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dollwrites · 5 months

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𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 — 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!student!reader, titty fucking ( busty!reader ), oral sex ( m!receiving ), facial ( gojo loves skincare!! ) noncon, little bit of manipulation, suggested age gap / power dynamic, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 ∣ @tomatop [ thank you so much, i hope you like it! ]

“You look scared to death, baby girl.” Gojo was muttering with amusement as his long leg juts out behind him, kicking the door closed. it effectively traps you in the room with him, and at the same time, blocks out the dim light from the quiet hallway. your heart pounds heavy against your chest when darkness engulfs the room, and you reach out to flip the light switch, but his hand clapping around your wrist halts your movement, and your breath catches in your throat. “Don’t be. I’m not gonna eat ya.” you can feel the warmth of his body, and the wave of his breath against the shell of your ear, and you realize he’s right behind you. so close that the taunt muscles masked by his uniform bump against your shoulder blades. “Not until I’m done having my fun with you.”

a husky chuckle bubbles up from his throat, and you let out a nervous giggle, too. you’re not sure why you do that— maybe to ease the growing anxiety within you. but it embarrasses you how timid you sound when you murmur, “I don’t think we’re supposed to be in here—“

his hand careens upwards to grasp yours, guiding your delicate fingers to the light switch and flicking it. in a moment’s time, the room is flooded with the glow, and you realize you were staring down at your own feet. your bare knees peek out from underneath the navy skirt, tucked inwards towards one another.

“But, what better place to hold an exam than a quiet classroom?”

you turn to look over your shoulder at him, your perplexity getting the better of you. only, you hadn’t expected him to be so close. his blinding sapphires peeking out just enough from behind his sunglasses to make your heart skip a beat, and his cocky smirk inches from your face. “I— oh, I’m being tested??”

his smirk stretches wider, and he nods. “Mhm.” he answers simply, before taking a step closer to you. he would’ve knocked into you, had you not stumbled back just in time. “I wanna see just how badly you really want me as a mentor. Do you know what that means?” you shake your head, starting to take another step back when he swaggers closer, but this time, he reaches out as grasps your uniform top, stilling you in your tracks. your eyes widen, and flit downwards to see his slender digits creeping between the buttons, slithering like two, devious snakes, beneath the fabric. upon seeing your apprehension, as well as feeling your breasts heave with a heavy breath, Gojo chuckles again. “You gotta earn it, baby girl.”

as soon as the words left his lips, a shudder slipped down your spine, and he hooked his fingers against your blouse, anchoring them from the inside, and popping buttons as he wrenches it open to expose your chest to him. you were thankful for the durability of your bra where your uniform top had failed you, and the partially secured mounds ripple in response to his rough treatment of your garments. an inaudible gasp leaves your lips parted followed by a soft cry of protest, “W—wait..!” your face heating up with a furious blush, and Gojo elicits a soft, playful whistle.

“There we go. I’ve been waiting long enough to see what those tits looked like under that tight, little top you wear.” your new teacher snickers, allowing his middle finger to curl around the underwire of your lingerie, his knuckle nesting in your warm cleavage, and he uses that grip to pull you back to his body, sighing in content when you stumble, and your breasts smush against his chest. “Come a little bit closer, let me feel ‘em.”

both of his hands then envelop your clothed mounds, squeezing through the soft fabric of your lingerie to knead and grope at you, and he swoons at how easily your body squishes, how soft and warm your tits feel in his hands. even through your bra, you could tell he was enjoying it. the ever-growing lump in his dark trousers was beginning to prod at your bare thigh. you wince; his treatment growing increasingly more rough. you knew it was wrong, so you grasp his wrists in an attempt to pry his hands from you. but, Gojo merely ignores the gesture, and your silent protest.

“These feel good. Your little bra can hardly keep them contained, huh?” he snickers playfully, rubbing them in circles to hear the sounds you make. “So fucking soft,” Gojo whispers, more to himself than to you, and squeezes again, harder this time. when your breath catches in your throat, you elicit a quiet and almost pitiful squeak, and he suppressed a low growl. “They’re sensitive too, huh? Does it feel good, baby? Having your big, soft titties groped by your teacher?”

“No.” you lie, sheepishly. it was embarrassing, to say the very least, but you didn’t want to admit that deep down it felt good. it was so wrong. “Please, stop…”. the strength in his hands, and the way he grabbed handfuls, then groaned when your flesh attempts to spill out of their cups at his rough treatment. you look away, trying to ignore the humiliation of hearing yourself make such whiny mewls, but Gojo wouldn’t allow that.

“Look up at me, pretty girl. You know what I really want to do to these big, warm tits?”

your eyes flit back up to his countenance in a second. even the black lenses of his shades couldn’t completely mask the celestial glow of his glacier’s gaze, that drew your stare in as easily as a siren might send sailors to their death. “W—what?”

it didn’t even sound like your voice; you were completely and utterly entranced by Satoru Gojo.

he liked it.

a lot.

with a soft chuckle, his tongue swipes along his lower lip, before his voice drops to a low, husky octave. “Wanna see my cock sliding between them. Think you can do that for me, baby?” he doesn’t wait for you to answer; he gives you a little pat on the head, before tilting his own. “On your knees for me.”

you were hesitant, swallowing hard around the nervous lump in your throat, but he didn’t mind forcing you. one hand grasping your hair roughly at the roots, he guides you down, further and further, until you have no choice but to go to your knees to avoid the sting of your hair being pulled. “There you go, down, down, down. Just like that.”

“Ow,” you whine, just under your breath, and look up at him once you’re planted, your uniform skirt fluttering around your thighs. “You’re hurting me, Gojo-sensei…”

Gojo’s grin hadn’t left his face, not even for a second, and he uses the grip on your hair to tilt your head back so he can study your countenance with a soft hum. “If you’re a good girl for me, I won’t have to hurt you.” the flippant tone of his voice forced a chill up your spine as he continues, “But if you fight me, I will take what I want from you. And it will hurt. Think about that, pretty girl, while I fuck your tits.”

for a moment, you’re stunned, but you watch him fish inside his pants and pull his cock out, wrapping a powerful fist around it and pumping it roughly a couple of times. you stared at it, allowing your eyeline to trace every girthy, veiny, strong inch of him and you couldn’t help the involuntary gulp that you took, swallowing hard around the lump in your throat. it was one of the biggest dicks you’d ever seen.

“Like the view?” Gojo teased, but he smirked as he grasped the base and held the twitching muscle still for you to admire some more. “You can admit it. Makes you wet, doesn’t it?” you shake your head in denial again, and this time, clench your thighs together as you feel the telltale damp patch growing against your panties. electricity buzzed through your veins, anxiety over being so close to your teacher’s cock driving you insane. “You’re a bad liar, baby. I’ll have to treat your little pussy the next time, let her feel me slide in slow and fill you up. But first…” as he speaks, Gojo’s voice takes a lazy, sexy dip, and he pulls you by the wiring in your bra again, tugging it just far enough away from your body to slip his cock underneath, nesting it into your cleavage with a happy sigh. “If I don’t fuck those tits, I’m going to lose my mind. So, do me a favor, pretty girl…” Gojo’s hips rock forward, worming his cock between your tits until the plump, pink tip pokes out, inches from your glossy lips. “Stick out your tongue, and drool like a sweet, little slut.”

“Y—you can’t do this—“ you whined, “you can’t m—make me do this…”

but his grip on your hair jerked your mouth closer to the twitching, thick tip. your eyes widened. your mouth was already watering, almost uncontrollably, now that you could smell his musk— the arousal that clung to his cock, so all you had to do was stick your tongue out as instructed, and saliva drip, drip, dripped down on to the head of his dick. your eyes closed, but only for a minute, because a cruel tug at your roots reminds you where you are.

“Open up those pretty eyes, slut.” he demands, though his voice still sounds chillingly lighthearted. “Don’t want you pretending this isn’t happening. That wouldn’t be any fun at all.”

his hips had began to buck wildly; he fell into a quick greedy rhythm and started to moan. he was still smiling. his head rolled on his shoulders, but he kept his eyes, concealed by his glasses, on you, too. watching how you were jerked around by his tempo like a rag doll, and listening to the whimpers and whines of protest, gazing at the way his cock had smeared your spit between your breasts, creating a slick canal that he could pound into, as fervently as he would treat your cunt one day. “Fuck,” he hissed, grinding his teeth, and spread his feet wider, to plant himself more firmly. “Fuck, that’s it…” while one hand held loosely on to the middle of your bra, pulling you into a bobbing motion that complimented his rough thrusting, the other started to push down on the top of your head, his voice raspy with need.

“Suck the tip, baby. Take me in that pretty pout of yours.” as soon as your lips parted, creating a cushion for his sensitive tip to lay on as the rubbed himself off with your chest, he groans and nods, “There you go, pretty girl. Been thinking about how good your mouth would feel. Give me all those sweet kisses.”

you have no choice but to comply as he shoves your head down on him, moaning and sighing, panting against the cock tip as it plugs your mouth, muffling your noises. your palms flee to press against his abdomen trying to push him away, but your strength was still no match for his.

your eyelids fluttered as the raw flavor of Gojo Satoru coated your tongue, overtaking your mouth and claiming it in his name. his taste was intoxicating, and you were fighting an addiction already.

you had to remind yourself that you didn’t want this. you didn’t want him. but it was becoming increasingly harder to resist.

it was as if Gojo could read your internal struggle scribbled on your features, and he liked the idea of you hating him violating you so much, but being unable to stop it from turning your brain to mush. “You’re so cute,” he grunted, pushing your head down further, his fingers combing through your roots as he does so, “saying I can’t make you do this, but the more cock I feed you, the more your eyes start to glaze over. Do you know that? You can’t even help yourself; you’re gonna get addicted to it. I like watching you break. Gonna make me cum so quick, I’m almost embarrassed.” he was smirking, his playful nature evident, but you weren’t laughing.

Gojo’s grip tightens, both on your bra and your hair, and he drags you back and forth so fast that you worry you’ll get whiplash, using you like a toy to get himself off of.

“Going to paint you so pretty, hell-“ he cums only moments later; his jest about not lasting quite so long seeming to be only half a joke, and his fingers grope your hair at the root, pulling your mouth off of him just in time to shoot white streamers of warm release over your cheeks and across your forehead. you gasp, utterly humiliated by the way his sticky cum clings to your hair and cheeks. “There ya go… good girl.” he croons, pulling you by the hair once again to smear your mouth against his cock. you purse your lips, and the spunk still dribbling down coats them.

“You’re an obstinate, little thing.” Gojo moans, but he’s grinning from ear to ear. “I fucking love it. Gonna have way too much fun breaking you down, turning you into my personal slut. Forcing you to like it the more cock I make you take.” he takes a deep breath, rubbing his throbbing tip over the shape of your lips, and you suppress a happy squeak as you finally taste him. “Do you like your grade?” he teases, and when you merely glare up at him, he uses his grip on your hair to pull your head back just a bit. you can feel his cum clinging to your cheeks, and excess rolling into your hairline and dripping down your chin. his glasses slid down and you were staring into those hypnotizing eyes again. tasting, smelling, feeling him all over. your core throbbed— desperate for his attention, and you hated him for it. “Say ‘thank you for treating me like a pretty, little cumrag, Gojo-sensei’. Say it, and I’ll mentor you.”

begrudgingly, with your eyes shooting daggers up at him, you part your lips to speak. you didn’t want to, but you also wanted to be taught by the best of the best, and as despicable as he was, he was also the best. “Th—thank you, Gojo-sensei…” you cringed with each syllable, knowing that you were essentially giving in. knowing that now, he would do whatever he wanted to you, and you couldn’t say no. “For treating me like a pretty, little cumrag…”

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 7 months

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Halloween prompts year 2 day 14

Tim was the best thing to ever happen to Danny.

He didn't mean that just because how much of a sappy romantic he was to Tim, but because he literally saved him from his own mind.

Danny was never going to leave Amity Park so long as the portal was open.

The portal would always remain open between his parents practically treating it like thier third child and thier ability to simply make another if anything would have happened to that one. Not to mention the super creep named Vlad.

So Danny would have stayed in Amity forever, cleaning up after his parents and being miserable.

Or ya know. Until they managed to kill him.

But then Tim came into his life and fixed everything. He befriended Danny over nightime rooftop rendezvous and groaning at his dumb (read awesome) puns.

As they got closer Sam and Tucker seemed to get both anxious and angry. Were they jealous? What right did they have after the Gregor incident?! Its true that they'd both been to busy to hand out with Danny for the past few weeks, leaving Danny with only Tim to turn to for company.

Tim pointed out that they may feel threatened knowing someone else knows his secret and Danny couldn't help but agree.

Tim pointed out that Danny was going to be stuck here cleaning up after his parent the rest of his life if he didn't find a way to stop the portal. Danny had nearly broke down at that and admitted he didn't know what else to do, so Tim devised a plan with that big beautiful brain of his.

They created a machine that ran on ectoplasm and magic that could wipe information from both technology and the human brain. They could remove all traces of ghosts ever existing in this town and erase 20 years of knowledge and research from Vlad and the Fentons minds, but it would come at a cost as magic usually does.

They would have to forget Danny existed as well. Tim offered that they could run away together.

