#but it doesn't take that much time before the mask drops | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelltheninth · 7 months

Note

JJK Men being sucked off 🙏

Oh you don't have to beg for that, but it is kinda fun to see how much you want it, I like knowing people really want more of my content.

Pairing: Yuuji, Sukuna, Megumi, Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Toji x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, blowjob, handjob, cockworship, encouragement, hair-pulling, cum swallowing, facial, rough oral

A/N: Okay, I think I'm slowly breaking the writing slump curse. At least I hope.

YUUJI

Keeps his hips still while whimpers fall from his lips, combining with the loud slurping sounds coming from you. Leaves most of the control to you since he wants to know what you're capable of, and he's not sure he could thrust upwards and not cause you to choke, he's a little thick so he doesn't want you to get hurt. Could be made to come many times over but you need to give him a few minutes in between, he has a lot of stamina so recovery is no issue.

SUKUNA

Uses you like a toy when you're sucking him off. He can let you do your own thing for a little while but its only a matter of time before his hands grip the roots of your hair and he starts keeping your head down until he hears you choking. You better make that sound very clear for him, he's a demon so he doesn't have a good feel for how long a human woman can go without air. If you feel like you can't make a sound then you can scratch him, he likes those too, they feel nice.

MEGUMI

Tries his damn hardest to keep his composure when you're on his knees, your hand around the base of his cock and your lips smeared with pre-cum, kissing up and down his throbbing length. If he had less control you'd be a drooling mess right now. But fuck, if you look at him like that he might make you into one anyway. Use your words if you want it, you might be cockdrunk but he wants to hear you say you want him to fuck you until you can't think.

GOJO

Enjoys it a lot when you're suck him off after a mission, that's kind of the best time for him, especially if he used his powers. Makes any energy he spent get right back into him, he needs it if he's gonna fill your pussy up later. Speaking off, he can hear you running your fingers down there, your sucking is loud but not so loud as to mask one of his favorite sounds in the world. You did well on the mission today, so you can have fun too, as long as your mouth stays on his cock.

NANAMI

This can be a nice wake up call for him, but you always have to start it off a little bit earlier then he wakes up if you want to make his morning wood go away before work. Mostly keeps his eyes closed to enjoy the warm feeling of your mouth around him but he peaks when you hum. Seeing his whole cock in your mouth, your nose close to his abs like that and a thick ring of cum forming at the base of the cock is a vision he commits to his brain for the rest of the day.

GETO

He will straddle your face and keep his cock in your mouth, let you squirm for air under him, let your tongue trace the veins in his cock as it throbs. Do you want to be able to move for him? Yes? Push him away then, with all your strength and take his cock, suck it like your life depends on it. Because it just might. If he has no use for you then, why keep you around. You want to be useful, you want to gulp down every drop of his cum as the tip keeps sinking deep into your throat, proving yourself, your loyalty to him.

TOJI

No better sight then you on his knees begging to taste his cock while he denies you. You can have his cum on your face but you need to beg harder if you want it in your mouth instead. Just like that, such a good slut for him. If you slow down for even a second he will make it so you have a very hard time forming words for the rest of the day. Keep all your attention on his cock, while he keeps giving you more cum to drink down. See? A win-win.

5K notes · View notes

ivyjupiterwrites · 1 month

Text

Not that this would ever happen, but like food for thought:

Ghost losing his military ID and you finding it. I know he doesn't have a photo on his file but Id like to think he needs some form of identification? No? It's fictional it doesn't matter anyways--

You were tidying up, sweeping and such when you saw a card face down. Immediately you recognized the back of the little shiny plastic ID and a smile rose to your lips.

Some poor bugger had been dumb enough to drop their card.

Going over to it, you were practically rubbing your hands together with anticipation of just who the noob was. Upon snatching it up from the linoleum, you eagerly flipped it over, but were left with immense confusion.

Who the fuck is this guy?

Your brows furrowed as your eyes flickered over the picture hungrily. You'd never seen him before in your life, which you considered a pity really. He was handsome, that you had to admit, yet a stranger all the same.

It was only after lingering seconds of taking in every square inch of the photo, attempting desperately to place a name to the face did you hazard a look at the actual name of who owned it.

Silence encapsulated you in your entirety. The music which lowly played overhead was muffled out, the slight sound of your breathing faded and the tweeting from the birds just outside the window halted.

You were staring at the ID of none other than one Lieutenant Simon Riley.

Blinking dumbly, a strange, tinging sensation began spreading through your limbs at this forbidden knowledge. How had he managed to lose his card? How the hell were you supposed to return it without giving yourself away or up??

Slapping it down upon the table with the back facing upwards, you have a five minute brain storming session on what to do. Involved in the matter was much pacing, along with sweats, shakes and the occasional pause to flip the card over and sneak another peek.

Eventually you decided that it would be easiest to either slip it under his door. So you take a sticky, place it over his face, write him a small note and set off on your return journey.

You sprint away from the scene, not wanting to be caught mid return. Not exactly considering the more of a rush you make yourself seem in, the more guilty you looked.

It didn't take long before you saw him next, stomping around, throwing things aside recklessly. You could practically feel the flames shooting off of him with how pissed he was; and against your better judgement, you suggest he maybe go look in his room.

That perhaps, just perhaps, some good samaritan had found it. Your feeble attempts to ease his mind absolutely did not help, but he did follow your advice and went and checked. Sure you hadn't been the most casual, but it was better than the unhinged fit of rage you knew he was undoubtedly immersed in.

Lividly he clomps away, storming off to his residence to--in his mind--be met with nothing.

Or so he assumed.

Your vaguely pointed directions solidify the funky feeling in his chest when he opens his door and the card is actually there. Narrowing his masked gaze, he reaches down to the downwards facing ID and plucked it from the floor.

As he grabs it, his fingers brush against something other than just the cards hard plastic. Flipping it over, he finds it the sticky note you had placed over the picture and on it, in pretty writing was "keep better watch of this next time handsome, who knows who could've found it ;)"

He looks up into his room from the card, a mixture of emotions but confused was the biggest currently. His anger had to take a back seat as his mind was thrown into a mixture of emotions and thoughts. His mind is conjuring up a thousand different possibilities, yet none of them fit.

At least not well enough for his liking, however plausible.

He never directly calls you out, as that would mean he would also have to loudly state he had lost his ID in the first place. Instead of saying much of anything to you, he simply opted to watch you from there on out. Leering from the corner to see if you acted weird.

And since he always gives you heart palpitations, and there wasn't excactly a time you weren't making a fool of yourself in front of him, he had nothing new to observe.

Deep down in his soul--he knows.

bonus:

Ghost rides the instinctual feeling until one day during a meeting when Price gets you to write on a whiteboard. "You have much better writing than my old scratching, be a dear and jot this down for me?"

Compliantly, thinking nothing of it, you begin to do just as asked and jot down whatever Price is listing off to you across the board. Attempting to make it as neat and legible as possible, you were in your zone and all thoughts of the ID incident pushed to the back of your mind.

And there he is met with the neat, beautifully scrawled writing yet again and it's a very intense but silent mini freak out full circle connect the dots where he's like 'I KNEW IT DAMMIT!!!!' but very casually without any movement whatsoever aside from maybe a slight eye widen.

#simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost mw2

2K notes · View notes

cherubfae · 2 months

Text

jealous slashers~!✧

With Michael, Brahms, Jason, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Thomas Sawyer, Sal Fisher, & Patrick Bateman

tags: gn!reader, jealousy, creepy men, unwanted attention/touching, uggestive and mature themes, gore/blood, violence, canon typical behavior, billy x reader x stu poly, rob zombie!mikey, I know Sal isn't exactly a slasher but he's my baby and needs to be included

Alexa, play Love to Die by the Slashstreet Boys

Michael

Rest in Peace to the poor, stupid man who thought it'd be a good idea to mess with the Shape's partner, and Michael had witnessed it all. How this man shoves you into an empty alleyway, the clatter of your groceries falling. The guy doesn't get much more than a few bruises and claw marks when Michael's knife slices through the back of the man's throat, protruding from the other end in a splash of blood. The Shape watches you wipe your bloody face off, not doing much but picking up three of your four fallen bags and tugging you into his side.

Brahms

Absolutely not. Brahms is fuckin' seething from his safe space sheltered behind the walls. Heavy breathing muffled by the porcelain mask, he watches with wild eyes as some idiot decides to break into the mansion whilst you were sleeping, and proceeds to hold you at knifepoint, effectively pinning you to the bed in what little nightclothes you wore. The unwanted guest and you are certainly going to know when Brahms is upset. There's banging on the walls coming from every direction that leaves the would-be burglar panicked and you slightly more comfortable.

"You're not allowed to be here," comes the eerily childlike voice Brahms has perfected. He crawls his way out from behind the large antique mirror. "I'll make sure you never come near them again." With a sudden slam, Brahms downs the intruder with a lead pipe repeatedly bashing the object until all that remains was brain matter and gooey blood. He drops the pipe with a huff and collects you into his arms, the cool porcelain biting onto the heat of your chest.

Jason

As the protector of the surrounding forest, Jason is always watching. He's omnipotent, he sees all. He seems to know where people are at all times and he can sense when you're in distress. Your shared cabin door left ajar sends his blood boiling and his heavy footfall increasing as he approaches your home. Barging in, Jason's pale eyes lock onto you and your assailant holding you by the throat. His thunderous steps are quick, slicing through the man with his machete and proceeds to lift him up while still pierced with the blade. The man gurgles, arms weakly reaching behind him in attempts to claw at Jason. All attempts were futile. He tossed the body to the side before he gently frets over you, his large hands soothing the fingerprints tarnishing your throat.

Billy & Stu

Rather snake-like the two will wrap themselves around you (they adore your personal space) and stare down whoever else demands your attention. Billy's arm hooks around your waist and Stu wraps himself around your shoulder, tilting your chin up with a single finger. "Is this guy bothering you, baby?" Looking like a shark that's tasted blood in the water, Billy's eyes grow more wild. He's already making a mental note of who and where this guy lives. The guy raised his hands in defense backing down the more the two stared at him, walking off completely.

"We're gonna take care of him, doll," Billy promises, kissing your cheek. Stu cackles lightly, tongue sticking out. They would strike tonight.

Vincent

There's no one Vincent trusts more to watch over you when he can't than his own two brothers. He had his hands full, turning Dalton and Wade into wax people. Nick and Carly were proving to be hard to get a hold of and there was still another tourist that needed to be taken care of.

But then Bo is telling him that the person escaped and he doesn't know where you were. His two worst fears confirmed. Vincent is soon on a wild hunt, trying to find you anywhere with Bo hot on his heels. He soon locates you, passed out with a bit of blood on your head. Your eyes slowly open as he touches your cheek, catching you as you wobble into his warm embrace. He shares a look with Bo who nods.

"I've got you, brother. Keep them here with ya. Wait til I'm back, ya hear?"

Out in public, he's all cordial and kind smiles. Especially if this is an intended victim. Some random person putting the moves on his partner is a huge no-no and one Bo doesn't take lightly. That person just warranted themselves a for sure death sentence and Bo isn't feeling too kind, so perhaps he'll drag things out, yeah? Touch what's his and you got what's comin' to ya.

"Can I see, baby? That bastard leave any marks on ya?" Bo strokes your shoulders, blue eyes drifting over your frame like water. He has every intention of marking every place that person touched, no matter if you tell Bo the guy only grabbed your arm. Once he has his mind set on something, he's gonna do it.

Lester

Unlike his older twin brothers, Lester is actually pretty chill. Especially in comparison to Bo. He doesn't think much of the people he's helping get into Ambrose knowing full well it's their final destination and Vincent and Bo will take care of things as they always have. What he doesn't like is some dude making a pass at you right in front of him. Can't he see the engagement ring on your finger? It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, watching with narrowed eyes as the small group heads towards the mechanic shop in search of a fan belt.

A familiar hand on his arm calms him down instantly. He turns to you and musters a weak smile as your hands slide around his torso from behind, leaning your cheek on his shoulder. "Y'alright?" Lester nods too quickly and unconvincingly, giving you a quick kiss. "Yeah, darl', always."

