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sprout-fics · 6 months

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October has a Friday the 13…

Scary movie night with Fix and Ghost?

Scream (Simon Ghost Riley x Reader)

(This is so late my deepest apologies. Coming in at the very last moment with a Halloween special)

Rating: M Wordcount: 2.2k Tags: Domesticity, Established relationship, Bickering, Cuddling, Sleeping together, Pranks, Practical Jokes, Sexual tension Warnings: Death by garage door, Blood mention A/N: Written for my OC Fix, but can be read as a standalone

“No, no, no don’t go in the house with the serial killer you stupid girl-”

The TV flickers brightly in the dark room you and Ghost are relaxing in. Luminance dances off the walls and your wide eyes as you sit transfixed at the grisly scene about to occur on the screen. Your legs are propped up on Simon’s lap, where he sprawls comfortably with his legs wide and an arm thrown over the back of the couch. His other hand rests on your thigh with warm familiarity, a simple touch that somehow conveys so much.

It’s a quiet evening, one spent in mutual company in the flat you’ve both recently come to call home. While originally his, he’d gradually acquired to your presence here, allowing you to move in your few belongings from the barracks into the previously sparse space. When you’d arrived he’d had a bed, a nightstand, a couch and TV in the living room, and little else.

“Typical male space.” You told him at the time, and Ghost had the gall to look offended.

Since then, the flat has become fuller with the addition of new furniture and decorations. A vanity for the bedroom, a table with chairs for the kitchen, an easy chair and coffee table for the living room, all trimmings you had convinced him of. Now, the flat is cozy, homey, warm with the lingering sensation of somewhere lived and loved.

Tonight, glowing lanterns hang from the front porch, brightly smiling pumpkins enticing trick or treaters up to the front step to ask for candy. You’d been delighted at the prospect of handing out sweets, though Simon had been ambiguous about the affair. Understandably so, for his hulking size and skull balaclava were sure to make a poor impression on the children that huddled on your front step.

He’s silent as he watches the movie, ignoring your quiet commentary as you bunch a blanket in your grip. You can tell that your lieutenant has either seen this movie before, or is so immune to scary movies in general that this doesn’t phase him. It makes sense for him. You’ve hardly ever seen him scared. Even in the face of certain death Ghost has always stared back, as if daring the cold, skeletal reach of the grim reaper to try and take him.

You, however, remain tightly coiled in anticipation at the scene before you. The colors of the TV dance off your wide eyes as you watch the young trim blonde on the screen enter the garage without a care in the world. She bounces down the steps easily, cleavage clearly on display and not noticing the dark figure that lurks behind her.

You suck in a sharp breath, and Simon casts you a sidelong glance. You think he may be smiling under his mask, but you’re not entirely sure. You wouldn’t put it past him if he was entirely amused at your fright. Even so, he squeezes your thigh for just a moment before releasing it, a tiny, wordless gesture of reassurance.

“Bet he’ll go for her throat.” He intones dryly. “More blood that way.”

You tear your gaze from the TV long enough to frown at him, and he tilts his head to meet your gaze, eyes glinting with mischief.

You open your mouth to retort, but not before the killer on the screen stabs forward into the girls back. The party music within the house pulses loud enough to cover her cries, and as she stumbles away from the man in the ghost mask she sobs and begs for mercy. You watch as she fumbles with the controls to the garage door uselessly, before ultimately trying to wiggle out through the dog door.

“No- oh my god, no the garage door!” You gasp, watching in horror as the murderer presses on the button to wrench the garage door up bit by bit. “Oh no!”

You cover your eyes with your hands, but even so manage to peek through your fingers and squeak as the girl’s screams cut out- her body is crushed between the door and the ceiling. A terrible, grisly end.

“Unexpected.” Simon offers flatly, and then huffs a laugh as he turns to you. “Pet, you hunt terrorists for a living. This shouldn’t scare you.”

“It’s different!” You declare, face warming. “I’ve never seen a terrorist crushed by a garage door.”

Simon pauses, nods at that with a little shrug. “Point taken.”