Danny decided that was okay. The only person he had left in this town who had cared about him was Jazz and she was better off without him there to get her hurt.

Tim also had a plan to strip Vlad of his powers as well as his knowledge, and Danny was looking forward to not having to deal with him anymore

It was the day after everything went down, Tim was driving the GAV while Danny flew in the Ops Centers Jet form. They had made sure to swipe everything they could from the labs as well as everything the thought they needed to travel to Tims home dimension.

Danny had promised to help Tim uncover the secrets of his past and who he really was and to do that they essentially planned to travel around the Earth being wandering criminals.

Between Tims intellect and Dannys powers they were undefeated and unnoticed. They stole whatever they wanted and did whatever they pleased, making sure no one had to get hurt unless there was no other options.

Of course they stole cash from bank vaults as well as whatever else was in there. They couldn't stop Phantom from entering since anti-meta tech didn't affect him and couldnt track Phantom due to him being whatever he was plus the collar Tim had helped Danny design that covered up his ecto-signature.

They lived like this for over a year, breaking in to abandoned places, having waterfights in large city waterfountains (and running when they heard police sirens), tagging some of the places they'd hit when they wanted to leave a message, long romantic walks at night, lots of laughter, going on dates to restaurants (they never dine & dash. Some places make the wait staff pay which is bull and they might want to return to that establishment at some point), that one time they stole a $900 wedding cake from a homophobic bakery owner, lots of Fake out-Make outs to avoid getting sent to jail, ect.

They were having the time of thier lives up until they stopped in a little 24 hour diner in Bludhaven. They were doing what they usually do, flirting and laughing until the waiter takes thier order, when a guy approached thier table. Tim and Danny exchanged worried looks before the guy held up his hands in mock surrender, "I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise, I'm Dick Grayson." The man held out his hand to Tim, who hesitated before shaking it, "Tim," he answered honestly.

Danny nudged him with his foot under the table.

The man smiled wide, "Like Tim Drake?"

Tim and Danny looked confused, "Like who?" Danny asked and Dicks smile faltered

#halloween prompts #dpxdc #prompts #danny phantom #danny fenton #tim drake #clone tim drake #criminal tim drake #technically #criminal danny fenton #fanfiction prompts #batman #red robin #partners in crime #clone tim has no memories from before waking up in a vat or glowing green water and doesnt know hes a clone #clone tim was super angry when he saw how poorly danny was treated by the people he loved and vowed to free him #they ran away together #danny is mentally planning thier wedding #dock is trying to figure out the situation #the bats think either danny is some kind of demon manipulating clone tim or that clone tim is evil and manipulating danny for his powers #i was planning for the plan with vlad to go wrong and them having to kill vlad. they talk about it in a room the bats had bugged and they #fight about it cause they both want themselves to take the blame if anyone in this dimension finds out so the other can escape #the bats rethink the manipulation angle and consider that this might genuinely be two teenagers being runaways and just acting out #*tim* is supposed to be a clone in this but its also good if this is Tim drake who lost his memories and ended up in another dimension #just for his friends and families responce to him turning to crime

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opennwindows · 7 months

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If you can, could I request BEN Drowned fluff / smut headcanons like about himself, with his headcanon age, hobbies, facts, what he is into or would like & want in a relationship, and what he would be like with a gamer girlfriend/ s/o?

If ya taking requests rn still?✨😇😊💖

Ben Drowned general + NSFW hcs

A/N: yes!! absolutely. i love getting to talk about how the pastas do their pastaing in my mind. i have so many headcanons for everyone that im excited to share!! also sorry i forgot to include the gamer gf part but i don't think it would change a lot of what i wrote!!

btw sorry for fucking dying i have been busy 😭😭 but no one worry i will still continue to work on requests!! if anyone has any marble hornets stuff they wanna request i will zoom you to the front of the queue so fucking quick. anyways enough of me yapping.

cw: 18+ nsfw, toxic relationships, crying kink,

GENERAL

ben is mentally and physically 22, but he can be quite emotionally immature at times. when he died he never stopped growing and maturing, his soul was just stuck in limbo. think like the worst waiting room ever.

he's surprisingly tall, standing at about 5'9. he's lanky but not bone thin. could easily get pretty far in a fight without his ghost powers.

the link costume only appears when he’s in his ghost form. so for example, when he’s messing with someone on their computer he’ll appear as the canon BEN we’re most familiar with. when he’s just chilling in his physical body, he mostly wears beat up hoodies and sweatpants.

contrary to popular belief, ben's not the hardcore gamer everyone thinks he is. sure, he'll play some overwatch or whatever when he's bored but he honestly just prefers to watch tv and browse the internet. understandably REFUSES to play any zelda games. if you were trapped in a video game for decades would you ever wanna touch it again? exactly.

ben loves to draw little comics and troll (see: horrifically traumatize) people online. god forbid you get into twitter beef with this man because he will crawl through your monitor at 3am and leave you with a crippling fear of technology. dude thinks it's absolutely hilarious. a true knee slapper.

lowkey has a sugar addiction. will slam down 4 cans of pepsi in one sitting. he's very lucky that he's basically a ghost because the kidney stones would be plentiful.

ROMANTIC

you know that guy with the blown out speakers in his car, lives off of energy drinks and burnt blue razz ice elfbars, swears aphex twin is the modern mozart and works on the grill at your local wendy’s? yeah thats ben. or at least would be him if he was still human.

“why would you need a chair, my lap is literally right here babe.”

would absolutely wear your skin if given the opportunity. not in a weird way. he’s just EXTREMELY touchy.

he needs someone who is significantly more organized and motivated than him. he can go almost a week without showering and it should honestly be considered biological warfare when he tries to smother you with affection during these episodes.

after awhile of you guys dating he LOVES the idea of y’all showering together. he has a fear of water and while showers aren’t too much of a trigger, your presence helps ease his anxiety.

favorite pet names: bro, dude, dawg, babe, bitch (non derogatory)

not really a romantic but he tries his best. a perfect date for him is just getting some takeout, watching youtube, talking about stupid shit and play fighting. if you want something more traditional or extravagant then he’ll oblige to make you happy but those types of dates make him feel quite suffocated and nervous. try to save those for special occasions.

now let’s talk about his problems because just like the other creeps he is ANGSTY.

he’s probably the most emotionally stable and healthiest of the group but he definitely still has his toxic traits, after all this man is a ghost that mentally tortures and kills his victims through manipulation.

ben would never ever get physical with his partner no matter how enraged he is but he absolutely is the type to do some mental damage when he gets carried away. ben drowned? more like ben gaslighted.

the type to say some shit that would keep you up for years and then kiss you the next morning like the argument never happened. he finds it easier to ignore problems than to actively talk and fix them. you’re gonna have to teach him some important communication skills or else you’ll grow to resent him after all the bottled up rage.

a bit too brutally honest and blunt for his own good so if you have thin skin the relationship would fall apart pretty quickly. he wants someone who can drag him twice as hard as he dragged you. bonus points if your insults are consistently funny as hell.

please watch anime with him and discuss it. he would propose on the spot, especially if you play with his hair.

pro player tip: if you want him to clean his disgusting room, help him and make it fun! he just needs a little push and motivation at times. and being around you makes him want to get his shit together.

big fan of late night make-out sessions. i’m talking like 45 minutes straight of just slobbering on each other’s faces with tongues down throats. if you don’t want his hands running over every inch of your body then you’ll probably have to chain him to the wall.

NSFW

okay. so he’s a little inexperienced with his hands. he’s just a slow learner. be vocal with him about what you like!!

ben's about 7inches and slightly skinnier than average but he will have you seeing stars in record time. the dick game is no joke. he tends to go fast and deep most times.

i can see him being a switch in the idgaf-as-long-as-i’m-fucking way. dude will go with the flow and will try mostly anything.

definitely one of the least aggressive pastas during sex. he has sadistic tendencies but he’s more of a edge/overstimulate you until you cry versus a beat the shit out of you and rip hair out of your scalp type. he’s pretty vanilla given his occupation.

despite his love of roasting the fuck out of you on a daily basis, the only words that come out of this man’s mouth is heavenly praise. he looks at you like you’re the most gorgeous being on the planet and he’ll let you know it.

he loves to whisper praises into your ear while you ride him.

he's more of a receiver than a giver when it comes to oral. he'll absolutely spend hours between your legs if given the chance but nothing beats the sight of you on your knees and teary eyed with his length in your mouth.

he can be a bit of a head pusher but just let him face-fuck you every now and then, hearing his loud moans will be worth it.

did i mention how much of a crying kink this man has? you guys could be on round three and if he stares at your teary eyed fucked-out face for longer than 10 seconds he'll immediately get hard again. you'll have to beg him to give your poor body a break.

he's also into choking but only if he's the one doing it. if you try to restrict his breathing he'll panic and the mood would get ruined.

#creepypasta #creepypasta smut #celia reqs #creepypasta x reader #ben drowned #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned smut #ben drowned x y/n #ben drowned x you #ben drowned headcanons #ben drowned hcs #creepypasta headcanon

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moonbeamwritings · 1 year

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“Gojo.”

You peer at him out of the corner of your eye, watching the tip of his finger creep closer and closer to the plush apple of your cheek.

“Gojo.”

The lilt in his voice is childish, teasing; the smirk on his lips rising when he promises, “I’m not touching you!”

"Satoru, I can feel it.”

There’s a bite to the way you finally say his first name that drags the corner of his mouth further up. It stokes the fire burning between his ribs, the very flames that spur him to poke and prod and tease and annoy — all for the sake of your attention. All Gojo wants, all he’s ever wanted, is to have your eyes on him, to have your full, undivided attention; and with the way you huff, your arms crossing over your chest, he knows it’s well within his reach.

His head tilts to one side like a curious puppy, brows furrowing in feigned innocence. His finger doesn’t move. “Feel what?”

Infinity, you think bitterly. The weight of his power presses against your skin with the surging energy that two identical poles of a magnet have when they repel one another – doomed to never meet no matter how hard you push. And with the distance his finger stays from your face, Gojo’s Infinity almost tickles.

Gojo’s finger inches closer and the pulse of it, the sight of it in your periphery, has you seeing red. Your eyes shoot to meet his as you fully turn to face him, brows furrowed. Seething, you tell him, “You know what.”

There you are.

He knows, deep down, that it’s childish to go to such lengths for a glimpse at your eyes or the soft curves of your lips, but he can’t help it. Gojo’s at his weakest around you, after all. “I don’t think I do, angel.” He leans in, finger still hovering oh so close to your face. “Care to clue me in?”

Your eyes roll, but you make no move to look away. “You’re insufferable.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

You sigh, long and heavy, as you allow your eyes to slip closed, and Gojo can tell you’re trying not to pinch the bridge of your nose, a cute little habit you only seem to indulge in when he’s around. He smirks and tilts his head to peer at you over his sunglasses. The tone in his voice is goading. “Well, go on.”

“You- you-” You flounder, mind rendered a blank slate as frustration floods your senses. Air escapes your nose, an exhale laced with incredulity, as a smile crosses your lips in a blink before it’s gone. You hide your face behind a warm palm. “You-”

“Mhm.” Gojo leans closer, sunglasses sliding further down the bridge of his nose. He drinks you in, eyes shifting from your eyes to your lips and back again. “What? C’mon, cat got your tongue, angel?”

“Your Infinity, Gojo. I can feel it,” you tell him, the words finally ripped from your throat by the gentle, but teasing coo of his voice. “It tickles.”

“Aww, that’s what all this fuss was about? You should’ve just said so.”

And as if a switch has been flipped, Infinity is gone and suddenly Gojo’s finger is surging forward to tap the tip of your nose. It’s a brief flash, a tiny bump of skin against skin before his hand retreats again, returning to its place by the sorcerer’s side as if it had never moved at all. Gojo smiles at you then, all pearly whites and unrestrained pride. The cat that got the cream.

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed, ya know that?”

#this is dumb im sorry #special thanks to luna sunny and cozy for being my sounding board on this one #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo imagine #satoru gojo imagine #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #jjk fluff #gojo fluff

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drawnfamiliarfaces · 1 month

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So, Ive started a rewatch of 9gn, and I would like to ask your opinion on the doodle vision thing. Is it just Randy remembering the pages do you think? or is the nomicon giving him a sort of limited mental text through their connection? Like especially when it seems to point to specific objects or such?

Personally, I like to think it's a little bit of both!

In my head, the first time Randy put on the mask, a surface level connection has been made between him - mask - Ninjanomicon. That's what allows the Ninjanomicon be aware of what is going on in Randy's life (how it reacts to his actions and decisions, and what prompts it to warn him/give him a lesson) despite it being, ya know a book without eyes and ears.

(on extra side note/headcanon, but I believe this is also the reason why Ninjanomicon needs the Messenger/Creep to scope out potential future ninjas - Messenger observes and evaluates and chooses, because Ninjanomicon cannot evaluate until after the candidate put the mask on and/or opened the book to establish that first surface connection.)