Thomas

Your partner is not unlike a bear, watching with wild eyes as one of Hoyt's new catches clasps onto you, their nails digging into your arms, and pinning you to the barbed fence. The cry of pain you let out has Tommy barreling towards you, chainsaw revving to life. A deep snarl echoes behind his mask and he wastes no time cutting down the poor soul with a single swipe of his motorized saw. Tommy turns it off and picks you up in his large arms as gently as he can. With his masked cheek leaning against yours, he carries you back towards the house. Mama Luda Mae will take a good look at you.

Sal Fisher

Honestly Sal isn't one to get jealous. He's pretty level-headed and understanding in most situations. He respects your choices and he's not gonna step on any toes or do anything drastic; Sal isn't a monster. However, if he sees some guy make a creepy pass at you and clearly overstep your boundaries, he won't hesitate to swoop in, looping his arm around your shoulders. His sharp blue eyes staring at the man from behind his prosthetic mask.

"Do we have a problem here?" His voice is cold, lacking any interest in what excuse the man finds. Sal's main focus will be on you, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into your skin. His main priority is to get you away from this sicko and would totally call in reinforcements from his brother Larry if need be.

Patrick

A jealous Patrick Bateman isn't a good scenario for anyone. Especially not with his deteriorating mental state. He trusts you explicitly, with his thoughts, ideas, and recreational hobbies that most would find distasteful. So when a colleague of his gets too big for his britches and unabashedly begins to flirt with you in his presence, Patrick finds it difficult to keep his boiling bloodlust at bay. The heat of his anger is getting to his head, the fierce emotions only swelling well it's clear how uncomfortable you look in that man's company. He must see to put an end to him quickly.

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

"Are you alright, my darling? That man surely didn't know his place, did he?" Patrick places a hand at your back, guiding you out of the office party. "Let's get you home and into a nice hot bath, hmm? I'd rather not taste that swine on your lovely skin."

1K notes · View notes

bi-writes · 4 months

Text

huhhhhh more bestfriend!roommate!simon x fem!reader because i want them to touch

more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 4/?)

cw: nsfw (18+), suggestive language and content, mature language and content, kissing over the mask, simon "my girl cums first" riley, fem!receiving touching, praise kink, size kink, simon's thicc thighs need a warning, simon "the mask doesn't come off" riley

simon had a bad habit.

a nose-scrunching habit, a oddly pretty habit, a clouding habit.

you shut the door behind you, locking it. you dropped your keys by the door, slipping your sneakers off and hanging your jacket up. you had the day shift today, so simon let you walk home on your own. but he didn't know when you were coming home, and you suspect that's why he was outside on the balcony, a cigarette between his index and middle finger as he leaned against the wall.

you come up to the sliding door, narrowing your eyes before knocking on the glass. simon didn't move immediately, but you saw him turn his face away, tossing the cigarette onto the floor and stubbing it out with the toe of his combat boot. when he turned to look at you, his mask was on, and there was a little apprehension in those dark eyes.

you gripped the handle of the door, sliding it open. he moved to stand in front of you, taking up the entirety of the doorway, broad shoulders taking up the width of the space.

"luv--"

"shut the fuck up, simon," you snapped. you reached over and gripped the front of his hoodie, yanking him inside. he had to maneuver his shoulders to slip inside, and you brought him right up against you so you could glare right up at him. "you know, it's one thing to come back from your boys' nights smelling like it, but in our home?! simon! how many times do i have to tell you that those things will kill you?!"

he sighed, shaking his head a little.

"trust me, luv," he murmured. "this isn't what'll kill me."

"you shut up," you reached up and gripped his masked chin, forcing his eyes on yours. your eyes were a little watery, and your bottom lip trembled. "don't say things like that. don't you dare."

the air was a little stiff. simon was a bit ashamed, averting his gaze. you leaned up and put both hands on his cheeks, putting his eyes on yours again.

"look at me, simon," you said lowly. "i...i cant tell you what to do. i'm not your mother. but i don't like it. its not good for you. i..." you looked down. "i'm sorry. i'm not trying to...i'm not trying to control you, i just--"

"its alright, luv," he quieted you. "it's alright, i know."

you sighed, dropping your hands to rest on his chest. your splayed your palms there, feeling the warmth of him. you held back a smile when you noticed him puffing out his chest a bit, flexing the muscles under your palms as you pressed against solid flesh.

"big, bad lieutenant riley..." you hummed lowly. "nothing can kill you, is that it?"

simon narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side as he grunted.

"dunno what'll kill me, luv, but it won't be a bloody smoke."

you smiled wide finally, your eyes sparkling as you looked towards the kitchen.

"what do you want for dinner, simon? did you go shopping like i asked?"

"'f course i did," he said quickly, his tone nearly offended for even a hint that he you had doubted that he would do ask you asked. you let go of him, making your way to the kitchen. simon let his eyes wander. you were still wearing your uniform from the diner, pretty white and red stripes in the most adorable dress he'd ever seen. he'd curse the man who'd made you wear it the day he saw it the first time; his gaze that couldn't help but follow the valley of your breasts, the way the skirt fell over the curve of your ass--he felt like a teenager fawning over something so trivial about you, so physical and seemingly superficial, but you looked fantastic in it. his beautiful girl, the one he had known since she was only 17, how she grew and blossomed and before he knew, there was no other woman who could take up as much space in his mind as you.

simon had been to many dark places. the dark edges of torture, the narrow walls of being cornered by an enemy, the hot places where hell was just right over the cliff--he was a machine of order and sheer will, he had killed the parts of himself that never quite suited him for war, but somehow, this place with you stayed the same. it was the one constant he knew, the one constant that just never, ever changed, and for that, he was grateful.

you don't think simon riley believes in god. but he believes in you.

simon had been around the world. he had seen the worst of humanity, ripped his own right out of his chest, but none of it mattered as he sat down on the couch he had picked out with you. he remembered when you sent him the pictures of it, your voice on the other line of the phone as you told him how much you liked the pieces. he had been on deployment, and while he could care fuck all about what color the couch in your shared living room was, it was important to you so it was important to him.

"simon?"

your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"simon, could you open that bottle of wine? i need it for the stew."

domestic. fuck, this was too domestic, it was simple, it was calm. simon never flinched, not even when a bullet would hit the wall by his head, but fuck, the sight of you stirring vegetables in a pot in the kitchen of your shared apartment was making his head spin.

simon riley never missed his target. he set his sights on what he wanted, and with the ease and practice of a lieutenant, he crossed another name off his list.

and one could say that his pretty, little roommate, the woman who had been there before the scars and loved him even after them, was another target. your figure was in his sight, but fuck, his hand was shaking.

when the pot was simmering, you poured yourself a glass of wine and came towards him on the couch. simon was sitting, legs spread a little wide, his hands on his thighs as his eyes were fixed on the low hum of the television. you took a seat beside him after setting aside your glass, putting your feet up underneath you and leaning up against his arm.

"simon? everything alright?"

he turned to face you. a low shadow hung over his face, the hood of his jacket making his face appear even darker despite the mask he wore. you reached over under the hood and brushed a few strands of his hair off his forehead, tracing a small scar against his hairline. you smiled at him, running your knuckles down his temple. in the low light, you could barely see even his eyes, but simon spoke so much with just his eyes. they were beautiful. they were alive, had so much emotion, and you wondered always if maybe simon had learned to speak with them knowing it was the only part of him truly visible.

you lowered your gaze as he pressed his forehead to yours. his skin was warm, and you put a hand on his thigh to steady yourself. you swallowed, noticing how much smaller your hand looked next to his. he wore gloves, like always, but it didn't hide the size of him.

lieutenant simon riley. your simon. built like a fucking bear, a mind of impenetrable steel, eyes that had seen the nine circles of hell and wouldn't spill any of their secrets, simon riley who died and a ghost who brought him back and the woman that he dreamed about when they had taken everything from him except his goddamn memories--

he was kissing you. not in the way other men had kissed you, but in the way that simon riley would kiss you. the front of his mask met your lips, a touch of fabric that was warm and soft and melted your insides with a thousand unspoken words. he whispered your name against your lips, a quiet thing that felt like prayer. and maybe it was a sort of prayer, one that only he could make real, one that only he could make sound like faith and all the ugly, sorry truths that it brought with it.

but there was nothing ugly about this kind of prayer. it held no malice. it was pretty and soft and the only kind of word that ever brought him memories and not nightmares.

you were the one to press your lips to his. even through the fabric, it was like kissing someone for the first time. but not just anyone, simon. simon--simon who kissed your tears when you got stood up at a school dance. simon who promised into your hair that he would come back when you discovered the letters about his deployment overseas. simon who beat the manager at the first bar you ever worked at for following you home one night after your shift. simon who died when his family did and then came back, but only within the walls of your shared apartment and nowhere else.

simon, simon, simon--

his hand was under your dress. one gloved palm slipped up the back of your skirt, caressing one side of your ass as he guided you into his lap.

"simon--"

you choked on his name when you felt bare fingers slide over the edge of your panties. you reached up and cupped both sides of his face, whining as he moved his fingers under the fabric. your cunt was wet and glossy, and he pressed his face into the palm of your hand when he realized just how much time he had wasted being anything other than yours. and he had always been yours, but fuck, why hadn't he ever told you?

"youre so pretty, luv..." he smoothed his other hand up your back, tangling his fingers in your hair and tugging just enough to make you moan. "so pretty...so bloody wet...have you always been like this?"

you nod, unable to speak. his fingers spread your puffy folds apart, a soft wet sound that makes you cry. you want him to put those fingers inside of you, to make you ride his hand until you see nothing but white, but you just cant seem to form any words.

"oh, luv...youre a bloody mess..." he chuckled a bit. "fuckin' hell...let me see you--"

he picked up the skirt of your dress, his dark eyes flickering down. he cursed his breath, fisting the lace of your panties and ripping them right off. you whimpered as he tossed them onto the floor.

"christ, luv, can't believe i ever let this cunt be with another man. look at ya. it's fuckin' christmas mornin', aye?"

"you hate christmas--"

"dunno. could be more inclined if i got to have you in the mornin'."

"fuck you--"

"not yet, sweetheart."

simon never really thought you were much of a singer. but the crying and the begging and the moaning was music--and he was learning how to play you just right.

fingers teasing your cunt, he can feel the way your body aches for something more--something big and eager and warm, something that needs you badly, but fuck--you're so pretty with his name in your mouth and your cum on his fingers.

mine, mine, mine--

he grunted when you gripped his wrist, steadying his fingers enough so you could sink down on them. he groaned lowly, watching you tilt your head back and ride his fingers. sinking those gorgeous hips down again and again, putting his hand to use in a way that felt wrong up until now. fuck holding a sniper rifle and putting bad men to sleep--his hand was made to please you, that much was clear to him now.

you were so tight. grinding slow against him, dripping down his fingers, crying out when his thumb moved a gentle circle over your clit and his fingers slipped up enough to graze a pretty spot inside of you.

"nnngghhh--simon--"

"that's it, luv...'s it..."

you laid your forehead against his, nodding along to his words but your thoughts were only on the feeling of him. one finger, a second finger, a third--fucking up into you and feeling the squeezing of your soft walls and touching you in every way that made you dizzy and warm and cock-drunk--

"fuck, fuck, fuck--!"

you sobbed against his covered mouth as you came over his hand, a cloud of euphoria and pleasure and the soft thoughts of him that seemed to string together in some wonderful, hazy picture of him. simon was all hard lines, rough edges, the cut of broken glass or the wrong end of a gun, but it never mattered to you.

simon was the beginning and the end, of what, you weren't sure, but he was the beginning of something and definitely the end of it.

his eyes were on yours, dark, beautiful eyes that never lost their gentleness even when they should've been permanently black with his rage. simon was not angry. simon was not bent on revenge or eager to kill or smiling the face of death.

no, simon was in love. simon was so fucking in love.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut

2K notes · View notes

deadsetobsessions · 4 months

Text

Okay, so maybe Tim has no business being in Bludhaven. Tim maintains that since his parents fail at parenting, he can do whatever he wants.

Besides, it's for a good cause. Like, not letting Tarantula get her dirty hands on his big brother in another time line. Tarantula had popped up in the Bludhaven servers - by that, Tim means the endless amounts of threads and underground fronts for criminal activity that he stalks on a regular basis- by being seen with Nightwing. Tim had immediately booked a ride to Bludhaven and bought another burner. He'd try to take care of her himself, but if worse comes to worse, he'd call Deathstroke. He's totally aware of the weird tension Deathstroke has with Nightwing and Tim's kind of banking on that.