A knock on the front door, followed by a chorus of children’s voices. You spring eagerly from the couch, nudging your boyfriend’s foot pointedly as you sidle towards the front door to coo over the trick or treaters gathered outside.

“Oh look at you all! I love your costumes! Here, take as much as you want, there’s plenty.”

Simon considers for a moment, and decides to follow you, standing still in the hallway, just at the corner of darkness. The kids digging their hands into the candy bowl pause at the looming, skull faced figure lurking in the shadowy corridor. You follow their gazes towards Ghost, who hovers ominously staring at the kids in costumes.

“Can you not?” You hiss as they begin to pull away, but it’s too late. The kids flee from your front step back to their parents, squealing at Simon’s terrifying presence.

“Sorry for my boyfriend!” You call after them. “He’s just an idiot.”

You hear Simon chuckle behind you, as if gladly accepting the fact purely for his own amusement.

“Of all the nights-” You sigh in mild annoyance as you close the door with a click. “This is the night when you decide to commit to the serial killer aesthetic.”

Simon hums a low, rumbling sound that catches deep in his chest. He steps forward to encircle his muscular, veiny forearms around your hips, dragging you flush to him. You squirm, but a hand dips to grasp at the swell of your asscheek, forcing a surprised squeak up your throat.

“Gonna kill ya.” He tells you as you struggle not to smile.

“Jokes on you.” You reply breathily, hands snaking up to his chest to splay flat against the muscles there. “I’m the final girl.”

When Ghost abruptly hoists you up into his arms, you feign a shriek of terror.

“Help, please, he’s going to kill me!” You laugh as you’re carried off to the bedroom, the movie forgotten as it flickers brightly in the den.

—-

You’re not sure what wakes you up.

You’re used to sleeping in foxholes, safehouses, aboard helicopters and inside rocking trucks. Your history of long, grueling days with no rest and midnight stakeouts have made it so you can fall asleep just about anywhere. Yet the training of a soldier doesn’t fade even off duty, and you know as soon as your eyes open that there is something that is amiss.

“Simon…?” You slur drowsily, reaching a hand out to the other side of the bed to feel for his massive form that should be curled beside you, breathing low and deep as he slumbers.

Empty. Cold.

That startles you into something closer to wakefulness, eyes blinking in the darkness as you raise your head to look for your boyfriend. Yet the room is empty, silent, and even the noise of the house down the street with its Halloween party has now quieted into nothing.

A clatter of something down the hall, and you jolt, instincts coming fully online. Alarm has your heart race higher in your chest, breath quickening as the flat goes eerily silent once more. You shiver as you pull aside the blankets, skin chilled by the frigid air. As quiet as you can, you rise to face the bedroom door, left mysteriously ajar.

“Simon?” You echo again, a little louder, feeling uncertainty squirm in your stomach.

The vision of the killer from the movie floats into your thoughts unbidden, of the darkly clad, knife wielding maniac hunting down innocent victims and bleeding them dry as they cry out in vain for aid. You will it away with a small shake, forcing yourself to dispel your fearful delusions. Simon probably just went to the bathroom and accidentally knocked something off the counter, is trying to stay quiet so you go back to sleep.

Even so, something cold and tense seizes your limbs, and you chew on your lip at the undeniable sensation of something wrong.

You’ll just check to see if he’s alright.

You pad over towards the door on quiet feet, unable to stifle the tense sensation of awareness that prickles at the back of your senses. When your hand closes around the doorknob, you feel goosebumps erupt across your skin- chilled by the strange shadows that seem to lurk in the corners of your room. Gently prying it open, you carefully peek just beyond the threshold down the darkened hallway.

You almost don’t see it at first, the massive shadow that moves in the darkness. There’s no light from the bathroom, and it isn’t until the figure moves only slightly that your stomach drops down through the floor.

“Simon…?”

The thing freezes, turns, and it's only then that you see the thing in its grip.

A knife.

Terror rushed up through your lungs in a gasping breath of air. You’re frozen to the spot, unable to move, petrified by this intruder who has forced his way into your home. You need to move, to lock the door, to try and call for Ghost, but just like those teenagers in the movie you can’t seem to force yourself from where you stand.

