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riality-check · 9 months

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The eagerly awaited part 2 of the DILF!Steve concert saga is here!! Part 1, in case you missed it.

"You're not going."

"Come on! I haven't thrown up in an hour!"

"The drive to the venue is an hour and a half."

"Steve-"

"And if you throw up in my car-"

"Oh my God-"

"I'll kill you."

Steve doesn't need to see Dustin's eye roll in order to feel the full force of it through the phone.

"I'll just kill you. You'll have a headstone within the week that says Here Lies Dustin Henderson: Rightfully Murdered for Puking in Steve Harrington's Car," he continues as he packs Capri-Suns into the cooler for the car ride.

He doesn't remember ever being that thirsty as a kid, but if Anna wants strawberry kiwi, Anna gets strawberry kiwi. It helps that it's Steve's favorite flavor, too.

"I'd need a big ass headstone to fit all of that," Dustin snaps.

"Your big-ass ego would demand no less, shithead," Steve shoots back.

"Swear jar, Daddy!" Anna calls from her room, across the house because while she doesn't listen to Steve when he's right in front of her, she can hear him break the swear jar rule from halfway across the world.

He zips up the cooler, fishes a quarter out of his pocket, and throws it into the half-full soup can next to the stove.

(A quarter doesn't mean much, but Anna doesn't know that. The day Steve teaches that kid about inflation is the day his pockets become permanently empty.)

"Did she just swear jar you?" Dustin asks from over the phone.

"You baited me into it."

"I did no such thing."

Steve rolls his eyes. "You're not coming, though, are you?"

Dustin sighs, and, for all his teasing, Steve does genuinely feel bad. "I still feel like if I breathe wrong, I'll hurl, so, no. I don't think I'll manage the car ride, nevermind the actual show."

"Sorry dude."

"Don't be. Some dickhead will live stream the whole thing on Instagram, anyway. I'll live vicariously through them."

Steve snorts and picks up the cooler. He got Anna dressed beforehand, so it's just a matter of getting her to stop playing with whatever toy she dug up - Play-Doh has been the fixation of the week - in her room so they can go.

"Besides," Dustin continues, and Steve hates where this is going. "Anna loved the show, and you've got a reason-"

"Nope," Steve says, knocking on Anna's door. "Don't finish that sentence."

"All I'm saying-"

"I know what you're gong to say, which means you know my answer. I don't date."

Anna opens her door. From the little Steve can see inside, there are at least three containers of Play-Doh open and strewn across the floor. He thinks her Barbies are involved in it somehow.

"Time to go," Steve says, and he thinks, Please don't let there be Play-Doh in the Barbie hair.

"Five more minutes," Anna tries.

"Nope. Clean up and roll out."

"Hi, Anna," Dustin says through the phone.

"Uncle Dusty!" Anna shrieks, and she starts jumping up and down. "Are you comin', too?"

Dustin sighs, and Steve can't tell if it's at the nickname or if he's still cursing the universe. "No, but you and your dad have a great time, okay?"

"Can you, can you tell Daddy I should get five more minutes?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at her. Anna, to her credit, ignores him wonderfully.

"If you clean up," Dustin says, because he's actually Steve's favorite person right now, "you get to do more headbanging at the concert."

Anna gasps like Steve didn't already tell her that earlier today, and she gets to work on putting her toys away. Steve helps, of course, and he finds that there is, in fact, Play-Doh in two of her Barbies' hair.

Fun. They're going to turn into Buzzcut Barbies when Anna goes to sleep because he can already tell that they are the furthest thing from salvageable.

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Anna in the car, deploying the first two of many strawberry kiwi Capri Suns from the cooler, and making the drive to the venue, which Steve does with minimal road rage and accompanied by the Disney radio station.

Success by all metrics, really.

Dinner might as well be now, so Steve shells out a truly disgusting amount of money for overpriced chicken nuggets and fries at the venue. Anna will only eat half her portion but say she's hungry later, but that's what the snacks and water Steve smuggled in via his jacket are for.

They get to their seats, dinner finished up, just as the lights go down for the first opener. Steve looks to his left, half-expecting Eddie and his friends to be there before remembering that they won't be.

He tries not to feel too disappointed. He fails miserably.

The seat next to him, however, isn't empty. There's a note taped to the back of it, one addressed to Steve and Miss Anna, so Steve feels alright taking and opening it.

At the top, there's a messily scrawled phone number. Underneath, it says:

Here's my number. Probably a bad idea to call with all the noise. Texting works, though you should do that after the show. I'll be a little busy until then.

-Eddie

Steve puts the note in his pocket, puts Anna's ear defenders on, puts his own earplugs in, and looks at the stage, where-

Hang on.

He squints at the stage, where four guys have started playing a song that, frankly, sounds too much like literally all the music Steve listened to yesterday for him to care about all that much. The drummer is pretty small, with wild, curly hair. The bassist looks familiar. The lead singer, who is very talented but not to Steve's personal taste, also looks familiar. And the guitarist-

No way. No way in hell.

It's a total coincidence. Lots of guys have long, curly hair and heavy jewelry and big eyes and are wearing formal wear, for some reason, and catch Steve's eye, and-

"Thank you for such a great welcome!" the guitarist says, and his smile totally isn't doing anything to Steve, thanks very much.

Anna stops moving, where she's standing next to Steve, and climbs up into his lap to get a better look at the stage. She looks out, then back at Steve, then out, then back at Steve, making a face as confused as Steve feels.

Some days, he thinks he ended up with a clone, not a kid.

"I'll get off the mic in a second. I only do the talking because Jeff," the guitarist points at the lead singer, who ducks his head, "is really shy."

Jeff. That name is definitely relevant, but Steve is a permanent resident of denial.

"We fought about what song we were going to include next in our set list, so much so that we didn't decide until yesterday and had to consult a tiebreaker."

Okay, maybe Steve is a less permanent resident of denial than he thought.

"So, thank you to Miss Anna, who did great at headbanging for her first time-"

Anna whips around so fast, her forehead nearly collides with Steve's jaw.

"And to Steve, who's a big fan of American Psycho."

At the song name, the crowd loses their minds, and if Anna wasn't sitting right in front of him, Steve would join them.

Because what the fuck is happening right now?

His question isn't answered. In fact, about five more questions pop up in its stead when, during the bridge of the song, Jeff puts on a clear rain jacket and picks up a prop axe.

Please, God, don't let this traumatize my kid, Steve thinks.

Anna, thankfully, doesn't get scared. When Jeff brings the axe down, again and again, Steve's weirdo daughter fucking smiles. And giggles. It's kind of cute, actually.

When the song ends, she turns back to Steve.

"That's Eddie onstage," Steve says, and saying it, somehow, makes it real.

"I thought so!" Anna says, and she turns back to watch the show. Steve puts an arm around her waist so she doesn't fall off his lap when she bangs her head to the music.

The rest of the songs, in Steve's opinion, are better than the opening song. They're more melodic, which Steve can definitely get behind, and each of them has a gimmick onstage, all based off of various horror movies. It's ridiculous, but also really, really cool.

And Eddie, onstage, because it is the same guy who flirted with him and was so sweet to Anna yesterday, is really, really hot.

Steve has never had a thing for guitarists before. He's never had a thing for musicians before. Hell, until a year ago, he didn't realize he had a thing for men.

Eddie is. Uh. Yeah. Really doing it for him.

Steve doesn't know whether it's his enthusiasm, or the way he moves, or seeing his hair tied up, or the fucking dress pants and suspenders, or just his hands, but he does know he has to get himself in check because this is an all ages show and he's here with his daughter.

He already knows he can't add these songs to his grading playlist, not when they're accompanied by visuals of Eddie playing his guitar.

Sweet Jesus.

"Alright, that's our set!" Eddie says. "Thanks, y'all, for sticking around for us, and let's give it up for the next act!"

The crowd, including Anna and Steve, cheer as they exit and the lights go up.

Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket, fully intending to add Eddie's number to his contacts, and is greeted by not one, not two, but sixteen missed calls from Dustin Henderson.

Naturally, Steve calls him back. "Who died?"

"What the fuck?" Dustin yells, and Steve just puts the phone on speaker to save the rest of his hearing. "Did Eddie fucking Munson just personally thank you from the stage?"

"Swear jar, Uncle Dusty!" Anna says.

"Sorry," Dustin says. "But Steve. Answers. Now."

"How do you even-"

"Instagram live. Is Eddie the guy you were telling me about yesterday?"

Steve takes his phone off speaker. Prior experience tells him that this conversation has a less than zero chance of staying PG, nevermind PG-13.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He is."

"The one who flirted with you, and you forgot to ask for his number."

"Well, I have it now."

"What?" Dustin shrieks, and Steve is incredibly thankful that he didn't take his earplugs out.

"He left me his number on the seat."

"Text him."

"I was going to, until I saw that you called me sixteen times."

"Jesus Christ, Eddie Munson was flirting with you."

Steve rolls his eyes and hands a pack of gummy bears to Anna when she taps his arm. "He could have just been nice. I don't even know if he's into guys."

"Have you looked at him?"

"Wow, Dustybuns, I didn't know you were homophobic."

"I think it's the complete opposite of homophobic to try to get you laid."

"Hanging up!" Steve shouts because a part of him will never see Dustin as any older than thirteen, and no thirteen year old should ever say that.

"Text-"

Steve hangs up the call. "Can I have a gummy bear?"

"No," Anna says, mouth full, in her seat, legs swinging.

"I bought them."

She shrugs. "You gave them to me. Mine now."

Steve stares. She stares right back.

He sighs and opens a new pack of gummy bears.

With his mouth full of sweet Haribo corpses, Steve takes out the note and adds Eddie to his contacts. Before he can overthink it, he sends him a message:

I guess I don't have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we're even on that front, I'm a teacher, and Anna's full time job is preschool.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket and focuses on making this a good experience for Anna, who somehow wormed her way into a conversation with the intimidating-looking couple sitting next to her.

Because it's totally not like a literal rockstar is going to text him back. Right?

Part 3!!

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transmascrage · 1 year

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Video by ErinInTheMorning on TikTok

[Transcript (there's captions on screen but in case you can't turn on audio):

Erin: "File this one away for the transgender history books, whenever they write about our history; today Lindsey Spero, a trans man, stood in front of the Florida Board of Medicine, which was about to vote to medically ban all gender affirming care for trans youth.

He stood there to deliver his testimony, he delivered a little bit of it, but then he took the remainder of his testimony time to stand there and inject his hormone therapy in front of all of them in stunned silence, and then he turned around and raised his fist. Watch this."

Lindsey: "My name is Lindsey Spero, I'm 25 years old, I'm a resident of St. Petersburg, Florida. I'm also transgender.

I am someone who was subjected to treatments that have been questionable, that were mentioned by people like that woman who came up and spoke, I can tell you for a fact that her child is going to grow up hating her.

I'm sure you've heard many stories that sound like mine already, over the last few months my trans siblings and family members have stood before you, put their hearts on full display and vulnerable pleaded with you to listen to our stories and perspectives.

The American Academy of Pediatrics has condemned your actions and our federal government has spoken out against the actions you seek to take regarding the necessary health care for trans youth.

I could stand here and tell you about the times I attempted to end my life because I didn't have access to gender affirming care but I know, I know you don't care. I see you sneering at us while we come here and talk to you.

Instead I'm going to take the rest of my time to demonstrate the sacred and weekly ritual of my shot in front of you, in this body.

My medication is life saving, I will use HRT for the rest of my life, your denial of my need for this medication, doesn't make my existence as a trans person any less real.

I will be giving myself my subcutaneous shot in my stomach. If you have a needle phobia, please look away."

Lindsey injects his T-shot in silence, helped by another person who passes him a needle and the testosterone in its vial.

After finishing, he raises his fist and turns around to the audience.

Lindsey: "Tomorrow and forever."

The crowd cheers and a few people get up to clap.

Erin: "That, that is what I'm talking about! Good job Lindsey! This is the kind of resistance that matters!"

End transcript.]

(As a sidenote, it seems that Lindsey identifies as nonbinary, not necessarily (or exclusively, anyways) as a trans man. Some articles identify him as transmasc but all of his socials state nonbinary.)