Dick's been back in Blud for two months now, Jason having assuaged his mother hen tendencies enough for Dick to get sick of the Manor. Tim hadn't meant to follow since he had plenty of projects to work on now that "SAVE JASON" wasn't blaring at the top of his head.

But then Tarantula appeared and Tim saw red, remembering the way Dick spoke about her and what she did to him.

He bids the driver goodbye. The driver doesn't question his being on his lonesome mainly because 1) Gothamites mind their own busines, 2) Tim gave him a $500 tip to make sure he remains a "good" Gothamite cabbie, and 3) Tim made sure he was dropped off in the swankiest, most ostentatious hotel Bludhaven had to offer.

"Rich people," the cab driver had muttered as Tim closed the door. Perfect.

Tim got his keycard, having checked in under Alvin Draper over the phone. Normally, they'd require an in person visit, but money talks. And people listened when Tim had a lot of things to say.

Tim even feels like he's trained enough to go out! Lady Shiva's training was ingrained into his memory, and Tim's built enough muscle to make use of some of it. He is still nine, after all. He's so much stealthier this time around. Plus, he's got almost his full tool set back. Sure, some of the tech is ancient, but he managed to finagle it to make grappling guns and smoke pellets more along the quality that he's used to.

Tim waits until nightfall, looping the surveillance around his window to mask his exit. Tim adjusts his domino, eyes scanning the city skyline as his handheld computer (god, he can't believe he has to invent wrist computers) tracked reports of Nightwing through Tweetings.

Ah. He's around Seventh. Tim grimaces as his untested joints adjusts to the grappling guns. His dark clothes make him hard to spot, to his advantage as he tracks down Nightwing.

Tim watches, perched on an adjacent roof as Nightwing takes down a crowd of goons with the flips Tim remembered watching from afar and up close in another timeline.

"Blockbuster'll kill everyone you love, Nightwing!"

Tim winces at the rather brutal crunch that followed, Nightwing having punched the guy and knocked him out in one move. He watches Dick sigh, tugging at his hair in stress.

Tim could... no, no. He shouldn't think of murder as a first option. Well, no, he shouldn't think of Deathstroke as a first option. But he'll need to take Blockbuster out before anything happens. And he needs to threaten the new Tarantula before anything happens. He won't allow her to even get close to Dick.

Maybe it's unfair to punish her for a crime she hasn't done, but unlike murder, rape can never be defended. Catalina Flores is a dead woman walking.

Tim stalks his big brother back home and then broke off to begin his short reign of terror over Bludhaven's underground. If he can't get Dick to take a break (and Tim's tried, a lot, over the years) then he'll make sure that the next month is as gentle as possible on his older brother.

Step 1. Murder Take care of Blockbuster

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

No. Wait. Tim has a better idea. He's got dirt on them, on top of the murder thing. He'll fabricate Catalina's tax returns, embezzle a shit ton of money from the IRS, and get her and her corrupt brother (because getting your sister out from murder charges is considered corrupt) arrested and locked away. And he'll make sure they stay locked away with some good old blackmail on Amanda Waller.

Tim grins, tranquilizing the building with an ungodly amount of knock out gas pellets, to riffle through the police precinct's files.

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

Step 2. Cripple Catalina Flores and her brother with blackmail and the IRS.

In three hours, Tim has everything he needs to begin a temporary hostile takeover. He's got the names of local mob bosses, the big players, and the names of practically every police officer that takes bribes and their... sponsors.

He'll have to cut off Blockbuster's lines of supplies first. Then, blacklist him from local suppliers, mobilize the police precinct against him (by imitating his M.O. perfectly- Tim's not a fucking amateur- and pretending to rob the precinct blind), and then break his knees.

Step 3. Profit

Tim takes out his shiny new burner phone, enjoying the loud sounds of the police squawking through his planted bugs. He lounges on the building next to it, keeping an eye out for Nightwing just in case the man decides to respond to the crisis.

[Unknown: It's RR.]

[Deathstroke: New phone?]

[RR: Who dis?]

[Deathstroke: What?]

[RR: Nevermind. I'll give you forty thousand to shoot someone's knees out.]

[Deathstroke:... That's it? Who?]

[RR: Blockbuster. Bludhaven. Extra twenty thousand if you tell him he's got the spine of a sea slug, kick him in the balls, and post it on Tweeting.]

[Deathstroke: What did he do to you? Deal.]

Tim ignored Deathstroke's question.

[RR: Half sent. Confirm?]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed. Timeline?]

[RR: Three weeks. 21 days.]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed.]

----

Tim grins ferally, all teeth as Catalina Flores looked on in horror at her computer screen.

"Get out of Bludhaven, and don't come back. If you even think of going near Nightwing, I will rip what's left of your pathetic, sniveling swine of a brother apart. You will not enjoy the consequences."

Tim clicks off, watching Catalina and her brother launch themselves into mad packing. He tapped out a short message to Amanda Waller for her and her team to intercept them at the state lines. They'll never get away from Tim's fury. Never.

[Waller: It's done.]

[Waller: I will find you.]

[RR: You can definitely try, Waller. Good doing business with you.]

Tim can see the blood vessel the woman popped after he sent that last message. He laughs.

He saves Deathstroke's video from Tweeting onto his actual, spoofed phone. He destroys the burner phone, less shiny now that he's dragged it through two and a half weeks of breaking heads and terrorizing the Bludhaven Underground. Nightwing hadn't even gotten a whiff of his activities, this Dick being far less experienced and known in this version of Blud.

One more week and Tim can continue his other projects.

----

Nightwing, going about his vigilante business: wow it sure is peaceful

Feral Tim Drake, Nightwing's scary dog privilege: try me, bitch

1K notes · View notes

lxvvie · 7 months

Text

More goofball shit featuring your faves. This time it revolves around this scenario: your lover is away, you're winding down for the day, and it's that time of the week when you do your face mask. They FaceTime you (or you them, depending), you answer with the mask on, and... reactions may vary. Or something like that.

Capt. John Price - The old man is actually nonplussed about it, if only because you got him the first time he talked to you with your mask on and he damn near had a heart attack. Dropped his cigar in his lap and everything.

Gaz - "Hey, love—oh, shit—!" The call disconnects and you're laughing your ass off. You got him back for pranking you and made damn well sure you were in the dark before you answered him.

Alex Keller - He was tired and wanted to send his love before he got some shut-eye for a bit. Then he saw you and was jolted back awake. Kinda. What really happened was that he spent the next couple of seconds looking crazy as shit and wondering if that was really you. Got his confirmation when he heard your voice. Hell yeah, his ass needs some sleep.

Soap - Kinda sulks in Golden Retriever because he would really like to partake in the goodness that is skincare with you because he really needs to de-stress, his skin isn't doing too good this time around, and you're wearing one of his shirts—how could you tease him like that?! Sulks even more when he finds out you're using the Aloe Vera mask this time, too.

Ghost - You know that one person who you FaceTime and y'all just spend a few minutes looking at each other? That's you and Ghost. His mask is up past his lips so you see the stubble—god, you miss the way it brushes against your inner thigh—and he's just... staring at you. Placidly. And you're staring at his lips him. Not-so-placidly. "Nice mask, lovie," Ghost breaks the silence, and you: "Better than yours, Simon?" He snorts good-naturedly, "Not even close." Cheeky bastard.

Alejandro - Has one of the most anti-climatic reactions ever. Doesn't even miss a beat with whatever it is he's doing and tells you to get some much-needed rest. Also mentally makes a note to take you up on your offer of getting a face mask once he gets home.

Rudy - Stops himself mid-laughter. Tries to hold it in. Busts out laughing. This was after he was startled because how else was he supposed to deal with the nervous energy? "What's so funny, Rodolfo?" Oh, shit, he knows that tone—

König - König.exe is in overdrive because you're using the sheet mask he bought for you. You can't see the goofy smile but you see the way his eyes crinkle. He'll be riding this high for a couple days, give or take. You'd give a smile in return but with the way the mask is practically plastered to your face...

Horangi - He's the one who bets that you'll fall asleep with it on. Bullshit. You were just resting your eyes because you had to keep it on for 20-30 minutes.

Graves - Doesn't even bother to react because he's seen you with a face mask on more often than not. Does pull this stunt though: "Say hey to the guys, darlin'. Wish 'em luck." And there you are in all of your skin-care glory for them to see. You awkwardly say hey and one sweet soul awkwardly waves back. Go to hell, Phillip.

Valeria - Turns out she loves her some face masks as well and y'all could be twinning, babes. And then she finds out which one you're using. "Huh. Sounds familiar. That wouldn't happen to be one of the ones I purchased, would it?" Oh, look at the time, gotta run—

Roach - Hits you with the thumbs up. Until you tell him you got one just for him, too. Uh...

Keegan - Spends the better part of your conversation wondering if you're okay (if the way he keeps staring intensely is any indication) because there can only be one masked mess in this relationship and it sure as hell shouldn't be you. You then had to give him a crash course in skin care.

2K notes · View notes

recuira · 7 months

Text

Buggy Headcanons ˗ˏˋ꒰🍒꒱ˎˊ˗

★ — OPLA Buggy the Clown ♡

﹢he's the type of guy to follow the "i hate everyone but you" trope. the second he sees you, his heart lights up and he drops everything he's doing to go talk to you, even just for a moment. he could be heated, yelling at his crew, but when he sees you, he smiles and drops everything until you leave.

﹢he's a sucker for cuddles. absolutely loves them. if he's had a long and stressful day, he'll just fall on top of you and pass out. he loves to lay on you. his head on your chest as he rub his back or play with his hair. he definitely snores. not too loud but not quiet either. sometimes it'll get loud and you'll need to wake him up to get some decent sleep x)

﹢both a morning/night person. he goes to bed late and wakes up early. he doesn't get too much sleep because of how busy he is. sometimes the only time he gets with you is when you're both in me. if he's not deathly tired, he'll lay on his side with his head propped up on his hand as he listens to you talk about your day. your voice soothes him.

﹢he's very insecure. lowkey hates himself. his ego is forced and a facade for others so he can intimidate them. he hates his nose. he hates the subject being brought up in any conversation. when he was younger, before meeting shanks, he would wear a mask to hide his nose.

﹢i know everyone is like "buggy is a sex god and dominant and-" no. sorry. he is extremely insecure. it took him a while to show you who he really was. he lets himself unfold with you. he is himself with you. his true self.

﹢the crossbones on his forehead and upper cheek are tattooed on but he paints his face with makeup. his eyelashes are naturally long but he does wear falsies to accentuate it and make himself look more like a clown. his hair is naturally long but he tends to tuck and pin it back underneath the striped bandana.

﹢he likes things to be equal during sex. no top or bottom. as cringe as it may sound, he loves to call it 'love-making'. no fucking or hooking up - rather making love with one another. he worships you, especially in the bedroom. constant kisses and praise. loves doing all of the work, especially if you're stressed out. his favorite position is when you're both laying down on your sides and your holding each other while he makes love to you.

﹢he's a strict believer in taking care of you. pays for meals, surprises you with presents, doesn't want you working- he wants you to be completely comfortable and satisfied. someone as special like you should never even lift a finger. he has it all covered.

﹢loves to let you do his makeup. sometimes he'll be reading the newspaper while you're painting his eyes or lips. it's like he's an actor and you're his makeup artist. he can never get the lines as precise and as neat as you can. once you're finished, he gives you a kiss on your cheek, leaving a red mark. this happens every time.

﹢he's a goofy drunk, very humorous and silly. but as he sobers up, he becomes extremely clingy and doesn't let go of you.

﹢in the public eye, he acts very possessive of you, like he's the one in control. he always needs to be touching you. if you're apart, he'll send a hand your way and hold yours while he's busy. preferably his off-hand so he can still get some work done.

﹢people are scared of him for obvious reasons but when it's just the two of you, he's a big baby. sometimes he'll even use a certain voice whenever he talks to you. you tease him in public, telling others he's a completely different person when you two are alone. he laughs, calls you crazy, and plays it off.

﹢he loves no one more than he loves you.

﹢whenever he performs a show, he always gets you a seat up front. makes sure you can kick your feet up, your popcorn is always full, and you're enjoying yourself. whenever he pulls someone up on the set to help with one of his acts, you're almost always the person he picks.