The stranger turns slowly, inch by inch, even slower than your heartbeat, until at last he faces you.

A white mask, dark, voidless eyes, a misshapen mouth stuck in an eternal scream.

Terror slinks into your veins like dark tar, gripping at your lungs as they fill with a scream that can’t quite escape you. It clogs your throat in a wheeze even as you try to cry out, the masked menace fully facing you-

And charging.

You do scream then, ears ringing with the sound of your own voice, reeling backwards away from the door. Logic kicks in, and you scramble back to try and close it, chest heaving with uneven, gasping breaths. You slam it shut just in time, closing it so hard that the masked figure collides with the wooden sharply, stumbles backwards with a familiar curse.

“Fuckin’ Hell.”

You pause.

Then you wrench the door open.

Your boyfriend sits on the ground, cradling his face, now absent from his cheap, plastic mask. A low, rumbling groan escapes his throat as he rubs sorely at his nose, the toy knife in his hand tossed to the ground beside him.

It takes an almost embarrassing amount of time before your mind catches up. When it does, the full indignation and embarrassment at having been caught off guard flushes through you in a hot wash of anger.

“You’re an asshole.” You hiss at him, feeling your face warm. “That wasn’t funny.”

Simon doesn’t look at you, still cradling his nose. He does, however, give a small huff, unable to hide his amusement at your reaction.

“Think you broke my nose.” He tells you flatly, and instantly your anger tempers as you flick on the hallway light, kneeling down to inspect him. Sure enough, when you pull up his mask to reveal his nose there’s a small drip of red that bleeds from one of his nostrils.

“Serves you right.” You declare with an unempathetic look. “For running straight into the door.”

“Good reaction time.” He returns, and without his mask you can plainly see the corner of his lips uptick with a smile.

“Not a good way to test it.”

“Point taken.”

You sigh at him, sitting back on your haunches and making to wipe your bloodied fingers somewhere on your pajama pants. Before you can, Simon reaches out to grab them, dragging them forward to his lips. You stifle a shudder as his tongue flicks out, encircling the digits to suck the blood off.

“That’s fucked up.” You tell him, wrinkling your nose. Ghost merely hums around your fingers, and if you didn’t know better you’d almost think it was a moan. “What are you now, a vampire?”

Simon stills, tilts his head to look at you in the darkness with keen, glinting eyes.

You know that look.

“Ah- no.” You tell him, unimpressed. “Not until I fix your nose.”

He seems to agree to that with a small nod, but presses closer all the same, licking his lips free of his own blood.

“After.” He declares, voice low and suggestive, and you can’t help the small shudder that runs through you, trying and failing to frown at him. He can see the humor in your expression though, because a dark chuckle rumbles in his chest as he leans over you, forcing you to fall back onto your elbows. He looms over you dangerously, slides a knee up between your legs and hums in approval at the small, breathless sound you give him in return. You hear the rasping excitement of his voice as he dips his mouth down to the shell of your ear and whispers there:

“Killer gets the final girl.”

Full Series: Snowblind

#simon riley x reader #Simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #fic: snowblind #oc: fix #Soap and Gaz bust their asses laughing when they hear about this story #Where were they?#At the club in costumes getting their drinks paid for bc they're pretty

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becca-e-barnes · 9 months

Text

The Study

Not only is this the start of my 'Moving In' series, I'm also calling it my birthday piece! I turn 24 on Tuesday and I'm trying hard not to think about the fact I'm overdue a quarter-life crisis.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.7K (oops)

Warnings: Pleasure Dom!Bucky, sub! reader, spanking, use of a vibrator, forced orgasms, kinda Dom vibes but totally consensual, degradation, safe word system but safe word not used, pet names

Summary: Bucky spends the weekend at your new house and you take him on a tour.

Minors, do not interact

Turning the key in the front door still feels odd. One of the very first changes you made to the house was installing a new locking mechanism on both doors and it hasn't had a chance to stiffen up yet.