#lgbtq #queer community #trans ftm #transmasc #transphobia #trans youth

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

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First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually.

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body.

You pretended to be dead.

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky.

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly.

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands.

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it.

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.”

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up.

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening.

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest.

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort.

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.”

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character.

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it.

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up.

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood.

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?”

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull.

Missions were rarely a failure.

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.”

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?”

“None. Just us.”

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.”

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway.

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it.

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it.

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation.

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room.

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly.

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off.

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin.

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction.

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.”

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue.

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in.

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight.

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends.

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore.

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him. “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh.

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why.

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden.

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions.

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them.

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too.

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue.

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch.

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined.

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you.

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like.

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse.

This couldn’t continue.

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side.

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.”

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air.

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met.

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires.

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?”

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?”

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up.

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.”

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth.

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas.

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless.

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds.

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up.

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though.

On the second week, it got easier.

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area.

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over.

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table.

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally.

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails.

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind.

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you.

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces.

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair.

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse.

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up...

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring.

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!”

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp.

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor.

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers.

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated.

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug.

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly.

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air.

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure.

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.”

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly.

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward.

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game.

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching.

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet.

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table.

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?”

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.”

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you.

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss.

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.”

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it.

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking.

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second.

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos.

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint.

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat.

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages.

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out.

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.”

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?”

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room.

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out.

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently.

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.”

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation.

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.”

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back.

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat.

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney.

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly.

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful.

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand.

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing.

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.”

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair.

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back.

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine.

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts.

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high.

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river.

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask.

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare.

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it.

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh.

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge.

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already.

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk.

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…”

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be.

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.”

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip.

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able.

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second.

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table.

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion.

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?”

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer.

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix.

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob.

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.”

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality.

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer.

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.”

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own.

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies.

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep.

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.”

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though.

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect.

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt.

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you.

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back.

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw.

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms.

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile.

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.”

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting.

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial.

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action.

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot.

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad.

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you.

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute.

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

TAGS:

@emerald-valkyrie , @anna-banana27 , @blueoorchid , @cryingnotcrying , @writeforfandoms , @homicidal-slvt , @jade-jax , @frazie99 , @elmoees , @littlemisstrouble , @alpineswinter , @phoenixhalliwell , @idocarealot , @lavalleon , @facelessmemories , @h-leigh, @20forty9 , @glitter-anon-asks , @emily-who-killed-a-man , @neelehksttr, @aeneanc , @escapefromrealitysm , @i-d-1-0-t , @pparcxysm , @hawkscanendme , @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney , @sanfransolomitatm , @maelstrom007 , @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet , @pheobees , @glitterypirateduck , @uselsshuman , @fan-of-encouragement , @halfmoth-halfman , @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger , @kopatych11 , @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop , @knightofsexyness , @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons , @330bpm-whiplash , @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu , @tiredmetalenthusiast

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angelkissiies · 1 year

Text

pretty little things

abby anderson x reader x ellie williams

cw : modern!au , hockey!abby , dealer!ellie , ditzy/girly!reader, mentions of drug use, polyamory, threesome, degradation, praise, use kink, dumbification, mind breaking, subspace, oral (f!receiving), slight mean!dom energy, other things ? maybe ? NSFR

wc : 5.1K

a / n : kinda went a little crazy with this one. my bad ! if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, SQUINT

“Hi, Ellie.” You smiled, holding your skates close to your chest as you leaned against her door frame. You were no stranger to the girl, a long-time customer, but also a close friend. Those words didn’t quite equate to the situationship you found yourself in, considering that you were already taken by the captain of the hockey team, not that she minded.

The brunette bit back a smile, turning her key in the lock before pushing the door open, turning on her heel to look at you. “What did I tell you about pretty girl discounts? Bad for business.” She teased, waving you in with a playful eye roll, her words were empty- seeing as she found herself rarely charging you. “Usual?”

You practically skipped into her room, bubbling with excitement as you placed yourself onto her futon. “Actually, I'm not here to buy-,” You paused, recanting the statement before continuing. “Not yet at least.” You come here with a mission in mind, well, more so a request.

“What’s going on with you, doll?” She asked, raising an eyebrow as she pressed the door closed, dragging her conversed feet on the carpet as she came to sit in the chair adjacent to you. Her hair was tossed into a messy half-up half-down bun, making strands fall and frame her face as she leaned forward to assess the situation further, hands rubbing on the rough material of her jeans. “Is it Abby? Is she not cool with this anymore?”

It was something she’d come to fear, seeing as most girlfriends wouldn't be so willing to let their girl get with someone else, though the past few months had flown by issue free- Abby joining the two of you on outings when she was able to. Given the history they had with each other, it was tense but bearable, Ellie finding ways to push down her attraction to the burly blonde- though secretly hoping that she’d make another move. But, she never batted so much as an eyelash to the triangle you three had going on, it terrified Ellie at first- thinking that somehow Abby was going to find a way to scare her off campus, seeing as she knew about her dealing. That day never came, which made her suspicious of the way you were acting now.

You placed the skates down on her couch, leaning forward in a way that crinkled the pristine white of your uniform- making it look yellow in the sunlight. “Actually, it’s quite the opposite.” You hummed excitedly, eyes darting down to her lips momentarily before you corrected yourself, moving back up to meet her hazy eyes. “We talked and..” You trailed off, gauging her reaction.

“And? And what?” Ellie huffed, brows knitting together.

You giggled quietly, lowering your voice as if someone could hear you. “She wants to make it official. You, me, her. Together.” You gushed, an excited smile splayed across your blushed lips. It was something you’d been talking to the both of them about forever, knowing the residual feelings they both held for each other after their not-so-secret fling freshman year, so to say you were excited was an understatement. “We’re gonna have dinner at my place tonight, to talk it over some more.” You spoke the last part like an offer, not wanting her to feel obliged to come if she wasn’t ready.

Ellie gulped slightly, her lips parting as she searched for the words to say. It had been so long since she’d even considered the option of being in a polyamorous relationship with the two of you. It crossed her mind, of course, seeing as you tended to bring it up, but she didn't think it was possible- mainly the fact that she just assumed Abby hated her. It made the most sense in her mind, why wouldn't she hate her? Ellie was the reason she was outed as a lesbian, not that it was completely her fault but ‘let's fuck in the locker room and hope nobody comes in’ definitely had something to do with it. That was the end of their fling, the feelings just left to rot away- though in Ellie’s case, they did quite the opposite. They ended up growing into something untameable. “A-are you sure? That’s really unlike her-,” She began, only to be cut off by your hand coming to rest on top of her now sweaty one.

“She asked for this specifically, I didn’t bring it up.” You clarified, watching as her emerald eyes lit up at the statement, though she quickly tried to cover the reaction by looking away. You bit back a smile, squeezing her hand gently. “Please come?”

She nodded, almost too quickly, making herself dizzy as she stood with you. “Okay, yeah, I’ll come.” She spoke, giving your hand a small squeeze, shaking her head slightly as she tried to snap out of the anxious haze she’d dropped into. “Uh, anyways, you said not yet– should I bring a couple tonight? Is Abby,” She paused, words tightening as she said her name. “Uh, still cool with it?” She glanced towards the couch, where your skates rested, before grabbing them and holding them out towards you.

You gave her a smile, nodding as you took tiny back steps towards the door– the sharp beeping of your watch now telling you, you were late. “Yes, please. That would be great, Els.” You hummed, taking them and practically bounding to the door, sliding out before you could let yourself get more distracted. The small squeak of a ‘thank you’ echoed as you disappeared down the hall, leaving the brunette in silence.

What the hell?

The day passed unreasonably fast, Ellie doing everything in her power to slow it down, resorting to working on physics homework– which only made things worse. For once, she actually understood the lesson and suddenly she was left with a stack of finished papers and a dinner date in half an hour. Her anxiety shooting through the roof as she paced her bedroom, a pocket full of weed and throat full of bile– there was no way she saw out of this. As much as she wanted, needed, to believe that Abby really wanted her again– something inside of her was convinced this was still some kind of sick joke, a prank orchestrated in rebuttal to the hell she’d ended up putting the blonde through.

A buzz lit up her phone in the dim light of her room, the message reading ‘Are you on the way? I’m making dinner now. Abby’s gonna be getting here in like ten minutes, her practice ran over.’

Ellie’s heart leapt, pushing her into action, as her feet carried her into the living room– grabbing the nearest jacket and leaving her dorm in a rush of panicked puffs of breath.

‘Yeah, leaving now! See you soon, doll.’ She rushed, heart hammering as her shaky hands fumbled with the lock on her door, finally managing to click it into place before speeding off down the hall. It was a fifteen-minute walk to your place off campus, making her internally kick herself for waiting so long, now having to be the last one arriving– something she knew Abby would notice.

Fifteen minutes, which meant 900 seconds for her to change her mind and turn around.

899..

Your practice had gotten cut short that afternoon, allowing you to go shopping and gather all the necessities for dinner– for that you were thankful, so as you bustled around the kitchen in a pair of shorts and a– painfully small, as your mother would say– baby tee, it was all coming together just as it should’ve. The smell of the cake you’d started baking on a whim filling the entire house with a soft vanilla scent, making you hum in appreciation. It was a welcome distraction, allowing you to focus on something other than the growing anxiety in your tummy as you awaited the arrival of your girls.

As if clockwork, the front door lock snapped out of place and you heard the heavy footsteps of none other than Abby coming down the hallway. “Pretty?” She called out, a bag of sports equipment tucked under her arm. “Man, it smells really good in here.” She commented, turning the corner to halt in the doorway of the kitchen, letting the bag come down onto the floor with an obnoxious ‘thump.’ “Oh wow.”

You turned on your heel, a smile pulling at your plush lips as you beckoned her inside. “How was practice, Bee?” You asked, wiping your hand on the half apron hanging around your waist before reaching out to her– pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. “Missed you!”

The blonde chuckled, pulling you impossibly closer, resting her head atop yours. She released a tense breath she’d been holding all day, the situation at hand being the reason she’d been made to stay so late at practice. She’d been so in her head, she’d caused the team to fall behind, therefore she opted to stay behind for everyone and pick up– that usually being a team effort, but she took it on in an attempted apology. “Missed you too,” She sighed, strong arms holding you flush to her chest. “Practice was good, long is all.”

You nodded, pressing a tiny kiss to her chest as you pulled away to look up at her. “Are you sure you still wanna do this? We can wait if you’re not ready.” You reminded, taking in the lines of stress pulling at her eyes. “Ellie is practically shitting herself about this, so nobody would be upset.” You chuckled, alluding to the mess of a text you’d received just before Abby arrived– something about being stuck behind some college tour and being sorry for being late– not that you minded, you thought it was cute.

Abby perked up at your words, taking a small gulp as she imagined the girl on her way over. There was nothing else she wanted quite like to call this all off, the idea of actually getting a chance to tell Ellie how she felt sent a wave of nausea over her, it had been so long that she’d begun to fear that the girl had lost the feelings they shared– that was scarier than anything that could’ve come out of tonight. “H-how did she seem?” She asked, words falling upon deaf ears as a knocking echoed down the hall– making her stomach lurch.

“That’s Els!” You giggled, tearing yourself from her grip. “Could you put something on the tv? So you guys won't be bored while I finish up?” You practically skipped down the hallway, slippers almost making you slip as you lost traction, quickly making a move to fix the flyaways that fell from behind your ears before jerking the door open to reveal a slightly damp Ellie. Your mouth fell open, reaching out to pull her inside as you noticed the heavy rain that had begun sometime between Abby’s arrival and Ellie’s.

She quirked a small awkward smile as she shuffled inside, instinctually kicking off her waterlogged converse. “Hey,” She began, glancing around inside for Abby before settling back in on you and the, now, contemplative look on your face.