So, after Ninjanomicon gives a lesson, it continues to observe, and when we see doodles its because Randy is remembering AND Ninjanomicon is sort of nudging him with some of those visuals. Cause, like, more often than not the doodles appear just before/during a revelation Randy is having, but there are also sometimes extra doodle words like 'duh' or 'now this is a weapon' which feels a lot like commentary from someone else than Randy. There is some form of synchronicity - a mind drift, if you want, going on betwen them imho.

I like to think that the longer a Ninja is connected to the Nomicon, the stronger that connection gets, so at some point in the future Ninjanomicon can actually properly talk through doodles not only inside it and through memory, but also out in real life.

But since having such a strong connection is detrimental to a Ninja (aka, too much knowledge from Nomicon connection can lead to faster corruption by power) and Ninja's duty lasts only roughly 4 years, its very rare that the connection between the two gets so strong that Ninjanomicon can actually 'talk' rather than just recall memory of an already given lesson.

Also can you imagine a Ninja actually interacting with doodle talk out in real life as Nomicon talks to them? Ninja will seem like a crazy person! xD

#que?#rc9gn #ninjanomicon #randy cunningham #i mean one can argue that doodles vision is a totally unique way of Randy processing the world around him #(i keep thinking about shoob vision ep xD) but it might also be interpreted as Nomicon's doodle power warping due to Randy's insecurities #Last bit gives me ideas about some previous ninjas actually reaching #that level of close connection and going crazy when that connection is lost...

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nikosama13 · 2 months

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"Mind, heart, and body." (Law x Reader!)

Description: It was a rough and stormy night on the Polar Tang. You were a new recruit on the Heart Pirates. Law let you join the crew because he knew the amount of power you held and.. well.. beauty too. Eventually one of the thunder strikes woke you up. Making you head over sleepily to Law’s room, falling asleep on his bed. Then what happened? That’s just for Law and you to know..

Side Notes: Hello my wonderful loves!! Please enjoy this fic, I spent most of my day fixing this up for you all. <3 (Probably spelling mistakes + My requests should be open!)

Consider following..?

(づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

~~~

It was another rough night on the Polar Tang, waves crashed against the ship which indicated a thunderstorm. You had just recently joined the Heart Pirates and Law had chosen you because of your amazing fighting skills and maybe your looks too..

The thunder and lighting grew louder and stronger, half asleep you wondered if the ship was really going to be okay with this many waves and chaos.

You could hear the screams and yells of the harsh ocean wind against the small, glass window over your bed. Another ‘bang’ sound came from the outside thunder, this made your eyes snap open.

You wanted to hold something. You were actually feeling scared over something so simple.

Then you noticed a small light seeping from under your door, the same light you saw before you slept.

Law’s room.

You assumed that Law being Law.. was still awake, and that he was working on whatever Law works on at this time of night. Probably studying some medical books or what not.

So, you decided to sit up on your bed and walk over to this room. You weren’t really thinking straight because of your sudden awakening from the thunder.

You knocked on his door and didn’t hear anything.

So you just decided to barge in.

“L-law.. you in here..?” you said scratching your eyes slightly, standing in his doorway, scanning the room.

You saw Law on this chair, head deep into his work.

Law turned around on his chair and stared at you in shock.

“E-eh y/n-ya..? What are you doing this late in here..?” Then it hit him like a pile of bricks, you were in his room, at this time of night, alone.

He felt a small burning sensation creep up on him. He was blushing.

“I dunno.. I was sleeping and then the thunder woke me up..” you stared at him innocently.

You began walking towards his bed and plopped on it, still dizzy from waking up and walking abruptly to his room.

“Y/n.. y-you shouldn’t be in here..” he looked down on you, wide eyed.

“I know but.. It’s scary..” you mumbled and began getting comfortable in his bed.

Law shut his medical book, pushed his chair in place and walked closer to you.

“I’m taking you back.” he said firmly.

He didn't want you to get him wrong.. He’d love to sleep with you in his bed but.. There was something about it.. He couldn’t commit to it.

Then he placed his hands under you and lifted you up from his bed, your feet dangling in the air and your head in his chest.

As he walked to your room, he opened the door and placed you gently on your bed and shut the blinds of the small window, his body hanging over you.

Then you, in your sleep, grabbed his clothing. This pulling movement from you made him stumble and fall on you. Not hard enough to wake you up though.

At this point he was completely bright red and hopeful you didn't wake up to see him in this state. He slowly got up from his position, careful to not wake you up.

“Law…” you said his name in a quiet and adorable voice.

His attention snapped to you.

“I want my good night kiss..” you smiled with your eyes still shut.

Law was speechless.

He was stuck in between following your request or completely ignoring you and walking out. However, at that moment he knew that if he didn’t follow up on what you asked so kindly for, he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about you.

So, he slowly leaned in.. he was still contemplating what to do. But this mind, heart, and body were all fighting and racing a million miles an hour.

But then..

He kissed you.

Your tender lips collided with his, it was a solid second but for Law it felt like forever. Then he pulled back, seeing your face smiling unconsciously in delight.

He decided to see himself out before this escalated.. meaning that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back from continuing if he looked at you longer.

He slowly walked out of the room and shut the door. He was smiling, this mouth going from ear-to-ear and blushing like a mad man.

He’d never really got to experience this feeling.

Then Law entered this room and also shut the door, he laid on his bed and was happy, proud, relieved, and worried.

Now why worried you ask?

Well, let’s just say he’d have lots of explaining to do the next morning..

~~~

The End~

(Comment below if you’d be up for a part 2)

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Thank you so, so much for reading my fic and have a wonderful day! <3

Edit: \-> Part two here /

#one piece #straw hat pirates #one piece strawhats #strawhats #cute #short story #fluff?#anime #law x reader #trafalgar law #part 2?#polar tang #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar op #law x you #law x y/n

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fushipurro · 2 months

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Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Chapter 2 - Synched Spirits

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☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, cowboy!au, fluff smut & a bit of angst in between, guns, mentions of blood, pet names, creampie, anal, threesome (f/m/m), gangs

☆ Word Count: 5.4k

“So, you must be Clementine then, huh?”

The palomino huffs back, examining you with big brown eyes. Her ears flicker with interest, no doubt curious to the strange new human holding taking her by the lead to the other end of town. You can’t blame her for being wary, you’d feel the same if your beloved companion left you for another so you can only imagine how she and your Valentine are feeling right now.

She’s not the only one cautious of you. It’s hard not to miss the many townsfolk eyeing you down, what with how last night went. Between the robbery and your duel, everyone’s on high alert for the foreseeable future.

One would like to believe they’d be more grateful you didn’t outright kill the guy. Maybe they wouldn’t care so much if you were a man instead of a natural born, gunslingin’ woman, but sucks to suck. That drunken fool is lucky you decided to be nice and let him off with just a mangled hand. Had it happened after Valentine was stolen, the results would have been much different.

You hitch Clementine up outside the gun store, pushing past the door and greeting the shopkeeper. They’re about the only person so far today not afraid of you, but in all fairness, he’s the one with a dozen guns an arm’s length away.

“Lookin’ for anything in particular, Ma’am?”

You hum in response, scanning the available goods displayed out across the various shelves. There’s plenty of ammunition for a good price; wouldn’t hurt to replenish your pistol stocks after that duel. You decide on a few, bringing them over to the checkout counter.

“I’ll take these and…” Glancing up behind the clerk, there’s several cabinets containing an assortment of larger weaponry. A little voice creeps up from the back of your head offering a wonderful idea. “…maybe a rifle, depending on what ya have.”

He turns his back to you, unlocking one of the many units. Across the empty counter in front of you, he places down a few options, naming them as he goes, “Rolling Block, Varmint, Springfield, Bolt Action…take your pick.”

You’re instantly drawn to the Rolling Block, a girthy beauty that screams power and fine craftsmanship. “How’s the firepower on this one?” you ask, lifting the weapon up to better examine.

“You won’t find much competition with that one,” he tells you, and that’s exactly what you like to hear.

If someone dares to so much as think they can get away with stealing your horse, then you’re sure as hell going to track them down and put a gaping hole right where their heart should be. That black-haired outlaw better watch his back if he knows what’s coming. Once all is said and done with, Calamity Jane will be needing a new nickname after you usurp that throne.

“How much?”

“$187 even, Ma’am.”

Tch, that’s steep. And more than you have on hand thanks to the rest being buried in Valentine’s satchel.

You sigh, begrudgingly looking over the rest of the artillery. “How about the rest?”

“The Varmint here is our cheapest at $72 if you’re goal is hunting rabbits and other small game; otherwise the Springfield is our next cheapest at $120.”

You replace the Rolling Block in your hands with the Springfield Rifle, trying it out just like you did with the former. It’s lighter in weight with less range on the scope, but the clerk assures you that with some express or high velocity bullets, distance won’t be an issue.

“I’ll take this then.” You pass a billfold to the clerk, seething once again over why you’re doing this to begin with. Money’s hard to come by in this day and age, as far as legal opportunities go for someone like you. So help that bastard if he finds the rest of your stash and decides to take that for himself.

Leaving the store with your new weapon in hand, you’re quick to notice a gathering of lawmen outside the Sheriff’s office just across the street. A dozen uniforms with an equal number of horses all geared and ready to go.

“Who’s the Sheriff around here?” you call out, approaching the group.

“That would be me, Miss.” The crowd parts, making room for a young, white-haired man. “Sheriff Satoru Gojo. How may I be of service to you on this lovely day?”

You scoff, This guy? He’s clean as a whistle. Even the star on his chest could be mistaken for a mirror with how much he’s shined it.

Any other time and his equally bright smile might feel akin to fresh rain in the New Austin desert, but currently, it’s more like greeting the sun after a wicked night in the saloon.

“I’d like to know what’s being done about those thieves from last night.”

His blue eyes wander your figure up and down. Curious, but invasive. “You’re not with the bank, are you?”

Does it look like I’m wearing a suit or a fancy dress?

“My horse was stolen by one of those bastards and I intend on getting her back. Today,” you hiss impatiently.

Giving attitude to a man of the law may not be the smartest decision lest you desire a night behind bars, but to be fair, you have every right to be pissed given the circumstances. Had they have been competent in their line of work, then the criminals wouldn’t have gotten as far as they had or even been able to leave town in the first place.

It’s infuriating.

And the nonchalant nature of this man only pisses you off further.

“You’re in luck then, Miss…?”

You reply to the man with your name, sternness evident in your tone.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he remarks, earning a glare of disapproval from you that he shrugs off with a laugh. “My deputies and I are heading out on a lead if you want to sit tight inside.”

You place a hand over your hip, all nice and sassy with your face anything but. “I’d rather come with y’all than sit on my ass.”

Satoru takes the lead of a pristinely clean cremello stallion, its fur almost as perfectly white as the hair on its rider’s head. “I won’t stop you, but…” He pauses, hoisting himself up and over the saddle effortlessly, showing off those long legs of his. “…it could be dangerous.”

You pat the gun holster attached to your hip, just another way of showing that you’re anything but the normalcy ‘round here. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

The rim of his darkly colored cattleman hat dims his facial expression as he hunches down over the horn of the saddle, but not the light coming from that toothy grin stretching ear to ear.

“I don’t doubt that for a second, I’m aware of the duel that occurred last night.”

“Good, so then you know I mean business,” you warn, not once wavering from the eye contact with Satoru.

He outstretches his hand, beckoning for you to accept. “Of course. You want to ride up here with me then so we can get going?”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you respond, pointing your thumb behind you at Clementine. “This girl will do just fine.”

“Didn’t steal her, I hope?” he teases in an effort to lighten the situation. It doesn’t necessarily work as you roll your eyes the moment your back turns on him. From there, you and the rest of the deputies mount up to leave town, destination unknown.

You hunker back from the rest of the posse, allowing the mare to instinctively follow while you take in the surrounding sights. You had come to this town from a different path than the one you’re marching on now, but given the view, you’ll for sure find yourself adventuring out here again in the future. The settlers here picked a beautiful spot to build the city of Valentine on. In the distance lie snow-kissed peaks and plateaus in nearly every direction, a wide-open prairie, and now the freshwater stream trailing at your side.

The stream runs clear as crystal, giving you an easy view of all the trout and pike that call it home. Measly shadows darting around in search of food and the ducks swimming along the surface. Sunlight catches on all the ripples, reflecting a dazzling lightshow of effects.

“So… what brings you to our fair city?”

You turn to your opposite side where Satoru and his majestic stallion ─ Mugen as you’ve come to discover its name to be ─ are nestled up at your side, stirrups annoyingly clashing with utter disregard for personal space.

“Do I need a reason or permission to come?”

“Well, no,” he pouts, “but as Sheriff I like to know who all is coming and going.” He further invades your bubble by leaning over in front of your line of sight, leather scrunching with every motion. “Besides, you’re an interesting change to the usual visitors. How could I not be curious?” he adds pointedly.

You sigh, giving in to his questioning. He doesn’t seem like a bad guy after all, compared to the horse thief you’re eagerly waiting to meet later. Satoru’s merely caught you on a bad day is all.

“I’m just a traveler like any other,” you drawl, a seldom undertone in your voice. “I used to call Tall Trees home, but that’s long in my past.”

“Bear country, huh?” He whistles out of surprise. “No wonder you’ve got the balls of one.”