﹢his favorite moments with you are when you're sitting on the deck of his ship, everyone else is asleep, and the two of you are counting the stars together and admiring one another.

﹢he loves to eat. if you two are eating together, he'll ask for the rest of yours and then some. messy eater, too.

﹢he's a great listener. loves to hear about your day.

﹢he loves to give you massages. just loves to pamper you, in general. your feet will be kicked up on his lap as he rubs them and you vent about your day or your laying on your back and he's above you, massaging your shoulders and hips.

﹢he just loves you. and he is a sweet and delicate man so treat him like one. he's the type of guy to sacrifice the world for you, not you for the world.

#buggy one piece #buggy the genius jester #captain buggy #buggy the clown #one piece live action #op buggy #x reader #buggy #buggy x reader #buggy smut #one piece buggy #opla buggy #buggy headcanons #buggy opla

2K notes · View notes

not-the-cheese · 9 months

Text

one sentence(ish) summaries of every magnus archive episode PART 2

(eps 61-110) thank u for the funny comments and tags on the last part i love u guys

the rest of these may take a while as i've caught up to where i am currently in the podcast but i will finish them like in a month i promise

----

61. the thrilling sequel to man does not open coffin: man DOES open coffin.

62. surely this doctor can find an easier way to scam people out of money than putting them in a little book.

63. THE DARK ATE MY BROTHER IN LAW.

64. this is possibly the plot of laura croft tomb raider

65. mmm crumchy

66. what's the opposite of an unboxing video

67. as close to a coffeeshop au as you're going to get from this podcast

68. Doctors hate him! Man REFUSES to die from tuberculosis!

69. your college's psych department has the worst idea ever.

70. reverse death note

71. not even death will stop this woman from taking the british subway

72. man doesn't want to be low key racist in his last moments before getting eaten

73. police versus the second coming of dark jesus

74. lady is haunted by an ad for coffee

75. mike crew says "uh fuck it let's just put this guy on a skyscraper forever"

76. ryan from buzzfeed unsolved breaks into a train yard and suffers consequences

77. you're not a enough of a bitch to be my real mom

78. man gets harassed by his cousin and then exorcises him

79. you know that chase scene in scooby doo with the doors

youtube

80. stupid idiot motherfucking jurgen leitner

81. i have been personally victimized by the sequel to the hungry hungry caterpillar

82. pov: elias threatens to cancel you

83. mannequin takes matters into its own hands after people don't like its pitch for a new window display

84. a hoarder put newspaper on my friend's face :(

85. hey there's maybe a little man upon these stairs?

86. man gets got by a squiggly thing in the dark.

87. plumber is so oblivious to spooky happenings around him that it possibly saves his life.

88. guys i think this guy likes to dig

89. lesbian investment banker finds a new, less evil job: arson!

90. guy who turns people's bones starts a gym where he promises not to turn your bones! (he is lying)

91. i was stalked by lightning for 10 years and i all i got were these stupid scars

92. jonah magnus is a bad friend // another day another elias slay

93. ocd is no match for purple fuzz

94. let the bodies drop gently to the floor let the bodies drop gently to the floor

95. im so sorry my brain refuses to remember what the war ones were about but i think one guy got gently kissed on the forehead so that's pretty nice.

96. diversity wins! the not-quite-human delivery men who stole your identity and business are maybe gay?

97. man gets gaslighted by an entire town about a hole

98. 🎶mister sandman bring me a dream, actually don't, please stay far from me 🎶

99. another one bites the dust

100. archival assistants face off against the general public (they lose)

101. jon finally levels up high enough to unlock an eldritch horror's tragic backstory

102. LOCAL MAN MARRIES BUG

103. peppa eats a clown and they cover her in concrete instead of congratulating her.

104. pennywise stole my brother's skin

105. it's world war z baby

106. Something Big Is In Space.

107. man is interrogated about the time he saw thomas the train roasts people alive and also sans is there

108. actor is stalked by mask who liked his monologue so much that it tells its mask friends to come watch.

109. sometimes a family is just a serial killer's daughter and that guy who maybe killed some vampires

110. yeah man those spiders be eating

Part 1 |

#tma #i hope this convinces you to listen to tma #the magnus archives #sasha james #jon sims #podcasts #gay podcasts #elias bouchard #peter lukas #melanie king #gerard keay #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #funny #one sentence summaries #sillyposting #Youtube #queer

2K notes · View notes

periwinkla · 1 month

Text

I think what I love the most about AA is that characters have a duality to them that I don't see often in media. They have actual flaws and do actual bad things, and it's not glossed over. Phoenix is a fundamentally good person, he helps people at the drop of a hat, risks his life for them. Has a penchant for taking strays under his wing. He believes in people... but also not really. He carries a literal lie detector with him at all times, and only employs people who can also peer into other people's hearts. So is he really that trusting? Sure he trusts his clients are innocent, but he doesn't trust they will tell him the truth at all (there's always something to lie about). He believes himself naive, and that's why he works extra hard not to be. Some people think he changed with his disbarment but I feel like when he actually changed was after Dahlia. He became less and less trusting as time went on. And Phoenix actually does forge evidence and risks his subordinate's career, and he says pretty nasty things sometimes (that one time to Edgeworth had got to hurt, badly, especially if you consider that the note could have been genuine at first, which we don't know for sure), has a pretty tactless and somewhat hurtful sense of humor, brings his daughter to cheat at poker, and doesn't tell said daughter she actually has some family left alive. He's secretive, elusive and cryptic, and masks it under a false pretence of goofiness. Miles is, by contrast, very easy to read. He may appear emotionally stunted but is one of the more emphathetic characters. He realizes when he's wrong and immediately needs to correct those wrongs. He grows uneasy and uncertain and eventually recognizes when he's mistaken. By the end of it he begins to help people naturally, without even thinking about it as much as he would have in the past. He helps so many people, he has basically got Phoenix's savior complex 2.0 but the healthy kind where he doesn't jump off a bridge. But... he was also actually cruel, and did send innocent people to their graves (was he really so naive to believe whichever defendant came his way was guilty?). He feigned his death disregarding other people's feelings, and while you could say he had no obligation towards Phoenix (apart from basic decency and respect towards someone who had turned his life around to save him), he still abandoned Franziska, who was still just a kid and had just discovered her father was a psychopath. She probably thought, at some point, that the apple didn't fall that far from the tree. That's it's somehow her fault as well. He may be rude and antagonistic, frank to a fault. Isn't afraid of telling stuff to your face. But he also cares about the people he loves so much, to the point he doesn't hesitate to risk his career and break the law multiple times. He may appear a pessimist but he's pretty idealistic at heart, it's quite funny that his favourite show is about an hero of justice, isn't it? Godot is... well, we don't know much about it from before his coma, but he definitely shared Mia's sentiments for helping people in their hour of need. But when he wakes from a 6-year coma he's so broken that he just pins the blame on the most absurd person to blame it on, settles on a complicated plan, and also prosecutes on that particular murder he should just confess upon. Iris was sweet, innocent, self-sacrificing. She knew absolutely nothing about the world apart from what Bikini or her sister told her. She was naive and falsely thought she could fix everything, that her sister was salvageable, that she could save Phoenix. But she still ended up lying to the person she loved and abetting a murder. That's why I love these characters so much. They're interesting and their stories make sense. People don't remain unchanged from what happens to them. People are multi-faceted and complex. You can't sum them up in a bunch of characteristics and aspect them to act on every single one of them, always, consistently. Sometimes people break. They make mistakes they regret, ...and some they don't.

#ace attorney #musings #aa musings

461 notes · View notes

eyesxxyou · 9 months

Text

Fun & Games

☆🕷️。・hobie brown x blackcat!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.3k

synopsis. you and Hobie have long been playing the game of cat and spider. you chase, you fight, you fuck, you fight again, and you two love your games. but it's truly all fun and games until you manage to get your hands on an interdimensional device.

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🐾warning: p in v sex, unprotected sex don't do that children, possessive!hobie, public sex, y/n is a real hoe and I love her for that, odd love hate relationship, clit slapping, Gwen's here very briefly, wall sex, bondage, mentions of injury, just me being horny so it's kinda horribly written, lemme know if I missed anything

"She's gotta be somewhere." Gwen sat perched on a ledge, the eyes of her mask wide and alert for any sign of the anomaly. In other words, you. You had somehow managed to get your hands on a interdimensional device of Miguel's making and have been hopping all around the multiverse causing mayhem. "You sure you have no idea where she's at? She's from your dimension after all, not to mention-"

The thing is, the devices don't show exact locations. They just tell you what dimension others are in. Leaving Gwen and Hobie hopping about right after you to put you back where you belong.

It was Hobie's fault after all. Being the Black Cat of his dimension meant you were good at sleight of hand. A single run in with you and next thing he knows his device is gone, his cock is hard, and he misses you so fucking much.

"Yeah, yeah, i's my fault or whateva." He spoke over the communicator, his eyes scanning across the streets for just a peek of that brilliant white hair of yours. "I'll keep an eye out, jus' stay where you are and don't underestimate 'er. She'll put you on ya arse before ya know it." He's gone toe to toe with you plenty of times to know that you're rather skilled in combat. And for reasons he'd also know that you're flexible.

He cut off his device, the one Miguel reluctantly gave him after laying into him over his incompetence. "You're gonna deal with this mess you've made!" He almost crushed the device in his hand from gripping it so hard as he pushed it into Hobie's chest. "You get her back to where she belongs then you're out. You're done."

Hobie honestly couldn't give less of a damn about being booted from the society. Taking orders and being a part of a team was really cramping his style. Preferred it when it was just him and his own dimension's problems.

He hopped between buildings in this dimension looking for any marker of you. Your cloud-like hair done always in wild, untamed curls that somehow manage to sit perfect around your face. You wore black leather, nice sharp spikes, claws you made yourself that left their scar against his chest as well as down his back.

Hobie liked how complicated your relationship is. How you constantly kept him on his toes, remained so inconsistent that he never got bored. One second you were on your knees, his cock weighing heavy on your pretty tongue, just narrowly missing the angel bite piercings you had with fangs in, and the next, you were trying to claw his eyes out of his face. You were batshit fucking insane and he was absolutely in love with you though, he'd never admit that.

He hoped he found you before Gwen did— it's been just a little under a month and he's been feening for you, spending his lonely nights when he doesn't have a million wounds and a few broken bones to tend to with his hand wrapped firmly around his cock and your name wetting his lips with prayer. He's fucking pussy-whipped, desperate, absolutely nuts for you.

And when he finds you (which he always does somehow), you're hopping across a rooftop and sliding down a gutter into a nearby alleyway. He follows you stealthily, lingering in the shadows as he rounds the corner and drops into the shady alley. But he finds you aren't there. He pauses, talks a moment to let his instincts take the lead.

It just took a second, a small tingle, the hairs on the back of his neck standing but he hardly had any time to react before you were on his back with your claws pressed against his throat. "Ya missed me?" You whispered in his ear with the touch of a smile in your voice.

Hobie moved quickly, pushing the both of you back until your back slammed against the jagged brick wall and your grip loosened just enough for him to pry himself out of your clawed hold. He webbed you up with your hands trapped above your head. Your goggles were already pushed up into your wild hair and your cat-like eyes gleamed at him. "I'd say you do."

Hobie reached up and pulled off his mask. “Nice to see ya too, Y/N. We can have our reunion once ya back where ya belong.”

“Never took you as the type to join a committee of interdimensional spider fascist.” You scoff, wriggling your wrist against the binding of his webs but you know all too well how strong they actually are. Many times have you been caught in his web, bent in all sorts of positions. He’s always been your favorite toy.

“No’ by choice. You did me a fava’ actually, they gave me the boot ‘cause of you.” He came close, his tall, lean stature looming over you as he removed the watch from your wrist and deactivated it. Hobie looked down at you, looking into your sultry eyes that told him you just wanted to sit on his dick then make your grand escape. You’re always dressed in leather, your shorts so tight and small it leaves hardly anything to the imagination. You were wearing those torn up, distressed tights he loved so much and that he’s definitely torn his own fair share of holes in.

“Don’t you want to know why I went to the places I did?”

“There’s a reason?” He thought it was just you fucking around, trying to cause as much mayhem as possible, begin a nice little collection of diamonds stolen from different dimensions. Your motivations were always a bit hard to decipher.