“C’mon, there is absolutely no way you can stay in those clothes. You are gonna get so sick.” You tutted, practically dragging her from the door and to your bedroom across the hall. If there was one thing you knew about the girl, it was that her immune system reminded you of that of a victorian child– frail and pretty much useless. “You can borrow my clothes, okay?”

Ellie opened her mouth to object but decided against it as a chill entered her spine, not wanting to fall victim to another cold. Yes, the idea of wearing pieces from your– mostly– pink wardrobe was unsettling. But no, she wasn’t about to say that to you– she knew it would hurt your feelings. So she watched as you dug through a basket of folded clothes on your bed, freeing a (thankfully) non-cropped white shirt and a pair of cookie monster printed pajama shorts– pushing them towards her with a triumphant smile.

“These will definitely fit you! So, change and then meet in the living room? Abby’s putting something on to watch.” You hummed, stepping back to the door to give her some privacy. “If you need some new socks, you know where they are.” With that, you backed out, letting the door come to a soft close behind you.

The girl took a small breath, digging the baggy of pre-rolls from her pocket– thankfully double-bagged to account for the weather. “Shit.” She hissed, tossing them down on the plush white of your blankets– the contrast almost enough to make her laugh if she wasn’t so nervous. She shrugged herself out of her shirt, letting it fall to the ground with a moist plop. This was the worst day for this, not only was she late but she was now stuck wearing a pair of your pajamas– she almost threw up at the idea of Abby seeing her like this. Sure, it wasn’t her fault but as she wrestled with her jeans– she could've sworn her subconscious was laughing at her. “How the fuck did this happen.” She spoke into the empty room, sliding into the shorts you’d given her and letting them hang on her hips loosely.

She ducked down to peer into your vanity mirror, exhaling in a short puff before navigating to the door– hand beginning to gain a tremor. This was it. Leaving this room meant accepting whatever fate was awaiting her outside. “Shit, shit, shit.” She whispered as she opened the door, exiting the room and b-lining to the living room.

Abby was mindlessly scrolling through movies you’d saved to her watch list, hair now released from its tormenting braid. “Pretty, are you sure you don't need any help?” She called out, feeling useless as she just sat unmoving before the rapidly flickering screen. “I really don’t mi–,” Her words were cut short as she watched Ellie appear in the doorway. “Hi.”

She froze in her step, giving the blonde an awkward smile. “Hey, Abby.” She said simply, tugging the ends of the shirt down further to account for the lack of coverage on her legs as she glanced around for a place to sit– but only coming up on the cushion beside the burly woman. “Do you mind if i–?” She asked, nodding towards the space next to her.

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead.” Abby responded, scooting over to give her some more space, tearing her eyes from the girls in fear she might see right through the ‘chill girl’ act she was putting on. Her hands came to rest on her lap, the remote almost completely forgotten, wringing her fingers together anxiously. “Nice outfit.” She joked halfheartedly, giving a small nod to the tiny cookie print poking out from under her shirt.

Ellie let a small laugh pull from her lips, the anxiety easing slightly as she found some common ground. “Yeah, thanks. It’s sesame street couture.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth, pulling her legs up to cross under her as she sat down. “Probably should’ve brought an umbrella but, you know.”

The blonde nodded, biting the inside of her cheek before responding. “Or, uh, you could call me.” She offered, glancing over towards the girl for a second– their eyes meeting. “I could pick you up next time.”

She felt her heart clench, a sudden urge to explode entering her stomach. “No, no. That’s okay, I don’t want to bother you.” She could’ve died on the spot, the breaking in her voice betraying her private thoughts, face flushing. This was so stupid, she felt so fucking stupid, here Abby was being the most relaxed person alive and she was stumbling over simple sentences just by being in the girls' vicinity.

“It’s no problem to me, really, just call.” Abby pushed, eyes shifting down to the girl's lips before she corrected herself— snapping back up to meet her eyes. Something inside of her felt familiar, an age-old ache that arose in her chest at the lingering glances and nervous laughter “Ellie, I—,”

“Abby—,”

They both paused, incredulous laughter falling from their lips at the coincidence.

“Sorry, you go first.”

“No, no. I insist.”

Ellie reached over to punch the girl playfully on the shoulder when her wrist was caught in Abby’s hand— the sudden change in her approach sent a lump into her throat. Did she do something wrong? Was she moving too fast? “Oh, I’m sorry,” she began, coughing slightly to dispel the tension that now surrounded them. “I didn’t mean to—,”

Abby couldn’t resist it anymore, using her grip on the girl's wrist to jerk her forward— their lips crashing together in a surprised mess of spit and teeth. She’d gone so long under the anxiety of being around Ellie that she’d begun to forget the longing she had for her. Though, upon seeing her it was like that spark had relit itself— sending an undying hunger into her stomach as she begged for just a single taste of what their love was. “Fuck, sorry.” She huffed, trying to pry herself away from the stunned girl before her.

The brunette watched, bewildered, as Abby inched away from her lips— hands moving up to secure in her black t-shirt. She pulled her back down and onto her lips, muscles relaxing as she finally realized how badly she needed her. This was what she’d been searching for— no amount of girls or parties or weed had ever filled the gaps in her chest like she could. She sunk back against the arm of the couch, hands moving fervently across the solid surface of her chest, lips bruising from the force of the kiss.

You’d finally taken the cake from the oven, its slight golden color making a pleased smile arise on your lips as you replaced the empty oven rack with a small casserole dish containing what was going to be the night's dinner. Your fingers hovered over the dials, lip pulling from between your teeth as you clicked it to 400 degrees, hoping that it could be done in thirty minutes.

The house felt a little too quiet all of a sudden, making your brows knit together as you considered the possibility that Ellie had left. Surely that wasn’t the reason for the silence, you’d have heard the door— right?

You abandoned your post in the kitchen, untying your apron and leaving it on the counter as you stalked into the hall— glancing down towards your bedroom door. It was closed, as it usually was, but it occurred to you that you hadn’t heard Ellie come out. Maybe she got cold feet, you reasoned, tiptoeing down to the room and giving the door a small knock.

Silence.

“Ellie?” Nothing.

You pushed the door open and took in the emptiness of the room, eyes landing on the pile of wet clothes she’d left on your floor before letting a soft breath of relief fall from your mouth. She was still here. You locked in on the baggy of pre-rolls you’d asked her to bring and your face lit up, bouncing over to the bed to pick them up before practically running down into the living room.

You’d not had a second to speak before your eyes widened, landing on the two girls in a messy battle for dominance. The sight sent an ache directly into your cunt, your legs unconsciously squeezing together as you tried to silently back out of the doorway. That was until you tripped over the edge of the carpet and landed— loudly— on the plush chair near the door.

Abby’s head snapped up, her eyes blown with a primal lust as her lips pulled back into a slight smirk. “Little pervert, aren’t you?” She teased, flushed face coming back down to peer at Ellie— who was catching her breath. “We have an audience.”

The brunette pushed herself up on her elbows to look at you, tongue darting out to wet her lips as she smiled. “Let’s not disappoint her then.” She spoke, eyes eating up the slight tremor in your legs as you clenched them together tighter. “Let’s give her what she wants.”

Your face burned bright red, the transparency of your actions making you feel dumb under their gaze. Yet, even as they tore their attention from you— divulging back into their desperate pursuit of each other, you couldn’t stop the ache growing in your stomach. “M’god.” You choked out, quiet enough to avoid drawing their attention off of each other. You could feel the warmth spreading in your panties, fabric sticking to your cunt uncomfortably as you rubbed your legs together.

Abby was right, you must have been a pervert. No normal person would get this turned on at the sight of two girls kissing. They weren’t even doing anything, just kissing— and here you were, shorts beginning to feel damp from how wet you’d managed to get just from the sight. Your hand inched closer to your waistband, unable to shake the overwhelming urge to touch yourself, feeling beyond filthy.

You felt eyes land back on you, your hand stopping just as your fingers broke the waistband and tore your mindless gaze from the flexing of Abby’s arms as they caged Ellie beneath her.

The girl had a devious look in her eyes, giving you a small nod of encouragement as she watched your fingers disappear under the fabric of your shorts— nipples erect under the exposing t-shirt, it was like you were made to be seen. “Fuck, she’s so pretty.” Ellie panted, scooting up to a sitting position, Abby’s knee putting delicious friction on her cunt as she shifted. “Look at her, Abby.”

Abby’s eyes lifted to take you in, a familiar flush in your cheeks as your fingers came into contact with your slick. “She gets wet so fast, bet she’s soaked.” She stated, fingers tensing in the upholstery of the couch. If it was up to her, she’d have you wedged between the two of them already, but it wasn’t just up to her anymore. It was up to them.

“You like seeing us together, silly girl?” Ellie asked, her hands coming to cup Abby’s chest, using her two fingers to roll her hardened nipples.

The blonde hissed, a broken moan slipping from her mouth as she broke her gaze from you and redirected it to Ellie. There was a moment of silent communication, a couple beats passing before Abby spoke. “Come here, pretty.”

You whimpered slightly, fingers slipping from your shorts as you scrambled to get back onto your feet. When Abby spoke, you listened. “Y-yes?” You said quietly, bright eyes glazed over with lust as you tried to soothe the pulsing in your stomach.

Ellie leaned back, opening up the middle seat to you, her body trapping you on one side— Abby’s trapping you on the other until you were flush against both of them. “How would you like,” she began, pushing your hair back from your neck— dipping down to press a couple opened mouth kisses to the burning flesh. “— to have us both, right now?”

Your eyes widened, your mouth opening and closing without a sound coming out. There was something so dizzying about the situation, making your mind leave your body as you glanced between the two of them.

“C’mon, pretty baby, gotta use your words.” Abby’s hand snaked between your legs, cupping the soaked crotch of your thin shorts, a sinful groan escaping her lips. “Just say it and you won’t have to think anymore, promise. We’ll take care of you.”

The feeling sent a pang of desperation into your cunt, causing you to nod fervently. “Yes, pleasepleaseplease.” You gushed, hands coming to ravel in Abby’s stretched t-shirt, mind swimming as she dipped down to catch your lips in a kiss.

You felt hands everywhere. Having the two of them touching you in sync was like winning some type of sexual lottery— feeling their hot touches burn into your skin. You shouldn’t have been so easy, so messy, for them and you knew that very well, but you couldn’t help the mindset that seeped in with the slightest glimpse of their dominance. It was a drug.

Ellie’s hand dipped under the hem of your shorts, and then your panties, before coming to drag two fingers over your swollen clit. She pulled her lip in between her teeth, stopping disgustingly pornographic noises from leaving her mouth as she felt her hand get coated in your arousal. “Good fucking god,” She scoffed, letting her fingers begin to massage the puffed ball of nerves. “You could be a pornstar, doll.”

Your hips bucked into her fingers, craving more of what she was dishing out. A small gasp caused you to break your kiss with Abby, the noise eliciting from the girl behind you stuffing two fingers into your cunt. Your walls contracted around her at the sudden intrusion, slick dripping down her palm as she drove her fingers in and out of your drooling cunt. “Oh, god, Els.” You whined, letting your face fall flush with Abby’s chest.

The blonde paused for a moment before a wicked idea came into mind, her body peeling itself from yours as she stood up by the couch— unbuttoning her jeans. Her fingers moved quickly, discarding them by the coffee table before winding her fingers in your free-flowing hair and pushing you down onto your hands. “Such a dumb girl,” she tsked, settling onto the couch in front of you with her legs propped open, fingers dragging down to pull her soaked panties to the side. “You think you can make me cum, pretty?”

You nodded quickly, chest heaving as you crumpled under the pressure of Ellie’s fingers in your pulsing hole. “C-can. I can.” You shuddered, feeling the girl's fingers curl into your g-spot. The sight of the girl in front of you was enough to make your mouth water, her fingers now spreading the sticky folds for you.

“Show me.”

Ellie could’ve cum herself from the sight. Your back was arched in a way she’d only ever seen in porn, mouth now latched onto Abby’s weeping cunt as you struggled to eat her out through your whiny moans. It was like a wet dream she’d conjured up had actually panned out, the sudden realization that it was real making her clench around nothing. “Fucking hell.” She groaned, grabbing your free hand to force down her own boxers— your curious fingers coming to press into her clit. “Goddamn it, gentle, stupid.” She hissed, her words coming out harsher than she intended— but considering the way you clenched around her fingers, she took it as a good sign. “You like that? Want me to be mean to you?”

