.⋆.˚✮ i’m ness rose, or ness. 20. ❥ late october baby and you can tell ✗.:* writing like i get paid to do it ✗✗.⋆.˚✮ dick grayson girlie ‘til i die .:*☆ taking requests.. never. taking asks.. always! party girl with her eyes on the stars .⋆.˚✮ media obsessed *:.✗✗✗ block if there’s an issue ☻ !!
✗✗✗ and to really get even more specific:
ᥫ᭡. m.list ᥫ᭡. rules ᥫ᭡ about me ᥫ᭡. forms ᥫ᭡. ao3 ᥫ᭡.
“want me to,” he grunts, shifting to show you what he means. shifting until his arm’s looped around your neck. it’s not tight, not painful, scary. more like a big, warm pillow to rest your head on as he fucks into you. (hopefully.)
it’s like he’s read your mind. like he knows what you think about after an unsatisfying hook-up, where the guy thought he’d get head and that was it. what’s on your mind as you slip your fingers through soaked underwear in your dreadfully empty apartment, heart pounding like he’d know about it.
“uh, y-yeah,” you reply, mouth dry. “please.”
you need him desperately, like he’s an oasis and you’re stranded in the desert.
“say the word, love,” he whispers into your ear, taking full advantage of the position to nip at the lobe. “an’i’ll stop. okay?”
you sigh, settling into the plush mattress underneath his weight.
life happens and three months go by and everyone’s convinced i dropped a story with a first part of over 8k words.
i pushed myself to get it out and on reread there’s so many mistakes and typos. i want to make sure part two lives up to the hype and gets all of my attention.
like people used to go five years without fic updates i PROMISE you’ll get more 😭😭
but i love you all. it’s still really meaningful that you guys loved part one so much. please be patient and have some trust and faith in me, PLEASE!
good girls go to heaven, bad girls get what they deserve
a nasty little ghost x reader blurb
alluded to dom/sub relationship, public.. uh.. something but whatever it is it’s definitely public (spanking), exhibitionism, second-half embarrassment, probably (sorry!)
everybody say thank you, bri! we wouldn't have this blurb without her and her beautiful mind. my muse 😘
18+, sexually explicit something
“I have to listen to him, though,” you explain, gesturing wildly with your drink. “Or else I get into trouble.”
The rest of the 141 sit in front of you, expressions varying. Your captain, Price, looks amused, cheeks rosy above his beard. Soap’s eyes are half-lidded, a half-wowed, half-incredulous smile on his face, while Gaz gives you a slightly concerned grimace, eyebrows knit in the middle of his forehead. He’s really regretting asking you about your relationship with Ghost.
The bar’s full but not shoulder-to-shoulder full, bodies swaying to the music, others clamoring for another drink at the bar, taking down shots. A group out front shares a lighter as they create a cloud of smoke at the entrance, their laughter trickling into the room.
“Wha’ kind o’ trouble, lass?” Soap says, indulging you as he takes another swig of his ale. Price just shakes his head, puffing on his cigar, Gaz shooting his teammate a look from the side of his eye.
You giggle, chewing on your straw at the corner of your mouth, a cheshire cat smile on your lips.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, Johnny.”
“Didnae ask for no reason,” he replies, and Price chuckles.
“Kinda depends on what I’m not listening to him about. If it’s little, like forgetting to take my meds, he’ll basically forcefeed them to me. Cause and effect, y’know?”
Price hasn’t stopped chuckling under his breath. Gaz is nodding, eyes wide like he’s watching a car crash in real time, unable to stop the inevitable.
“But if it’s bigger, like not being careful enough on a mission, or something, he gets to do whatever he wants to me.”
“Whatever he wants..?” Soap echoes, and you nod, huffing out a laugh.
“Yeah,” you start, “like—,”
It’s then that you register the sound of your last teammate sucking his teeth behind you, slightly muffled from his mask. Like a dog that’s clicker trained, your mouth snaps shut.
Two thoughts slide into place at once, ringing through your head like a typewriter resetting to the start of the next line.
Simon’d been gone so long in the bathroom, on a smoke break, at the bar, whatever, that you’d forgotten he was here.
You’re way drunker than you thought you were, spilling your guts to coworkers like this.
“Got anything else to say?” Ghost grits out from behind you, his voice so low, so raw and clearly furious that goosebumps immediately erupt over your entire body.
Everything in you is telling you to get to your feet as fast as possible and run.
“N-no,” you reply, mouth dry, heart thumping hard in your ears like a nervous rabbit. Right now he is a predator, you his prey, your mind full of his teeth glinting in the dark as his maw snaps shut around your leg, fangs sinking into your flesh. You think of him, combat ready, gear strapped to his body and larger than life.
