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selarina · 7 months

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The Ken to whose Barbie?

-> Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

Summary: He's supposed to be Ken this Halloween, as in Barbie's Ken, but he doesn't think he looks the part. But you insist that he does. He's blonde, he’s literally named Ken, and he's just oh so very handsome.

Tags: halloween party, established relationship, fluff, smut, jealously, alcohol use, spit kink, oral sex (f!receiving), implied (m!receiving) oral sex, kisses on the feet, bath scene, aftercare, she/her pronouns used for reader, unedited

Word Count: 2.5k words

Author's Note: wanted to release this on Friday the 13th but I couldn't :/ Also, sorry the smut was quick. I was horny and then I got un-horny

Read on AO3

"Wow, don't you look... flamboyant."

Shoko walked towards him as Nanami barely smiled. He greets her with a small nod. In truth, he feels absolutely fucking ridiculous in this outfit of his. He's supposed to be Ken, as in Barbie's Ken, but he doesn't think he exactly looks the part.

But you argued he does. He's blonde, he's named Kento, and he's oh so very handsome. Your words, not his. And so, of course, he agreed, albeit his reluctance.

“How have you been, Shoko-san?” Nanami inquires, hoping to divert her attention from his incongruous appearance.

"I've been good," she says, Shoko extinguishes her cigarette against the stone wall with an insouciant flick, her gaze sweeping from his exposed chest to the opulent fur draping him. "Did you lose a bet or something?"

"I do not engage in wagers," he says. "It's imprudent," he remarks.

Shoko smiles, ever so slightly. It's been years and yet some things don't change. She may not have an intimate understanding of him, not really, but she did know he would never show up in such an outfit, or in fact, any halloween outfit.

"It’s because of her, isn’t it?" Shoko probes.

He feels another of wave of chill wind hit chest, noticing the lack of a cigarette in her hand. Maybe she threw it in the bin while he was looking away. He doesn't say anything.

Shoko's expression changes now, and she smiles. He can't think of the last time he's seen her smile. She brings a hand up, placing it on his shoulder. “She’s a nice girl.”

“She is,” is all he says before Shoko pulls out another cigarette, as she vanishes back into the door.

There’s so many words to describe you, Nanami thinks. Nice is one that stands true, but it only really scratches the surface.

There’s so many words to describe you. So, so many but he can barely think of any as you walk towards him.

You're adorned in a tiny pink and white dress, the edges of your skirt just about hitting your upper thighs. And you're walking towards him with a sweet sweet smile. You look pretty.

"You look beautiful," he manages to utter as you draw near.

You leave a soft peck against his cheeks, "Thank you. You look beautiful as well," you move back to give his outfit a look.

"So, now you're taunting me. All after begging me to wear this shitty costume," he says.

"I didn't beg," you frown with a squint. You didn't beg. All you did was call him handsome, and he conceded.

"I can't believe you talked me into this," he says, as he holds out his hand for you, you stretch your hand out to loop yours into his.

Your free hand reaches for your phone, opening a QR code up, so the security could scan it.

"But you look handsome," you say as your hands shift from his forearms to his hand, as you pull him into the crux of the party. And so, he stops grumbling because as he's mentioned before — it's really all it takes from you.

The party scene is not quite what he expected, he was expecting chaos and sticky floor, but it's a bit lax and he can actually hear his thoughts out loud, even though he wishes nothing more than to turn them off now. Because you looks so fucking cute in your outfit, and every time you sit, your skirt rides up — just a little — to reveal your thighs, and he finds himself wishing he could just take you back home. He wants to leave.

No, he needs to leave.

Self restraint has always been one of Nanami's strong suits. But with you, it's always faded to dust.

His first kiss with you happened on a whim, it wasn't planned or anything. He saw you sitting outside on a park bench, on a normal forgettable park bench, and he thought you looked pretty. And so, he leaned in for a kiss.

He then met you days later for your third date, but he could barely let you get past your front door. The dinner reservation had gone to waste, but he just couldn't help himself, you looked too good in your dress.

"Let's leave," he says, bending down to whisper in your ears as you take a sip from your glass.

"What? No," you protest, a soft frown marring your features. "We just got here."

Mirroring your frown, he presses, "But I want to leave now."

He can't help but think about how unlike himself he sounds, he sounds like a child begging for a treat. You could sternly tell him you want to stay, and he'd listen, none too alike to a child.

"Hey," he hears a gruff voice from beside you.

It's a man, dressed in a military outfit, but neither of you know him, at least to his knowledge. He turns to look at you and he confirms the same because you're looking back at him with a similar expression.

"Can we help you?" you ask.

"I know you're dressed as Barbie," the man says. "But I think you're missing wings because you look like an angel."

Apart from the fact that the compliment is just too wordy. Nanami thinks he's pissed because this man has no etiquette, Nanami's hand had been clinging to your waist all night, so what made him think he could come over and hit on you?

But most of all, what pisses him off is that he's not wrong.

"Well, I'm Barbie and Barbie has a Ken so," you say, turning to him and he could swear your eyes twinkled just then.

The stranger persisted, with a chuckle, "Some Barbies have G.I. Joe boyfriends. You should ask my little sister."

Before you can respond, arms encircle your waist, pulling you close to Nanami. "Not this one." His words are curt and final, "Now, leave."

At that the G.I Joe guy's eyes widens, before he wordlessly takes his leave.

And that's all it takes from Nanami to take your glass from your hand before he leaves it on an unoccupied table with a loud clink. He guides your hand into his.

"We're leaving," he says plainly as you nod.

—

Your hands slide to Nanami's neck, and you pull. Your jaw flex as your mouths move. You're so used to his languid movements, that his quick movements leave you reeling.

His torso is completely flush against yours as he lifts you off the ground, still kissing you as he walks to close the front door shut.

Your ankles hook around his back, his hands slide down to grip the undersides of your bare thighs.

It doesn't take too long for him to drop you onto your bed, he quickly takes fur coat off, as he's coming back down to kiss you.

You taste like mint cranberry with a tinge of alcohol remnants around your lips, he thinks.

You cart your fingers through his undercut, before tugging on the roots of the hair above.

He parts away from you now, and this time he slows down. Not because he needs it, but because he doesn't always act this way, he's not always this harsh with his movements, he loves treating you with soft caresses and gentle grips, but there are times like this where you just bring out a different, more untamed side of him.

You take his headband off, as your hands stay on his hair, but this time you play with it, carding through. You know he's thinking, and you know what he's thinking about.

"Kento," you say, soft as a whisper.

He hums. "Are you jealous of the little G.I Joe man?"

Little.

"Why would I be jealous of him?" he asks, as though you've insulted him by implying so. He admits it pissed him off, he admits there is a strange, more concerning side of him that wishes he could keep you all to himself, that he could keep you away from eyes that could see your beauty, but truly, he doesn't worry about other people much. He has all his faith in you.

"It did annoy me," he says. He bends down, leaving a soft kiss forehead.

And that's the last of his softness for you today, he comes back up. "Open," he says, his thumb grazing over your chewed up bottom lip.

And you do, as you often do, your mouth opens, and your eyes stare up at him, wide and waiting with devotion he can only think of deserving at times like this.

Nanami purses his lips and hocks a glob of spit directly into your mouth, as you swallow.

He pushes your legs apart. He bends down, placing the softest kisses all around your neck, "You're so good to me," he says as you groan in tandem.

His hands move up and down, tracing inconsequential patterns before they go up to tug at the straps of your underwear before he pulls them down your legs.

Nanami moves back from your body, your skirt is bunched up to your waist, and you sit upright as you stare down at him in all of your half-naked glory. It takes merely one look at your face— your lips ajar, your hair mussed, your stare hazy — for him to decide he should be on his knees for you.

His knees hit the ground, and his hands come to hold your oustered foot.

His lips come down to press a steady kiss to the arch of your foot as he maintains a painstakingly unwavering eye contact with your eyes.

Slowly, his kisses move higher. He presses the second one just past your ankles, his lips touching the flexing muscles of your calves. With his kiss, your muscles relax.

And then he moves even more higher to the sensitive skin behind your knees, it's ticklish almost so your toes curl to suppress the sensation. And then finally, he settles, he dedicates some time, stopping to leave more than a few kisses to your inner thighs.

Now as his face remains near your inner thighs, Nanami can’t resist, and he sucks twin hickeys onto each side of your thighs. His thumb coming to trace his work of art, as his eyes come back to find your eyes. His brown eyes entrapping you in place.

For a solid minute, Nanami can't do nothing but stare at your pretty cunt. You refuse to squirm but every time he does this, it makes you feel squeamish and seen, you feel the need to kick off and run away. His warm breath dances over the sensitive skin, and you squirm — just a little, begging for the return of his mouth.

He smears his mouth against your cunt with open mouth kisses. Wet trails of his spit glister in the wake of his lips. He uses his fingers to pinch at your hood until your clit peeks out for him.

“You're so good to me Kento baby,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” Nanami asks. He likes hearing it every time, he asks you over and over and over again, until it's all you can seems to say.

You nod eagerly, "Yeah," you say with a soft gulp.

His hand continued to toy with your clit, your hips bucking greedily against the anchor of his hands at your hips, begging for more pressure, more, more, more. And it's just like him to give you more and beyond.

He moves in again — his tongue to his nose both buried in between your legs, as he laps and sucks on until finally your thighs start to show its very first quiver.

With that he moves, focusing his attention on your clit, he is persistent and needy in the way he moves, like he's a starved and depraved little thing. It's so unlike his usual self, so you commit it to memory every chance you get.

The foot that was once laying limp on his shoulder, now clenches, drawing him closer and closer by the neck with every move he continues to make. He can tell you are going cum soon.

It's the part he commits to memory— the way your hips arc, humping to get what you need to fly over the edge, as your eyes are shut with pleasure.

And you come into his mouth at one consequential contact, he relishes that familiar tang as he laps it all up.

He wipes his mouth with one hand and he looks up to you, you look at him and a quiet moment passes by, he can hear a vehicle outside, making it's way across the road.

And then you break out into soft chuckles, it comes out restrained because you're just so out of breath.

You move to the ground, your hand hitting the ground beside him, you're still breathing heavily as you force him to take your place on the bed.

Your hands settle on his thighs, as you caress it his high from over his pants. You look up, as you reach for his belt. "Your turn now, Kento baby."

—

“Tell me why it annoyed you,” you murmur, punctuating your sentence with a small yawn.

The warmth of the bath makes him feel even more drowsy than he’s been feeling, but this feels too nice to wake up and make or even order dinner.

Nanami lies with his back propped in the bath, his knees are spread, sitting against the bathtub to fit your body. Your back lays warm and wet against his chest, and the crown of your head just below his chin. His hands hold your breasts in each palm, slowly caressing your nipples.

Maybe it's because he's feeling drowsy. Maybe it's because you've drained him of his all his energy tonight, but he speaks up. “I guess, I just want you all to myself sometimes."

"Of course, you do. I'm a catch," you say with a giggle.

Nanami tweaks your nipple, and you squeal. The water around him sloshes over the edge of the bathtub, drenching the mat as you move in his hold.

“You can be cocky sometimes,” Nanami says mournfully.

You laugh, and the vibration of your chest shifts your breasts in his hands. "I am yours though," you say. Sweet as you are, he feels like you have to say this to him, you have to reassure him constantly. He doesn’t think he could just know this, as blind faith or by the look in your eyes.

Nanami may look a man confident of his abilities and status, but with you, he thinks you could do so much better. You deserve more than half-truths, and repressed staggering feelings, and so he needs to hear it

"You are," he says. "I guess it's just odd then."

"It's not," your response is immediate. "I understand."

"You do?" he asks.

"Yeah, did you see the number of women looking at you today?" you say, and there's a hint of agitation there, and Nanami hates to admit it but it does something to him. To have this knowledge that you could even care that much for him.

"I didn't see them," he says moments later when you’re both in bed. You nestle in deeper against his chest, barely awake at all. I only see you.

"I know," you smile, and he feels it against his chest.

#genuinely hate the headers and the format of it all but this is the best i could do ://#nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento x reader smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader fluff

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fangirl-dot-com · 1 month

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🖤Prologue - My Reputation's Never Been Worse

Ok, so I was in the mood to create something dealing with the news about Logan's car being traded for Alex. So, I thought, why not give Reputations a prologue. Now, this does not happen in 2024. This is set around the 2023 Brazil Grand Prix. Everything in this story is fake. I'm sorry I had to make some of the drivers mean - in no way do I think that they act like this. Yes, they could be nicer to Logan but because I don't know them personally, I have no real thoughts about what they do in their own lives.

All I know is that Logan deserves all the love and my heart hurts for him.

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Saturday, November 4, 2023

“You want to do what?”

James sighed as he hunched over his desk. Logan was in disbelief over the question that he was just asked. Alex sat to his right, chewing on his finger nails.

“It’s just for one race Logan. It’s no big deal.”

Logan’s brows pinched in annoyance. “No big deal? Two races ago, we scored our first double points. I have raced clean, I’ve shown you what I can do.”

“That right now doesn’t matter Logan,” James pushed. “What matters is the team. And we need to keep pushing to get points.”

“Then let me race. Let me prove to you that I can do it.”

Alex coughed, but no one paid attention to him. The Thai’s eyes were pointed at the floor. His silence was deafening. Logan leaned back in his seat.

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

There wasn’t an answer from James, which gave Logan everything he needed to know. How dare they come to a circuit without an extra chassis. How dare they ask Logan to give up his car that he worked so hard to get in the first place. It was ridiculous. And even if Alex managed to score points, it wouldn’t really matter. There were only a few races left.

Logan finally turned to his teammate. “What do you think about this?”

Alex only replied, “I would do what was best for the team.”

A scoff escaped the blonde’s lips.

“So if I had crashed out, and they asked you to give your car to me, what would you say?”

“It wouldn’t matter because they’d never ask me to do that. I’d still drive.”

Logan’s jaw wanted to fall. Did Alex really just say that? The man who had been so confident in Logan. The one who encouraged him after every fault. The person who was supposed to be his teammate.

Logan could only collapse against the back of the chair. In frustration, he threw his hands up.

“Fine. Whatever it take for the team right?” he bit.

“Thank you Logan.”

However, the American was out the door before he could even hear James. He needed some air. As he walked around the paddock, he saw lots of people but thankfully (or sadly) they didn’t pay attention to him. After walking for a bit, he knew where he was automatically going to.

The back of the Mercedes garage.

George, bless his heart, had comforted him once after a particular bad DNF and told him that if he ever needed a place to just sit, he was always welcome there. The tall Briton was always nice to the American. Way nicer than anyone had really treated him.

He sat on the wet-ish grass and pulled out his phone. Time to look like he was actually doing something. Maybe the weather in Madrid was nice, or maybe it was raining back home? The weather app was always his go to.

It only took a matter of moments for the post to go live. His eyes followed the mass amount of comments that poured in. And most of them were not lovely. He wanted to cry, but he knew better.

Footsteps made him aware that someone was coming. He quickly stood up and rounded a corner, putting his back flat against the wall.

It was Alex, George, Lando, and Oscar.

“Great,” he whispered when he realized that there was no way to escape without them seeing. Oh well, eavesdropping was one of his specialties.

“He was not happy,” he heard Alex say. “I don’t blame him.”

Lando scoffed, or well, he thought it was Lando.

“This wouldn’t have happened if he was a better driver.”

Yep, that was Lando.

“Come on, don’t say that.”

Thank you Oscar, Logan wanted to say. Thank you for standing up for me.

“Mate, you were just saying yesterday about how he really isn’t fit for F1. You said that he should have stuck with Indy Car or something.”

Ouch.

Logan wanted to throw up.

“Shit, I was really mean to him in there. I should have said something.” That was Alex again.

Logan could practically hear Lando roll his eyes. For some reason, George has stayed eerily quiet.

“Alex, it’s his own fault. I’m just saying everything that everyone is thinking. I’m the only one who is brave enough to say it. Logan Sergeant has no business being in Formula 1.”

Oscar stuttered out, “That’s enough Lando.”

“Right sorry, forgot you two were close.”

Come on Oscar.

“Not that close. He exaggerates a bit. To be honest, I just felt bad for him. He kind of stuck to me and I just let him.”

Oh.

Alex sighed. “He wanted to prove something so much. But there’s really no need.”

“No need?” Logan whispered to himself.

“James isn’t extending his contract. Williams is going with whoever wins this year’s Formula 2 championship.”

There was silence for a bit. Logan took the time to reign in his breaths that were quickly getting faster and faster. He did not need to have a panic attack here and now.

“We have to go, Andrea is texting me.”

“I’ll go with. My engineers have to look over Logan’s car to change some things.”

He heard footsteps start to walk away. The lone Williams driver let out a deep sigh and sank to the ground. His head was automatically in his hands as he finally let his tears shed. What he didn’t see was a 6-foot Briton walking his way.

The blonde gasped when he felt a food nudge his. His head shot up and was faced with George.

“Oh hey. Didn’t see you coming.”

“I know you were listening.”

Red flushed Logan’s face as the idea of being caught.

“It’s not eavesdropping if everyone talks so loudly.”

George sighed. “I’m not mad Logan. I’m worried for you.”

A scoff escaped from Logan.

“You’d be the first.”

George felt his heart drop at the sentence.

“I try and try, and no matter what I do, it’s never good enough.”

“Mate, you can’t get anywhere in a Williams. Did you even see my rookie year? It was bloody awful.”

Logan looked back down. “But you’re now in Mercedes. You won the Formula 2 championship. I wasn’t even runner up or third place. Williams is all I have, er, well, had I guess.”

“I’m truly sorry Logan.”

“Sure.”

George started to walk away, knowing that trying to convince the American that he was good enough was a lost cause. Logan waited until the Briton left before standing up to make his way back to the garage.

He could feel the eyes on him now as he made the journey back to Williams. His eyes caught George standing with Lewis, Max, and Charles. They looked sad as they watched him walk.

Whatever, Logan did want or need their pity.