Abby’s eyes rolled back at the desperate licks reverberating with moans, the sensation going directly to her clit. Her hands wound in your hair, hips grinding down onto your mouth. “Yeah, she fucking like that.” She choked out, legs trembling. “Stupid girl likes to be bullied, gets her wet.”

You were seeing stars, the combination of Abby’s arousal on your tongue and Ellie’s fingers in your cunt were enough to overstimulate you into an empty space of submission. You struggled to keep up on Ellie’s clit, faltering with every hard thrust of her fingers, though you kept being snapped back into pace with the buck of her hips against your hand— allowing yourself to be used by them for their pleasure.

“Just like that, doll.” Ellie rasped, guiding your fingers into her own cunt, practically riding them with how hard her hips were jerking.

You dipped your tongue into Abby’s slit, using your nose to nudge her clit, feeling her thighs tense around your head. It was her telltale sign that she was close, hips jerking up to grind against your face.

A sharp moan rolled off of her lips as she squeezed her thighs together, trapping you in her cunt as she came, her cum coating your mouth and chin.

Ellie ground down against your digits, feeling the band rising in her stomach, chasing the climax she so desperately needed— her slim fingers driving in and out of your cunt despite the floaty feeling filling her head as she grew closer to orgasm. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.” She groaned, her head falling back as she fucked herself on your fingers, cunt pulsing.

You felt Abby’s legs relax, her flushed face coming into view as she panted— eyes cast down to take in the sight of you. “Good girl,” she praised, raising her hand to wipe the cum from your lips with a swipe of her thumb, before bringing the digit to her lips and tasting herself— making you whine. “Keep being good ‘n make Ellie cum.”

You nodded, eyes completely blown as you curled your fingers into her spongy spot, tongue darting out to collect the slick remaining on your lips. The feeling of tightness grew in your tummy as your body trembled under the pressure, a bubbling sensation beginning to spill over as your fingers spasmed inside of her— mouth falling open as your cunt clenched her slim fingers in between soft walls.

Ellie gasped, thighs clenching around your hand as her band snapped, a gush of liquid soaking your hand as she leaned against the back of the couch slightly for support. “Oh, fuck.” She sputtered, hair sticking to her forehead with sweat.

You slumped slightly, arms giving out beneath you, making your face come to rest on Abby’s bare thigh as she rubbed your hair gently. You didn’t dare to speak, fearing the words would come out as meaningless babble, eyes fluttering with contentment as you felt Ellie’s fingers slip from inside of you.

“Wait,” Ellie spoke suddenly, making a show out of taking a deep inhale, her face going pale. “Does anyone else smell that?”

Abby perked up, adjusting her underwear as she took a deep breath. “Oh shit!” She half laughed, sliding out from beneath you to dart into the kitchen. Much to her dismay, her speculations proved to be correct— a thick trail of smoke coming from the oven. “Ellie, uh, grab my phone and order in... I don't think this is salvageable.” She called into the living room, using your discarded apron to waft the smoke out of the room, making sure to click the oven off.

Your eyes went wide, sense returning to you in the shock of the moment, searching around frantically as you dropped from subspace. “Dinner! I-I ruined dinner,” You began, looking up to the girl as she spun you around to face her— hands cupping your cheeks. “Els, I ruined it.”

She shook her head, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “No, doll. You didn’t ruin anything.” She affirmed, the pad of her thumb caressing your flushed cheeks. “You fixed something much more important.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you did.”

5K notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 8 months

Note

Smutty part two of the hand to hand combat fic plz

A/N: Your wish is my command! I think a lot of people were frustrated at where I left the first part off lol, so here's a special treat for everyone who lowkey hated me after that lmao. Enjoy! 18+ MINORS DNI Also it is a crime that there aren't more gifs of Spencer wet, I have used most of them ㅠㅠ

You can read the first part here!

Warnings: shower sex, fingering, suggestive washing idk, Intercrural sex (he fucks the gap between her thighs for a while), no contraception, PinV sex, slight cum play? I guess?

You can also find my masterlist here, and if you enjoy my 18+ works, I'm partaking in kinktober, and you can find out about all of my plans here :]

As you washed off the day's sweat, standing in the shower rooms of the FBI gym, you cursed the gods above for making you such a coward.

If you'd been bolder during your sparring session with Spencer, you could've ended the day in a much more pleasurable way, or you'd at least have the memory of whatever you'd do to aid your fantasies. You thought back to your humbling defeats of earlier that day. You really thought you could get the upper hand on Reid in at least one of your rounds, but no. He’d got the jump on you all three times, leaving you squirming under his touch on the mat as he enjoyed his defeats.

The second-round had been close, having the initial upper-hand being in the assailant role, but he’d used his extra height to throw you off balance, pinning you to the ground from behind, his hands trapping yours against your lower back. You’d blushed at the compromising position, your ass raised suggestively, his bodyweight pushed on top of yours, crotch to your centre, as you tried stay calm despite the very thin materials of both of your work out gears that separated you.

Not that you were complaining about the extra contact, but you weren’t beneath using it as an excuse for your loss. In your final round, he’d let you think you hand the upper hand for a second, teasing you about enjoying the view from your place above him, straddling his waist as you pinned him down. By that point, you were beyond horny, reaching near orgasmic levers of desperation to feel him push up into you, and he’d let you enjoy the feeling of your core grinding into him for a few minutes. Just long enough that no one else would notice that your movements weren’t simply struggles to keep him pinned. Then, he’d gone and ruined it by thrusting his hips up quickly and using the momentum and your shock to buck you off to the side, returning you to your earlier pinned pose. Despite the losses, you couldn’t really find much else to complain about other than the fact that you hadn’t kissed him right then and there, having not thrown caution to the wind.

With each pulse of water from the shower head, you tried to clear your head, but he'd consumed your thoughts. You didn't think you wanted him this badly, but apparently one touch was all it took for you to become aware of the desire you had for him. You let your own hands trail between your legs as you decided to deal with your bodies pent up frustrations.

The door to the bathroom opened, though, just when you were about to get going and you had to pull your hand away as you called out to your new friend.

"Pen? That you? God I'm so fucking sweaty from that work out." You laughed a little as you greeted her, but the other person didn't make any other noises, stopping dead in their tracks.

"Y/N?" Somehow your blood ran cold as your body heated up.

"Spencer? What are you…?" You whipped your head around to get a look at him over the glass shower stall door, pulling your hands over your chest, reflexively.

"Morgan said the men's showers were broken, and he was heading home to shower. But I can't sit for that long on the subway without getting rid of all this sweat. He said there'd be no one else in here since we stayed so late…. I can… I can leave if you need me to?"

"No! No, it's okay, it's not like we're using the same shower or anything, and I don't want you to feel so… Uncomfortable."

He thanked you, then slipped into a stall a three away from your own, as you tried your best not to watch the flex of his arms as he firmly gripped his towel around himself.

Turning back to your own shower, you decided you needed to speed it up, actually get on with it so you could escape this awkward, tempting situation. You were almost sure this was some kind of divine punishment. You lathered up your hair and began to massage your head when the water suddenly ran so cold it burned.

"Ah, shit," you whimpered out as you ran from the water as quickly as possible.

"Um, Spencer?"

"Y-Yeah," he responded, having heard your moans and immediately perked his head up.

"Your shower stall, it's the second from the door right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Shit, I should've mentioned something," you ran a hand through your hair as you turned off your shower. "That one doesn't work too well, when you use hot water in that one for some reason, it makes the rest of these showers run cold for the rest of the day."

"Oh, I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't realise."

"No, it's good, I guess it's just cold shower time for me now." You sighed in a huff of annoyance, and turned your shower back on.

"Do you… Do you want to come and use this one? My water's still hot and the cold water really won't be good for relaxing your muscles after all that work."

"With you?" Your eyes meet his over the walls of your shower stall and you try not to sound too eager. Maybe this could be your chance after being such an idiot earlier.

"Yeah, I guess. I still need to, you know, wash up?"

You nodded at him then, and began collecting your things, your towels in your hands covering your sensitive areas, but only just as you stepped into his space.

He pressed himself against one of the walls as you entered, doing his best to cover his cock with his hands, but failing pretty miserably. You shot a single look down there, hoping he didn't notice. He was hard, and God did you want to help him out.

But unsure of how to broach the topic, you ignored it and put your things down, before turning in to face the shower. A little sign of contentment fell over you as you felt the heat against your skin again, body relaxing as you began washing off your hair once again.

You felt him move until he was a shadow at your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin.

"Y/N, let me help you clean your back. I don't want you to flare up that arm injury, and you're not reaching that well."

"What?" Ill advisedly, you turn to face him. His eyes trail over your body, landing on the swell of your chest as you stand only millimeters from touching. Gently dragging his eyes back up, he repeats his plea, and turns you around, grabbing your body wash.

"Trust me, I'll help." But you know this isn't going to do any good easing the tension in your body, his hands on you being as distracting as they were. You almost jusmo a little when his bare hands finally come down on your waist.

"S-Spencer I have a loofah!" You almost moan out as he begins to rub circles into your skin with his fingers spread. He's closer now, and with his hands out of the way. You can feel his cock, bare against your ass, twitching as you realise he's getting a lot of pleasure out of this.

"Do you know how much bacteria can live on one of those things? You wanted to get clean, right?" It's all you can do not to buck back into him as he releases the words, hands coming up to your shoulders as he works his strength into your skin. His hands feel so good against you, that you barely notice them slipping around your front, as he begins to work on the plains of your stomach as well.

You throw your head back against his chest in pleasure as he slips higher and higher, hands eventually cupping your breasts as he slowly lathers them up, taking his time to feel every single inch of your skin. You whimper in your pleasure, and you hear his heavy breathing similarly pick up.

"Spencer…" You don't know what your words are asking, begging for, but it's clear he does, as his hands spread. One goes up to your neck, wrapping around you tightly as you gasp out a breath, the other washing hanging in the air as he rids it of soap before trailing down between your legs.

His fingers find your clit and you whimper.

"That's it baby, I'm just gonna help you get clean, okay? Gonna make you feel good, too." You nod at his words, giving him the silent confirmation he needs to press his cock in between your thighs and start rubbing it up against you, not yet pushing it in. You're pushing your ass back into him now as he starts to fuck the folds of your sweet cunt, writhing in pleasure everytime his tip catches on your hole, pleasure rolling off your tongue in waves.

His hand on your neck keeps you from gaining volume, keeping you grounded as he gets you close to that euphoric bliss. You're desperate to actually feel him inside you though, squirming in the hopes that one of his thrusts will accidentally land on target.

"Spencer, please…" You know what you want now, and you're desperate for him to listen, as you turn your head to the side, grabbing the back of his own as you pull him down for a sloppy kiss. His hips still as he falls into the kiss, tongue dragging over your lips and begging for entrance. His hand stays on your clit though, and within a few more rubs you feel yourself twitch in his arms, fully held up by his hand on your neck.

"Spencer, please, need you…"

"Are you sure, Y/N? This is still a public bathroom, and I don't want you to think you have to do anything just bec-" You cut him off with another kiss, and that's all he needs before he's pressing you back into the shower stall, wrapping your legs around his hips and pushing his cock inside of you.

You pulled his lips down to yours again and again, desperate to taste him, shower abandoned behind you. His pace picked up and soon he was slamming into you, with the full force of his body, the weight that had earlier been used to pin you down now being used to pleasure you to the fullest.

He pressed his forehead against yours, letting his eyes fall to the place where your two bodies met, his grunts filling the space as you tried your best to bite your tongue. You knew that if you let yourself be as loud as you could've been in that moment, someone would definitely notice.

"Just like that, Spencer, fuck, just like that." Your hips bucked wildly against his as he pulled your other leg up and around him, holding you fully off the ground as he continued his movements.

