small flash of his tongue between his teeth as he elongated it, dragged it out to be far longer than it needed to be.

You swallowed, your throat dry. “How did…” you whispered.

“How did I know you were there?” Blue finished for you, as calmly as if he was asking you what you wanted for breakfast.

You nodded once, eyes wide. Afraid that the second you blinked he would lunge for you.

He smiled sweetly. “My office door was unlocked.”

Your stomach drops. “You knew the whole time?”

His smile widens and he nods twice. “Did you enjoy Kevin getting his verbal beating?”

“I…”

“I know he’s not a favourite amongst your lot.” He watched you carefully as he spoke, seemingly reading your mind from every micro action you made. “Though I don’t think he’s personally upset you, has he?”

You stared at him, trying and failing to hide the shake in your limbs.

Blue reaches out with his free hand and slowly takes hold of your jaw. His touch is soft, light, but there’s a ridgedness to his grip, a threat of pain. “Has he?” Blue whispered.

“No.” You shake your head as much as he lets you.

He smiles again, the expression gleaming against the sharp edge of cruelty in his eyes. “Good.”

Slowly he lets go of your jaw to trace your right eyebrow with his warm fingers. The touch is firm, unforgiving, as he slides down your cheek.

“Do you know why?”

You frown, shaking your head.

“Do you know why he doesn’t bother you as much?” He pauses, waiting.

“I try to stay out of his way.” You whisper.

“No,” he lengthens the word a little, adding a slight musical bounce. “Try again.”

“I…” you search his eyes for any sign, any hint of what the correct answer might be. Any way that you could side step his wrath.

His fingers start to slide down to your neck.

“I don’t.” You mutter, there are tears building in your eyes. You try to push them back.

Blue grins. “Silly thing.” He takes his fingers away from your skin for a moment to tap the tip of your nose with his forefinger.

You blink heavily, his firm grip on your arm stopping you from taking a step back in surprise.

He moves forwards, forcing you around until the back of your thighs hit the edge of his desk and leans closer. “Can’t think of one, tiny reason?” He breathes, so close to you that your lips are almost touching. His left hand rests against the table behind you, caging you in.

“Blue-”

“What were you doing in here?” His eyes are still playful but his tone shifts, completely dropping the smooth seductive tones for something much colder.

You swallow, and take a millisecond too long to answer.

You see the change the instant it happens, playful Blue turning into a supernova. He was going to kill you, eat you alive and pick his teeth with the bones.

Dread swelled up like an infection, blinding you to rational thought and you did the only thing that came to mind, the only action that could provide some semblance of a distraction to his anger.

You kissed him.

It was panicked and off, your nose bumping into his, but he freezes when your lips touch. A short intake of breath escaping his lungs.

You pull back, your mind finally catching up with your actions.

"Oh honey," he purrs, "do you think kissing me will get you out of trouble?"

You shake your head, eyes closed as tightly as you can.

Blue chuckles lightly and tilts your chin up with the tip of his finger, you move quickly as if his touch were burning.

"Open your eyes." A more foolish person would say he sounded kind.

He wipes a tear from your cheek as you do what he says.

"I'll tell you why," he speaks softly, gently trying to lull you into security, "he doesn't bother you. Hmm?" He raises his eyebrows. "Do you want to know?"

You nod just because you know it's the answer he wants.

Blue leans closer, so that his lips just touch the shell of your ear. "He doesn't bother you," he traces his fingers along your jaw again, turning your face closer to his. "Because only I get to bother you. Only I get to touch you," he places a soft kiss on your cheek, "and kiss you. Only me. Understand?"

You frown slightly, it didn’t make sense. Your interactions with Blue had always been to the minimum, you did your best to stay out of his way.

You’d heard stories though, accounts of what he could be like when he was near his worst. Those were enough to make you tiptoe around him.

Then the longer you thought about it… the orderlies didn’t bother you like they bothered everyone else, even when you should have been directly in their war path. You had assumed it was because you were quiet, trying to be careful around them, tried not to be the centre of their attention.

You had nearly been caught outside of your room after lights out once or twice. On one specific occasion you had been sure that you were going to be spotted, that you’d been seen, but it was as if the orderly on patrol had just missed you, had turned down another corridor at the last second.

What if they had seen you? What if they had been told you were off limits to even shout at? That wasn’t, that couldn’t be…

Blue kisses your cheek again, pressing his chest to yours. The action is soft, pleasant almost.