The American kept on walking, only stopping to ask for a car to take him back to his hotel. Man, did he wish Benny were here. It would make everything so much better. His phone had been blowing up with so many notifications. Multiple messages from his friends back home, along with his parents, had been nothing less than supportive.

However, one message caught his eye as he was going through the long list. He was surprised, but there was a warm, fuzzy feeling at the sight of your name. He knew that you were also having a hard time adjusting to everything. Except for the fact that you had won a race for Arrow a few weeks prior. Hell, he was even at your celebration party. But he remembered the looks on your team’s faces as you celebrated.

One good word would be jealousy.

And it wasn’t just your team: it was everyone.

He sent you a quick text saying that he’d call you when he got back to his room. A fast “I’ll be waiting” brought the warm feelings back.

He quickly walked through the hotel doors and into the elevator. It was going to be so nice when he could change into his sweatpants and t-shirt.

Logan mulled over the entire thing as he showered.

He could have stayed home in Florida. He wasn’t needed here anyway. He could be in his childhood room, in his own comfy bed instead of the stuffy hotel room that he knew was smaller than the one that Alex got. He had seen the Thai’s pictures from Instagram and their rooms did not look the same.

He quickly glanced in the mirror, just to see if his hair looked fine. He was thinking of growing it out, but hesitated to. He didn’t want to be made fun of even more than he already was. With a jump into the bed, he was ready.

He sent you a quick text, only to be met with the FaceTime screen ready. He rolled his eyes, you had always been so impatient to talk to people. When he pressed the green button, he was met with a big smile and an oh so familiar and safe face.

“Hi Logan.”

How he missed your voice. You were always so soft spoken, but could yell at people if you needed to. He had been on the wrong side of your yell one too many times. But, he could listen to you for hours if he could.

“Hello? Earth to Logan?”

He quickly shook his head.

“Hi Y/n,” he murmured, laying his head on his bicep as he just looked into the camera. You had a sad smile as you looked at the blonde.

You could see his eyebags and his pale completion through the small screen. His red eyes signified that he probably cried when he took his shower (you knew because his hair was still soaked).

You cleared your voice. “How are you holding up?”

Logan’s shoulders only raised before dropping back down.

“I’ve been better.”

“Of course you have.”

“Overheard that I’m not going to be resigned for next year.”

A gasp echoed through the room before you sighed. Your hand ran through your hair. When you and Logan were little, people always mistook you for twins or very close siblings. That always annoyed you because you claimed that Logan was your boyfriend, not your brother. The moms and dads would just laugh.

Looking back, you always wished you cherished those moments more than you had. The “relationship” only lasted for three days or until you saw Logan give Jessica his extra fruit roll up instead of you. After that, you claimed that you could only be his best friend since he didn’t love you as much as you loved him. You were over it as soon as you gave Michael your extra fruit roll up.

You looked down at your fingers in your lap and bit your lip.

“What are you thinking about?”

You sighed again. “If it helps, I’m not getting resigned either.”

Logan’s eyes widened as he scoffed.

“That’s ridiculous. You have given them 1 out of their 2 wins this season.”

“And Logan, you scored points as the first American in like 30 years. Nothing in motorsports is ever fair.”

Logan leaned back, but kept his face visible.

“Remember when we were kids? And we always said that we would make it to our dreams together?”

A quiet hum sounded from his phone.

“Have we made it yet?”

Silence was his answer.

“I don’t think we have.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Logan, is driving in a Williams really your dream?”

The male thought for a moment. Did he accomplish his dream of getting and making it to Formula 1? To the outside world, yes, yes he did. He drove for an F1 team. He ‘made it’ even if it wasn’t the best. But is it really making it if you finished 21st in a 22 driver line up?

No, that was not making it. That was barely getting by.

“I guess my dream was just to show everyone that I could do it. That I’d be good at it. But, now I haven’t done that.”

“Then why have you given up?”

“Because everyone wants me to. No one has ever liked me for me.”

“I do.”

Logan inhaled sharply. He finally turned his head to see you looking right at him through the screen. He felt a tear run down his face.

When had that gotten there?

“Logan, listen to me.”

A hum from him made you laugh. You guessed that’s what you were going to get out of him.

“You have the talent, Williams saw that. They just couldn’t give you a car to maximize your potential. And who cares if no one likes you. You don’t have to make them like you, but at the same time you do. You can’t be green-eyed lady whisperer Charles Leclerc or World Champion Max Verstappen.”

He rolled his eyes. “Wow, thanks Y/n.”

Your giggles filled the air. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah, please continue about Charles’s green eyes.”

“Dude I could write a whole biography on his eyes alone. But I don’t want to. I’d rather write a whole novel about yours.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say Logan, is that you have to believe in yourself and show them that they need to like you because you are you. Say it with me please? Like you’re talking to a hater. ‘You must like me for me’.”

Logan whispered back, trying to believe his words.

“You must like me for me.”

He shot up from the bed as soon as he said the words.

“Isn’t that a Taylor Swift lyric?”

His eyes narrowed at you through the phone. You only smirked back at him.

“Quite possibly. Now, you are going to go to bed, sleep so well, and then keep smiling. Show them that they haven’t destroyed your spirit just yet.”

Logan put his head on a pillow.

“Oh, so they are going to destroy my spirit at some point.”

“Yep!,” you popped the ‘p,’ “but not right now. That can come later.”

He smiled dopily at you.

“You’re the best you know? I know that I say that Oscar is my best friend, but it’s actually you.”

A whine-like noise came from your throat.

“You’re my best friend too. I’ll see you in a couple of months ok? Still have to beat Dalton at football this summer.”

“You say that every year!”

“Ok and?”

“Goodnight Y/n.”

“Night Logan. Sweet dreams.”

You hung up the phone, leaving Logan alone in his little hotel apartment. He thought about what you had said. What’s the point in trying to make them believe in him anyway. They were going to throw him away like trash soon.

But you were also right. He didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. He just needed to show them what he could do, and they could feel bad about it later.

Logan set his alarms for the morning and got under the covers.

He’d show them.

His reputation has never been worse, so what’s a bit of fun until the end?

logansargeant has posted

logansargeant if I didn't have a day job, I'd spend every moment listening to you, come visit me soon - your best friend

liked by georgerussell63, williamsracing, racer.y/n, and 493,206 others

logiebear oooooo girl in the pictures - have something to tell us mr. American 🤨

lolo2024 what they did to him this weekend was unfair

sargeant2 this was my first Grand Prix and I came from Spain just to watch him! I'm so sad that now I won't get to... :(

logansargeant hey! sorry about that - let me know what you're wearing and I'll try to find you, thank you for the support 💙

sargeant2 OH MY GOSH

racer.y/n I'll see you soon ok! sorry, my day job is also taking up all my time 🧡 *liked by logansargeant*

indyxf1 HELLO Y/N L/N??

log4_ever who is she?

indyxf1 so she like grew up grew up with Logan and she currently races for McLaren Arrow (their IndyCar entry) - she's won half of their races (1/2)

sarg4president they don't deserve you Logan!

loscar_812 I thought Oscar was your best friend hmmmm??

logan&y/n uhhhh haven't you seen that Oscar has been drifting since he's gotten closer with Lando??

loscar_812 oh. yeah. :(

billsracing and I thought williams was different - not them creeping in the likes 🙄

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora

#f1 x driver!reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #logan sergeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #formula 1 x you #future grid dad lestappen #future grid dad lewis #grid bestie george #lestappen #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #reputations fic #reputations is coming #reputations

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charliemwrites · 4 months

Text

Part 7

Content: sparring and injury

Sparring is one of your favorite activities. With your team, it’s a chance to learn and improve, to keep from falling into old habits. And yes, okay, it’s also become something of foreplay. Especially with your captain, who seems to delight in tossing you around and pinning you with his bulk.

(And Keegan, who came in his pants once when you had him in a chokehold, one your thighs between his. But no, no, now is not the time to think about that…)

You’re not the best hand-to-hand operator on the team, sure. That title belongs to Nikto, who hits so hard and fast you’re down before you even realize he’s swinging. But you’re certainly a force to be reckoned with.

Not this much though.

If you were in the mood to give them credit for anything — and you’re really not — they’re at least subtle. You don’t catch on during the first round with Soap. Your brain has completely transitioned into the comfortable rhythm of practice combat. Something to be taken seriously, but not the high-stress of victory or death in a mission.

No, Soap gets away with it in the moment. You only notice as you’re taking your water break, rotated out with the uneven numbers between your teams. You’re surveying the pairs and notice him sparring with Keegan.

There’s something decidedly more intense about it. Like… like he’s putting real effort into trying to beat Keegan. An effort he did not put into fighting you.

Rage burns through you, hot and thick, buzzing in your head.

Does he think you’re not worth any real effort? Does he think you can’t handle a proper fight, that this is just playtime? Is he really treating you like some fresh-faced recruit that needs to be babied after all this time?

When you captain finishes wiping the floor with Gaz, you go to his side. One look at your face and he knows.

“Whose head is rolling?” He asks, plucking your bottle from your hand for a sip.

“Soap threw our match.”

His eyes flare before he closes them, swallows the water in his mouth and sighs.

“How do you want to handle it?” He asks.

“Wait, wait,” Gaz interrupts. And the look your captain gives him… Christ. To his credit, he doesn’t back down though. “He probably just thought it would be good, yeah? To… let you get some anger out.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, a mean laugh slipping out. The captain arches his eyebrows in what could almost be sympathy. Or arousal, hard to tell when he’s got such a good poker face. (Mix of both, you figure)

“Oh, he wants me to get some anger out?” You roll your shoulders. “Sounds like a great idea.”

Ghost is your last match before reset — before you’ll get a chance to show Soap just how much steam you need to let off.

Except now that you’re looking for it, you recognize almost immediately that he’s throwing the match. Probably especially because it’s Ghost. You never stood a chance against him before leaving, even now you didn’t have optimistic expectations for a fight with him. So the fact that it doesn’t feel like you’re working for every inch you gain…

The final straw is when you try a move from before. Something he never fell for once and always reprimanded you for using. He “falls” for it this time. You don’t pull your punch when it goes directly into his face.

Know immediately that he’s feeling it, that wicked hook Keegan always whistles over. Blinking past his mask. And you don’t let up, pressing and pressing the advantage. Take him down to the ground using all your built strength, twisting into a vicious arm bar and pulling, pulling, pulling—

“Bloody hell, I yield!” He snarls, palm slamming against your thigh.

You release him, but not without one last nasty kick to the soft spot beneath his ribs.

The gym has gone silent. You don’t care, pushing to your feet with hands still balled into tight, angry fists.

“You ever throw a fight with me again, I’ll break your fucking jaw, Riley,” you snarl.

Price, expression stormy, takes a step forward.

“He threw the fight?” He asks.

You scoff, “Either that or the 141’s quality is lacking nowadays.”

You step off the mat to join the rest of your team, exchange a frustrated look with your captain. Nova comes to your side, curling a finger into your belt loop in solidarity.

“Gotta say, Price, I’m disappointed,” your captain says. “This is getting out of control. I won’t have my team put at risk because yours can’t keep it professional. I’d rather just tell Laswell to get you a different support team.”

You’re almost surprised to see how the 141 jolts, four pairs of eyes flicking to you in panic. What in the actual hell?

“Take it easy,” Price says, eyes flashing. “I’ll have a word with them.”

You glance up at your captain, see from the twitch in his jaw and the tightness around his eyes that his patience for this is wearing gossamer thin.

“See to it. In the meantime, we’ve got work to do.”

He turns his back on the 141, and you’re all too happy to follow suit, pressing a kiss to Nova’s cheek when she sends you a worried look. Whatever weird issue the 141 is having, they need to stop making it your issue.

“Keegan, with me,” your captain says. “Nikto, you’re up against the girls.”

Nikto tilts his head in a nod, then jolts as you and Nova take either side of him.

“Gonna show us a good time, Nik?” You coo.

“Always love a tag-team,” Nova purrs.

The captain grins. “Have fun you three.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #former 141 reader #specgru reader #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley

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captainfern · 10 months

Note

REQUESTS OPEN ?!?!?!? PLEEEEASE ,MAY I ????

May i request a piece for our boi Casper ( Ghost ) 🥹🥹? Something along the idea of : mutual pining with reader being an absolute sweetheart to Ghost (and everyone else but mostly Casper) BUT it starts with Ghost trying to make reader go away by being a dick to them to avoid dealing with the feelings, reader gets hurt and upset and then turn into the most cold stone souless person every seen by mankind and ofcourse Ghost is mad and trying to fix it but how to do that when nothing works .... Confess \o/

Can be nsfw if you want it to be, I can bet on anything that no one will mind :3

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

Orion

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

[“Orion” by Metallica]

[18+]

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• summary - a bit of grumpy x sunshine. grumpy fucks it up and really, really wants to apologise lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 5k • warnings - fem!reader, grumpy!ghost at the start but that doesn't last long lol, porn with a sprinkle of plot, a bit of subby!ghost [he begs— you're fucking welcome whores 🙏], oral [f!receiving], unprotected piv, mutual masturbation, orgasm denial?, ok it's not "a bit" of sub!ghost it's a lot of sub!ghost, he whines and whimpers in this btw, praise, begging, good lord this is self-indulgent, strong language

thank you anon !! i've changed it a little, just because i don't think ghost would be a complete dick, just a grumpy and if he does act like a dick, he doesn't mean it fr <3 but i hope you like it anyway !!

and hehe yes i made it nsfw i can't resist i mean look at that man

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He was hopelessly in love with you.

And it fucking pissed him off.

How could he not be? You flounced around base, smiling and giggling at god knows what. You cooked for the task force, helped clean, kept them company in the rec-room, all with a dazzling smile plastered on your face.

You were kind and respectful, too. Always did what Price told you, like a good little rookie. Always listened to Soap's advice, improving your shooting techniques. Always understood Gaz's signals, knowing exactly what he was thinking, and what he wanted you to do. And always, always being so good for your lieutenant.

You waited on tenterhooks at every word that came from Ghost's mouth. He watched the way you listened to him, your full attention on him. Sparkling eyes watching his next move, ears in tune to the slight huff and puff of his brewing anger. It seemed you knew how to deal with his emotions better than he did.

And it pissed him off.

You never seemed to get angry with him, frustrated or upset. No matter how many times he raised his voice, reprimanded you for doing something utterly moronic. You just nodded, apologised calmly, smiled and walked away, leaving him smouldering inside his own grievances.

"What the fuck are you doing, rookie? You're in the fucking way."

"Sorry, Lieutenant!" You chirped, bounding away.

And that wasn't the only way you put up with him.

Some days were hard for Ghost, dealing with everything going on inside his head. He struggled to admit it, too. So when he found himself in the barracks kitchen at three in the morning, frustration bubbling inside him, he threw the jar he had struggled— and failed to open— at the wall. It burst, shattering into a million tiny pieces, sprinkling across the floor like shards of crystal. The contents— strawberry jam, if he remembered correctly— slugged down the wall, a vibrant red trail smearing against the paint.

You entered, maybe awoken by the shattering of glass, finding Ghost heaving silently in the kitchen, chest moving at a million miles per hour as his heart raced.

You stretched a hand in his direction. "Are you—?"

"Don't." Ghost hissed.

You retreated.

"Do you need—?"

"Didn't I fucking say don't?" Ghost snapped, eyes flashing.

He knew that was harsh. Saw it in the way your bottom lip trembled every so slightly, and your sparkling eyes dimmed in the low light of the kitchen. But, you didn't give up. Of course you fucking didn't.

He watched you silently as you grabbed the broom from the edge of the room, and began sweeping up the glass. He continued to watch as you scooped up the shards of glass, every last glittering fragment, and toss them into the bin. You even cleaned the large smear of jam off the wall, humming quietly to yourself as you did.

Ghost just watched.

Once you were done, you turned to him, offering a sympathetic smile. Then, you walked to the refrigerator and plucked another jar of jam from the door. You offered it to him, still smiling.

"This one's raspberry. Not strawberry, unfortunately, but I think it tastes better, anyway." Maybe you were just trying to make him feel better. If you did, it worked. Spitefully well, too.

He took it from you. He didn't thank you, though, just turned away with a muffled sigh. You continued to look at him, a soft smile still on your lips.

He wondered if you were expecting a thank you. Probably. So when he went to open his mouth, when he went to mutter out a thank you, he turned, and you were gone, shuffling out of the kitchen, still humming to yourself.

A week later, Ghost was still intent on denying whatever it was he felt for you.

The five of you on a day off, relaxing around the rec-room. You played pool with Gaz, laughing. Melodic. You looked so carefree, so effortlessly beautiful, and it made Ghost's cheeks heat up beneath his mask. Fucking hell.

You were quite handsy with the sergeant, too, Ghost noticed. Hugging and touching, arms around his waist, fingers trailing his arms. Ghost watched from across the room, seething silently. Gaz made you laugh again. Again and again and the sound of your laughter was making the grip Ghost had on his glass almost earth-shattering. All white-knuckle and pure jealously. Not like he admitted that to himself, though.

You eventually turned your pretty face towards Ghost, lips curved.

"Fancy a game, L.T?" You battered your eyelashes, biting your lower lip briefly. Or was that in Ghost's head?

"Pass." Ghost forced himself to grunt, heat blooming in his chest.

You pouted. "Aw, come on, Ghost—!"

"Pass." Ghost repeated, cutting you off with his deep baritone.

You closed your mouth, but still his grumpiness didn't deter you. You shrugged to yourself, turning back to Gaz with that signature smile of yours.

"Another round then, Garrick?"

"You're on."

A few days after that, Ghost was reaching his breaking point.

He was trying everything in his right mind to keep you away from him. To stop you from being such a goddamn angel, doting on his every doing. He wanted you to see who he really was, who he felt like he really was.

You were particularly happy this day. Seemingly bouncing around the barracks, the pure essence of you permeating the entire space— burning white, tooth-rotting sweetness, smelling of everything that Ghost loved. Loved about you. Fuck, he was mad.