“You could say that.” An amused huff leaves you. “Hunting bears is what ensured our survival up around Aurora Basin,” you explain, looking off in the direction of the mountains you at one point called home. “Had to watch our asses at all times to avoid Brumas or Lobo’s pack always hanging around our house.”

“Brumas?”

“Yeah, she’s a local legend in those parts. ‘A giant clad in golden fur.’” You exaggerate with your hands the sheer size of the bear. “Many doubt her existence, but my dad and I saw her firsthand one winter while hunting elk. Barely made it out intact but we made sure to leave her with a memorable scar on her face.” The memory of that day pulls the edges of your lips upwards.

“It's kill or be killed,” the words of your father sound in your head. “Either you stand your ground and fight back, or you won’t survive in this world.”

As they say, there’s always a method to the madness. Grizzly hunting as a kid is what geared you up to take no shit from others today. Especially for a lone woman carving her way through the frontier, you need to have the balls of a bear as the man next to you so sweetly described.

“Yikes,” Satoru grimaces at the fierce display of your nature stretching across your face. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Help me get my horse back today in one piece and you won’t have to worry.” You wink.

“By my honor as Sheriff of Valentine, I will get your steed back.” He pulls a semi-auto pistol from his belt, twirling it around his finger like you’d find in those animated photographs big cities always show off. The cocky cowboy, slick as could be with the metallic extension of themselves. “I’m the strongest, after all.” He winks back.

You have to hand it to him; he knows how to make an insufferable day a little less so; like a chaser you’d have following some throat-burning liquor. All it took was just some conversation and fond thoughts to get you back in the right mindset.

A pungent smell wafts your way sooner down the path, the luscious greens of the shrubbery abruptly turn to charred remains covering the expanse of land before you. A thin boundary of life and death.

“Forest fire?” you question rhetorically at first, but Satoru offers an answer.

“Kinda, we’re approaching what used to be a town by the name of Limpany.” He pauses, exhaling a discontent sigh. “Burned to the ground last year along with the rest of what you see.”

Kinda?

“Do you know how it started?”

There’s another brief pause, enough to shift the atmosphere in an awkward direction. You aim your head at Satoru, finding his downcast expression and a bittersweet smile. He brushes his fingers through Mugen’s mane, finding comfort with his trusted familiar.

“Since you told me your story, I’ll tell you some of mine,” he begins, taking in a focused breath. “My best friend and I were once deputies together, our sights set on becoming the sheriffs of a town no one would dare mess with thanks to our presence.” A flicker of remorse passes through the depths of his blue orbs. “We had a job that went sideways, and it wasn’t the same for us after.”

“How so?”

“I went on to become sheriff like we originally planned, but Suguru started to pull back and decided on going home to Limpany for a while.”

A pit in your stomach forms, giving you a sinking suspicion as to where this story could go. Considering his mood, the destination ahead, and the reveal of someone important to his life, there appears to be more to this as a whole than just a bank robbery. Nevertheless, you allow him to speak freely.

“Suguru discovered some serious corruption going on in the town by its people. In response, he ended up decimating nearly the entire town in one night, sparing no one. From that day forward, he became a wanted criminal in the eyes of the law.”

You wonder what could have been so severe to require that much lethal force, but at the same time if you were in his shoes, you might make the same choices. It wouldn’t be that far off on things you’d do considering how you decided to get back at the men who stole the lives of your parents.

Now here you are sympathizing with the man you’re hunting for your own personal vendetta. Oh how the tables have turned once you see the other side.

“I take it this Suguru is your gold thief?”

He sighs, “Unfortunately, that looks to be the case.” As you already expected to hear.

The town comes into sight, and with that, an end to your conversation. You’re surprised to see that despite the raging inferno that had occurred, buildings remain standing all along the settlement. Crumbling and disregarded, but still feasibly sturdy.

Smoke still hovers in the air as nature has yet to blossom and overtake the land once more. Maybe once spring has truly set in, new life will occur in its wake. So far, It’s quiet, but that may not necessarily be a good sign. Satoru orders his men to disperse throughout the town, going door to door in search of any signs of the gang.

The two of you hitch your horses out front of what used to be the Limpany Sheriff’s Department. The lettering on the building has long since faded from the flames but remains legible to a degree. Next door however is a jailhouse that stands without issue, and scarce of any blemishes. While Satoru is occupied with the main building, you decide to check out what lies beyond the iron door. There’s a click as you pull the safety of the gun, cautiously opening the door and ready for whatever lies inside.

Come to find out, it’s empty. The eeriness of the room sets off a trail of goosebumps down your spine. There’s smoke damage on the walls inside, but elsewhere nothing is damaged as far as you can tell. One of the locked cells houses two adult skeletons shackled to the wall. The bones of their wrists still nestled between the cuffs. The cell across somehow felt more ominous. The door is opened, leading to an empty room which in itself isn’t a cause for concern, but the scattered loot tells a different story. You bend down to pick up once such piece.

Is this… a child’s shoe?

Your eyes widen.

No doubt that one, but multiple children were being held in this very cell for reasons unknown. Is this what Suguru had come home to find…?

“Surprised? I know I was when I first saw this.”

His voice startles you, causing your sudden turn to meet him. “Satoru, what is this?”

“Corruption,” he answers bluntly.

What a cruel world this can be to live in. And with that thought, you can’t blame Suguru for crossing that threshold of sin.

A commotion sparks up outside, drawing both of you to the door. “Sheriff, come quick!” One of the deputies calls out. You get up to follow Satoru out as the two of you are led to another section of town where lawmen have quickly begun to circle. “It looks like they camped here and left this morning! There’s fresh hoofprints everywhere too.”

“Mount up!” Satoru shouts confidently, “They couldn’t have gotten far, let’s not waste any more daylight here!”

You’re about to whistle for your horse off muscle memory when you immediately have to remind yourself that she wouldn’t be able to hear your call.

They don’t prepare you for these things.

Valentine is all you have left right now. Losing her is like losing family. As much as you find yourself resonating with Suguru, the fact remains that you’re heartbroken without her. Hopefully she’s safe and the two of you will be reunited again soon. You brush the thoughts, running off with Satoru before galloping off with the rest of the posse.

The roads outside Limpany aren’t the most well-travelled, so for any decent enough tracker, the thousand-pound impressions in the dirt are easy enough to spot. There’s evidence a wagon or two may have joined the group, all leading down the Dakota river towards the Upper Montana. Trees quickly become scarcer as you enter this new area thanks to logging companies, making it easier to see everything in front of you but at the same time, everyone can see you as well.

The group stops short of a tree line near the river to use as cover. Up ahead lies a small home and barn to match looking all too lively and full for its size. A fatal flaw in their attempt at laying low, but one you’re thankful for. Pulling out a pair of binoculars from your satchel, you investigate the scene. There’s a long, gray-haired man and another shorter bald guy walking around, weaponry in hand, and several more interesting characters around. Among the dozen horses grazing from their posts, none are Valentine.

“Are those the men we’re looking for?”

“Looks like it,” the white-haired man sighs, tightening the grip on his own pair of binoculars. “I see some other wanted faces the Outlaw Killer was looking into.”

“The Outlaw Killer?” you scoff, quirking a brow. Interesting title that speaks for itself.

“Yeah,” he snickers. “He’s a crazy bounty hunter. You’d know him if you saw him, I’m sure. Grouchy asshole that only ever wears black ─ hell, I think all his guns and even his lasso are the same color.” He rolls his eyes and an image of the blacked-out stallion and its flirt of an owner came to mind from the night before. So much for a bad temperament.

“Good to know,” you hum, raising your new rifle from its holster, taking aim at the gray-haired man first on instinct.

“Woah woah woah, what are you doing?” Satoru’s urgent voice fills your ear.

“What’s it look like?” you calmly reply, “I’m gonna pick them off one by one.” The safety clicks just as the man reaches out with a hand on the barrel to low the gun.

“I’m itching to get this done with as much as you are, but I’d like to arrest them, not kill.”

You click your tongue out of annoyance, “What’s your plan then, Sheriff?”

“Let’s just get a little closer and see what more we can learn first. It won’t do us any good if they’ve stashed the gold, and I doubt they’ll tell us anyways.”

He has a point, sadly. For now, you’ll just have to go along with it. You lean on the reins with a tap of your heel to guide Clementine. “Have it your way, but just remember that I’m not the one wearing a silver star.”

“Hey if this goes well, I’m more than happy to give you one.” He smiles, following your lead with the rest of his men. Once again, he’s got Mugen right up at your side, hunched over the saddle to see your face. “You’re just the kind of attitude we could use; that and I’m enjoying your company.” You roll your eyes but the faint smile tugging at your lips gives you away all too easily.

Being a deputy isn’t something you’ve had in mind before given your sense of exploration and all, but another way one could view it is imagining it as a means of settling down somewhere. An ever-growing supply of work paired with using your favorite set of skills to earn money; all and all giving you stability and a place to call home if you ever decide that’s what you want in life.

It's worth thinking about if he’s serious. A second option to consider on top of Kento’s.

To avoid spooking the gang, you and the rest of the posse tie the reins of your mounts to some trees a few yards back from the tree line closer to the homestead. From there, it’s all about maintaining a stealthy approach. Plenty of shrubbery dots the property, so even with the lack of tall standing trees, you’re able to keep as low a profile as you can without inciting a shootout. The rest of the men can have their fun with their hunt for gold or apprehending dangerous individuals. Your first and foremost objective is securing Valentine.

Since she’s not outside, one can only assume she’s in the barn out of sight. It’s a good size, but in desperate need of some TLC as you learn the moment some rotted wood snaps cleanly off with a simple tug. You crawl through from the back, entering the structure into a bed of hay. Looking up from the ground, you quickly find that it’s not just you stuck in a 12x12 box.

A familiar tobiano paint stands proudly, turning his head in your direction. Beautiful black and white markings cover the gelding with a splash of white on one side of its face revealing a sole blue eye. The other eye is a rich shade of brown, surrounded by black fur.

“Good boy,” you whisper to the horse, hoping to not frighten him or anyone else that may be inside to your presence. He eyes you back with a huff and some widened eyes, but thankfully their ears move in attentive patterns rather than that of aggression.

You measle around to the front of the stall, managing to swoon him with your pets between soft whispering coos. “I should steal you and show him how it feels. You want that, big guy?”

A high-pitched whinny pierces the air, drawing your eyes to your long-lost Valentine one stall over. She stomps her foot aggressively, but her warning comes all too slow before the stall door flings open. Before you can reprimand yourself for being snuck up on, let alone draw your gun, the opposing force already has their own aimed nearly point blank.

“My, I didn’t expect anyone to check here first, let alone wish to steal Uzumaki from me?”

You turn slowly towards the man you’ve been wanting to see all night and day. The same silky-haired bastard that made off with your mare. He stares you down the iron sight of a Cattleman’s revolver, holding a salacious grin as he takes amusement in this whole ordeal.

“I think it’s only fair, seeing as you stole my own horse after your little escapade in town last night.” Unlike his suave tones, your voice is laced with the venom of a diamondback rattlesnake. Just because he has you cornered, doesn’t mean you’re any less dangerous than a pit viper itching to strike.

The sound of gunfire alerts you both to the events unfolding outside the shabby walls of the stable, all with the shouting of a dozen men. The sliding door to the entrance of the barn opens with a bang, and the outlaw is quick to draw up a second revolver at the new arrival.

“Suguru, put your guns down.” Satoru says, trying to mask the hints of pain and grief beneath a stoic demeanor.

On the other end, Suguru is cheerful and keeps his sight set on the other with a cheshire smile. “Satoru~ long time no see.”

You clear your throat, reminding the two of your third wheeling presence. “Nice reunion and all, but you’re outnumbered here.”

“That may be.” he pauses, rolling his head in your direction once more. “But I’m holding the guns here so it’s up to you both to decide how you want to walk out of here.”

Funny how things ended up working out after that.

Between some more bickering, monologues, thundering hooves, and dwindling gunfire, who knew a simple suggestion to “kiss and make up” would lead to you being sandwiched between them in one of the empty available stalls occupying square bales of hay to use as surfacing.

Straw digs into your back annoyingly, but the pleasure of two cocks in either end transition you to a state of euphoria. Muffled whimpers fail to escape, instead warping around Satoru buried deep in your throat. It’s long, veiny, and curves in all the right directions. His hands find comfort over the mound of your breasts, kneading into the flesh with each thrust.

You can’t see it, but those breathtaking blue eyes look in awe of your figure adorned with a sheen of sweat and the sight of Suguru’s cock disappearing into your perfect little pussy. “So pretty,” he purrs, noting how you’re glowing brighter than any star could hope to achieve, silver or not.

Suguru’s hands brand the dipping of your hips with a bruising grip, rutting into you with his especially girthy extension. Each jerk of his body hits right into a sweet spot bringing you ever closer to undoing the knot at the base of your core.

They both momentarily pause as you begin to unravel, choking out cries that leave Satoru reeling with pleasure from the tightness of your throat. Suguru feels it too. Your gummy walls encasing around him in erratic motions. The two of them aren’t far away from their own release.

The sounds each make only serve to keep the wings of your pussy fluttering for more. Irresistibly charming, and all the more passionate given the shared history they share, and you now caught in the middle.