“So what are you doing in here honey?” He whispers against your skin. “And how did you get in?” He leans back slightly and bites his plump bottom lip.

He searches your face for a moment before he continues. “Either you, or someone else stole a key, or you picked the lock, or… ah,” he smiles, perfectly reading your expression even though you were sure you stayed neutral. “We have a lock picker in our midst.”

You swallow, the nervous gulp clicked loudly in your throat.

“I’m going to ask you one last time, why are you here?”

“Lilly.” You whisper.

“Ah.” Blue smiles and nods as if all the pieces were just falling together in his mind. “Of course, she’s a friend of yours isn’t she?”

You nod. “Where is she?”

Blue continues to smile and says nothing.

“They said she was in solitary.”

“Who did?” He asks playfully.

“But solitary is empty.”

“How do you know?” He tilts his head to the side, grinning like this was his favourite game.

“Blue…” You search his face for a second, oh every move you could make seemed like a very, very bad idea. “Please.”

‘Please.’ He mouths the word back at you, delighted. “You want a favour?”

You look down and he tuts. Quickly you look back at him. “Yes.”

“Oh, I don’t do favours honey, not with people I hardly know.” He lightly skimmed his hand along your hip. “But I can do a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Hmm.” He stares at you, waiting for your next move, willing you to ask.

“What do you want?”

Blue grins wickedly. The cat that got the cream. “An orgasm.”

Of course.

You clench your jaw, and nod, once.

Of course that’s what he wanted.

You don’t let yourself think about it, just move as if you're on autopilot. You step forward, beginning to drop to your knees but Blue’s grip on your bicep tightens, halting your action.

You stare up at him confused.

“Oh honey, I love the enthusiasm but the orgasm I want is yours.”

He doesn’t give you a second to process his words as he grabs hold of your thighs and lifts you onto the desk unceremoniously.

The suddenness of the action jolts you and you nearly fall completely back onto the papers and files. You grab hold of the edge to stop yourself.

Blue chuckles at the sharp escape of air from your lungs and kisses you hungrily, sliding his tongue into your mouth and moaning happily.

He keeps a firm hold of your thighs, spreading them wide and positioning himself perfectly between him. Not leaving an inch of space between your bodies as he grinds up against you.

You gasp into his mouth, his kisses are an onslaught, demanding. Storm waves crashing onto you and the only way you can stop yourself from drowning is to kiss back, to match his energy with your own.

You bite his lip and he growls when you push up against him, when you grab his shoulders and dig your nails in for stability.

He breaks the kiss only to latch onto your neck, licking and sucking and worrying the skin between his teeth.

You bite your lips together, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan, of letting him know you enjoyed anything he did.

But the action was in vain, the way your breathing changed, how to pressed yourself further into his touch, leaning your head to the side so that he could gain better access, told him everything he needed to know.

He licked a stripe up your neck, nipping lightly at your earlobe before planting a quick, wet kiss against your lips.

Then he dropped to his knees. The action was so quick it took your mind a second to catch up with it.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Blue hooked his fingers under your waistband and pulled down your trousers and panties in one quick stroke. The force nearly knocks you over and you jump to your feet to avoid falling.

You swore under your breath, just managing to stay upright.

Blue tutted and pushed your hip, forcing you to sit back on his desk. Then yanked your clothes off your feet and threw them to the side of the room, quickly repeating the action with your asylum issued slippers. He left your socks on.

Instinctively you moved to close your legs, but Blue situated himself quickly between them so that your knees just brushed the outside of his shoulders.

He tutted again and placed one warm hand on your left inner thigh and pressed. You jolted at the light touch and he smiled as he spread your further open.

Your muscles clenched as you squirmed under his gaze, fighting the urge to cover yourself.

Blue gazed at your cunt, seemingly committing every part of it to memory.

The cool air of his office left goosebumps along your skin and you shivered.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He whispered before slowly dragging the tip of his forefinger through your folds.

Your toes curled, your hips instinctively bucked towards the touch as Blue continued to stare, mesmerised. His lips slightly parted.

He let out a soft low moan as he teased your opening, unhurriedly sinking his finger further inside to his middle knuckle before easing it out.

Blue licks his bottom lip at the feel and sight of your wetness coating his skin. He repeats the action again, and again, and again. Always light, alway teasing, not enough pressure or pushing far enough in to do anything but rile you up. Never enough to give anything resembling relief.