You gripped his back, letting your nails find any purchase they could, dragging scratches down his skin, marking him as yours. You didn't feel so bad about the pain you must've been dealing him though, not when his hands were leaving red handprints on your hips from his tight grip, the sharp discomfort only fuelling your passion.

"Spence, I'm… Fuck I'm close." Your head slumped into his neck.

"Cum for my, Y/N, need to feel you clench around my cock." He grunted, and somehow your body listened to his demands perfectly, spilling over the edge with his next thrust.

He moaned out quickly, lowering your legs to the floor, still holding you up, as he pulled out and stroked his cock a few more times. His white release painted both of your stomachs with his climax, and you fell against each other in your bliss, trying to both gain back your normal heart rate and calm your breath.

"Spencer, I think we need to get back in the shower," you smiled up at him, and dragged him back over to it as he flushed, not finding the words needed to apologise for his mess.

You pulled him in for a kiss under the water and mentally thanked Morgan for putting you through hell that day. He pulled away from you to attempt to talk, but you didn't want to let him.

"You know," he started, but you tried to shut him up again, wanting desperately to feel his lips right back on yours.

"Y/N, please," he laughed pulling your head away from him as you whined out childishly.

"You know, Morgan was lying about us needing to do this physical thing." Your eyes bulged at the confession, as you tried to stammer out a reply.

"What? I… What?"

"He pulled the same act a year or so ago, too. Y/N, Penelope is never in the field, she doesn't have to do physical training, and we both have enough case hours to cover any further requirements."

"So he… ThatThat son of a bitch." You muttered angrily to yourself as he ran a hand through your still damp hair, smiling down on you peacefully.

"Wait, Spencer… If you knew that he was making this whole thing up, why did you go along with it?"

"Needed an excuse." He pulled you in for another kiss, this one slow and languid, as you felt him twitch to life again at your thigh.

"An excuse for what?" You moaned out as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving behind a trail of love bites you were sure would bloom into purple bruises, just another decoration for your neck alongside his handprint.

"An excuse to touch you. You're very good at following professional boundaries, you know?" You laughed at him once more and let him pull you close into him again. It took you an extra hour to shower that day, but it was worth every second.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #maturereiding

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dcxdpdabbles · 1 month

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Excuse me? I really love your work and I was just wondering if we can get another chapter of Passion for Fashion?? I really love that but no rush whether or not u wanna. (Also, I'd love to see the Batfam or croc or anyone be educated WHAT KC actually is lololol I just think it would be fun.)

Danny stares at the man across from him with barely concealed bemusement. Red Robin hides behind his menu, muttering about all the pizza toppings.

It seemed pineapple was a must, and he fought not to wrinkle his nose as various people shot their table side glances. He's noticed the staring since they changed, but Danny is tired of the lingering gawking.

He gets that his date looks suspicious in his get-up, but it's not the worst.

They had to stop at a second-hand store, where he went in to buy a trench coat, a pair of large sunglasses, and a fedora, per Red Robin's request. While inside the store, Red Robin somehow produced a blond wig and some makeup, changing his features just slightly so that he appeared to be a different person.

They both stop at a local gas station to change outfits and finish their prep work in the bathrooms.

Danny had gone in sweats, a stained shirt, and mismatched shoes—he had not been expecting a date—but when he left, he came out wearing an experimental style Dan had found.

It was called Corp Goth, and he secretly adored it. Maybe Sam was onto something when she said a pure black offit made anyone attractive.

It was a form-fitting black jeans, a top with a darker shade of black long-sleeve shirt, and a flowing black trench coat. Dan had included various jewelry pieces, with strict instructions on where to put them so that the style was "balanced," it gave him the slightest hints of old-style rock aesthetics.

Danny felt good about his clothes until Red Robin saw him. He didn't think he was that bad-looking, but if it caused the other to run into a streetlight, Danny would hate to think what other less kind people would say.

"Would Hawiian be alright?" Red Robin finally asks, his voice just a tad bit high. Is he that nervous to be seen by people?

Danny raises a brow. "If that's what you like. I'll do whatever you want me to."

The other teenager—is he? He looks older now with his make-up—a few years—and makes a strange choking sound. "Okay."

"Alright. So now that we know what to tell the waitress when she comes here, can we return to the fact you broke through my window?" Danny asks, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs to get comfortable.

A girl nearby chocks on her water, making Danny's head snap in her direction. Her friends quickly pat her back and urgently speak to the blushing girl. When he confirms she is all right, Danny returns his gaze to Red Robin.

He is taken aback by the sharp attention now being aimed at him. Yes, he can't exactly see the other eyes behind those dark sunglasses, but he feels the heavy stare all the same. "I want to discuss your connection to Killer Croc and the Infinite Realms."

Danny considers it. On the one hand, he can't talk about his secret mission, but on the other, he needs to find some information about this place. He's gotten bored wandering around, tinkering with things while the fashion contest dragged on.

They have been here for months and have made no headway in helping Batman. Heck, Danny has yet to even see him. If anything maybe this guy will know some information.

But he thinks he shouldn't lay all his cards just yet. So, he needs to bend the truth a little.

"There isn't much to tell about Killer. He was involved in our kidnapping a few days ago. I guess they hired him without explaining what the job was since he came to apologize for almost trafficking us." Danny shrugs, thinking over his answer as he takes a small sip of his soda, missing his mouth slightly. He quickly catches some of the spilled drink with his tongue, mentally debating himself for being so clumsy. There is a gasp from the same girl three tables away.

Danny fights the urge to sink into his seat as he ignores her. "He said he sells drugs, not people. How he tracked us down is anyone's guess, but since he came all the way in person, I figured I should invite him in and offer him a drink."

Red Robin tilts his head. "Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why would you invite him in and offer him a drink?"

"Ugh, 'cause it's good manners?" Honestly, did big-city folks really have no sense of being civil? Amity Park has a small population, but there are enough people to be called a city, and none of them have ever been confused by the idea of being invited in for a drink.

Red Robin considers this answer before he leans forward. "How about your connection to the Infinite Realms?"

Here, Danny carefully selects his replies, ensuring that all his answers are accurate, just not in the way the others will get. "You can say it was my parents, but mostly my mom. She was the one who made the final step and connected the family to the Realms."

"Your mom? Where is she?"

"Dead," Danny whispers, thinking of his own mom, whom he hasn't seen in weeks. He wonders if she or his dad has noticed him missing yet. If they have reported it.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Red Robin looks down at his hands in silence in a show of respect. Danny can appreciate it. However, that doesn't last long before he lifts his head again, this time with a stubborn little tilt to his mouth.

"That wasn't a full explanation of how the Infinite Releams involve you or your brother."

Danny shrugs. "It's how we got our meta powers. The portal to the other side opened on Dan and me, triggering our ice and glowing eyes. We've been inside it a few times, but the portal sealed shut the last time. We haven't been able to go back."

"That's why you here," Red Robin says in great realization. "Gotham has enough death in it that it helps your powers."

Not really, but they can work with that. Danny smiles, putting one finger up against his lips, and Red Robin is true to his name by turning a lovely red hue. Danny hasn't seen anyone blush that hard since Jonny 13 when the other asked him out on a date.

It's cute.

"That and it's also the cheapest living city. Dan really has his heart set on being a fashion designer so we need to save money on fabrics and stuff."

"You're his model. Have you always wanted to go into modeling?"

"Not really. I like mechanical engineering more. Maybe when I finish helping Dan, I'll look for a school to apply to." Danny shrugs, leaning forward to give the other a smirk.

Star once told him that Danny's slow up and down was his best flirting technique after he had done her math homework for her. In return, she agreed to help him get better at dating.

He's not sure how well her lessons had gone, seeing as he still struggled to get a date back home (with the living anyone), but he thinks some of it was right since Red Robin goes even redder, if that's possible.

"Enough about me. How did you get involved in smashing widows and looking tasty in spandex?"

"I-um- well funny enough I-" Whatever he was going to say is lost as a figure jumps down from the darkness, landing on their table. Danny yelps, pushing himself away, but in doing so, he falls backward since his chair is not meant to be leaned like that.

He crashes to the ground with a swear, closing his eyes at the impact. The back of his head stings a little, as Danny slowly cracks open his eyes and stares upwards- at...a man in a bat suit?

"Moby Dick! Are you Batman!" He gasps, finally feeling like they are about to make a step forward in their mission.

The man glares down at him before grunting. "Red Robin. Retreat to cave."

"But-"

"Now"

Then he throws a smoke bomb on the ground. Danny leaps up, but both men are gone by the time the smoke clears. "Wait! Mr. Batman, sir, I need to talk to you!"

There is no reply, just the girls filming with their phones and the sound of speeding cars. Danny kicks the ground. "Oh come on!"

When he wanders home, he finds Dan lying face down on the ground with various ice cream tubs surrounding him. On some pieces of paper are various-sized hearts, the initials "DF + KC" inside them.

Dan is singing heartbreak sounds into the carpet, muffled by his tears.

"Dan, man, have some dignity. You knew the EverBurning for like ten minutes."

The muffled crying gets louder, and Danny rolls his eyes. He slumps onto the couch with a sigh. "Listen, I think I got a lead on Batman. It's a man dressed like a bat. How hard can it be to find him?"

His clone-turn-twin raises one hand, pointing to a smashed button Danny missed when entering the living room. Upon closer inspection, he is startled to find out that it's a miniature microphone and tracker. There is a very tiny symbol on the side.

"Did Red Robin bug our house after breaking our window!?" he asks in outrage as Dan nods. "To think I flirted with him!"

Dan sobs louder. "I tried flirting with the best tail I have ever seen in my life and you got a date with a stalker! We're going to die alone!"

Danny really hopes they finish this stupid mission soon. He's getting tempted to let Clockwork's bomb take him.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #fashion for passion #Part 5 #Dan is in the trenches #He found the bug after cleaning the glass #Bruce interrupted Tim's date #Danny unknowingly looking mind numbing hot

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luveline · 9 months

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𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

spencer comforts you with facts and affection alike when you worry you aren't as pretty as the girls on his team. requested here. fem!reader, 1.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Photographs can't accurately capture how beautiful Emily Prentiss is. JJ and Penelope are both gorgeous too, but it's Emily who startles you. Her hair a cool black colour and curled around her demure face, the line of her nose and her deep, dark eyes. Her lips, picture perfect and painted a soft pink.

The prettier you find her, the more your heart sinks.

Spencer squeezes your shoulder. It's bold for him to do so in front of his friends (his family, really), he can barely show you affection in the grocery store without turning rosy. You preen at the touch, but the feeling of insecurity remains like an irksome gnat zipping around your head.

"We didn't think we'd ever get to meet you!" Derek is saying, a casual arm thrown around Penelope's shoulders, a drink in hand.

Rossi couldn't attend and JJ felt too pregnant, bringing your party to a solid six. It still feels like a lot of people to meet at once.

You hold the flute of your glass in a nervous hand, fingers stickied by condensation. You have a feeling that you're in trouble, all these profilers assessing your behaviour, nowhere to hide. "No, I'm," —you raise your voice to hide the funny tremor that's taken hold— "so happy to meet you all, I promise I've been trying!"

"Whenever she gets time off, we're on a case," Spencer says.

Emily smiles widely at your statement. It's such an open, friendly look, it floors you. You look down at your drink and blink.

You don't know it, but the team exchanges glances at your behaviour.

"So, do you enjoy your work?" Emily asks. "Or hate it, like us?"

Hotch laughs and moves his pint glass onto a coaster. "I think it's safe to say that none of us hate our jobs."

"I wouldn't blame you if you did. I can't imagine how hard it is, how hard you all work," you say. Spencer's hand drifts down your back. "But you have each other."

Emily does this thing with her eyes and if you weren't in a happy relationship, you'd probably be a puddle at her feet. "Too much of each other," she says jokingly.

She's gorgeous, and Spencer sees her every single day? You're nothing compared to her. Not smart, not strong, and nowhere near as pretty. You could never measure up.

"Would you, um, excuse me?" you ask, moving your purse from your lap and onto the table.

"You okay?" Spencer asks, looking up as you stand.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just gonna use the bathroom," you say quietly. You aren't, but if you were, you wouldn't really want to broadcast that anyhow.

