#done stepped back into this reality but it took a second

[superherocapturedbydemons]

I got deep stuck in Abbott Elementary fanfic last night and I turned on this week's episode and honestly forgot for a second that most of those couples are not Canon 💀💀

[makoodles]

ミi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, size kink, inexperienced!reader, first time blow jobs, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, riding, jealous ghost, some communication issues!

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

The problem with sleeping with a man like Ghost, you’re coming to realise, is that now that you’ve experienced the reality of sex (and good sex) you can’t stop thinking about it.

In the week following the night you’d spent together, you swear you can feel his phantom touch on your hips, your thighs, your back. It feels like he’s carved a space for himself inside of you, something you’ll never get back – not that you want it back in the first place. 

Realistically, you know that the whole ‘loss of virginity’ thing doesn’t have as much to do with how you’re feeling as the fact that it was Ghost who had taken it. You had long bullied your hymen out of the way with your collection of silly dildos, but nothing could have prepared you for the scorching hot heat of Ghost’s massive cock splitting you open, or his clever tongue licking at you, or his thick calloused fingers rubbing torturous circles into your clit and fraying your nerves apart.

The worst part is, you don’t know if anything is ever going to live up to the way he made you feel again. You’ve tried to replicate his touches, his rhythm, the way he had split you open, but your fingers are too small and none of your dildos can imitate the way he had worked you stupid. To your immense dissatisfaction, you don’t even come close to coming again.

It feels like something inside of you has cracked open, and you don’t know how to stop all of this new yearning, how to stuff it all back inside and pretend that nothing has changed.

The problem is that while you feel as though you’ve been changed from the inside out, you don’t think Ghost feels the same way. Maybe the most infuriating thing is that Ghost seems entirely unaffected. Other than a couple of lingering glances and knowing stares, there’s no indication that he had done anything more intimate with you than grappling at training. 

All you can do is attempt to follow his lead, to be as casual as possible.

It’s harder than it sounds.

You find your whole body straining towards him when he’s close to you, though you try to keep cool. You fail miserably. You can’t even look in Ghost’s direction without thinking of his big fingers hooked inside you, rubbing at your clit, squeezing at your tits. You can hardly look him in the eye without thinking of the way he looked when he was squeezed between your thighs with his mouth on your cunt, the way those big brown eyes watched as you writhed on his tongue.

And yet, you can hardly tear your eyes away from him. You look at him in a completely different light now. He’s the first man to take you, the first one to touch you so intimately, the first one to make you come. He’s still your lieutenant, but it’s like all of a sudden your eyes have been opened to a new aspect of him. He’s no longer just your untouchable superior, the man who’s always so cold and distant behind that death mask – now he’s the man who was gentle with you, the man who kissed you sweetly when he took your virginity, the man who gave you the first, second, third orgasm of your life.

But despite the way you had been offered that new little glimpse into Ghost, he still remains an enigma to you. 

You can feel his eyes on you throughout the week, though it’s never at the same time as when you’re looking at him. And maybe you’re imagining it, but it seems as though he’s gotten freer with his touches, too. A big palm on the small of your back as he steps past you, a quick squeeze to the shoulder. It’s subtle, and you can’t be sure that he’s actually touching you anymore than usual.

But other than the subtle glances and the light touches, Ghost doesn’t make any genuine effort to approach you again. He still treats you like just another member of the squad, no different to Soap or Gaz. 

If anything, he gives them more attention than he gives you, delivering his deadpan jokes and exchanging quips during training. You end up standing to the side, sending infrequent glances their way in the hopes that he’ll give you something.

You’ve never been the fittest or the strongest, but your level of distraction in those few days following your night with Ghost is absolutely mortifying. You’re slow, you’re clumsy, you mess up everything. 

You don’t think you can be blamed when you’re working in the same space as Ghost. You can hardly bring yourself to look his way when he’s lifting weights, unable to handle looking at the flex and curl of his muscles under his long-sleeve black workout shirt. It clings to him, letting you see every little shift of muscle and tendon beneath that stupid top as he works, and your mind very unhelpfully provides a slideshow of memories of him between your spread thighs. 

You know it’s obvious. You glance at him, then glance away, then back again. Your eyes linger, bright and too interested, before you’re able to hide it. You wonder sometimes if your yearning is obvious on your face; you hope not.

But if Ghost sees it – any of it – he gives no indication. 

If you have to be honest with yourself, you’ll admit that you’re disappointed. You had hoped that– well. You’re not sure you can bear to admit what you’d hoped, even just to yourself. It feels silly to admit that maybe you had hoped that Ghost wouldn’t be content with just being your first, that maybe he’d want to be your second, your third. Silly. Almost blasphemous.

You don’t technically have to show up to training, so after only two days of your awkward and uncertain pining in the gym, you stop showing up. The role you fulfil as part of the 141 is a non-combat one, so you know you won’t be missed in their ongoing training. You’ve mostly been working in communications; maintaining secure communication channels and ensuring that information is transmitted accurately and securely. The boys rely on you in the field, and you feel like you owe them a certain level of physical fitness just in case things go frighteningly wrong when you’re out there with them. 

There’s just something so mortifying about the whole situation. It feels as though Ghost had peeled back the layers of you and taken a peek at your soft unprotected insides. You’d been vulnerable in front of him in a way you’d never been in front of anyone before, in a way that you can hardly stand. You had thought that you’d been okay with it being a one time thing, but you weren’t exactly doing a whole lot of thinking at the time.

So yeah, every time he glances away from you, or when he doesn’t even bother to look in your direction at all, it feels like you’re being rejected anew. It’s…. It’s not ideal. But you’re a big girl, and you’ve dealt with repressed desire and stifled yearning for years now. At least now you have a real experience to add to your reserve of imagination the next time you try to get yourself off.

It’s fine. You convince yourself that you were being ridiculous in the first place. He’s Ghost, after all. You feel a little foolish for even having the brief hope that something more might happen between the two of you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You manage to keep to yourself for most of the week, and the rest of the squad is kind enough not to say anything about it. But when Thursday comes around, you realise it’s not going to be possible to avoid Soap and his persistent insistence that you join them all in the moderately-sized cantina for drinks that night.

Truthfully, it doesn’t take too much persuading to convince you to go. Avoiding training with the squad had resulted in a week of isolation that had left you lonely and wishing for some social interaction. Besides, you’ve never quite been able to say no to Soap, and so you’re dragged to the little cantina for the second Thursday in a row.

To your absolute bewilderment, you find yourself in the exact same position as you had been in the last time you shared drinks with the squad, exactly one week ago. 

Despite hardly speaking to you all week, Ghost had so confidently taken a seat next to you on the same fucking squishy little couch that you had shared last week. You end up partially squashed into the arm of the sofa, with Ghost’s massive hulking body brushing against you with every slight movement. 

It’s galling to admit it, but you feel like you’re on fire. He doesn’t say much other than a soft murmur of a greeting when he first settles down beside you, but then he throws his arm around the back of the couch in a move that’s unexpectedly intimate. 

You try not to read too much into it. While Ghost may be fairly aloof and menacing to those that don’t know him well, to you and the squad he’s always been subtly territorial. His eyes flick around the room semi-regularly, never at ease even in the middle of base. When Gaz goes to get drinks, Ghost’s eyes follow him until he gets back as though he’s expecting something to happen in the few minutes and couple of feet that he’s gone. He does the same when Price steps out for a smoke, and when Soap steps out to the toilet.

So the arm behind you (technically resting on the back of the couch rather than your shoulders) doesn’t actually mean anything. The curious look that Soap sends you doesn’t mean anything either, and you studiously ignore it as you force yourself to relax at Ghost’s side.

You drink the vodka soda Gaz hands you a little quicker than you mean to – maybe it’s because your nerves are already set on edge, but the alcohol goes to your head. Quickly. 

It’s a pleasant floaty feeling, and it eases some of the anxiety that’s been bubbling thanks to the heat that sinks into your skin from his side pressed up against you. By the time you drain your glass, you’re leaning against his side. He doesn’t react, for better or worse; you wish he would give you some indication of where you stand, whether he likes you bundled up by his side or if he’s just tolerating it.

When Ghost’s eyes finally slide over to you from behind the dark pits of his mask, you nearly jolt. His gaze is lazy and half-lidded, but he reaches out to take the glass from you. His gloved fingers brush over yours, and you can’t stifle the embarrassing little judder that runs down your spine.

“Slow down.” He murmurs, setting the glass aside. “It’s still early.”

You had been hoping all damn evening that he would just look at you, but now that you finally have his eyes on you it feels as though you’re pinned down by them. You try not to squirm, once again remembering the way those dark eyes had watched you so darkly as he had hunched over you, rutting into you until the tears were streaming down your cheeks.

Your mind goes blank under his attention and his closeness, the ambient noise of glasses clinking and loud voices laughing and joking and muffled old eighties tunes fading to nothing until the sound of Soap’s loud voice brings you back to yourself.

“Let the lass drink, LT.” He crows, grinning, and you realise that he already has another couple of drinks in his hands. You hadn’t even noticed him leaving for the bar. “She deserves to have fun tonight. Don’t you, bonnie?”

“Sure.” You agree easily, relieved by the distraction and already reaching for the new drink. You’re still all fidgety and distracted, eager to drown yourself in it. “I deserve fun.”

It feels as though Ghost’s gaze is burning right into the side of your head, but you fixedly ignore him. He’s so intense, you’re pretty sure that you look like a dazed idiot under the weight of his attention. It’s the most he’s looked at you all week, and you attempt to hide your face behind your glass as you take a sip of your fresh drink.

He’s drinking too, though he’s foregone his usual whiskey in favour of a dark lager that he’s barely touched. The glass is sweating with condensation, and he swipes a thick gloved thumb over the fog on it absent-mindedly as he watches you.

You watch Gaz and Soap as they joke with each other, trading jibes and jabs and stories that you hardly even hear. It feels a little as though your ears have been filled with cotton wool, as though everything around you is just distinctly muffled. You feel like you’re on another planet, awareness tethered only by the hot, hard line of Ghost’s muscular body pressed against your side. 

Over the last week, you’ve tried very hard not to be a stereotype.

You’ve heard men laughing about girls they’ve slept with who’ve become too clingy, who’ve wanted too much, and wasted their time searching for something that those guys aren’t willing to give. Maybe it’s because you’re so conscious that Ghost has taken several of your firsts, but you’re so determined to not be that person. 

Ghost isn’t exactly a big talker anyway, unless it’s the odd sarcastic comment or ribbing with Soap, so it’s not like you’ve talked about the situation. You had just awoken the morning after with a deep ache in your core and a sore back, though the pain was soothed by the warm embrace you were all wrapped up in. You had been nervous, but you needn’t have been. Ghost had given you nothing. He just rubbed your back with one shovel-sized hand and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder (through the mask, so you don’t know what to make of that) before he rolled out of your bed to pull his trousers back on, grunting that he’d see you later.

So, you don’t talk about it. Not with him, and not with anybody. It feels like so much has changed, yet everything stays the same. The deja vu you’re experiencing from sitting on the couch drinking with him like this is overwhelming, and experiencing him staring at you like this after a full week of distance is making you feel hot and fuzzy and stupid.

While Soap is in the midst of a loud and enthusiastic retelling of a story from his basic training days, you build up the courage to glance up at Ghost. He’s already looking at you, as though anticipating your attention. 

“You’re staring at me.” You mumble, your fingers clenching compulsively around your chilled glass.

Ghost shifts, and you feel the thick muscle of his bicep roll behind your head. He grunts in quiet agreement. 

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything else, uninterested in justifying or explaining himself. It’s like he thinks that he doesn’t need to; he just keeps watching you, his light blond eyelashes drawing low over his eyes as his head tilts.

Self-conscious under his intensity, you glance away again. Soap is still talking, but you can’t focus. Despite the fact that Ghost is big and warm and so frustratingly attractive beside you, it’s hard to ignore the subtle prickle of irritation that’s growing under your skin. 

After all, he had taken your virginity and then proceeded to act as though nothing at all had changed between you for the rest of the week, and now he’s sat next to you with his gaze that heated? What the fuck?

The second drink goes down even easier than the first thanks to your awkwardness. You’re not sure what to make of his attention – you’ve spent the whole week keeping a sense of distance, determined to stay cool and casual. The last thing you want to do is freak him out by seeming like an over-eager idiot that’s gone and fallen in too deep with him, unwilling to lose whatever meagre respect Ghost has developed for you since you started working with the 141.

“I’ll get the next round.” You blurt suddenly, pushing yourself up off the couch.

It’s too abrupt to be casual, and you pointedly don’t look at the half-full glasses in your squad mates’ hands as you hurry away. You probably could have played that off better, but you need a moment to collect yourself away from Ghost’s relentless stare.

You take the opportunity to breathe at the bar, rubbing at your eyes and sighing. The bartender is busy, so you just stand there for a long moment, mentally chastising yourself.

God, this is just embarrassing. You’re a grown fucking woman, and here you are getting so ridiculously flustered over your lieutenant. You never thought that you’d be the type to turn into a silly little mess over the first man you ever sleep with, but maybe it was inevitable. The little embers of that crush you had been harbouring on Ghost since you joined the team have been fanned into a full on flame and you hardly know how to handle yourself.

It takes a significant effort to keep your attention away from the table; you can’t help but want to look, to see if Ghost is still looking your way, but you keep your eyes to yourself. 

When another body appears at your side, you jolt in surprise. You hadn’t expected to be followed, and your first thought is that it must be Soap. But when you glance to your side, you find a stranger standing closer to you than you expected.

Well, he’s not a total stranger. You know him to see around the base, sandy-haired with a too wide smile. You think he might be a second lieutenant, but you’ve never actually had any dealings with him and you can’t think of a name… Daniels, maybe?

“Hello there,” He says, and even with those two words his intentions are unmistakable. His tone is suggestive, as is the way his eyes scan over your body. “How you doing?”

It’s far from the first time you’ve been hit on by men; it comes with the territory of being a woman in a male-dominated environment. They look at you like they want to eat you sometimes, in a way that sets your teeth on edge. You’ve always danced around the subject of intimacy, embarrassed about your lack of experience and too anxious to actually seek out anyone to change that. What happened with Ghost was unexpected, and just about changed your entire outlook on sex and physical pleasure for life. 

Your first reaction, as always, is to shut him down or ignore him. But something makes you pause, and glance back at him. 

He’s sort of cute. A charming smile, at least. When he sees you looking back, he only smiles wider and steps closer.

“Let me get this next one for you,” He says, gesturing at the bartender to catch his attention. “What’re you having?”

“Uh..” You hesitate a moment, biting your lip. “Vodka soda.”

He orders, then leans against the bar and turns to face you fully. His gaze is appreciative, and for once you don’t shy away from it. You so rarely return male attention that you hardly know what to do, but you manage to muster up an awkward smile.

When the bartender returns with your drink, you feel a momentary pang of guilt. You had almost forgotten that you were meant to order drinks for the table, and you send a swift glance over your shoulder. 

The boys are still engrossed in their conversation, hardly even noticing your absence. All but Ghost.

The lieutenant has half-turned, his arm still slung over the couch where you had been sitting as he stares. The realisation that his eyes are still on you has your spine straightening, self-conscious now about your posture and your body language. 

You look away swiftly, and try not to feel guilty. You’re not doing anything wrong, after all. He hasn’t spoken to you all week despite the fact that he’d nearly done your back in fucking you.

Your experience with Ghost may have been a one-time thing, no matter what you might have been hoping for, but there’s no reason that it has to be a one-time thing for you with anyone else. Even with your stupid vibrators and dildos, you haven’t been able to come close to coming in the week following your night with your lieutenant. You’re starting to wonder if maybe you’re not capable of coming without someone else’s hands on you.

“I’ve seen you around, been meaning to talk to you,” Daniels is saying, and in your distraction you almost miss it. “But it’s, uh… it’s a little difficult to catch you alone.”

You almost scoff, but you manage to swallow it back down. You know exactly what he means; the 141 sticks together and looks out for each other, but it also sometimes feels like you have a couple of overprotective guard dogs. They take watching you seriously, probably due to your non-combat role on the team, and you’ve never discouraged it because you like the way they make you feel safe. 

“Yeah, the guys can be a little protective.” You laugh a little weakly. “But don’t mind them.”

Even now, you can feel Ghost’s dark eyes burning into you from across the room. You wonder how on earth Daniels remains so unaware of it.

“Mm,” Daniels leans in, his white teeth glinting. “Can’t blame them, I suppose. Why don’t you come and join me and some of the lads at our table for a bit? Spend some time with some new people.”

You shift on the balls of your feet, thinking. Admittedly, you’ve never been big on socialising when on base, other than the usual minor exchange of pleasantries. You hardly even know what to do in the face of a man’s interest in you now.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” You demur, reaching up to scratch absently behind your ear. “I don’t think the boys would appreciate me abandoning them for the night.”

Daniels’ smile widens, and you feel your cheeks heat. You feel clumsy with your socialising, as though you’re stretching muscles you’re not used to using. Since you had joined the 141, you hadn’t done too much mingling outside of the squad; they’ve been your only friends and confidantes, ribbing and supporting you in equal measure. In the face of a stranger in the on-base cantina, you find yourself floundering.

“I think they get enough of your time,” He murmurs, leaning against the bar in such a way that his body is angled towards you. “C’mon, I’ll buy you another few drinks and we can get to know each other, huh?”

Maybe the vodka was a bad idea. It’s lowering your inhibitions, making you actually consider his offer. You’re pent up from a week of unsuccessful touching yourself, and you crave physical intimacy. 

If you can’t get a repeat performance from Ghost, then maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if you looked elsewhere, with someone who might be interested in more than a one time thing.

You glance down at Daniel’s hands where they’re wrapped around his beer glass. They’re big, with strong slender fingers and calloused knuckles. Nice hands, you think, but you can’t help but compare to the enormous thick paws of your lieutenant. Still, you think they’d do the job.

“Well–” You start to say, your tone wavering and uncertain as you consider his officer.

But you don’t get to give him an answer before a massive hand settles on your shoulder. It makes you jolt, startled, recognising Ghost by touch alone. It feels as though it sears straight through your clothes, and your eyes widen.

For a moment, Ghost says nothing at all. He just stands at your shoulder, so close that you feel the muscle of his chest and stomach brush against your back, and stares at Daniels from over the top of your head. The glare isn’t even directed your way, and yet you find yourself wilting from it.

“On your way, Sergeant.” Ghost drawls, lifting his chin and gesturing at him dismissively.

Despite Ghost’s obvious intimidation factor, Daniels doesn’t immediately do as he’s told. He huffs out a short breathless laugh instead, as though he can hardly believe what he’s hearing.

“We’re only talking, Lieutenant–”

Ghost doesn’t even respond. His glower just intensifies, until Daniels trails off and his mouth snaps shut. You get the impression that if anyone else tried to intimidate him just by staring and posturing, Daniels might actually square up and fight. He seems like the type to make poor decisions while drinking – maybe you were going to be one of them. 

But as it is, Ghost has an intimidation factor unmatched by anyone else you’ve ever known. It goes beyond his giant hulking physique and skull mask and low gravelly voice that can sound like a clap of thunder when he’s angry. It’s like he has an aura, something that radiates off him in dark waves saying ‘Don’t fuck with me’. Any sensible person would back the fuck off when faced with his full, unwelcoming attention.

And sure enough, Daniels is no exception. He raises his arms to his shoulders and gives Ghost a mocking sort of smile before retreating backwards. To your mortification, he doesn’t so much as glance your way even as he turns his back on you.

Irritation settles over you like a blanket. It makes your skin itch and your teeth grind, and you turn to scowl at Ghost.

“What the hell was that?” You demand, and your voice comes out sharper than you had technically intended.

Ghost’s head tilts, and those sharp dark eyes find you from behind the mask. The eyeblack is beginning to fade in patches around the inner corners of his eyes – bizarrely, it serves as a reminder that Ghost is just a man, not just a massive wall of muscle with a terrifying glower.

“What was what?” He says. His voice has dropped a notch, deep and rumbling into you even as you step away and turn so that you’re facing him head on.

“You– I was just–” You flounder for a moment, searching for words as you gesture uselessly with your hands. 

You’re indignant over his interruption, and your frustration grows as you find yourself unable to articulate yourself. Where the hell does he get off interrupting you talking to another man? He hadn’t spoken to you all week, and now he feels confident enough to cockblock you?

“Mm.” Ghost grunts. “What were you doing?”

Your jaw clenches. “I was talking. Is that a crime now?”

Jesus, you sound like a brat. You don’t even know where this insubordination is coming from; he’s your lieutenant, regardless of that one night you had spent with him. You’re being too bold talking like this, but it’s like you just can’t help yourself.

His eyes darken, lashes blocking out his irises as his gaze narrows at you. You force yourself to maintain eye contact, to keep your spine straight and shoulders back despite your impulse to crumble.

“Watch that mouth, doll.” He warns, his voice low, and you feel your stomach tighten at both his words and his tone. 

But your self-preservation instincts are still missing.

“You can’t ignore me all week and then get annoyed at me when I–”

He cuts you off as though he’s not even listening to you. “Not here. Come on.”

And with that, he wraps one big hand around your upper arm and begins leading you out of the cantina. He’s not harsh, and he doesn’t drag you or anything, but judging by the tense set of his shoulders arguing with him would be a really bad idea right now. 

You’ve pissed him off, and you don’t want to make his mood worse so you allow your feet to move automatically as he leads you out of the room.

You can feel eyes on your back as you leave, and you feel yourself grow squirmy with embarrassment. No doubt the rest of the squad is watching you get hauled off by Ghost right now. 

Oh god, the Captain is watching you get hauled off — how mortifying. You pray they didn’t catch your little exchange with Ghost at the bar, but you have a feeling that hope is in vain. The 141 are close-knit and protective over each other, but they’re also terrible gossips.

“Let me– Sir, let me go–” You start to complain, testing his grip. His hold on you is iron-clad, and yet still somehow gentle enough to avoid bruising.

When you realise where he’s leading you to, you stop complaining very quickly. You had figured that he was just going to drag you into the corridor outside and give you a talking to, but he doesn’t stop there. He keeps going, until you realise that he’s leading you all the way back to your own damn room

“What are you doing?” You demand in a hiss. You’re so incensed that you swear your hair is standing on end. 

After all that, is Ghost seriously hauling you back to your room like you’re a bold child? Is he angry because of your insubordination at the bar? 

A cold trickle of anxiety enters your stomach, and you steal a worried glance at his face. The hard-shell mask he uses on missions has been traded for the softer black woven balaclava that he usually wears when he’s not in the field, but it doesn’t make him any easier to read.

He doesn’t answer until the two of you have crossed the threshold of your room, the door shutting behind you with a firm click.

Now that it’s the two of you, alone once again in your tiny shitty room, you find your indignant confidence waning rapidly. He’s just so big, the huge masculine frame of him making you feel more ridiculous than ever for your momentary flash of brattiness. Even worse, having him in your space like this is only making your brain go into overdrive, as though your body remembers what happened the last time he was here like this.

You decide that the best defence mechanism to prevent yourself from looking like a fool is to cling onto those last little dregs of anger.

“You’re unbelievable.” You snap, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. “You’ve been avoiding me all week! And then as soon as another guy speaks to me, you’re over to me like a light. I mean, what the fuck?” And then, remembering the chain of command, you add a very sullen, “Sir.” 

Throughout your mini little rant, Ghost has just watched you. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t know how to read, unable to get a feel for what he’s thinking through that inscrutable mask.

“‘S not true.” He grunts after a moment, and you realise that his eyes have creased in a way that suggests he’s frowning.

You feel like you’re going to explode. “Yes, it is! Daniels was barely speaking to me for two minutes before you scared him off–”

Bizarrely, your words make Ghost snort. You hadn’t even realised how tense his shoulders were until he relaxes, and you stare at him in confusion as he steps past you towards your bed. Your anger fizzles out, leaving behind self-conscious confusion as you watch your lieutenant settle down so that he’s sitting at the edge of your bed with his legs spread wide. 

“His name is Davidson.” He says, and his voice is missing the somewhat dangerous edge it had only moments earlier. “And that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

Embarrassment flares, though you try to stifle it. So you didn’t know the guy’s name – whatever. You would have learned it by the end of the night, you’re certain. You open your mouth, defensive and prickly, but Ghost speaks again before you get the chance to.

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” He says, watching you like he’s trying to figure you out. When you just blink at him, he sighs. “Jesus, sweetheart, just sit down for a second. Tell me what I did wrong, yeah?”

You’re left feeling a little wrong-footed, hesitating in the middle of the room. You had expected him to be a little angrier than this, to chide you for your behaviour. Or maybe you had expected him to be cold, or dismissive.

Slowly, you take a few steps towards the bed. He watches you approach, those dark eyes watchful and sharp, but says nothing as you nervously perch on the bed beside him. 

Despite the fact that this is your room, you’re stiff when you sit next to him. Your brain is in overdrive, providing you with very unhelpful memories of the last time Ghost was on your bed and flooding your body with mortifying heat.

“You’ve barely spoken to me since we–” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, averting your gaze and staring at some point past his shoulder. “Since last week. If you wanted to keep it professional, that’s– that’s fine–”

Ghost’s spine straightens, but he doesn’t speak yet. He just watches you, and lets you flounder awkwardly as you struggle to articulate yourself.

“I don’t want to make things awkward, I just–” You’re tripping over your words, wincing when they come out all clumsy. “I’ve never done this before, so I’ll follow your lead, but I don’t understand the point of sending Dan– Davidson, whatever, away like that if you’re clearly trying to keep things between us professional–”

Finally, Ghost speaks, though it seems like he’s suddenly developed incredibly selective hearing.

“He’s a wanker. Chases around any woman that stands still for too long in that damn cantina every time we’re in there.” His voice is a low earnest rumble, but you’re too agitated to properly hear him. “He didn’t have anything to offer that you’d be interested in.”

“That’s not–”

“Besides,” He cuts clean across you, but so gently, so much so that it surprises you. “I think we long surpassed professionalism when you asked if you could use my cock like a dildo.”

Blood rushes to your head so fast you feel a little light-headed. Right, so he’s decided to cut straight to the chase then. You swallow, and your dry throat clicks audibly.

“Right.” You say. “Yeah, that– um… that’s made things awkward, I suppose.” A brief pause, and then you sheepishly add, “Sorry, LT.”

Ghost just watches you, his brown eyes inscrutable beneath the fan of his pale eyelashes. Under the dark fabric of the mask you see his jaw flex, as though he’s considering his next words carefully.

“C’mere.” He says.

You had been expecting him to say more, and you hesitate a moment before reluctantly shuffling over a few inches. Though he had invited you to move closer to him, you’re suddenly so conscious of crossing any possible boundaries. 

You had never slept with anyone before, and you don’t understand what’s expected of you now. How are you supposed to act, now that you’ve had a one-night stand with your lieutenant? 

“Haven’t been ignoring you,” Ghost says, and he reaches out to place a hand on your knee. The touch makes your eyes widen, gaze darting down to stare at his thick fingers where they wrap around the underside of your knee. “You jokin’? Been watching you all week. Thinkin’ about you all the time.”