Suguru leans forward over you, cupping Satoru’s cheek to draw him closer, crashing their lips together in a messy embrace. That one action forces each to come undone, painting both ends of you so perfectly white. They pull out, savoring the whining noise you release from the loss. The black-haired man takes a moment to admire how you clench around nothing and the cum gushing out like a waterfall of love.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Suguru asks, and both Satoru and you simultaneously answer positively making him chuckle all low and honey-like.

“You’re doing so well, but we’re not done just yet…” Both men exchange a look, as if reading one another’s mind. Soulmatism at its finest. “Well, Satoru?”

“It’s been too long, Suguru,” he responds gleefully. Satoru then proceeds to lift your tiring body up and onto his lap, making you straddle him as the other comes around into your view. “Ready for more, princess?”

“Less talk, more stuffing,” you scoff, taking it upon yourself to line his tip with your eager cunt, graciously accepting him into the depths beyond what Suguru could reach.

“You heard the pretty lady, Satoru,” the other whispers into his ear, nibbling the lobe as he slowly thrusts up into the man. The slick coating his shaft that you provided just moments ago make for a smooth entry, earning a deep fulfilling rumble from Satoru.

His fingers slid up your thighs and over the curves of your body, pressing into the plush to bounce you on him. You saw plenty before of the cobweb of veins that marble his cock, but feeling the ridges trailing along your insides leaves you breathing out such sinful sounds. He works it like the most formal of fountain pens, writing poetry on velvet walls that could put even Shakespeare to shame.

“Fuuh-uck,” you murmur, burying your face in the crook of Satoru’s neck, shamelessly letting him contort your body however he desires. Your arms wrap tightly around his neck and hair, locking him in against your bare chest.

“Now now, don’t go hiding yourself,” Suguru says between disheveled breaths, trying not to let his pace falter as he urges your face up. He overtakes your lips, mixing sloppy kisses with nips across your bottom lip.

Satoru uses this chance to pepper your open neck with marks fashioned all in his name, biting down with more force each time his lover hits that sweet spot inside. He can feel not only his own chest tighten, but his balls as well.

Suguru breaks the kiss, but only to push the two in front of him down. The weight of Satoru comes down over you, taking your mouth against his and soaking up the taste of all the combined flavors. Suguru unleashes powerful thrusts into Satoru that force him in and out of your own body as he chases his high.

“You missed me this much, Suguru?” He gazes over his shoulder, smiling as he tries to form cock-drunk words. “S-so much more aggressive than usual, f-feels good.”

“Not a day goes by where I don’t see a reminder of you.” You can just barely make out the seldom, yet saccharine face Suguru makes, your own vision clouded with a hazy white. “It’s just like the old days with o-our new friend here.”

“Our princess here is taking us so well, isn’t she?”

“She is,” he says, and you feel feather-light touches come over your thighs that attempt to coil around Satoru for closeness. “You’re such a good girl, I bet you want to cum, don’t you?” You feverishly nod, unsure how much longer you can hold out.

“Come on, baby.” A finger moves over your clit drawing star-shaped patterns until that’s all you’re able to see. “T-that’s it,” he drawls, following soon after.

Hot ropes of cum spill out inside you once more, making a beautiful cocktail of three. Suguru mercilessly ruts into Satoru until he himself finishes, savoring the feeling he’s long since missed and relishing in the new ones you’ve brought him.

Satoru’s body relaxes leaving you trapped underneath. You take the time to brush your fingers through his hair as you come down off your high, feeling yourself ground to the Earth in the process.

Suguru pulls out, leaving a chaste kiss to you both. His delicate fingers push the hair of your face, admiring the beauty of your afterglow. You close your eyes, soaking up the feeling of one another, completely oblivious to anything else.

Well, almost oblivious.

“It’s been fun seeing you again and meeting such a lovely new woman,” Suguru starts. You open your eyes and Satoru as well to see Suguru dressed and mounted atop the tobiano. “I’ve got to get home before my daughters begin to worry. See you around sometime.” He winks, galloping out of the stable before either of you can say another word.

Satoru stands up, exhaling a defeated sigh. The plan to arrest Suguru ended up with the two of you being detained by love. Both his gang and the gold are long gone to wherever his hideout lies.

Satoru helps you up, cleaning you off as best he can before readying the horses, and yes, that means yours too.

Valentine is home, back with her family.

You.

As you sit atop her on route back to the city of Valentine, you feel a discomfort in your clothes and the crunching of parchment to follow. The source of which is a pamphlet courtesy of Suguru, detailing drawings and hints on how if you’re interested, you can use these clues to find him and his camp of outlaws.

And so, a third opportunity for your future presents itself, but that’s for the future. For now, the only thing on your mind is a steak dinner. Here’s hoping the Butcher has finished his job.

☆ Notes: KFC breakup – saloon edition

Fr this chapter was hard for me to write. I love satosugu but I’m not confident in writing them just yet :( I cursed myself so many times and had to close to document. march weather also has got me not feeling too well so that sucks.

I was kinda stumped how to transition from gunpoint to dickpoint in a way that wasn’t so dubious or noncon so I hope you don’t mind me just skipping straight to the action :3 threesome smut is hard to write for me

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #cowboy!au #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto x you #geto suguru x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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corazondebeskar-reads · 7 months

Text

you know you never stood a chance - chapter one

you know you never stood a chance series

one: you know you never stood a chance

series masterlist | next chapter

qz!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2k

Summary: When QZ!Joel finds out you're planning to take up prostitution to earn enough rations for your sick sister, he makes sure he's the first one to pay you a visit.

Warnings: Prostitution, dub-con due to power imbalance, Joel Miller is bad at feelings, kind of mean!Joel, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), inexperienced reader, mention of cordyceps, brothel

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 9: Cumshot/Prostitution from this list by @absurdthirst

also on aO3

“Come in,” you called through the door, trying for your best laid-back, confident voice.

It wasn’t very successful. Joel rolled his eyes and opened the door. You were knelt on the bed, looking soft and demure—except for the way you were wringing your hands.

And the way the sweet look fell off your face when you saw him.

“What are you doing here?” You snatched up a pillow, hugging it over your torso like he hadn’t already got a good look at you through the sheer fabric.

“Gardening. What do you think I’m doin’ here?”

“This isn’t funny, Miller. Get out.” You grabbed another pillow and threw it at him.

He deflected it away from his face. “Jesus, woman.”

“You’ve had your laugh; you can go now.” You stared at the dingy Berber carpet of the shitty old motel room. It had probably been shitty before the whole world fell to pieces. The peeling wallpaper had sickly yellow stains to match the cigarette burns that pockmarked the single tufted armchair in the corner.

“Didn’t laugh,” Joel said gruffly, tossing something at you.

You had to drop the pillow to catch the bottle of water, nearly fumbling it, and looked up at him. “What’s this for?” you asked warily.

“It’s for drinkin’.”

“Ha ha. Look, can you not—don’t fuck with me right now. Why’re you here?”

It’s then, as you took a careful sip from the bottle, that Joel got a good look at your outfit.

Periwinkle tulle had been sewn roughly into an approximation of a dress, like something out of a Victoria’s Secret magazine had been poorly described to a seamstress who had never heard of lingerie. Actually, now that he thought about it, there was a good chance that was exactly what happened.

It had crooked, lacey ruffles on the top and bottom and did not suit you in the slightest. “What the hell are you wearin’? You raid a JoAnn’s?”

“Hey, I tried my best,” you said, bottom lip quivering.

“Ah shit, sweetheart, I didn’t—”

But you smirked. “Wow, you were really about to apologize, weren’t you? I shouldn’t have cut you off; go on, I want to hear Joel Miller say ‘sorry.’”

“Wasn’t gonna,” he scowled.

“Right, sure. Anyway, nah, they got a box of this shit in the office. I don’t know who makes it, but they want us to look extra dolled up or something.”

“Take that shit off. I can’t do this with you lookin’ like that.”

The smirk slid off your face. “Can’t do what?”

“Can’t fuck you, sweetheart. Isn’t that why you’re here? I paid for ya’, after all.”

Your stomach churned like the angry sea you had only read about in Moby Dick. You felt about as well as a sailor might have, too. It’s not like you had any misunderstandings about what would happen if you worked a shift at a whorehouse. But with your sister sick and unable to work, you’d been out of food for two days. So.

He looked at you with something too close to pity, so you pulled the dress over your head and threw it on the floor, staring right at him and daring him to say anything. And he did, but it wasn’t what you were expecting.

“You got pretty tits, sweetheart.”

“Thank you… ?”

“What was your plan here? What if it wasn’t me? You just going to let some old creep come in here and do whatever he wanted to ya?”

“And you’re not an old creep?”

He rolled his eyes and sat down on the chair, tugging at his boots. “This ain’t your first time, right?”

“Obviously not,” you snapped. It wasn’t. But he didn’t need to know there had only been the one time. You hadn’t found the experience worth repeating, but the guy seemed pretty happy so you figured you could just lie there and let them do whatever.

“You know how to suck cock?”

You flushed and shook your head. He rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands, rubbing at his forehead for a few seconds.

“Okay, alright. ‘Nother time, then.”

You were too nervous to clock what he said. He rose and walked over to the bed. You looked up at him with wide eyes, and he knew he had to wreck you. He couldn’t walk out of this room without ruining you for every other person who dared to lay hands on you.

He set his hands on your hips, and you flinched, so he rubbed soothing circles with his thumbs until you relaxed a little. When you had adjusted to the weight of his heavy palms, he slid them and cupped a breast in each.

“Damn, sweetheart. These are real nice.” He fondled them like that for a minute, enjoying the heft in his palms, before rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. He was rewarded for his efforts when a small moan slipped out of you.

He tore his eyes away from your chest to check your expression. Though your lips were parted and eyes glazed, you still looked afraid. “S’all right, honey, I’ll go slow.”

He leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth while he rolled the other between his fingers. You moaned again, louder this time, and he took that as permission to give the other breast the same treatment. When you finally started to ease up, to lean into his touch, and he felt more assured that you weren’t about to cry, he stepped back.

“Turn around, hands and knees.”

The apprehension filled the lines of your face quickly, but you turned around, relieved he wouldn’t make you look at him.

He ran a hand across your bare back, pushing your shoulder blades down with one hand and your knees apart with the other until you were arranged how he liked. You tensed, holding your breath and waiting for him to push in.

Instead, you felt a gentle hand on your mound. He cupped it before parting your lips, sliding his fingers through. You were damp, but nowhere near wet enough to take him. Not without a whole lot of pain, at least.

“Got a real pretty pussy, too. You’ve been holdin' out on me.” He circled your clit with the pad of his middle finger for a few seconds, watching you squirm, before he pulled his hand away.

“Anyone ever tasted you? You ever taste yourself?”

You shook your head.

“Shame.” It was a puff of hot breath over your cunt, followed closely by the warm, firm pressure of his tongue.

You wailed. You might have been embarrassed if it hadn’t been the best thing you’d ever felt, beating the record he had set seconds ago with his finger.

He didn’t ease you into this. It took no time at all for his skilled tongue and thick fingers to pry an orgasm out of you. He had worked one finger in you by the time you fell apart, but it wasn’t going to be enough.

You wriggled when he didn’t let up, trying to lurch away, but he pulled you back with a hand on your hip. “Hang on, let me open you up good.”

It was intense, and you were loud, swearing up a storm. When he eased another finger inside, you pushed back against his hand, grinding your hips. He sucked on your clit, flicking it with his tongue, until you came again, this time with a low groan pulled from deep in your chest, sinking back onto his fingers. He slid another one in, pumping furiously until the second orgasm turned into a third, and you were shaking apart.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, stroking soothingly along your spine and drawing his fingers from you. He wanted to push them between your lips, to watch your eyes go wide as you sucked your juices from him, but decided he better not push you too far. Not today, at least.

“You ready for me?” he asked, unzipping his jeans and letting them fall around his ankles.

“Please, Joel.”

And goddamn, if that wasn’t the sweetest sound. “Yeah? You want my cock now?”

“Please, please fuck me, Joel.” You were pushing back against him, grinding your ass against his erection.

“Alright, sweetheart, I’ll take care of ya.” He held you in place with one hand and notched the fat head of his cock at your entrance.

You cried out as he pushed in slowly. “Oh my god. What the fuck. Why are you so fucking big?” You didn’t even mean to be complimenting him. The one dick you had before had certainly not felt like this, like you were being pried apart.

“You gotta relax, sweetheart, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“That’s easy for you to say; you’re not being — oh fuck,” you broke off as he pushed in further.

“Not being what, honey? I didn’t hear ya.”

“Not being fucking split in two by some fuckin—”

He knocked whatever insult you were gearing up for out of you in a strangled breath as his hands gripped tight to your hips and pulled you back on his cock.

“Almost there, don’t worry. I gotcha,” he murmured, reaching around to rub at your clit. It didn’t take much to get you off again, and when your body shook and convulsed, he slid his cock in all the way.

He had planned on giving you a moment to adjust, but you started gently rocking yourself back and forth on it like a fuckin’ handwritten invitation. He began pulling almost all the way out before slowly sinking in, letting you part around him. His groan had you arching your back.