You leaned in as close as you could in the position you were stuck in and whispered to him, “All the dimensions I went to had a version of you in them. I wanted to see which one was my favorite.” It was a confession of sin just between the two of you in this dark little alleyway he had you stuck in. “Would you like me to tell you about the other yous I’ve met?” You took his stoic silence as answer enough.

“There was one with the prettiest eyes. One blue and one brown. I got to look in them while I rode his pretty face. He made me cum so hard.” Your voice was so heavy with the memory of it but you didn’t linger. “And the other one, nice, long locs. He fucked me so good my legs were shaking. Oh- and the other one made me squirt for the first time-”

Your descriptions sparked something primal in Hobie, something carnal and possessive. A part of him was aroused at the thought of your pretty little cunt he was absolutely addicted to getting ran through by different versions of himself. Maybe you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you, why else would you do something like this?

“You a lil’ whore, ya know tha’, kitty?” His hands were already at the waist of your shorts, undoing the makeshift button you had made after he broke the original one a while ago. His lips were on yours, licking and biting feverishly in attempt to get a taste of you. “Guess I gotta remind you who you belong to.” He needed to tame your pretty little pussy, domesticate it, make it purr for him.

“I don’t belong to anyone, you know that.” You murmur against his lips, shifting your hips to make it easier for him to get your shorts out of the way. He pulled them down to your knees just above your boots and shifted away from you to duck under and slot his way between your nylon-clad thighs. He trailed kisses up the length of your body as he made his way back up, shoving your torn shirt up so his lips could feel your heated skin. “I’d beg to diffa, luv. I think you know ya slutty pussy belongs to me because why else would you hop aroun’ the multiverse just to hook up wit’ me ova and ova again?” He forced your shirt up over your tits, leaving you nice and exposed, unable to do anything about it even if you wanted.

“I’ve just gotta show you tha’ the original is always the bes’.” He had no time to take his time, to worship every inch, every curve, every dimple. He wanted his cock in you, he wanted to fuck you hard, fast, and deep. He wanted to destroy that pride of yours and force you to admit that he will always be your favorite.

He knows that's just how you like it. Rough, quick, and almost animalistic with a hint of risk. You can't get off without it.

He tears a new hole in your tights right that the crotch and finds that your panties are already soaked, the vague outline of your plump pussy pressing against the fabric that clings to you like a second skin. He gets so hard at just the sight of it, so hard it becomes painful. "I's been a long fuckin' time." Hobie breathed out under his breath. "Ma favorite girl missed me I can see." He pressed the bulge of his cock against your wet, desperate cunt.

Your muscles tense and shudder uncontrollably as your lips attempt to contain a horrid little whimper. You weren't usually so sensitive, Hobie could feel your thighs clamping at his hips in an attempt to close your legs. His fingers slid past your panties and pulled them to the side just to find that your pussy was already pink and swollen, abused and misused by all the cocks you've already taken. You were so damn sensitive, your bud throbbing and engorged.

Hobie couldn't help but let out a chuckle, a smirk framing the scoff he let out. "A fuckin' slut, I tell you. You've already been so damn ran through." He slapped your pussy nice and firm and your whole body jolted with the pain and pleasure it caused and you cried out a little too loud.

"Migh' wanna be quiet. Ya don't wan' someone coming down and seeing your poor cut gettin' abused." His fingers slid between your slick folds, every part of you tender to the touch, every movement leaving your body trembling. It's pathetic how quickly he can have you and squeaking, whining, crying mess. A street cat tame by those long, slender fingers of his as he plays in your mess, a reminder of all the other hims you've had. You had been out on a conquest and somehow it's ending with you getting conquered.

It was easy for him to glide his fingers into your heat, the pad of his thumb drawing circles on your poor clit while he used his other hand to grab your chin and force you to look him in the eyes. "Can you feel tha'?' Your cunt was swallowing his digits down to the knuckle and squeezing. "Nice lil' kitty is purrin' fo' me. Think I migh' make 'er a house cat."

"Go fuck yourself." You manage to choke out between the strangled moans of your throat. Hobie chuckled and kissed you, nice and hard with his tongue against yours and his fingers playing your pussy like a fiddle. God, he was so good at what he did, knew just where your sweet spot was to have you crumbling in his hold.

He pulled back a little, both of your lips wet with saliva, and nipped at your bottom lip. His fingers pumped in and out of your trembling pussy that wept for him, your slick dripping from his knuckles. You writhed against your restraints, claws sawing at his webbing to little avail. And you knew his fingers were nothing compared to that gorgeous cock of his that fit in you so snuggly and touched places that, before him, you hadn’t even known existed.

But his fingers were so good, able to caress your walls in ways his length couldn’t. His thumb rubbed your clit ferociously, sending spiked balls of pleasure to every muscle in your body. You spasmed, back arching off the walls, eyes rolling, vision blurry. “S-stop fuckin’ with me.” You manage to spit out at him in a shaking gasp.

“But fuckin’ wit’ ya is my favorite part.” Hobie slipped his fingers from your messy hole and took it upon himself to get a taste. “Plus, i’s no’ like you show me any mercy when ya in one of ya moods. I’ve gotta point to prove here.” His hands began to undo his belt with rushed persistence.

“And what point is that?” You watch him pull himself out, the length of his cock pressed against your pelvis. Prettiest you’ve ever seen, nice and long with subtle veins and dark brown tip beading with pearls of precum that weep from his tip and roll down the underside of his shaft.

Hobie maneuvered (more like manhandled) your fame so that your legs were up over his shoulders. He spat on his fingers, used it as lube to spread down his length. “Tha’ you ‘n I both know you can’t replace me with some off brand version.”

“Oh, I’d argue they were very on brand. All had that pretty face of yours. That prettier cock.” Your words faltered a bit as he pushed into you without so much as a warning, jealousy getting the better of him. His fingers grip your thighs, body pressing you into the wall while his hips rutted against you. He fucked you like an animal, his teeth gritting, his cock brutalizing your used up cunt. And the position allowed him to sink so deep you felt him in your gut, in your throat, in your very head. He fucked the air out of your lungs but that didn’t stop your cries of pleasure.

And as pretty as they were, Hobie didn’t need the two of you being stumbled upon. He placed his palm over your mouth, kept you placid and quiet white he fucked you with intention. He was gonna claim your pussy, paint it white, make it his, let you know that no matter how hard you try the two of you will always find yourself dancing to this same song. You’d fight, you’d fuck, you’d fight again, you’d fuck again. Sometimes you were allies, sometimes you were enemies, but at all times you were lovers.

He spanked your swollen clit while he fucked you in such a brutal nature. There was no sympathy for you, no mercy, no kindness offered. Just carnality unmatched by any of your other affairs. It might be the spider venom bound to his DNA making him this way. Hobie– normal Hobie, rational Hobie– was not a jealous person, especially not towards someone who, in all cases, did not belong to him.

The emotions of it were conflicting. The mixture of jealousy and arousal at the thought of you with another version of himself because in all the ways that made him who he was on paper was, he was with you every single time. Genetically, generally, the vague outline of himself. But the experiences were different, slightly tweaked in a way, and in the way that matters you had fucked entirely different people. And that was the fun of it. What would be the point of sleeping with the same person over and over again if not for the slight differences every time.

Hobie wondered if they made you feel this way, your back arching so dramatically off the wall, your eyes going cross with pleasure as your moans are contained behind his palm. The two of you had so much shared history that even if they were better, it still wouldn't compare. He knew you like he knew many things, on a level balanced by emotion and technicality.

The two of you were never meant to be anything more than this, a quick, filthy fuck in the back alley of some random place and yet you both were sure you were soulmates in some sick twisted way. You'd both go around in these pointless circles having the most fun with never making the effort to define yourselves or restrict yourselves to something that wasn't completely and entirely you.

Your toes curled in your boots as you felt the brutality of an orgasm coming your way. It built within you, clawing to get out like you clawed through the webs. It seized you like being strangled, curled around your body, left you warm and fuzzy and delirious.

"Look a' me, luv. Look a' me with those pretty eyes of yours." The way he fixed your face forward, made you look him in the eyes. "Nice lil' pussy gonna make me cum." Your walls spasmed, hugged him, squeezed around his length, molding to every curve, every vein. If only his hand weren't over your mouth, you'd kiss his pretty lips and tell him to shut the fuck up and just fuck you, just lose himself in you.

And oh, was he losing himself. An orgasm quickly approaching on the horizon. Hobie pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes low and sultry as he removed his hand from your mouth and gripped your thighs once more. "Fuck-" Hobie gasps and shudders, his abdomen tightening with the beginnings to a climax.

"Go ahead, pretty boy. You said you have a point to prove, right? Go ahead and prove it." You watched in breathless pants as he takes his pleasure in you, comes undone for you, his fingertips pressing bruises into your supple skin. "You're my favorite, my pretty boy." You confess to him. In all versions, you were simply looking for him, something you didn't find, no matter how eerily similar they all were.

Hobie murmurs something incoherent under his breath as he cums. He's swift with pulling out, just in time to spill his hot semen all over your heat. He claimed you like he always wanted to, with the way his hands left bruises in your skin, with the way his trembling cock spread his cum all over you, how his lips claimed yours in a moment of passion.

"You can stop pretendin' to be trapped now." Hobie murmured against your lips, pulling away and running his thumb across your kiss-swollen bottom lip before making himself decent. You had long sawed your way through his webs, they never last that long. You let your arms drop. "Finally, they were startin' to hurt."

Hobie removes himself from your body, letting you take the time to get yourself together. "How much time do I have this time?" It was back to business as usual, not that either of you minded. You both enjoyed your games.

"A minute before I call my partna. Two before I start chasin' you myself." He always gave you a bit of a head start, maybe out of some soft spot he had for you. Sometimes he caught you, sometimes he didn't, it was all up to chance.

You pull your goggles out of you disheveled hair and fix them over your eyes. You lean into him, close enough that he thought you might kiss him. "I'll try not to break your nose this time, lovely." You peck his lips as a distraction as you slip your hand into the pocket of his vest and attempt to steal your stolen watch back.

Hobie's already thinking one step ahead of you. His hand grasps your wrist. "No' tha' generous. An' you've got 'bout 40 seconds lef'. Better get goin'." He's dealt with your bullshit more times than he can count. He knows what goes on in that pretty head of yourself, how you're always scheming, even against him— especially against him."

You scoff then chuckle. "Fine— c'ya 'round, Bee." You turn and rush off, grasping a gutter to leap up on the rooftop and run off.

You both love your fun and games.

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #hobie brown #atsv #spiderman #hobie brown fic #hobie brown smut #spider punk #black cat #hobie x reader

1K notes · View notes

roosterr · 9 months

Text

white flag ✹ ch 5

note: special thanks to @panicflower for inspiring me with this chapter! i was honestly a lil stuck but their suggestion helped me come up with a direction( ˘ ³˘) hope everyone enjoys!

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 3.4k

no use of y/n reader's callsign is 'stingray'

summary: simon wants to make it up to you, but he has no idea where to begin. when you start getting close to someone else, he knows he has to fix things before it's too late.

warnings: still ghost's pov, mentions of injury, jealousy reader gives ghost the cold shoulder this time, ghost is just a lil bit pathetic and very emotionally constipated

ao3

【prev】 || 【next】

simon found you in the infirmary.

he knew you hated hospitals; you tried to hide how they made your skin crawl, but he would always notice the way you'd fidget uncomfortably whenever you needed patching up after a mission. even though you more than likely didn't want to see him, his selfish heart still held out hope that he could bring you some comfort.

you're sitting on the edge of a bed, checking the bandage around your forearm when he pushes through the doors. he subtly brushes the dirt from his clothes with his free hand as he takes a step forward, the other holding the hastily collected gift behind his back. but as he cautiously approaches, his breath catches in his throat when he notices the third presence taking up the space next to you.

another sergeant, from the unit the one-four-one is working with for their current assignment. his face is familiar, but simon’s never bothered to learn his name. up until this moment, he was completely irrelevant; but now this nameless bastard was sitting beside you in the space that should he his, and he’s never wanted to punch an ally more than he does right now.

he stops in front of you, and when you lift your head to meet his eyes the pure exhaustion there sends a twinge of pain through his heart. when your friend looks up as well, he feels a surge of annoyance that he’s even here – simon came in with the intention of explaining himself to you, but with someone else lingering around you, he’s afraid he won’t be able to gather the courage.

the humiliation of giving you the makeshift gift he's still got hidden behind his back in front of this stranger would be far too much.