That’s a bold enough statement that all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You can’t deny that he’s been watching you – you had felt his eyes on you regularly, but always from a distance. But… 

“You never–” You start to say, before swallowing again so you don’t say something stupid. “You haven’t spoken to me.”

“Spoke to you during training, before you stopped showing up.”

That’s a little galling, and all you can do is scowl. 

“Stop that. You know what I mean.” You snap defensively. 

Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think Ghost might be confused behind that stupid mask. His head has tilted just slightly to the side in the same way as it usually does when he’s trying to figure something out.

“I was trying to give you space, doll.” He murmurs. “It was your first– I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Wanted you to make your own choices.”

The uncertainty in his voice is unexpectedly endearing, but you’re not ready to let go of your irritation with him just yet. Admittedly you’re losing steam, but you struggle to straighten your back and affect a scowl nonetheless.

“I didn’t want space.” You say, and it comes out a little more childish than you had intended it to. You try not to cringe at yourself. “You just– we never talked about anything, you just woke up the next morning and left and then all week you hardly spoke to me.”

You curse your inexperience even as you speak, feeling like a total idiot. You just wish you knew what was expected of you, what Ghost wants. Was he put off by the fact that he had to guide you, fumbling and clumsy, through an experience that was absolutely mind-blowing for you but probably sub-standard for him?

And oh, that thought makes dread curl in your belly. What if Ghost wasn’t impressed with your… performance? You had no idea what you were doing, only that the way Ghost had touched you felt so good, so much better than you’ve ever managed to make yourself feel with your fingers or toys. And when he had brought you to orgasm, you had lost yourself completely. You hadn’t made any attempt to return his attention, too lost in all the new pleasure you were experiencing.

There’s a pause, the silence between you stretching taut. Ghost doesn’t rush to reply, instead apparently thinking hard before he speaks. 

“I go for a run in the mornings.” He says at last, his voice low and rumbly. 

It takes you a moment to process that. 

“You– what?”

Ghost shifts, and the cheap standard issue mattress beneath the two of you squeaks. “That morning, I… went for a run.”

He must realise how that sounds – maybe the expression on your face tips him off – because he hurries to add on to it. “Creature of habit, love. I didn’t– I don’t do this often either. I stayed the night, we cuddled. I thought–”

He stops rather abruptly, and doesn’t finish so you don’t quite know what he thought. Your confusion has gotten the best of you, and you’re staring at him in agitated confusion. God, he’s bad at communicating.

“Should have stayed.” He says gruffly, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds a little chagrined. “Thought we were fine, until you started avoiding me. And then I thought you just needed time to yourself.” He gives a jerky shrug, clearly out of his comfort zone. “‘Cause it was your first time. Dunno.”

Oh. Well.

Now you’re the one blinking at him. That’s… not what you had been expecting. 

While you thought Ghost had been giving you the cold shoulder, he had thought that he was being considerate. Jesus. You’re not sure how to even begin processing that.

“I didn’t need time to myself.” You say, and you sound pathetic.

There’s a beat of silence during which you feel thoroughly examined. Ghost hardly even blinks as he watches you, his scrutiny making you sweat.

“No,” He rumbles after a moment. “Apparently you didn’t.”

You roll your eyes, honestly a little irritated with him. Even after it’s been made clear that your miscommunication has caused issues this whole week, he’s still so hesitant to just fucking talk to you. 

“Right, well–” You start to say, a little sharp. 

He grabs at you before you can retreat, his enormous hand comically large around your wrist. He’s not holding you harshly, his grip just loose enough that you could break out of it if you tried. But instead of pulling away, you allow him to tug you closer. His free hand reaches for your hip, and quicker than your tired mind is able to follow he’s tugged you up into his lap.

“Jesus–” You blurt, grabbing at his shoulders for balance.

Ghost is built like a brick house, all thick and sturdy with all that solid muscle. He’s broad too, and your legs are forced wide as he encourages you to settle in his lap. You try not to let your reaction show on your face, but Ghost is watching you so carefully that you’re certain he can read every micro-twitch anyway.

“Last week wasn’t enough?” He asks, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds hungry. Maybe you could even delude yourself into thinking there’s an undertone of hope, too.

But maybe that’s a step too far. This is the Ghost, after all. He’s veritably a human weapon, every inch of him battle-scarred and solid beneath the heavy clothes and thick mask. You’re pretty sure that any kind of yearning you hear has been prescribed by your own imagination. But you can’t help yourself.

You shake your head, your breath catching in your chest. No, last week wasn’t enough.

“Then why bother with that idiot at the bar?” Ghost asks, his big hands folding around your hips. “If you wanted to be fucked, you could have just asked me.”

You swallow thickly, your throat clicking audibly. For some reason, you hadn’t expected him to speak so bluntly, but it’s typical of Ghost to get straight to the point without beating around the bush. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to do that with me again.” You say, your voice edged with insecurity. 

There’s a long moment of silence during which Ghost just stares at you. It’s borderline uncomfortable, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. Even with the mask acting as a barrier, he’s still so intense.

“What made you think that?” He asks, his voice low.

You find yourself quite abruptly aware of the position you’re in. You’re sitting perched in your lieutenant’s lap with your legs spread wide, after a week of pining after him like an embarrassing little puppy. You’ve been craving physical contact, yearning desperately for that same kind of pleasure he had introduced to you ever since your night together. 

“You’re difficult to read.” You whisper awkwardly, shifting. You’re hyper-aware of your weight in his lap; even though you know he’s strong, the thought of being too heavy for him is a little mortifying.

But his hands tighten around your hips, keeping you securely in place across his thighs.

“You think so?” His voice is low, a little rough, and the gravel of it causes a little frisson of heat to trickle down your spine. “You been trying to read me? Can’t have been doin’ a very good job, darling, since you’ve been avoiding me all fuckin’ week.”

Your breath comes out tremulously, and you pray he can’t hear the shake in your voice when you speak. Judging by his darkening gaze, he hears it loud and clear. 

“I just– Didn’t know if you would want me again.” You whisper, feeling foolish and inexperienced and clumsy.

Ghost watches you, his dark eyes flickering over your face, before he finally hums. Then his grip tightens around your hips and he pulls you so that your clothed crotch grinds against him. You gasp, your eyes widening when you feel the thick ridge of his cock in his tac trousers, unmistakably hard as your clothed cunt slides over him.

“Feel that?” He asks, his voice dropping into that deep, hungry register that you’ve been hearing in your dreams all fucking week.

“Yeah.” You choke, fighting the urge to grind on him like a fucking slut. If your hips twitch, just a little, you think you could be excused.

You are already intimately familiar with his cock, considering how eagerly he had fucked you open on it a week ago (several times, too), but the way it fills his trousers makes it seem ridiculously big and you wonder, a little wildly, how the fuck it ever fit in you in the first place. It presses against the seam of his trousers, right between your legs, and then Ghost grinds up into you and you swear your vision sparks out for a moment.

“Oh!” You blurt out in a wavering whisper, clutching at his shoulders. “Oh, god.”

“Still think I don’t want you?” He grunts. His hands are like fucking shovels, and he takes a grip of your ass and squeezes until you squeak.

Your head is swimming. Your trousers are too tight, the crotch of them pressing into your clit, and you feel like you can't get enough air in your lungs. 

“I don’t know.” You say stupidly. 

It’s like your cunt knows that Ghost is near, because you’re fucking drenched. You can feel your underwear stick uncomfortably to you beneath your clothes, slick and wet as you feel the shape of Ghost’s cock press into you.

He sighs beneath you, his big palm stroking over your ass affectionately. 

“You think too much, doll.” He mutters, his finder squeezing into the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a stress toy. “Way too fuckin’ much.”

He’s probably right. God, you want to stop thinking. Want to return to that stupid, dazed, fucked-out state of mind he had sent you to when he had stuffed you full.

Hesitantly, you grind yourself down onto the thick bulge beneath you. It feels good, that familiar pleasant little spark jolting up your spine as you hump yourself against him.

“Yeah,” Ghost grunts, his voice thick with unmistakable want. “That’s it. You’ve been wanting this, havent’cha?”

“Yeah.” You admit, so quietly that it’s almost inaudible. “Yeah, I want it.”

But Ghost hears. Of course he does. He lets out a low sound that has your thighs squishing closed around his hips, overwhelmed and running far too hot. 

He has you on your back so quickly that your head spins, and you end up staring at the ceiling for a moment in bewilderment, trying to figure out how you’d gotten there. Ghost is already leaning over you, his dark eyes intent on your face as he settles between your thighs.

You think you should probably be embarrassed about the ease with which you spread your legs, eager to feel his bulky body between your thighs. But you’re already running hot, your chest tightening with want, and you find yourself mercifully relieved that he’s here. The miscommunication between the two of you is going to be solved, Ghost wants you, and you’re about to get what you’ve been craving all week.

He pulls your own pants off effortlessly, leaving you in the underwear that you’ve fucking ruined. You try to shut your legs, face burning hot with embarrassment as you try to hide the sight, but Ghost doesn’t have any intention of letting you hide yourself.

He pushes your legs back open, then presses his masked face to the inside of your thigh. You’re not sure what he’s doing; you remember, with a little thrill, the feeling of his red hot mouth against your pussy, but you don’t think that’s what’s happening here because he’s still got his stupid fucking balaclava on.

“Did she miss me?” He asks, his words muffled by both the mask and the pudge of your thigh.

“What?” You ask breathlessly, thinking for a moment that Ghost is talking about you in the third person.

But then he nuzzles his masked face against the sodden seat of your knickers, and you realise that he’s talking about your fucking pussy.

“Oh my god, you weirdo–” You choke out, but you don’t get any further than that before Ghost is tugging impatiently at your underwear, trying to reveal your cunt. 

He hushes you, almost absent-mindedly, and you hear him take a breath when he finally manages to get your knickers off. He tosses them aside, his dark eyes focused intently on your bare cunt now that it’s been revealed. It’s embarrassing, but you can’t bring yourself to try and hide again. He’s touching you so reverently and looking at you so hungrily that you’re not brave enough to try to deprive him of the sight.

“My fussy girl,” He mutters, low enough that you almost don’t hear him. “Have you been touching yourself? Using your toys this week?”

You shiver, a little embarrassed. You have been using your stupid toys, but they haven’t been working. No matter what you do, you can’t replicate the feelings that Ghost had managed to elicit in you with such ease, and you have a sinking feeling that he knows that.

But the mention of your toys reminds you of something else, too. A recurring thought that’s been practically haunting you, that’s had you imagining Ghost up above you and around you as you’d sucked experimentally on your dildo, sliding it into your mouth just to see how much of it you could take.

“Wait–” You say, and though your voice wavers, Ghost sits back immediately, eyes on your face. It’s like he’s just waiting for your word, an order, a direction. Something in your belly warms, and you take a breath.

“I want to try something.” You tell him before you can lose your nerve. “Sit back down.”

He sits at the edge of your bed, his bulky frame moving far more gracefully than you’d expect for his size if you hadn’t already seen him in action. He’s almost patient, until you catch the way the fingers of his right hand drum against his thigh as he waits for you to do something.

Since you’re already stripped from the waist down, you see no point in remaining clothed on top too. When you pull your top and bra off, Ghost makes a low appreciative rumble deep in his chest that you swear you can feel run down your spine. 

“Promising start.” He says, and you want to smack him.

You shoot him a little scowl, before deciding to just ignore him. You’ve fancied him for an embarrassingly long time, probably since the very first time you had laid eyes on him upon joining the task force, and now he’s sitting on your bed, willing and hard and admitting that he wants you. It takes your breath away a little, especially the way that he doesn’t seem put off by your inexperience at all.

Slowly, you sink to your knees in front of him and watch his eyes widen beneath the balaclava. It’s somewhat gratifying to see his surprise; like you’ve finally got one over on your big bad lieutenant. 

“Very promising start.” He says, and this time he sounds a little husky. “D’you know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

The answer is, very obviously, no. You have no idea what you’re doing, you’re learning as you go along. But Ghost hasn’t judged you yet for your clumsy fumbling exploration, so you can only hope that he’s willing to put up with this too.

“Sort of.” You say evasively. “I’ve seen it in porn, and I’ve… I’ve been practicing.”

Ghost’s groan sounds like it’s been punched out of him, and it’s rough enough to have you glancing up in surprise from where you’re trying to get his stupid trousers unbuttoned. Your hands are unsteady and unsure, and it’s slow-going.

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding a little out of breath himself. “Which one?” “What?” You’re a little distracted, not paying full attention to his question as you tug at his trousers. You’ve finally got them unbuttoned, and you pull impatiently in an effort to get them off. Ghost lifts his hips to help, though your eager impatience seems to amuse him.

“Which one of your toys’ve you been practicing on?” He asks, the barest undertone of a groan in his voice. “The pretty little pink one?”

You feel embarrassed heat prickle in your face because yes, it had in fact been that one you had been practising with. You’re not quite sure what to make of the fact that you’re apparently so predictable that Ghost can guess which dildo you’ve been sucking at, imagining it was him.

“Maybe.” You mutter evasively.

Ghost lets out a low chuckle right as you manage to wrangle his cock out of his briefs, and then you have to pause for a moment because oh. You had known, of course, that he was big. You had felt him for days after that first time, like a fucking internal bruise that ached at you every time you moved. He was bigger than any toy that you owned, you know that, you’ve felt it, and yet now that it’s in front of your face it seems so much bigger than you remember.

You’ve watched porn with so-called ‘monster cocks’ and it isn’t like that. It’s just… bigger. Than average, that is. At least, as far as you can tell, because it’s not like you have enough experience with dicks in real life to have any idea of what average really is.

Ghost must recognise the momentary flash of panic that crosses your face, because he reaches out and strokes a gloved thumb over your cheek. The fabric is rough against your skin, but you relax at the feeling anyway.

“You don’t have to.” He says quietly.

“I want to.” You insist, swallowing that swell of nerves. 

Now that his cock is bobbing in front of your face, you have to fight the sinking feeling that you’re in over your head. But you’re not willing to back down; not when you’ve been thinking about this all damn week, and especially not when you’ve got the man that stars in all of your fantasies sitting on your bed with his legs spread.

You shuffle forward a little, and try not to feel intimidated at the fact that Ghost’s thick thighs twitch when you reach to take hold of his cock. He’s so big that it feels like he’s dwarfing you beneath him, his bulky form enveloping you in shadow when he leans forward to make sure he has a good view of what you’re doing.

You stroke experimentally over his cock, your fist a little clumsy. Despite your frenzied and very pleasurable tumble with him before, you had never actually gotten the chance to touch him in return. You had been too overwhelmed by the sheer onslaught of sensation he had delivered upon you to even think about returning any favours, and the fact that you’re getting the opportunity now to reciprocate and explore fills your tummy with butterflies.

“Grip it harder, love.” He grunts, shifting his hips so that he can fuck his cock into your fist. “It ain’t gonna break.”

“Shh,” You admonish him, glancing up with a frown. “Let me do it myself.”

Ghost snorts quietly, probably finding your determination silly, but he still his hips and lets you go at your own pace. His dick is big, and you stare at it with some level of wonder as you stroke your fist over him. You can’t help but compare the feel of him to your dildos, only because they’re your only real point of reference; his skin is velvety soft and hot to the touch, yielding despite how hard he is, and you admire the slide of his foreskin pulling down over the crown. 

It’s not the size that really catches your attention though. No, what you really notice is how fucking perfect it is. Pretty and pink, flushed more red towards the tip, the head shiny with just a hint of smeared pre-come. It curves, slightly, to the left, and it feels nice in your hand. You feel a little light headed as your eyes dart over the pale blond downy hair that covers his thighs and the base of his cock. 

You gather your courage, then lean in and lick tentatively at the rosy pink crown of his cock. You had been a little worried about the taste, having no idea what to expect, but you needn’t have been. He‘s a little salty, but nothing inoffensive; he just tastes like skin, and you relax a little in relief.

He groans, his head tilting back to stare at the ceiling. You pause, hoping for some sort of direction, and as the moment stretches out he looks back to you and tilts his head.

“Thought you wanted to do it yourself?”

Bastard, you grumble in your head, before steeling yourself. You know that your grip on him is clumsy, that your stroking is unpracticed, and you can only pray that he doesn’t mind.

You take his cock into your mouth, jaw hinged wide as you try to avoid using your teeth, and attempt to suck with no finesse. You go too fast, try to take too much too quickly, because all of a sudden the head is tickling the back of your throat and you’re coughing, choking, and sputtering. 

You pull back, blinking rapidly as your eyes sting with tears and drool drips unattractively down your chin. You go to wipe your face, but Ghost catches your wrist before you can.

“Slow down,” He murmurs, pulling your hands away from your face so he can look at you. “You in a rush?”

“No.” You grumble, and your voice comes out a little hoarse from the choking. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Even though you’re quite certain that Ghost already knows that, it’s a little humiliating to admit.

Ghost just hums, his eyes tracking over your petulant expression and the stringy spit that’s trickling down your chin, falling in thick globs above your tits.

“Don’t matter, love.” He rumbles, reaching out to thumb at your chin. You think for a moment that he’s wiping you clean, but then he just ends up smearing your spit all around your mouth. “Play with it as much as you want to. Don’t think too much.”

You swallow, the sound a little too loud in the quiet of your room, before nodding. This is what you wanted – the chance to touch him, to explore his mouth with your hands and mouth just like he had done with you before.

You readjust your grip on his cock; it looks so stupidly big in your hand. You can tell that he notices too, because he lets out a gruff sort of groan before he reaches out, one hand winding around the back of your neck to cup at the base of your skull.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He breathes, his eyes locked onto you.

His eyes are dark, almost completely blacked out by the thickness of his pupil, and he stares down at you with an air of such anticipation that you couldn't dream of keeping him waiting. Gripping him in your hand, you give an exploratory sort of stroke — the skin is velvety soft and smooth, and he lets out a short groan of appreciation when your fingers caress the head of his cock.

You start moving your hand again, adjusting your grip and stroking him off. You wish you were better at it, or at least more confident, but Ghost doesn’t seem to have any complaints. He just grunts quietly, flexing his hips once before apparently remembering what you had said and going still.

It takes a moment before you work up the confidence to bring it anywhere near your mouth again, but finally you lean forward and press a gentle little kiss to the head of his cock. You’re rewarded with a quiet puff of laughter, and his thumb strokes a soothing circle into the back of your neck.

Encouraged, you dip your head and lick the tip of him properly. He tastes salty on your tongue as you take him carefully into your mouth. This time you just suckle at the head, not wanting to push yourself too fast. His taste isn’t nearly as strong as you had been expecting; you hardly notice, really, enjoying the weight of his cock on your tongue and the feeling of being encircled by his big thighs.

It sounds stupid and maybe a little paradoxical, but you feel safe like this; Ghost towers over you even sitting down, and when you’re on your knees for him like this with his thick thighs bracketing you and his clean musky smell in your nose, you swear you never want to leave this moment.

You let out the most pathetic little whisper ever when you suckle at his cock, your tongue licking insistently at the underside of his glans. Ghost is always fairly stoic beneath that mask (other than his occasional bursts of humour and arrogance), so managing to pull out the soft but heavy breaths from his mouth when you suck at him makes pride swell in your chest, warm and syrupy sweet. It also makes something else twist in your belly, tight and hot enough to have your thighs squeezing tight together.

You used to have so many stupid, virginal plans for what you’d do the day you got your hands on some real, non-plastic cock, but everything you’ve ever heard about dicks and oral sex immediately flies right out of your head. You have no technique, and all you do is suck, gracelessly, trying to get as much of Ghost in your mouth as you can. You’re making loud, embarrassing slurping noises, and you’re certain that you’re drooling.

Judging by the grunts above you, Ghost has got no complaints about your technique (or lack thereof). One of his big hands reaches down to cup your face, fingers probing, testing at your jawline as it works.

“Fuck,” He snarls, tilting your chin up so he can see the way your lips are wrapped around the tip of his massive cock, “Knew you’d be good at this. Look at you, messy little thing. Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

That makes you shiver, an electric jolt that shoots right to your clit. You’re not sure what feels better; whether it’s his fat cock in your mouth or the hot wanting intensity in his eyes or the low filthy praises he’s growling.

God, you want to be good at this. You’re definitely no natural, but you fight so hard to push past your uncertainty to make this feel good for Ghost. 

You’re pretty sure he’s lying about you looking gorgeous, though. You’ve never felt less sexy than you do in this moment. Your eyes are streaming over-stimulated tears, your brow is scrunched in concentration, you’re gripping onto Ghost’s thick thighs for both balance and emotional support, and it’s taking everything you have not to choke on him again.

Who the fuck gave him the right to have a cock like this? Complaining about it feels borderline blasphemous, especially when you have first hand experience of just how good he is at using it. You’re making a mess of yourself, slobbering all over him in a way that’s definitely a little gross, but you’re surprised by just how much you’re enjoying this. 

You get a little too eager, because you take him a little too far down your throat and gag. You pull off quickly, choking lightly and still gasping for breath. Maybe your brain is a little oxygen-deprived, because you feel stupidly hazy. 

You take a moment to recover, nuzzling dazedly into the curls of his pubic hair. Blond, of course. God, that shouldn’t be cute but it is.

The thick length of his dick might be intimidating (as proven by the ache in your throat right now), but the velvety balls nestled below seem almost paradoxically vulnerable. You’re fascinated by the sight of them; you might have been amateurishly familiar with cocks from your dildos alone, but his balls are entirely new to you.

You spend some time lavishing them with tiny licks and kisses. Ghost hums in surprised pleasure, the sound swelling to a rumbling purr when you start caressing his thighs and hips with a tender, shy touch. 

Encouraged by his reaction, you return to his cock. It’s jutting proudly up, flushed a lovely pink colour, as though it’s just waiting for your attention once more. It’s already covered in a lather of foamy spit from your attention before, and when you sink your mouth down on him once again you do so with a bit more confidence.

“Like a pro, baby.” Ghost grunts appreciatively. A calloused thumb rolls over your cheek, under the fan of your lashes, and wipes away the moisture that’s gathered there. 

You most certainly are not sucking his cock like a pro, but you appreciate the encouragement all the same. It’s nice to know that you’re not doing a horrific job, at least.

You spare a glance up, half-expecting Ghost’s eyes to be closed. Instead his gaze is avid, sharp, practically electric through that thin window of his balaclava. He’s watching you closely, taking in every detail like it all might be snatched away from him. It’s too intense, and you look back down, focusing on his dick again.

An outraged, possessive noise escapes you when Ghost forcibly tugs your head back, pulling his cock out of your mouth. It twitches a little once it’s been removed from the wet heat of your mouth, all shiny wet and pink, and you lick your lips. God, you want to get back on that, and you don’t understand why he’s taken it away from you.

Ghost lets out a low, breathy chuckle, reaching out to thumb at your spit-slick lower lip before reaching for your elbows and bodily hauling you back up onto the bed.

You practically bounce, falling back on the mattress and squirming to try and get your bearings again.

“No,” You say, and to your bewilderment it comes out on a sob. “I wanted you to come on my face–”

You can tell that Ghost’s expression does something strange beneath his mask because his eye twitches and he takes a deep breath. But he doesn’t put his cock back in your mouth. Instead he reaches back and pulls his shirt off, and you take a broken little inhale because last time he had fucked you, he’d hardly gotten undressed at all. But now you’re being blessed with the sight of scarred pale skin pulled taut over the thick swell of muscles that turn to a softer belly, that pale trail of curls starting just below his belly button. 

“Next time.” He says, and it comes out on the ghost of a groan. “Fuck, love, next time.”

He’s quick to hook his hands under your thighs and haul them apart. You just about have time to spread your legs before he’s muscling his way between them. He tugs impatiently at his balaclava, tugging it askew to reveal his mouth, then he presses his nose into your humiliatingly slick pussy and starts sucking at your clit like it’s a hard candy.

You shriek, your thighs clamping shut around his ears as you writhe, but he clearly has no intention of stopping. The muffled moans he lets out into your cushiony cunt vibrate in the best way, and he’s so brazen about it that it just about takes your breath away. You don’t even know if he can see anything, considering his mask is completely lopsided and his eyes aren’t lined up with the holes anymore, but he’s working with such enthusiasm that it doesn’t even matter.

And honestly, his enthusiastic pussy-eating combined with the sheer visual stimulation he’s providing is really doing it for you. 

You’re probably going to get a crick in your neck from the way you’re craning your head just to watch him hunch over you, that tongue of his peeking out from beneath the edge of his mask just to lick you. He’s built like a fucking god; thick muscles, soft tummy, and cushiony pecs. It might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh god, fuck–!” You choke out, your cunt clenching down hard as Ghost slides a finger into you.

Of course, Ghost’s fingers are also thicker than average. A single one of them feels like what would have been two of your own and you gasp a bit at the sudden stretch. You open up easily, your body welcoming him greedily and bearing down hard around his digits. Maybe it’s because you’re used to controlling the depth, speed and angle of penetration completely when you’re playing with your toys, but relying on Ghost for pleasure feels so damn exotic and exciting. Now you can only tilt your hips and go with Ghost’s pattern of movement; a bit harder, a bit deeper than what you would have done on your own.

He pushes another finger inside and it’s snug in your cunt, two fingers squished together nicely by your pulsing walls, hot and wet. It makes a sticky sound when he pushes them knuckle-deep, and then he sucks at your clit again, hard.

You’re honestly taken aback when your stomach tightens up and a wave of white-hot pleasure washes over you. Your back bows off the bed, you cover your mouth with a balled-up fist, your chest heaves. 

It’s exactly as good as you remember it being the first time, maybe even better, and the noises you make are broken and pathetic as you whine and cry.

Ghost licks you through it, big long laves of his tongue punctuated by sweet little suckles on your clit that feel almost fond. All you can do is lay there and take it, your head spinning a little as you catch your breath and try to figure out how the fuck he managed to make you come so damn quickly when you’ve been failing so spectacularly for a week.

You’ve barely finished coming, still shaking with the aftershocks, when he climbs up your body. At some point he’s shucked his trousers off, and the fact that he’s naked sends a little zing of excitement through your tired body. Or at least, as naked as Ghost tends to get. He’s still got the damn mask on.

He’s breathing heavily; his mouth is slightly ajar, mask tucked up around his crooked nose as he settles on his haunches between your thighs. He’s still staring hard at your cunt, his eyes glued to the way your clit is still twitching. He’s still so damn quiet, and you have no idea what he’s thinking.

When he reaches out to thumb at your clit again you whine. You’re sensitive, and his thumb is calloused and rough. You wiggle, lift up your leg and press your foot to his broad chest to stop him. You may as well be pushing against a brick wall for all the good it did.

Ghost just exhales a quiet laugh, capturing your ankle in his massive fist. He turns his head and kisses your ankle; the gesture is unexpectedly tender, and makes something in your chest tremble dangerously.

He uses his hold on your ankle as leverage to raise your leg, spreading your thighs out wide until your hips ache. You feel so exposed, the lips of your cunt parted ever so slightly, and he’s quick to press his cock against your still-twitching clit.

“Oh, look at her,” He breathes, low enough that you have to strain to hear. “Shite, she missed me, didn’t she?”

His hand is steady as he strokes his cock, dragging it through your sticky folds. The pretty pink head catches on your clit each time, and you let out a quiet whimper. Ghost doesn’t even notice; his eyes are zeroed in on your spread pussy, watching how you flutter around nothing.