You thought he’d fuck rough. It might have been easier if he had. When you realized he was serious about it, that he had paid real fucking ration cards for access to your body, you figured he’d use you, cum, and leave.

Instead, he took you apart with precision. You wondered if he was a musician before, the way his fingers seemed to know right where to go, just how to thrum your body to draw out sounds you didn’t even know were inside you.

The rhythm he set was fluid and deep. You felt like you might explode, each stroke leaving you with fewer coherent thoughts. He hefted you against his chest, thrusting up into you and reaching around to your breasts.

It was a little overwhelming. Your whole body electrified, just the brush of his arm against yours sent waves of too much too much coursing through. All the while, his hips rolled into you, and yours mindlessly sought him back.

He was getting close, his thrusts a little sloppy. He held you to him with one hand cupping a breast and slid the other down to press against your clit. “Cum on my cock,” he growled in your ear.

It didn’t take long with the steady pressure and the way his cock nudged something inside you that made you twitch with every thrust. When you came, he shoved you down into the mattress, pulling out to cum over your ass.

You must have dozed off for a minute, because the wet washcloth landing on your back brought you abruptly into the world.

“Clean up, drink that, and get outta here.”

You glowered at him, head spinning from the sudden shift. He made you off-kilter and vulnerable, which was not an option, so you snarled back, “What, you think you’re my only client? I’ve got other men to fuck today, Joel.”

He finished tying his boots and stalked over to you, bending down to get in your face. “No, you don’t. You’re gonna go home like a good girl. And next time, you come straight to me. Understood?”

“What?”

“You still cockdumb? Poor thing.”

“Fuck off, Joel.”

He pressed the water bottle into your hands. “Next time you need cards this bad, you don’t come here. You come to me.”

“I’m not taking your handouts, Miller.”

“I’m not offerin’em. But you keep comin’ here, doin’ this? You’re gonna catch something worse than fuckin’ cordyceps. Or get yourself knocked up. We can make this same little arrangement if you need to.” He tilted your head up to face him. “Understood?”

“Fine,” you spat.

He stood up. For a moment, you thought he might say something else, but he just shook his head and left.

next chapter

*title from "Stood a Chance" by Taking Back Sunday

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #qz!joel #pre-tlou #kinktober 2023 #you know you never stood a chance series

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scholastic-dragon · 1 year

Note

Could you maybe write a first kiss with bayverse raphael and his s/o like I feel like raph would get shy kinda? You know, like he really wants to, but he just keeps getting nervous and flustered.

Your work if amazing 👏 And I hope you are doing well btw👋 have a great day!!

Yes just yes

Bay!Raph x Gn!reader

Feels Like Forever

Warnings: aged up turtles, first kisses, insecurities, spelling mistakes, talking through your problems, yay a healthy relationship,

Raph was many things.

Brave. Powerful. Strong. Stubborn. Kind. Considerate.

But shy was never a word you'd thought you'd say.

And yet it was the only one that best described him these last few weeks. More specifically when you two started dating, a few weeks ago.

Before you vocalized your affections to the big brute, it was constant and incessant, flirting and teasing between you two.

And then it suddenly stopped. What you couldn't figure out is why.

Why had he stopped flirting? He used to look you dead in the eyes, say the dirtiest pick-up line in history, and then wink. Now, he couldn't even glance your way when snuggled up on the couch.

You lost your cool a few days later during movie night at the lair. You sat at the end of the couch and he sat on your left side, thighs just grazing each other.

At first you figured he was a bit shy because his brothers were in the room, then he suddenly had a comically large bowl of popcorn in his lap.

Every time you looked at him, hoping to make a move, he was doing something that stopped you.

It was Raph's choice for the movie(s) and he chose the Lord of The Rings franchise, but given how late you all started, one by one his brothers called it a night and left for bed.

You, Raph, and Donnie were all the remained at 1 AM in the middle of the second movie. And your fuse had completely dissipated, you desperately wanted him to make a move, hell you were ready to pull him into your lap and call him baby girl.

Donnie shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth, laying down on the opposite couch, long legs extended out. Damn you, cock blocker.

Finally, Raph finished his bowl of food, leaned forward, putting it on the coffee table, then reclining back. His stupidly large bicep on the couch behind your shoulders.

Huffing to yourself, you rip your hand out from your blanket and put it on his thigh. His whole body went ridged, inhaling sharply. You saw him peer down at you, but you kept your eyes forward.

He was bound to figure out that you wanted someone to make a move.

"Oh geez," Donnie glanced at his watch, reaching above his glasses to rub the space between his eyes. "It's really getting late and Sensei wants me up early for extra training," Donnie pulled his blanket off, standing up and nodding to you both. "I'm heading to bed, night guys,"

"Night, Donnie," You smile, you know Donnie saw your hand on Raph's thigh. His eyes shifted from your legs to both of your faces, a small smirk creeping up before he left the room.

When you heard Donnie's bedroom door closed, your thumb scratched the inside of his thigh. Oh how wonderful it was that tonight he decoded to wear small shorts.

Raph leaned in, his voice very very quiet. "What're ya doing?" A few months ago had you done this, Raph's tone would have been playful and teasing, a promise of what would have come if you were his. But right now, it was....scared? No, Raph wasn't scared of you. Perhaps, embarrassed?

"Watching a movie with my boyfriend," You turn your head, looking up at him. "What're you doing?"

After an embarrassed chuckled, Raph rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" You whisper, the movies long forgotten, looking up into his large green eyes.

He swallowed thickly, meeting your eyes again. "No, it's not that,"

"Then what is it? You've....you've been acting a bit weird lately," Rubbing gentle circles on his thigh, you scoot back, turning to face him more.

"Ya know how...a few weeks ago you said I could be honest about anything?" His voice was still hushed, as if afraid someone else that wasn't you might hear.

You nod. "And I still mean it, you can tell me anything, baby, you don't have to be embarrassed."

"Well, I....I just," He sighed, looking down into your awaiting eyes, seeing nothing but admiration. He swallowed his pride and opened his mouth. "You're my first relationship and I....don't really know what I'm doing,"

You rest your head against his bicep, pulling your blanket over his lap as well. "You were a lot....flirtier? I don't know if that's a word, but you were more open about what you thought, what changed?"

"It was easy 'cause I was just acting, I didn't know you actually felt the same, it was just banter back then, but now if I say something I have to mean it, and I don't want to disappoint ya,"

"Oh, baby," You coo, taking your hand off his thigh and cupping his face.

"I just want whats best for ya," He mumbled, leaning into your palm, laying gentle kisses onto the skin.

"You are whats best for me," You smile up at him, sitting up and touching foreheads. "I just want you baby, and whatever you can give me,"

"Even....even if it's a clumsy first kiss?"

You smiled, fingers dancing along his jaw. "Those are my favorite," You leaned in, closing your eyes and pursing your lips. You let him take the leap, pressing his hesitant lips to yours.

You were immediately hooked, tasting the salt and caramel from the popcorn, the nervousness of his hand creeping up your leg, the way you felt the subtle shake it his broad shoulders.

You pulled away, face as red as his mask, you smiled kissing his chin and leaning back slightly.

He had a dreamy and far away look on his face.

"Everything you were hoping for?" You giggle.

"And more," He leaned in, kissing you softly as the movie became nothing more than white noise.

tags: @turtle-babe83 @thelaundrybitch @sketch-and-write-lover @mysticboombox @leosgirl82 @strawberrycakeblog @dilucsflame33 @happymoonangel @tmnt-tychou @m1dnyt3-w0lf @sewerninno @eveandtheturtles

#little smootchy smootchy for big red #😘😘😘#tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt raph #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt aged up #kisses prompt list #it is my works #thanks for the ask!

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bokettochild · 10 months

Text

Blupee Bait

Been thinking about @sraksha's blupee artworks with Legend and.... well, y'all know me at this point.

If it's cute Legend stuff, I can't say no.

“Wild, give it a rest,”

The champion scowls, but drops his bow for not the third time that day. “I swear I saw something.”

“Like what?” Legend grumbles, not bothering to glance up at his fellow hero as he follows along behind him, “a squirrel? Kid, we’re in a forest, there’s animals everywhere.”

“An’ ya don’t need to hunt ‘em all.” Twilight scolds, glancing over his shoulder at the champion.

Said champion grumbles, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have grounds to. Wild’s been known to shoot down near anything he can in preparation for any time where they have neither time or prey to hunt. It’s a fair practice, on some fronts. As someone who’s seen what the road looks like with an empty belly, empty bag, and no prospects of hunting, Legend can appreciate the champion’s incessant need to restock on his provisions. That said though, he’s not sure they can even store anything else, what with how good hunting has been as of late. Not that Twilight had liked that to begin with, but food is food, and whether or not one knows what it’s like to stand at the other end of the arrow or not, be hunted and chased, he doesn’t see any reason to back the rancher up with his attempts at dissuading the cook from his craft. They are nine men and boys with hearty appetites after all; meat will fill them far faster than anything else, and realistically speaking, takes far less time to gather a fair portion of.

Even so, Wild’s bow has hardly left his hand since they’d come to his world through the portal, and they’re supposedly coming wthin bounds of one or another of this era’s stables, where monsters aren’t such a threat that that would be needed. The teen's behaviours are setting him ill at ease, and he’s already uncommonly snappish as of late, even for himself.

He’s not sure why, but there’s some part of him screaming at him every time he isn’t actively trying to keep them all alive and together, and he’s yet to determine what it is because he’s so busy trying to block out it and all other pains and pressing annoyances in favor of focusing on IT. He can’t name what IT might be, but he’s felt the eyes on him for days now. Wild’s drawing and staring at the air only adds to his unease, but as the champion has yet to see or shoot or even strike anything, much less some stalker or enemy, he’s not sure what to make of it. Maybe his mind is really giving out on him after all these years, as Ravio worries. Maybe he really is going insane or becoming paranoid. It could just be birds, just something innocent and harmless. He’s bright red after all, rather eye catching in comparison to his brothers, saving Four, who is of course all the more so and not for the right reasons.

Heavens above, if Styla could meet the smithy, she’d faint dead away at his jesterly fashion sense.

Not that anybody in the group fits the princess’ standards, but he’ll digress; he’s not exactly blending in with everything right now.

Still, even birds look away after long enough. Yet that shiver, the creeping feeling of eyes on him has him glancing back warily despite himself, and only further encouraging Wild’s excessive staring into the trees.

There is something there, something watching.

It’s not harmful. He’s not sure how he knows that, but he does. It’s no enemy or monster, although the sense of power that radiates to him from the trees where nothing can be seen would indicate that he really should register it as far more of a threat. Most times it’s consistent, a thrum of magic seeping towards him. Other times though, mostly when Wild is too busy to stare back and draw his bow, there has been Something Else, and It’s magic, when It comes, comes in a surge that will make him stumble, will make his legs feel weak and his mind cloud for a moment that spikes panic even despite the overwhelming sense of peace that seems to call to him from the forest.

Legend has never been one to stray from the path, but there is some part of him all but demanding he do so now, and only a wavering sense of self control, mixed with an influx of anxious “what ifs” has kept him from bending to that impulse.

It can only hold so very much longer though. He’s tired. Of fighting, of pain, of the sense of wrongness he feels in his own skin; the urge to claw and tear and hiss at the way it fits over his frame, how it feels, how his clothes feel and his boots and his jewelry. It’s all too much and not enough, and mixed with the aches of battle, the aches caused by cold and the aching in his joints, his hands, his shoulders; it’s altogether exhausting. He’s not sure how much longer he’ll last before his mind crumbles, and he’ll give into whatever impulse promises some sense of relief or release from the wrongness and pain that surrounds and overwhelms him.

Not that he can express that, but...

Legend shakes his head, both in hopes of dismissing the thoughts but also to dislodge the feeling of eyes following, watching, waiting.

The small red one is not well.

They’d noticed when the flare of magic in the air had spiked, drawing the attention of all of them, and even The Lord to come and to see what had caused such an influx in an otherwise magic-drained land. Eight strangers, eight figures with burning souls had been their answer, accompanied by the all too familiar sight of the Boy that wanders this land.

He’s an odd one, that Boy. The tree folk care for him, fawn over him and welcome him. The Great Tree speaks of him with fondness and warmth. He is blessed by the hands of the fairies whose blossoms lay throughout the land. Magic seeps from him as water from a cracked vessel, yet never does he employ it’s power. He is blessed and beloved by the Wilds and the all that they include, saving of course themselves.

Despite the Great Tree's assurance that he is harmless, Their Lord bids them be wary, and the arrows that fly at them from the Boy are a reminder to obey such a command.

Now though, despite the drawing of the bow and the flying of arrows, they follow close by, regardless of orders given.

They cannot help it; there is a Kit with the Boy.

He is, by sight, a hylian like the Boy and the others whose souls sing with goddess blessed fire, but his soul, like the Boy, whispers of some Otherness that is not found in the hylian people who wander and live throughout this land. Where in others there is an emptiness, in these nine there is an Other-ness, a sense of something beneath, hiding claws and teeth and snapping jaws, which exists in these that travel through roads, bramble and plains.

There are wolves here. A dragon. There are teeth and sharpness, danger and power. Yet, in the midst of it all, a kit wanders behind, soul flickering, weak, magic pulsing and screaming for aid, for relief. Where they burn, he flickers, magic burning out, flame low, ready to burn it’s last.