You circled the room, hugging each of your comrades. You hugged Price like the father-figure he was. Short and sweet, but warm and comforting. You had your head to his chest, mumbling something that made Price smile, eyes squinting.

Then you hugged Soap. The bastard swept you off your feet, making you giggle. He said something to you that had you snorting out a bemused laugh, smacking him lightly on the chest when he put you down. He pat you gently on the head before you were sprinting to Gaz.

The way your face lit up made Ghost's heart clench.

You practically threw yourself into Gaz's arms, your arms around his shoulders as his circled your waist. He pressed you close— too close for Ghost's liking— rocking you gently as you thanked him. For what? What the hell were you thanking him for?

After what seemed like an eternity of Ghost burning daggers into you and the sergeant, you broke away, and began to approach Ghost. He froze in place, back to the kitchen counter. What were you doing? Approaching him looking so happy and perfect?

He acted out. On instinct.

You opened your arms, and he skulked away.

"Don't you dare," he grumbled, backing away. "I am not in the mood for whatever it is you're doing today, rookie."

Your smile faltered. A millisecond. "But, Ghost—?"

"Seriously, rookie," Ghost said sternly. "What's got you acting like this at eight in the morning?"

At that very moment, he felt his heart break into thousands of pieces.

Your smile dropped.

The glimmer in your eyes faded.

Without a word, you left the room, and Gaz hurried after you. Ghost followed your departing form with curious eyes. Then, he turned to Price and Soap, who were looking at him in dissapointment.

"What?" He gritted, jaw ticking.

"You're a fool, L.T. A real fool." Soap shook his head slowly.

Ghost huffed. "What d'you mean?"

"You're always acting like a complete dick to her," Soap continued. "Even on her birthday."

Ghost's heart leapt into his throat, stomach twisting, making him nauseous.

"Her... birthday?" Ghost tried not to let the waver in his voice sound through.

Soap nodded. "Yeah. S'why she's in such a good mood. Gaz got her something nice, I think—"

"What Soap's trying to say is that you, being a stubborn prick, has made her special day... not so special." Price added, digging a cigar and a lighter from his pocket. He left the room, heading outside, offering no more words, making Ghost's nervousness swell.

He turned to Soap, desperation clawing his insides. "What should I—?"

"Go and apologise, ya fuckhead." Soap beat him to it.

Wordlessly, Ghost left, hurrying towards your bedroom. When he got there, Gaz was just leaving, and the sergeant gave the lieutenant a stern look.

Ghost was almost breathless. "I need—"

"No, you don't, Ghost," Gaz said softly. "You've done enough."

"But—?"

"Seriously, Ghost, just leave," Gaz continued. "You're always so grumpy towards her, anyway. Just leave it."

He pushed past Ghost. Ghost stood outside your door, the urge to open it almost overwhelming. But he didn't. Hands in fists, nails digging into his palms, he walked away.

He needed to hit something.

•º•

You successfully avoided him for a week. He commended you internally for your ability to avoid him like the fucking plague. But, he hated it. He hated the way he made you feel, and he hated the way you were making him feel. His emotions were all over the place, and he desperately needed to get them in check.

So, he came to a conclusion.

He needed to apologise.

Well, he had been trying to. You weren't having any of it. He respected that.

But now, he was inching past his ability to remain respectful. Each time your smile faded when he entered the room; each time you ignored a simple favour or request of his; each time you wrapped yourself into Gaz's arms after a long, strenuous mission.

That sent him over the edge.

It was a stormy night, complete with heavy rain and the distant roll of thunder, when Ghost idled outside your bedroom door. He was a war-machine, a killer— but he was desperately working himself up to knock on your door. He was nervous.

So when he did finally knock, his heartrate was elevated.

You opened the door a crack, peering into the shadowed hallway. Ghost saw your eyes flicker across his body; how rich they were in emotion. He rushed forward and quickly jammed his foot in the door, noticing you begin to push it closed.

"What do you want?" You hissed, so devoid of your usual sunshine.

"Can... can I talk to you?"

A moment passed. Then, you opened the door, and let him inside.

Your room was exactly how Ghost had imagined it. Just like you. Warm, cozy, sweet-smelling. It was dripping in everything that was you. Ghost inhaled deeply, watching as you plonked yourself down on the edge of your bed, body illuminated by the soft golden light of your lamp.

You crossed your arms over your chest. "Well?"

Ghost just released it all. Everything he wanted to tell you, he did. He apologised profusely, again and again. He admitted to being a complete dickhead, and then apologised for that. He thanked you for putting up with him, for listening to him, for understanding him so well. And at the end of it all, he confessed.

"I'm in love with you."

You gaped at him.

"Always have been."

You were at a loss for words.

But Ghost wasn't. For the first time in a long time, he wasn't.

"I love you, rookie. I really do."

You blinked at him, then slowly got to your feet. He watched you, heart slamming against his ribcage, cheeks stinging hot beneath the fabric of his balaclava. He watched as you neared, lifting your hands to cup his face over the material.

"Prove it."

Ghost swallowed, throat dry all of a sudden. "What?"

"Prove how much you love me." You whispered, biting your lower lip.

This time, Ghost knew the action wasn't just in his head.

Because when he pressed closer to you, placing his gloved hands on your waist, he saw you release your bottom lip and curl your mouth into a smile. The smile he loved.

"I'm sorry, for everything." Ghost whispered as he backed you towards your bed.

"I know," you said, sitting on your bed and hooking your legs around his waist, pulling him down on top of you. "So show me."

Ghost couldn't help himself. Even with the mask still on, he slammed his mouth onto yours. He expected some kind of protest as he parted his lips, tongue pressing to the smooth fabric, heat and moisture smothering yours. But you didn't— you sighed outwardly, becoming pliant as you moved your own lips, revelling in the solid heat of his tongue against your own through the fabric.

He let out a low sound, a mix between a grunt and a whine, as he pressed himself closer to you. He was slowly getting frustrated by the material barrier as he kissed you. He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to the lower part of his mask. It snapped, and made Ghost's breath hitch.

It's like you could read his mind as you looked into his eyes.

"You wanna take it off?" You asked, fingers at his neck, where the end of the balaclava sat snugly near the base. Your fingers squeezed gently, and he exhaled loudly.

He whined, hushed, from the back of his throat. "Yeah..."

"Yeah?" You grinned, gently rolling the mask upwards. It cleared his neck, then over his jaw, exposing his mouth and nose, before finally being ripped from his head entirely, leaving him exposed to you.

He usually would have felt nervous. Self-conscious, definitely. But not tonight. Not when, as a clap of thunder sounded outside, you moaned at the sight of him, and yanked his face back towards your own. It made his cock harden, painful in his cargos, as your mouths interlocked again. Your tongue swept into his first, and he let out another low noise, your fingers tugging at the roots of his hair.

Ghost shifted you both, making sure your head touched your pillows, resting comfortably. Still kissing, his hands explored down your body, skimming your sides, your thighs. Your hands tightened in his hair when one of his hands drifted inwards, brushing your upper inner thigh. He panted as you pulled him away from you, blond locks clutched in your fist. He looked down at you, eyes and lips just as glossy as each other, cheeks pink.

"You still want to apologise?" You asked, other hand drawing around his face and cupping his jaw.

He nodded, slightly, not doing much in your grip.

"Good," you hummed, pleased. "Get on the floor."

He did as he was told. Straight a-fucking-way. Now kneeling on the floor beside your bed, you sat on the edge. Slowly, ever so slowly, you pulled down your pyjama pants. Ghost watched you, completely rapt, as your fingers worked your underwear down your legs.

"Fucking hell..." He whispered as you kicked your underwear away.

You put your backside onto the edge of your bed, beckoning him closer. He shuffled further, and you placed your legs across his shoulders as his hands snaked up to grab at your thighs. Your core was bare to him under the golden lamplight, practically glistening. He withheld a moan as he leaned forward, attempting to put his mouth on you. But, you stopped him— clamping your thighs on either side of his head.

This time, he did let his moan out, high and breathy as he looked up at you through long, blond lashes, head encased between the plush of your thighs.

You looked down at him, tutting. "What do you want?"

He blinked at you, eyes narrowing slightly.

You flexed the muscles of your legs, tightening the weight of your thighs against his ears and cheeks. He grunted, closing his eyes.

"Well?" You prompted. "Tell me, Si."

Maybe it was the use of the nickname, of his real name. Maybe it was the heat of your flesh searing the sides of his head. Maybe it was the way his erection was growing impossibly hard inside his pants. Whatever it was made Ghost whimper. Fucking whimper.

Embarrassment, red hot, flared across his face.

"Want to taste you," he whispered, face burning. "Please."

"This is how you wanna apologise?" You teased, bringing a hand down to his head, massaging his scalp. "Wanna make me cum on your tongue?"

He tried his best to reply, groaning deep from his chest, hands kneading the flesh of your thighs. "Please, baby, please."

You chuckled, releasing the tension in your legs. "Only because you asked so nicely."

Ghost was elated. He practically surged forward, licking a fat stripe up your slit. You mewled, hands clinging to his hair, as he ran his tongue up and down your folds. He repeated his actions, before dragging his tongue downwards, circling your dripping hole. Nose nudging your clit, his tongue delved inside you, making you shudder.

He was in heaven. The small, breathy noises you were making; the way you gripped and pulled at his slightly grown-out hair; the taste of your arousal that was leaking out of you. His cock jumped with each stroke of his tongue, his own arousal building with each subtle sound he elicited from your pretty mouth. His large, gloved hands massaged your thighs, groping the soft flesh. He enjoyed the warmth near the sides of his head.

"Feels good, Si." You breathed, and Ghost's cock jumped again.

He groaned into you, vibrations sending your mind spiralling. Heat was building in the base of your tummy as his nose continually nudged against your swollen clit. Ghost was grunting and groaning quietly into your sopping cunt, lapping up every bit of arousal he could. Pearls of it slipped past his lips, rolling down his chin, iridescent in the light. He didn't care. Of course he didn't. He was fucking loving it.

You moaned again when Ghost quickly moved his tongue in a zig-zag motion up your slit, before sucking your clit into his mouth, front teeth grazing it gently. Your hips bucked, urging him closer.

"Si, oh my god— ha, fuck— feels so good," you keened, pleasure unfurling inside you. "Fuck, doing so good, Si. Such a good boy—"

Ghost short-circuited as you came in his mouth. He dipped his head to stuff his tongue back into your hole just in time, catching your release in his mouth. But your breathy words, good boy, echoed around his skull and made him whine, impossibly loud, into your cunt. He felt his stomach pang, balls tightening, before he fucking came in his pants, whispering your name into your fluttering hole.

His face grew hotter than it already was when he pulled away from you, dragging his right cheek across your inner thigh, light stubble tickling you. You breathed deeply above him, watching with hooded eyes as he placed a line of gentle kisses from your bikini line to your knee.

You massaged his scalp, and his eyes fluttered.

He was wondering if you noticed that he—

You released a breathy laugh, and his eyes snapped open, immediately finding yours. You tugged your legs away, planting them on the floor. Ghost continued to kneel in front of you.

"Aww, my poor baby," you muttered, and it would've been patronising if Ghost wasn't so whipped right now. "D'you cum already?"

He grit his teeth. "Don't—"

"S'okay, Si, it's okay," you smiled, patting his burning cheek. "I understand. I tasted that good, huh?"

You laughed again, another roll of thunder cracking outside. Ghost nodded, ashamed almost, but not regretful. He'd die a happy man if he could spend even another second in your wet cunt.

"Come on then," you said suddenly, scooting back onto your bed. "Since you're so desperate, right?"

He looked at you and then slowly got to his feet, legs trembling slightly.

You leaned against your pillow— looking like an absolute angel— spreading your legs as you wiggled your bra off, exposing your tits. Ghost's cock grew again, sticky with his own spend. You dragged your hands over your tits, tweaking your nipples while Ghost clambered onto the bed, kneeling between your legs. He was still fully dressed.

Not for long, clearly.

"Clothes." You said simply, and he obeyed.

Your hands dragged down your body, skirting across your stomach as Ghost pulled his gloves and shirt off, his trousers following. He huffed, pulling his underwear off and dumping them on the floor, ignoring the obvious that was splattered inside. Now bare, he kneeled back between your legs, a hand settling on one of your ankles, the other gripping the base of his cock.

Your hands dipped between your legs, and he let out a gravelly whine as you pushed two fingers into your wet cunt, the other hand moving a finger to your puffy clit. He was salivating.

"You know, I've liked you for a long time, Si," you said, voice a bit whiny. Ghost licked his lips. You continued, voice a whisper. "Mm... 's how I touched myself thinking about you."

You demonstrated perfectly; two fingers knuckle deep in your hole, another pressing tight circles to your clit. You mewled his name.

"Oh, fuck." Ghost whispered, hips and cock bucking into his fist. Just once. The look you gave him made him pause. All fucked out, blissful, in complete and utter control.

"Mhm, yeah— my grumpy lieutenant, always telling me what to do. Always so rough with me," you crooned as you fucked yourself with your fingers, Ghost's eyes burning into you as he lazily stroked himself. "S'just... that's not you, is it, Si? You don't wanna be rough with me, do you? You just wanna be my good boy, I know."

Ghost whined, releasing his cock and crawling up to you. He grabbed your hands, pulling them away from your cunt, much to your amusement.

"Fucking Christ, don't say that—" Ghost hissed as he brought your hand to his face, drawing your two fingers into his mouth and sucking your arousal clean off.

You smiled. "What? Considering you came in your boxers untouched, I'd say you like being called that."

Ghost groaned, fingers leaving his mouth with a wet pop. A string of saliva followed, and it broke when he chased past your hand, pressing his mouth to yours. You kissed, hot and heavy, for a minute, the rain hammering the roof outside. You moved a hand down, skating down his abs, before gripping his cock.

"Hah—" He breathed, gasping into your mouth as you pumped him, fingers wet with his saliva.

You kissed him still: sloppily, as you jerked him off. He barely responded, lips pliant against yours, eyes closed as the pleasure of your hand around his cock sent him into a daze. You licked into his mouth, his tongue struggling to meet yours, as you pumped him faster and faster until you could feel him twitching in your hand.

"Mmm... gonna..." Ghost murmured, drunk, against your mouth.

You pulled your hand away.

"Ah— fuck no," Ghost swallowed a frustrated moan, voice muted as you pushed his head away.

You licked your lips as you looked at him. He could've cum from that sight alone.

"You want to make it up to me, right?" You asked.

He nodded, cheeks red.

You leaned in close, pressing a kiss to the curve of his jaw. "Then fuck me."

Ghost's mouth dropped open in a short lived moan before you were kissing him. Kissing him so hard it made him dizzy; high off the sweet taste of you.

Meanwhile, he was clumsily aligning his cock with your wet cunt, his tip reddened and leaking pre, rolling in rivulets down the sides of his rigid cock. The head notched your entrance, and you released a shaky breath. He pulled out of the kiss.

"You... alright?" He asked, sounding more than a little breathless.

You nodded. "Mmmfuck, yeah."

"You sure?" He asked, the head of his cock sitting heavy at your entrance.

You looked him directly in the eyes, and he released a low sound, bending to kiss you again.

"Please," you said into the kiss. "Need you to fuck me, Si."

"Okay," he murmured, dragging his lips along your jaw. "Okay, okay, fuck, okay—"

He eased his cock into you as he mumbled incoherently, cursing. You were so wet, so warm, so fucking tight. He nipped at your neck, distracting himself so he didn't cum straight away because he did not need that kind of embarrassment haunting him for the rest of his life. Your arms curled around his broad shoulders, fingers flexing along the rigid plains of his muscles, tips brushing each smooth scar.

"That's it, Si, that's it," you told him, lips to the shell of his ear. "Feels good— so full."

He whimpered into your neck, face and body hot as his cock sunk further into you. His hips slapped to yours as he finally bottomed out, just as he moved himself out of your neck so that he could look down at you. As usual, you looked absolutely stunning; eyes glazed, kiss-bitten lips parted.

He couldn't help himself.

"You're beautiful," he said as he pulled his cock all the way out, before slamming back into you. "So beautiful... so pretty... such a pretty girl."

You hummed a moan past the smile spreading on your lips, Ghost finding a pace and rhythm as he bullied his cock into your wet heat over and over again, heavy balls slapping the curve of your arse as you were jolted against your mattress.

Ghost's hands were all over your body, as if he was committing it to memory. Running up and down your sides, groping along your tits, fingers dancing across your throat. Large hands moved to your thighs, massaging the plush flesh. Gently, he grasped the backs of your knees and slowly pushed your legs upwards, towards your chest. You smiled lazily at him as, still drilling his cock into you, he tucked your legs to your chest, pressing his body impossibly closer.

You tossed your head back, moaning loudly at the new angle. His warm hands on your legs, the heat of his hard body against yours, his fat cock stuffing you full. The sounds he was making. You were incased in pure ecstasy.

Ghost was a whimpering, whining mess above you. The big boy with the skull-face, so dangerous and imposing and deadly, reduced to such a sensitive, desperate being.

He was still whispering things under his breath, eyes periodically closing each time your cunt pulsed around him.

"S-such a pretty girl, my pretty girl," he uttered before a keening moan. "Hah—fuck— mmm—my god."

Already, you noticed the shift in his pace and thrusts; growing sloppier, yet he still nailed that spongey spot inside you that made you dig your nails harder into his back, stretching you tighter.

"Feels good, Si?" You prompted as he flopped his head back into the crook of your neck, hulking figure still pinning your legs to your chest, his hands heavy on your thighs.

"So good," he whispered into your neck. "So good, baby, fuck— 'm not gonna last."

You arched closer into him as the head of his cock kissed your womb. You could feel him in your stomach, and clearly, so could Ghost. He moved backwards, out of your neck, parting your bent legs. He could see the imprint of his cock deep inside you, a small bump in the soft mound of your tummy. He groaned deeply, pressing a hand to it. Then, you both moaned in unison, before he was snapping your legs back against your chest and spearing his cock inside you with newfound vigour.