“Fuck, she’s been waitin’ for me all week,” He coos, his cock notching at the entrance of your cunt and pressing in just enough for you to feel the stretch as his thumb rolls against your clit. “I know, baby, been waitin’ for you too.”

Jesus, you feel like you’re gonna die. You’re taking all these big deep shivering breaths, still trembling a little from your orgasm and eager for him to just fuck you already, but his filthy talk in your ear is sending you spiralling. You’re so wet it feels like you’ve sprung a leak; you can feel moisture running down your ass and under your thighs, and you burn with both mortification and desire.

Ghost presses his cock in a little further, and your back arches as you groan. Despite the orgasm and the fingering and the fact that you are so fucking aroused right now, the stretch is intense.

“Yeah, she’s beggin’ for me.” Ghost is still talking – at this point you think his words are meant just for himself, because they’re low and a little slurred, his eyes glassy as he stares at the way his cock spears through the slick folds of you. “Listen; it’s like she’s talking to me.”

For a second, you have no goddamn idea what he’s talking about. But then, in the silence, you hear the squelch of your drippy cunt as he squishes his cock against it in shallow little thrusts, barely even pressing the tip inside.

“Oh god,” You whine, high and needy. “Just– stop teasing.”

The bastard laughs, all low and gritty and a little breathless.

“It’s not teasing, lovie.” He says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your jawline. “You’ve been avoiding me for a week straight. I’m just reacquainting myself.”

Then he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a move so sweet that it honestly takes you aback. Every complaint in your head flies out the window, and you turn eagerly in an attempt to deepen the kiss. His mouth is so hot, his lips plush and hungry and a little salty. It occurs to you that you’re tasting yourself in his mouth, and your body draws up tight and tense in response. 

“Simon,” You breathe, intending to tell him to get a move on and just fuck you already, but you don’t even get as far as finishing the order.

He groans as though the sound of his given name is a signal, and before you know it you’ve got a huge wall of muscle hunched over you and around you as Ghost holds himself up by his elbows on either side of your head. You feel his cock prodding at the entrance of your cunt and your legs fall even further open, until your hip joints ache.

When he starts to push in, the stretch burns in a way that makes your mouth fall open as you choke on the air in your lungs. You’re wet and pliable and eager, your pussy sucking hungrily at Ghost’s dick in an effort to take him deep quickly, but you had almost forgotten what this felt like. You can’t stop the way your cunt tightens eagerly as he rocks in an inch.

He laughs lowly in your ear, has to swallow back a groan when you clench tight around him, “C’mon, stop pushing me out, darling.”

“Wait,” You gasp, reaching down to place your hand over his belly. “Wait, oh my god, you’re too big–”

His stomach muscles are tensed with the effort he's putting in to keep from rocking into you all in one go, and you spare a moment to admire his patience and his sheer resolve to make things good for you. But even though he’s obediently paused to let you catch your breath, he chuckles quietly at your reaction.

“It’s only the tip, baby.” He murmurs, cooing softly to you like you’re something easily spooked. “You’ve taken it before. This pretty little cunt of yours is so hungry, gotta let her have it.”

You nod, hesitantly. He’s right; he may be big, but you’d taken him before. Only last week. And you had been a virgin then. Well, technically. Not physically, maybe, since you’d long stretched out your hymen on your dildos, but mentally. Though at least last week you had stretched yourself out on your vibrator, and then Ghost had spent so long opening you up with his mouth and fingers.

Ghost rocks forward another inch, and the stretch makes you squeal like a fucking stuck pig. It’s mortifying. How the hell did he ever manage to fit that fat cock inside you?

You slap at his belly hard, writhing away. 

“No, nope, not gonna fit.” You wheeze.

Ghost pulls back, and you can read the disappointed slant of his mouth and he reaches down to grip the base of his cock. Now that you get another look at it, you take a deep breath. It’s still well-lubed with your spit and the pink cockhead is shiny with your slick. 

It’s big, but you know you can take it. You just… you need better leverage.

Your jaw clenches in determination. “I need to be on top.”

There’s a moment of silence as those words settle between you, as though Ghost’s brain is buffering. Then his lips start curving up into that semi-familiar smug smile, and he rolls the two of you over so that he’s laying on his back in your bed with you perched clumsily atop his thighs.

His cock juts up proudly, practically bobbing as it leaks prespend down his length. He settles back, folding his arms behind his head as he watches you – the position makes his biceps bulge in a way that is very appealing and also most likely unintentional.

“Go on.” He encourages, as hungry and wanting as you’ve ever heard him. “All yours, gorgeous.”

All yours, your brain repeats, the words echoing around your skull until you’re certain that your head is empty but for that. You want him so much it makes you feel dizzy.

You shuffle forward until your pussy is hovering over the blood-flushed head of his cock. The cute pink blush has started to darken into a red that looks painful, and you take a little breath at the idea of helping him out with his little problem.

You lower yourself down so that the tip of Ghost’s cock is lined up with your entrance and begins pressing in, stretching you wide and slipping in inch by inch. You gasp desperately as you’re speared open inexorably slowly, tears pricking your eyes as your mouth drops open.

Though you’re the one controlling the pace, it still seems overwhelming, all-encompassing. You can feel your cunt stretching wide and taut around the width of him, fluttering as Ghost groans in dazed appreciation.

You glance up at him, to see that his eyes are a little unfocused, missing the intensity that they’ve had all night. His gaze is flickering from the way your cunt is sliding down on his cock to your breasts to your face, so fast as if he’s trying to take it all in before it disappears.

His oversized hands come to rest on your hips, and you half expect him to pull you down impatiently on his cock. But he doesn’t, they just rest there as though he needs to ground himself. His stomach is tensed so tight you know that his abs will be sore in the morning, and to your delight you can see a lovely pink flush climbing across his lightly-haired chest.

You keep your eyes on his half-masked face as you slowly rock your way down onto the length of him, your breath occasionally hitching. Though he doesn’t rush you, you can feel the way his fingers twitch on your hips and the way his jaw grinds, and all those little tells only increase your excitement.

You’re so full you feel like you’re about to break in half, and Ghost’s gaze on you feels like a physical weight, but you don’t stop. You wiggle clumsily, trying to take him deeper and unintentionally pulling gruff groans out of him every time your body tightens.

Then, finally, you take him to the hilt. He groans, his eyes half-lidded as he watches the way your body sits perched on his lap, little tremors rocking through you as you adjust to his size inside. 

“That’s my girl.” Ghost says, and the praise comes out on the edge of a growl. “Fuck, it’s like you were made for me.”

Tingling heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over him as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system – you’ve never heard Ghost sound so soft and wanting.

One of his hands reaches between you, one big thumb settling right over your swollen clit. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.

“Would you have gone back to his quarters?” He asks, and the seemingly non-sequitur is too much for your dazed, cock-stupid mind to keep with.

“Huh?” You breathe, tentatively rocking your hips and moaning softly as his cock hits just right inside.

“The guy at the bar.” Ghost clarifies, his voice deep and a little irritated. “The one who was all over you. Would you have gone back with him?”

Oh, you think a little wryly. You should have known that he’d be a big possessive bastard.

“I don’t know.” You say, but you’re barely paying attention. You’ve started to rock for real now, and it feels good. Your rhythm is barely more than a slow grind – you think, distantly, that you should be lifting yourself up and down and fucking yourself properly, but grinding so that he hits deep and your clit rubs up against his pubic bone just feels so fucking intense.

“Waste of your time.” He grunts, his grip tight on your hips as he watches you hump lazily. “Jesus, look at the way you’re sucking me in. Cunt’s so fussy, she was just waiting for me.”

The worst part is, you think he might be right. You had been touching yourself every night this week, trying and failing to recreate the high he had brought you to. The touch just wasn’t the same, and no matter how close you got you just couldn’t fall over that damn ledge.

“Yeah,” You whine, hardly even aware of what you’re agreeing to. The sweet ache of the stretch has almost disappeared now, and you hump back onto his cock with abandon. Your chest is heaving as you pant, and you can feel your own body trying to suck him in further but there’s nowhere else to go because he’s filling you up so completely. 

You tip forward, grabbing clumsily at his shoulders for balance as your face smushes against the cushiony softness of his pecs. God, he’s so strong, it’s like your body weight is nothing to him – he just accepts your whole body leaning into him, humming in satisfaction.

Tentatively, you lift yourself up a few inches so you can ease back down. You repeat the movement a few more times, and then you’ve established a steady pace of fucking yourself on his cock. 

“Simon,” You gasp, and it comes out in a whimper that’s far more pathetic than you had intended. “Am I– am I doing good?”

He’s gritting his teeth – you can see the tense line of his jaw as he tilts his head back, watching your face as you bounce stumblingly on his cock.

“Like I said, lovie, you’re a natural.” He says, exhaling harshly through his nose. “Gimme a kiss.”

When you lean forward to kiss him, the angle shifts and all of a sudden he's hitting the spot that makes your knees go weak. Your thighs are already burning from the exertion of riding him, but you whine desperately.

“There.” You moan into Ghost’s mouth, the two of you sharing air as you pant against each other’s lips. “Oh god, please–”

The muscles in his thighs ripple as he lifts his hips to meet yours as you bounce down, and then all of a sudden he’s fucking into you from below. The strength in his hips almost bodily lifts you every time he fucks up, though you almost thwart his every thrust as you try to grind on him again, trying to get his cock to hit just right again.

Fuck, your legs are tired and your knees are aching, but you can feel that glorious build up in your tummy again. Ghost has taken over most of the heavy lifting now too; instead of relying on you to bounce up and down, he’s drilling into that one spot inside you that sends liquid heat shooting up your spine.

Your mouth is hanging open and you’re pretty sure that you’re drooling all over his lovely, soft chest, but it just feels so good. You don’t understand how he does this, how he makes it feel so good for you. You think, a little wildly, that maybe your cunt was made for him.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight,” Ghost grunts, and his chest rumbles beneath your smushed cheek. “Gonna come again for me, sweetheart? Go on, cream on me.”

You didn’t actually think you were that close to another orgasm, despite how good it feels, but maybe Ghost knows you and your pussy better than you know yourself because you feel yourself go tight and gushy, nonsensical gasping and babbling spilling from your lips. The soft squelching noises your pussy makes as his cock fucks up into you is obscene, enough to make your nipples go tight and tingly.

Then his thumb rolls hard against the swollen bud of your clit and you’re gone. You think you might actually scream, but it’s muffled against the now drool-covered expanse of his thick, bulging pecs. 

You let out a choked out wail as your orgasm rips through you like an electric shock, leaving you trembling madly in its wake. You swear you come apart completely, unravelling at the edges as you writhe in his lap, grinding wildly even as he continues to fuck you through it. 

You don’t get even a moment of reprieve, because Ghost keeps going through the waves of your orgasm. He pulls you up to kiss you, sloppy and dirty, and then starts thrusting for all he’s worth. You’re put in mind of bull-riding, and your thighs clench hard as you try to stay seated as he bucks against you.

It's the most unravelled you’ve ever seen him. Ghost is always cool and in control, always meeting everything with smug, arrogant confidence. To see him glowing with sweat, his mouth lolled open under his rumpled balaclava as he snarls and grunts and fucks into you like an animal feels like a drug so heady you know you’re already addicted.

This is not the lazy rhythm of before; he’s uncoordinated and frantic, kissing you hard and messy as he shoves his cock up into you so hard that you’re sure it’s going to leave a permanent impression inside you. Maybe that’s what he’s aiming for. You take it easily, split open and pliant and soft and wet.

You’re oversensitive and shivery, breathing hard and whimpering on every other thrust, but you don’t complain. It only takes a handful of thrusts before Ghost finishes with a bitten off snarl, his jaw clenching and head tipping back as he pulls you off him just in time for his cock to spurt several thick ropes of creamy cum between you. Most of it lands on your belly, dripping down onto your pussy like icing on a cake, but some of it spurts onto Ghost’s own soft belly too.

It makes a mess, but you don’t care. You feel so dreamy-floaty happy right now, your limbs floppy and rubbery as you slump down onto his chest. He catches you easily, and lays you down gently onto the bed. 

You grumble when he moves, but you remember this part from last time. You don’t bother opening your eyes; you know he’ll come back.

Sure enough, he returns within moments, and you feel a warm, wet cloth wiping at your belly and inner thighs. You part your legs, pleased with the feeling of being looked after. When you blink your eyes open again, you see that he’s pulled the mask back down to cover his lovely, talented mouth. You try not to be too disappointed over that. His eyeblack is smeared too; it gives the impression of total debauchery. 

“You alright, love?” He asks, and you realise that you’ve just been staring blankly at him.

“Yeah.” You mumble, stretching your body out like a cat. Now that you’ve been given a moment, you can feel all those little aches flare to life between your legs, around your hips, and up the base of your spine. You wince, but don’t complain.

To your delight, Ghost climbs back into bed with you. He’s a little too big for the standard issue frame, but you’re more than happy to roll on top of him and cuddle close to conserve space. He seems similarly happy to have you all laid out on his chest, because he presses his masked face to the top of your head and inhales slowly.

“Are you staying, this time?” You ask quietly. You think you know the answer after your conversation earlier, but you can’t quite help the little pulse of insecurity.

“As long as you’ll have me.” He says, low in the quiet of the room. His tone is thick with significance, like he’s talking about more than just staying the night, and his fingers are sure and steady as he traces absent-minded little patterns down the length of your spine.

You swallow, heart racing, and rest your cheek against his chest. The steady thump, thump, thump of his own heart soothes you, and you bite your lip. He’s so solid, reliable. You’d trust him with your life, with anything. 

You glance down, your eyes curiously seeking out his now softening cock. It’s laying in a bed of his blond curls at his crotch, and it looks so unthreatening when it’s flaccid. You admire the shape of it absently, feeling a little thrill of excitement at the sight of it. You can’t lie to yourself and say you don’t feel a little possessive, either.

“Are we dating now?” You ask quietly. You’re not able to look him in the eye when you ask it, so you keep your face turned down. You don’t think you could handle seeing his expression if his answer is no.

There’s a pause. His hand halts the sweet patterns he’d been drawing on your back.

“Was that a question for me, or my cock?” He asks. He seems to be aiming for his usual sort of dry humour, but his tone comes out a little guarded, as though he’s actually not sure.

You raise your head, stifling your insecurity, and make eye contact with him. Those pretty brown eyes, so warm when they’re looking at you like this.

“You,” You say.

There’s another pause, and then his hand starts tracing its way over your bare back again.

“Yeah,” Ghost says, and the corners of eyes crinkle. “Stuck with me now, lovie.”

[sttoru]

Could you do a scenario where megumis daycare teacher is hitting on y/n and toji and meg get really overprotective about it <3 love you parenting series sm

⟣ tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff. themes containing jealousy / protectiveness.

you were stunning. that much was known and evident to toji and others around you. your looks were captivating — however, you always seem demanded to deny that fact. even when you have a husband who reminds you of how good you look on a daily basis.

but with good looks comes male attraction; something toji greatly dislikes since you’re his wife. it isn’t like he’ll be mad at you about it — no, not at all. in fact, toji feels a surge of pride every time someone tells him how lucky he is to be your husband.

the thing is: he gets a little. . . too jealous and overprotective every now and then when the harmless compliments turn into blatant flirting.

“oi, megumi,” toji grumbles as he holds his son in his arms, looking out in the distance. specifically at you talking to megumi’s daycare teacher for a bit way too long to his liking, “ya see that? mommy’s being hit on right in front of us.”

the little boy stops chewing on one of toji’s hair strands, seemingly understanding whatever his dad had said. megumi lets out a small ‘oh!’ noise and stretches his arm out in your direction, pointing at you, “mama.”

you were too busy answering the questions megumi’s teacher asked you to even realise that your husband and son were looking at you from far away. toji’s menacing aura, however, only seemed to intensify the more you talked to that man.

“tsk. . . all right, kid—listen up.” toji narrows his eyes at the scene before putting megumi down on his feet, crouching down to be at eye level with the boy. he puts a hand on megumi’s shoulder and whispers a plan in a ‘baby-language’ his son could understand;

the two are being the perfect partners in crime right now (they always have been; since megumi’s birth to be precise).

megumi’s daycare teacher was telling you a fun story about what your son had done to which you politely laughed at. in that same moment you could feel someone tugging at your pants lightly — as if wanting to catch your attention,

“oh — hi, my baby.” your face lights up as you see megumi standing behind you. his big eyes were staring up at you, fingers curled around the fabric of your trousers still — not a clue of what he wanted of you,

you tilt your head to the side in slight confusion and when you wanted to crouch down to be at eye level, the little boy suddenly starts to scream and cry as if he just experienced something traumatic. when in reality, nothing in the current scenery had changed to provoke such a dramatic reaction.

“woah, woah, hey. .” you were startled by the sudden switch in megumi’s mood — his face going from a neutral expression to one of pure despair as he (fake) cried. not only you, but also the daycare teacher seemed to take a step back from the sudden screams echoing in the area.

you immediately pick megumi up and try to calm him down, not pressing him for answers on why he suddenly decided to have an-almost-mental-breakdown-like outburst.

another switch was flipped in the toddler once your attention was diverted from his daycare teacher to him and him only. your eyebrow raised at how easily megumi shut up and went from a state of distraught to one of content in your arms.

that’s when you glance over at your husband who stood near the exit of the daycare, leaning against the wall with his bulky arms crossed, a proud and smug grin on his face — his plan seemed to have succeeded. all credit goes to his son for succeeding in catching you off guard.

“damn, seems like the brat needed his mama’s attention, eh?” toji calls out with an ‘innocent’ shrug, snickering after that, “like father, like son — they say.”

it took you only a few seconds to realise that toji had probably asked megumi to catch your attention by faking to cry near you — knowing you’d drop anything to comfort your child at any time, no matter what you were doing.

“oh, you little . . .” you bite your tongue to refrain from scolding your childish husband out in public. you look down at megumi, seeing him stare back at you with happiness in his blue eyes. you certainly couldn’t be mad at him, “you. you’re lucky you’re cute, ‘gumi.”

you chuckle and kiss your son’s forehead, bidding the teacher farewell quickly (leaving him disappointed by the rushed ending of your conversation), before walking to toji.

megumi squirms in your arms and when you put him down, he instantly runs to his dad, expecting something in return for his performance. toji did seem to have promised him something in exchange for accomplishing his mission—

“papa! papa! candy!”

you raise an eyebrow as toji takes out a piece of candy from his pocket, reserved just for his son. toji was beaming with pride, ruffling megumi’s hair before handing him the delicacy, “here ya go. good job out there, kid.”

you roll your eyes, as that was the only thing you could do after walking right into their trap like that. as per usual.

the cherry on top was that your husband was mocking you like an annoying manchild on the way back home — recalling how worried you reacted when megumi successfully acted like he was crying.

megumi giggled along with his dad, leaving you entirely defenceless. at least you could laugh with them as well.

they got you good.

[aealzx]

_________________

Phantom Rogues (Prequel)

Next

_________________

“Would yOU PEOPLE JUST LISTEN!”

Danny’s exasperated anger was punctuated by a sharp ecto shotgun blast into the nearest tank the GIW had amassed. They were still trying to destroy the Infinite Realms, new agents having convinced the older ones that the Infinite Realms being connected to their realm was a hoax to keep them from following through. Jazz, Sam, and Tucker were all barricaded behind what remained of their equipment, so it was only Danny and Danielle who remained amidst this reality ripped in between the two realms that GIW’s stupid equipment had created. Yet once again Danny wasn’t able to continue his attack, getting cut off by a mostly startled scream from Danielle as they once again focused their fire on her. First it had been the humans of the team, now it was Danielle, and it was really starting to piss Danny off.

“Stop targeting her you sick bastards! She’s fourteen!” Danny belted, flying yet again between their weapons and Danielle, and blasting the cannon with a prolonged stream of ectoplasm to bend its course. They would soon shift it back to pointing at them, but at least that took a few seconds.

“So you claim. Yet the only thing it means for us is that she’s a liability for you. You’re the stronger one, but you’ll let your guard down for her. A pathetic imitation of humanity that may have won over the Fentons, but not us. We know you’re nothing but an imitation of humans made by nothing more than destructive residue.” That was Operative N, the new blood that had worked up the ranks. Danny liked to call him Nimrod.

“We’re not faking it!” Danny shouted back, feeling his voice crack with the desperate protest. “SOME ghosts are residue, but others are just as sentient and full of good emotions as humans are.” If only he could turn this stupid human into a ghost so he could see it too. But life, even stupid life, was too precious to waste just to prove a point.

“....Test run the experiment,” Operative N directed, unfazed by Danny’s outburst. The Operative next to him stepped forward as others to the sides of them started firing a barrage of ectoblasts their way. It was a distraction to keep their attention, Danny knew that. But Danielle still wasn’t as good as he was, and he didn’t miss the way the experimental blaster pulsed red instead of green. He couldn’t let Danielle get hit by that, so when she let out another yelped scream, getting hit by three ectoblasts, Danny flung himself into her when the other Operative took that as an opening.

The experimental blaster was faster than the originals, and Danny didn’t have time to bring up a shield after body slamming Danielle away. He could only tense in preparation for the damage, knowing he could handle more than Danielle could when it came to a beating.

He wasn’t ready for this.

The bloody red blast of energy wasn’t ectoplasm, and when it slammed into Danny’s chest his voice ripped from him in a startled scream of agony as he realized what they had done. The barbed wire poison splitting his ghostly skin held a familiar scorching dry flame feeling that he’d only experienced once before, a hand flying to his ribs as he crashed to the ground and couldn’t help curling into a ball, deaf to his friends’ and family’s cries for him.

Those freaks had weaponized blood blossoms.

It was worse than being trapped in a barrier of them, the poison now sank into his flesh instead of caressing it with noxious fumes. The fight wasn’t over though, so he willed his twitching limbs to work as he wanted them to, shoving them underneath himself to push himself upright, never mind the green blood dripping from his side.

“There we go,” Operative N commented emotionlessly, motioning with his hand to another Operative. “Use him now.”

That was the only warning Danny had before a clamp half his size snapped down on top of him, binding him in its case and pulling him from the broken ground. Danny let out a strangled noise as his arm was smashed against his injured ribs, legs scrambling to try and remain connected to the soil and feeling the anti ghost barrier keeping him trapped in the prickly bindings. It was only when he heard a slight click, and the fat needles poking into his skin started ripping energy from him that he vaguely remembered something about them using him as a battery for their machine. They obviously didn’t care how it treated him either, for Danny could swear getting electrocuted hurt less.

“Scream all you want, Phantom. Not even you could break out of there now that we’ve worn you down,” Operative N commented, having the audacity to sound bored.

Danny barely registered Danielle repeatedly sinking what power she could into the clamp that had a hold of him, but it didn’t seem effective. He hadn’t wanted to resort to blowing everything up, not sure what the machines would do to the realms they were connected to if they burst from overload.

But at this point he didn’t see any other option. If the realms were going to blow up, then he’d rather they blow up because he tried to save them.

If you want to hear me scream, then I’ll scream.

Danny’s defiant thought was accompanied by him forcing his mouth to snap shut, struggling with half stifled gasps to fill his lungs with as much air as they could hold. It took a minute too long, but as soon as he maxed out the air he could hold Danny forced it out again in a drawn out wail.

Jazz had expressed before that she hated hearing Danny’s ghostly wail. She’d even commented that the name itself seemed like a pathetic attempt to calm the fears of children when stories were told about it. As Danny’s abilities had advanced the wail became less of a B movie imitation of ghosts and more of a source of nightmares. A distorted sound of burst eardrum silence smothered by shrieking similar to subtle tinnitus, but with the undertone of the voices of those who had died screaming.

Jazz always heard her brother’s voice over the others.

This was the first time Danny had fully figured out how to make his wail non directional. An orb of earth shattering sound rippling in waves from his form, crushing the machines around them like sealed cans dropped in liquid nitrogen. The only reason his allies weren’t hurt was because the waves were strangely more gentle in their direction, just enough that Danielle could hold a barrier over them while they pressed their palms to their ears, collapsing to their knees.

The wailing only lasted slightly less than two minutes, but the chain reaction explosions continued for several more. As soon as the device holding him was broken Danny let out a ripple of ectoplasm to shatter it. Then soft coils snapped out and wrapped around his allies, dragging them closer to his floating form where he could raise a shield around all of them.

Sam took charge of shielding Tucker and Danielle with her own body as realm rending explosions thrashed their tiny bubble to and fro. Danny was able to keep them from being thrown against the sides of the barrier, but none of them could even attempt to stand with all the vibrations of varying intensities. Jazz stole as long of a look at Danny as she could since she couldn’t do anything else, feeling her heart skip a beat when she saw the hole punched into the left side of his chest, blast marks searing out from it to cover his shoulder and nick his cheek. All of the wounds were oozing the green blood Danny had as Phantom, but he didn’t seem to be paying them any mind.

Another sharp, shuddering jerk signaled the end of their whirlwind ride, and suddenly the group had perfectly still, solid ground under them and silence ringing in their ears. It was deafening, in a good way compared to the wail from before, and Jazz heard the others mimic her shuddering breaths. But before she could visually check on her brother she heard him fall. Nothing like the exhausted drops he did when he couldn’t quite make it to the ground before letting gravity take hold of him again. It was the heavy crumple of a human body being dumped. And as Jazz snapped her head up Danny’s face fell into her view, his eyes closed and figure completely limp. Jazz watched his cheeks drain from color as a new spot of red bloomed across his white shirt, and her voice refused to speak.

Scrambling to her baby brother, Jazz cupped a hand to his cheek, horrified at the rapidly dropping temperature of his skin and using her other hand to shake his shoulder as roughly as she dared. Her voice found itself in moments to scream what had been repeating in her head.

“DANNY!”

_________________

IIiiii am not immune to brain rot |D If you’re confused, good, I am too

Today my brain chose violence, and gave me some of the details of what led to the DP team getting ported to DC verse. So I wrote them while spamming the same 6 songs X’D And then I drew 2 pictures because I wanted both vibes.

This is getting way more attention that I even guessed might happen * wheeze *, so just a few disclaimers just so people are aware:

the DP crew are 2 years older than in the cartoon. because I can

Jack and Maddie are becoming really good parents. Because I’m tired of the “omg I’m a teenager and my parents suck” trope. They know Danny and Danielle are halfas, and it took them about a year to fully accept that. Now they’re rewriting studies to support sentient ghosts and more humane ways to deal with the violent ones.

It’s only in the recent months that they’ve started to actually study ways to help ghosts/halfas. So a lot of medical stuff for them is still unknown, but Jazz knows a bit more first aid than the average teen.

I’m not going to have romance at all. I find pushing the platonic boundaries way more fun and interesting. If you think it's romance, it's not.

I’m also more interested in Danny and Jazz’s sibling relationship than whatever either of them have going on with Sam and Tucker.

No update schedule. I follow the whims of my not normal brain.