They cannot have that.

The Boy and his companions do not see it, must not, for if they could, no doubt they ought to be about fixing it and offering aid, but they do not. No, they are blind and stupid as most of their kind are, seeing only what is before their eyes and not reaching out with their burning souls to sense that about them for what it is beneath its pretty form and face. They do not sense, and will not try, and as such the kit’s soul flickers further.

It cannot stand.

So, since the strange ones do not see, will not act, and stand about blind, they will follow. They follow, watching, waiting. There must come a time, they reason, that the Boy will lower his guard, will stop shooting and watching and looking long enough that they can catch the kit’s eye and draw him away. It should only take the smallest effort; him being young, his curiosity will take him before he knows what he does, and they can lead away and to safety. The Lord has no knowledge of their plan, despite his coming the once to see what it is that keeps them from returning to him, but they have little doubt that he will accept the kit.

Kits are very rare, after all, and such a curious one as this is most uncommon. He is neither their kind nor not. He is magic, but not in the same strain. He is almost kin, but not quite; a distortion of themselves like light caught between a dozen dewdrops to scatter brilliant in colors that otherwise will not make themselves known.

He is beautiful.

The Lord will love him, they are sure. They only need make him look and see, rather than turn his many wondrous eyes to these strange anomalies and simply bid them be wary and away.

Yes, they are disobeying his order, but if this sick and troubled kit is brought to him, he will understand why. He would want them to help, if he knew, and so they will do their all to offer aid.

They just need the Boy to stop lingering so close and shooting at them.

It takes days before he does.

They’re watching when the gathering of strangers settles in the shelter made in Malanya’s image. The Boy’s first actions are to turn his attentions to the pot of fire and start working. The two wolves stray away towards Malanya’s children, the dragon helping the smaller ones settle within the shelter. The kit goes with but strays out not long after.

His eyes are glassy, weariness seeping from him. The shield of magic that has held in defense around those in his gathering is now dropped, and the flickering flame within seems to burn ever lower now that it is no longer forced to burn at all. His steps are slow, eyes dragging over the land, cute, pointed little ears turning towards them, as though he knows that they are there, but still his eyes and ears do not catch on them.

Kits are like that; their sense of magic is always stronger than any other they hold.

They spring out and towards him.

It takes only a moment to catch his eye. He watches so keenly, startled and staring. His eyes are like a twilight sky, fixed on blue light and glittering gaze as he is leveled with their stare.

“Holy...”

Not quite, they muse, but nearly there.

They step towards him, an action mirrored by the kit, unthinking and impulsive. Amusement darts through them as they stare, cocking their head on one side, waiting for the next straying step (out of bounds, out of watch from the Boy and the wolves). It only takes a second or two before he is straying closer, and when he does, they turn, darting off and away from the shelter of the hylians, and back towards where they belong.

He calls out, surprised, no doubt, feet stumbling after. When they glance back, stopping, he looks confused, blinking and starting as though unsure why he follows, why he’d called out. They can’t help but thrum with fondness. He’s cute, so clueless and lost.

He’s also unwell though, magic too weak. Had they the skill, they’d settle beside him now and offer their own to strengthen, but pure as they may be, they will not be enough to offer him what he needs. He will be needing others to aid, and The Lord’s blessing would be most helpful as well. They just need to bring him along, tempt him just far enough to be granted what he needs.

It’s not long, or far, Little Kit, just follow after.

He does not, however. He stops, watching them and blinking slowly in confusion, and so they turn back. He starts as they stop before him, stumbles back when they hop close enough to touch, eyes wide and lips parted, gaping down at them as though unsure what it is that he witnesses. Unlike the Boy though, he draws no weapon. Rather, they can feel his magic, weak but curious, reaching out in a question they can’t yet answer, not yet, but if he will follow, he will see.

They nuzzle gently, rub against booted feet, and then, before hands can reach to touch, they dart back the way they came from, pausing at the top of a knoll, turning back and watching.

The kit blinks at them.

Legend has absolutely no clue what is happening. He’d stepped out of the stable to avoid the chatter of the strange merchant that half the group seems to recognize, the man’s voice grating on his nerves, and the incessant chattering about insects only further worsening the problem. His intent had been to settle beneath a tree for a moment’s rest, out of sight, out of mind, and away from judgement from the other heroes.

He did not expect to find himself staring as a blue rabbit appeared out of thin air.

Naturally, his first thoughts had been one of shock, but in seconds a thousand questions were racing about in his head, curiosity pushing him to cautiously make his way towards the creature. Strangely, the thing made its way towards him as well.

It didn’t seem to be scared of him, whatever it was. In fact, the magic that poured off of it, strong and other and... strangely familiar, seemed almost welcoming, in a way he’d never quite encountered.

He couldn’t put a reason to why he’d darted after it when it had started away, or even to why the thing had turned back and hopped along towards him again, brushing gently against his legs before springing back and away, only to pause and look back to him, almost as though waiting. Just the same, he couldn’t put a reason to why he had followed.

It’s the most curious looking thing he’s seen in a while; the face of an owl, but a body not unlike that his own will become when touched with darkness. Stranger still though: it glows. He’s met precious few things that glow, at least by their own power, and most tend to be something to be avoided, but this... this thing, seems to be harmless in nature.

Not that that prevents him wondering after where it’s leading him, or even why. That, however, does not stop him following, despite a very weary voice in his mind warning to not, that he doesn’t know this place or this world, that there is no path to follow and he’s alone now, without the others.

He should at least tell them where he is, right?

But if he turns back now, he’ll lose the strange creature, and if there’s one thing six adventures have taught him, it’s that finding and following the thing all over again will only wear further on what precious little patience he still has left in him. Not only that, but he can’t even guarantee that he will find such a thing again, or that it will approach him so openly. He’s certainly never seen one before, in this world or any other, and for it to appear now...

It’s just got to be something important, and he can’t lose it, can’t let whatever this is slip through his fingers, not if it could offer some further step in their newest quest, some promise or item or guidance they may need! So, he follows, darting and running after the little creature that pauses every so often to turn back and make sure he’s still following. He follows it away from the stable and towards what, he doesn’t know, curiosity flooding through him.

The others will understand why he left, right?

The kit is slow.

It’s a long process, darting along only to have to stop every few steps and let him catch up. He’s not stumbling over much, but the poor thing lacks their usual speed, and likely as not lacks the magic to simply fade to The Lord’s side.

Not that they have any intent of forcing the poor thing to try and cross a river and a field, climb a mountain and only then rest. No, they only need regroup with the others, enough that their combined strength will be enough to take him with when they themselves follow the call of their Lord back to where they belong. He will come with, if their magic is shared, as all kits do, and then at last they can show their Lord what they have found and maybe then provide that light that this weakling kit so desperately needs.

The poor thing starts when another of their kind appears beside them, stumbles when yet another darts up from the ground to spring alongside. He slows altogether when at last there are enough of them, eyes wide and staring as they stand at his feet.

He’s so cute and clueless, they can’t help but chirp at him, watching those odd little ears flicker about and his strange little nose wiggle with confusion.

He will understand soon.

The stop, the others following suit, and thus, so too does the kit. He stands amidst them and stares as they gather around, starts as they turn to him and watch, and only after moments of him standing does he seem to find it in himself to settle down among them, crouching low and reaching out, so curious and clueless and lost.

He’s too cute, honestly.

They dart forwards, letting clever fingers touch and thrumming with pride at the little gasp that stutters from the kit at first contact with downy fluff. Doubt seems to fade, worries abate, as the poor thing reaches out, gently lifting them, which thy only welcome as their companions gather closer. Some climb up, darting and flickering, settling on shoulders and legs and all about, covering the little one in their magic, spreading it one to another until, at last, it is strong enough, and then-

The poor kit starts badly when the world flickers pink, when overhead are blossoms and beneath is water and the dusk that has settled over them in their chase grants light that only pales in comparison to their own. He drops them in his shock, but they hold none of it to him. He is unlikely to know what it is to travel as they do, to flicker from one place to where they ought to be, and it is nothing to them to fall that distance when they are at home and in their own place.

“Where on earth-” the kit Is blinking again, staring, turning about and looking altogether confused. That is alright though; answers will come shortly.

They can feel The Lord. He is not with them, not yet, but his power surges about them, and the water trembles all so subtly as they gather at its edges.

Mayhaps it is that, or maybe the fact that they gather, that has drawn the attention of the kit from his confusion to their pool, but he turns with them, stalking slowly over, cautious but still just as curious as a moment before. No temptation is needed to bring him up alongside of the water only seconds before the Lord emerges.

It’s clear in a moment their Lord knows there is something changed, some presence not their own, yet also not that of the Boy who likes to come here to try and catch them, or the hylians who come to hunt. The Lord turns in moments to seek, to find, and golden eyes meet with twilight as the kit starts and stares, jaw gaped, eyes wide, soul sparking in wonder not expressed, but felt by them all and earning a surge of delight.

They can’t help it; the kit’s wonder is a pleasure to witness.

The Lord like ways seems to think so, cautious in his motion but welcoming as he makes for the kit at the edge of his pool, lowering a great head to stare at eyes that stare back, unblinking. They have done well, he deems, to bring the little one here, and greetings are given as he lets crooked hands rise to touch, solemn and reverent, to bury in his mane.

Pink head-fur is tousled by their Lord, soft little sounds of surprise erupting from the kit, but the greeting of their lord is all that is needed for them and the others to gather.

Magic surges, their lord settling, the kit staring and then....

He stills.

To say that this moment feels like a dream would be to put it lightly.

One moment, he’s chasing the strange blue bunny, the next, he’s standing under a cherry tree, water before him and sky all around. The air is cold here, thick too with some oppressive magic, the same as he’s sensed in the woods, following after him; that of the watching thing.

He has all of a moment to wonder if maybe these strange rabbits were doing the watching, but then his mind is drawn to how they gather at the water’s edge, and so he follows. He’s not expecting the beast that appears in a flicker of light, somehow stranger still than the rabbits; a blue stallion with a mane like a lion and two faces, both that of owls. It glows with ethereal light, magic pouring from it in thick waves that have his legs giving out beneath him. If they hadn’t though, the overwhelming urge to kneel in reverence to this great beast would have brought him to his knees regardless.

It’s eyes, all four of them, are fixed on him, it's hooves turning his way, gaze fixed, eyes heavy. It’s hard to do anything save meet the gaze, even as warmth floods over him as the thing bows its head to be level with his own, eyes meeting and holding for a precious second before closing.

Some treacherous part of him dares lift his hand to touch, to feel. His curiosity wins over common sense, but the thing does not stir as he grips its mane. In fact, it holds perfectly still, and it is instead he who is shaken. Magic pours over him like wave, overwhelming yet also...

Peace.

Pain, exhaustion, weariness and worry all fade into something drowsy and subdued. The thoughts that spin without end in his mind slow to something quiet, controlled, relaxed even. He finds himself lifting his hands to drag again through long, impossibly soft hair, the great eyes of the thing opening once more as it leans closer, face touching his own in a gesture he feels ought to mean something, ought to be important, ought to strike something in his mind, some familiarity or feeling, but all he can register is peace, eyes fluttering shut as small bodies press close to his own, climbing over him.

It’s like being drugged, in a peaceful, gentle sort of way. A floating sort of feeling that takes over him and leaves him settling on the shore, unsure when he finds himself lying amidst the odd little creatures, but thoroughly delighted as their furry pelts press to sensitive skin, soothing every sensation with delightful fur he only just resists burying his face in, rubbing against and breathing in. He need not even try though, for they gather around eagerly, and though the great beast, their leader (or perhaps parent? creator?) stands aside, watching, it is a benevolent thing; its presence and magic still settled over, safe and warm and overwhelming to the point of tears.

The little rabbit creatures chirp and fuss at the dampness, but the relief, sweet, precious, much longed for and now all so tangible, only makes them flow more freely, a smile touching his face as that incessant voice within at last stills, relief in a way he can’t name granting itself to him and leaving him lying on the earth, at peace for what feels like the first time since his adventures started.

That’s how Wild finds him later. It’s morning by the time that the champion arrives, huffing and frowning, face awash with worry as he rounds some bend in some path that Legend has missed before. It’s all gone though, when the other hero lays eyes on him.

He’d slept well, although he can’t say when he slept and when he woke. The last hours since coming here are simply a blur of warmth, soft fur, and overwhelming feelings of security and peace. It must show, because Wild’s concern flickers into amusement as the other draws near.

The beast, whatever it had been, in now gone. Before leaving, it had come to him again, brushing his face with its own in what felt like some semblance of a farewell, or maybe a blessing. There’s a part of him that feels maybe there was something said, probably was, but he can’t name the language or manner, only that there had been something conveyed, and something which he can only explain as having been warmth and compassion and kindness spoken. Despite the beast’s departure, however, the strange glowing rabbits have remained, and still settle over him, warm and impossibly soft, although often shifting and moving, springing about and playing over and about him, but never straying far, and he’s been content to similarly stay amongst them, simply enjoying their presence.

“There you are,” Wild murmurs, crouching down beside him and smiling a crooked smile, worry fleeing from his gaze to instead be replaced with amusement. “Have a good night?”