"Gonna cum Si." You told him, pressing kisses along his face.

"Yeah?" He caught your lips, licking into your mouth for a second. "Yeah, come on then, baby, please."

A thick jumble of come on baby, come on's left his mouth, followed by almost pitiful please's.

You came around his cock as the rain hit the roof, a flash of lightening appearing behind the curtains of your window.

"Simon—!" You gasped.

Your sounds, your smell, your everything was making Ghost go fucking insane. Your cunt squeezed him as you came, your arousal amplifying and slicking each of his desperate movements. His cock sunk in and out of you with wet faps as he barrelled towards his orgasm.

"Hah... hah... fuck— m'gonna— hngh fuck— w-where do you want me?"

He was still so deep inside you. How could you say anything else but; "Inside, please, Si."

"Ah, t-thank fuck—" Ghost muttered, making you smile up at the ceiling, eyes blinking slowly.

His whole body was burning up as his orgasm crashed over him. He thrusted once, twice, getting as deep as he could, as he came inside you. He moaned, stifling it in your neck, rutting himself against you as you were filled with rope after rope of warmth.

"Good boy, Si, so good..." You murmured as he fucked his cum into you, broad figure shuddering as he caught his breath, your fingers raking down his back.

"Fucking hell..." He whispered.

His movements stopped, and the both of you took a moment to catch your breaths. You were still pressed tight to one another, his cock stuffed inside you, barely beginning to soften.

You ran your hands down his back as he released your legs, allowing you to flop them against your bed as he settled on top of you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, nuzzling his nose along the curve of your shoulder and neck, nosing the junction of your jaw below your ear. He placed a kiss to the soft skin.

You both listened to the heavy rain loud against the roof.

"You alright?" You asked, running your fingers through his overgrown military-grade cut. I guess the mask meant he didn't have to get a haircut as often.

He hummed sleepily against you. "Yeah, love."

A beat passed, then; "You alright?"

You smiled. "I'm good. Really good."

He kissed the spot below your ear again. "Good."

Comfortable silence again. Ghost felt as though he was on cloud nine— curled up with you, satiated and happy, his cock still deep inside your cunt, which was now slowly overflowing with his cum, leaking onto the bed. He pressed his nose to the pulse-point near your ear. You smelled so good.

And to top it all off—

"I love you, Si."

He felt his heart explode.

He hugged you tighter. "I love you too."

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

would ghost ever do this "irl"? absolutely not. is this fictional and am i delusional? one hundred percent.

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #ghost x f!reader #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost smut #ghost call of duty #cod smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #captain’smetallica

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lady-ashfade · 4 months

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Following The Tune

Percy Jackson x UnknownGod! Half-blood reader. (The reader is the child of the “Unknown” god, other wise known as Caias)

—£ Again, I have not finish the books so I’m making up my own gods/plot and stuff. I just find it fun. Also, reader has a sword like Percy, the pen.

—£ This is just a plot i made up, I just have a oc story in like so I did it! Please don’t hate because it has nothing to do with anything really (Or maybe it does)

—£ Warnings: Slight!Oc!Reader, slight angst, new lore to follow, all over the place, comfort.

The moment you laid your eyes on Percy Jackson- you knew he was different. Everything about him sang a different song the rest here. It was a familiar tone. When you learnt of what he had to face to get here made you guilty, knowing while you were dry and safe he had to face that same doom you faced.

“Maybe, just maybe…” you whispered while he slept. He look almost peaceful but the crinkle in his brows said another thing. Taking a step forward you close your eyes and tried to listen for something. Your senses elevate as you tried to sniff him out. Every was calling out but you couldn’t hold it for too long.

A creek in the floor boards threw you off and took you out of your powers, turning around there stood annabeth with a raised brow and her arms crossed. “I told you not to be in here.” You sighed and picked up your bag. Walking passed her and out of the door but she caught your wrist in her hands. “What did you feel?”

Snatching your arm away from her, a annoyed huff left your lips. “Nothing, not like you ever listen anyway.” You made it out the door before she could say anything to stop you. Now, you didn’t hate annabeth. It was just, no one ever liked to listen to you. She always thought she knew everything and when someone needed something from you- They tried to suck up to you.

But in the years you could call her somewhat of a friend, like everyone else. But there was no trust.

Which is way you made it out of the camp in the same way you always have, with no one noticing. You were the only half-blood in your cabin, no one to stick with at times. So being alone made it easy to slip away from time to time but it was always dangerous to go out. But you always had luck on your side.

Taking a step through the barrier you smiled feeling the human feeling of the air. Making your way to the road you followed, stopped a few times to figure your way to things. Took a few buses with the money you hoarded.

Smirking when you stepped out on the pavement at your destination. It stunk. The streets sang with chatting of all the mortals, and the smell of greasy food. “Home.” Is what it reminded you of but there was a stench you didn’t like but continued to go about your way into the apartment building.

The empty cabin was looked over by Chiron and Grover, Luke standing by with his arm crossed. “How can they keep getting out like that? I don’t understand.” Grover pondered his thoughts out loud. “Get it from their farther.” Luke commented and shrugged, he smirked again at the thought of you.

“They’ll be safe, hopefully. Does anyone know why they lift this time?” Chiron looked at the boys as the taller one just shrugged again almost uninterested. Grocer shifted nervously and he looked down trying to not say anything but he gave up when the attention was on him.

“They visited Percy before they left. I don’t know why, maybe that has something to do with it?” The older man sighed and closed his eyes, the stress lines already showing. He nodded and walked out without a word while the boys looked at each other. It was a worried look but all they could do was await your return.

It was stupid. He was stupid. He smelled. The apartment smelled of beer that burned your noses and gave you a headache. All he did was sit on the couch and scream at the computer in his lap as you stared at him behind the wall. He was to busy to hear the door open. But you were thankful as his attention was so focused on the screen that he didn’t notice you. All you had to do was focus.

Closing your eyes you calm yourself and let your senses take over and watch for you. Slowly you got ahold of his mind which was dirty to look at, that it made you feel filthy. Making him tired you heard him yawn and feel his body start to give up. Opening your eyes you watch him drift off while he was confused as to why he felt so tired.

Once he was out cold you walked around the apartment with one idea in mind. To find a photo. Sally Jackson and her younger son, Percy Jackson. They weren’t hard to find and you found a wall of them on in the hallway. So many pictures of the family. He was so little and smiling with no clue of the hard world he knew now, his mother still by his side. But all of them had Gabe in them while little Percy glares daggers at him.

Moving on you looked on the tables for just a single photo to take back to him, one small memory to have with him. Then one image become clear.

“Don’t go to far,” her voice sounded lovely. The sun beaming down on the two of them, the sound of waves soothed the soul. “I wouldn’t mom.” It was Percy, you could seem them clearly. The day was beautiful. She smiled at her son as she watches him run off towards the waves, she knew. Watching him play in the water gave a high pitched sound in your ears.

This memory was different. You didn’t search for it. It was a forbidden memory.

The scene became dark and windy. No one seemed to notice and continued to play and smiled like they were. The waves clashed harder on the shore as the wind whistled through the ears. In the both places you covered your ears and tried to pull yourself out of it but nothing was working. Thunder clashed down from the clouds near the sand you walked one, making you jump each time.

“You wish to know? Weak, so very weak. I only show the truth little one,” the darken voice made you tense and watch black smoke come closer as it swallowed everything up. “Just like your father, always looking for trouble. But unlike him, you aren’t as well hidden.” Sometime touched your face, making you scream out in pain as it stung your cheek.

“Let this be known.”

You were pulled out, crushing over for your breath. Placing a hand up on your cheek you felt the pain and wet feeling, pulling it back you saw the red stain. “Blood.” Panicked you looked at the picture that gave you the vision and grabbed ahold of it. It was a core memory, one not to be messed with. Grabbing ahold of it you threw it in your bag quickly.

You frozen when you smelled that dreadful smell again, the sound of something heavy making the flooring creek. Turning around slightly your eyes went wide and took a step back trying to keep yourself from screaming. The large black figure with claws bigger then your face as it’s body took up all the hallway it squeezed itself into. It was your blood. It smelled you.

The green scales on it’s legs you could see made you feel sick, the empty face made you go white. Sprinting to the open window where the fire escaped was it knew what you were going to do and followed you, reaching out for you. Jumping over the railing and down the steps you cried out in fear as it crawled down the building. The screeching alone made you go crazy.

It was one of the faceless. Something your father had made, something that should have been on your side. But your father lost his war to hades and everything had been taken from him. He went into hiding, ignoring the prayers to him and turned his back on mortals. Until he had you. One last chance to be forgiven and have something to his name.

But he was coward, he lost his war and mind. There was nothing in him that you wanted to call your father, for his creations killed your mother. Maybe that’s why you wanted Percy to have the one thing you did not. Something to look at and never forget her face, her smile, the warmth.

“No, No. Nope.” You jumped down and the other way into the alleyway to get out of sight from people. From your pocket a pen, the cape flipped off and the shining blade lit up the shade. The figure come into the alley and looked at you, moving so slowly towards you. It wasn’t a smart choice but your parent wasn’t known for his smarts. But fleeing was.

Just one step…

Blackness started to take over your vision and you limped over the camp line, holding your stomach as something warm and sticky leaked all over your shirt. You used all your might to get to the camp alive, once you did your body gave out. Muffed voices called out to you but you couldn’t see clearly as blurry outlines leaned over you. When you were picked up the last thing you could remember was someone calling’s your name but you didn’t know who.

Percy watch in confusion as someone was rushed away, no one was saying anything. They were blood red, huge cuts across their shirt and skin. As he stared at them he could remember something he saw in a dream. That face…was watching him for a moment while he slept.

Something blinding hit his eyes and made him turn away. He blinked a few times and stepped back to see what it was. A brown frame facedown in the grass, it looked broken and bloody. He bends down and picked up the backpack, then the picture frame.

“Don’t go too far Percy.”

He saw his mom standing in a sunhat while her hair blew over her face, her arm wrapped around his smaller body. The cartoon shark trunks made him cringe, he used to never go swimming without them. This was a picture of him and his mom….What was it doing here? And why was it with someone he didn’t know.

The frame was broken, the glass shattered but he managed to pull the picture out and stand up when Grover called for him. He threw the bag over his shoulders and followed to the room were they had brought the camper he didn’t know. Percy refused to leave, he needed to talk to them. Everything was so confusing and maybe he could get some answers.

He stood at the corner of your room while watching over you, almost protectively. Percy clings onto the photo of his mom, while staying with you. Even started to eat lunch in your room and desperately waited for you to wake. You mumbled in your sleep while panicked and sweating up a storm. The meds they have you took longer to work and the cut on your cheek seemed to stay black while healing, a permanent scar.

“Percy…” the soft voice caught him off guard. Looking at you he noticed you still out like a light. You repeated the words his mother said just as sweet and caring.

Twitching in the bed, you started to groan louder and try to speak but nothing back out of your mouth. Seeing such destress made him scared, it was unlike anything he has seen before. “Y/n.” He walked close to the bed. He learned your name from the others.

“Wake up,” he shook you slightly in hopes to make you somehow wake up. Your body felt hot, too hot. “You’re freaking me out.” Maybe if I hit them with a pillow it will work, he thought to himself. A few seconds of pushing your shoulders and calling your name, he finally saw your eyes open for the first time.

Shifting your eyes in the light and away from the blurry vision you were spooked when something grabbed ahold of you. Jumping back you shoved his hands away, going as far back as possible. The last thing you remember was the faceless creature.

But you didn’t see the creature, but a boy with his hands held out in front of himself. The look on his face matching the slight fear and confusion you felt. “Percy?” You whispered and tilted your head to the side. He nodded and slowly lowered his arms while looking over you for any sign not to trust you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I get that a lot.” He half joked full of sarcasms.

“No, no. You need to leave.” Your hands grip the side of the bed. It clicked in his brain that you didn’t move from your curled up place on the bed, your body still tense and shaking. You were scared of him.

“I’m not going to hurt you- Really, I just want answers.” He inched back to make you more comfortable. You watch him point to the corner, “You had a picture of me and my mom, why?” You look at the photo on the table and then back to him. You kept quiet and looked at the door trying to get him to leave but he didn’t budge.

His nose let out of huff, “Look, I’m not mad- Kinda weirded out but, I just want need some type of answer. No one around me tells me anything. Just give me something.” That’s when you saw him, truly saw him.

You looked at your younger self, standing before you with teary eyes while holding themselves close. No one wanted anything to do with you. It was easy to be forgotten and bullied. A nobody begging for a chance to prove themselves. Percy Jackson was just searching for a place in this world like you.

“I saw you the night before you came. I saw your mother, I saw everything happening but I had no clue.” Pulling your legs up and crossing them while covering yourself with your arms. “You deserve a photo of her, something I never had. Sometimes i follow the tone that’s showed to me,” Percy sat down on the bed listening to your story with all his attention and you could see his guilt, sadness and confusion.

“I heard the tone when I lost my mom, when I was claimed,” you look at the bed next to you, “And when i saw you enter the camp.”

“What does that mean?” Your shoulders go up and down as you hum without a true answer. “That you’re important.” His own shoulders drop down as he looked down at the floor in defeat. He got answers with the price of more questions

It was silent in the room. It was slightly uncomfortable but you could handle it. Then he spoke up, “Thank you by the way, it’s nice to see her.” You meet his eyes once’s again.

“You’re welcome, Percy.” Both your lips curled into a small smile. Maybe new friends were to be made this year.

#disney plus percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson x reader #plantonic percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 6 months

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Halloween prompts year 2 day 30

Danny became aware suddenly, the memory of his mothers parting shot as he fled fresh in his mind. He panicked, thrashing around in what felt like a thick liquid when his hand hit what felt like a wall of glass.

A tube? Was Danny floating in a freaking vat somewhere? He didn't remember anything after being shot down by his mom but he knew if he was in a lab somewhere he needed to escape!

In moments he was on the ground surrounded by wierd fluid and shattered glass. He ripped the oxygen mask off his face and threw it away from him as a violent shiver wracked his body.

Looking up he was surprised. He was expecting the bright shiney metal of his parents lab, or the white of the GIW lab, heck, even the wierd purple thing Vlad sometimes had going on would have made sense. As much as he would have hated to have been saved by the fruitloop, it would have been a familiar fight.

The devil you know and all that.

But no, this lab was all dull blacks, dark grays and inky shadows. The tubes around him bathing the atmosphere in a soft green glow that barely illuminated anything.

Great. Wonderful. Just what he needed. More people making more problems for him.

Danny picked himself up off the ground, shuttering again and was surprised to realize he didn't have any clothes on.

Danny decided that whoever had kidnapped him was going to get acquainted the Anti-creep stick. Luckly there was a closet nearby with what looked like a superhero costume in it. Okay. Hes dealt with weirder situations.

He put most of the suit on, leaving behind the cape, mask and chest straps. Danny had to admit he liked the red and black look. The gold was a nice touch...too...

Oh no. Where these supervillian clothes?! Red and black are totally Saturday morning cartoon villian colors! His mind started whirling, somthing that it doesn't usually do as he made his way over to the darkened computer almost by instinct.

Then he looked up.

There wasn't a lot of light in this place, but there was enough to see his reflection in the blackness of the computer monitor. One problem.

That wasn't his face.

He was as this strangers face twisted into confusion and horror. Was he overshadowing somebody? No. No...he was...Tim Drake? He watched as his reflection furrowed his brows.

No. He was Danny Fenton, son of Jack and Maddie Fenton. Local mad scientists.

But...he was Tim Drake, son of Jack and Janet Drake. Archeologists.

A distressed sound left his throat as he slid to the floor, two entire lifetimes flashing before his eyes as he tried to figure out what was real. He tried using his powers but nothing happened. That should have answered everything, right?

But that wouldn't explain how he had shattered the entirety of the thick glass of his tube prison. The glass had been completely shattered and landed in a circle around the tubes base in a way no punch could have done, no matter how powerful. Does he have powers that are simply unavailable right now or is there another explanation?

Either way he should probably wear a mask so people don't ask why Tim Drake is dressed as Red Robin, huh?

Oh god. Red Robin.

He woke up in a cloning pod in one of Red Robins secret labs! He remembered Jack, Maddie, other Jack, and Janet's treatment of him. He recalled each and every dismissive comment, every empty promise. Every time the bleachers were empty at his vollyball games. Every time he was left home alone for an "important" dig. Every time his parents ran off because a ghost might be nearby. Every time Tim would throw everything to the wayside to focus on a case. Every time Tim would throw away his own health and well being for a goal. Every time...

Danny straightened up and pulled himself off the floor before he started typing away at the computer and planning his next moves.

Regardless of what was happening, if he was Danny overshadowing a clone or if his life as Fenton was just a dream from a pod, he knew one thing for sure.

He did not need another neglectful parent.

Aka Danny runs around Gotham avoiding the bats, the press, the rogues, the petty criminals, the mob, and the police. He fails of course and manages to somehow make enemies out of everyone all while having a massive identity crisis and searching for a new home far far away from here before Tim Drake figures out who he really is...