_________________

Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @zeestarfishalien, @bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch

[keerysfreckles]

coming of age — MV1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!driver!reader

summary: in which a silly bet between the two redbull drivers becomes a reality when y/n wins the first race of the 2024 season.

warnings: not proofread, sorry for spelling mistakes!!

a/n: LET ME COOK ‼️‼️

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

ever since y/n l/n joined f1 in 2019, joining her best friends, lando norris, alex albon and george russell, her life flipped upside down.

she's been in four teams since her debut. she started in mclaren with lando in 2019, then got told the news carlos sainz would be taking her seat in 2020.

she then got moved to williams, which proved she deserved to be in a better car. she excelled as best she could with what she was given, securing the 10th spot in the drivers championship. but she wanted more.

so for the next two years y/n joined ferrari, alongside one of her formula one idols, charles leclerc. both ferrari drivers proved they earned their spots every year, until y/n got into a crash during an australian free practice. to put it lightly, she was forced to use crutches for the rest of the 2022 season. therefore at the end of 2022, she was told carlos would replace her for the upcoming years.

january 2023 rolls around, and y/n still didn't have a seat. however, a certain redbull driver had his eyes on her ever since she joined, watching as she made her way up the fornula one ladder. climbing each step in order to get to the podium, but not a win. the driver believed if she worked at redbull, she'd get that long awaited win.

so max verstappen had a plan. he spent the whole week trying his best to convince christian horner to take y/n in for the 2023 season. they needed a second driver anyway, and needed to announce it as soon as possible.

after days of constantly bothering the team principal, it was finally announced to the world that y/n would be joining redbull under a multi-year contract.

to say y/n excelled in redbull the past year would be an understatement. y/n was proudly on the podium nineteen out of the twenty-three races held. so close to the win, but always settling for second and third place.

y/n was done settling. she knew 2024 was going to be her year, and the pre season training was already going more than smoothly. both her and max were the fastest on track every day, with merely seconds between them.

from her first day in the redbull car, y/n and max had a bet going on; if y/n could win whatever race they were participating in that weekend, she'd have to kiss max. it started out as a small joke, but y/n couldn't help but wonder what max's lips would feel like on hers. would it be a quick kiss? or something more? all questions that wouldn't be answered until she won, and she was trying to do that here in bahrain.

it was a redbull front row, making the start of the race easy for both drivers. both pit stops went by smoothly, and their strategies were working wonders.

with only five laps to go, her race engineer spoke into her ear pieces.

"pace is still good, max is in front with 1.3 second gap," john spoke calmly, watching through the screens from the pit wall.

y/n replies shortly, before focusing back on the task at hand. every single race she's wanted to beat max, but this time felt much more real. maybe there was more adrenaline from the crowd, or maybe the car was going faster this year. whatever it was, she wouldn't know.

"gap .9 now, drs is enabled."

y/n pressed a button in response, turning on her drs as she passed down the straight. the muffled screams from the outside world seemed to get louder and louder as she got closer to the rear of max's car.

if she blinked, she would've missed the moment she finally over took her teammate. for a second, even she was confused.

"did we just pass max?" she asked john, her voice shaking slightly.

john chuckles into the microphone, "you did my dear. only two laps to go now, keep the pace."

y/n did as instructed. the world around her went quiet again as she saw the checkered flag, only a few feet away from her.

"y/n l/n wins her very first formula one grand prix! she wins in bahrain, making it a redbull 1-2 this evening!"

y/n instantly screams into her helmet, hearing the laughs and shouts from the pit wall and redbull crew coming out of the garage.

she slowed down for a cool down lap, waving and pumping her fist as she drove by the grand stands. max drove besider her now, giving her a thumbs up. he could practically hear the girls laughter and cheers from his own car.

y/n wasn't sure when the tears started to flow, but she kept wiping her face after taking her helmet off. as soon as she weighed in, she was running to the redbull crew waiting for her behind the barricades.

she yelled before being lifted into the air by the sea of navy blue. y/n was on cloud nine as she was being set back down onto the ground.

christian was waiting just outside the barricade, with his arms wide open.

"you stinker! i knew this day would come," he congratulates the girl, enveloping her in a warm hug.

the smile never leaves her face as the drivers come to congratulate her. max gives her a hug first, and y/n can't tell if he kissed her temple, or if she was just imagining it with all the adrenaline coursing through her.

lando was next, considering he got third, he was already waiting for her once he parked his car. he spun her off the ground, when the other 2019 rookies came running up to the pair.

a cameraman patted lando on the shoulder, gesturing for them to lift y/n up. he complied, as the three boys somehow lifted y/n onto their shoulders, posing as the shutters of the camera went off.

carlos and charles congratulated her next, both telling her how proud they were of her.

finally being able to sit in the middle seat in the cool down room felt unreal for y/n. putting on the winner's hat was more than enough, but sitting in between lando and max sealed the deal.

lando got to the podium first, with the mclaren crew cheering him on from the ground.

max was next, still with a big smile on his face, despite not winning the race.

finally y/n emerged from around the corner. y/n's heart swelled as the crowd below her cheered louder than anyone has ever heard it before. lando and max both held out their hands for high fives as she stood on the top of the podium.

she couldn't control the smile on her face as she recieved your first medal, and first formula one trophy. as anyone else wouldve done, she held the trophy low to the ground as the crowd below started to roar. once she lifted it above her head the crowd went wild once again.

she watched proudly as max and lando were handed their trophies, lifting them above their heads as well.

y/n basked in the bahrain sunset as the national anthem of her country played through the speakers. shortly after the austrian anthem played, while both her and max looked down to their team in awe. neither of them would be where they are today without them.

not even a second passes after the austrian anthem is over, and max and lando are ambusing y/n with their champagne. she laughs and screams as the cold alcohol sprays down her racing suit. she tries her best to spray max and lando, but can't help but continue wiping her eyes as a mix of tears and champagne fall down her cheeks.

as y/n's still wiping her eyes and the champagne in the bottles is almost empty, max takes her chin softly in his hand. she looks up at him, her heart starting to race again once she realized what her win means in terms of the silly bet the two drivers have.

y/n would've gladly payed a thousand dollars to see the look on everyone's face when max pulled her lips to his. still with her champagne bottle in one hand, she grabs onto max's bicep. making her realize he's really here and kissing her, and to keep her on her feet.

lando was the most caught off gaurd. he turned just in time after leaning down to grab his trophy. his eyes went wide as he watched the two redbu drivers.

the redbull crew all cheered, all silently hoping this moment would happen. they all knew about the longing glances between drivers, and how they got along so quickly when y/n first joined the team.

"finally a race winner," max mumbles against the top of y/n's head, kissing her hair. he wraps his arm around her as the two begin to walk out of the champagne covered platform. she waits for lando, pausing her and max's movements. once lando's by her side, she walks with both of them. her smile still never leaves.

after getting a group picture and video with the redbull crew, and probably taking a million pictures to post on the teams social media platforms, y/n and max go to their drivers rooms.

y/n facetimes her parents quickly, knowing how early in the morning it is for them.

finally changing into dry and much more comfortable clothes, a knock interrupts her thoughts.

"race winner looks good on you," max smiles after closing the door behind him.

y/n can't help but laugh, her smile growing once again.

"i can't believe it finally happened," she shakes her head. max sits on her sofa, watching as she packs her backpack.

"we all knew it would happen, it was just a matter of when," max states, causing a small blush to adorn y/n's cheeks.

"i hope you know i'm more than proud of you," max admits, fiddling with his fingers in his lap.

y/n zips her bag, not looking at the dutchman next to her, "yeah, the whole team seemed so." she laughs again at the thought of how happy the redbull garage was for the girl.

max chuckles, "no y/n, i'm saying i'm more than proud of you." he looks up at her now, meeting her eyes.

"thank you max," she smiles again.

before he can contemplate his own thoughts any further, he stands to walk out of the room. he rubs his hand on y/n's shoulder before exiting, "i'll be right out, so we can walk out together, yeah?"

y/n's lucky to catch max's attention just as his hand grabs the door handle.

"i'm surprised you stayed with your word, and kissed me today," y/n turns to face max.

he turns as well, still leaving a fair amount of space between the two of them.

he shrugs and y/n doesn't miss the slight blush on his cheeks, "well yeah, a bet's a bet. no one can back out of one."

y/n takes a few steps forward. the confidence could've been from the dying adrenaline, but whatever it was from, she was going to use it.

"so if it weren't for the bet, you wouldn't have kissed me?"

max chuckles, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. a stutter becoming more prominent between every word, "no, no i mean if it were a right time i would've kissed you. i just wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable, yeah?"

he continues stumbling over his words, causing the girl in front of him to giggle. his heart bursts at the sound.

"are you just going to stand there while i make a fool out of myself?" he asks, out of breath from rambling. his hands fall to his sides.

"i could," y/n states, watching max's smile falter slightly. "or i could just kiss you."

before max could get a proper response out, y/n leans up to press her lips against his for the second time that night. his hands instantly find their way to her waist, as hers hold both sides of his face.

"so if i won a race earlier, would i still have gotten a kiss?" y/n asks, just centimeters away from max's lips.

"screw just a kiss, we would've been a couple a whole lot sooner."

max cuts off y/n's giggle with another kiss.

the second kiss of many between the drivers.

[reidsflwr]

it’s been a long time coming ; spencer reid.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: back in high school you used to have a crush on spencer and now you got to work together.

warnings: nothing really but english isn’t my first language so it might have some writing mistakes (sorry) and i didn’t really like how i finished this so if you guys like i might write a second part.

Your first day at the BAU was a whirlwind. As the newest profiler, you felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. You had spent weeks preparing for this moment, but nothing could have truly prepared you for the reality of stepping into the office for the first time. The team welcomed you warmly, though you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the sheer brilliance of your new colleagues.

Spencer Reid, in particular, caught your attention. He was everything you remembered from high school: intelligent, slightly awkward, and undeniably endearing. Despite your attempt to stay composed, you felt the same fluttering nerves you had back then.

When Spencer introduced himself, you found it hard to maintain eye contact. “Hi, I’m Spencer,” he said with a friendly smile. “Welcome to the team.”

You managed a nervous smile. “Thank you, Spencer. It’s nice to meet you.”

Spencer’s smile widened, and he seemed eager to make a connection. “If you need any help with the databases or anything else, just let me know.”

You nodded quickly, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the day progressed, you tried to focus on your work, but every time you glanced at Spencer, your heart raced. You could tell he was making an effort to be friendly and supportive, but you were too nervous to engage with him properly. It was clear he noticed your reluctance but didn’t push it, giving you space.

⌢୨୧⌢

The days following your first encounter were a struggle. Spencer’s attempts to be friendly and helpful often ended in awkward silences. He would offer to explain things you might not understand or bring you coffee, but every time you tried to respond, you stumbled over your words or offered a rushed, one-word reply.

One morning, Spencer approached you at the coffee machine. “Hey, I’ve been reading this fascinating book on criminal psychology. Would you like to borrow it? I think you’d find it really interesting.”

You forced a smile, feeling the familiar flush creep up your cheeks. “Thanks, but I have a lot of research to catch up on.”

Spencer’s face fell slightly, but he quickly recovered. “No problem. If you change your mind, just let me know.”

Later that week, you found yourself alone in the break room when Spencer came in, carrying a stack of papers. “I noticed you were working on the same case. I thought you might need some additional resources,” he said, placing the papers on the table.

You took a deep breath, trying to muster the courage to speak. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and you quickly retreated to your desk, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration at your own behavior.

Despite Spencer’s best efforts to reach out, you continued to shy away, struggling to hide your feelings. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to interact with him; rather, every interaction left you more flustered than the last.

⌢୨୧⌢

The day came when Hotch assigned you and Spencer to interview the mother of a victim. You were grateful for the change of pace but also anxious about spending extended time with Spencer. As you drove together to the victim’s home, you focused on the task at hand, trying to push your nerves aside.

Spencer’s attempts to make conversation during the drive were met with brief, hesitant responses from you. “So, how are you finding the BAU so far?” he asked, his eyes occasionally flicking toward you.

You shrugged, feeling the weight of your own silence. “It’s… it’s good.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed. “You know, you seem a bit distant. I can’t help but wonder if I’ve done something to upset you.”

Your heart sank at his words. “What do you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been avoiding me,” Spencer explained. “Whenever I try to be helpful or friendly, you… well, you seem uncomfortable. I assumed maybe I did something wrong.”

Feeling a pang of guilt, you decided it was time to explain. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. Actually, it’s the opposite.”

Spencer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh? What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “Well, it’s a bit complicated. We knew each other in high school. We even had a few classes together.”

Spencer looked puzzled. “Really? I don’t remember you from high school. I think I would have remembered.”

You nodded, your cheeks flushing with a mix of nostalgia and embarrassment. “I actually had a crush on you back then and i guess now that we’re working together, those old feelings are resurfacing, and it makes me a bit awkward around you.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Wait, you mean you had a crush on me!?”

You nodded, a soft blush creeping onto your cheeks. “Yes, I did. I thought you were incredibly smart and cute. I was too shy to ever talk to you. I remember how you used to come into class with these fascinating books and how you were always so focused. I just thought you were amazing.”

Spencer’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “I was so awkward back then. I mean, I’m still a bit weird, but not as much, I hope. I didn’t think anyone would ever see me that way, especially back then.”

You shook your head with a smile. “No, I thought you were adorable. You were this brilliant, quirky guy who seemed to be in his own world, and I found that really endearing.”

Spencer looked at you, clearly flustered. “I had no idea you felt that way. I always thought you were avoiding me because you didn’t like me.”

You smiled reassuringly. “No, I just didn’t know how to act around you. I didn’t want to make things awkward.”

Spencer’s mind raced as he processed your words. “Wow, I’m kind of speechless. I never imagined…”

Before he could continue, you gently cut him off. “Let’s just focus on the interview for now. It’s important that we get this right.”

Spencer nodded, still processing the revelation. “Right, of course.”

As you both approached the victim’s mother’s home, the air between you felt lighter, charged with a new understanding. Spencer, though still surprised, was clearly intrigued and more attentive than ever. The tension that had once been present seemed to dissolve, replaced by a newfound curiosity and connection between you.

[itneverendshere]

rafe watching milo for the first time by himself. he probably woke up from his nap early while you’re in the shower . but it’s so cute to see rafe with him

this was so adorable to write😩 love writing little fluff moments for them 💘 thank you for the request! hope you like it🫂

don't you ever grow up just stay this little - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Rafe wasn’t the type of guy you’d expect to be spending his Saturday babysitting. And yet, there he was, sitting in the living room of your sister’s place, half-watching TV, half-watching the clock while you took a shower upstairs.

The plan was simple: you’d help your sister out by watching Milo while she worked her double shift, and he’d stick around because, well, he was practically glued to your side these days.

Milo was cool, though. For a little dude. He was into dinosaurs and trucks and had this way of talking about everything like it was the most important thing in the world. Rafe liked that energy.

Reminded him of when things were simpler, before his life became one long list of bad choices.

He glanced at his phone, checking the time. You said your shower would be quick, but it had been a little longer than that. He shrugged it off; you deserved a break. Plus, Milo was still down for his nap, and Rafe wasn’t about to wake him up early. He knew better than to mess with a sleeping kid—learned that lesson fast the first time he’d stayed over officially and Milo had woken up at 5 a.m., screaming about monsters. The sound of the shower running upstairs was the only noise in the house as he flipped through the channels, half-watching some random show.

Milo had been asleep for a solid hour, and he’d figured there’d be no problem keeping an eye on the kid while you got cleaned up. Easy enough.

He leaned back into the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. He was about to settle on some mindless reality show when he heard a soft creak from the hallway. He sat up, eyes moving toward the sound. The door to Milo’s room was cracked open, and a tiny figure stood there, rubbing his eyes, clutching a stuffed dinosaur. The kid looked half-asleep still, his hair sticking up in all directions.

“Hey, bud,” Rafe said, keeping his voice low so he didn’t startle him. He got up from the couch and took a step toward Milo, but stopped when the kid blinked up at him, confused.

“Autie in the shower?” Milo asked, his voice all groggy, like he wasn’t fully awake yet.

His bottom lip poked out, and Rafe could tell he was on the edge of either crying or just being pissed about being awake. It was a fifty-fifty shot with kids this age, right? At least that’s what he figured.

“Yeah,” Rafe replied, crouching down so he was on Milo’s level. “She’ll be down soon, don’t worry. You wanna sit with me until she’s done?”

The kid shrugged, his grip tightening on his dinosaur. Without another word, he waddled over to the couch and climbed up, his little legs struggling to make it without help. Rafe sat down beside him, giving him some space because you know, kids were weird about personal bubbles and shit, but keeping an eye on him just in case he decided to get all emotional.

Kids were unpredictable like that—one second, they’re fine, the next, they’re melting down over something random.

They watched the TV in silence for a minute, some kind of animal documentary playing now. He glanced over at Milo, who was wide-eyed as a lion chased down a gazelle.

“That’s crazy, huh?” Rafe said, nodding at the screen. “That lion’s fast.”

Milo nodded, still watching the screen with intense concentration. “Lions are kings,” he whispered, clutching his dino tighter. “But T-rexes were kings too.”

“Yeah? You think a T-rex could beat a lion?”

Milo turned to look at him like he’d just asked the dumbest question in the world. “Course! T-rexes are the strongest. Lions are just cats.”

Rafe laughed under his breath. “Fair point.”

He was something else. Fiercely opinionated and convinced of everything he said, even if it didn’t make sense. Halfway through a scene where a shark was doing its thing, Milo scooted a little closer, almost absentmindedly, and leaned into Rafe’s side. The kid didn’t say anything, just rested his head against him like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He froze for a second, not sure what to do. He wasn’t used to this. But then, instinct took over, and he relaxed, resting his arm on the back of the couch, careful not to make it weird. He could hear your voice in his head: "Just go with it, baby. Don’t overthink it."

So, he didn’t.

They stayed like that for a bit, the quiet sound of the TV and Milo’s soft breathing filling the room. Rafe wasn’t gonna lie—he kind of liked the weight of the kid leaning into him. It was...nice. Calming, even. He’d never thought of himself as the kind of guy who’d be good with kids, but Milo didn’t seem to mind him. Maybe he wasn’t as terrible at this as he thought.

“So, uh… that’s a pretty cool dinosaur,” Rafe said after a while, nodding toward the toy in Milo’s hands. He was trying to make conversation, but he wasn’t exactly sure what you talked about with a child.

Milo perked up slightly, looking down at his stuffed dino. “This is Rexy,” he said, his voice soft but a little more awake now. “He’s the strongest dinosaur. He eats meat.”

“Rexy, huh?” Rafe smirked. “Yeah, T-rexes were pretty badass. What else you know about ‘em?”

Milo's eyes lit up at the question, and Rafe knew he’d hit the jackpot. The kid went off on a whole tangent about dinosaurs, talking a mile a minute about everything from their teeth to their tails to how they fought each other. Rafe found himself listening, actually getting into it. It was kinda funny how into this stuff Milo was, rattling off facts like he’d spent years researching dinosaurs instead of being, you know, practically a fetus.

As they kept talking, he noticed that Milo was slowly waking up more, his energy coming back. He started squirming in his seat, clearly not content to just sit still anymore. Rafe figured it was only a matter of time before he’d want to get up and do something more active.

“Hey, you wanna play with your trucks or something?” Rafe asked, gesturing toward a pile of toys on the floor by the coffee table.

Milo’s face lit up. “Yeah!” he said, hopping off the couch without hesitation. He darted over to the pile, grabbing a couple of toy trucks and zooming them across the floor like his life depended on it.

He watched him for a second, then got up and sat on the floor beside him, not really sure what he was supposed to do but figuring he should at least pretend to play along.

Milo handed him a bright red fire truck. “You be the firefighter,” he said, very serious about it.

Rafe took the truck and rolled it across the floor, mimicking the sound of a siren. “Alright, I’m the firefighter. What am I supposed to do?”

Milo grabbed a dump truck and rammed it into a pile of blocks he’d built earlier. “You gotta save the cars! They’re stuck in the mud!”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “Mud?”

“Yeah, like quicksand mud,” Milo said, clearly making this up as he went along.

Rafe played along, pushing the fire truck toward the pile of blocks, doing his best to sound heroic. “I’ll save the cars.”

Milo giggled, clearly entertained by the whole thing. He couldn’t help but smile a little, too. It was stupid, but there was something fun about just letting go and playing make-believe for a minute. He hadn’t done something like this since he was a kid himself, and, honestly, he’d forgotten how much fun it could be.

They kept playing for a while, Rafe getting more into it as Milo directed the whole operation, barking out orders like a little drill sergeant. At some point, he ended up being both the firefighter and the dump truck driver, while Milo decided he was in charge of the bulldozer that was “fixing the road.”

“Alright, we gotta clear this mud,” Rafe said, pushing his fire truck through the blocks again.

“No! Wait!” Milo interrupted, holding up his hands dramatically. “The T-rex is coming!”

Rafe blinked. “The T-rex? I thought we were saving cars?”

Milo shook his head, eyes wide. “No, now we’re fighting the T-rex! He’s coming to eat the cars!”

He chuckled under his breath but didn’t argue. “Okay, if you say so.”

Just as the two of them prepared for their imaginary battle with the T-rex, you finally made your way downstairs, your hair damp from the shower and a soft smile on your face when you spotted the two of them on the floor. Rafe glanced up at you, feeling a little caught, but you just smiled wider, eyes glimmering with that look you always gave him when you thought he was being sweet, even if he was trying to act like he was a tough guy.

“Looks like you boys are having fun,” you teased, leaning against the doorway.

Rafe glanced up at you, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, we’re, uh... saving cars from mud. And dinosaurs. Apparently.”

Milo joined, grinning. “Auntie! Rafey’s the firefighter! He’s really good at it!”

You laughed softly, clearly enjoying the sight of your boyfriend— brooding Rafe Cameron—playing trucks with your nephew. “I see that,” you said, sitting down on the couch and watching them.

He stood up, brushing off his jeans like he hadn’t just spent the last half hour pushing toy trucks around. “Don’t get used to it.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, I won’t. I’m sure this is a one-time thing.”

Milo looked up at Rafe, clearly not ready for the game to end. “Can we play more, Rafey? Please?”

He sighed, looking at you for help, but you just shrugged, clearly amused by the whole situation.

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Rafe muttered, sitting back down on the floor. “But next time, I’m picking the game.“

“Can we go to the park tomorrow?”

He sighed, not having the heart to shut the kid out, “Fine.”

You leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “You’re doing great, baby.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, but deep down, he didn’t mind. Not really. Because, yeah, maybe this wasn’t what he’d imagined doing with his Saturday. But being here with you and Milo? It felt... good.

He sat there, watching Milo zoom his trucks across the floor with intense focus, and yeah, he was in it now. It was weirdly nice, playing along, even if he had no clue what he was doing half the time. But then, as he glanced up at you sitting on the couch, grinning like you were watching the best show in town, something hit him.

He’d go to the end of the world for you.

He leaned back on his hands, eyes flicking up to meet yours. You gave him a sweet smile, one of those looks that told him you were proud of him—proud of this version of him. He'd done a lot of stupid shit in his life, but being here, with you? That didn’t feel like one of them.

He smirked, letting out a low chuckle. “You keep lookin’ at me like that,” he teased, his voice dropping just enough to make you pay attention, “and ’m gonna give you a baby of your own.”

Your eyes widened a little in surprise, and you laughed, shaking your head. “Rafe,” you tried to scold him, but he could see the way your cheeks flushed, and he knew he’d hit the spot.

“What?” he shrugged, his grin widening. “I’m serious.” He gave Milo a quick glance before his eyes settled back on you. “You look at me like that, and I start thinkin’ about it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face didn’t fade. “You can’t just say stuff like that while you’re babysitting.”

 “Why not? You think I wouldn’t make a good dad?” There was a playful glint in his eyes, but there was something real underneath it too. He didn’t have to spell it out. You knew about his dad—about how Rafe had grown up in the shadow of someone who cared more about money and power than being a dad.

You bit your lip, glancing at Milo, who was too absorbed in his trucks to notice, then back at him. “I think you’d surprise yourself.” You reached out, gently brushing your fingers along his arm.

 “Yeah,” he murmured, more to himself than you. “I think so too.”

[leona-hawthorne]

AURORA / mattheo riddle

requested / part 2

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: in the aftermath of the second wizarding war, mattheo is sent to azkaban for his crimes. when released and faced with the harsh reality that you had, unbeknownst to him, had his child and had been raising her alone all these years, he falls apart.

based on this lovely request right here!! @isntthatsweetiguessso sorry for taking literally a month bb ily and this brilliant concept

warnings: angst, mom!reader, dad!mattheo, swearing, sad but happy ending!!

words: 4.6k

a/n: so sorry to the person who requested it for taking so long :( i hope this is something like what you had in your head. its very long, fluffy part 2 is out now!

navigation mattheo riddle masterlist part two

The world outside Azkaban had always felt like a distant memory to Mattheo. The walls, the cold, and the constant torment of his own mind had been his reality for six long years. But now, walking the streets of Diagon Alley as a free man, the memories felt sharper, more painful. He had imagined this moment so many times—stepping back into the life he'd left behind, finding you, and maybe, just maybe, picking up the pieces of what you two had.

But nothing could have prepared him for this.

It was supposed to be a simple walk—an aimless stroll to ground himself, to remind himself that he was no longer trapped in that hellhole. But as he turned the corner, there it was: Brews and Stews. The same café you both used to sneak away to when the world got too loud. His heart clenched at the sight, and before he knew it, his feet were pulling him closer, as if some invisible force was guiding him back to the past.

Then he saw you.

You were sitting at one of the outside tables, sunlight bathing you in a warm glow that made you look almost ethereal. His heart stuttered in his chest as he stood frozen on the cobblestone street, staring at you like a man starved. Six years, and you were still the same. Beautiful, captivating. You were reading a book, the furrow of your brow as mesmerizing as ever.

For a moment, he considered turning back. He didn’t belong here. Not anymore. You had probably moved on; you had to. Six years was a lifetime. But just as he was about to retreat, the small figure next to you caught his eye.

A little girl, her brown curls bouncing as she laughed, sitting beside you at the table. She was a blur of motion—happy, full of life.

"Mama, look!" the child giggled, holding up a small trinket, her voice full of excitement. "Isn't it pretty?"

You smiled, reaching over to stroke her hair, and that’s when Mattheo felt the world collapse around him. Mama. The word echoed in his head, ripping through his chest like a knife. His stomach twisted painfully as he watched the scene unfold before him.

You had a child.

For a split second, his mind couldn’t process it. A child. A little girl. With you.

His heart thundered in his chest, and his fists clenched at his sides. It wasn’t possible, was it? You had moved on. Of course you had. Six years was too long for anyone to wait, especially for someone like him—a man who had done unspeakable things, who had been imprisoned for it. Why would you wait for him? And yet, the thought of you with someone else, of you having a family, was enough to suffocate him.

He took a shaky step back, the weight of the realization crashing down on him. He wasn’t ready for this. He hadn’t prepared himself to see you like this. But just as he was about to turn away, you glanced up.

Your eyes locked with his, and the world seemed to stop.

"Mattheo?" Your voice was a breathless whisper, as if you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. The expression on your face shifted from shock to something else—something he couldn’t quite read.

His breath caught in his throat as he stood frozen, every muscle in his body tensing. You were staring at him, those eyes he had dreamed of every night in Azkaban now filled with confusion, and something else... regret, maybe?