"we need to talk." his voice is harder than he would like, but the other set of eyes on him puts him on edge. he goes to take a small step closer to you, but he freezes when you hold up your uninjured hand to stop him.

"don't," you reply, tearing your red-rimmed eyes away from him as you push yourself to stand up. your shoulders sag and you cradle your bandaged arm close to your abdomen. "i'm tired, ghost."

he grimaces under his mask, watching helplessly as you take your jacket from the waiting hands of your companion – who stands up too, placing his hand on your shoulder with a small smile directed at you that makes simon want to strangle him.

then the idiot turns to him, and regards him with a similar polite smile. "i'm sure it can wait 'till tomorrow, sir." he says, gesturing for you to move with him as he takes a step around simon.

he doesn't bother to acknowledge the sergeant though, keeping his gaze focused solely on you.

"i know, i just–" he begins, raising his free arm to block your path – and perhaps separate you from the outsider – but the way you flinch away from him ever so slightly has his heart breaking all over again. "what i said was uncalled for."

you sigh deeply and drop your gaze to the floor. "then why did you say it?" your frustration is obvious, but he can't come up with a response in time. you click your tongue, before continuing, "i don't wanna do this right now."

"c'mon, man," the spare interjects, pushing his arm down and out of your way. simon finally meets his eyes then, glaring at him with such intensity from behind the balaclava he can see how thickly he swallows. "uh– sir." he corrects, quickly retracting his hand from simon's arm and retreating his gaze to you.

simon resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead turning them back to you as well. "sting." he mumbles, a weak plea for you to listen, but you offer no reaction.

your eyes dart to him and away again as you brush past him with a stone cold expression on your face. he would've believed it, had it not been for the tremble in your lower lip that gave away what you really felt.

for a moment he says frozen in place, watching your back as you exit the infirmary with your irritating companion. he didn't know what to do, now you were the one running away from him. is this how you always felt around him?

before the infirmary door can swing shut he follows you both out into the hallway, keeping pace with you but not daring to walk beside you. the minimal distance between you and the sergeant has his blood boiling, but he restrains his annoyance for your sake. he hears you sigh as his heavy footsteps fall behind your own, but you refuse to give him any more of your attention.

it's pathetic, he thinks to himself, the way he's following you around like a lost puppy, but he can't bring himself to be ashamed. he wants your attention, and he'll do anything to get it.

when you get out into the cold night air, instead of heading towards the main gate like he expected you to, you take a right after the sergeant, towards the car park. his gets a heavy feeling in his stomach, but he follows anyway. your car was still parked outside his house, unmoved since you'd left.

he still follows as you make your way towards one of the few cars left in the space. you say something to the sergeant, too low for simon to hear, and he nods before going ahead to his car.

"ghost," your tone is unimpressed as you turn around to him, arms crossed over your chest. "what are you doing?"

he blinks. "we're goin' the same way." he mutters, his hand squeezing the fist wrapped tightly around his gift that was still hidden behind his back.

"anderson's giving me a lift." you reply flatly.

"oh." his stomach sinks unbearably. he had naively hoped that you'd walk with him, and he'd finally get the chance to talk to you. "...right."

"...right."

you take a step back, going to walk away again, but before you can move he calls out to you. "sting."

you stop and look at him, brows raised expectantly.

in one of his gloved hands, he holds out a handful of delicate white flowers to you. you look at them, and then back up to him with a surprised blink.

"...are those from the flowerbeds out front?" you ask, fixing him with a sceptical expression. he shifts his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other under your scrutiny.

"yeah." he murmurs, "you said you liked 'em."

he hoped you wouldn't comment on the fact that you'd said that during your first week on the taskforce. a moment of tension passes before you gently take the flowers from his hand.

"i did." you say, brushing your fingers over the slightly squashed petals. simon breaths a silent sigh of relief that you didn't outright reject his gesture.

you don't say anything more, leaving the two of you in another uncomfortable pause, but once again, he can't think of anything to say quickly enough. so with another low sigh, you turn on your heel and close the short distance between you and anderson's car.

his arm twitches, a restrained attempt to reach out for you, to ask you to stay, but the door slams shut without you sparing another glance in his direction.

simon can only watch as the taillights disappear into the night, taking you along with them and out of his reach, and leaving him alone in the desolate car park.

"fuuuuck." he growls, tightly pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. why would you want to get into the car of someone you've only known for a few days? even if you were angry with him, you couldn't trust anderson more than your own lieutenant. his hands curl into fists at his sides at the thought that you might actually prefer that prick over him.

with nothing left to do, he begins the lonely walk home. it always manages to catch him off guard, how much colder the world seemed to be when you weren't around.

by the time he’s inside and locked the door behind him, the lights are all off and the door to your room is firmly shut. he considers knocking, but out of fear of disturbing you he decides against it – he’d bothered you enough for one day.

as he lays in bed and retreats into his usual fantasy of you, like he’s done countless times before, there's something different plaguing his mind. your smile, something usually so comforting to him, is directed to someone else.

a striking pain blooms in his chest, spreading to his limbs and his head until his whole body aches with the feeling of you, smiling warmly and holding the hand of someone other than him; he focuses his mind, concentrating on the faceless silhouette until the shadows morph into features he recognises.

anderson.

✹✹✹

he doesn't see you the next morning. you're gone by the time he wakes up, along with your car. it's surprising that he didn't hear you leave; usually he wakes at smallest of sounds, but you seemed to have the unique ability to sneak up on him.

going through his morning routine felt more like a chore than it ever had before, especially the trek back to base with only the silence of the early morning to keep him company. not even the birds sing for him today.

when he finally trudges into the rec room almost forty minutes after leaving home, he finds gaz and soap sitting on the old sofas, playing some card game on the coffee table. he considers turning back around and hiding in his office all day, but he’s spotted before he can escape.

"rise 'n shine, l.t." soap calls, "c'mon, i'll deal ya in."

with a poorly disguised roll of his eyes, he drags his feet over to where they're sitting and drops his weight onto the armchair. he doesn't even know what game they're playing when he's given a hand, but his mind is elsewhere anyway.

"you alright, mate?" gaz's question snaps him out of his daze, but he doesn't get to reply before the door is thrown open and a fourth presence enters the room.

"morning!" anderson's overly enthusiastic voice bounces off the walls of the rec room. simon's head throbs. "anyone seen stingray?" he approaches them as he asks, crossing the distance with a gait that just feels annoying.

gaz and soap look up from their cards at his question, sharing a quick look between them that goes completely over anderson's head.

"they're on inventory, probably in the storeroom." gaz responds, offering him a polite, downturned smile, before looking back and meeting ghost's deadpan gaze.

at least he wasn't the only one who hated anderson's guts.

"perfect, thanks mate!" anderson grins, about to rush back out the way he came, but ghost speaks up before he can get too far.

"not so fast, sergeant." he growls, dropping his cards onto the coffee table and standing up to his full height. he can see soap and gaz share another look out of the corner of his eye, but his gaze stays locked onto anderson like a predator on its prey.

anderson pauses, slowly turning on his heel to face the lieutenant again as he stalks forward. ghost feels a sense of satisfaction at the way he has to crane his neck upwards to look him in the eye, his massive frame towering over the sergeant in an almost comical way.

"yes, sir?" anderson’s voice is strained as he responds, his shoulders noticeably tighter than a moment ago.

"where's your report from yesterday?" ghost leans just slightly forward, crowding his personal space. he sees anderson's gaze flicker to the others behind him, but he knows they're not about to offer their help.

"uh, i filed it first thing this morning," he answers, rocking backwards on his heels. "why?"

ghost sneers under his mask. "well, our captain needs a copy too."

"but my commander's already left, i can't get it back…" anderson’s brows pull together, confusion evident in his words.

"better get writin' then, hadn't you?" ghost doesn't even try to hide the smugness in his voice this time, take more pleasure in ruining anderson's day than he probably should.

"...yes sir." anderson nods, his gaze dropping to the floor as ghost moves past him. he makes sure to nudge his shoulder as he goes, catching anderson off guard and causing him to stumble slightly.

the three sergeants watch as he disappears through the door, each breathing a sigh of relief once they're sure he's gone. ghost's temper was tough to be on the receiving end of, and his bad mood always seemed to rub off on those around him.

"wow..." anderson grumbles, a bitter look on his face as he approaches the others again. "who pissed in his cornflakes?"

gaz and soap do their best not to acknowledge him, instead going back to their card game as if he wasn't there. unfortunately, anderson either doesn't pick up on it, or he just doesn't care, because he hangs around despite being blatantly ignored.

"reckon he's still in the doghouse with sting?" gaz asks, though the answer is obvious. anderson sits down beside him, much to gaz's chagrin, but he takes no notice of his questioning gaze.

"och, no doubt about that." soap huffs.

"so they're together?" anderson asks, tilting his head slightly with a frown. "i was gonna make a move, but i know they live together, so…"

gaz meets his eyes with a frown of his own. "well…" he looks at soap from the corner of his eye, who has a similar deer-in-headlights expression. "...not necessarily,"

"it's… complicated." soap adds, trying to hide the panic on his face with a begrudging smile that ends up more like a grimace.

"oh, so stingray's available, is what i'm hearing." he punctuated his words with an irritating wiggle of his eyebrows.

gaz and soap share another wide-eyed look.

"i don't know if–"

"now hold on–"

anderson pays their protests no mind however, hurrying to the door with a call of, "sorry lads, cant hang about!" as he leaves.

as soon as the door swings shut behind him, soap lets out a frustrated groan. "good goin' mate…" he grumbles, turning to gaz with a raised brow.

"...don't tell ghost," gaz mutters with a regretful expression decorating his face.

✹✹✹

true to gaz's word, when simon slips through the door to the storeroom you're there, clipboard in hand and quietly going through the stock.

you haven't noticed him yet, so he takes a moment to simply observe you as you work. although in reality it's only been a few days, it could've been weeks since he last saw you and he wouldn't be able to tell the difference. time moved so slow while you were gone it felt like it was dragging specifically to punish him.

it's only as he stands there watching you that he realises he has no idea what he's actually going to say to you, but it was too late to back out now; he was here, and he wasn't sure when he'd next get a moment alone with you, he had to try.

"sting–"

"shit!"

you jump, your clipboard slipping from your hands and clattering to the floor. your hand presses over your heart as you whip around to face him.

"don't fucking do that, you scared the shit out of me." you shoot him a glare and reach down to pick up your clipboard while simon can only stand there like an idiot, his mind desperately racing to come up with something to say.

"i, uh– just wanted to talk." he mutters, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. you sigh lightly and look down to the documents you'd been writing.

"okay, go on then." you gesture for him to speak, and turn back around to the shelves to carry on with your duties.

"well– i.. i shouldn't've said what i said," he begins, following after you as you move along the shelves and continue to write. the way you disregard his presence throws him off – he was so used to having your undivided attention it was strange to lose it.

"we've established that."

"and i regret it," he continues, getting closer again, but you still don't look at him. his voice is significantly weaker than when he began, your ice cold demeanour effecting what little confidence had had going into this. "i just… i don't know what to do."

at that, you lower your clipboard and gaze pointedly into the space in front of you, lips pursed with obvious anger. when you finally face him, the incredulous look on your face has him regretting having said anything, despite not understanding where your fury came from.

"you don't know what to do?" you laugh, but it's dry and humourless. "that's priceless, lieutenant, honestly."

"why? just–"

he's interrupted for the second time that morning by the door opening to reveal anderson, that infuriating grin plastered onto his face.

"you in here, sting?" he calls, eyes scanning the room before landing on the two of you near the back wall. "oh. lieutenant ghost…" the grin falls from his face and the way he stands up a little straighter doesn’t go unnoticed.

simon quietly groans to himself, pouring every ounce of malice he has into the way he glowers at the sergeant. he was so tempted to punch this prick it took an unbelievable amount of restraint not to.

"thought i told you to write that report." he seethes, turning his body to face anderson while simultaneously putting himself between you and him.

"well, i'm getting to it, but–"

"no buts, sergeant." he interrupts, voice dangerously low. "i gave you an order; do it."