#halloween prompts #dpxdc #prompts #tim drake #danny fenton #identity crisis #you choose whats real ;)#fanfiction prompts #danny phantom #red robin #yum #red robin dc #tim just got done dirty like that huh #are there other clones in the pods or are they empty? maybe...something else is inside them? or someone?#danny might be deaged if you want #danny is so stressed he wants to cry #he thinks about getting adopted by someone. he wants ma and pa kent but that would lead to tim1 knowing where he is #and he never wants to see Tim 1. Ever. hes been let down by to many adults in his life and is convinced Tim 1 wouldnt be any different

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hotchfiles · 2 months

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↪ day six. perfectionism — #marchhotchness

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ wool to brave the season ❞ ─ a choiceless hope blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader. summary: but as you sat down on the floor of the crappy hotel, sharing bad coffee and feeling his warmth by your side, you knew that you wouldn’t have him any other way. even if you don’t really have him. content warnings: set before the first part. you can read it without reading the rest tho. just a bit of angst and idiots in love and partnership and criminal minds canon descriptions of crimes. word count: 800+

you woke up to the faint sound of shuffling of paper, the room was mostly dark and chilly, the clock on your bedside strikes two in the morning. you didn’t have to look to know, but still, you checked the other bed finding it empty, a source of light coming from steps ahead on the small hotel room showed you the prettiest scene.

your partner in his pajamas, coffee pot and cup next to the lamp on the desk, his eyes were glued to the files and the thick book under them, which you imagined to be the crime classification manual.

the team had been briefed on the way there, but arriving in seattle after dinner time made the plan of getting to the scenes as fast as possible change, and you were both told to rest for the night.

hotch promised you he would go to bed in a bit, three hours ago.

you scoffed, getting up and taking the blanket you were just cozied up on with you, dropping it on his shoulders swiftly, he jolted in the chair in surprise, smiling when he noticed it was just you. “did i wake you? tried not to make any noise.”

his voice is raspy from how tired he is and from not speaking for a while and weirdly it brings you comfort, hearing him speak so quietly in the almost full darkness of that room, no outside noise coming in, as if only the two of you existed, as if he was yours.

“it’s cold, aaron. go to bed.” you don’t answer his question, instead you sit on the edge of the bed you were just sleeping on, waiting to hear him justify the ungodly hour of his work.

“i’m not cold anymore.” his attempt to not make it obvious the way he took a deep breath while tightening the blanket around him fails, and he knows you know he was trying to smell you through the fabric.

“alright, i’ll bite. what you doing?”

“building a profile.” he says matter of factly, shrugs as he does so but makes sure to hold the blanket so it doesn’t fall, he feels cozy in it, basking in the smell of your body wash and by how soft the fabric was. it was your blanket after all, you took it on every trip.

“we didn’t even–” you start, trying to argument that you hadn’t gone to the crime scenes yet, but he had recently become one of the lead profilers, promoted before you which made you just about 5% jealous and 95% proud because you knew how hard he worked, and how this case had to come out perfectly. the result had to be perfect.

aaron was like that, he was a perfectionist, a controlling freak perfectionist, and his first case as lead profiler had left him empty handed, not enough to build the profile before the bau was sent away. since then he had become more and more obsessive, you had to deal with it during work and imagined his fiancée had to deal with it at home.

although you reckon she might have better outcomes on making him relax.

you, on the other hand, don’t have as much freedom to do something about it, so you do what you can as his partner and friend. you get up, turn the lights on, get your glasses and sit on the floor across from him, opening your hand and waiting for him to give you some of the files.

“what?”

“pass me some of those, let’s bounce some ideas back and forth, you know profiles can’t be built solo, you might be biased.” you sighed at his reluctance, the guilt from waking you up clear on his eyes. “i’m already up, just do it, stop being so annoying.”

you were bossy when you wanted, too bad he actually liked that, so he just smirked and threw half the files on your lap. the first you open are filled with photos from the autopsies, you whine, something about the cold lab atmosphere and the dead almost blue bodies always creeped you out, and hotch knew it too, “oh fuck me–” trying my best not to, he lets the intrusive thought come and go quickly, ignoring it, “autopsies, really?”

he shrugs, “i’m looking at the crime scene ones, the whole scene is organized, clean, but the bodies are torn apart, disorganized, personal, there’s too much disconnection.” hotch slips down from the chair, sitting on the floor by your side and putting the pictures in front of you both to analyze.

the coffee is starting to get cold, so he grabs his cup from the table, sharing it with you as you worked on writing the discrepancies you both found between the scenes and the bodies.

aaron is a perfectionist. he needs his plans to go exactly as he schemed them, he doesn’t like change and he likes to be prepared for what the next day will bring.

but as you sat down on the floor of the crappy hotel, sharing bad coffee and feeling his warmth by your side, you knew that you wouldn’t have him any other way.

even if you don’t really have him.

#lari writes sometimes #marchhotchness #lari march hotchness #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario

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lalacliffthorne · 4 months

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a party and kisses at midnight - a new years modern!batboys drabble. 🎀🪩

(last one for this year, my lovelies, as a little thank you. I can't even describe how happy you all make my lil heart by adoring these silly little drabbles and this AU as much as I do!! love you all to bits!!! *mwah*)

"Why is it so fucking cooold..." Feyre's teeth were chattering as she hopped up and down on the spot, her breath a white cloud in the air.

"Cause it's winter,", Mor supplied, very helpfully, her voice slightly muffled from where her top half had disappeared into the trunk of her car. I snorted softly, shivering against the harsh cold wind brushing against my legs as I shifted from one foot to the other, clutching the three bottles with glittery booze Mor had handed me against my chest.

"And he really does this every year?" Feyre crunched her nose as she looked up towards the lit windows on the third flow, the star in my window shining in the dark.

"Yeah." Mor resurfaced, hair slightly tousled but triumphantly holding the bottle that had decided to roll into the depths of her trunk after she had taken a rather sharp curve. "Last year, he actually threw the whole thing in his dad's mansion, because he was out of town and Rhys had the sudden urge to be rebellious. It was a huge thing." She frowned. "How did you two miss that; the whole campus didn't talk about anything else for weeks."

I shrugged as she plucked a bottle out of my arms, tightening my freezing fingers. "We both spent Christmas at home, and then at New Years, we holed up in Feyre's apartment. We were in a severe food coma by midnight and didn't get out of bed before the next evening."

Feyre sighed happily, staring dramatically up into the sky. "The good old times."

I snorted and sent her a wide grin. "C'mon, you love the idea of an actual New Years party for a change. Rhys definitely put more effort into food than we did; he ordered some super fancy food and did some stuff himself, he basically spent the whole of yesterday in the kitchen and wouldn't let anyone peak."

"Also the view from the balcony is amazing at midnight!" Mor stretched to close the trunk of her car. "You can see all the fireworks from the neighborhood, and the ones down at the river."

"Why don't we go and see them there?" Feyre pouted.

"Because one, it's gonna be packed with severely drunk people, and two, like you just mentioned,", I climbed onto the sidewalk, bumping into her side and widening my eyes dramatically, "it's coooold!"

Feyre snickered. "Fuck off."

"If it gets too busy; I locked my room so there are no hook ups on my clean sheets, we can hole up in there." I pushed open the front door with my shoulder. The stairwell was warm, and I could hear music vibrating from the third floor.

"Yeah, because your sheets are so innocent." Mor grinned when I tried to kick at her, easily dodging my heel and raising her brows. "From what I've heard, your sheets have seen their fair share of not so clean action -"

"Oh, fuck you,", I growled over Feyre's cackling, pressing my elbow into her back to keep her from tipping over backwards from laughing while trying to fight the heat in my cheeks and the grin pushing onto my face. Mor snickered and blew me a kiss, and I flipped her off as best as possible with my arms full before beginning to push Feyre towards the stairs.

"Seriously, I always wondered; how is Azriel in the bedroom -"

"Mor, shut up!", Feyre and I called in unison, Feyre laughing so hard, I had to shove her up the stairs. Shrugging, Mor followed, flashing me a grin.

"Just curious, you know; I've heard he's quite skilled, and I mean, it makes sense, the quiet ones are usually the ones who go hardest -"

"Oh my God." I dropped my forehead against Feyre´s back as she stopped to hold onto the banister, giggling so loudly, she started hiccuping.

"Okay, fine, I'll stop." Mor grinned. "But only because I don't want Feyre to fall down the stairs before she can get her midnight kiss from Rhys."

My best friend stopped laughing abruptly, and it was my turn to snort and cackle.

Feyre's cheeks glowed pink as she glared at Mor. "I don't -"

"Sure." Mor smirked and slipped past us, sending her a wink before sauntering up the stairs. Feyre glowered at her back, beginning to stomp after her, and giggling, I followed after both of them.

Up on the third floor, the music and noise made the floor vibrate.

"How do the neighbours don't complain every year?" Feyre widened her eyes slightly, readjusting the packages of snacks she was balancing in her arms with her chin.

"Probably used to the boys being loud." I smirked.

"I think Rhys always invites the people right below you, and the ones down on the first floor usually spend New Years somewhere else, so they don't really got anything to complain about." Mor knocked her elbow against the door. "And the old folks next door wouldn't even hear a whole football team tap dancing up the stairs, so -"

Feyre and I started giggling, and Mor grinned before widening her eyes when someone pulled the door open. "Thank God, I'm starving."

Following Feyre into the hall, I sighed happily at the warmth enveloping me as I kicked the door shut. Feyre peeled off her jacket before taking one of the bottles out of my arms, and I slipped out of my coat, squeezing it onto the overflowing coat hanger next to the door.

There were people filling the hall, the kitchen and crowding the living room; coworkers of Cassian and friends of the boys from the gym, some of the guys Rhys played basketball with, people from uni and classes and a whole lot I didn´t know. It was loud and full and smelled of stale air, perfume and food.

Mor, Feyre and I slipped past kitchen, where the Christmas decorations were still up and the counter had been transformed into a bar, with lights and all. Putting the glittering booze down, I followed after the other two into the living room. The tree was glittering, lametta draped over the branches after Cassian and I had taken down all the baubles this afternoon. Streamers were hanging over the shelves, ceilings and windows, along with big floating balloons. Cassian almost ran into one when he spotted us, starting to grin widely.

"Hey!" He ducked under some silver streamers and pressed kisses to Mor's and Feyre's cheeks, the latter clearly not used to his teddy bear behavior yet, then he slung an arm around my waist and lifted me off the ground slightly in a tight hug. When he let me slip to the ground again, he sent me a shit-eating smirk. "Look at you; you know, if Az isn't around at midnight, I'd totally -"

I kicked his shin the same moment someone behind me snorted, and as Cassian winced, an arm was dropped over my shoulders.

"If you think Az wouldn't make sure he gets his midnight kiss, you've inhaled too much glitter." Rhys' lazy smirk was audible in his voice as he leaned down his head a little. I pressed a kiss onto his offered cheek and called over the noise: "Where is he?"

Rhys opened his mouth before closing it again and smirking, nodding over my head, and turning around, I followed his gaze.

My heart dipped and swerved, and my breath hitched in my throat when over the heads of the crowd, I found golden amber eyes piercing mine.

Azriel was leaning against the wall next to the fireplace. His shoulders strained against his simple black t-shirt, tattoos scattered over his arms, his dark hair tousled. He looked glowering as usual, not paying any attention to the people bustling around him, but some of his scowl slipped away his eyes dragged over mine. Then he pushed off the wall and started moving through the crowd, towards us, people getting out of his way quickly. But he didn't even spre them a glance, just kept watching me, something warm and deep and twinkling in his eyes that caused my heart to begin fluttering quickly.

Rhys slid his arm from my shoulder and moved past me to greet Mor and Feyre, sending the latter a grin that caused her cheeks to grow pink even as she huffed, and Azriel pushed past him. Something rose into my throat as I tipped my head back to look up at him, parting my lips to drop a teasing remark about his outfit that didn´t deviate from his usual in the slightest - but before I could even make a sound, Azriel dipped his head and kissed me.

A small sound broke from my chest at the firm press of his lips, my breath catching in my throat when I felt his hand slide up to my neck, and my heart swelled and pulsed under my ribs as my fingers curled into the soft cotton of Azriel's t-shirt and my knees turned to jello.

Azriel's lips curved upwards slightly against mine. I felt his tall, solid body press against mine, his calloused thumb gently tracing the line of my throat. Then Azriel slowly broke the kiss, his nose gently nudging mine as he pulled back his head just a little to stare down at me, his eyes golden in the warm pulsing lights. There was the slightest trace of a crease in his cheek, curtesy of a small smirk as he leaned down again to press a light kiss onto the corner of my lips.

"Hi." His deep voice vibrated through me, low and smooth, and I managed a breathless "Hello." that caused the crease in his cheek to deepen as he broke into a grin that was shit-eating enough to rival the one Cassian usually was sporting. I quickly pinched his side, no give to his muscles when he winced a little and glared at me.

"Hey, Az."

Cassian probably had a sixth sense for someone just remotely thinking of him, because he was smirking when Azriel straightened and turned enough that I could peak past him, just in time to see the twinkle in Cassian's eyes when he sent me a light wink.

"I was just saying - Y/N looks too pretty to not be kissed at midnight; I'd volunteer if -"

Azriel scowled darkly, and I snorted a laugh and flipped Cassian off. He pretended to catch it, sending back a kiss and grinning widely, and Azriel rolled his eyes and turned back towards me with a shake of his head, but there was a light twinkle in his iris when he gently pushed me past him towards one of the armchairs.

"Okay, only fifteen minutes til midnight!" Rhys' loud voice echoed through the apartment, answered by whoops and cheers, and I grinned into my drink when I felt Azriel's chest vibrate with a huff.

I was tucked into his side in one of the armchairs, my legs draped over his lap and dangling over one of the armrests, his arm draped over my back. His right hand was slowly running up and down my shin, his scarred skin warm through the thin pair of thights I was wearing, his thumb brushing over my knee once in a while. Mor and Feyre were lounging on the couch a little to my left, facing us, Cassian reclined lazily next to them as he grinned when Rhys moved past the coffee table.

They had kept coming and going, but Azriel and I had spent almost all of the past three hours in the same spot. Mor had dragged me up to dance twice, and I'd only let her because it meant I could stock up on snacks on my way back to where Azriel stayed lounging lazily in the big armchair, dark eyes calm and watchful on the people laughing and mingling and talking loudly around him. Everytime I returned, his legs parted slightly, and he shifted until I had plopped back down next to him before dragging my legs over his lap and stealing some of the food or a drink I was carrying. He looked perfectly comfortable, and no one dared bothering him, the glowering looks he sent Cassian and Rhys' way whenever they got too close warning enough to anyone else.

I had huddled up with Feyre in the kitchen for a while, curled up on one corner of the couch and giggling, and got pulled into conversations with her and Mor and the boys more than once. But I was always pulled back towards Azriel and the place squeezed into his side, talking quietly over the noise, Azriel's nose brushing my hair when he mumbled something into my ear, his lips curving into a light smirk whenever his words sent me into a fit of giggles. When I twisted to whisper into his ear, the scent of his cologne flooded my nose, and I could feel warmth wash over me.

It felt like we were in our own little bubble, comfortably curled up in the middle of the chaos, barely even noticing the people around us whenever the others had disappeared into the crowd again.

"Let's go outside so we get a good place on the balcony!" A coat was thrown at me, nearly landing on my head, and I jumped, my eyes darting up to glower at Rhys, but he just winked before tossing Azriel his jacket.

Sighing and grumbling, I laborously dug myself out of the armchair. I could feel Azriel's chest brush my back when he rose to his feet, towering over me, his calloused fingers gently pulling my hair out of the way when I slipped into my coat before he slid into his jacket.

Wrapping the thick scarf Feyre had gifted me last Christmas around my neck, I shivered happily as I buried myself in my coat, feeling Azriel's warm fingers sliding over my palm. My heart rose when they slipped into the spaces between mine, linking them together firmly, his thumb brushing lightly over my skin. Then his biceps gently bumped into my shoulder, pushing me over to the window doors leading out onto the balcony.

The air was freezing, our breath rising in white clouds when we stepped onto the balcony. The fairy lights wrapped around the balcony were glowing in a warm golden light just like the bushes in the huge stone pots where we huddled against the stone balustrade. Mor's teeth were chattering dramatically as she slightly swayed on the spot, and Feyre's nose was pink when she huffed at something Rhys mumbled, but I could see the way she hid a wide beaming smile in her scarf. Rhys was staring at the side of her face.

There was a gentle huff against my hair, and when I looked up over my shoulder, Azriel's chest pressed into my back, his hands sliding into my pockets to link our fingers. His eyes were on Rhys and Feyre as well, and there was a knowing twinkle in his eyes as he watched his best friend stare at mine.

Feeling my heart rise and a giddy giggle pulse under my ribs, I turned back ahead, flashing Cassian a grin over Mor's head. He winked back, his wide smile causing his cheeks to crease.

Slowly, the others joined us on the balcony and at the windows. When I heard the door down on the street, I leaned forward to look over the balustrade and saw that some people had decided to watch the fireworks of the neighbourhood from down on the sidewalk.

Rhys kept looking on his watch, counting down the time. Azriel wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my head as I played with his fingers, leaning back into his solid chest and feeling something thrum against my ribs. Mor disappeared back into the flat for a minute and returned with some glasses filled with sparkling, bubbling drinks she placed on the broad balustrade in front of us. I shivered in excitement, shifting giddily in the spot as Rhys started counting down the seconds to midnight.

The people around us started joining in until everyone was counting. I felt my heart rise and flutter as a stupidly wide grin spread over my face, Mor bumping her shoulder into mine and Feyre hopping around giddily on the spot.

"Four!"

Mor giggled and leaned forward to press a smacking kiss onto my cheek before looping her arm through Cassian´s, hitting his stomach so forcefully in excitement, he actually coughed a little.

"Three!"

Feyre squeezed my arm and beamed at me, and I caught a glimpse at Rhys on her other side, staring down at her like he was trying to make a decision.

"Two!"

I breathed out and closed my eyes, feeling heat in my cheeks despite the cold and the pulsing thrum of my heart against my ribs and the warmth blooming in my chest growing bigger and bigger.

"One!"

Azriel's hands slipped out of mine, his chest pressing into my back as his arm slid around my waist and turned me around, and as everyone yelled "Happy New Year!", Azriel´s hands slipped up to cradle my face, and he leaned down and kissed me.

My heart rose in a wild flutter, and I slid my hands under his coat, his chest curving into mine as Azriel kissed me, deep and heated and all-consuming, his tongue twisting with mine as a soft sound broke from his chest, and I clung to him, feeling the thrum in my chest explode like the fireworks over us in the sky, showering my body in golden glittering sparkles until it felt like I was floating, my heart rising until I couldn´t breathe.