You try not to wobble on the way to the bathroom. The weight of five pairs of eyes follows you as you leave, four of which are trained in the art of spotting lies. Everything isn't okay, and they know that, and by extension —all the effort you made tonight? Getting your hair done, your nicest clothes, your makeup and your perfume? It might as well be a huge blinking neon sign that says you're trying really hard, and it doesn't make a lick of difference.

You sidle into a stall, pulling the lid of the toilet down with a tissue and sitting on it heavily. Elbows on your knees, you hunch your back and hide your face in your hands, breathing in the smell of bleach through quick breaths. Water drips somewhere near the sinks, the cacophony of the restaurant hushed.

You've never felt naturally pretty. With Spencer, it hasn't ever mattered. He's never given any indication that he cares. But…

"Loser," you mutter to yourself.

"Hey, Y/N?" Spencer asks, his voice bouncing off of the tile.

You freeze. "Two seconds!"

"You're not really using the bathroom," he says incredulously.

"Says who?"

Spencer laughs, his tone wry, "I know you really well, you realise? Like, better than I know anyone else on the planet."

"Then you know I'm having an authentic pee and need my privacy."

"Come on out."

The ringing of the lock slotting free is like an announcement of your embarrassment. Spencer's standing a half a foot from the doorway, keeping his distance from the no man's land that is the ladies room. You're going to use it to your advantage, only he holds out his hand expectantly. When you take it, he pulls you out of the bathroom and firmly into the restaurant hallway.

You can't escape his concern, nor his hands as they cup your face unexpectedly.

They feel as nice as they look, deft fingers pressed to your skin like you're one of his puzzles to decipher.

"What upset you?" he asks.

"Nothing your friends did, I promise."

"But something." He smooths a hand down to your shoulders. He's not quite frenetic but certainly close to it, searching for a problem he won't find on the surface. "You're insecure about something," he deduces.

You cringe bodily. "I'm not."

"What is it? Is it your necklace? It really is nice, the colour goes with your skin. It's understated."

"It's not my necklace, Spence."

"Then what is it?"

"I just…" You pull his hands from your neck and collar to hold them, looking up into his melty brown eyes wishing he weren't so hard to say no to. "Feel like you could do better."

He frowns. It's a pout, and endearing, but not what you want to see.

"I love being with you, I just think, you know, you're so handsome, and you have all these pretty friends," you say.

"You think you're not pretty?" he asks. He sounds gutted, if a little confused.

"Not like her." Your voice quivers.

The first time you got upset in front of Spencer, he wasn't sure what to do. He ended up putting an arm around your shoulder, your brand new boyfriend out of his depth. You've both had some practice at comforting one another now, and any hesitance Spencer held is gone. He wraps his arms around you like he's afraid you'll fall over, the crease of his stressed brow smushing against the side of your face.

"Don't think that. Why would you think that?" he asks quietly.

"I know I'm not pretty like some girls," you say, surprised by the ferocity of his reaction.

"You don't know that, because it's not true. You're beautiful." He squeezes your side between his fingers, something contemplative about the way his thumb curls upward. "Do you know how many books I've read?"

"Thousands."

He hums. A hand grasps at the back of your neck. "Thousands of books. I know so much, especially about the human body. I know that falling in love can make some people feel the same effects as cocaine. Staring into their eyes can synchronise your heartbeats." He encourages your head back. "Butterflies are adrenaline and when I look at you I can't get them to stop, even if I know it's chemical." Spencer's eyes are lit with something you don't often see directed at you, a furious conviction. "What we think we know isn't always fact, so if you think you're not pretty…" He nods his head gently to the left. "There's only really one thing left to do."

Your heart feels like it's being juiced. "What's that?" you ask.

He grabs your hand and puts it on his chest. Fingertips to his breastbone, he holds it flat. Sure enough, even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, you can feel the rapid capering of his pulse.

"It's like that pretty much any time I look at you."

"Spence…"

"I know it's bad," he says.

"Are you messing with me?"

"Yeah, I did a lap before I came to find you– No!" He laughs, giving you an admonishing look. "Why would I mess with you? How could I?"

"I don't know."

He dips in to kiss your frown. "You're so pretty," he whispers. "So, so pretty. You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen, no matter what you think."

You don't believe that you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen, but you believe that he believes it. He has no reason to lie to you, nothing to gain. He could've said, Hey, you're pretty, and left it at that. He could've been angry with you for leaving the table for something some people would say was superficial. But Spencer's your sweetheart.

"Do you want to go home, angel?" he asks, looking at you worriedly.

"No." You don't even have to think about it —you've done enough thinking. "I don't want to go home. Sorry, Spencer. I feel better." And you'll stay out all night if he's going to call you angel again.

"Well, let me know if you need me to tell you again."

The chances of you surviving such an ardent speech a second time are low. "I won't be doing that."

Spencer shrugs. "You'll let me know, even if you don't think so. You have a tell when you're upset."

You spend the rest of the night making up for your disruption (which Spencer's friends immediately dismiss without questioning), shepherding the crisper curly fries on to Spencer's plate because he likes them that way, and begging him to tell you what your tell is with subtle pleading glances and a hand on his knee. Nothing inappropriate, but affectionate nonetheless.

He doesn't tell you no matter how much you ask, and maybe it's the drinks or the way the scone light kisses his cheeks in a warm buttery light, you can't find it in you to be mad.

"Keep your secrets," you say, chin tilted upward. You're failing to glare at him, too much love in your eyes for it to be believable.

"You're beautiful," he says back, mirroring your expression playfully, before leaning down for a chaste kiss.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!! if you did, please consider reblogging, it makes a big difference to me<3 have a good day!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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redbullgirly · 2 months

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HI BABRIE! HI KEN! [part 3, LH44 smau]

Lewis Hamilton x pregnant!reader [social media au]

Masterlist & Hi Barbie! Hi Ken! [part 1, LH44 smau] & Hi Barbie! Hi Ken! [part 2, LH 44 smau]

Summary: Lewis and his "real-life Barbie" girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N have a secret they keep from the fans. Though it's only matter of time before they announce the happy news... it's not like it can stay hidden forever anyways.

Warnings: Pregnancy. Slight hate and bodyshaming towards Y/N. If you're not in the right headspace, please don't read it!🫶

Author's Note: After quite some time, hello! I'm so sorry this took so long, but life has been so busy and hectic last month I simply didn't have time and energy to write this sooner. Though I'm very glad for everyone who waited for this part and I hope you'll like it. It's probably not the last one, I have few ideas for more parts. But I don't want to promise anything, we all know how long this part took XD.

lewishamilton posted on instagram

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tagged: yourcharity

lewishamilton So proud to support charity program for the involvement of children from disadvantaged families in sports yourusername has been working on for a few years now. All money raised from the friendly basketball match goes to the fond of the charity. Let's change lives of these talented kids together! 💫🙏🏾

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user1 basketball players should be grateful our king chose to be f1 driver 😌

user2 fr

yourusername together we can change the world for better!! 💫💕

liked by the author

user3 You make our lives better by existing Y/N😍😍

user4 I think this is too idealistic lol

user5 queen speaking facts and keeping us motivated

user6 LET HER COOK 🗣🗣🗣

user7 Sir Lewis Hamilton is Sir for a reason 👑

mercedesamgf1 🙏🤍

user8 even though he'll be driving for ferrari next year mercedes still supports him!!!

user9 and what did you think? that they'll ignore him or hate him suddenly? he still got a whole season w them 🤣 plus it's all marketing

user10 nah i'll just live in delusion that admin loves lewis & y/n🥰🥰🥰🥰

user11 I love how you use your platform to raise awareness

user12 omg he's so hot 🥵

user13 Wait, why is Lewis at Y/N's charity event instead of her? I usually support her, but this is just weird... why can't she stand up for her own thing?

user14 RIGHT?! idk why she didn't even bother showing there

user15 Honestly I think that Lewis going there brings more attention to it than just her going there, and it's a good thing people are noticing this organization. Though I don't understand why she didn't go there as well 🤷‍♀️

user16 guys stop wtf she could be sick or smth

user14 or she's just another attention seeker... never liked her tbh

user16 the only attention seeker here is u user14 get a life and stop hating 😘

user14 i'm not hating, i'm stating facts and unlike y/n i don't need a man to do shit for me lmfao

user17 Y'all are really getting mad over nothing xddd

user18 Amazing work! 👏 you make the difference, Lewis😍🖤💛

user19 the fact he has pink pants bc it's y/n's fav color and it's for a charity event she helped organize... i want a man like him 😩

user20 He's down bad for her!!!

user21 I mean... who wouldn't, just look at her🤭

user22 fr what i'd give to talk to y/n once

user23 Our fashion barbie iconic Queen 💖💖

user24 Lew giving the little boy a fist bump🥹

user25 he is going to be a great dad one day

user24 Oh definitely!🫶

user26 can't wait for dad lewis

user27 omggg imagine little him and y/n running around the paddock 😭😭

user26 they'll be sooo cute istg

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yourusername posted on instagram

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tagged: mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and roscoelovescoco

yourusername japan grand prix w my favs 🇯🇵🤍

view all 4,249 comments

lewishamilton 🤍🤍

liked by the author

user1 awww i live for bf lewis

user2 YOU DESERVE SOMEONE BETTER

user3 and who would that be user2 ?? you? lmfao u wish🤣🤣

user4 the disrespect of writing these things under HIS COMMENT where he shows SUPPORT to HIS GIRLFRIEND...

user5 Lewis & Y/N 4ever 🫶

user6 omg look at roscoe baby so cute

user7 the teeth I can't🥹

user8 It's Roscoe's world and we're just living in it fr

alexandrasaintmleux so prettyyy 🙏🌺

liked by lewishamilton and roscoelovescoco

yourusername oh stoppp u are prettier 💓💐

user9 Girls supporting girls and wags supporting wags... that's what we like!!!!

user10 the fact lewis liked alex's comment w two accounts is the best thing that happened this week😭

user11 shut uppp I didn't even notice it before user10 😭 he's such a simp I love this 😭😭

user10 i knoooow😭

user12 finally you attended a grand prix this year!!!!

user13 😍😍😍😍😍

mercedesamgf1 It's always brighter with you in the paddock Barbie Y/N!💖

liked by the author, lewishamilton and carmenmmundt

yourusername next time i'm going all out w the pink 💖🫶

user14 the legend herselffff

user15 Admin is slaying and supporting Y/N 💁‍♀️

user16 MOTHER IS SERVING ONCE AGAIN🧎🏻‍♀️

roscoelovescoco Enjoying's dad's racing's w my's best's mum's ☺️🏎

yourusername enjoying dad racing w my best son 🥹💕

user17 not roscoe slowly learning y/n's slang and saying w instead of with🤭

user18 and the fact Lewis is the one really writing it... !!!!!

user19 They're such cute a family🥰

user20 mum and dad and son... I can't it's too adorable 🫠❤️‍🩹

user21 Literally the queen of f1 and gorgeousness keep slaying

user22 where is the usual barbie aesthetic?!😥

user23 fr I want pink dresses not blue trousers

user24 Guys she can wear whatever she wants

user23 yeah true but still... she already built that image so why not keep it wtf 🤷‍♀️

user25 Covering her fat stomach with the purse ewww 🤢🥴

user26 i wanna take u haters seriously... but I just can't xd

user27 if you have anger issues like me and don't like online trolls, pls stop scrolling people! there are so many dumb users from twitter in these comments!🙃

user28 I just don't get why they're hating on Y/N all of sudden... what did she ever do to them

user29 idk, probably bcs she wasn't active for a while (she was probably not feeling well or smth as she said in an interview few days back) and didn't attend any gp till japan this year (again she was probably sick so understandable)... plus lot of f1 "fans" are jealous bitches change my mind

user30 Internet always moves in waves and one time everybody loves u and then they hate u 😬

user31 yeah but it's so sad cause y/n is such a sweetheart🥺❤️

user32 I honestly wouldn't care about the haters if they didn't attack her body and the way she looks... that's down right embarrassing and disgusting

user33 AGREED user32

twitter & messages between Y/N and Lewis

lewishamilton and yourusername posted on instagram

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lewishamilton It's hard to put into words how happy and excited we are. Can't wait to hold our baby in a few months and support my dearest love on every step of the way. Feeling blessed right now 🤍🪐

comments on this post have been limited

charles_leclerc Well, that's a shocking news I didn't know about this time...😂

charles_leclerc But big congratulations!❤️

yourusername yeah we needed to give u heart attack w smth too 😉💋

susie_wolff Congratulations Lewis and Y/N, you will be great parents! 💫🫶

yourusername thx susie, we have great role models in u and toto!!! ✨❤️‍🩹

lewishamilton 🫶🏾🫶🏾

kellypiquet what a great news!🥹

yourusername love u kelly 💕

sebastianvettel Many congratulations!