But then the girl looked up too. She had your eyes, but the rest of her—the wild brown curls, the soft slope of her nose—it was like staring into a mirror. She had his features.

He couldn’t move. His gaze flicked between you and the girl, heart hammering in his chest as his mind screamed for answers. The question hung heavy on his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask it.

"Come on, Aurora," you said quickly, standing up and gathering your things. Your voice wavered, the panic evident as you scooped the girl into your arms. "We have to go."

You brushed past him without another word, holding the little girl tightly as you hurried away from the café. His body moved instinctively to follow, but his feet were rooted to the spot. He watched you walk away, the weight of the unanswered question heavy in the air.

Aurora looked back at him once, her big, curious eyes staring into his, and then she was gone, disappearing down the street with you.

He stood there for what felt like hours, his mind spinning. That girl—Aurora. She was his. He could see it now, clear as day. He could feel it. The brown curls, the shape of her face, the way her eyes had stared at him with that same intensity he’d seen in his own reflection.

His daughter.

The realization slammed into him, nearly knocking the wind out of his lungs. How could you not have told him?

With heavy steps, he set off down the street, following the path you had taken. His heart pounded in his chest, each step bringing him closer to the confrontation he had dreaded but needed. He wasn’t sure what he would say, wasn’t sure how you would react.

But one thing was clear: he wasn’t going to lose you again. And he wasn’t going to lose his daughter. Not after everything he had already lost.

Mattheo’s heart pounded in his chest as he strode through the narrow streets, the weight of what he’d just seen pressing down on him with every step. The world felt suffocating, spinning around him in a blur of emotions—anger, betrayal, heartbreak. His hands shook at his sides, clenched into fists as he tried to keep his mind focused on the only thing that mattered now: finding you.

You couldn’t have gone far.

Aurora. Our daughter, the thought kept repeating in his mind like a relentless drumbeat. His daughter—his little girl, and you had never told him. He hadn’t known, hadn’t been there for anything. The rage simmering inside him was barely contained as he searched the crowd, every face blurring together until he finally saw you, ducking into a quieter street with Aurora still in your arms.

His legs moved before he could think.

“Y/N!” His voice was a shout, desperate, raw. You didn’t stop. “Y/N, stop!”

You glanced over your shoulder, eyes wide with panic, but you didn’t slow down. Mattheo’s breath was ragged as he pushed through the crowd, forcing his way closer. He wasn’t letting you run from this. He wasn’t letting you run from him. Not again.

Finally, you reached a quiet alleyway, and Mattheo caught up to you just as you were fumbling with your wand, trying to Apparate. His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

“Mattheo—” you started, but he cut you off, the fury burning in his chest.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” His voice boomed through the narrow alley, raw and loud. “Is this what I think it is, Y/N? Is that my goddamn kid?”

Aurora flinched at his raised voice, her small body shrinking into your arms. You immediately shifted her to your other hip, turning her face away from him.

“Mattheo, not here,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced down at your daughter. “Please.” And the first conversation you’re having after six years is going to be an argument.

“Not here?” he spat, eyes blazing with fury. “That—That’s my daughter,” he sputtered. “You fucking kept my daughter from me. Don’t tell me to calm down.”

You winced at the venom in his voice, but you didn’t move, your eyes pleading with him to lower his voice. “You don’t understand. Let’s just talk about this. I didn’t know how to—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he repeated, louder this time, his voice trembling with rage. “You didn’t know how? You knew damn well how to keep her from me! You didn’t even try, Y/N.”

“I…” You hesitated, the guilt written all over your face, but Mattheo wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” he forced out, the pain bleeding into his voice now. “I fucking rotted in Azkaban for six years, thinking I had nothing left. And all this time, you had her? I—I had a kid? ”

Aurora shifted again in your arms, and Mattheo’s heart wrenched as he saw her big, curious eyes peek out from beneath your hair. She didn’t know him. She had no idea who he was, and that realization broke something inside him.

“How could you?” His voice cracked, his eyes burning as he stared at you, searching for some explanation that would make any of this hurt less.

You closed your eyes, breathing deeply as if steadying yourself before meeting his gaze again. “I didn’t know what to do, Mattheo,” you said softly, the edge of panic still there but buried beneath layers of hurt. “You were in Azkaban. I didn’t think you’d ever get out.”

“That’s bullshit!” he snarled, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair. “You could’ve written. You could’ve found a way! You could’ve let me fucking know I had a daughter!”

Tears welled in your eyes, your lips trembling as you looked away, the guilt eating at you. “I… I was scared,” you whispered, barely audible over the sound of his labored breathing. “I was scared she’d grow up without you. That she’d grow up knowing what you were forced to be… and I didn’t want that for her.”

Mattheo’s chest heaved with the weight of your words, but it only stoked the fire of his rage. “That’s not your decision to make, you had no right to keep her from me!”

You blinked, tears spilling down your cheeks as you clutched Aurora tighter. “I didn’t do it on purpose. You weren’t here. You literally couldn’t be here. I was trying to protect her—”

“From me?!” he shouted, the words scraping from his throat like broken glass.

Aurora’s tiny whimper cut through the air like a knife, and Mattheo’s heart shattered. He hadn’t meant to scare her, hadn’t meant to let his anger bleed into his voice, but it was too late now.

You stepped back, rocking Aurora gently in your arms, trying to soothe her as you looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Mattheo.”

“Then what the fuck were you trying to do?” he spat, his voice low now, hoarse with emotion. “Because it sure as hell feels like you didn’t give a shit about what I’d feel. I missed everything. Everything, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched, and the weight of his words settled over you like a blanket of regret. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” you whispered. “I didn’t know if I could. And by the time I thought about it, too much time had passed. I thought… I thought maybe it was better this way.”

Mattheo let out a bitter, hollow laugh, his eyes wild as he stared at you. “Better? Better?! How the fuck is this better? I lost all six years of her goddamn existence! Six years! I didn’t get to see her first steps, didn’t hear her first words, didn’t even know she existed. And you think that was better?”

You sobbed, clutching Aurora close to you as if the little girl could shield you from the onslaught of his anger. “I’m sorry,” you cried, your voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Mattheo.”

But sorry wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to undo the years of pain, the years of loneliness and anguish he had endured in that cell, thinking he had lost you, lost everything.

He took a deep, shaky breath, forcing himself to look at the little girl—Aurora. His daughter. She was watching him now, her big eyes wide and confused, her small fingers gripping your shirt. She looked so much like him.

“Aurora,” he said, his voice a broken whisper.

She blinked at him, tilting her head slightly as if she didn’t understand why he was looking at her that way. Of course she didn’t. She didn’t know him. He was a stranger to her. And that hurt more than anything else.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Mattheo whispered, his voice barely audible now. “You kept her from me.” He shook his head, tears of his own threatening to spill over. “You took everything from me.”

You wiped at your eyes, shaking your head. "I didn’t want her to grow up around this—around what we were part of. I didn't want her to know the darkness.”

“But that darkness is a part of me, Y/N,” Mattheo snapped, his voice breaking. “It's who I am. I can’t escape it, no matter how much you want to pretend it’s not there. And you—you kept my baby from me because of it?”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of your decision hanging between you. “I made a mistake, Mattheo. I thought I was doing what was best for her.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and for the first time since you’d left the café, Mattheo’s anger began to ebb, replaced by something even more painful—regret.

Mattheo stood frozen, his chest heaving with the weight of all that had just transpired. His gaze shifted between you and Aurora, trying to piece together the shards of the life he thought he’d lost. His anger still simmered beneath the surface, but as he watched you, tears streaming down your face, and saw Aurora clinging to you with wide, confused eyes, something inside him softened.

But the more he looked at you, standing there with Aurora in your arms, the more the anger started to unravel into something deeper, something rawer.

Because it wasn't just about Aurora. It was about you. You, the woman he'd loved so fiercely before everything fell apart. The woman he had held onto in the darkest hours of Azkaban, when hope was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind.

He had missed you— fuck, he'd missed you— and now you were here, standing in front of him with his daughter. And as furious as he was, as shattered as he felt, that love hadn't gone anywhere.

He hadn't seen you in six years, but you still made his heart race in ways he couldn't control.

“Y/N,” he whispered, the anger in his voice beginning to crack, replaced by a deep, aching sadness. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

"I used to run my fingers through her hair every night," you whispered suddenly, your voice cracking as you glanced down at Aurora's curls. "Because she has your curls. And it made me feel closer to you."

Those words hit Mattheo like a punch to the gut, his chest tightening as the reality of it all began to sink in. You hadn't forgotten him. In all those years, despite everything, you had tried to keep a part of him with you-through Aurora.

He swallowed thickly, his throat constricting. "Why didn't you write me?" he asked, the question soft now, almost a plea. "I could've—hell, I don't know what I could've done, but I would've known. I would've been there in some way. Anything but this."

You sighed, wiping another tear from your cheek. "I didn't think you'd ever get out. I thought..." You took a deep breath, struggling with your words. "I thought it'd be easier if she didn't know. If you didn't know. And I was wrong. I see that now."

He falls silent for a while, his eyes trained on the beautiful girl in your arms.

“She’s really ours?” Mattheo asked, his voice softer now, though the tremor of rage still lurked. “That’s her name? Aurora?”

You nodded, wiping at your cheeks as you pressed a kiss to Aurora’s head. “Yes,” you whispered. “That’s her name.”

Mattheo let out a shaky breath, his heart clenching at the sound of it. Aurora. His daughter. Aurora’s wide eyes met his, so innocent, so big and full of wonder, but also a little shy, hiding in the safety of your arms. She didn’t know him. How could she?

His heart broke even more.

“Well, you do look like quite the princess,” he murmured, his voice soft and careful as if speaking any louder would scare her away.

Aurora’s brow furrowed, still unsure, but Mattheo could see the curiosity shining in her eyes. She stayed pressed against you, her small fingers clutching your shirt.

“Mama,” she whispered, looking up at you, her voice trembling. “Why are you crying?”

Your breath caught as you tried to answer, but words seemed to fail you. Instead, you simply stroked Aurora’s hair, trying to steady yourself. Mattheo watched, helpless, as Aurora’s small hand reached up to touch your cheek.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m just—just a little sad, baby.”

Mattheo could feel the weight of everything pressing down on you both. He had a million questions, a million things he wanted to yell, but none of it would make sense right now. Not with Aurora watching, her innocent eyes darting between the two of you, trying to make sense of something so much bigger than her little world had ever allowed.

“Who is that, Mama?”

"Remember when you asked me where your Daddy was and why he wasn't here?" you whispered to Aurora, your voice shaking as you cradled her close. "Remember how I told you your Daddy loved you, and that he'd find us one day?"

Aurora’s gaze flicked back to Mattheo, her little forehead creasing in confusion.

“That’s him, sweet girl,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “That’s your Daddy.”

Mattheo’s breath caught in his throat as those words hit him like a tidal wave. That’s your Daddy. For all these years, that’s all he should have been—her father, her protector, her everything—and instead, he was a stranger. He blinked back the sting in his eyes, trying to keep himself together for her sake.

Aurora’s little fingers clung tighter to your shirt as she processed what you’d said. She looked back at Mattheo, her eyes wide and uncertain.

Mattheo’s heart ached with the silence, with the lost years that could never be undone. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, but he knew he couldn’t—at least, not yet. She didn’t know him, and that hurt more than anything else.

You looked down at Aurora, gently prying her small hands from your shirt before setting her down on the ground. “It’s okay,” you whispered softly. “You can say hello.”

Aurora hesitated, her little body leaning toward you, and then slowly, cautiously, she moved to hide behind your legs. Mattheo’s heart squeezed painfully at the sight of her shy little face peeking out at him. His own daughter was scared of him.

He crouched down to her level, making himself as small as he could, hoping it would make him seem less intimidating. He had no idea how to be a father, no idea what to say to this little girl, but he had to try.

“Hey there, Aurora,” he murmured softly, trying to keep his voice gentle, steady. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She didn’t respond, just kept her wide eyes on him as she clung to the back of your leg. Mattheo’s heart shattered further, but he swallowed hard, forcing a shaky smile.

But Aurora, as shy as she was, was still a child. And as she looked at him again, her small voice broke the silence. "Are you really my daddy?"

Mattheo's throat tightened, the words lodged there, unable to come out. He was scared—terrified, really— of what to say, of how she would react. But he nodded, his voice breaking as he whispered, "Yeah. That's me."

Aurora stared at him, her eyes big and full of questions, her small hands clutching onto your shirt as if grounding herself. But after a long, silent moment, she seemed to relax, her lips parting into the tiniest smile.

"I always wanted one," she said softly, her voice full of innocence. "All my friends at school have daddies. I wanted one too."

His chest ached. He was the stranger here, and yet, in her little mind, he was still the man she had been waiting for. The man you had told her would one day come for her. He could see it— the confusion, the shyness— but there was something else in her eyes too.

She'd been missing him. She just didn't know who he was.

Mattheo's chest ached, the guilt and sorrow clawing at him from the inside. "I wanted to be there," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I wanted to be with you, with both of you. I didn't know."

Aurora looked at him for a moment longer, and then, to Mattheo's shock, she smiled a little wider, still shy but no longer fearful. She reached out tentatively, her small hand gripping his for the first time. The warmth of her touch sent a wave of emotion crashing through him, and for the first time since seeing you again, something inside him shifted. Maybe this wasn't all lost. Maybe he hadn't missed everything.

Aurora giggled softly, her small hand still wrapped around his. She brought her other hand to his face, pressing her palm to his cheek. "You're my daddy," she said again, as if testing out the words.

Mattheo's throat tightened, tears stinging his eyes as he smiled-truly smiled-for the first time in what felt like years. "Yeah, princess," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm your daddy."

Aurora's little laugh was music to his ears, and when she finally released his hand, she took a step back, hiding behind your legs again but peeking out from around you with a shy grin.

“You know, when I look at you…” He trailed off, his throat tightening as he swallowed down the lump that had formed there. “I see so much of your mum in you. But I see me too.” He let out a soft, shaky laugh, blinking through the tears that threatened to spill. “You got my curls, huh?”

Aurora’s wide, curious eyes flicked between the two of you, her tiny fingers gripping the fabric of your pants. Mattheo felt a surge of protectiveness, an instinct that told him to reach out, to hold her, to assure her that everything would be okay. But he hesitated, unsure if he even had the right to touch her after all this time. She had been a stranger to him just moments ago, and now… now she was his entire world.

Her small voice broke the silence again, tentative but filled with the kind of honesty only a child could muster. “Do you love my mama?”

Mattheo’s heart lurched at the question. His gaze snapped to you, meeting your teary eyes. The question hung in the air, heavy with expectation. You quickly glanced away, biting your lip as you tried to keep your composure.

Aurora blinked up at him, waiting for an answer. “All my friends’ parents love each other,” she continued, her voice soft, innocent. “They kiss and hold hands. Do you love her?”

Mattheo’s throat tightened, and he felt his pulse quicken. How could he even begin to explain the depth of what he felt? The years apart hadn’t dulled it—if anything, the ache had only grown sharper. You had been his world before Azkaban, and every lonely, torturous day behind bars had been filled with memories of you, of your laugh, your smile, the way you used to look at him as if he was the only person that mattered.

He had loved you then. He loved you still.

But now, standing before you, the mother of his child, the weight of everything left unsaid between you was crushing.

He swallowed hard, his gaze shifting back to Aurora. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I do.” Mattheo’s eyes softened as he glanced at you again, his heart aching with everything he wanted to say. “I’ve always loved her,” he admitted, his voice low but firm. “I’ve never stopped.”

You looked at him, your lips trembling as another tear slid down your cheek. You were trying so hard to be strong, but the years of separation had taken their toll on both of you. And now, with Aurora standing between you, the bond that had once been so unbreakable felt fragile, like it could snap at any moment.

Aurora, still holding onto your pants, tilted her head, watching the two of you with that same curiosity. “Mama,” she said softly, “why are you crying again?”

You let out a shaky breath, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “I’m okay, baby,” you whispered, brushing a hand through her hair in a soothing gesture. “It’s just… a lot.”

Mattheo stood up slowly, running a hand through his curls, trying to compose himself. He felt a swell of love for you, something he had been suppressing in his anger. You had raised this beautiful little girl all on your own, carrying the burden of their absence in silence. You had done it for Aurora—for him. And even though he was furious that you had kept it all from him, a part of him understood. You were protecting her, protecting yourself.

He took a deep breath, his voice soft but unsteady as he spoke again. “I missed everything,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “Her birth, her first words, her first steps... all of it. I wasn’t there.”

You flinched, guilt flashing across your face. “Mattheo, I—”

“No,” he cut you off gently, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to blame you. I just… I missed it all. And I don’t know how to make that right.”

Aurora, sensing the tension, leaned into you, her arms wrapping around your leg. “Mama, is Daddy staying with us?”

Mattheo’s heart clenched at the word. Daddy. He had never thought he would hear it—never thought it was even possible. But now, hearing Aurora say it so casually, so innocently, it hit him all over again. This was his daughter. His family.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, crouching down again to her level, his voice gentle as he tried to meet her eyes. “I’m going to be here. I’m going to make it right, okay?”

Aurora blinked, processing his words, and then her lips curved into a small, shy smile. She still seemed a bit confused, but there was a trust forming, something fragile but real.

She looked up at you, her tiny voice full of hope. “Does Daddy love me too?”

You sucked in a breath, your eyes flicking to Mattheo, waiting for him to answer. His throat tightened, but he didn’t hesitate this time.

“More than anything,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he held her gaze. “I love you, Aurora. I loved you before I even knew you were here.”

[silveryclear]

MOJABI GHOST

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Ex Female Reader

CW: NSFW, Cunnilingus, Thigh and Knee Riding, Bilingual Dirty Talk, Penetration, Rough Sex, Needy, Desperate Sex, Mating Press, Cockwarming

Description: Miguel drops by your apartment after he can’t stand the silence of his penthouse. He misses you, and tonight, you’ll see just how much~

Translation done by yours truly~

Song: “MOJABI GHOST” by Tainy, ft. Bad Bunny

Smoking,

Drinking,

Fucking,

Pretending that I don’t think about you.

I don’t who I’m trying to kid,

For this feeling,

Won’t let me sleep.

And I wish,

I wish, that I could dream peacefully,

That I could dream about you.

Another night alone. Another night without you.

Miguel O'Hara looks over view of Nueva York while drinking from his third glass of whiskey on the rocks; rocks that have melted and diluted the drink that has been abandoned for thoughts about you.

The truth is that Miguel has abandoned many things because of his mind— the treacherous bitch does not stop thinking about you.

Who could ever stop thinking about you, is the question that he should be asking. But he doesn't. And he’s well aware why.

Because that would require him to accept the reality that he fucked up the only thing that had given him happiness and warmth after what had happened with his daughter. And once again, it’s something that he doesn’t allow himself to forgive.

At first, you were only a hindrance, an annoyance which he could not get rid of. You were always looking at him with that sweet expression, ready to face the next anomaly with a smile and good attitude. He couldn’t stand you. The fact that you could face every problem and tragedy, a particular characteristic of spiderpeople, without your spirit being corrupted ... he hated it. He hated it to death.

Yet, observe how easy it is for him to lie. Because in reality, he never hated you. How could he hate the one person who received him with such a unique and special warmth and affection— the woman who, one by one, took down each one of his walls, making them crumble to the ground and fall as he did when he fell in love with you. Although, too late.

He lets out a dry laugh. There is no doubt that he is Spider-Man: the people he loves never stay for long.

Isn't that how he ended up here in the first place?

He sighs, exhausted. I don't want to think anymore.

He takes a swig from the whiskey and frowns, letting out a sound of disgust from the watered down drink and decides to get back into the penthouse. He looks around.

And now what?

Fuck this pity party. Miguel may not be in his five senses at the moment, but he doesn’t think twice before activating his nanotech suit and traveling to your dimension. He doesn't know what is the right to do; If you prefer your space, that he never contacts you again. All he knows is that he cannot stand this purgatory; and that your screams and curses are better than the overwhelming silence of his apartment.

As soon as he steps out of the portal into your apartment, you can already sense each other. It is almost impossible to sneak up on a Spider person, that's why he isn’t surprised when he finds you sitting in your living room, staring at him without blinking.

"What are you doing here?" You ask without emotion after several seconds of silence.

"You know what I came for." he says as he removes his mask and approaches your figure. However, your cold look stops him in his tracks.

“I don't care. I want you to say it.” you say while you stare into his eyes sharply. He deserves it. "Be direct for once in your life."

"Hey," he warns, baring his fangs. “Don’t push it.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, ignoring his warning. "Then leave. I was clear: don't come back until you tell me how you really feel.”

"Don't you think I want to?!" Miguel shouts, frustrated; Not with you. Never with you. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, controlling his anger. When he opens his eyes, you’re surprised to see actual remorse. "I'm dying to have you in my arms again..."

You can’t help to soften your expression when you caught the frustration in his voice and how difficult it is to express his true emotions at the moment. "Then why the hesitation?" You ask softly, your voice a sweet melody to his ears. Then, a sudden thought makes your blood run cold. “...unless I wasn’t good enough for you.” Your voice trembles and you can't suppress the tears that arise.

Miguel’s face falls and without thinking twice, he runs to you and hugs you tightly, snaking an arm around your waist and his hand behind your neck. He listens as you sob into chest and he brings you even closer, his hand gently stroking your back. "Shh... no, my love, that can’t be further away from the truth." He whispers softly into your ear. "I am the one who’s not good enough for you."

Miguel lets out a dry, incredulous laugh. “I'm the worst… to cause the most wonderful woman in all of the multiverse to think the opposite…” He presses a kiss against your forehead and brings you closer to him. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please, forgive me for being such a coward.” He murmurs apologetically as he buries his face into your neck and breathes in your scent.

God, how I missed this smell~

He leans back and stares into your eyes, stroking your cheeks and wiping your tears.

"I love you," he declares, more confident than ever. "I don't want to keep loving you from afar. I don’t want to run away, fearing that one day I will lose you if it also keeps you far from my arms.” He presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and whispering the last few words full of emotion, "If I still lose you...”

"God, Miguel..." You crumble once again and hug him tightly. "I love you so much," you confess in the midst of tears. "I’m afraid too, we are both spider people, we both risk our lives to prevent Multiverse from collapsing… our job is dangerous and it is painful to think about the great possibility that I could lose you,” You look into his eyes, holding his face in your hands. "But it hurts more to have you so close, and not by my side."

"I know..." He whispers as he leans towards your sweet touch. “I'm such an idiot. I thought I was protecting you from the pain, but in reality, I hurt you even more.” He stares into your eyes, his gaze full of remorse. "You could forgive this fool in love?"

You laugh softly and Miguel swears that his heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, you look at him with a mischievous smile. "Hmm, I don't know..."

Miguel groans and looks at you with desperation, as if he needed to hear that he has been forgiven to be calm. "Love, please..." He whimpers softly against your neck, kissing it sensually.

Your grin becomes wider and playful. You take his chin and make him look into your eyes. "But you sound so nice, Miguelito~” You purr. “Do it again~”

Shit...

Miguel feels how his cheeks redden and he short circuits when he hears your playful and dominant voice. It was a side of you that he had never seen. Or rather, one he never tried to get to know. He was so obsessed with controlling everything that he never realized that he kept you from expressing yourself around him.

Damn ... he definitely deserves to beg to you.

"My love..." He kneels in front of you and takes your hands in his. He looks at you with pleading eyes. "Please, I beg you... Forgive me. Let me show you how sorry I am.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the sight of the most stoic and stubborn man in the multiverse kneeling in front of you, begging like a dog. Is this a dream? More like a miracle.

"Wow... You really missed me, didn't you, Miguelito~?"

Miguel takes your hand and kisses your palm, staring into your eyes. "You have no idea." He whispers. Your heart skips a beat, blood rushing through your veins at an extreme speed. You feel the love that this man has for you and you cannot avoid the genuine smile that grows in your face.

You place your arms around his neck and you kiss his cheek. "I forgive you. Show me exactly how sorry you are~"

It takes Miguel less than two seconds before he is on top of you, your back on the sofa while his knee separates your legs. It seems as if all your confidence disappears as soon as Miguel touches you, his large hands gripping your waist. You feel tempted to deviate your gaze, but his crimson eyes keep you paralyzed under their intensity, full of lust.

"Oh baby..." he lets out a soft growl as his lips brush against your neck, making you shiver once more. “Eres mía~” (You’re mine~)

His fingers quickly disrobe you, his lips kissing every inch of your soft skin. His breathing quickens, breathing hot and heavy as his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, hand groping the other. He lets out soft grunts and moans of pleasure as he worships your chest, sucking and biting, leaving wet hot marks on your skin.

You grab onto his hair, your back arching off from the couch as he continues his assault. He lets out a particularly long groan when he feels you grind your wet pussy on his knee. He chuckles darkly and presses onto you even harder, making you shiver and moan in delight.

“That’s it mami…” he growls, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Grind that needy pussy on me… make yourself feel good.”

A sound of pleasure escapes from your lips. You close your eyes and decide to immerse yourself in the pleasure that both have refused for too long— no longer wanting to deprive your body of what it craves; and your heart from the one you love.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hips bucking against his clothed knee, soaking the nanotech fabric. He can only watch in awe how easy it was to reduce you to a sensitive mess— rubbing and pressing his thigh against your throbbing pussy, gripping your hips tighter as he guides you.

“Oh fuckkkk… Miguel…” The way you so readily give your body to him— it awakens a primal side to him that even he didn’t realize he had. The need to explore how many times he can make you cum without fucking you with his cock had his mind reeling from the possibilities.

Should he finger you now? Should he make you cum on his tongue? Ride his face?

“Miguel… oh Miguel~” you mewl, the squelching sound of your juices on his leg echoing in the room. Small puffs of hot air leave past your lips, your hips bucking so needy and desperate for friction.

However the night ends, what he does know is that he so desperately craves to hear you whine his name like that again.

“Come on, cariño…” he keeps rutting your hips against his thigh, now unclothed as his dick strains against the nanotech clothing that covers his groin. “What do you need~?”

“Need you…” You pant out, chest heaving rapidly. “Need you inside… please Miguel~”

He chuckles darkly. “Already? But baby, we just started~” He teases, slowing down the rubbing against your clit, making you whine in frustration.

“Fuck that! I missed you, maldito!” You growl, making Miguel’s eyes widen when you voice out your frustrations.

This makes Miguel chuckle heartedly, gazing down at you with affection and primal lust. “You missed my cock that much, baby~?”

“Not your cock. You.” This startles Miguel, actually making him blush. His chest fills with so much love and affection for you. God, he needs you so badly.

“Te amo, mi arañita…” (I love you, my little spider…) Miguel murmurs softly before leaning down and claiming your lips softly. A low moans escape from your lips as you feel just how serious he is. “Missed you… missed your touch…” he breathes out against your neck once he pulls away, his lips brushing against your skin. Miguel shivers and groans, loving the way your warm, soft skin feels against his. You can only watch as he worships you, too paralyzed by this feeling to speak. “Missed your smell…” he inhales your scent softly before pressing a kiss on your neck. “Missed your voice… let me hear it please…”

“Ahhhh… Miguel…” you find your voice, breathing out your response as your chest rises and falls rapidly, trembling underneath him.