I could hear whoops and jeers all around, a little far away and like slow motion, felt Azriel´s calloused fingers cradling my face and the slight shudder in his breath when his nose dragged over mine. Then he kissed me again, his hands sliding down as my arms wrapped around his neck and my body curved into his as his hands pressed against my back, and I felt something begin to pulse against my ribs.

"Happy New Year,", Azriel mumbled against my lips, his deep, hoarse voice causing a shudder to run down my spine, and I clung to him, feeling a ridiculously wide smile slowly spreading over my face.

"Happy New Year."

Azriel's nose nudged mine, and his eyes, dark and molten, pierced mine. Then he dipped his head and mumbled into my ear: "C'mon."

My breath hitched, and my heart rose into my throat when his hand slipped under my coat and pushed me past him, through the crowd towards the doors leading inside.

I could feel him in my back, towering over me as we slipped through the people cheering and toasting in the living room. Something was thrumming against my ribs, twisting in my stomach when Azriel unlocked the door to his door and I moved past him, turning and feeling my heart beginning to flutter against my ribs when Az closed the door. The lock clicked, and Azriel slid out of his jacket, stepping towards me. His warm, calloused hands slipped under my scarf, his fingers tracing up my neck as he unwrapped it slowly. Dropping it to the floor, he dipped his head, his nose brushing against mine as the noise outside grew, mixing with the muffled crashing of fireworks.

The pulsing feeling in my chest turned into a hurricane, and Azriel slipped his hands to the back of my neck and kissed me, deep and hard and unhurried. Then he pushed my coat off my shoulders and leaned down, sliding his arm under my backside and lifting me off the ground.

When an hour later, we slipped back into the living room, the bass was making the floor vibrate, people were cheering and dancing, and Cassian, lounging on the couch, hollered while Rhys whistled, but Azriel just rolled his eyes. They couldn't see the scratch marks on his shoulders beneath the crumpled material of his t-shirt, or the love bites littering my skin underneath my dress, but swollen lips and messy hair and the way Azriel's hand slipped under the seam of my dress when he pulled me into his lap were enough.

Enough for Cassian to smirk and Rhys to chuckle and for Mor to wiggle her brows when she dragged me to my feet only seconds later, pulling me with her towards Feyre, the both of them cackling. Flipping them off, I let them pull me towards the people dancing and looked over my shoulder, and my heart rose when for a second, my eyes found Azriel's through the crowd, watching me, his eyes molten and deep, swirling with something that made my breath hitch.

I blinked, then I slowly started to smile, bright and cheeky, before sending him a wink, and I saw the huffed laugh leaving him, something dipping in my stomach when I turned around with a beaming smile.

The flat stayed filled with people until well into the morning. I was pulled into the crowd again and again, and yet - no matter how long I danced with Mor and Feyre, played beer pong with Cassian or mixed drinks with Rhys that were so bad, he declared us unfit to ever to do it again - I always ended back in the corner of the couch, with the scent of cedar and darkness filling my lungs, an arm wrapped around me and a deep, low voice mumbling into my ear, light kisses pressed against my neck and a scarred hand wrapped around my knee.

And by the time Mor and Feyre crashed in my bed and Cassian had dozed off on the couch and Rhys let the door fall shut behind the last people, groaning happily, I was already fast asleep, wearing only a t-shirt that smelled like home, curled up against a warm, solid chest, leg thrown over a bare hip and nose pressed into warm skin as Azriel slid his arms tighter around me, dragging me up and further into his body as his tall form curled around me and he buried his face in the crook of my neck.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secret-ly-here @knmendiola @luvmoo @azriels-mate2 @bookishbroadwaybish @maybe-a-winchester @stayinglow-exploringworlds @harrystylesfan2686 @icey--stars @ssmay123

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mamawasatesttube · 3 months

Note

“You haven’t laughed in a long time, and I guess I was staring ‘cause I forgot how that looked like.” with timkon maybe :) the sillies

The Batcave is draftier than Tim remembers it being.

He’s gotten used to his setup in his apartment building’s basement, and it’s a couple of degrees warmer over there. Probably because of the giant computer sans an entire cave to heat up.

Oh, well. That’s what capes are for. Particularly the ones made of blankets. And also thick, fuzzy socks. And fluffy pajamas stolen from Dick’s drawer (it’s not like he’s touched it in ages, since he’s off in New York, but Tim still hopes he’ll notice the theft and be indignant about it eventually).

Cold water drips from his hair onto the back of his neck, and he shivers. Scowls at the keyboard in front of him. He took such a nice, hot shower immediately after Kon got him back—getting tossed into the harbor in midwinter sucks—but the draftiness down here doesn’t care.

“Thanks for the tea, Alfred,” Kon says, somewhere behind him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get the dishes? I really don’t mind—“

“Certainly not, young Mister Kent.” Alfred sounds almost fond. Kon’s got Ma Kent’s country manners drilled into his head; Tim has to admit it’s pretty cute. “You are a guest in this house. It would hardly be proper. Besides which, you’ve already helped me plenty by ensuring I don’t need to dig any bullets out of Master Timothy tonight.”

Tim resents that. He wasn’t in any danger of getting shot—okay, no more than usual, anyways. He was a lot more in danger from the guys who managed to chain a cinder block to his ankle and then threw him off a boat. However, since he’s a paragon of maturity and not an insufferable pedant, he elects to finish typing up his stupid mission summary while it’s still fresh in his mind, instead of arguing.

And then, the strangest thing happens:

Alfred squawks.

There’s a clatter of porcelain and a whoosh of air, and Tim whips around just in time to see Kon, holding Alfred’s tea tray in one hand, catch Krypto by the cape with the other.

“Dude!” Kon scolds. Krypto’s tail wags a mile a minute. “You can’t just do that outside the house! What is wrong with you? Oh, man, Mr. Alfred, I’m so sorry, he’s never done that to anyone but Pa before—”

…What did Krypto do?

Alfred scrubs the back of his neck with a daintily-folded pocket handkerchief, his face is filled with disgust. He examines the handkerchief, mustache quivering with indignance, and then sighs. “I do hope this is just regular slobber and not some sort of super-related variant."

Krypto barks once, excited, and prances in a circle around Kon’s hips, wrapping his cape around Kon until Kon sighs and lets go.

Tim—

Tim wheezes.

Krypto just silently snuck up and licked the back of Alfred’s neck?! And—and he used to do that to Pa Kent? Does he just have a thing for licking old guys on the neck or something? Or is he replacing one old guy with another, now that Pa’s dead? And he’s so pleased with himself now, sitting back on his haunches in midair like he expects a treat!

Tim laughs so hard his stomach hurts. Every time he thinks he’s gotten ahold of himself again, his mind just flashes back to the look of utter revulsion on Alfred’s face, and he loses it all over again.

By the time he catches his breath, Alfred has vanished, tray and all. He’s probably upstairs muttering derogatory things about dogs. Kon and Krypto, however, are still here; Krypto’s inspecting the crumbs on the floor where Alfred nearly dropped the tea tray, and Kon…

Kon is staring, the tenderest smile Tim has ever seen on his lips.

Oh. Um. Tim’s cheeks heat. “…What?” he huffs, folding his arms over his chest. “That was funny, okay!”

“Oh, yeah, no, I’m not disputing that,” Kon says absently. He’s still looking at Tim with that soft, adoring smile. “You just, uh… you haven’t laughed in a long time, and I guess I was staring ‘cause I forgot how that looked like.”

What.

Tim opens his mouth. Closes it again. Looks away, face burning. “Oh, come on. I’m sure I’ve laughed recently. Pretty sure I laughed after you fished me out of the harbor.”

“Yeah, but that was all, like, sarcastic and ‘ooh, look, I’m making jokes because I nearly just drowned in the smelliest harbor on the planet’, not ‘cuz anything was actually funny.”

Kon closes the distance between them and rests a hand fondly atop Tim’s head. His smile fades, slightly, and his hand slides down to cup Tim’s chin, tipping his face up. Blushing or not, Tim meets his gaze and holds it steadily, raising an eyebrow.

Kon just tilts his head ever so slightly, the same way Krypto does. He looks a little contemplative. That’s new; he never used to be nearly this introspective before. Dying and getting resurrected probably does something to a guy’s psyche, Tim supposes, but he wouldn’t know.

And then Kon asks, “Rob… Have you actuallylaughed at anything since I died?”

He may as well have just sucker-punched Tim in the gut. All the breath whooshes right out of Tim’s lungs. “I… I’m sure I have. I must have,” he says, and frowns. He can’t really think of anything that made him feel particularly light in the past year and then some, but… just because he can’t remember doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Statistically, he had to have laughed properly at something, right?

Kon lets go of his chin to ruffle his hair. “Man,” he says, and sighs, dropping onto an invisible chair at Tim’s side. He’s close enough that their thighs press together; Kon’s a solid line of warmth against Tim’s body. He tosses his feet up onto an invisible footrest and folds his arms behind his head, leaning back. “You nearly done with whatever you needed to do here?”

“Nearly,” Tim says, glancing at the screen. “I think that’s enough details for anyone trying to pick up the smuggling case to use, if they wanna do something before I get to it, I guess.” Though he doubts anyone will. They’ve got their own cases to work on. He’ll get the weapons smugglers next time; they got lucky this time, that’s all.

“Cool.” Kon glances over to Krypto. Tim follows his gaze; Krypto’s inspecting the dinosaur now, floating up near one of its eyes. “Krypto, be careful with that!”

Krypto wags his tail in acknowledgment.

“I hope he doesn’t try to eat it,” Kon sighs. “He got ahold of a T-Rex bone this one time we went back in time—long story, it was that thing with Lori’s mom I called you about a few weeks back. But I just hope Krypto didn’t, like, acquire a taste for ‘em.”

Tim snorts. He hits save, then lets his head fall against Kon’s shoulder. “Would be kinda funny if he did, though.”

Kon snorts, too, draping his arm around Tim’s shoulders. Even through his sweatshirt and the thin blanket he’s using as a cape, Kon’s warmth radiates gently against his skin. The weight of his arm is… nice.

“Would be kinda funny,” Kon agrees, sighing fondly. “Anyways, you done with that thing?”

“Yeah.” Tim hums. “If you wanna go back to my place, we could do that, or if you’re busy, that’s chill, so…”

“Oh, actually, I’m kidnapping you,” Kon says breezily, and just like that, the familiar net of his TTK wraps around Tim’s body and scoops him up. “I’ve decided you need to laugh at something dumb some more, so we’re gonna go back to the farm and watch this one really weird anime about the composers that Bart showed me last week. Krypto! Come!”

What. “I didn’t even pack anything. Do I get a say in this?” Tim asks. Kon’s already heading for the exit with him in his arms, so he gets the feeling that he’s already got his answer, but still.

“No.” Kon grins. “Didn’t you hear me? I said this is a kidnapping. You’re already in PJs, and you can just borrow something to wear tomorrow. We got spare toiletries at the house. So it’s chill.”

Tim rolls his eyes. But, as they emerge outside under the starry night sky, he finds that he doesn’t really mind.

#timkon #lemonlimestar #woops this kinda got long. into that awkward length i hate (between 800-1.5k) skjdf #BUT. fun fact my dog did that to my dad once #obviously not by flying but like hes a big dog he just walked up behind where my dad was sitting #and i immediately was like. who is the funniest person for krypto to do that to and i think its alfred #tim #kon #alfred #krypto

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steddieas-shegoes · 10 months

Note

how about... punk!steve and eddie's brain short-circuiting at the new look (one eyebrow pierced, lip ring, pierced ears, one arm fully tattooed, and his back has several)? 👀 will designed all of them 🤗

Picturing Steve with tattoos and piercings almost did me in. It wasn't hard to do Eddie's POV here because, honestly, same. This was fun, and way different from anything else I've gotten to do! - Mickala ❤️

-----------------------------------------------------------

Somehow, some way, Eddie fell in love with Steve Harrington.

No matter what everyone believes, it wasn’t during the whole Vecna thing, it wasn’t even during his recovery when he spent just about every waking moment with him.

It wasn’t after that when he ended up working with him and Robin at the grocery store.

It was when Steve got his first piercing.

Or at least that’s when he realized it.

Looking back, it was probably always there, he just didn’t quite let himself accept it or think about it.

But when Steve got his nose pierced. Jesus Christ.

The thoughts Eddie had were beyond sinful. Even he was worried about his soul after some of them.

It was only the beginning, though.

—-------------------

Steve started getting tattoos.

Not just cute little ones that were hidden.

He got a half sleeve done as his first tattoo.

Robin had gone with him because he was nervous, and all Eddie could think was that he wished he could have been the one to go with him.

He imagined how Steve looked, if he’d cry, or if he’d just grit his teeth and tough it out, if he’d get all hazy (this was the way Eddie liked picturing him most, sue him), or if he would have to take a lot of breaks.

Robin gave him a knowing look as he stared at Steve through his explanation of the design that Will did for him.

She wouldn’t say anything, but he knew she wanted to.

—----------------------

His ears were next.

Three piercings on one side, two on the other.

“For now,” Steve said, grinning at Eddie as he explained his plans for more.

Eddie was going to die.

—----------------------

But it was the eyebrow ring/tongue ring combo that did him in.

That was what shut his brain off possibly permanently.

Steve was stocking the cereal aisle, humming to himself.

Eddie was pretty sure he was mopping the floor, but it was hard to say with how distracted he was at the way the light caught the ring on his tongue every time he stuck it out in concentration.

Which was a lot more often than stocking cereal probably called for.

Steve put a lot of thought into everything he did.

He was so busy staring at Steve, he didn’t notice Robin coming up behind him.

“You could just say something, you know,” she said at a very normal volume.

“Fucking hell!” Eddie yelled at a not-at-all normal volume.

Steve turned to them, tongue out from his deep concentration, brows raised to silently ask if everything was okay.

Was that…

“Robin. Does Steve have an undercut?”

“Yeah, I helped him with it last night. You like?”

“You want me dead, don’t you?”

She laughed as she started walking towards Steve, who was still staring at them, confused about the outburst.

“Just want you to do something about it!” She said back to him.

He gave Steve an awkward wave before continuing with his own task, frowning when he realized the huge puddle at his feet that hadn’t actually managed to be spread around.

—------------------------------

Steve had come over to smoke after work and Eddie was pretty sure he’d ruin it by doing something stupid soon.

Robin had said she had plans already, but threw Eddie a wink when she said it, so that was obviously a lie.

He was on his own.

At least he wasn’t as high as Steve was.

“I think I want my lip pierced,” Steve said suddenly, head rolling on the back of the couch to look over at Eddie.

“Oh.”

“Think it would look okay?”

“Yeah. Yep.”

Steve leaned his head on his shoulder.

“Do you not like the piercings? I get they’re a big change, I just figured out of everyone, you’d think they were cool. Not that I need your approval, or anyone’s, that’s kind of the point.”

“No, I do like them. I love them. I’m so glad you’re having fun with them, expressing yourself.”

He wasn’t lying, he just wasn’t telling the entire truth.

“Yeah?”

Eddie looked down and saw Steve blushing, trying to hide his face in Eddie’s shoulder.

What a sight.

It was enough to make Eddie lose sight of what he’d been working so hard to hide.

“Stevie, I love you, so of course I love your piercings.”

Steve’s head shot up too fast, bumping into Eddie’s jaw and making him yelp.

“Sorry, oh my God. I’m sorry. It’s just. What.”

“What?”

Eddie was looking at Steve, confused as to why Steve moved away from him so quickly.

“You said you loved me.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

It took him months to say it, and now he ruined everything because he didn’t mean to say it this way.

Or at all.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Steve’s face fell, and he looked down at his lap. His hands curled against his thighs and he looked like he was physically pulling away further with every passing second.

“Yeah. I mean, I get it. Just one of those moments, huh?”

Eddie would never forgive himself for making Steve sound like that.

He had to fix it.

“Actually, no. I have a lot of those moments. Wanna know about them?”

“Uh, I guess.”

“Okay, well like today when I was mopping the floor. I was so distracted by how pretty you are, I missed the fact that the floor around me was just a giant puddle.” Eddie sighed. “And last week, when I had to swerve the van back into the lane on the way to work, it was because I was watching you trace your tattoos in the rearview mirror.”

“Really?”

“I’m obsessed with you, Stevie.”

That was maybe too honest, but it was worth it when Steve’s face lit up.

“Prove it.”

Eddie shivered.

If that’s what Steve wanted him to do, though, that’s what he’d do.

He leaned in slowly at first, then quickly shoved Steve back so he was laying down, Eddie hovering over him.

Steve licked his lips and that damn tongue ring was all it took for Eddie to close the distance between them.

It was messy, and desperate, and everything Eddie hoped it would be.

Steve’s lips were soft, slick, moving just right against his own.

Eddie let one hand cup Steve’s jaw, the other taking all his weight.

Until Steve’s hands tugged him down, making their hips and chest meet roughly.

Both of them moaned, but Eddie had to pull away for a breath, needed a moment to let his brain catch up to his body before he went too far too soon.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked.

“Nothing at all. Just needed a second. You make me feel a little foggy,” Eddie smirked, placing a quick kiss to his nose, right over the piercing there.

“Is that a good thing?”

“I think so. If you can handle me being a little bit dumb sometimes,” Eddie kissed his lip.

“I think I can handle it,” Steve laughed.

“So. A lip piercing?” Eddie nipped at his bottom lip.

“Yeah. Maybe tomorrow.”

“You’re gonna kill me.”

“What? Why?”

“Every piercing you get takes a year off my life, I swear.”

Steve leaned up, licked along Eddie’s bottom lip just to watch him squirm.

“You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you?”

“I’m gonna try my best to be.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #ficlet #request #punk steve harrington #modern au

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bemyawakening · 1 year

Note

may I request a Price x pregnant! Wife reader where he wakes up in the middle of the night and notices she isn't there, he sees that their bathroom's light is on and finds her throwing up and crying due to very bad morning sickness which makes her so uncomfortable. She gets so embarrassed because she looks like an absolute mess but John does not give a shit because she's literally his wife, the person he loves the most and the one carrying his child.