The smell of paint is starting to dissipate but it hits you hardest when you open the front door. The hallway was one of the last areas of the house to be redecorated so the smell seems to be most noticeable right at the door.

"Damn, this place is deceptive." Bucky's remark makes you smile to yourself while you hang your jacket up. "It's a whole lot bigger on the inside than I thought."

"It surprised me too. All of the rooms are a nice size."

The house had ticked so many boxes for you. More than two bedrooms in a quiet development, a low maintenance garden, off road parking, a downstairs bathroom and the whole house has plenty of potential. The plan isn't to live here forever, after all. It should be easy enough for you to sell when you decide to move on.

You flick a few lights on in the hallway and toss your keys into the bowl on the hall table before you turn your attention back to Bucky standing in your living room. Despite the fact you hadn't removed your own shoes, he's taken his off, leaving them neatly at the doorway of the living room beside his travel bag.

He's respectful of your space; he always has been but it's nice to just have him in your space. It's nice to have him be part of it.

He walks slowly around the little living room, looking at the few ornaments and picture frames you'd collected. "That's cute." He's looking at a picture of you and your best friend, sitting on the floor of your old kitchen, laughing yourselves to tears over the fact your Christmas tree was three inches tall and cut out from the back of a cereal box. The photo brings a smile to your face every time you see it.

"Are you hungry? You've had a long day." You move over behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing his back through his clothes while he looks at your pictures on the fireplace. He's had to travel for a few hours just to get here so you imagine he's bound to want something.

"I'm okay for now." You nod at his response, taking in the fact he's actually standing in your home.

The time you have with him is limited. That's how this works but for just less than two days, he's yours. After that, he'll go back home so you've learned to make the most of the time you have with him.

"Help yourself to whatever you like. Kitchen is down the hall." You don't even really want to move but you can't stand like this forever.

He turns in your arms so he's facing you and captures your lips in his. It's a soft, slow, gentle kiss; the kind you've been dreaming of since you last saw him. You need him to feel exactly how much you've missed him without having to tell him.

The kiss lasts for minutes, far beyond its natural end but neither of you care.

After what feels like forever, your lips part but your foreheads stay pressed together, both of you determined not to pull away.

"I still haven't gotten the grand tour." He's got the most beautiful eyes and they're locked on yours to the point that you'd almost forgotten he's never been here before. "But I want to start in your favourite room."

"Well, the study is my favourite. I converted one of the bedrooms into an office space."

"Show me."

You don't protest. Instead you head out of the living room and up the stairs to the furthest end of the hallway, with Bucky following closely behind you.

"These all used to be built-in storage units around a headboard for a bed. I took all the doors off the cabinets and made it into shelving." You'd turned the room into a space that you love. The walls are painted a light shade of cream with houseplants lined up between books on the shelves. Instead of storage around a headboard, you now have book shelves, arching around your desk. The other side of the room has a sofa that converts into a bed for extra guests and there's a beanbag in the corner by the window to read on.

"I see why it's your favourite. Odd mix of books here though." Bucky's eyes flick over the titles, ranging from your collection of political figures' autobiographies, the 'Diary of an Oxygen Thief' trilogy, the selection of books providing commentary on the criminal justice system and a good few classics.

"It is. But I like this room. It'll be cosy in winter once I get some fairy lights and nice and bright in summer. Somewhere to unwind." You're thinking out loud as you reach up to close the window and that's when you feel Bucky step behind you.

"I think we should celebrate." Bucky’s voice is low, his lips trailing up the side of your neck, heading towards the spot just behind your ear that he's always loved to kiss.

"I think..." He stops briefly on his path, taking a second to inhale deeply, determined to slow down. "I think we should make love in every room of your new house this weekend."

Fuck.

"Are you sure you're up for that? Because I can really stretch it out. I'm not sure how we're going to make it work in the pantry or the downstairs bathroom but I'm happy to try."

"Your 'pantry' is a cupboard." Bucky's breath is hot on your neck, and you feel his lips have curled into a smile.