The sound of your wetness echoed around the room with every slow push and pull. Embarrassment burned along your skin, you shouldn’t be enjoying this, shouldn’t be craving him to go further.

You whimpered, trying to keep the sound internal to save some semblance of your self worth.

Blue didn’t look up, but he did slip his middle finger inside you to join the other in the slow tortuous glide and twist.

You couldn’t help but sigh in relief, it still wasn’t enough but at least it was something-

At the sound of your sigh he pushed in further, finally sheathing his fingers completely in your wet heat and curling them upwards to stroke your trembling walls..

“Blue!” You gasp, your voice so high pitched and whiney, so desperate for him.

“That’s it honey,” he muttered, diving forward and kissing your clit. “That’s it.”

You moaned, the sound catching in your throat and he groaned in response, his eyes rolling back as he circled your clit with the tip of his tongue.

He hummed against you, the vibrations sending shivers along your skin. “Taste so good honey.” He muttered before quickly returning to his previous actions.

You couldn’t stop the little noises of pleasure cascading out of your mouth now, growing louder with every swipe of his tongue and caress of his fingers.

His name fell out of your lips repeatedly, muffled and whispered but crystal clear to Blue’s ears.

The wet sound of his fingers continuously rang out as your slick began to drip down to his wrist and pool on the desk underneath you.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he muttered as you grabbed hold of the back of his head with your left hand, your hips rising forward to meet his tongue and fingers, to push them deeper, harder.

“Blue, I, oh god,” pleasure was curling so tightly in your belly, starting to send little spikes along your muscles. “Please!”

Your sharp cry cut off whatever you were going to say next as bliss flooded your veins, overriding any other thought.

Blue’s left hand squeezed your thigh as he continued to lick and suck and curl his fingers throughout your orgasm, trying to prolong it as much as he could.

You came down slowly, breathing hard.

At first you thought you’d have to tell him to stop, if he would even listen you to that is, but seemingly instinctively he slowed his movements and carefully pulled his fingers from you as he gave one last kiss to your centre.

“Thank you.” He muttered, his voice almost inaudible. He stayed on his knees, looking down. Your cum shining on the bottom half of his face.

He seemed so… soft like this. Behaved and, there was flutter in your core. You wanted him to… you wanted to…

You wanted him.

You leant down, your legs still shaky and tilted his head up. He stared at you with wide, confused eyes for a moment before you kissed him ravenously. This time forcing your tongue into his mouth before he had a chance to react.

He moaned loudly, his lips moving against yours as you licked into his mouth, tasting your release and scrapping your nails along the back of his head.

Blue sat up straighter, raising up on his knees and grabbing hold of you everywhere, anywhere he could touch to hold you closer. He whined into your kiss, heat rising to his skin as you lavished attention on him.

“You don’t have to do this honey,” he gasped between kisses, “you did your part of the deal, I’ll-”

“Get on the chair.” You growled, biting his lower lip.

He whimpered, soft and low in his throat as you pulled back and quickly did as you commanded. Sitting on his chair hastily and lacking grace.

You took the smallest moment to enjoy the view. His kiss swollen lips and flushed skin, how needy he looked, the light pinch in his forehead, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breathing, how desperate he was.

With a little hop down from the desk you approached him, pulling off your top and bra and dropping them to the floor.

His eyes raked over your body, now completely bare for him. For a moment he was seemingly hypnotised by the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hip and reached out for you, running his hands comfortingly over your skin.

You kissed him again needily, demanding his submission as you pushed him further into the chair. He fell back happily.

“Up.” You took hold of the elastic waistband of his scrubs and taped his waist.

He lifted his hips quickly, gazing at you in awe as you pulled them down to his knees.

His cock sprang free, bobbing against his stomach. Blue seemingly wasn’t a man for underwear.

He was long and thick, weeping from need. The urge to lean down and run your tongue along the length of him, to trace the large vein that ran up his shaft and taste the precome pooling at his tip was almost overwhelming.

Blue stayed still, his heart echoing in his cock, making it jump with every beat. He watched you, his hands balled tense against the arm rests as he let you admire him.

You breathed in deeply and he swallowed, an audible click.

“Such a pretty cock,” you whispered and Blue moaned needily.

You quickly put your left knee on the chair, just outside of his thigh, and kept your right foot on the ground as you took his length in your hand and slowly guided it inside of yourself.