John holds her head and rubs her back as she pukes. He comforts her and takes her to bed after😿💝💝 Thanks a lot! I luv all your posts💝

RADIANT — JOHN PRICE X PREGNANT!READER (f!reader)

thank you so much for this request, love! Domestic Price has a special place in my heart! I hope I did your request justice! xx

word count: 1431

warnings: throwing up, mentions of sexual actions, tooth-rotting fluff

They said that the nausea would fade away once you will get into the Second Trimester. The First Trimester was absolutely horrible—everything itched your nose the wrong way. Your husband couldn’t smoke anymore as your pregnant nose would pick up any lingering tobacco scent on his skin.

There you were. Just starting to enjoy the peace of not waking up and immediately going to throw up, you knew you jinxed it. Because there you were, your eyes widening at instance, feeling the acidic taste moving up your stomach.

You flew like a rocket out of the bed even if your back was aching a little bit. Thankfully, your husband hasn’t cocooned you in his arms like every night, because you were too busy whining that he’s too warm for your liking—the pregnancy really made you whiny about every single thing, but your husband took everything as a champion. It was a small price to pay since you were carrying his child.

Instantly tiptoeing to the bathroom, you threw out your dinner into the toilet. Pushing your knees on the cold tiles, your body started to shake—you had a horrible fear of throwing up and pregnancy was your worst nightmare. In one hand, you were holding your hair away from your face, another was holding the edge of the toilet bowl, feeling that this wasn’t over.

Cold sweat formed on your forehead as you kneeled on the tiles frozen—not daring to move an inch. The acid in your mouth was burning your gums slightly as you tried to even out your breaths. It has happened so many times that you knew what you had to do, but the fear always clung to your back and you started to hesitate.

At moments like these, you hated being the one pregnant. Suddenly the thought of having a surrogate didn’t sound so bad, but you tried to cling to the better experiences. For instance, your husband never left your side. He didn’t let you do any of the chores even if you were competent and you still did the stuff needed when he was at the base.

Feeling another burning sensation in your stomach, you winced and then the door slightly creaked behind you. Embarrassment flushed on your cheeks—most of the time you managed to throw up without John knowing because, well, it wasn’t very hot seeing your other half suffer on the bathroom floor, clinging onto the toilet.

You didn’t dare to look at him because of the embarrassment and because you tried to say as still possible until you felt your warm robe cover your shoulders. Your husband’s warm hand softly stroked your shoulder as he sat on the floor beside you, tugging onto the hand that was holding your hair.

“I’ll tie it,” his voice was deep and husky, the sleep was still clinging to his voice.

You winced as an answer, but let him tie your hair into a low bun, securing it with a silk scrunchie, making you drop your hand on your lap as you ease your breathing.

“Go away. This is embarrassing,” you mumbled, not daring to look at him.

John smirked, pushing all the loose strands away from your face, noticing the little tears welled in the corner of your eyes. To him, you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Even on the bathroom tiles, clinging to the toilet you were glowing with a radiant smile because you were carrying his child. You were so strong.

His hand softly moved on your nightgown that was actually his shirt because you insisted that he has the best material shirts that your skin can handle at the moment. The little bulge of your stomach was already visible and he loved it; couldn’t wait when you will be all round and pretty.

“The little one is giving you a hard time, eh?” He softly mumbled, receiving a small smile from you.

“Seriously, John.” You tried to sound serious, but you were tired and shaking as a leaf.

“Just relax, darling,” he softly cooed, pushing his hand on your shoulder, and rubbing small circles on your back.

You knew that telling him to go away meant nothing to him because as he always told you – you were always beautiful. You admired your husband for his love and for his determination, feeling lucky to have him by your side, because without him – this pregnancy would be horrible.

The acidic taste only deepened and you quickly leaned forward, retching into the toilet the last pieces of your sickness. You spat into the toilet, flushing the water and moving away from it with a bit more ease. You didn’t have to say anything to him as he read your body language perfectly and he gently helped you stand up and get to the sink.

Washing your hands thoroughly, you grasped your toothbrush, making sure to get rid of that acidic taste. Meanwhile, your husband stayed close, leaning to the doorway, watching you. He knew you didn’t notice, but ever since the pregnancy, your skin started to glow as you gained some weight. Your eyes were sparkling more often even if nowadays you were crying over anything—last night you cried because you thought you had no more cocoa left, so after a short visit to the store, you were all coddled up, drinking it.

Receiving your harsh stare, he only smiled wider, knowing what you would say to him if you wouldn’t be brushing your teeth. You always blushed when he looked at you longer, just like when he met you. It made him joyful that you were still shy around him, making him think how lucky he was even if you threatened to beat his ass with every breath you took.

After brushing your teeth, your husband guided you to your bed. He laid beside you, turning off the lamp on the night table to make sure you laid down comfortably. Usually, you didn’t like cuddling with him when you fell asleep since you always complained about being too warm, but now, you scooted closer to him, wrapping your hands around his and nuzzling your nose into his neck.

It warmed his heart.

“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed, turning a bit to you, stroking your hair gently.

You were about to threaten him. The pregnancy really did put out your violent side a lot more. “John—“

“Yeah, I know. My pretty little wife will beat my ass,” he chuckled, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

His hand softly moved down, on your tummy bulge, softly rubbing circles on it. He felt so lucky. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, yeah?”

“No one wants to see their spouse throwing up, John. That’s not very hot.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “Is that what you are worried about? Me not finding you hot anymore?” With those words he turned the light back on, hearing your protesting whine.

Those teary eyes of yours made his heart swell—you were such a little gem. Placing his hands on your face, he smiled, not understanding how you couldn’t comprehend how beautiful you were to him. “Is that it, love? Is that your concern?”

You couldn’t move your eyes away from him and you couldn’t handle the intense eye contact with him. “We’re not really—you know… Doing anything, particularly after I got pregnant.”

Oh.

John only smiled wider. The reason why he wasn’t initiating anything was that you needed rest. The doctor said that sexual intercourse wasn’t dangerous, but he didn’t want you to do anything you didn’t want to.

“My little bird,” he whispered. “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on, carrying our baby in that cute tummy of yours. You think that doesn’t turn me on?”

The blush crept on your cheeks again. “It’s just after I’ll give birth—it won’t ever be the same and I’ve read that many husbands do leave their wives after—“

He didn’t let you finish your sentence, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I’d never leave you,” he promised against your lips. “And I promise I’ll take care of you tomorrow, yeah? Leave you all flushed and satisfied.”

Nodding, you held your breath for a bit, feeling overwhelmed by his confident words. “Alright, too warm,” you slightly moved back from him, hearing your husband laugh.

“You little minx—“

#sunnywrites!#captain price x you #captain john price #captain price headcanons #captain price x reader #captain price #john price x you #john price #john price x reader #call of duty imagine #call of duty alternative universe #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty

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whatthefishh · 1 year

Text

Happy Halloween, Steven

Steven Grant x F!Reader

Summary: this was supposed to be a fluff piece and then I thought about how Steven would look in his costume and how I'd probably react to it so. You guys get light smut.

Warnings: 18+, smut, heavy petting, handjob, jealous coworkers lol

Author's note: Thanks to @villainvindicator and @kittyofalltrades for helping me decide how to go about certain parts of this story :) xo

Jake is written in bold, Marc in italics, sorry if its OOC I was just having the best time writing this LOL

Word count: 2.5k

This wasn’t really how Steven imagined the annual Halloween party the National Gallery threw for its staff to go, but let’s just say he was over the moon with how his night was going.

The entire staff was being forced to go. Steven didn’t necessarily dislike parties but he wasn’t the best in social settings either. He felt a little better going to outings with Marc and Jake around now, it felt like he wasn’t going entirely alone. Plus, he did really enjoy Halloween.

Although Marc grumbled the whole week leading up to the party about having to dress up and how lame he thinks it all is, Jake was quietly supportive of Steven putting himself out there more and more. Especially since he picked up on his little crush on you.

Jake noticed that every time you’d rush by the gift shop, piles of paperwork haphazardly collected in your arms, heels clicking on the floors trying to make it to your destination without bumping into anyone, Steven would stop whatever he was doing and just blankly follow your movements with his eyes until you were gone. This happened maybe a handful of times per day, and every time it was the same: Steven would longfully gaze after you, sigh dramatically and then return his attention back to the task at hand. Marc usually mentally clocked out when Steven literally clocked in, so only Jake really knew about this little reaction Steven had towards you aka dopey heart eyes anytime you were in the vicinity.

Tonight’s party was a Halloween costume party, being held in the gallery’s dining hall, but it was supposed to be decked out by the party planning committee. Steven was slightly bitter towards the committee, led by Donna, since they didn’t let him help when he offered. You were on it, too, which was honestly part of the reason why he offered to help to begin with, hoping to get a word in with you, but Donna quickly interrupted your conversation to shut him down as rudely as she always does.

Steven had his costume picked out for a while, thinking it made him look bloody handsome, if he did say so himself. Jake helped him style his hair into a neater, slicked back look instead of his usual unruly curls to better match the outfit. Marc teased Steven saying that he was trying too hard for a bunch of coworkers that didn’t give a shit if he showed or not. Needless to say, Steven did not like that.

“Oi! Just because Donna’s insufferable, doesn’t mean they all are! There are some people I actually like at work.”

Yeah you’re a real social butterfly.

Marc, stop being such a culo. Steven, you better talk to her tonight.

Oh? This whole getup is for a girl?

Steven has to admit when he purchased his Captain Hook costume, the idea of you and what you would possibly dress up as dipped into his daydreams enough times. The shopkeeper looked entirely too thrilled when Steven tried on the black pleather pants, maroon vest and long black overcoat complete with gold hardware detailing and a fake sword for his belt. He also pressured him into buying some cheap eyeliner to drive the pirate look home. It was definitely not Steven’s first choice (initially he’d asked for Prince Charming) but upon looking at himself in the tri-fold mirror and seeing how the tight pleather pants made his thighs and rear look, he readily agreed, secretly hoping it would catch your attention.

If we’re gonna be here, at least we look good.

Deep breath, hermano. Look, there she is.

Again, WHO?

As soon as Steven walked in, it was almost magnetic how his eyes zeroed in on you; animatedly describing something with your hands to the angel with bright white, oversized wings next to you over the blaring dance music. His eyes widened and mouth dropped open slightly once he took in the sight of you, in a tiny, tiny sparkly, green number, hem cut in a zigzag pattern, clear high heels to give the illusion that you were floating, with petite green wings to match. The dress was much shorter than he expected to see you in, especially for a work party, but he was guessing you probably didn’t realize the effect it was having on those around you and honestly? He’s not complaining because where the hell have you been hiding those legs this whole time?!

He was beginning to attract attention just standing at the door of the hall, yet again caught staring at you with a dopey look on his face. It didn’t occur to Steven that he could be attracting attention because of how damn fine he looked tonight, pleasantly surprising some of the staff with his defined muscles on display with his costume choice - the pleather didn’t leave much up to imagination. He quickly made his way over to the food table, as one does with anxiety at a party, and scoured the table for vegan friendly options with shaking hands. Why did he come to this party again? What if nobody talked to him? What if he made a fool out of himself? Why did he think this costume was a good idea? They probably think he looks ridiculous, that's why they’re all staring…

Fighting the urge to nervously run his hands through his gelled hair, Steven stood fidgeting with his jacket and finally looked around the room to catch a handful of the more forward women blatantly staring at him bent over the table stacking his plate sky high, promptly choking on his food at the numerous eyes on him. Rushing to the punch bowl in an attempt to wash his food down before he further embarrassed himself, he didn’t notice you also approaching and narrowly avoided bumping into you.

“Are you…alright? Steven, right?” you asked just as he managed to gulp down half his cup of punch, nearly causing him to choke again as he swiveled around to face you.

“Uh hiya, yeah I’m Steven, Steven is me,” he tried to laugh at the end of that horrible, horrible introduction. He already knew your name, but pretended to ask anyway so as not to seem like a creep, which you confirmed with an easy smile. He tried so desperately not to look away from your face while you were talking but it was proving to be challenging, especially now that Marc perked up at your presence.

This is her? He playfully laughed. Steven, where have you been hiding this little nymph?

Steven wasn’t that guy, he would not be the guy caught staring at your breasts while you were showing him kindness and striking up a conversation by the punch bowl, like the nice girl he was sure you were, he would not, could not blow this chance with you. But God was it making him break a sweat at the effort. He tried to focus on some part of your face so that his gaze wouldn’t stray but then he got caught up in your eyes and the meticulous makeup you applied that accentuated the soft glow of your skin, trailing down to the perfect pink pout you wore tonight and-

She’s asking you a question, cabrón.

Ah, shit, he was not listening. Did you know he wasn’t listening? He thinks he’s ruined it now, for sure. His eyes betrayed his inner turmoil and panic, quickly making his whole demeanor tense which you picked up on with concern and asked again, “You sure you’re alright?” You ask as you move closer to him. He’s tall enough to see down your dress now and he quickly closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

This is torture. There’s a promising pink flush gracing your cheeks when he opens his eyes to look down at you. The track changes, something with a heavier bass starting up.

Do not. Fuck. This up, Steven. She’s hot, and likes what she sees.

Sí, parece que le gustas, this might work.

“Y-yeah, m’alright, more than actually,” he says, schooling his features into what he thinks is a coy smile but on Steven’s open and honest face just screams ‘I really like how close you’re standing next to me’.

You’re perceptive, he will soon learn. You’ve actually noticed him gaping at you a few times you rush past the gift shop in your hurry to get to your meetings on time, but you never get the chance to stop and chat with the cute, tousled-looking man behind the counter. You’ve taken notice though, especially tonight, with his tight black pants about to bust at the seams.

You’re smiling at him encouragingly, hoping Steven will catch on to your advances as you slowly lift your hand to finger at the lapels of his jacket, eyes slowly blinking up at him, looking over his face for a reaction. “I was just saying how it's a shame we don’t get to talk more at work,” you supply him with bits of your previous conversation. The other women who were watching this play out are scoffing at how obvious you’re laying it on for him, muttering bitterly amongst each other as they shift their attention elsewhere for the night. You have faith he’ll catch on, eventually. Hopefully.

“Me, too, I-I know you must be busy though, Donna definitely would ‘ave my head if she saw me bein’ friendly with anyone on the clock. Bit crazy, that one.” He manages to get out even with your close proximity and finger touching him through his clothes. Steven was going to slowly lose his mind if you kept dragging your finger on his clothes, your nail pressing into the fabric scandalously. There’s no way he could be misinterpreting this anymore.

Dude she wants you, stop fucking around.

And then you’re leaning up to whisper to him and he can feel the heat of your breath hit the shell of his ear and your breasts graze his arm, hair slightly brushing against his face in your movement; he can feel his dick twitch in his too tight pants, and it sounds like you’re smiling around your words as you say, “I could use some air, care to join me, Captain Hook?” Pulling back to look at him with eyes he couldn’t say no to let alone form words around. Steven thinks he agreed to join you because the next thing he knew he was being led out the doors to the main gallery by his hand, trailing after you like a puppy. Maybe Marc jumped in for a second back there. He’d have to thank him later.

You don’t stop pulling him behind you, occasionally looking back to giggle at his expression, until you reach the bathrooms on the other side of the gallery. He didn’t notice how long you two were walking, taking the opportunity to zone out at your legs effortlessly floating in those damn clear heels and the gentle sway of your hips as you brazenly walked in front of him.

Marc must have fronted again because he suddenly finds himself caging you in against the bathroom counter, standing in between your legs, hands spreading them as wide as they can in your obscenely short dress, as you sit between the sinks and you’re pulling him closer, closer, closer, until your lips meet in a hot, open mouth kiss. Steven’s hands are roving over your body, nonstop, from gripping your hips to squeezing your waist to ever so softly cupping your breast, and you moan into his mouth when he hesitantly swipes his thumb across your nipple through your dress. Your hands are in his hair, meeting slight resistance due to the product he’s used to tame his curls, his matching groans of desire echoing off the bathroom walls. You’re smiling into the kiss now, pulling back for air as you lean your head back giving Steven access to your neck which he happily attacks with his mouth, lightly nipping you in the process.

So - you didn’t think you were gonna end up with your hand down Steven’s pants - or rather Steven’s pants hanging around his knees - but you’re okay with it, more than okay with it considering you unzipped them to begin with even though he had to pull back to look at you to make sure he wasn’t making a fool of himself.

“O-oh, please, love,” he stutters out as you massage the head of his cock, thumb swiping over the slit. There was nothing you wanted more than to make Steven lose control in his stupid hot costume in the work bathrooms. He’s already breathing shakily, eyes rolling back as you work your fist up and down his cock, as you watch mesmerized, cataloging his face to memory.

Ahh, is this how every work event is gonna go from now on? You guys hiring, Steven?

Marc, we shouldn’t be here for this… As gorgeous as this little tinkerbell is

Steven tries to ignore the voices of his headmates as you continue to work him up, leaning forward to lick into your mouth partially to muffle his sounds and partially to not blow his load right there at the way you’re looking at him. He starts thrusting his hips into your hand, making you wetter just by watching him give in to his baser instincts.

“God, I’m not gonna last, love,” he whines out for you.

“Good,” you purr against his mouth.

His brow starts to furrow, and he looks up at you with a needy gaze as you pump your fist tighter, faster, your other hand reaching up to tug his hair back and he comes with a shout, eyes clenched tightly together and chest heaving.

You’re still slowly gripping his limp dick as you both look down to see his spend all over your thighs, leaking from his tip, dripping down your hand. He shyly meets your eyes as he hums happily and reaches for the paper towel stack behind where you’re perched to clean up his mess. When he comes back to wipe the white ropes off your thighs, you’re already tasting him and his jaw drops open at the sight of you smiling mischievously around your finger. You end up taking the paper towel from his hand and cleaning yourself up because Steven’s brain seems to have short circuited - something you’re very smug about at the moment. He has to shake himself out of his stupor to properly tuck himself away, and voices his concern about you not getting your own happy ending.