lewishamilton Thank you Seb!

yourusername will u be the fun uncle??? pls seb 🥹🙏

sebastianvettel If you'll make me their godfather....

yourusername done deal 🤝

lewishamilton I-... fair enough, done deal

fencer EXCUSE ME?!! THAT'S NOT FAIR

charles_leclerc Yeah what is this favorism?!

yourusername guys it's seb how could we say no 😌✨

charles_leclerc True... fair enough then I guess 🙂

fencer I still feel VERY offended

yourusername charles don't use that ironic emoji on me and fencer u can have the second child

lewishamilton Darling that sounds like you're sacrificing our second child while the first one isn't even born yet...

yourusername whoops 🫢🙈

sebastianvettel Do you realize this is not a private conversation?

yourusername actually u can set selected comments private seb 😁

charles_leclerc Wait seriously?!

lewishamilton No, she's just testing if he's old enough to believe her 🙄

yourusername you're sour bc u believed me the first time i tried it love ☺️🫶

sebastianvettel This is exactly why I didn't have Instagram sooner.

charles_lecerc We love you Seb!❤️

yourusername yeah we do love u our new godfather!!!!💖

mercedesamgf1 Congratulations from the whole team!🤩🤍

liked by the author

alexandrasaintmleux awww so happy for both of u!💞

yourusername hope you're prepared to be the fav auntie 🤭💋

alexandrasaintmleux anything for my little nephew or niece hamilton 🫡

scuderiaferrari The next world champion on the way?😍❤️

yourusername pls i hope they'll stay far away from racing 😭

scuderiaferrari Well... then we'll at least get another tifosi 😉

georgerussell68 Wishing all the best mate!

liked by the author

landonorris Wooohooo congrats!!!

landonorris Wait- do y'all realize you'll be parents now? Like real REAL parents of an actual child?!

yourusername yeah lando that's how it usually works when u get pregnant 😊

landonorris Yeah but... wait! The child needs to be McLaren fan!

yourusername your mission to get all hamiltons to be your fan is getting more complicated, isn't it? 😂🫢

landonorris Shhhh Y/N it's a secret mission 🤫

yourusername oh my bad sry

yourusername wait why do i know about it then???

landonorris Ehhh... miscalculation?

yourusername tf lando 😭

lewishamilton I'm starting to think this baby will be our second child and Lando is our first...

landonorris Wow so can I officially say Lewis Hamilton is my daddy now?😀

lewishamilton NO

yourusername lando don't you dare or istg

landonorris Byeee parents!! 🤗

f1 Let's go! 💖👶

francisca.cgomes babyyyyy 🤎🍂

pierregasly Why the leaves?

francisca.cgomes bcs it's an autumn babyyyyy

yourusername love u kika 💕

pierregasly Oh congrats by the way!🫶

yourusername thx pierre 💕

logansargeant RAAAAAHHH 🇺🇸🦅

logansargeant Sorry alex_albon took my phone 😒 I wanted to say congratulations!🤍

alex_albon 😇

yourusername lol

yourusername but thx sm logan, you're such a sweetheart! 🫶

lilymhe I swear it'll be the cutest baby ever

yourusername babe it'll totally will if u say so 💋

kevinmagnussen 🙌

hulkhulkenberg Welcome to the dad's club on the grid Lewis! 😉

liked by the author

oscarpiastri What a happy day, congratulations! 🧡

yourusername what's the orange heart doing here oscahh??? 🤨

oscarpiastri 💖

oscarpiastri Better now?

yourusername thx oscar sm for the congrats!🥰 also you should use my signature heart emoji more often 💖

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yourusername posted on instagram

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yourusername enjoying the barbie life 💖💐

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lewishamilton Beautiful, gorgeous and my Barbie!

yourusername awww my ken 💞🫶

user1 omg i love them sm

user2 I wanna have what they have

user3 the effect bf Lewis has on me should be studied 😩

user4 Just the fact he usually isn't active on ig and doesn't comment or anything... and she is the only exception😭🤭

user5 gorgeous literally so gorgeous

user6 The baby bump 🥹🥹

user7 and she looks so good with it too 🥹🥹

alexandrasaintmleux such good times hanging out with my fav barbie! 💋💖

yourusername the best times girly!!! 💕

user8 i live for this friendship

user9 Imagine these two next year in Ferrari garage together!😍

user10 literally the only good thing coming out of lewis leaving mercedes

user11 fr fr user10

user12 Are those flowers from Lewis???

roscoelovescoco Yeah's they'res from's dad's 🌻☺️

user13 OH MY GOD ROSCOE HIIII

user12 Can't believe Lewis Hamilton replied to my comment as his dog 😭

user13 lol user12 u really won life xd

user14 this is sooo cuteee 😻

user15 You and Alex look so good together! Hope you'll be friends forever!

kellypiquet where's the bag from? it's so pretty! 😍🤍

yourusername idk lew gave it to me for christmas last year... i'll ask and let u know!! 🤍🫶

kellypiquet 🫶

user16 The queens of the paddock right here 🙌

user17 still can't believe y/n & lewis are going to be parent in a few months

user18 RIGHT?! It's like a fever dream for me 😭

user19 Yeah i was excited for dad Lewis so long that now I can't believe it's finally happening 🤭❤️

user20 the best wag right here

user21 and soon the best mum!

user22 Ur STUNNING 😭💖

user23 Woman 💅

user24 proud to say i never hated on Y/N

user25 YES

user26 always knew she's the queen 👸💗

lewishamilton posted on instagram

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tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton My beautiful Barbie. The love of my life. My partner for good times and bad times. Mother of my child. The only woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. Y/N Y/L/N. 💖💫

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yourusername can't describe in words how much i love u lew!!! 💖💫

lewishamilton Love you too darling, so much!

user1 I can't 😭

user2 i wanna have what they have

user3 THE BEST COUPLE EVER

user4 if they ever break up love isn't real

user5 I'll tell my children they are the original Barbie & Ken

user6 my parents 🥰

user7 y'all don't understand how much i love them

user8 The best parents ever!!!!

roscoelovescoco Mums looking's gorgeous 🥹☀️

lewishamilton She in fact is.

yourusername my boys making me cry 🥹💓

roscoelovescoco Oh's no's mums don't cry's 🙁

yourusername don't worry baby it's happy tears 💞

user9 now I'm crying too... this is so sweet

user10 The reason they're my favs😍

user11 why is this so precious 😭😭

user12 so prettyyyy

kellypiquet Our Barbie looking like a goddess!💅🏻💝

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yourusername thx kelly!!!💕

user13 she's fr glowing 😻

user14 Thought she can't get more beautiful than she was before but pregnancy proved me wrong

user15 MARRY HER

user16 we love bf lewis dedicating whole post to y/n 🤭🤭

voguemagazine 🤩📸

user17 ariana what are u doing here?!??!!

user18 Even Vogue is an Y/N fan and we love it

user19 y'all don't understand how bad i need her to be on the cover of vogue or some other magazine 😩

user20 OMG user19 SHE WOULD SLAY IT TOO HARD

user21 You should marry her now!!! 💍💍

liked by roscoelovescoco

user22 heyyy did someone else see lewis like it and then un-like it?!😧

user21 When the notification of roscoelovescoco liking my comment came up on my phone I nearly dropped it and screamed... like what? Excuse me sir!!! 😃

user23 LOL I love how he goes savage liking comments w his dog's account and then regrets it immediately xd

user24 guuuyyyssss what if it means we'll get proposal soon???☺️

user21 I wish!!!!

twitter

THE END

Author's Note: Thank you for reading it to the end! I'll be very grateful for likes, comments, reblogs and every other sign of support. Also you can let me know if you think baby Hamilton will be a girl or boy 🤭. Have a great weekend! (Btw if someone wants to talk about their predictions for Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, they're welcomed bcs I don't have anyone to talk to about it XD)

Taglist: @namgification @hc-dutch @bloodyymaryyy @nat-lh-44 @cosmoscoffeee @daniellef89x @xoscar03 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @nathalielovesonedirection @raizelchrysanderoctavius @leclerc16s @carpediem241108 @onecojg (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

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astorianyxkings · 4 months

Text

Oldest Daughter Dick™ is probably one of my favourite things ever. And it always will be and here's why:

Of course Dick loves his siblings and of course he loves that they know Bruce as the father he is. But it won't stop the jealousy he feels. And no one gets it, not even Jason. They were all raised by Bruce Wayne, he was raised by Batman.

When Dick came to live with him, Bruce had no idea how to he a father. How to handle normal kid stuff like sicknesses and school events let alone the fact he was an acrobat. He was Batman and Dick was raised to be not just his successor but the only contingency plan he had against himself.

Bruce never held his punches ("That was a good block but I still got you, didn't I?" Bruce had said, rubbing cream into the blossoming bruise on Dick's side. "I'll get you next time," Dick had promised, young eyes challenging. "You better." Bruce had grinned back.) All attacks were to remind him that he was at a disadvantage strength wise and thus needed to re-evaluate his lines of defense and offense.

Dick was raised by the paranoid-in-his-late-twenties-probably-shouldn't-be-a-dad-despite-what-Marisol-said Bat. A fun game of catch? He was dodging Batarangs. Learning to drive? It was the Batmobile and he was age 14 (and a half). School events? He was fumbling, awkward and did not want to be there (but still was because he'll be damned if his boy didn't have his support.)

And you know that's fine, Dick was fine. It wasn't Bruce's fault he didn't know how to be a proper dad, despite Alfred's parenting books and videos. And he did try, he was always there. But it just really hits a sore spot everytime he sees Bruce hold a punch before he knocks Tim out cold or when he's behind the wheel with Steph telling her what not to do. Or even when he's at school with Damian and Duke making Marjory and her cupcakes look ridiculous compared to him and his coconut crumble cakes.

It also irritates Dick beyond senseless whenever the topic of sparring with Bruce is mentioned. ("We can all beat the old man Goldie, he's ancient." Jason shrugs off and Dick wanted to scream.) The only one who even tries to sympathize with him was Cass. More than likely because she'd seen him fight as Batman The Dark Knight before seeing him fight as Bruce The Father of Six-Almost-Eight.

And it just really stings because he can't relate to being raised by Bruce the way the others can't. Bruce changed for them, not him. And maybe that kind of hurts. But maybe he's overreacting.

What he doesn't realize is he's the reason why Bruce changed. Bruce saw the hurt and anger in Dick's eyes when he fired him from Robin (Think Shifu denying Tai Lung the Dragon Warrior scroll). He knew the second he saw the betrayal in Dick's eyes after seeing Jason as Robin, that he'd have to change. (The same way Shifu should've changed for Tigress but I digress, not that fandom).

Bruce pulls his punches because he hated seeing Dick limp away from their sparring matches—despite the fire and promise of a rematch in his eyes. He teaches them how to drive regular cars before the Batmobile because the one time Dick crashed (while trying to avoid some of Poison Ivy's vines) his heart rate skyrocketed so high Clark had called him up demanding to know if he was okay. He shows up for Duke and Damian and Cass and Tim because Dick's smile whenever he saw Bruce in the parent's lounge never failed to make him melt.

Bruce stands firm on the fact that while he may have made a hero out of Dick, Dick Grayson made a father out of Bruce Wayne.