"sir, i really don't think it's necess–"

"maybe you'd like to tell captain price why he can't sign off on the debrief?" his jaw aches from how hard he's clenching it, and he's sure his fingernails would've drawn blood had he not been wearing gloves.

"...no, sir." anderson mutters, his demeanour something akin to a scolded child.

"then you'd better fuck off, hadn't you?" ghost spits, gesturing sharply with one hand towards the door.

"y-yes sir…" anderson stutters, backing out of the doorway with a quick, concerned look to you over ghost's shoulder before he disappears around the corner.

now that it's just the two of you, simon turns back to you with a much softer look in his eyes, only to be met with a glare from you that rivals one of his own.

"don't be such a dickhead." you hiss, turning sharply away from him again and going back to writing on your clipboard.

simon scoffs. "you're seriously gonna defend that bellend?" he asks, throwing his hands out to the sides and leaning to catch your eye again.

"you don't even know him." you turn more away from him to avoid his searching gaze, your writing getting steadily more aggressive the more he tries to capture your attention.

"i know enough to know that he's–"

"just stop!" you shout, finally turning to face him with a venomous glare. the tension between you is palpable, it makes his skin crawl, but he doesn't dare move. "i don't wanna hear it! if all you're gonna do is bitch about my friends, then you can leave."

simon's breath falters when you turn your back on him again, dragging a heavy hand over your face as you do. "wait– that's not–"

"just piss off, ghost!" you cry, "please!"

your plea rings through the empty room, echoing in simon's ribcage and embedding itself like a thorn in his heart. he can't see your face, for which he's actually grateful; if he saw you cry again he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it.

he waits in silence for you to say something, anything more, but you refuse to look at him, shoulders hunched and clipboard held so tightly it was at risk of snapping.

without another word, he drags his feet over to the door, looking back over his shoulder to you as he pauses in the threshold. you’re still standing exactly where he left you, back turned and completely unmoving save for the uneven rise and fall of your shoulders.

"i'll… see you at home, yeah?" he mutters, his small tone not at all befitting of a soldier as imposing as him.

you don't respond.

taglist p1: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @mockerycrow , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicy , @guiltgoreglory , @postmodernrevolutionist , @untoldshortsofthefandoms , @delilah-grimes , @sunflowerqueen1416 , @luvssemma , @ghostslittlegf , @imonmykneessir , @kenz-ee , @eistro-phobia , @rzmarona ,

@alanalanalanalanalanna , @cathnoneofyourbusiness , @madsothree , @geisterfvhrer , @lazyninjaphilosopher , @koi-feish , @chaoticgoblindev , @clear-your-mind-and-dream , @lesterous , @glitterypirateduck , @slu77ym4nw415ts , @stateofcatatonia , @rivalriotrenegade , @yoichiislovie , @nirvanaaaonly , @batmanunicorns523 , @sapientiia , @thesecretwriter , @susanmukami , @stars-andfreckles , @spya1 , @tunaa-luvchrm

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #roosterr writes

1K notes · View notes

zeezelweazel · 2 months

Note

Could you write a bottom Leah smut where they are long-distance and meet each other again during national duty Leah is desperate so R takes her to the showers/a random room or Smth and she has to be quiet. 💕

Leah Williamson| Together at last|

______________________________________

So sad Leah has had yet another injury :(

I've gotten so many requests for bottom leah I can't wait to get through them all (I'm debating on writing a lia fic as well but idk) sorry this one wasn't really proof read

TW: semi public sex, fingering, degradation

____________________________________________________

You love camp. It's always great to get close with the girls, spend time with them while doing the thing you love most, playing football.

Undoubtedly the one thing you like the most about camp is that you get to be with Leah. Your captain and girlfriend that you adore so much but so rarely get to see. With Leah playing in England for Arsenal and you playing in Spain for Barcelona you don't get to see eachother very often. Which only meant that when you did get to see eachother you were very touchy. The entire team teased you for your clinginess but you wouldn't trade these camps for the world.

Your teammates, fortunately, didn't exactly know the extent of your clinginess either. The moment Leah looks at you, you can see it clearly in her deep blue eyes, the absolute need for you to wreck her. Which is something you can't do during camp but that doesn't mean you'll leave your loving girlfriend needy.

You're always in the mood for her, so when Leah tries to drag you away to the showers you fail to contain the knowing smirk spreading across your face. You've been watching Leah for quite a while now and the way the blonde was bitting her lips and squirming around in her cubby bench gave it all away. Leah isn't scared to drag you in a random room in the training facilities and have you fuck her there. You've done it a million times now. Usually she prefers having you all for herself but right now she needs you.

You both quickly get rid of your clothes and jump on one of the shower stalls. Your giggles are interrupted by the water falling down on your naked bodies. Leah sighs and rolls her shoulders, finally feeling her tense muscles relax. You take the opportunity to slide in behind her and put your hands on her sides. Leah hums appreciatively when you start moving them up and down her body with your fingers brushing her breasts just enough for Leah to remember what you're here to do. The blonde gasps when your fingers drop lower and softly tease her inner thighs only to climb higher once again.

Before Leah can react you move your hands up and grab her tits, squeezing the tender flesh harshly. Leah's whine turned into a yelp when you pinched her nipples and you chuckled at how desperate she was already with her knees buckling and her head thrown back at your shoulder.

"Are you wet for me baby?"

Leah chokes on a whimper when you answer your own question by running one of your fingers through her wet folds. The running water does nothing to mask how her juices stick on your fingers. You present your digits to Leah who immediately takes them in her mouth and sucks them clean. You feel her moans vibrating on your fingers when she tastes herself on you. You don't waste any time before plunging two fingers in her wet cunt and Leah moans, loud and high pitched as if you two aren't fucking on public showers.

"Keep your fucking mouth shut you slut."

Leah brings her hands up and grips your biceps while you continue moving your fingers rapidly in and out of her. She bites her bottom lip hard, desperate to keep the noises to a minimum. You smirked, knowing exactly how loud Leah gets you're sure she's not going to be quiet for much longer.

You decided to take advantage of the milky skin exposed and you leaned in to suck and kiss along the length of her neck. Leah's head spins with all the pleasure but it's not enough to sent her over the edge.

The captain starts grinding her hips against your hand and when the palm of it hits her clit delightfully Leah lets a loud whine escape her throat. Your reaction is instantaneous, your hand stills inside her and the other one came down against her ass with a loud smack. Leah gasped and squirmed when your hand made contact with her ass once more. You chuckled before gripping her head and twisting it so she looks directly in your eyes.

"Do you want everyone to know that you're a whore?" Leah squeals when you pinch her clit harshly. She tried to squirm out of your hold but you were stronger, your hands keeping her pressed firmly against you. Leah secretly loves disobeying you just to rile you up so you fuck her so good she can't walk the next day.

You scoffed when Leah clenched around your fingers and started moving them again. This time you decided to help her by angling your hand just right. With your fingers hitting her soft spot repeatedly and your palm grinding against her throbbing clit, Leah was anything but quiet. Moans and whines left her mouth completely uncontrollably and you were sure that if anyone walked outside of the showers they'd hear your girlfriend being absolutely wrecked by you.

"What if one of the girls is outside right now huh? How do you think they'd react to their captain being a fucking slut?" Leah moaned louder and grinned in delight. The fact that she was enjoying this made your head fuzzy. The thought that your girlfriend was getting off at the prospect that there might be someone listening to her being fucked was making your own stomach pool with heat.

"Gods I'm close! Please, harder!" You chuckled once more and removed your hands from Leah completely. Before the blonde could start begging you pushed her against the wall so that you two are now face to face and you finally kissed her. Your tongue made way into her mouth and you both groaned when your tongues brushed against eachother Leah took your hands in hers and led them to where she needs it most.

You slipped two fingers inside her wet hole and with your thumb you rubbed her clit. All of Leah's whimpers and moans were swallowed by your mouth while your fingers pushed her closer to the edge. Leah's thighs clamped down around your hand and you knew she was close.

Leah comes soon after with a silent scream but your hands continue their shallow and strong thrusts. When Leah comes down from her high you are already busy with lathering your hair. She smiles and wraps her arms around you.

"Round two when we get back to the hotel?"

____________________________________________________

#wlw #female reader #smut #woso x reader #bottom character #dom reader #sub character #woso #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso smut #woso imagine #leah williamson smut #leah williamson imagine #arsenal wfc imagine #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal x reader

471 notes · View notes

hyperfixiation-station · 3 months

Text

Welcome Home

Based off this post by @simon-rileys :))

Pairing: GhostxReader

Summary: Picking Ghost up from the airport after 3 month long mission with your 4-year-old daughter. What could possibly go wrong?

I did write this on my phone, so please please please let me know if there are any errors. And, as always, no beta!

"Layla!" You say sternly, "stop running around, you're going to get hurt." Your 4-year-old daughter completely ignores you, just giggles and keeps running in circles around the baggage claim.

You sigh and shake your head, grinning ruefully. You can't blame her for her excitement. After all, she's going to see her dad after 3 longs months away. You'd be running around too if your body could manage it. Your heart rate quickens in anticipation at the thought, and you bounce up and down for a moment before getting winded and going back to monitoring Layla.

You watch her little braids with pink bows at the end flop up and down as she runs, zig zagging every which way. Oh well. As long as she is in your sights you can't get too upset. You shake your head as she squeals again, barely dodging an old man as she makes another lap, her chubby little legs never running out of energy

Where she gets it from, you'll never know. You certainly don't have that much energy. Especially not now. You laugh to yourself, looking down at where the small but obvious bulge in your stomach is, the sign of life that you have so carefully hidden with one of Simon's hoodies. Your hand strays to your pocket to touch the ultrasound photos, the ones you got a week ago when you went to find out the gender. You run your finger nervously along the edge of the photos, equal parts excited and anxious to tell Simon you are pregnant again.

You still remember telling him when you were pregnant with Layla. He'd been home at the time, and you had been absolutely terrified. You weren't even married at the time, and had never spoken about wanting kids. You almost had a breakdown when you handed him the positive pregnancy test and he just stared at it in silence. That was, until he looked up at you with a genuine smile and tears in his eyes and asked you to marry him. He didn't even have a ring.

Distantly you hear your daughter shriek, snapping you out of the memory. Your head shoots up, eyes wide and searching for her little form. You rake your eyes over the room, but you see no sign of a brunette in a little pink dress.

"Layla!" You cry, hurrying towards where you heard her voice, at the junction where the wrong terminal meets the baggage claim, "Layla, stay where I can see you!" She doesn't respond, and your heart rate picks up as you start to list off the worst-case scenarios.

"Layla!"

Ghost steps off the escalator, lips twitching under his mask. He had gone the roundabout way, take an extra 15 minutes to walk all the way to the other terminal, just so he could surprise his girls.

Gods he can't wait to see them. Yes, 3 months was really not that long compared to some of his other deployments, but to him, anytime spent away from his family felt like torture.

He never thought he would end up like this, a wife and a kid and a figurative white picket fence. It had always been in the cards for him to die alone. Or at least, he thought it was. And then you forced your way into his life, gave him something to fight for, gave him something worth living for. And gods how he loved you.

He hears a familiar giggle and freezes, snapping out of his reverie. He trains his eyes on the end of the hall, watching the crowd for you and Layla. Sure enough, a little pink ball of destruction comes hurtling around the corner, running full-speed for him. He drops his duffle bag to the ground, and waits for you to show, brow furrowing when you don't follow behind her.

He doesn't have time to dwell on it though, as his daughter appears before him in all her pink, glittery glory.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" She shrieks, launching herself at him. He wraps his arms around her, and hold her tight to his chest inhaling deeply. He can feel her small shoulders shaking, can hear her sniffing, can feel her tears on his neck. Guilt overwhelms him for a moment, self-hatred overpowering him for making her cry. Its gone in an instant, his frown vanishing as Layla places a sloppy kiss on his eyebrow, his cheeks are still covered by a mask.

"Daddy!" She squeals again, burrowing her face in his chest. "I mithed you!" Tears prick his eyes at the sound of her voice. He forgot how much he missed her adorable little lisp.

"I missed y' too, baby girl." He presses his forhead to hers for a moment before looking up, his eyes scanning the hallway for you, frowning again when your still not in sight. "Wh're's y'r mother?"