“Fuck…” he groans from your needy voice. Miguel trails wet kisses down your hot skin, licking away your sweat. His fangs lightly graze your thighs, teasing you with his tongue. He chuckles when you arch your back, whimpering his name, begging to take you— to do something already!

He grins as he kisses the inside of your thigh. “You’ve never been very patient.”

You whine, your hand making it’s way to his hair and tugging him closer to your throbbing pussy. He chuckles and licks a long, agonizing swipe along your glistening folds, making you groan in response. “Good thing I’ve never been very patient either~”

Miguel takes his time, swirling his tongue, lapping up your juices— yet, the way that he grips your thighs, so close to digging his claws into your skin while he groans from your taste— it only makes him look more desperate and feral than when he first begged for you.

You jolt and shiver in delight, the drag of his fat, warm tongue bringing you to heights of pleasure you only had the joy of experiencing with Miguel. The feelings of pleasure were so delicious and excruciating, it makes you buck your hips against his face. You grind your pussy on his face unashamedly, his nose brushing against your clit deliciously.

Watching from below, how your hips arch and you tug harder on his hair is all that Miguel needed to die happily. His groans and harsh breathing muffled by your desperate grinding.

“Mmm… shlppp… mmnh…” His eyes remain trained on your cute expressions, a particularly harsh suck of your clit eliciting a whiny moan from you that had him reeling.

“Fuck… Miguel…! I’m so close!” You whine so pretty and needy. His claws digging dig into your thighs, pressing his face harder against your cunt as he eats you out like an animal.

Miguel moans against your cunt, murmuring for you to cum on his tongue, to do it now. It comes out a wet, muffled mess, but you didn’t care. You were already a moaning mess as you came, spreading your juices all over Miguel’s face. His tongue works on your core like a man dying of thirst, lapping up every drop of your juices and overstimulating the fuck out of you. He never came up for air, submerged between your thighs, delving his tongue deeper, sucking harder. This is where he belongs.

“Mi— Miguel! It’s too much..!” You whine, trying to push his head away but he’s glued to your pussy— and he’s not moving until he’s licked you clean.

After a few more seconds, he gives your pussy one last lick before he comes back up, his tongue hanging out as he smiles smugly. You twitch and writhe underneath him from the overstimulation, gazing at him with a satisfied and dazed expression. He tantalizingly drags his long tongue around his mouth, lips, chin… cleaning up your cum from his face, making sure you watch. “Dios mío, que rico sabes mami~” (My god, you taste delicious mami~)

You whimper, your hole twitching at the erotic display. Miguel watches as your pussy flutters with primal lust, smiling at you like a predator. “You liked that, baby? Do you still want more?”

Before you could respond, Miguel is on top of you, claiming your lips in a hot, sensual kiss. You groan at the taste of yourself on his lips, this only turning you on even further. He grips your ass, bringing your wet core towards his now fully unclothed and erect cock.

“Mmmngh… mmnh… ahhhhh…” You whimper into the kiss as he grinds his cock against your sensitive folds, spreading your juices all over.

“You want this cock, baby? Huh? I can’t hear you. Tell me how badly you want me. Tell me. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you.” Miguel whispered into your ear as he kept grinding himself against you, teasing you once again. You can only cry out, frustration building up inside of you as you feel your hole squeezing against nothing, craving his thick cock.

“Please… Miguel…”

“Dime lo que quieres preciosa… ¿quieres que te lo meta? ¿Sí? ¿Quieres que te coja?” (Tell me what you want, precious… you want me to put it in? Yeah? You want me to fuck you?)

“Yes, Miguel! Just… please!”

As much as he loves teasing you, he needed to nestle his cock inside of you. Right. Now.

“M’gonna bury this cock deep inside you… make sure your pussy remembers the shape of my cock…” He chuckles as he lines himself up with your hole and slowly pushes his cock past that first, tight ring inside your cunt. “Fuck… such a tight fit… bet you didn’t fuck anyone with a dick as big as mine…” he groans and pushes further. “no other cock can stretch you out like mine can…”

“No one… only you…” you breathe out in satisfaction as you finally feel your pussy getting full. “M’so full…”

Miguel lets out a string of curses and groans at the feeling of your tight pussy pulsating around him. “Yeah, that’s right baby… only my cock can fill you up this good.” He smirks as he looks down at you, caged between his arms and large body. “Gonna let me fuck this pussy, huh? Want me to pound you until you can’t think?”

“Yes, Miguel! Yes!”

That’s all the confirmation he needed before he started rutting his hips against yours at a fast pace. No time to start slow, no. This is the type of desperate and primal sex that lovers have after they’ve gone a long time without seeing each other. The type that builds up overtime only to be released in the heated thrust of each other’s hips. The type that has you moaning out gibberish and wrapping your arms and legs around him as Miguel thrusts his hard cock inside, going feral on your pussy.

“Fuck… I missed this… I missed you…” Miguel grunts with every thrust, small puffs of air leaving his lips as he ruts even faster, deeper. His muscles flex with every movement. He presses his hot body against yours, feeling your tits brush against his chest with every thrust.

“M-Miguel… please… harder!” You moan, digging your nails into his broad back.

“Yes…” his voice is so rough, so hungry that it’s almost jarring. Every word he says, every look on his face seems to radiate his intense feelings for you.

He needs you, oh, does he need you.

His arms are like steel on your body, keeping you still within his grasp, and he makes you feel every inch of him, pounding himself into you in a frenzy. This is what he had been looking for, needing. He fills your entire existence for just a moment, completely and utterly enraptured by you.

“Te amo… te amo tanto…” (I love you… I love you so much…) he whispers into your ear, biting and sucking on it. One of his hands makes its way between your legs as he rubs your clit. “Ven conmigo, bebé… I need you to cum with me…” (Come with me, baby…)

“Miguel! Ohh… I’m g- Mmm… Ahhhh~!” Your moans are muffled by his lips against yours. The pounding of his cock, his thumb rubbing your pussy, and this hot, searing kiss was all you needed to finally let go. Squelching hot cum bathes Miguel’s cock and balls as you tremble and writhe in ecstasy.

“That’s it, baby… god, you did so good…” he groans, placing your forehead against his as he ruts his hips faster. Grunting as he chases his own release. Not long after, Miguel is cumming inside your pussy, spurting hot loads of his cum so deep you can feel it in your womb. The moans he lets out sound so raw and desperate, you feel like you’re watching a whole other person.

He sighs in satisfaction, pressing a kiss on your forehead before laying down besides you. He pulls you into his body, his cock twitching as he keeps it nestled deep inside your cunt.

“Fuck… I don’t think I’ve ever come this much…” Miguel lets out a breathy laugh and you look at him in awe. The afterglow of your session makes him look so… ethereal. You blush and involuntarily clench your pussy around his cock.

Miguel chuckles. “I felt that, preciosa~”

You roll your eyes and look away from him, flustered. “Then take it out!”

“Mmm… why should I~? I very much prefer having you close like this.” Miguel inhales in your scent and presses a tender kiss on your neck. The action flusters you further, making you blush at his sweetness and his opposing teasing.

“Te amo, mi vida…” (I love you, my life..) He whispers softly as he closes his eyes, bringing you closer into his embrace.

You smile softly and close your eyes as well, slowly dozing off. Not before you utter the same words back, “Te amo, Miguelito~”

.

.

.

.

A/N: A little fun fact: this fic was originally written in Spanish first because I wanted to practice writing (specifically smut) in my native language. I might end up posting both languages on AO3.

[inkspiredwriting]

The Diner of Destiny - Part 2

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: Okay, some of you wanted a second part. So I thought why not? I've never written a second part to any of my stories, so I'm not so sure if the second part is any good.

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5-6, angst

Five wandered through the fractured remains of countless timelines, driven by a singular purpose: to find y/n, the woman he had unwittingly erased from existence. He had become a phantom, slipping between realities like a shadow, his resolve hardening with each failed attempt. Every timeline, every world was a dead end, a cruel reminder of the life he had obliterated with one careless choice. But giving up was never an option. He had to find her.

Weeks blurred into months as he tirelessly pursued the faintest hints of her existence. Fragmented memories, distorted whispers, and fleeting visions of a woman whose face he had never truly known. Each clue led him deeper into the labyrinth of time, and each step weighed heavier on his conscience. He was close—he could feel it.

Finally, one day, in a timeline that felt strangely still, as though it had been waiting for his arrival, Five found her.

She was sitting in a small, secluded garden, surrounded by overgrown ivy and vibrant flowers. The sun cast a warm, golden light over the scene, but there was an air of melancholy that clung to the place, as if it remembered the things that had been lost. Y/n was there, her back to him, her head bowed as she absentmindedly traced patterns in the dirt with a stick. She looked almost like a statue—beautiful, but untouchable, frozen in a moment that he had shattered.

Five approached her cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. His footsteps crunched softly on the gravel path, and y/n looked up, startled. Her eyes met his, and for a brief, agonizing moment, it was as though she recognized him. But then the flicker of familiarity vanished, replaced by confusion.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice tinged with wariness but not fear. There was a gentleness in her tone that cut Five deeper than any anger could have.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, and for the first time in a long time, he hesitated. How could he explain the unimaginable? How could he make her understand what he had done?

“My name is Five,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m not sure how to say this, but… you were supposed to be someone important to me. To all of us, actually. But I made a mistake, a terrible mistake, and I… I lost you.”

Y/n’s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of his words. “Lost me? I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. We’ve never met before. How could you have lost me?”

Five’s chest tightened with the weight of his guilt. “You’re right. We’ve never met. But we should have. I was supposed to find you, fall in love with you. You were supposed to be my anchor, the person who kept me—and all the other versions of me—grounded across the timelines. But instead, I got involved with someone else, someone named Lila.”

At the mention of Lila’s name, Y/n’s expression softened, but only slightly. “Lila?” she echoed, the name unfamiliar and distant.

Five nodded, his voice trembling. “Yes. I thought I was making the right choice at the time, but it was the wrong one. Choosing Lila… it erased you from our lives. You were supposed to be there, and because of me, you weren’t. I took away your life, your future, and I didn’t even know it until it was too late.”

Y/n stared at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of deception or malice. But all she saw was a man haunted by his mistakes, a man who had come to her not for forgiveness, but for something even more elusive.

“What do you want from me?” she asked quietly, her voice laced with a sorrow she didn’t fully understand.

Five closed his eyes for a moment, gathering the strength to continue. “I don’t know if I can make things right, but I had to find you. I had to tell you what happened, even if it doesn’t change anything. I’m sorry, y/n. I’m sorry for what I took from you, for what I took from all of us. I just… I wanted you to know that you mattered. That you were supposed to matter.”

Y/n looked down at the ground, her hand still clutching the stick. She was silent for a long time, and Five feared that his words had only hurt her more, that there was nothing left to say. But then, she spoke, her voice soft and distant.

“Do you really believe we could have been happy?” she asked, almost to herself.

Five’s heart ached at the question, at the lost possibility of what could have been. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “But I would have liked to find out.”

Y/n nodded, her expression unreadable. “I can’t remember you,” she said softly. “But something in me feels… something. Maybe it’s just the idea of what could have been. Or maybe… maybe there’s something more.”

Five watched her, his breath catching in his throat. This was it—the moment that could change everything. But even as hope flickered within him, he knew the truth. He had come too late. The damage was done, and there was no going back.

“I wish I could change what happened,” he whispered. “But all I can do is tell you the truth. You deserved so much more than what I left you with.”

Y/n looked at him, her eyes filled with a sadness that went beyond words. “Maybe we were never meant to be,” she said quietly. “Maybe… maybe this was always how it was supposed to end.”

Five shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. “No. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. But it’s what I’ve made it. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Y/n stood slowly, the stick falling from her hand as she faced him fully. “I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I appreciate that you tried to make things right. Even if it’s too late.”

Five nodded, the tears finally spilling over as he met her gaze. “I’ll never stop trying to make it right,” he vowed. “Even if I never see you again, I’ll keep looking for a way to fix this.”

Y/n gave him a small, sad smile, the kind of smile that spoke of acceptance and resignation. “Goodbye, Five,” she said softly. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, her figure growing smaller and smaller until she disappeared into the distance. Five stood there, alone in the garden, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He had found her, but he had also lost her—again.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the garden in a blanket of twilight, Five knew that this was his burden to bear. He had made a choice, and now he would live with the consequences for the rest of his existence. The woman who was supposed to be his anchor, his salvation, was gone, and he was the one who had pushed her away.

And so, with a heavy heart and a mind full of regrets, Five turned and walked back into the shadows, disappearing from the world that could have been his. The timelines would go on, fractured and unstable, and he would continue his endless search for redemption. But deep down, he knew the truth—some things could never be undone. And some losses were meant to be permanent.

The garden, now empty and silent, bore witness to a moment that had passed, a possibility that had slipped through time’s fingers. And as the stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, Five’s silhouette faded into the night, carrying with him the memory of what could have been, and the sorrow of what never was.

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCXDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 5)

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Tw: torture scene (GiW agent receiving), general angst, canon-typical violence (DC), nobody is having a good time

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was pretty easy for Danny to forget that Dr. Crane was a rogue at times.

Most of the time he wasn’t comically evil, like what he’d expect of a Gotham rogue. He was helping Danny, even if only because he didn’t want to be taken in by the GiW as well. He was even downright nice most of the time, or at least neutral.

Sure, he had a strange obsession with fear and psychology, but that wasn’t really out of the ordinary for Danny. It didn’t feel like living with a rogue, just like…staying with a distant relative, or something.

He seemed like just an ordinary person.

Today, though, Danny was brought back to reality.

The GiW agent they’d tracked down together writhed on the ground, screaming in pain and terror. Scarecrow was sat a few feet away, setting up a syringe of the antidote he’d made.

After a few more moments, he injected the man with the antidote, watching him like a hawk the entire time.

Suddenly, the man surged forward, lunging at Scarecrow with a feral scream.

Unluckily for him, though, he was still weak from the fear toxin in his system, and from the beatings he’d received prior. Scarecrow easily wrestled him to the ground, settling himself on the broad part of the agent’s back with a vice grip on one of his arms.

“Let’s try again,” he said sharply, all of the warmth Danny had grown used to gone from his voice. “Where is the GiW base of operations?”

The agent took several shuddering breaths before spitting at Scarecrow, defiance and hatred written all over his face.

For just a moment, the room was utterly silent.

“Fine, have it your way.”

Scarecrow began to twist the man’s arm further. It wasn’t long before the agent began to squirm, then writhe, beneath him. Danny’s stomach churned.

“You know,” Scarecrow began, almost conversationally, “there are plenty of jobs that one can get without the use of their legs, especially with the level of education you have. Anything that doesn’t involve hard labor, really.”

The man’s face was beginning to turn red in his struggle not to scream. He took in gasping breaths, the way that his mouth moved almost reminding Danny of a goldfish.

(He felt awful for the comparison, but it was true.)

“However,” Scarecrow continued, “I find you’d be rather hard-pressed to find a job without the use of your arms. Especially in a place like Gotham, where you can always be replaced by someone eager to do your job for even less money. Of course, you could most likely coast off of savings and severance pay for a while, but…”

He leaned closer to the man’s head, his voice lowering.

“Would you be able to live like that? To live with yourself, if you no longer have a purpose?”

He allowed the agent a few seconds of rest before increasing the pressure on his arm. The agent gasped, letting out a strangled hiss. His arm bones were making fascinating noises in response to the strain. Danny felt sick.

“You seem like a rather driven young man. I’m sure your family would hate to see you unmotivated, directionless. Would they resent you, do you think?”

“Fuck you, you—”

The man was cut off by his own scream as Scarecrow finally allowed his arm to break, audibly splintering into thousands of useless shards of bone.

He had the exact pressure memorized. Clearly, he had done this before.

This was wrong. This was wrong.

Shouldn’t Danny step in, do something?

“That won’t heal cleanly. Even with the best medical care in the world, you’ll end up with permanent damage.”

The man below him wheezed and sobbed, choking on air as Scarecrow let go of his arm carelessly, letting it flop back onto the ground.

“Just the sort of thing something like you deserves,” Scarecrow hissed, his voice cold.

“You tortured a child, and you enjoyed it. You laughed with your friends about it. In your notes, one of your friends complained about the screaming,” Scarecrow brought his leg around, grinding his boot into the man’s broken arm. He howled in agony, writhing uncontrollably.

“Was it inconvenient to him, do you think? Too loud? If you were joking about it, clearly you thought so, too. I could fix that as well.”

He drew out another needle, this one once again filled with fear toxin.

“Scarecrow, wait,” Danny choked out.

Scarecrow turned to look at him.

Even his posture was different than usual. He looked… stiff, more like an animal than a man. When he tilted his head at Danny in a silent question, it looked like something in his neck had snapped, his head lolling to the side.

Danny wondered if he was consciously moving like that, or if it was habit at this point.

“You—we don’t have to do this. We can get information some other way, right? You don’t have to…”

Danny looked down at the GiW agent below Scarecrow. He didn’t even have it in him to glare up at Danny like he had before. Instead he laid limply on the ground, tremors rolling through his body uncontrollably.

“We’ve exhausted every other option and you know it,” Scarecrow said, his voice low, “this is the only way we can move forward.”

“Still, I—I don’t,” Danny swallowed, his throat tight, “this isn’t—this isn’t right. Isn’t there some other way to do this? Like—a truth serum, or something?”

“Truth serums are notoriously unreliable. They’re almost as bad as lie detectors. We’re much more likely to get a reliable result from this.”

Danny just stared at the GiW agent and his splintered, ruined arm. He began to weakly wriggle in Scarecrow’s grasp, which was graciously ignored.

He vaguely remembered himself doing the same thing when he was on the operating table; even if he knew there was no chance of escape, he still thrashed and screamed, desperate to get away. The jagged I-shaped incision on his torso felt uncomfortably warm.

What was there left to say?

“The Bat does the same thing at times, you know,” Scarecrow said, “him and the rest of his brood. By using my toxin, I’m actually lessening the amount of permanent damage that I’m doing. Physically.”

“Still, that doesn’t make it right,” Danny said desperately. “Even if—even if everyone in the world did this, it wouldn’t make it right.”

Scarecrow hummed.

They were both silent for a moment.

His next words were gentle, absurdly so when compared to the scene in front of him.

“I would love an alternative. But…”

He shrugged, hand coming to rest on the break in the GiW agent’s arm. Even without applying any pressure, the man stopped squirming immediately.

“There aren’t any other options,” Danny repeated, his voice flat and his body numb.

“Yes,” Scarecrow said. “I’m sorry.”

There was a pause. No one moved a muscle. Eventually Scarecrow spoke again, his voice strangely empty.

“You can stand outside and keep watch, if you’d like. At such a short distance their radars won’t pick us up.”

Danny said nothing, leaving the room silently.

He sat outside for quite a while.

He was grateful that Scarecrow had, with his help, dragged the agent to one of his previous hideouts. It was soundproofed, after all.

He was glad that he didn’t have to hear the rest of what Scarecrow did to the man.

After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Crane left the building, joining him outside. He guided Danny back to his beat up old truck and they drove home in silence.

“Did you at least…do you know where they are, now?” Danny asked as they entered the apartment, his voice small.

“They didn’t share the details of all of their locations with any one person. I know where one of their locations are, but not their main base of operations.”

Danny felt disgusted. With himself, with Dr. Crane, with the GiW.

He was disgusted by the agent, too. Did he just hate the restless dead so much that he would prefer to be tortured than to give them the upper hand? Did he really think he was in the right?

Was there a chance that he was?

Danny felt very, very small, and very stupid. Stupid and weak and cowardly.

“Danny,” Dr. Crane spoke, his voice soft.

“I’m truly sorry that this is happening to you. I really, truly wish that you didn’t have to endure my company. I…”

He fell quiet. Danny wondered if he was just saying this to pacify him, or if he truly meant it. He wondered if it really mattered in the end.

After a few moments of silence, Dr. Crane sighed, looking truly pained.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Danny was quiet.

“I’m going to bed early,” he finally said, turning away and leaving without a second glance.

—

[littlexdeaths]

scotty doesn’t know - e.m. iii.

eddie munson x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: cheating, lil sprinkle of angst, shitty (ex) boyfriend behavior, some major fucking CHEESE (sorry if ur lactose intolerant), reader is the ultimate tease, dom!eddie, light bondage, degradation kink, oral (m receiving), ass/pussy spanking, multiple orgasms, unprotected piv sex, cream pie

series masterlist

based on scotty doesn’t know by lustra

a/n: honestly about to dedicate my entire life and blog to @strangerstilinski because i couldn’t have gotten this one done without her help. also thank you everyone who has been so incredibly patient with me, i hope you enjoy xx.

word count: 8.2k

The weekend had come and gone way too fast.

And now Monday was staring you right in the face, and with it— a very important decision.

You spent the rest of your weekend with Eddie, cuddling, talking and just enjoying each other's company. For those two days you were in your own little world together and you honestly never wanted it to end. But realistically you knew you had to go home and return back to your reality.

A reality where you belonged to someone else.

Your parents were absolutely livid by the time you returned home late Sunday evening, getting the biggest lecture of your life after Eddie had dropped you off. To add fuel to the fire, Scott had been calling your house nonstop since Saturday morning, much to your parents' annoyance. But that was a conversation you weren’t ready to have just yet.

Especially not over the phone.

You tossed and turned all night, desperately trying to figure out what you were going to say to him.

Monday was going to be rough, you knew that. But the thought of being able to finally show everyone who your heart really belonged to made things a little easier. You hadn’t exactly let Eddie know of your plans to dump your boyfriend the following day but he could tell something was up.

From the way you kissed him goodbye in his van, right out in the open for anyone to see, including your parents. And the look you gave him as you glanced over your shoulder before continuing up your driveway. It gave him a spark of hope that maybe this wasn’t just a silly fling to you either.

You got ready that morning with shaky hands, tucking one of Eddie’s band tees into your Levi’s. The male had let you wear it home the previous day, mostly because he enjoyed the sight of you in his clothes a little too much. You fiddle with the belt loop of your jeans as you stare at your reflection.

A mixture of nerves and excitement swirled in your belly as you took in your appearance, smoothing your sweaty palms over your thighs.

You can do this.

You take one final look before grabbing your backpack and bound down the stairs with a newfound pep in your step. You can’t help the goofy smile from spreading across your face as you think of seeing Eddie, and it makes all this seem a little easier. You all but ignore the curious looks from your parents as you bolt out the front door.

They hadn’t seen you this happy in months.

But as you drive to school, those pesky nerves begin to creep back in as you pass Scott’s jeep. You will your heart rate to slow as you search for a parking spot. A sense of relief fills your chest when you notice one just a few spots down from a very particular van. Your hands shake as you pull the key from the ignition, taking a moment to collect yourself before you head inside.

You try to ignore the curious eyes of your peers as you enter the school, knowing the events of the previous Friday were still fresh in their minds. And you reach your locker without incident, quickly yanking it open to put away your textbooks. You keep your head down as you walk to your first class, part of you was just waiting for Scott to sneak up on you.

Oddly enough you hadn’t seen him or Eddie all morning, which was extremely unusual. By now Scott would've walked you to first class and you’d be spending your second period study hall with Eddie. So seeing neither of them had your mind racing, and your anxiety spiking.

Had Scott figured it out? Did he confront Eddie?

A pit begins to form in your stomach at the thought, and you don’t think you could ever forgive yourself if Eddie was hurt because of you. You’re so wrapped up in your own head that you don’t notice someone beginning to approach you. A look of determination on their face.

“I need to talk to you.”

The voice startles you, panic rises in your throat as your eyes lift. You are expecting to meet Scott’s icy glare, or the warmth of Eddie’s gaze. But instead, you are met with the soft but stern cerulean of Dustin Henderson.

“Me?” you ask softly, glancing around you before back at the younger male.

“Yes you,” he huffs in annoyance.

“What could you possibly need to talk to me about?” you keep your tone hushed as he takes the empty chair across from you.

“I know you think you’re fooling everyone, but you aren’t fooling me.”

You’re stunned into silence for a moment, fingers gripping the arm of the chair as he raises a brow at you.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t bullshit me, I know you’re sneaking around with Eddie,” he snaps.

Your heart leaps into your throat, mouth drying as Dustin continues to glower at you. A sting of betrayal suddenly fills your chest, and you feel foolish for even thinking Eddie would actually keep this secret between you.

But maybe he was just like Scott, who loved to brag about his sexual conquests to all his friends.

“He wasn’t supposed to tell—”

“He didn’t.” Dustin cuts you off, taking off his hat to run a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m just not blind.”

You both sit in silence for a moment then, feeling even more confused than you were when he initially sat down.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

Dustin sighs, folding his hands together before he meets your gaze again.

“Eddie doesn’t know I'm here right now and honestly, he’d probably kill me if he did know.” The male winces slightly, before he continues. “But I am through with sitting around and watching one of my best friend’s hearts get stomped on.”

“Dustin, that’s not—”

He holds up his hand to cut you off, shaking his head.

“Just let me finish.”

So you hold your tongue, despite wanting to tell this kid that he has it all wrong.

“Eddie’s a good guy, one of the best I've ever known. And over the past couple of months we’ve all seen a change in him, he’s happier.”

That thought warmed your heart.

“But I can also see how all this is weighing on him. You may not notice it, but it’s definitely there.”

A lump has formed in your throat, watching in silence as the younger boy stands and slings his backpack over his shoulder. He glances at you once more, that look of disdain still written across his features.

“Now I know I can’t tell you what to do, but Eddie doesn’t deserve to be someone’s secret.”

And without a glance back in your direction, you’re alone again.

Fourth period.

The moment you’ve been waiting for and simultaneously dreading since Sunday evening. It was the only class you shared with Scott, and while you’d been able to avoid him most of the day— it was time to face the music.

When you step into the classroom, he is already seated in his usual spot in the back corner of the room. The empty desk beside him is practically calling your name.

But your whole body freezes when his eyes meet yours expectantly. And as he begins to wave you over, you make a beeline to the opposite side of the classroom. You keep your eyes low as you find an empty seat, chewing nervously on your lower lip.

When you flip open your notebook, you hear the familiar squeak of sneakers in front of you. Your eyes slowly lift to reveal the hardened features of your boyfriend. His jaw is set in a grimace, and he rests his knuckles harshly on the front of your desk.

“Babe, we need to talk.”

But before you have the chance to reply, Mrs. Jones enters the classroom in a flurry. The bell rings immediately after, signaling the start of class. And it’s hard to tell whether the abrupt noise or his harsh glare causes you to flinch in your seat. She claps her hands to attention then, but Scott still doesn’t move.

“Mr. McGuire, take your seat now.”

He merely scoffs before he stalks away, returning to his own seat. Feeling defeated, you slump down in your chair. Any confidence you’d had this morning seemed to dissolve under his angry gaze. The rest of the class period goes by in a daze, as you can’t seem to focus on anything besides the daggers that Scott has been throwing your way the entire hour.

Once the final bell rings, you shoot up from your seat so fast you nearly take a couple other students in your rush. You practically sprint to your locker, hoping to make it to the lunchroom before Scott can corner you.

But you underestimated his speed, especially when he was sober.

His hand suddenly slams your locker door shut, and he backs you into the cool metal. He leans his palm against the line of lockers, closing you in completely. There was no way you could escape him now.