#dc comics #batfam #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #dc robin #Marisol was Dick's social worker #Yeah Bruce had to spend a half an hour reassuring Clark that he was fine and Robin just scared him a little #(half to death #he saw the light)#I stand firm on the headcannon that Bruce's contingency plan for himseld has and always will be Dick #The rest of the batfam don't know why since Dick's the only one who takes fhe no kill rule harder than the old man himself #but whatever #Bruce and Dick angst is my favourite flavour #I hate it cuz I love it

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magicalqueennightmare · 3 months

Text

The Hybrid's Little Witch

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Just a one shot of Klaus and his little witch giving into their feelings

Fluffy (ish) smut

“Don't you fucking turn your back on me!” You were so angry you were nearly shaking. You could feel your powers rolling just under your skin, threatening to slip out but you maintained your hold on it, telling yourself no matter the anger you held that the hybrid in front of you was indeed friend not foe.

Klaus spun to face you and a part of you was surprised to have blue eyes looking back at you. You'd expected the golden eyes of his beast to be looking back at you. “Why are you even still in New Orleans? You did your job little witch. Hayley and Hope are safe, any coven that was a threat to them have been eliminated”

“I don't answer to you Klaus and you don't own New Orleans. Hayley called me here to help protect her daughter or are you forgetting she's one third witch? She needs someone here to help with all aspects of who she is as she grows and Freya shouldn't be forced to stay in one place. I'm not leaving”

In a single heartbeat he was in front of you, hands on either side of your head effectively boxing you in if you didn't want to use your powers on him. A portion of your brain registered the fact that you had a wall at your back and a hybrid in front of you but the majority of your brain refused to cower.

He wanted anger, wanted rage, you'd give it to him. While it was true things had calmed down but after everything you knew being complacent was a mistake. He leaned down close enough that his lips nearly brushed your ear as he spoke “Her daughter? Are you forgetting that Hope is my daughter as well?”

You turned to look at him noticing how close your faces were before raising your chin defiantly to look him dead in the eye “and are you forgetting the number of times I've risked my life to ensure she was born, to ensure she stays alive and healthy? I'm owed a little slack even from you”

Damn him a smirk slipped onto his face as he said “Is that it little witch? You think I haven't shown you proper respect?” The last year came crashing down onto you at that moment, every time you'd faced a new threat, every moment you'd swallowed the pain so Hayley wouldn't know what protecting her and Hope was doing to you and every ounce of loneliness you'd felt your entire life mixed in with your anger. Anger that was now pointed at Klaus whether it was earned or not.

Your magic uncurled without you having to think about it and he stumbled back from you as if he'd been tased, hand splayed out across his chest. You felt a surge of pride mixed with a tiny bit of tension leaving your shoulders despite knowing you may very well be about to fight with the father of your best friend's child, the hybrid you were so damn attracted to yet refused to act on it.

“You haven't Klaus. I've done nothing but fight for your family since the moment I stepped foot in New Orleans. Yet you walk around like I'm a pet Hayley picked up and dragged home. I may not be as old as your family but I've seen hundreds of years pass. I could be anywhere in the world and I chose to be here. I get it, your past dealings with witches have been shit but I'm owed the respect I've earned even if you fucking hate me”

He rubbed his chest a moment and your eyes flickered towards the length of skin that showed from the unbuttoned henley, the long expanse of his neck and the curve of his collarbone distracting you. Jesus christ, the reasoning behind Hayley getting pregnant was crystal clear but you and he were hardly friends. He hated witches and that's what you were.

Another smirk slipped onto his face and he shook his head “That's where you're wrong, love. I don't hate you” you scoffed not letting your guard down but curious as well “How am I wrong?” He took a step towards you and you shook your head so he stopped, holding both hands up to say he wasn't coming any closer. “I don't hate you. Quite the opposite in fact”

You let just enough of your magic seep out to make the air in the room thicken just slightly “Cut the shit Klaus and say what you mean” he looked you up and down before running his thumb across his bottom lip “I've been trying to ignore how much I want my child's Godmother”

You felt your stomach flip “What?” He shrugged “You're beautiful, Intelligent, lovely with Hope. The fact that you're absolutely dangerous just adds to the allure. Hell if Elijah hadn't fallen for Hayley and Kol wasn't head over heels for a witch himself I'd have to fight them for your attention more so than I do as you being their friend”

“So, what baiting me into argument after argument was your form of flirting?” You zapped him again from pure frustration and he growled before moving faster than any other vampire you'd seen. He had you backed against a wall with your arms pinned over your head and was staring into your eyes “Tell me one time you don't want me as much as I want you little witch. That's all it takes”

Your chest was heaving like you'd run a marathon and you knew he could hear your heartbeat but in that moment you didn't care to be embarrassed of it. He was right, you wanted him. “And if I do want you?” You asked with a slight smile. He returned your smile before saying “Then I do this” he caught your lips in a bruising kiss, flicking his tongue against yours and swallowing the moan that the action pulled out of you.

You struggled to free your hands but his grip held tight. He pulled back to look at your eyes “Tell me what you want” you swallowed twice before saying “I want you to fuck me Klaus, hard” the smile he gave you made heat shoot straight to your stomach “Thought you'd never ask” in one fluid motion he released your hands and scooped you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist.

—----------

You hooked your arms around his neck and he moved from your lips down across your jaw then to the sensitive flesh of your neck. He rolled his hips against yours and a gasp left you at feeling his hardening cock through the layers of jeans between it and your sensitive core. When he bit down just below your pulse point you moaned, fingers digging into his shoulders “Bed Klaus. You're not fucking me against a door dammit”

He chuckled against your skin “See? That dominating side of you. Can't wait to have you begging underneath me” You glared at him “I swear on everything” in a blur of movement he was up on the stairs and in his bedroom kicking the door shut with his foot then putting you down on your feet but backing you against the door in the same fluid motion.

He was everywhere, lips and teeth teasing your neck and jaw, hands roaming across what of your body he could reach while his hips rutted into yours pulling low moans from you at the action. One hand slid up to wrap around your throat as his mouth claimed yours. Your hands found his chest, clawing at his shirt, begging for more access to him “Eager are we?” He teased before leaning back from you enough to pull his shirt over his head and tossed it behind him.

He reached for your shirt but stopped with his hands just shy of it. He glanced at your face for permission and the moment you nodded he pulled the shirt over your head and a grin slipped onto his face that made your knees weaken “Oh I'm going to enjoy this” another quick kiss to your lips then he moved to your neck, biting down on the spot he previously had which made you moan his name.

—----------

Instead of stopping he continued down, when he got to your still clothed breasts he reached behind you with one hand. You felt the clasp give before your bra was pulled from your body and tossed somewhere in the room. He reached for one of your breasts, teasing the nipple between his fingertips. Your breath was already coming in fast pants. It'd been a little too long since you had sex and the feelings that the hybrid was bringing out of you with so little action so far was a bit alarming.

When he lowered his mouth to the other one, your back arched off the door. He barely grazed your nipple with his teeth but you felt your legs quiver. “Love, when was the last time someone touched you? Other than your own hands?” He murmured and you closed your eyes in an attempt to slow your breathing “Before I came to New Orleans”

You half expected to see teasing in his eyes when you opened yours but instead there was a hunger there “Then I'll have to make sure you're satisfied” you weren't sure what he meant before he sank to his knees in front of you. “Klaus” you tried to find your voice but he simply tapped your left leg “Lift your foot”

—------------

Within moments your boots and jeans were off your body leaving you in just a simple pair of black lace panties. “May I?” He asked and you nodded. He slid them off your legs and smiled up at you and gods the heat that flooded throughout your body at that moment could've torched the states between Louisiana and the Atlantic.

He dropped one of your legs over his shoulders before his head dipped between your thighs. The first swipe of his tongue was tentative, testing. When your fingers burying themselves in his hair was the answer he dove in. He was like a man starved and he meant to devour you to feed the hunger.

When his teeth grazed your clit you would've collapsed had it not been for his grip on you “Oh fuck Klaus” he added two fingers in with his tongue, curling them up to add pressure to that spot deep inside of you and that was all it took to push you over that edge. The burst of pleasure made your vision go soft around the edges. He worked you through your orgasm and only let up when you begged softly “Please Klaus, too much. Too much”

He rocked back on his heels, keeping two fingers inside of you to tease at your still sensitive clit “Already begging? I thought more of you” you knew your words would fall flat considering your legs were shaking but you still felt the need to say “Fuck you Klaus”

He buried his fingers to the knuckles and you moaned loudly “I believe that's where we're headed love” he pulled his fingers out and held your gaze as he sucked them into his mouth, rolling his tongue around them “Heavenly”

—--------------

He stood and when he got to his feet he picked you up, leaving you no choice but to wrap your still shaking legs around his slim waist. He walked over to the bed and laid you down almost gingerly. You looked up and realized he was still wearing jeans “You're overdressed Mikaelson” he grinned “Then by all means, come relieve me of them”

You sat up and moved to the end of the bed, pulling him to you by the front of his jeans. You made quick work of the zipper, pushing them off his hips. He helped you kick them off along with his boots. He was left in a pair of black boxers and the way his cock was straining against the material made your mouth water. “Take what you want” he spoke and you slid your hand below the waistband of his boxers, wrapping around his hard cock.

He groaned lightly as you began to stroke him. When you pushed his boxers down to be able to lick a strip from the base of his cock up to the head, rolling your tongue around to collect the beads of precum leaking out.

You sank your mouth down on him, taking as much of him as you could. When he hit the back of your throat you twisted your tongue around him as you worked your mouth. You could feel his hips tense and knew he was trying to hold back from thrusting into your mouth. He spoke your name twice before stepping back to pull himself free of your lips.

—-------------

“Get in the bed” you scooted up to the pillows and he smiled, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking it lazily as he took in the sight of you laid out completely bared in his bed. He licked his lips then climbed into the bed.

There was almost an animalistic quality to him, a predator finally catching his prey. He started at your hips and worked his way up your body. You knew even with your healing you'd still be littered with marks from his lips for a day or two and something stirred inside you at the thought of carrying marks from Klaus.

When he got to your mouth he caught your lips in a bruising kiss that made your fingers bury into his hair. You felt his hard cock against your inner thigh and pulled back from the kiss “Fuck me already Klaus”

His hand slipped between you and you felt the head of his cock teasing at your entrance before he sank himself inside of you. The feeling of him stretching you caused you to close your eyes tightly. Klaus wasn't exactly small. After a moment the stretch gave way to pleasure.

He peppered kisses across your jaw and chest until you opened your eyes and met his. He took that as a go ahead and pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back into you. You gasped and he grinned. “You wanted it hard little witch?”

You nodded “Please” he chuckled and rolled his hips in a tight circle, watching your face as he did so. “Quit teasing Hybrid” you warned and he nodded before setting a punishing pace.

You were so damn close to that edge and wanted nothing more than to fall over but Klaus slowed his pace forcing your eyes to fly open “What the fuck?” He shrugged “You want to come, keep your eyes on me little witch. I want to watch you fall apart”

You nodded after a moment and he resumed the pace he knew you liked and when his fingers slipped between you to rub tight circles on your clit it took everything in you to keep your eyes open “Let me feel it” you felt that pressure burst and fell over that edge, your eyes watering in an urge to close them against the pleasure rolling through you.

You could feel his hips falter slightly and knew he was close. He buried his face into your neck and you felt his fangs tease the skin there, not biting but just applying enough pressure to make you clench around him as he came burying himself deep inside of you.

—-------------

When he drew back he smirked at you before catching your lips in one final kiss before pulling out of you. He moved to lay down next to you and pulled you over on his chest. “What now?” You asked once your breathing had returned to normal “Well this by far more enjoyable than fighting”

You raised your eyes to him and laughed “Are you really proposing we start fucking regularly?” He shrugged “I want you, you apparently want me. Come on love it doesn't have to be some epic meant to be thing but this was enjoyable for us both and we have to get along for Hayley and Hope's sake”

You shook your head and started to laugh but it turned into a yawn. “Get some sleep” he urged and even though you knew you should leave you found your eyes drifting shut. You were satisfied, warm and like it or not safe in Klaus’ arms.

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