You’ve been flying entirely too close to the sun, wings melting as you fall into the open arms of the sea, Simon’s thick hands grasping yours as he puts your drink down on the table and moves to sit at the edge of the bench seat.
You’re really, really starting to regret that you wore a skirt tonight.
“Riley,” Price warns, taking the cigar from his mouth. A thrill runs through your body at the slight worry pressed into the features of his face.
“I know wha’ I’m doin’, Captain.” He replies, words cutting like a glacier through the black sea. Daring his superior to push him further than he’s already gone.
But this is nothing for you and Ghost.
You’ve been in active battle zones, with your left hand zip tied to his belt because you ‘wouldn’t stop disappearing on him.’ He’s made you complete missions with your underwear in his pocket, the fabric of your fatigues chafing the delicate skin around your pussy. You’ll never forget the cooing sounds he’d made when he saw the rubbed raw, red skin around your crotch. Or the way he then teased you, kissing and licking everywhere except where you wanted him to, a sadistic smile baring his teeth. The countless times he’s blindfolded you, put in your gun range earplugs in his bed, just to work on the fact that you weren’t trusting him implicitly out in the field.
So no, him bending you over his knee in a dive bar is not the craziest thing the two of you have ever done.
Just this time you’re slightly more drunk. However, the petulance behind your actions is the same as always.
Your knees meet sticky floor, lacy panties peeking out as your skirt lifts. No one except your team is aware of what’s about to happen, but you’re sure plenty will be soon. From your new position, you can hear Soap suck in a breath, rolling your eyes. Never seen asscheeks before, Johnny?
SImon’s big hand rubs down your back, stopping at your hipbones. You easily and readily recognize this as your chance to end the scene, to say no.
None of that happens, and after a beat, Simon lifts his hand again, positioning it over your ass.
“Count them,” he growls, and at your poised nod, his palm swings down, cracking against your bare skin.
“One,” you retort, unaffected. You’re no rookie, here.
Simon, in spite of himself you’re sure, huffs out a breath from his nose. You know he loves the attitude, no matter how much time he spends trying to fuck it out of you.
And again, his hand connects, skin on skin, and it’s nothing you haven’t felt before.
“Two.”
“Ghost,” Gaz mutters, clearly flustered. “You can’t be serious.”
“As a heart attack, Garrick, thank you.” Your lover replies, words like a cell door sliding into place. Final, brooking no further arguments.
His next hit is harder, without warning or fanfare, and you’re not ready. It hurts.
“T-Three,” you gasp, voice strangled. People are starting to glance over, but the semi-darkness is enough in the way of privacy that they can’t quite make out what’s happening.
Simon hums, leaning in and blocking out the rest of the team, speaking only for your ears. “If you can’t figure out how to keep your mouth shut, I’ll make use of that next time and fuck your throat until you can’t talk for the next three days.”
When you don’t reply, his fist wraps into your hair, pulling your head back until he’s looking at you. “Understood?”
“Yes.”
Simon sighs, deeply and oh-so-disappointed. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Aye,” Johnny blurts from behind him. “I can’t take this.”
“Go get me another beer, then,” his Captain calls, clearly only half-joking.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Simon spanks you again.
“Four,” you say, breathing heavily as Johnny walks away, obviously adjusting himself as he heads over to the bar.
Simon’s cock twitches against your side, almost a threat, a promise of what’s to come.
He’s killing you and he knows it, not giving in to the arch in your back, the press of your tits to his leg. His palm connects for the final time, and you’re so wet your own arousal could start dripping down your thigh soon.
“Five,” you whimper, eyes fluttering closed as Simon pulls you to your feet. He kisses your forehead and you swear you hear Gaz muffle a gasp.
You reach for your drink, face hot, the whole situation feeling slightly surreal, but Simon stops you.
“Wh-I’m not done!” You protest, eyebrows furrowed.
Ghost tuts, and you swear he’s got a pouty lip going on underneath the mask as he mocks you. “That’s too bad, love. Shoulda thought o’ that before you told the team about our little arrangement.”
His eerie calm is sending you a rather clear message: you fucked up, and you’ll be paying for it later.
Once you’re out of the bar, Simon unceremoniously ducks down, hoisting you over his shoulder. You’re too used to it and too tipsy to care, ass covered by one of Simon’s hands as he lumbers down the street.
thanks for the tag, @whispersoflost , @keeryspullman, @tellcherhesgone , @cha0ticstranger, & @moonstoneandmoonlight!!!
sorry if you've already done this, guys: @keer-y , @lofi-fics, @holawdw , @riddlersoupwrites, @djocufics, @delusionsofgrandeur13. & if you're reading this and want to do it, consider this your tag.