"I know. You promised every room though." You can't help but tease him, although you're half serious. It's not your fault that you're keen. Not when he's kissing down your neck like that and holding your waist so your back is flush against him.

"You're a handful." You feel his fingertips graze the bare skin of your waist and you remember how nice it is to just be touched the way he touches you.

"I might be a handful but I can promise if I have my way, after you leave here on Sunday, you won't even be able to think about cumming again until Thursday at the very earliest."

"Jesus, that's one hell of a promise." He turns you around to face him and you notice his eyes are damn near twinkling with excitement.

You've got all weekend together; there's no need to rush but you can't help the overwhelming need to feel him sliding into you. That's when you feel closest to him and it's the closeness you're craving more than anything.

Your hand cups the side of his face, your thumb tracing across his freshly shaved jawline and you allow yourselves a second to just be together.

He smells familiar. The heat of his body against yours makes you feel safe. He makes you feel safe.

"I want to start with you though. I brought you a little something." He kisses your lips gently and smooths a hand down over your hair before he retreats downstairs to the bag that he'd brought a few changes of clothes in.

He returns with a small cardboard box with the tape on one end already cut.

"I didn't have time to wrap it. It arrived last minute." You're so busy trying to get into the box that you hadn't even noticed.

Inside the box are a few instruction manuals, a thin white cord and a black satin pouch. Inside the pouch is a neon pink toy that's thicker at each end, narrow in the middle and nicely curved.

"I've already charged it and paired it to my phone. This end slips inside you." He points to the thicker end, studying your face to make sure you're okay with this.

And why wouldn't you be? This is pretty damn close to a dream come true.

"Remember what you said last time I saw you? You wanted me to spank you. Maybe we should take it a little further." He's always been hesitant to do anything that would hurt you and that fact is the very reason you want him to. You know how much he wants to protect you and knowing he cares about you has you convinced that he's the right person to explore this with.

"Please." You whisper, beyond excited at the thought of getting everything you've begged him for. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'm thinking about you bent over this desk with this inside you and we'll start off with a couple of light taps to that pretty ass." He presses the button on the narrow part of the toy and it give a short buzz, coming to life in his hands.

Fuck, you're into this man. You're into his hesitation just as much as you're into his willingness to try something new.

"Traffic light safe word system. 'Red' and I'll stop, 'amber' and I'll give you a break, 'green' to keep going." He wants to be fully sure you know you're in control here, not that you ever had any doubt.

You nod and stretch up on your tiptoes to kiss him, this time with as much passion as you can manage. Your hands run through his hair while his trail over your body, your tongue flicking gently against his.

Just being around this man makes you wet, not that you'd ever admit that to him. Even the thought of him has you throbbing with arousal so now that he's here in front of you, your whole body feels like it's buzzing.

He touches you like he can't get enough. He can't get you close enough and it's beyond thrilling to be the subject of his need.

It's almost embarrassing that you get yourself worked up so easily but from the hungry look in his eyes when you undo the button of your jeans, he doesn't seem to mind.

You step out of your jeans and panties and Bucky helps you out of your top and bra, leaving you naked in your study.

"Look at you." Bucky sounds like he's almost in awe, no matter how many times he's seen you naked.

He kisses you again, matching the same passion he'd had earlier, trailing his hands over your soft, warm skin until his fingers are nestled between your thighs.

"Fuck, you're soaked." His fingertips trail between the folds of your sex, gathering the wetness he's responsible for. "Good girls don't get this wet at the thought of being spanked. You know that, don't you?"

You're almost too turned on to even respond to him. "Bend over. I want to see how well you take your toy."

You do as you're told, bending over your desk while Bucky drops to his knees behind you to slip the toy inside you. You feel him trail the thicker end of the toy against your slick cunt, gathering enough wetness to let it slip inside you comfortably.

Within a minute, the toy comes to life inside you and there's no way to stifle the moan that catches in your throat.

Not only is the internal part vibrating at a low, delightful buzz, the other end is pressed right to your clit and is stimulating it at the same strength.