"She was being thlow tho I lef' her." She informs him, grinning happily as she plays with his dog tags, her head resting against his shoulder. He grins, closing his eyes for a moment as he savors the feeling of his daughter in his arms.

"She's slow, huh?" Ghost huffs, shaking his head at his daughter's antics, "well then le's go meet 'er."

Layla grabs at his face, shaking her head rapidly, looking a serious as an over-excited 4-year-old can manage.

"She has an 'uprise for you." She informs him solemnly. He tries nto to laugh, knowing shes trying to be very serious, but fails. She frowns, squeezing his face with her chubby little hands.

"I'th no' funny." She says crossly, " Mommy 'as an 'uprise for you."

"A surprise?"

"Yeth." She looks around, eyeing the strangers in the terminal before leaning next to his ear, "I'm not appothed t' thay nothin', but-" she breaks off into peals of laughter as Ghost covers her mouth with his free hand.

"If mommy says you're not supposed t', then y'r not sup-" He pauses, hearing your frantic voice echoing from around the corner, "y' didn't tell y'r mother where y' were goin', did ya now baby girl?"

She at least has the decency to look ashamed, hiding her face in his jacket as she shakes her head. He laughs softly and shifts, bending to pick up his duffle bag with his free arm. His daughter clings to his neck, her head buried in his chest as he moves down the hallway, heading toward your panicky voice.

"Layla where did yo-"

"I've got 'er luv, dontcha worry." You freeze in your tracks as Simon rounds the corner, your daughter in his arms. You stare at him wide-eyed, drinking in the sight of him af6er so many months apart. He's in a hoodie and jeans, a black mask covering the lower portion of his face. His dogs tags are out, Layla twirling them in her fingers. He looks exhausted and scruffy, his clothes dirty and torn, but you could care less. Just the sight of him alive and well is enough to make you cry.

He drops his bag to the ground and kicks it out of the way, opening his free arm to you. Tears well in your eyes as you launch yourself at him, wrapping you arms around him and Layla. His arm wraps around you and yoi feel him lean bacm, pulling you slightly off the ground, gently swinging you side to side before setting you down.

You stand in his embrace for a minute, face pressed into his side, savoring the feeling of being in his arms again. Your shoulders begin to shake, tears slipping from your eyes as you inhale deeply, the scent of him like manna to your soul. You let out a small sob and tighten your grip, digging your fingers into his side. You stand like that for a few minutes, a little family reunion in the middle fo the hallway, you sobbing silently while Simon rests his chin on your head, Layla's heel digging into your ribs. You pull back a moment later, rubbing a hand across your eyes as you inhale shakily.

"I missed you Si'." You laugh wetly, looking up at him. He doesn't say anything, just grabs you and pulls you in again, your head resting on his chest. Your daughter's chubby hand moves to rest on your head, her fingers twisting your hair into painful knots. You don't notice, to focused on trying not to cry again.

"I missed y' too luv." He murmurs after a minute, his chest rumbling beneath your forehead. He holds you for a few more seconds before stepping back, his eyes suspiciously shiny. "Now Layla says y' have a surprise f'r me?"

"That I do, dove." You sniff, rubbing your nose with the the back of your hand. You look down, biting your lip nervously as you take another step back. You slip your hand into your pocket, fingers closing around the little bundle of photos.

"Y'gonna expla-" His voice trails off as you pull the pictures from your pocket, handing them out to him. You watch as he gently sets Layla down and takes a slow step forward, his movements almost reverent. He takes the photos from your waiting hand, his eyes growing wet as he studies the photos of the 4 month old baby you have growing inside you. He can't read them, but he knows what they represent. After all, he has one of Layla's ultrasound photos in the pocket of his vest.

"Is this-are you…"

"Yes." You laugh, your voice thick, "we're having a baby boy. In April."

He laughs, a rare, genuine one, and sweeps you up in his arms, spinning you around in a circle. He sets you back down but doesn't let go. His hands slide down to your waist as he leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His eyes close as your arms wrap around his neck, and he exhales shakily, the warm air making your eyes flutter. You stand like that for what feels like ages, forehead-to-forehead, just breathing in the other's presence.

"Mommy!" You are brought back to the real world by your daughter, who is standing with her hand on her hips and glaring at you, "Th'op hogging daddy to yourthelf! I wanna turn!"

You chortle softly, stepping back from Simon. He huffs and shakes his head, giving you a very 'she gets this from you' type look. He scoops her up as she squeals, positioning her on his hip. He crouches and grabs his bag, hoisting it on his shoulder before grabbing your hand amd interlacing fingers. You step forward, tugging him behind you as you lead him out of the airport and back home.

"Was it a good surprise?" You murmur as you walk to the car.

"Very, luv."

"I'm glad. How would you feel if I tell you we're having twins?"

So here it is, a month later than promised @simon-rileys @dwkfan , sorry 'bout that

Lemme know what you think :)

#look at me #writing something nice for once #enjoy before i sucker punch yall im the guts again #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader #no beta we die like men #cod #fluff #ghostfluff #ghost cod #call of duty x reader #call of duty #screaming crying throwing up #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley

553 notes · View notes

moondirti · 1 year

Note

👉🏼👈🏼 any cute headcanons for König? And maybe some lewd..? I’m falling hard for this mountain aaaaaa

hi babe! I'm quite new to König so forgive me if this is a little rough. but i agree, he's very sexy miscellaneous könig headcanons:

SFW

a guaranteed ginger, fully freckled and all. his skin is extremely sensitive to the sun too, given he wears the sniper mask most of the time. he got a bad sunburn once and didn't really... know how to properly take care of it, just picked and peeled at the skin until it got extremely irritated, then took a cold shower to ease the heat.

because, he is a shower man. i mean, there isn't much of an option for frequent luxurious soaks in the military, but even when deployed, he doesn't fit into most bathtubs. with the water filled all the way, his knees and half his torso still stick out. (that is to say, he's taller than most shower heads too. his neck aches from crouching too long so they're limited to 5 minutes at the most).

really long eyelashes. all his hair grows out really quick, actually. when he first joined the GAF, he tried to make an effort to groom himself regularly. eventually, though, it just got too tedious. he still trims his own hair on occasion, but not until it curls around his ears and proves to impede his vision during missions.

the fact that he can't sit still is already canon, but i imagine König's grip is especially jittery. he often fumbles and drops ammunition while reloading; everyone thinks it's because his hands are too big to properly handle the bullets, but really, it's the adrenaline-fuelled tremor that constantly courses through him. it proves to be disastrous when he's trying to aim and shoots his gun off prematurely, his uncontrollable trigger finger rendering it impossible to actually hover over the trip.

NSFW

König's got three sweet spots. - His ear (all of it, but mostly the earlobe) - bite him there or blow air on the shell and he'll be a whimpering mess in less than a minute. - His abdomen, which can't handle the gentle graze of your nails down the sides - it assures that he erupt into gooseflesh every time. - Most of all, his balls. Whenever you go down on him, he'd rather you suckle the heavy weights and jack him off instead of vice versa. In fact, during one of your first times together, you cupped them through his pants and he creamed himself.

Doesn't have any specific names he calls you in bed. He tends to lose himself in the pleasure and becomes an incoherent mess; the only things out of his mouth are usually screeching pleas and breathless groans.

Was actually insecure about his size before he met you. Not to say he was a virgin, or small in any sense of the word - König just became accustomed to the borderline abnormal sizes present in animated porn. It only took three cases of 'fuck, it literally doesn't fit inside- oh my god. Oh my god, you're practically bulging out of me' for him to realise that he's way above average.

6K notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 7 months

Note

Okay! Please take your time writing this I understand if it doesn’t make sense! 🫶🏾!!

So I love over caring reader she’s adorable! And I was wondering if you could do something like she’s not an agents and she’s just Aaron’s cute little girlfriend!

And Aaron Comes over to check on her every night when he gets off of work at the same time. It’s pretty late and a very common time for violent crimes to happen! And since Aaron comes to see her at the exact same time she just figured. “I’m just gonna leave the door unlocked for him!” Not knowing how much danger that could put her in.

So when Aaron knocks on the door expecting her to come over and open it like she usually does. It’s rubs him the wrong way when you yell “It’s open Aaron!” And how does he an fbi agent who deals with Incidents like this all the time when people just leave the door open and then boom dead react to this?

Love you and your writing!!

~sincerely silk 🤍🫶🏾✨

Aaron feels bad knocking on your door past midnight, but he'd given his spare key to your place to Jessica while he was away on business, and he hasn't seen her since he landed. He'd gone straight to your apartment after hearing that Jack was already asleep, safely tucked away in Jess's spare room, and now he stands outside your door with his go-bag and a box of pizza he's planning on sharing with you.

He loves his son more than anything, but he'll let the boy stay with his aunt for one more night if it means he gets you to himself.

He knocks lightly, used to pounding on the door much harsher to speak to barricaded unsubs. You hear him even if he's not breaking it down, and Aaron feels his stomach drop clear to his feet when you call back with a muffled shout, "It's open!"

It's open.

Your door is unlocked.

Your voice sounds like it's coming from your bedroom, down the hallway and out of view of the entryway. You'd been in your bed for god knows how long past midnight with your door unlocked, and you hadn't even verified his identity before announcing that you were completely vulnerable.

All of a sudden the heated weight of the pizza box in his hands makes his stomach turn. He opens the door, hating how little resistance he's met with, and deposits his things weakly on the couch. He places the pizza on the coffee table and makes a point to lock both of the latches on your door, even going as far as to jiggle the handle once it's closed to make sure it doesn't budge.

It doesn't, but maybe he'll check one more time before sleeping, just in case.

He starts down the hallway and each step he takes feels leaden. Your hallway is dark, and your door is mostly shut- god, you'd have no idea that someone was in your apartment until it was too late.

When he pushes open the door to your bedroom you're waiting for him with an eager grin, but at the grave, stony frown on his face, you slump slightly.

"Aaron," You hum cautiously, "Are you alright? Tough case?"

"You left the door open." He states, his voice purposefully controlled.

You nod slowly, "Yeah, you don't have your key, do you? Jess said she's still got it at her place."

"You can't leave the door open." Aaron forgoes any acknowledgement of your reasoning, stomach still churning uncomfortably.

"It was just for a little bit," You insist, "Only when I saw you were coming here from the airport."

"You can't leave the door open." Aaron repeats, sounding like a broken record. Over and over and over again he sees flashes of darkness and shadow in his mind, a grey mask, a haunting pair of eyes, a dead woman on the ground.

It's something he's seen before, something he's all-too-familiar with, and he thinks his nausea might overtake him if he doesn't shut his brain down first.

"I'm okay." You seem to settle into the realization that you're not getting out of this one, and you stand from the bed to approach him, "I'm sorry, Aaron. I didn't think about it. You're right, I- I shouldn't have left the door open. I won't anymore. I'll keep it locked, I promise."

"You can't-" He tries again, but his voice quavers slightly, and you rush to take his hands.

"I won't." You promise, kissing the backs of his large hands while you squeeze them in your own smaller ones, "I won't, Aaron. I promise. I'll lock it. I'm okay, I'll lock it."

He steadies himself while you hold his hands, letting you squeeze life back into him where it had threatened to leave him to rot in his own trauma. When he feels like taking a break won't kill him, he drags oxygen into his lungs, blinking away a tear in his left eye, "There's pizza on the counter."

You smile sadly, nodding and using your intertwined hands to pull him towards the kitchen. You sit him at the counter and serve him two slices on a paper plate, and he watches wearily as you flick the lights on in the entryway and survey the locks.

"I locked them." He tells you, pizza still on its plate and not anywhere near his mouth. He's not sure he's hungry quite yet, but the heat radiating off of the slices is nice on his hands.

"Thank you, Aaron. And I will, too," You promise, jiggling the door handle just as he had done, and nodding to yourself when it doesn't budge.

"Please do." He begs, trying to make it sound much stronger than it is.

"Eat your pizza," You pad back into the kitchen, sitting beside him at the next stool over. You rub a hand over his tense back as he sits, and he lets himself relax into the feeling of your touch, your warmth, your life.

When he finally raises a slice to his mouth you lean forwards to bite off the edge of the crust. You give him a guilty smile as you chew, but he can't stop a grin of his own from growing around his mouthful of cheesy bread. He thinks he might let you devour the whole pie if you wanted to; anything so long as you're alive.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

998 notes · View notes