Blue let out a long cry of pleasure as you languidly sank down on him. His thighs shook with microtremors as he tensed them, forcing himself to stay still and not buck up into your sweet heat.

You took your time, half teasing him and half out of necessity. Despite your previous orgasm and your abundant wetness, it had been a while since you’d been this intimate with anyone.

The stretch was significant, but delicious.

Finally, your hips met his as he filled you completely, a sigh escaping both of your lips. Instively Blue put his hands on your waist, his touch was light, careful. Just hovering over your skin.

Experimentally you rocked against him, clenching down when the tip of him brushed wonderfully deep.

He threw his head forwards and moaned deeply, his hands tightening.

“That’s it,” you teased and Blue bit back a sob of pleasure as you repeated the movement.

You took hold of the back of the chair with one hand for better leverage, the leather groaning under the force of your grip and rocked back and forth again. This time just raising your hips ever so slightly before dropping them back down the length of him.

Blue moaned, “honey,” rolling his head back to rest against the chair and trying to open his eyes, not wanting to miss a single second.

Your walls clenched against him at the pet name, a fresh wave of wetness leaking down his cock and dripping between his balls.

“Honey, please,” he pleaded.

Never in your life did you ever think you’d hear Blue Jones beg.

“Please, please, feels so good,” he bit his lip.

“Yeah?” You quickened your pase, lifting yourself off him slightly higher than before.

“Yes, yes, you’re so wet honey, and, oh fuck!” He sobbed

“And what Blue?”

“Everytime I say honey you, god, you grip me so tight… like a fucking vice honey, ah!” His hips bucked upwards, moving of their own volition.

“Better keep calling me honey then.” You bit back a moan and started to move faster, bouncing on his cock and sobbing as he kept hitting so wonderfully deep. Pleasure began to build along your nerves, no longer allowing you to go slow and teasingly.

You began to chase the sensation desperately, needing to cum again.

“Honey, yes, yes, oh god yes, that’s it, please!” He was so close, building to that perfect crescendo. He took his right hand from your hip and began to rub your clit with his thumb, needing to see you cum once more.

“Blue!” You whine, your thrusts getting sloppy.

“Yes, yes, honey,” he rubbed your clit faster, grabbing your hip tighter with his left and and planting his feet firmly on the floor so he could fuck you properally. “Just a little more, just a little bit more.”

You cried out as you came so hard you nearly blacked out.

Blue groaned, grunting as your walls squeezed him as he bucked into you. He held you tightly, working you through your orgasm and burying his face into your chest, littering you with kisses as he rutted into you like an animal in heat.

He came with a loud moan, your nipple in his mouth, as he pumped you full of his hot, thick cum.

Your breathing started to slow, sweat cooling on your skin.

You expected Blue to push you off him now that he’d finished, or maybe take hold of your throat.

Instead he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he snuggled into your chest.

“You’re so perfect honey, yo-ohshit!” He moaned as your walls fluttered again at the pet name, sending a last shiver of pleasure along his nerves. You body seemingly instant on getting him to spill every last drop inside you.

You move back, thinking you’d hurt him. But he continues to hug you close.

“It’s okay, you just,” he chuckles softly against your chest. “Still squeezing me when I call you… that.”

You bite your lip, running your left hand through his hair. “What?” You tease, a small smile on your face.

He looks up at you, all doe eyes. “Honey.”

You clench around him, having seemingly no say in the matter. Blue bites his lip, ready for it this time and revels in the sensation.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers.

The question would have been almost funny, considering what you’d just done together, but the soft, needy look he gives you makes it anything but.

Your heart melts and you nod as you lean down and kiss him.

His lips are gentle this time, sanguine and slow as he cups your cheek with his right hand.

He’s the one that collects your clothes and helps you dress, placing kisses on every inch of your skin before he covers it up again.

You don’t say another word to each other, but he kisses you knuckles, your palms and then lips before you go.

You tell the others about what happened up to a point. The fictional you stayed hidden under Blue’s desk until he left, stayed undiscovered. You say you didn’t find anything helpful in his office.

The next morning Lilly is in the cafeteria. She had been held in the upper levels, apparently there was another solitary there. Darker and colder. As she regails you all with her story you catch Blue’s eyes across the room.

Neither of you do anything save stare, but it’s like a silent conversation flows through you both.

____________________________________

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