“Oh, we’re not done for the night, Hook,” you grin before pecking him and then gracefully hopping off the counter to stand pressed up against him.

“You’re so bloody gorgeous,” he mutters in amazement.

Told you it would work, hermano.

Steven, I swear to God if you don’t take care of her, I will.

Marc didn’t need to front anymore that night.

Taglist: @dameronscopilot @unspokenmoon @romanarose @milkymoon2483 @soonknight @lucianadraven32 @xbellaxcarolinax @raven-rk @twwcs @bit-dodgy-innit @einno-arko @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sadsatsumahead

#moon knight #moonknight fic #moon knight fic #moon knight smut #moon knight fanfic #moon boys #steven grant fic #steven grant x reader #steven grant my beloved #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant smut #marc spector #jake lockley #halloween moon boys #mktober2022 #kinktober #mona writes???

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ashdreams2023 · 1 year

Text

Detention

Summary: So the student reader gets detention by Snape and she has to go to Umbridge for it. The next day, Snape steals a glance at her hand and takes a look at it, not knowing it was Umbridge who did that to her. He then feels guilty because he was the one to have send her to Umbridge. He does go and confronts Umbridge about it, protecting the reader. Something like that?

Requested by: @inner-sparkle-inner-writings

Severus snape x reader

Detentions weren’t something new to you, everyone got them, you’ll have to be a perfect teacher’s pet to avoid them completely, and that was the furthest thing from you.

To be fair you didn’t go looking for trouble, you just happened to find yourself in the middle of it, you tried to avoid it as best as you could but you weren’t that slick.

But this year it was different, you had to avoid them, you’ve seen how some of your friends got punished and it was starting to stress you out, you’ve tried to follow every dumb rule that pink woman threw at you but your patience could only run so far, your breaking point was when Draco pointed out that you were too close to one of your male friends and you just snapped.

After a few cuss words and multiple hexes Professor snape came to end that ruckus and gave you detention with the pink demon herself.

“Sir, can’t I have my detention scrubbing the dungeon floors?”

Professor snape raised a brow at that “as much as that sounds appealing young lady, I have more important things to deal with so off you go” you honestly wanted to cry right then and there, it was unfair, especially since Malfoy got nothing but being sent to help in the greenhouse.

You dreaded that upcoming detention like it was your execution day, your friends couldn’t even comfort you because they knew it was gonna be awful.

And it was, your hand ached for hours afterward, and writing made it even worse, you weren’t a little first year but that thing stung like hell.

By the next day, you were more than grumpy, you didn’t talk to anybody and kept scratching at your wound in frustration.

It was lunchtime when professor snape came by your table strolling, he didn’t say anything at first then his eyes fell on the engraved words on the back of your hand, he was confused, to say the least, you wouldn’t do this to yourself…

“I would like a word with you young lady if you would” he took you to one of the empty halls and demanded you tell him what that was about, and you already had enough of everybody that morning and just threw it at him.

“It’s my detention professor, the same one everyone was getting, the one every adult in this facility seems to find acceptable, even on first-year students!”

Snape paused, he felt his blood run cold, this was the lines that Umbridge claimed to be giving the students! He might be strict and unfair at times but that was straight-up abuse and you had to go through that because he didn’t want to deal with stupid detentions.

“I…I need to speak with professor umbridge and here” he handed you a small bottle “it will help not get it infected” you blinked at him then nodded while taking the bottle.

“Professor…what are you planning to do?”

Snape huffed “what I should’ve done a long time ago” that pink toad has something coming to her if she thinks she can continue doing this while he breathes.

#imagine #severus snape #severus x reader #pro severus snape #severus snape x reader #severus snape fanfiction #platonic severus snape x reader #severus snape headcanon #severus snape x you #severus snape fluff #severussnape #harry potter requests #harry potter fandom

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a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual · 7 days

Text

More headcanons about Anakin and Ahsoka being menaces to the general public

I feel like both Anakin and Ahsoka react to being sick in similar ways and by reacting in similar ways I mean they do everything in their power to ignore the fact that they’re sick

Which is funny because they both get annoyed when the other refuses to accept that they’re sick Ahsoka will take any hint that Anakin gives her that his condition is failing and runs with it

Man could breathe different way and she’s like “Master it sounds like you’re sick maybe you should lay down and let me take over” to which Anakin refuses��

Ahsoka’s just as bad because Anakin tries his best to take care of her without letting her know he’s onto her

But of course she’s not stupid and can tell when he’s being more of a helicopter sibling than normal and calls him on it

God forbid they get sick at the same time because they just spend the whole time trying to take care of each other

And god forbid they get sick at the same time when Obi-Wan is around cause then they just turn into whiny children

Like no seriously it’s like a switch goes off in their brains that renders them into beings incapable of fixing their blankets

Obi-Wan obliges because what dad would stop taking care of their kid depending on the age

Honestly my brain kinda leaned into Ahsoka’s chaotic younger sister energy with this one

But I love the idea that she will just sneak attack Anakin and Obi-Wan

Most of her “sneak attacks” go something like this: Anakin walking down the hall minding his business when Ahsoka drops down from the ceiling

But before she can land on him he sidesteps and grabs her by the collar before she can hit the floor which results in Ahsoka moaning and groaning that she “Almost got him that time” and Anakin grumbles back that the only thing that “almost got her” was a black eye

He does have to admit that her random seak attacks have made her better at climbing

Sometimes she’ll walk up behind Obi-Wan and try to cover his eyes but most of the time all she gets is his shoulders

Most of the time it doesn’t even slow the man down he just keeps walking while asking her about her day and how classes are going

But as she gets older she’s able to mask her presence better and manages to sneak up on the men once or twice

Obi wan is always willing to admit defeat and congratulates her on her well earned victory

Anakin blames it on his age and that’s the only time that Ahsoka will ever hear him admit to being “old” (he’s 30)

It’s an ongoing joke that you shouldn’t separate Ahsoka and Anakin some say you risk a limb if you try others say you’re risking your life what most don’t mention is how you’re risking your sanity

Because they become the most annoying motherfuckers when they’re apart

Ahsoka acts like they’ve been separated for 10 years and will tell stories like she’s reminiscing about the good old times but most of the time the people she tells the stories to were present for the events so it goes something like this:

“Hey Rex do you remember when me and Anakin threw someone into that lake those were the days” “Yes I do remember that commander because I was that person and it was a week ago”

In his defense that’s the fifth story she told him in the past hour and here was there for all of them

Anakin’s just as bad but for a different reason because all he does is overthink

Like don’t get me wrong he keeps up the “cool guy” personality before she leaves but the second she’s gone he’ll sprinkle little questions into normal conversations like “Do you think she packed warm enough?” “Do they have enough emergency rations?” “Did anyone make sure that ship was up to code before they left?”

He made sure she packed for every single weather possible, he packed enough rations for two weeks even tho they were supposed to be gone for two days, and he checked the ship before they left

Sometimes Anakin or Ahsoka will just walk into each other's room and hang out they don't do much they kinda just sit down and talk

Sometimes they have a silent but mutual understanding to leave the room and go bother Obi-Wan in his

I love the idea that Obi-Wan and Anakin are victims of Ahsoka’s undying fascination with human hair she loves when their hair is long and encourages them to grow it out longer so she has more to work with

She all but falls to her knees when she sees how long Padme’s hair is and she’s the creator of some of Padme’s funkier hairstyles (both Anakin and Padme make a small note to force Ahsoka to do their future kid's hair)

She’s also weirded out by facial hair so every single time Obi-Wan shaves or Anakin tries to grow a beard they’re treated like a different person entirely

It took them a while to figure out why but once they did they lost their minds laughing (and also made silent vows not to do it again cause it freaked her out)

People often say it’s like Ahsoka and Anakin can read each other's minds without using the force

Some people find it hard to believe but it’s pretty easy to tell when people are having conversations through their bond and when two people are having a conversation just with looks

It’s not an uncommon sight for them to shoot each other looks after someone says something a little bold and for both of them to be laughing by the end of it

It’s just as common for them to get into little arguments and finish it in complete and total silence before one of them finally gives in with a huff

It’s kinda freaky but they don’t seem to notice and everyone around them is too used to it to care

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mercurytojupiter · 3 months

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chapter two - the labyrinth

a/n: ariadne is so funny to me like theres nothing like pure deflection to make me giggle!!

warnings: farleigh being farleigh, which includes mentions of underage sex, drugs, drinking, cigarettes and sex 18+

fic summary: ariadne gavin and her childhood best friend turned enemy return to saltburn for the last time

Ariadne lounges on the loveseat in Farleigh's room while he lies on the floor just below her. She had missed this. The feeling of just existing in a space with him with no obligation to speak or even interact. Sharing the room was more than enough.

Farleigh sits up from his position, head now just beside her knee. "So, did you get pissed 'cause you heard I was fucking Vaillancourt?"

"Mm," Ariadne mutters, neither a confirmation nor a denial.

"Were you," Farleigh swings onto the couch beside her, his long limbs splaying in every direction. "jealous?"

Ariadne coughs. "Well. No, I wouldn't say jealous."

It wasn't. Not because jealous isn't an apt word, but it isn't a good enough descriptor of the depth of betrayal and envy she had felt. She didn't think such a word even existed.

"If I ask Vee, will she tell me the same thing?" Farleigh mumbles.

Ariadne curses in her head. "I walked in on you two. You were the only person in the entire country I trusted and you were having sex with her instead of-"

"With you?" Farleigh asks suggestively.

"Instead of taking care of me like I took care of you. I moved to England to help you progress and you just threw yourself at every breathing human in a five-mile radius. I literally couldn't keep a hold on you."

Farleigh sighs. "You were so independent, Ari. You knew exactly who you were and what you wanted and I felt a little behind the curve. I didn't want to hold you back."

"Well, you were all I had to depend on, so, of course, I was independent," Ariadne grumbles.

Farleigh throws an arm around her shoulder. "I should have been there for you, Ari."

"And I shouldn't have tried to run away from you. Friends?" She concedes.

"Best." He agrees. "Now, the fuck are you reading?"

"Game of Thrones. It's like fantasy political science." She explains excitedly, launching into a rant about the complex characters she had recently found herself enveloped in.

She is so deep in her explanation that she doesn't notice how Farleigh's eyes follow her movements, warm and wanting.

Ariadne continues, undeterred. "And Sansa, she's the eldest daughter, she-"

"I missed you," Farleigh says in the middle of her speech.

Ariadne rolls her eyes, "Yeah, whatever Farleigh. We're friends again, but you seemed perfectly content where you were."

And that was the part that made Ariadne embarrassed. Farleigh was comfortable everywhere, and yet somehow, someway, even when they had spent seven years unable to get along, all of her friends were just his friends, or his cousin's, or his cousin's friends.

Ariadne felt like a human leech sometimes when she remembered how Farleigh had gifted her the life she had now.

Farleigh shakes his head, laughing, and lights a blunt. "Well, I guess I'm glad it looked that way."

Ariadne pulls it from his lips, ignoring the soft whine of complaint that emits from his lips while she does so. "You do not get to be the only one high for this conversation. And anyway, what, you weren't comfortable?"

Farleigh gives a little puff of air. "I wasn't ever comfortable without you. You were like, the only person that got my jokes and didn't think I was an asshole."

"Yeah, until you were," Ariadne mentions, breathing the smoke into his face.

"Fair enough," he laughs, and what a beautiful, light sound it is, that laugh. The way his body seems to rock with it, curling and stretching his long limbs to accept the noise.

She really, really wants to kiss him, and so she steels herself by looking away with a snort. "D'ya wanna watch a movie?"

Farleigh shrugs. "High? With you? Fuck let's see it."

Ariadne strolls back to her room, Farleigh hot on her heels, and digs into her suitcase.

"I know it's in here somewhere," she mutters frustratedly.

Farleigh turns on the TV, boots up the DVD player, and has Duncan bring them food for the munchies all before, "I fucking found it!"

Farleigh gives her a look of disbelief. "Pride and Prejudice the film?"

"Well you know I love the book, and this one has Keira Knightley in it!"

"I know, I saw the trailers, just-" he sputters. "Pride and Prejudice? It's kind of a chick flick, Ari." He rolls his eyes but smiles as he positions himself on her bed. He looks so comfortable there which makes her heart stop for just a moment before continuing.

"And? I'm a chick!" Ariadne defends, popping the DVD in.

Ariadne curls onto the bed, Farleigh beside her, as they pass the blunt between the two of them. She feels like she's atop a cloud, Farleigh's long arms wrapped tightly around her as he mumbles into her curly hair about the movie.

Ariadne was never very talkative when high. She was sort of glazed over, simply easing into the air around her, and, as a result, easing into Farleigh's body.

"Hold on, is he being serious? I never actually read the book, it was sorta your thing." Farleigh looks down at her inquisitively. He was so touchy. She didn't dislike it, of course, but she didn't like it either, if only because it was hard to focus on the intimate workings of Lizzie and Darcy when every inch of exposed skin that he touched was on fire.

"Really? Now you have to. I'll give you my copy." Ariadne hums without thinking.

Farleigh nods. "I will take you up on that."

He falls asleep, and she shakes him awake for the Missus Darcy line.

"That's so unrealistic." Farleigh groans.

Ariadne rolls her eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you had such extensive experience with living in the Regency era."

"Well," Farleigh says, "I may not be exactly from the eighteen-hundreds, but Saltburn is close enough, and that would never happen."

"Why?" Ariadne asks instinctively.

Farleigh holds her face in his hands, and she suddenly recollects how large they are when his pointer and index finger dig into her hair whilst the heel of his palm rests on her jaw. "Because, my innocent little princess, no rich person can truly be happy."

Ariadne shakes her head. "No."

"No?" Farleigh repeats her, a wide grin across his lips.

"I'm going to be happy one day, and I'm going to be in love with someone who loves me back, I got a tattoo about it. England is not the whole world, and it is definitely not my whole world," She argues, exhaling so close to his face she can see the tiny pores and ridges in his nose.

Farleigh smiles fondly and releases her face, wrapping one arm back around her. "Good luck with that, Ari. Good fucking luck."

She huffs but lets him snuggle his head into the crook of her neck.

She doesn't even notice that when he leaves to get ready for dinner - about halfway through Ten Things I Hate About You - he takes the copy of Pride and Prejudice off of her desk, and she certainly doesn't remember that the copy on her desk has almost a decade's worth of annotations and notes, many of them openly stating Farleigh's name.

For dinner that night, she wears a strappy red dress and Farleigh snorts while zipping it up. "What?" She asks, whipping around to face him.

Farleigh places his hands on her shoulders gently. "It's nothing, you just look like your mom, ya know? When we would go to those fancy cocktail parties with our parents?"

He turns her around by the shoulders to look in the mirror again, and shockingly, she finds that he's right. The straps, the thigh slit, and the bold red lip all scream Vienna Gavin's Daughter.

She also finds that she and Farleigh look good together. He's standing behind her in the mirror and for a moment she sees what she imagines other people could see in them. An intimidating, beautiful couple that could dismiss someone they disliked in an instant.

"We look like Mr. and Mrs. Smith from that Brad Pitt movie." Farleigh stage-whispers in her ear.

"We could be beautiful spies if you were a little stronger." Ariadne smiles at Farleigh through the mirror.

"I exercise!" Farleigh explains, pouting his beautiful lips at her. "I like to go for runs."

"You like to run your mouth, that's for sure," Ariadne mutters.

She turns and looks him over. Something feels off to her. "Go grab a necktie, I don't like the bowtie look, I feel like you belong in the House of Lords."

Dinner is still her least favourite part of staying at Saltburn. It is the most monotonous part of their day, sitting together and pretending like this is who they are.

Oliver stares at Felix like he hung the damn moon, and after a point, it stops being funny and becomes concerning. When dinner ends and they're all headed back to their rooms, Ariadne grabs Felix's sleeve. "Fi, can I talk to you for a second?"

Felix gives her a strange look but falls to the side with her. "What's up, pet?"

"Oliver." She says simply, waiting to see how his face changes.

Felix rubs his temple. "God, not you too."

Ariadne grabs his arm nervously, peeking over her shoulder to make sure Oliver is gone. "I just don't get the best energy off him, Fi."

Felix shakes his head. "Then what energy do you get from him, pet?"

Ariadne has a few choice words for the pit in her gut she's ascribed to Oliver Quick, least of all being that every word from his mouth sounds like a lie, but she has no evidence to the contrary. Weasel-y. Gold-digging. Evil. "Dangerous," she concludes, taking a deep breath.

"He's not dangerous, and even on the off-chance he is, I can handle it," Felix smiles quickly, but she can sense the unease just below it. Felix isn't stupid, and he isn't oblivious, but he dismisses things that don't fit his narrative, and Ariadne genuinely believes some part of him can feel that Oliver doesn't quite line up.

Ariadne sighs, holding his hands. "Felix, one day I'm not going to be here to protect you all the time, you know that, right?"

"C'mon, Ari, what're you on about? The Cattons are immortal," Felix jokes before pausing to turn stern. "Can't you just be nice, Ari? He's trying his best."

Felix at his most stern is about as intimidating to her as a puppy.

"Nice people get murdered." Ariadne deadpans. "One of us has to have our guard up. Besides, Farleigh said-"

Felix cuts her off, the defensive little bitch. "Since when are we putting so much stock into my cousin? I thought you hated each other."

Now that did hurt. She and Farleigh hadn't been kind to each other for the past seven years, but she never thought the Cattons would forget that they had originally been two-of-a-kind, and she definitely never thought they would think she hated him.

"Maybe we don't get along all the time anymore, but at least I know Farleigh. And the guy is a lot of things, shit-stirring asshole included, but he's not a liar. If you won't listen to me, at least listen to him." Ariadne gives him one more pleading look before turning to head back to her room.

#farleigh start smut #farleigh saltburn #farleigh start x black!oc #farleigh start x oc #farleigh start x original female character #saltburn smut

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