“What is going on with you? Why are you being such a frigid bitch?” he seethes.

You can’t help but wince at the insult, shrinking under his increasingly angry gaze. People were beginning to stare, causing more nerves to twist in your gut. This was a much more interesting sight than anything the cafeteria had to offer. And while you hated the attention, you knew you had to do this.

Just like ripping off a bandaid.

“I want to break up.”

He clearly wasn’t expecting that, confusion quickly replacing the anger on his features. You let out the sigh you didn’t realize you were holding, relief filling your chest as you finally spoke the words aloud.

Scott runs a hand through his dark locks, pulling away from you ever so slightly.

“You want to break up?” his voice raises, “Why? Is this about that stupid fucking party?”

You knew it wouldn’t be that easy, he wouldn’t just agree and walk away. While you had tried to prepare yourself for what you wanted to say all night, your brain was struggling to string any words together.

You rub your temples, trying to prolong the inevitable but the male could only take your silence for so long.

“Well?!” he shouts.

You take a shaky breath as you square your shoulders, attempting to feign some kind of confidence. Dustin’s words from earlier echoing in your ears. He doesn’t deserve to be someone’s secret. The sea of students had only begun to grow in the past few minutes but you don’t notice that Eddie was amongst them.

“I don’t love you, and quite frankly I don’t think I ever did.”

You could hear a pin drop.

“You're an arrogant, selfish prick. And honestly, I just can’t keep doing this anymore…” you pause, now meeting his stormy eyes.

“Especially when my heart belongs to someone else.”

If you thought Scott was angry before, you hadn’t seen anything yet.

His hand suddenly slams into the locker next to your head, causing you to shrink instantly. While he’s never been violent towards you before, you aren’t entirely surprised by it. It was just in his nature.

“So you cheated on me? Is that what you’re saying?”

Before you can get another word in, you hear the familiar clearing of a throat. And a ringed hand reaches out to harshly tug the male away from you.

“You just don’t learn do you, Scotty?”

Eddie is beyond fuming as he shoves Scott back into the lockers before the male can properly react. And while Scott wasn’t the smartest guy, he quickly seemed to put two and two together.

He looked between you and Eddie before he started laughing.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Munson? You’re fucking the freak?”

You instantly turn on defense mode, entirely fed up with his treatment of him. Before you can stop yourself, you copy Eddie’s actions and shove Scott back into the lockers. Surprise crosses both of the males' features at your actions, knowing you were never a violent or angry person.

But everyone has their limits and you’ve just hit yours.

“Yeah, and he fucks me so well too. Eddie here actually knows how to make a girl come— but I can’t say the same for you, McGuire.”

An astounding ‘oooh’ resonates through the crowd at your words.

Scott’s cheeks are flushed from a mixture of embarrassment and anger. No one has ever stood up to him like this before and he’s suddenly at a loss for words. Eddie is grinning like a mad man, clapping excitedly before he wraps his arms around your waist. You welcome his embrace, leaning back further against his chest.

Scott just stares at the two of you, gritting his teeth as you smile sweetly.

“Now, I think we’re done here. Let’s go, Eddie.”

The metalhead willingly lets you drag him away, only your destination wasn’t the cafeteria anymore.

You pull him into the nearest empty hallway, shoving him up against the wall and locking your lips together. Eddie eagerly accepts your advances, fingers lacing through the loop of your jeans to keep you pressed against him.

Adrenaline is pumping through your veins, making every touch of his skin feel like a live wire.

“Munson!”

You curse softly as you realize you’ve been caught, and quickly glance over your shoulder.

Mr. Mundy looks between the two of you with a deep sigh, “Now come on, you know the rules. Break it up or you’re both getting detention.”

You unwillingly pull yourself away from him and lean against the brick wall beside him. A glance out of the corner of your eye shows how the male is biting back a grin.

“Try not to infect your girlfriend with your delinquency, alright?” Mr. Mundy gives you both a disgruntled look before heading back into his classroom.

Once the door shuts behind him, Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and coaxes you back into his arms.

“Y’hear that? Girlfriend,” he teases, wiggling his brows but the title makes your stomach flutter nonetheless. “Didn’t even ask me out on a proper date though, sweetheart. I’m offended.”

He laughs as you playfully pinch his side, shaking your head fondly. You lean your forehead against his chest, letting yourself indulge in the scent of his cologne.

“Did you really mean what you said back there?” he says after a while.

The sudden change of tone has you lifting your head, gazing up at him curiously. Eddie pulls you in even closer, letting his hands rest on the curve of your waist.

“That your heart belongs to me?” he prods.

You look down at your feet shyly, not realizing that he had heard that part of the conversation. Eddie doesn’t let your gaze wander for long though, as he gently tips your head back up to meet his.

“Yes, I meant it,” your voice shakes, your nerves getting the best of you.

But the look that flits over his features has your heart skipping a beat and butterflies erupting in your belly.

“All mine?” he questions, nervously licking his lips as he awaits your answer.

“All yours, Eddie.”

Being Eddie Munson’s official girlfriend is more than anything you could’ve dreamt about.

While sneaking around with him was fun in the moment, the amount he wanted to show you off made your heart sing. You had never felt so wanted or taken care of in your entire life.

But it wasn’t always easy, as graduation continued to grow closer the two of you barely had any alone time together. Between Hellfire, band practice and constant cramming for finals— time was not on your side.

But busy schedules be damned, you both manage to carve out enough time for a date at Benny’s.

“The usual, kids?”

Benny calls from the kitchen with a grin as you both take a seat in your normal booth. The diner had quickly become your favorite place for date nights, in your opinion they had the best food in town. Despite Eddie’s futile attempts to take you to Enzo’s, you prefer the easy going atmosphere of the small diner much more.

“Nah, just two chocolate milkshakes and an order of fries. We only got a few minutes before this one abandons me for prom shit with Wheeler,” Eddie teases.

You can’t help but pout, nudging his foot under the table.

“Says the one who abandoned me for movie night with Henderson yesterday.”

What you aren’t aware of though is how Dustin was actually helping Eddie pick out a tux and tie for prom. Laughing hysterically as the older boy panicked over what color tie would match perfectly with your dress.

Benny watches you both playfully bicker back and forth, shaking his head fondly. He brings out your order a few minutes later and unable to contain your excitement any further, you grab a fry and dip it directly into your milkshake.

Eddie’s lips freeze around the straw, gazing at you in absolute bewilderment when he pretends to gag.

“Sweetheart, that’s disgusting.”

You roll your eyes at his theatrics, taking a bite out of the fry before dipping it back in.

“You really shouldn’t knock it till you try it, Ed,” you say in a sing-song tone as your boyfriend urgently pulls the basket of fries away from you.

“Yeah— no way. I’m not doing that, you’re pretty sick in the head, baby,” he muses between bites of a plain fry. “Shit… and people call me a freak?”

You stifle a giggle as you lean forward, stealing the half eaten fry from between his fingers. You dunk it back into your milkshake and pop it in your mouth with a soft but exaggerated moan.

Eddie shifts slightly in his seat, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. It was almost too easy to get him so worked up. You ignore the warning look he shoots your way as you reach for another fry.

“Come on, just try it.”

You scoop as much of the shake onto the fry as possible, holding it towards him. The male just shakes his head, leaning back against the cracked leather of the booth.

“You know, I don’t know if this is gonna work out between us, doll face,” he chuckles, watching as the chocolate cream begins to drip down your fingers.

His petulance continues but you’re still trying to goad him into taking a bite, dangling it in front of his scrunched nose, inching closer and closer. All in an effort to tempt him. You watch patiently, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip it between his pouty lips.

“This level of blasphemy might be crossing a line, even for me—”

Before he can finish his thought, there’s lukewarm milkshake and salt smeared across his cheek and the corner of his mouth.

Eddie sits in shock for a moment before you burst into a fit of giggles at his expression.

“Oh, you are asking for it now, baby,” he taunts.

You are unprepared as he dips two of his fingers into his own glass, reaching forward to smear the sticky chocolate across your cheek. You gasp when the male leans forward, mischief sparkling in his eyes. His tongue darts out, causing a loud squeal to escape you as he licks the milkshake from your cheek.

“Eddie, that’s gross,” you whine as you reach out to steady the glass before he dumps milkshake everywhere.

“Hm, you didn’t seem to find it that gross when it was buried inside your—”

You toss a fry at him before he can finish that sentence, hitting him square in the forehead. He looks shocked, ringed fingers dramatically grasping at his chest when he slumps in his seat.

“You wound me, sweet thing.”

It’s then that you take the time to really look at him, and a surge of utter fondness fills your chest. While he goes on a dramatic rant about how french fries could be considered a deadly weapon, you’re only half listening.

Instead admiring the way his dimple indents his cheek when he grins sheepishly at you, and his hands flail about when he speaks. And it really hits you just how lucky you are to have him, that he was all yours.

So when you lean forward to capture his lips and ultimately silence him— he’s a little surprised. But he cups your face between his palms and kisses you back with just as much fervor.

“What was that for?” he asks a little breathlessly when you pull away, and you just smile.

“Just… cause I can.”

His eyes soften and he reaches out to thread your fingers together. Eddie knows the significance of what that means, so he can’t help but lean in to press your lips together again.

“Fuck yeah, you can.”

You really wonder if the universe was playing one big joke on you.

After your mini date at the diner a few days prior, you’d barely seen Eddie the rest of the week. The guys had a big gig at the Hideout the following evening and have been using any spare moment they had to practice. While you understood the reasoning for it, the other part of you was becoming increasingly frustrated.

Eddie could definitely tell something was up, but he didn’t exactly have the time to ask you in the five minute intervals you had together between classes.

So in an effort to make up for his absence, Eddie asked you to tag along to practice that night. But you might have had some ulterior motives for agreeing. Since it had been well over a week since you had any proper alone time together, you were past the point of needy.

Despite still seeing each other, the rushed kisses and subtle touches weren’t enough for either of you.

This was the longest either of you had gone without sex, so you can only imagine he was feeling the same way. But if his longing glances told you anything, it was that he needed you just as much— if not more. So that’s why you showed up to practice in your shortest skirt you owned.

What the metalhead doesn’t know is that you aren’t wearing any panties under said skirt.

However, he’s going to find out soon enough.

You’d given him a quick peck on the cheek when you got there, nothing too much though. You really did want his friends to like you, and they seemed to hate the constant displays of affection you both exhibited on the daily. So you kept it subtle, mostly for that reason.

But a small part of you did it just to rile him more.

In the short time you’d been officially dating, it became quite apparent how much Eddie craved your touch, whether it was sexual or not. He’d subtly tap his fingers on your knee during group hang outs, or press his lips to your temple when he walked you to class. You found it utterly endearing, but you also knew you could use it to your advantage.

So you could immediately tell from the slight pout that your boyfriend wanted more than just a peck on the cheek.

Hook, line and sinker.

As practice continued on, you found yourself sitting on an unused amp, with no other chairs in sight. The group wasn’t exactly used to visitors during practice, so you had to make due. You didn’t mind it though, as it put you in Eddie’s direct line of sight.

About half an hour in they decided to take a small break, the other three males were chatting excitedly about their upcoming dnd campaign. Eddie was more focused on tuning his guitar, but his eyes continued to wander back over to you.

This was the perfect opportunity to let him in on your little secret, while the other members were too preoccupied to be paying attention to you.

You sigh heavily and lean your arms back, uncrossing your legs and letting them fall open. Giving him the perfect view of what you were hiding… or rather not hiding, underneath your skirt.

His eyes flick up to your face before they begin to travel lower, and it takes him a full minute before he notices. But once that recognition flashes across his features, his mouth hangs open in shock.

A playful smirk plays on your lips and you quickly cross your legs again, acting as though nothing had happened. Eddie’s jaw is clenched when he returns to tuning his guitar, feigning as though it had no effect on him. But you could tell from the growing bulge in his jeans, that it definitely did.

He was grateful he had the ability to hide his boner for the rest of practice, not wanting to explain himself to his bandmates. But you knew by his stiff posture, you were so in for it when this was over.

The thought had you squirming with excitement, and you tried your best not to make a mess all over your makeshift seat. Now that would be something you could never live down.

Thankfully Eddie decided to end practice earlier than normal, claiming they could all use a break after their busy week.

But only the two of you knew the real reason.

Eddie all but drags you out to his van once his gear is packed up, gently shoving you against the back door. He opens the other side to put his guitar back into the vehicle, and quickly slams it shut. You bite back a grin when he cages you in against the cool metal.

His jaw is still tense, eyes darkening when his hand begins to caress your bare thigh.

“That was quite the peep show, sweetness.”

You try to keep your breathing even, but his roaming hands are making that very difficult.

“I don’t know what you mean, baby,” you feign innocence, knowing it’ll only rile him up more.

While he loves when you’re his good girl, he also loves any excuse to treat you like his little slut. The brunette chuckles humorously, grabbing your chin in his free hand to keep your eyes aligned with his.

“Come on now, don’t play dumb with me,” he tuts.

You just continue to gaze up at him all doe-eyed, hands resting on his chest. You don’t answer him, which only makes him more frustrated than he was to begin with.

“I see how it’s gonna be... You wanna be a brat? I’ll treat you like one,” he hisses. “Now, get in the van.”

He pulls away, and you feel a sudden chill from the loss of his body heat. When you don’t move an inch his brow raises, cocking his head at you.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart.”

As much as you would love to continue to push his buttons, you know you’re in enough trouble as it is. So you squeak out a quiet ‘yes, sir’ and round the side of the van to hop in the passenger seat.

Eddie is silent for most of the ride, but the tension in the air is palpable. While he says nothing, the glances he keeps tossing your way have you squirming in your seat. In an effort to stop your distracting movements he reaches a hand out, ringed fingers digging into the meat of your thigh.

And in your desperate state you can’t resist pushing him just a little more. So you rest your smaller hand atop his and guide his fingers in between your legs. Eddie suddenly slams on the brakes and your body flies forward when he pulls off on the side of the road.

He puts the van in park before turning to face you.

“In the back, on your knees. Now.”

You grin excitedly at his demanding tone, already anticipating what was to come. So you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt and scurry into the back of the van without another word. Eddie takes his sweet ole time before joining you, as part of your punishment. He knew your patience would only last so long.

He flicks through his cassette tapes and fiddles with the radio volume… anything to keep you waiting.

So when he does finally join you in the back, you’re practically trembling with need. His hands cradle the back of your neck, titling it to bare your throat to him. He presses harsh kisses along your skin, nipping every so often. You can’t help but whimper from the contact, your hands reaching out to grip the fabric of his shirt.

But he stops you, immediately pushing your hands aside.

“Only good girls get to touch me,” he grunts.

Your eyes widen when he pulls the skull bandana out of his back pocket, maneuvering himself around you. He pulls your hands behind your back and binds them together with the soft fabric. Once he was happy with the secureness of the knot, he’s back in front of you.

This was something new.

His fingers gently grip your chin, but he forces you to meet his gaze.

“What’s your color, baby?”

As your sexual relationship began to delve deeper, the more safe words and communication became his highest priority.

“Green… neon fucking green,” you hum.

The smirk quickly returns to his features, and his lips go back to sucking on your neck.

“Watch that pretty mouth of yours, doll or I’ll put it to use.”

You can feel the wetness starting to drip down your thighs, having absolutely no barrier due to your lack of undergarments. His hands have found their way to your breasts, kneading them in his large palms before he continues lower. Once he reaches the apex of your thighs he nearly growls, feeling your arousal coating your supple skin.

“Fuck— I need you, Eds.” you whine, already forgetting what he had just told you only moments prior.

Eddie promptly removes his hands from you, the sound of his belt clinking open has you shivering in anticipation.

“You really want to test my patience tonight, don’t you?”

You now realize your mistake.

But you can’t find it in yourself to regret it when he finally releases his cock from the confines of his jeans. You glance up at him expectantly, licking your lips at the sight of his pre-cum coating the tip. His fingers guide your mouth open and can feel your body practically buzzing with excitement.

“Since you can’t seem to listen, I’m going to use your mouth however I want. If it’s too much I need you to snap your fingers twice. Okay?”

You give him verbal confirmation and snap twice to demonstrate that you are still able to do so even with your hands bound. Satisfied with your response he grins and opens your mouth wider.

“Lemme see that tongue, baby,” he instructs.

You obey immediately and he rewards you by slapping the head of his cock against it. Once… twice… a third time… before he slips it past your lips with a groan.

Eddie’s hand fists your hair, pulling your mouth even further onto his cock. You take every inch willingly, eagerly swirling your tongue around the base of his shaft. His eyes squeeze shut, mouth slightly agape as you take him even deeper.

But you already miss his piercing gaze, now desperate for him to look at you. So you pull back until his cock slips past your lips.

His eyes shoot open and he raises a brow at you, “Did I say you could stop?”

The utter dominance in his tone and stature makes you even wetter, your thighs pressing together as he continues to stare you down with those dark eyes.

“Want you to look at me,” you plead, batting your lashes at him.

He just chuckles, keeping his gaze locked on yours when you eagerly take him back into your mouth. His fist tightens in your hair, another groan escapes him when he hits the back of your throat. A wicked grin tugs at his lips when he feels you gag around him.

“That’s right, gag on it,” he coos.

Your eyes remain locked with his as he continues to use your throat, mascara tears running freely down your cheeks with each thrust. His groans fill your ears, each one sending heat straight to your core. His lips pull up into that signature smirk as he admires the absolute mess he’s made of you.

But before he reaches that peak, he slips himself out of your mouth. It’s too soon for your liking, despite the throbbing ache between your legs. He notices the pout on your lips, now eyeing the string of saliva that keeps you connected.

“As much as I’d love to come in that bratty mouth of yours…” he pauses, wiping up some of the drool from your lips with his thumb. “I’d much rather see it dripping out of that pretty pussy instead.”

You can’t help but whimper in response, letting Eddie bend you over the center console of the vehicle. He flips your skirt up, landing a harsh smack to your ass as he nudges your legs apart with his own. You’re suddenly grateful for the console beneath you, knowing you wouldn’t have the strength to hold yourself up with your hands still bound.

Eddie grabs your bound wrists with one hand, the other slipping between your thighs.His calloused fingers run through your slick folds, and he moans at the wetness he finds there.

“God… always so wet. You’re such a little slut for me, huh? You like when I use you like this, baby?”

You merely nod, your thoughts far too jumbled from his touch that words are escaping you. But Eddie isn’t having any of it, and really you should know better.

Another harsh slap lands on your pussy this time, a shaky gasp leaving your lips.

“Come on sweetheart, tell me…”

Eddie slips two fingers into your entrance with no resistance, curling them up to hit that sweet spot inside of you. But his actions stop just as quickly as they start due to your continued silence. And when he begins to slip his fingers out, your walls contract around them in an effort to keep them nestled inside you.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?” he taunts.

You want to cry from frustration when he fully removes the digits, guiding your hips back towards him. Eddie just chuckles, before you hear him noisily suck your arousal from his fingers.

“Y-Yes, Eddie. Just please, fuck me,” you cry.

While you can’t see him, you know he’s grinning like a madman. Any further plans of begging disappear when you feel the tip of his cock rubbing through your folds. As much as he’d love to continue teasing you, his own impatience takes over and he slides into you with one hard thrust.

It doesn’t matter how many times he’s fucked you, you still feel so full. Stretched out beyond belief— it nearly takes your breath away.

Eddie doesn’t give you much warning before he’s snapping his hips back into yours. The sudden motion causes your head to lull forward and rest against the console. Your walls practically suck him in deeper, and he enjoys the pathetic little noises that leave you as he continues to slam into you.

“Fuck— you feel so good, sweetheart.”

Eddie uses your bound wrists to pound into you harder, hitting that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can already feel your orgasm bubbling up inside you, that band getting tighter as he continues his ruthless pace.

“You gonna cum already? Such a little slut…” he nearly growls, “Go on, do it. Let’s see how many times you can make a mess on my cock.”

Between his words and the constant pounding into your g-spot is what tips you over the edge, feeling your knees wobble from the force of your orgasm. Eddie begins to slow his pace, letting you ride the waves a little before he slips one of his hands between you to gently rub at your clit.

Your soft whimpers only seem to spur him on further, keeping a steady pace. But he rams into you so deeply, you swear you can feel him in your throat. Despite how slightly overstimulating the feeling is… it’s too good to stop. And you’d do anything to show Eddie how good you can actually be.

“That’s it… feels good, baby?”

You let out a small but breathy ‘uh huh’, that being the only response you can muster at this point. One orgasm has turned your brain to mush, and all you can think or feel is Eddie Eddie Eddie.

Your response has him chuckling, as the male continues to rock his hips into yours. He loves getting you to this point, so drunk on his cock that you can’t form a coherent sentence. His fingers start to pick up their pace against your bundle of nerves, feeling how your walls clench even tighter around him.

While he wants to fill you up so badly, he also wants to see how far he could push you. It was only fair.

“Wanna show me you can listen, sweetheart? Give me another one. You can do it.”

You nearly sob as your second orgasm suddenly crashes over you. While not as forceful as the first, it’s powerful enough to make your legs give out beneath you. Letting all your weight rest against the center console. Eddie is quick to help guide your hips back up, and stops the movement of his own.

You can feel the tears slipping down your cheeks when he frees your wrists, finally slipping out of you. You whimper at the loss of contact, but it’s not gone for long. As Eddie helps guide you into a sitting position, before carefully laying you back onto a pile of blankets.

He brushes the tears away from your cheeks, and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Can you give me one more? Doin’ so good for me, sweet thing.”

You practically preen at his praise, eagerly nodding when he situates himself between your legs again. He carefully lifts your trembling thighs, his touch much more gentle now. He caresses your supple skin before he slips back inside you with a deep seated groan.

You can feel how your hands begin to twitch at your sides, desperate to reach up and tangle your fingers in his curls. But his previous warning rings in your ears, only good girls can touch me. Eddie catches the subtle movement and reaches down to guide your hands up towards his head. And a loud grunt leaves him when he reaches your deepest point.

“You can touch me baby, you’ve earned it.”

He barely finishes his sentence before you’re threading your fingers through his wild curls and tugging him closer. Until your clothed chests are pressed together and you can feel the weight of his ribs against yours. Your mouths meet with a soft urgency and his tongue glides over your lower lip before slipping past them.

His pace has slowed tremendously, all in an effort to cherish the feeling of being inside you. Despite how rough can be at times, this was his favorite way to be with you. With your bodies entangled in every possible way.

While Eddie may put on a tough exterior, he’s a big softie underneath it all. And you’ve come to adore both sides of him.

He pulls away from your lips with a small gasp, greedily inhaling your mingling breath as his chestnut hues meet yours. Eddie looks beautiful like this, hovering above you all sweaty and flushed. It's truly a sight you wouldn’t grow tired of seeing. He doesn’t let lips stray too far though, leaning down to press hot kisses along your jaw towards your neck.

The brunette eagerly sucks onto the skin of your throat, tongue darting out to soothe the ache he leaves behind. One of your hands untangles itself from his tousled curls, slipping between your bodies to rub at your overly sensitive clit. Judging by how sloppy his thrusts were becoming, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

Eddie buries his face into the crook of your neck, whining when you clench harder around him. The feeling of his cock twitching inside you has your head reeling, already so close to finishing for a third time that night.

“Fuck— I love you,” he pants, each slam of his hips becomes more frantic with his admission. “I love you, sweetheart.”

His confession is all it takes to push you both over the edge. Eddie’s hips stutter as he fills you, and your body arches further into his embrace with a cry of his name. It’s so intense that you can feel how his body trembles above you, and the stars begin to dance behind your lids. The weight of his words finally starts to sink in when he collapses on top of you, blinking away the tears that fill your lash line.

The mixture of your heavy breathing fills the silence and you gently stroke his curls while you both come down from your highs. Eddie must have felt your tears dripping down onto his cheek and his head lifts to regard you with concern.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asks.

You just shake your head, pressing another kiss to his awaiting mouth. But when you pull away a little too soon for his liking, he practically pouts. You just smile fondly, nervous fluttering in your belly at what you were about to confess. Despite hearing him utter those same three words only moments prior.

“I just… I really love you too, Eddie.”

The grin that stretches across his face has your heart thumping faster, your giggles soon fill the silence in the van as he presses tender kisses everywhere he can reach.

“Love you so much, sweetheart.”

The Hideout was packed, which seemed to be an unusual occurrence for a Saturday night in small town Hawkins. But the promise of multiple live bands quickly filled the seats that usually remained empty during the week.

Ever since you became official, you easily fit in amongst his large group of friends. Even Dustin, who was weary of you in the beginning, had quickly begun to warm up to you. But you had clicked with Robin the fastest and the two of you became very close in such a short amount of time.

Most of them had come out to support the band, besides the group of freshmen. As Eddie all but forbade from stepping foot in this establishment. His overprotective nature towards them was something you found to be incredibly endearing.

You were standing at the front of the crowd, snugly in between Robin and Steve. Mostly due to Eddie’s strict instructions to keep an eye on you. He could already anticipate just how rowdy this crowd might be from the moment you entered the dingy bar.

You anxiously shift in place, taking another swig from the flask that Robin had snuck in. You hadn’t seen Eddie for more than a few minutes since he dropped you off at home earlier that morning. And you were beyond impatient for the show to get started.

It was a little annoying how much you missed him when he wasn’t around, how uneasy it made you.

But the vodka was definitely starting to help soothe your nerves.

You continued to shift from foot to foot, partially from your growing impatience and partly due to the soreness between your thighs. The round in the van had only continued once you got back to Eddie’s trailer. He buried his tongue inside you while he showed you how much he loved you from between your thighs.

It’s as though the universe could tell you were getting antsy, as the lights on the small stage finally dim. You cheer loudly and the rest of your friends join in when the four males walk out onto the stage. They all take their respective positions, and Eddie slings his guitar strap over his shoulder and adjusts the mic stand.

“Good evening Hawkins, we’re Corroded Coffin. Thanks for coming out!”

A round of boos suddenly erupt from amongst the cheers, and your head instantly whips around to find the source. You see Jason and Scott’s whole crew leaning up against the back wall of the bar, a prominent smirk on your ex’s face. Your hands balled into fists and you quickly flip them all the bird before turning your focus back towards the stage.

Scott’s incessant torment had cooled off for a bit, but that entire week it was seeming to ramp right back up. While you knew your boyfriend could take care of himself, it still didn’t stop the fury from bubbling up inside you over it. Especially knowing it had only gotten worse because of you.

You find Eddie’s gaze again and he shoots a wink your way, not even fazed by their presence. They started off their set with a cover of Bang Your Head by Quiet Riot, already getting the crowd ramped up. Eddie was totally in his element, carefree as his fingers danced along the neck of his guitar. While they played mostly covers, they were able to sneak in a few original songs.

The crowd was overly enthusiastic, which was a nice change of pace from the five sullen drunks they usually had in attendance at their normal Tuesday time slot. While Eddie was riding that high, his eyes always seemed to find their way back to you.

“Thank you guys for being such an awesome crowd, this is our last song.”

In the time that you’ve been together, you’ve come to recognize almost all of their songs. Eddie was always bouncing lyric ideas off of you, or playing them for you any chance that he could. But hearing the first few chords ring out into the bar, you knew this one was clearly new.