"Did I say you could make a sound?" Bucky quizzes, sounding harsher than ever and when he gets no response, his hand comes down on your ass with so much force that it makes you yelp.

It was a hell of a spank and you can feel heat blooming under the skin of your left cheek, quickly followed by another spank to the right.

"For the record, you can make as much noise as you need to. But only because I've told you that you can. You see the difference?"

You force yourself not to nod and it has the effect you were hoping for. Two more harsh, painful spanks are delivered, one to each cheek, the same as before.

You don't know if you imagined it but the toy inside you feels stronger. You can't be sure if you're just focusing on the pleasure over the pain or if Bucky really has turned it up.

"Does that feel nice, sweetheart?" He needs to know you're enjoying this because a little part of him is surprised at just how much he's into it. He gets to control both your pleasure and your pain because you want him to and the trust alone is enough to get him off.

"Feels amazing, fuck. Making such a mess." Stringing sentences together isn't easy but you swear you're about to cum already. Your nipples rub delightfully against the wooden desk and you swear every sensation is heightened.

"I wish you could see the mess you're making. Looks fucking delicious." He turns the toy up ever so slightly but that's enough to send you spiralling, gripping the edge of the desk as pleasure ripples through your entire body.

You can do nothing but sob, cumming relentlessly because he's refused to turn the toy down. Even after you're done, he keeps it at the same intensity, moving on like nothing happened.

"You say the sluttiest things. That promise of yours to totally drain me. Who says shit like that? So fucking filthy."

"I mean it. I want every drop of cum you can give me. And then more." You know saying something like that will earn you another spank and it does.

"You're not just acting like a slut. You are a slut. You spend your life hiding it from everyone else but you can't hide it from me." A shiver runs down your spine. You almost feel like you've been caught. Like he's figured you out and now you have nothing left to hide. "Say it."

It's a clear instruction but saying it makes it real.

Your hesitation earns you another sharp spank, heat prickling both your face and your ass at the same time.

"Don't make me tell you twice." For someone hesitant to slip into a dominant role, he's absolutely nailing it.

"I'm your slut." Your voice is less steady than you would've hoped but the words at clear at the very least.

"My slut?" He almost sounds like he can't believe what he heard.

"Yours. Your slut." You repeat, wishing you could see his face.

"Oh sweetheart, that's cute." He means it too. He turns the toy up as a reward and even though it's only at half its full strength, you can't help but cum again, pleading your way through another blinding orgasm.

"Such a good girl for me. That's it. Cum nice and hard. Give that slutty little pussy what it needs." He lands one more harsh spank on your ass and you swear it only makes you cum harder, to the point that your legs are shaking.

But all of a sudden, the sensation stops completely.

"B-Bucky?" You ask, turning around to look at him, wondering if something went wrong.

"Don't want to wear you out, sweetheart. I think that'll do for now." You agree that it's probably a good place to stop and you have no problem taking the toy out for a while.

He pulls you in close, resting your head on his chest, letting you catch your breath while he holds you and kisses your forehead.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" His voice is soft, hoping that you'll tell him the truth.

"No. It was perfect." You smile, capturing his lips in yours, hoping to relieve some of his fear. You're almost giddy with excitment. It truly was everything you needed and you fully intend to thank him for it before the weekend is over.

"Good. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would." He's back to the gentle, tender touches that you're so used to from him and it's a blessing that he can flick so effortlessly between both personas.

"How about we order in and stick a movie on?" He suggests, kissing the tip of your nose. "Go put on something comfortable. I'll find a takeout."

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x you #dad’s best friend!bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes fic #dbf!bucky #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader smut #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #writing this was unexpectedly nostalgic #one of my favourite photos is of Amy and I sitting on the floor of my student flat in December a few years ago #we were drinking wine and working on an assignment and she noticed the only Christmas decoration we had was cut out from a cereal box #she laughed so hard she cried #I got to tell her recently about the house #but I hadn't even thought about the fact we can make as many happy memories in my new place as we did in my old uni flat #and that's made me even more excited #it's so weird to think that this is my last birthday in this house though

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