And if shit eating grin he was sporting was any indication, he’d been preparing for this moment. Eddie’s eyes drift from yours to the back of the dimly lit bar as he begins singing. The opening lyrics make your eyes widen in shock.

“Scotty doesn’t know that Fiona and me do it in my van every Sunday. She tells him she’s in church, but she doesn’t go. Still she’s on her knees and Scotty doesn’t know.”

Your heart begins to race and that cocky grin never leaves his face. Your eyes follow his line of sight and you turn around, watching in amusement when you notice how Scott’s fists are clenched at his sides. This is by far the angriest you’ve ever seen him, and you can almost see the metaphorical steam coming out of his ears.

“Fiona says she’s out shopping, but she’s under me and I’m not stopping…”

A smug look graces your features when Scott meets your gaze, giving him a little wave before turning back to focus on your boyfriend. Eddie’s husky voice is full of confidence as he continues onto the next verse. That sound alone could bring you to your knees.

“I can't believe he's so trusting, while I'm right behind you thrusting. Fiona's got him on the phone, and she's trying not to moan. It's a three-way call and he knows nothing, nothing…”

Your mind instantly drifts back to that fateful phone call, that night being a major turning point in your feelings towards the metalhead. Your whole body flushes at the vulgarity of the lyrics, but in an odd way you find it kind of sweet.

Once he has your attention again, Eddie blows you a subtle kiss.

“The parkin' lot, why not? It's so cool when you're on top. His front lawn in the snow, life is so hard 'cause Scotty doesn't know! Scotty doesn't know!”

You watch in fascination as his fingers work diligently over the guitar strings, banging his head along with Jeff. The song aside, you really were enjoying yourself. Eddie lets his guitar fall to his hip, gripping the mic with both hands.

“I did her on his birthday…”

Your curiosity has gotten the better of you again, and you glance back to where Scott had previously been standing. The spot was now empty, much to your surprise. Scott was never one to back down without getting the last word. So you let your eyes wander around the bar, but Scott and his posse were nowhere in sight.

When the song starts to come to a close, Eddie and the rest of the guys have gathered at the front of the stage. Huddled together as they chanted a chorus of, ‘Scotty doesn’t know’, the crowd joining in unison. When you glance over at Robin, her grin practically matches that of your boyfriend’s.

While you had never explicitly told anyone (besides Robin) the details of how everything played out between you two, your ex definitely had his suspicions.

But now, one thing was for sure…

Scotty definitely knew.

sdk taglist: @xxbimbobunnyxx @munsonhoneybaby @mugloversonly @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @transparentenemypenguin @calumfmu @vamp-bunny @eddiesxangel @nailbatanddungeon @deathst9r @comeonatmebruh @mrsjellymunson @eddiesghxst @eddiesguitarskills @callsignraver @eldermayfield @potatobeans99 @loserboysandlithium @em0220

[kinascum]

LATER, BOY - M. STURNIOLO

SUMMARY: Nerd!Matt admires Popular!Reader from afar until he gathers the courage to approach her, sparking a journey of self-discovery and budding romance.

CONTENTS: NERD!Matt, POPULAR!reader, second hand embarrassment from Matt, Matt's a simp im sorry

WORDCOUNT: 745

next part (coming soon)

Matt's eyes remained glued to the screen of his phone, scrolling through the endless feed of social media updates. His thumb hovered over the heart button, contemplating whether to like or pass the latest post from Y/N, the vibrant girl who always had a smile for everyone. Her laughter echoed through the school halls, and her voice was a melody that filled every corner with warmth. He had heard it a hundred times, but had never dared to join the conversations she so effortlessly navigated.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to look up. Y/N was there, in the flesh, standing just a few feet away from him, surrounded by her usual gaggle of friends. Her eyes met his for a brief moment, and she offered a smile that seemed to be just for him. His heart stumbled in his chest, and he quickly returned to the safety of his screen, cheeks flaming. It was a daily dance, one he was too scared to break out of. But today was different. He felt a strange resolve coalescing within him, urging him to step out of his comfort zone.

With trembling hands, he shoved his phone into his pocket and approached her group. The air grew thick with anticipation as he got closer, each step feeling like a mile. "Hey, Y/N," he managed to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper. She looked over, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "Hi, Matt!" she exclaimed, her voice as cheerful as ever. The others in her group turned to look at him, and he felt the weight of their collective gaze. His heart was racing now, a wild stallion in his chest.

"I just wanted to tell you," he began, the words tumbling out faster than he could control, "that I think you're really amazing. Like, the most amazing person I've ever met." He felt the heat of his own embarrassment, but pushed through it, his eyes never leaving hers. The group had gone quiet, watching the unfolding scene with curious expressions. Y/N's smile grew softer, and she took a step closer to him. "That's really sweet, Matt," she said, her voice gentle. "Thank you."

For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. Then she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "But, I uh... I have to go. I'm late for practice." And with that, she turned away, leaving him standing there, stunned. His heart sank, the brief spark of hope extinguished by the cold reality of his situation. He watched her retreating back, the words he had rehearsed a hundred times in his head now seeming so trivial. He had taken the plunge, and all he had to show for it was a simple thank you.

The conversation around him resumed, but he barely heard it. His mind was racing with thoughts of what he could have said, what he should have done differently. But as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, he realized that he had done it. He had talked to her. And she had talked back. It was a small victory, but it was something. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for him after all. As he gathered his books and started walking to his next class, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope, a glimmer that grew stronger with each step he took away from the shadow of his shyness.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. His mind kept replaying their brief interaction, analyzing every word, every gesture. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed, that the invisible barrier that had separated them for so long had been breached. When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, he found himself walking home with a slightly lighter step, his thoughts swirling with the possibility of what could come next.

The next day, as he made his way to his locker, he saw her again. She was talking to a group of friends, her laughter pealing through the hallway. His heart quickened, and he felt the same fear and excitement that had gripped him the day before. But this time, he didn't hesitate. He walked straight up to her, his books clutched tightly to his chest. "Hey, Y/N," he said, his voice a little steadier this time. She looked up, her eyes meeting his, and she gave him a smile that seemed to hold a hint of curiosity.

"Hi, Matt," she replied, her voice as bright as the sun. "How was your day?" He swallowed, trying to form a coherent response. "It was okay," he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. "I heard about the game tomorrow," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Are you going?" He nodded, his heart racing. "Yeah, I might go." It was a lie. He had no intention of going to the game, but the thought of seeing her there made his palms sweat. "Maybe I'll see you there," she said, and with a wave, she was off again, leaving him to stare after her, feeling like he had just been handed the world on a silver platter.

The days that followed were a series of small moments like this. They passed each other in the halls, exchanged brief hellos, and occasionally shared a smile. Each interaction was a tiny victory for Matt, each smile a beacon of hope that grew brighter with every passing second. He began to feel less like the invisible nerd and more like a boy with a chance. He started to pay more attention to his appearance, wearing clothes that made him feel confident, practicing his smile in the mirror until it didn't feel forced. The slow burn of their friendship was growing into something more, something he hadn't dared to dream of.

tags! @sturnstvs @gxldenlush @immattsslut @slut4chriss hope you liked!

[hannieehaee]

helo! could i ask svt members in a scenario where they were almost attacked by some crazy fan but we protected them? (bc we strong 😎) thank u! <3

you protecting them from an attack from a fan

content: mentions of crazy fans, mentions of a possible attack, mentions of crowds, mentions of injuries, angst, fluff, etc.

wc: 1833

a/n: sorry i took so long T-T

masterlist

seungcheol -

he'd be so angry at everyone involved: his staff for not taking charge, the fan for overstepping in such a dangerous way, you for putting yourself in danger for him, and himself too, for somehow creating the situation in the first place. he'd be extremely irrational about it, getting into an emotional argument with you for thinking he'd ever be okay with you putting yourself between him and a dangerous situation. deep inside he'd feel touched that you had instinctively wanted to put him out of harm's way, but he would still need a while to calm down before admitting he was being irrational. in reality, he had never felt as loved as he did in that moment. he knew you loved him, but to put his safety above all with no second thought? yeah, you were the absolute love of his life.

jeonghan -

despite being an overall chill guy, this would be one of the very rare occasions in which his anger would come out. at first he would've been in absolute shock at the fan who had rushed to him, pulling at his arm to get his attention. what shocked him more, however, was the way in which you separated him from their hold, now receiving a blow from the irrational fan due to your intrusion. the anger would show on his face immediately. although he wouldn't do anything to express his frustrations, he would begin ranting at his security the moment you were all alone while simultaneously cooing at you and apologizing for ever putting you in harm's way.

joshua -

his protective side would come out the moment he realized that your intentions were to protect him from whatever the hell was going on in front of him. he stopped caring about what the deranged fan was trying to do to him the moment he saw you try and step between him and the dangerous situation. he'd pull you back to him the moment security caught air of what was going on, cradling you in his arms as he whispered that he was okay and that you were okay too, pleading with you to please never do that again. no matter the situation, he never wanted you getting involved with the actions of the few of his fans who'd be willing to go as far as harming him for some attention.

jun -

he'd watch the whole altercation in shock. from the moment you stepped in front of him upon seeing the agitated fan approach, to the moment security finally stepped in to put you out of harm's way. luckily nothing had happened; it had just been a scare caused by a fan who did not understand boundaries, but something could've very well happened. the thought made jun shiver, thinking of how his distracted nature hadn't allowed him to scope out the situation and making you have to take action to protect him instead. the thought of you standing in front of him to protect him without even having to think about it for a second made him feel both pride and guilt. he'd be all over you after that, not letting you out of his hold as he mumbled apologies and i love you's into your hair.

soonyoung -

he was very fast on his feet the moment he noticed the fan approaching in a suspicious way, but apparently you were faster, taking the impact from the fan trying to grab at him and getting hurt in the process. although it was only a very small impact, soonyoung would still be fuming at any harm done to you. the moment security de escalated the situation, he would choose to coo at you and baby you instead of allowing his frustration at the situation to emerge. it was all said and done anyway, so his main priority would just be to make sure you were okay. he wouldve felt touched that your first instinct was too take care of him, but wouldve also felt disappointed that he couldn't say the same for himself.

wonwoo -

the moment you saw him covering his ears and facing down as the two of you walked through the large crowd surrounding you and a few of his other members, you had taken it upon himself to be just as rude as the fans, physically pushing people out of the way as you simultaneously became a human shield for wonwoo. despite a few people pushing back, with both yours and his security's efforts, wonwoo had managed to feel more at ease. the moment you reached your destination, wonwoo would wordlessly hold you in his arms and bury his head in the crook of your neck, thanking you for thinking of him and apologizing for making you feel like you had to do that for him. would feel conflicted about the situation, but the swelling in his heart couldnt be helped at the thought of you protecting him like this.

jihoon -

the same way he's scolded fans for calling him on the phone while he's live, he would also scold this one to their face as security took them away after having attempted to attack you for getting between them and jihoon. jihoon hadn't noticed a fan running to him, much less had he noticed you stepping in front of him and pulling him away from their direct line of contact. although it seemed like the fan wasnt going to attack him, but more so try and engage in some type of physical contact, you still took action due to your protective nature over jihoon. as thankful as he felt, he was mostly shocked and worried at the whole altercation, being unable to hold back from telling the individual off for having tried to harm you for simply being watchful of him. he'd constantly check up on you after that, now overly alert of his surroundings as he wanted to avoid ever putting you in that situation again (no matter how touched he felt at your instinctive worries for him).

seokmin -

poor boy wouldnt know how to react, which wouls lead him to instant regret the moment the situation escalated and security had to intervene. you two had been walking around a mall together (with security walking a few steps behind) when a group of rowdy fans began approaching, growing annoyed very quickly upon his polite dismissals of them. they began pulling at his sleeve and bag, trying to incite him to stop for just a moment. he wasn't a confrontational person, but apparently you were, as you immediately pushed their hands off them, causing them to try and retaliate, which was when security stepped in. he would insist in taking you home after that, needing immediate assurance that you were okay and hadnt been harmed in any way. would be constantly apologetic to you for a while, insisting on keeping you both under lock and key in his house until the shock wore off.

mingyu -

he wouldnt want to show his angry emotions about the situation, instead opting to stand between you and harm's way the moment he noticed you'd stepped in front of him with his protection in mind. he could never allow you to put yourself in any type of danger for him, and the fact that you had been in such a position for even one second would make him fume, specially knowing it had been a deranged fan who had caused it. he would do his best to not scold you afterwards, simply telling you that it was his job to protect you and that he'd never take his eyes (or hands) off you again if that would ensure yours and his safety.

minghao -

his demeanor would instantly shift, taking on a very serious attitude as he immediately took action upon realizing you had stepped in to try and protect him. his heart would swell at the thought, but that feeling would be immediately replaced with anger at whoever put him in this situation, having also put you in danger. afterwards he would have a stern talk with you, telling you to never put yourself in harm's way ever again. he loves you so much, and he knows you love him just as much, but he'd be willing to be a hypocrite in saying that was his job to take care of you, not the other way around.

seungkwan -

he would've screamed the moment he realized a fan had stepped out of line and even gotten into a tiny altercation with you as you stepped between him and the deranged fan. his scream wouldve alerted his security, who easily took it from there. would be paralyzed in shock for a bit before checking in on you, quite literally doing a check up on you to see if you got hurt in any way, despite the altercation not having gotten physical. after that, he would scold you for even thinking about putting yourself in danger to stand up for him, rambling about how hurt you could've gotten had the fan been carrying a weapon. wouldve felt thankful and well loved by your gesture, but the heart attack he almost got wouldnt have been worth it.

vernon -

he wouldn't have realized what happened until the situation was already over. a fan had been quite literally running at him, but you had somehow managed to step in before his own security did. this, however, meant you had taken the brunt of it, making vernon immediately turn to you and take you away to a private place. he'd let his security take care of the person who had tried to harm him, not really giving much of a fuck what happened to a person who'd cross boundaries in that way, even going as far as hurting you due to their carelessness. he'd scold you lightheartedly, telling you that his heart had almost fallen all the way to his ass. would be more affectionate than usual, not wanting to separate himself from you should anything else happen.

chan -

he couldve sworn he aged at least ten years from the stress he felt at those five seconds in which you decided to walk in front of him to take the brunt of the obsessed fan in front of you trying to get at him. luckily, his security stepped in immediately, dragging them away before either of you could get harmed in any way. he wouldnt scold you but he'd rant his frustrations at you afterward, telling you that you were gonna kill him if you ever pulled that again. your safety came above his, always. he didn't care if that was hypocritical of him. he was already putting you in borderline dangerous situations by just being seen out in public with him, he didnt want to add an extra layer of risk to your life by having you try and protect him. would still been insanely touched at knowing you prioritizes his safety as much as he did yours.

[alwayscorvus]

Waking up from nightmares - Wuthering Waves Characters

Waking up from nightmares - WuWa Characters

malereader x Jiyan/Calcharo/Mortefi/Yuanwu/YangYang/Baizhi (separated), fluff, scenarios;

mxm or mxg; they can be a little out of character;

Yuanwu

You saw it again. Your partner slipping away, on the ground, in your arms. Just because you arrived too late to rescue him.

You couldn't get over it. Your heart started beating like crazy. Tears came to your eyes. And seconds later you woke up. With a headache that was killing you.

You growled angrily at yourself. Again you let yourself be swept away by those awful illusions.

You looked around, but in the darkness you couldn't see what you were looking for. Nor could you sense it. Unsatisfied, you moved closer to other side of a bed. Fortunately, this helped you reach your partner.

You hugged him gently around his waist and he instinctively woke up by that.

When it came to him that you were not an assassin, only his fiancé, he just murmured questioningly.

-I'm sorry - you replied with slight guilt - Bad dream

-I didn't know that boys your age still have nightmares - he said teasingly.

At which you pinched him with a scowling face.

-Oi oi I was just joking - he assured while snorting lightly, really amused by your behavior.

-This old jokes are not really funny

-Maybe for you - he replied trying to light the mood.

After a while, however, he turned towards you and returned the hug.

-Are you all right? - he asked this time with clear concern in his voice.

-Yes, because I am here with you now

Jiyan

At first second you were running through the middle of a battle, escaping from monsters.

And at the next one you were snatching your upper body from a bedsheets scattered all over your tent.

Your eyes were wide open and your mouth gaped.

You don't know how long it took. Seconds, minutes or maybe more.

Eventually, however, you came back to reality. You calmed your breathing and looked around, recalling where you actually were. Still at least a couple of kilometers away from a battlefield.

You threw something over your uncovered shoulders and blindly walked out of a tent.

A small campfire and glow of stars allowed you to see more than just a tip of your own nose. You were deeply grateful for that.

A few steps away, just under a large tree, Jiyan seated himself. As you thought, he had taken over the watch over this part of a camp.

Even though it should be done by someone lower in rank, Jiyan still felt this strange sense of responsibility inside him. A need to be sure that all his comrades were safe.

You used to try to talk him out of it, but over time you got used to it. And at this exact moment you needed something other than an argument.

With a sleepy steps you walked through the separating distance and took place right next to him.

Beaten, you rested your head on his shoulder and closed your tired eyes.

-Bad dream? -he asked just for affirmation.

And you murmured with a nod, snuggling your head more into his body. Trying to find a perfect position and insisting on getting those few more precious minutes of sleep.

Jiyan understood well what you were facing. He himself had experienced it many times. Nightmares only escalated the more you approached your next battle. Memories kept coming back and phantoms of your lost comrades haunted you after nights.

Yet he also knew that there was no way to deal with it.

So he took your hand in his and began to knead it gently. He didn't want to express his feelings too much in public, but at the same time he wanted to reassure you about his presence. Hoping that his support would allow you to relax and drift off. While he kept protecting you both.

Mortefi

-[M/N]! [M/N]! -irritated Mortefi slapped your arm several times. Stubbornly trying to get out of your embrace. He didn't know about what terrible thing you were dreaming, but whatever it was, it made you squeeze him with an unhuman strength. Almost crushing his fragile body.

-[M/N]!

Your heart beat faster.

Suddenly you opened your eyes. Your grip only tightening.

-Mortefi? -you asked hesitantly. Wanting to make sure of his nearness.

-It won't be for long, if some fool doesn't stop suffocating me! - Mortefi hissed with a fake anger in his voice.

And without warning, he flashed with colors of his scales. Thanks for that, even in the darkness, you could see his sulky face for a split second.

-Oh… sorry.

Still not fully awake, though rather sad, you loosened your grip. Mortefi immediately crawled out of your arms and moved to a sitting position.

However, hearing your voice, his heart melted. Real Mortefi instantly returned.

-Can- can I do something for you? -he asked unsurely, angry at himself over how he had jumped on you.

For a moment, he just really felt close to getting broken ribs.

-Oh, no baby no -you assured- Nothing really, don't worry -you suddenly raised yourself on your elbows- Are you alright? Did I hurt you?

Mortefi rapidly shook his head. However, he quickly remembered that with the light off you couldn't see it.

Not wanting to bring up the subject again, he reached out his hands in your direction.

At first contact, his fingers gently brushed your neck. Slowly he moved his hands higher. Stopping on your cheeks. He squeezed them tighter, pulling your head in his direction and laying it on his stomach.

-Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you - you asked slightly heartbroken. At that, Mortefi could almost picture you with imaginary flopped ears.

-Then I'll wake you up again- he assured, quite embarrassed.

-What did you dream about? - he changed the topic.

You just frowned and mumbled, not really wanting to return to that.

-Do you want me to sing for you? - he bit his lip unsurely, recalling situations from the past.

You rapidly nodded your head, and Mortefi laughed lightly at the sensation of your tickling hair.

He grabbed your strands and began to gently play with them. Massaging your head in the process. After a long moment, he began humming a lullaby from his childhood.

Calcharo

You jumped off the bed with a silent scream. Looking straight ahead, you were inhaling air with a greedy gasps. While thick drops of sweat ran down your face, chest was dropping and rising like crazy.

You involuntarily slid your hand out to your right side, in search of help. Instead of the expected warmth of your partner's body, you appeared to come into a contact with the cooling bedsheets.

You rushed with your eyes to the other half of a bed.

Calcharo was nowhere to be seen.

Though still in shock, you made your way to the hallway.

A dim light came from a small kitchen, so you followed its path.

When you crossed a doorway of room, your partner came into a view.

Calcharo was standing backwards. In his hand he was holding a cup with an unidentified drink.

-Care to join me?

He turned towards you. As if completely unfazed by your presence. Even though it happened to you for the first time.

Still hot and overwhelmed with emotion, you looked at him more closely. Despite your distraction, you couldn't help but notice a slightly torn white T-shirt. Signs of overclocking.

-What-… what's that? - you asked hesitantly while slowly stabilizing your breathing.

Man spun around once again. Though this time sideways, to the close stove. He pulled a new cup from a cabinet and turned his attention to a pot from which steam was still floating.

He moved as smoothly as if things that he had just experienced were completely normal for him.

-One of my clients said that hot milk helps. Not that I believe him. But we are wasted anyway.

Baizhi

You were awakened from your nightmare by a gentle shaking. You gritted your teeth and squeezed your eyelids tighter. Trying to banish a sight of fallen comrades from your mind.

-[M/N]? -someone squeezed your shoulder harder.

You pulled yourself up on a bed. Sliding your hand out of a pair of delicate palms. You opened your eyes blinking several times. You could feel something wet slide off your forehead. A cold compress.

-You started to sweat a lot and tremble as well - someone explained monotonously and quietly.

You turned towards direction of that voice. Sight of your girlfriend came into a view. Light of a candle placed on your bedside table was falling on her body dressed-up in your white shirt.

Baizhi looked like she hadn't slept for a fairly long time.

-At first I wasn't sure if it was a nightmare or an illness. But after a long analysis, I came to the conclusion that it was just a bad dream.

You looked at her confused and at the same time slightly offended.

-Just?

Baizhi looked down at her hands, avoiding eye contact. She bit her cheek gently.

You were already about to say something when she got up from her knees and, almost jumping off the bed, ran to the cabinet.

-Herbal tea made with flowers from Taoyuan Vale. It is supposed to help with sleep - she straightened her hands, moving cup closer to you. By doing so, she bowed in traditional way, with expectation of you accepting her gift.

Drink definitely left a bitter aftertaste, but at the same time it strangely calmed you down.

-Thank you, Baizhi - you replied with genuine gratitude. Corners of her mouth gently lifted upward. Not to mention a slight blush on her cheeks.

Yangyang

Frightened, you rose quickly from a bed. Panting heavily. In your head you still saw that chase. Or rather, an escape. In this dream, you were the prey.

You quickly pulled yourself together. You wanted to go right back to sleep, just to avoid waking up your girlfriend.

However, when you were about to rest your back against the mattress once again, something prevented you from doing so. And it wasn't that suspiciously lit bedside lamp. Something was stubbornly squeezing your hand.

You looked to the side. Your girlfriend was kneeling by your bed. Waves of her black hair splashed across your duvet, right next to your body.

-Yangyang? -you asked softly. Girl, however, didn't respond.

You dipped your free hand into her hair and gently stroked her strands. Trying not to get tangled in them, and in the same time awaken your partner. Slowly you repeated her name louder and louder until she finally woke up.

-[M/N]!

She immediately got off the floor and threw herself around your neck, squeezing as hard as she could.

-I was so scared! -she spoke in a shaky voice- I tried so hard to wake you up, but- but I couldn't! And you-. you just…-

Words caught in her throat, she couldn't finish. She began to swallow air and tears greedily.

Worried, you squeezed her torso, pushing her back by a short distance.

-Hey, babe. I'm completely fine, you have nothing to worry about -you assured, stroking her cheek in a calming manner.

You quickly forgot about your nightmare when all your attention got preoccupied with taking care of one tiny soul.

[eiralunaire]

Damian Wayne/SirenReader.

Damian Wayne, always in search of moments of solitude and reflection away from Gotham, had decided to explore a coastline isolated from the city. It was not a touristy or well-known place; it was a forgotten corner of the world, where the ocean met imposing cliffs and the rocks formed a kind of natural refuge, ideal for someone looking for a moment of peace.

The sound of the sea hitting the rocks was almost hypnotic, and the salty air filled his lungs as he walked on the wet sand. He had heard ancient legends of that coast, of sea creatures, but he had not paid much attention to them. For someone like Damian, always focused on the real and tangible, those stories were nothing more than myths.

However, that afternoon, something made him stop. As he walked along the edges of the rocks, he glimpsed something unusual in the distance, something that did not fit with the landscape. In the soft light of dusk, he saw a female figure sitting on a large rock, her back to him. What caught his attention was not just the figure, but the silvery glow reflecting around her. It was as if her skin or… scales? captured the sunlight.

The girl seemed to be basking in the afternoon sun, her long hair shining, and her agile hands braiding strands of that hair that seemed to blend with the color of the ocean. From his angle, Damian couldn't see everything clearly, but there was something different about her. Legends began to resonate in his mind.

He moved forward cautiously, his steps silent as always, but even with his training in stealth, a small crunch of sand between the rocks made the female figure suddenly raise her head. Their eyes met for a second. His, dark and cautious; hers, an indescribable color, almost as if they changed with the reflection of the water.

Reader looked at him, her heart beating violently in her chest. The stories of her family came to her mind like a slap of reality. Since she was little, she had heard the warnings of her grandparents and parents in the depths: "Humans are destructive by nature. What they touch, they destroy. They are dangerous and have no mercy for the life they do not understand." And there she was, right in front of one of those humans she had been warned to avoid at all costs.

Her instinct made her react. She let go of the lock of hair she had been braiding and pushed herself into the water. Damian took a step forward, raising his hand by reflex.

"Wait!" she exclaimed, but she had already disappeared into the sea, with a speed that defied any notion of what he believed possible.

From his place, Damian watched as the mermaid's tail sank into the depths, the silver flash disappearing into the dark blue of the ocean. It was real. A mermaid, just as the legends described.

Reader, as he swam quickly, felt his chest oppressed, not from physical effort, but from fear. She knew she had to stay away from humans. Her ancestors had taught her that there was no safe place where humans set foot. She herself had seen, albeit from a distance, how fishing boats cast nets and destroyed marine life without mercy. It was the fear of the unknown, of the incomprehensible.

But something about this human had been different. In the brief eye contact, she had not seen the threat she had always been told she would encounter. There was something else in his eyes, perhaps curiosity or surprise, but not the coldness she had been warned about.

Yet she knew she could not trust him. She could not take any risks.

As she moved further and further away from the coast, her mind kept replaying the encounter. Had she made a mistake in leaving so quickly? But then, the echo of her family's warnings reassured her. She had done the right thing, she told herself, remembering the stories of destruction. After all, humans could not be trusted.

From the shore, Damian stood still for long minutes, looking at the calm water. The sun was setting, painting the sky a soft orange. What he had just seen had no logical explanation, but something in him, in his heart and his instinct, told him that it had not been a simple accident. The mermaid had fled, but something told him that it would not be the last time he would see her.

On his way back, as he walked along the sand, his mind began to work. He did not know if he should investigate more about the legends or let the encounter remain a mystery. What he did know was that, at that moment, he had felt a strange connection with that marine figure. A connection that he could not easily ignore.

Without realizing it, his curiosity, and perhaps something else, was already pushing him towards a new search.