He can only hum his agreement.

Wild chuckles, eyes creasing with laugher as they glitter, the same unnatural blue as the other-worldly rabbits. “What, did you get kidnapped by the blupees or something? You usually don’t stray from the path, vet.”

“Blupees?” Somehow, it’s the only thing to make it off his tongue.

The champion huffs another little laugh, brows raising, “your cuddle partners?”

“Oh.”

The smile he’s sent really has no right to be that teasing, but somehow he doesn’t care, only remaining as he is until the champion’s attentions turn to the beasts (blupees) around them. Blue eyes dart over, confusion and wonder in them as he looks from furry critter to dazed hero and back again. There’s a strange sort of hesitation in the way he reaches out, a thing Wild rarely displays, especially towards animals, but the surprise and delight as scarred hands make contact with fur feels important.

“Huh...”

He doesn’t have it in him to really ask, save turning and staring until blue eyes turn to him and a half-smile touches the face of his brother. “They never let me touch them normally, never mind get close.”

“They lured me away and dragged me here.”

Blond hair blows freely as the champion throws his head back, laughter startling the blupees around them. “Really?” his smile is strangely disbelieving as it falls on the creatures, “who would have thought.” And then, drawing back to himself, those blue eyes turn to Legend, smile playful. “Well, the others are pretty worried. You ready to go?”

Bliss still settles into his very bones, peace and a fullness he can’t describe setting every sensation at ease. “No.”

Wild laughs, standing and offering a hand. ”Come on, vet, the others freaked out when we couldn’t find you last night, and they won’t calm down until I bring you back safe.”

It’s in a begrudging manner that he pushes himself off the ground; not set with moss or anything particularly soft, but somehow better than any bed he’s ever had, and accepts the hand offered to him. The blupees scatter as Wild pulls him to his feet, and that unnamed part of him sighs wistfully, mourning the loss of contact.

He’s not sure why, but he can’t help but stare after the creatures as the champion guides him down the mountain.

They do not want to see him go.

He is better now; magic restored, core recharged. The Lord has said his magic was weak from overuse, his soul crying for aid and support they are only too happy to have offered. A night's sleep and their company will have aided him considerably, and his need is no longer great, nor likely existent, now that the day as come, but that does not change that they do not wish for him to go. Still though, the Lord has also warned them, this kit- though it pleased him to have the little one brought to him- cannot stay. He is already belonging with others, and although their kind may be able to meet needs unseen by the anomalies, this kit cannot be taken from what is already his own.

Watching the Boy come for him stirs up upset within them. Unease makes itself known, worry that he will shoot and strike, but instead all he does is smile, sinking down beneath their kit and offering smiles and laughter in the way of hylians, his teeth not a threat but a kindness as hands not yet clawed offer aid to their kit. It is taken, but they can feel the reluctance, and it makes them preen ever so slightly. They have done well, bringing the kit here. They have done well, bringing him aid.

He will depart, and does, wandering off and away, the Boy talking at him and murmuring strange things, even as violet eyes linger, twilight skies lit with stars that last night were absent, watching gold as gold in turn watch twilight.

He will go, but now they know him.

He will be easy to find again, when they want to.

And they will most certainly want to!

#lu legend #lu wild #linked universe #linkeduniverse #blupees #ketto writes

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spider-stark · 1 year

Text

Anti-Hero // Hero x Villain Trope // pt. 2 //

Previous Part

Summary - Reader and Peter are both living double lives. Spider-Man is considered a national hero, while the reader is viewed as a criminal. In their personal lives, they're both head over heels for one another, their friendship finally blossoming into something more. But as vigilantes? It's complicated

Warnings - Blood, mentions of kidnapping/abuse, knife violence,

Word Count - 4.6k

Your foot bounced against the footrest of the barstool you were sat in, your patience wearing thinner and thinner with each passing minute. Another glance at your phone as it laid face up on the counter, confirming that it had now been twenty-five minutes past when you and Peter were supposed to meet.

Five more minutes, you told yourself, only five.

Peter Pan’s doorbell chimed as soon as the thought crossed your mind, as if Peter knew that you were getting painfully close to assuming that he had ditched you.

“Y/n!” He sounded like he had run several blocks just to get here, gasping for breath as he jogged over to where you sat. Your foot stilled at the sight of him, the anxiety of being stood-up immediately dissipating.

He slid onto the stool beside you, still struggling to steady his breathing. You grinned at him, and the sight only made his lungs feel tighter. “You’re late, Parker.”

A knowing tone, yet so light and playful, and it somehow held the power to wash away all the defeats he had faced today. It was one of the things Peter loved most about you, the way that you could melt all of his stress away, without even lifting a finger.

“I’m sorry.” He choked the apology out between labored breaths, his body finally settling enough to let him try to speak.

While Peter hadn’t run several blocks to get here, he did frantically swing a few dozen blocks, his muscles screaming out in pain the entire time. He was thankful that the annoying girl from earlier had been telling the truth when she said he would recover from the toxin, but he only managed to regain control over his motor skills with enough time to change clothes and come straight to Peter Pan’s to meet you.

She also could have mentioned that he would feel like he got hit by a bus afterwards.

“I started to think you were standing me up.” You admitted.

“Never!” Peter blurted the word out, squinting slightly under the fluorescent lights that only added to the pounding in his head. “Today just felt kind of… paralyzing, I guess.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at his own pun, knowing it would fly right over your head. “Had a hard time getting myself moving.”

Concern suddenly washed over your features, brows pulling together. “Do you feel sick or something?”

You didn’t wait for his answer, leaning forwards on your stool and placing the back of your hand against his forehead. The sudden contact had a blush creeping up his neck, his face beginning to turn red. “You do feel a bit warm.” You hummed with a frown. “You should’ve texted me if you didn’t feel good, we could’ve rescheduled.”

“No!” Another too-quick response, only deepening the crimson shade now painting his cheeks.“I feel great, promise.” He awkwardly cleared his throat, trying to sound a little less, well, excitable. “Just a rough day, ya know? Nothing worth rescheduling over! But I’m still really sorry that I’m late.”

Peter already wanted nothing more than to throw that sorry criminal in jail, if not for being a thief than for attempting to ruin his plans with you. God, they knew just how to get under his skin. He tried to shake the thoughts of them from his mind, wanting to focus entirely on you, his mind free of irritating distractions.

Today might have kicked his ass, but there was no way he would miss out on coming to see you. He struggled to make time for ‘Peter Parker’ things while managing to balance his duties as Spider-Man, but when it came to you? He would gladly shove Spider-Man to the side when possible.

“I get it.” You reassured him, a soft smile that had his heart melting. “My day wasn’t that great either, but that’s just how it goes sometimes, yeah?”

It really hasn't been a great day for you. Getting away from Spider-Man was the only thing that had gone right today. The job you were on earlier when Spidey had caught up to you ended up being a total bust after faulty intel led to your target getting away before you could even make a move. It threw things off for you—left you without a profit and forced you to evaluate your sources.

“Well,” you cleared the brief silence between the two of you, “do you wanna get started?”

Peter only stared at you, those beautiful brown eyes filled with little other than complete confusion as his mind lagged behind. You giggled at how dumbfounded he looked, and while he was slightly embarrassed, he also savored the sound of your laugh.

“On studying.” You clarified with your index finger tapping against the garishly colored chemistry textbook laid on the counter. “Our test is next week and I really don’t wanna fail Mr. Harrington’s class.”

Peter’s mouth formed a perfect O shape, his head nodding along as you reminded him of the reason why the two of you were meeting up today. Truth be told, he had been purposely letting himself forget about the ‘study’ part of your study date.

“Oh, yeah.” He shook his head a bit, keeping his gaze focused on the coffee-stained countertop in hopes that you wouldn’t see that he was still blushing. “Sorry, I’m still not all here yet.”

“We can still reschedule, ya know? If you’re just not feeling up to this right now.” You hesitantly reminded him, silently hoping that he would say no, that he would insist that he stay. It had been days since the two of you made these plans, and you had been looking forward to spending time with him.

“No, really, I’m fine!” Peter answered your silent pleading, adding a smile. “I think we need to be on page 279.”

You nodded in response, returning the expression before moving to flick through the pages of the book.

To be honest, Peter really couldn’t comprehend why you needed his help to pass Harrington’s class. In nearly every other subject you were at the top of your class, serving as one of his biggest academic competitors at Midtown. What he didn’t know, however, was that the only reason you needed his help was because of certain distractions in class.

Chemistry was the only class the two of you had together, and unfortunately that meant that the majority of it was spent with you staring at the back of Peter’s head and barely listening to a word Mr. Harrington said (too busy daydreaming about what it would be like to run your fingers through his gorgeous wavy hair). Your little crush had ultimately led to you just barely passing the class, which had turned out to be quite convenient, as it served as an excuse to ask Peter for help and get the chance to hangout with him outside of school.

“Oh c’monnn.” You groaned as you examined the page, immediately filled with dread when you read scientific notation printed in big bold letters.

“I promise it’s really not that hard!” Peter tried to assure you, hiding his amusement at your dramatic reaction as you pressed your forehead against the book, little sounds of protests still falling from your mouth. “You’ve got this, mkay? I’ve got full faith in you.”

“As sweet as that is, Parker,” your close proximity to the paper muffled your speech as you refused to face him, “math is actually my arch-nemesis. I’m horrible at it.”

Besides Spider-Man, you jokingly thought to yourself.

“It’s not nearly as bad as it sounds though!” Peter continued to make promises that did little to ease your dread. “Let’s just give it a try.”

You turned your head to the side just a bit, cheek still flush against the book as you looked over at him from the corner of your eye. “Do I even need to know how to do this? Like, if I don’t pursue a career in chemistry, will I ever need to actually understand scientific notation?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Give me an example.”

“I don’t know, what if you wanna figure out how many drops of water are in a river? You’d need scientific notation.”

You furrowed your brows at him, although still amused by the response. “Why would I ever wanna know that?”

Peter’s shoulders lifted into a shrug, an action he swiftly regretted as a burning pain coursed through his forearm, a reminder of the wound he sustained earlier that hadn’t quite healed yet. He gritted his teeth at the sensation, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Whoa.” You quickly straighten your posture, staring at him cautiously. “Are you good?”

He forced out a quiet mhm sound as he bit down on the inside of his cheek, desperately hoping the feeling would subside. Peter wasn’t used to his healing abilities being so impaired, yet another side effect of the toxin, and he had forgotten just how much it hurt to be injured.

“Are you sure?” You asked again, clearly not convinced by his less-than-impressive attempt at hiding his discomfort. “Is it your shoulder or back or something?”

Peter felt your hand coming towards him, his Spider-senses snapping him out of his current agony as you hovered just inches above the covered wound. He reached out and grabbed your wrist so suddenly that it made you gasp, shocked by how fast he had moved.

“Sorry.” He apologized, immediately loosening his grip. Your eyes remained wide, the shock still evident alongside a bit of suspicion. “I think I pulled something in my shoulder the other day and it’s still sorta tender to touch, ya know?”

He already felt guilty for the lie, but it was the best he could come up with to ensure you wouldn’t try to reach for him again. Coming up with lies was already difficult for him, and he had no clue how he’d be able to craft a story for how he ended up with a giant slice taken out of his arm if you found out.

“You really have the worst luck, don’t you?” You mused, your hand retreating back to your lap as you spoke. “I still have trouble believing that last week you accidentally ran into that streetlight and gave yourself a black eye!”

Peter laughed nervously, thinking back to the moment. Funny enough, he hadn’t really been lying about that one. Sure, he had been swinging and not running, but he did hit a streetlight. “What can I say? I’m just not the most coordinated.” He fidgeted in his seat, an action you equated to embarrassment.

In reality, the action had been fueled by anxiety. There had been too many close calls lately, too many instances where he had to make up an excuse for a bruise or a cut or whatever else, especially with the new girl running around. He was running out of lies to tell, and more than that, he was getting tired of having to lie.

“Well at least try and be more careful, alright?” You teased him, though your concern for him was still evident. While he might’ve hated lying about his injuries, he did quite enjoy the way you’d dote over him whenever you’d discover a new one, always desperate for your affection in whatever way he could receive it. “If I’m gonna pass chemistry then I’m gonna need my tutor in one piece!”

Peter grinned, returning your teasing tone, “If you’re gonna pass chemistry then you’re gonna need to learn scientific notation.”

You jutted your bottom lip out in a pout, a low groan following suit. “Fine.” You reached for the book, sliding it closer to the two of you while scooting your stool a bit closer to Peter’s. “But you owe me.”

“I owe you?” He shot you a bewildered stare, struggling not to laugh.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“I’m the one helping you pass chemistry.” He noted, shifting his index finger from himself to you as he spoke. “So technically wouldn’t you be the one that owes me?”

“Nope. Pretty sure I was right. You owe me.” You feigned complete seriousness, mocking him by pointing your finger in his direction.

He decided to play along, electing to ignore the fact that you’re just procrastinating studying. “Okay, fine. So what do I owe you?”

You paused for a moment, a mischievous look appearing on your face, causing Peter to raise a brow at you. “A date.” You declared confidently, taking advantage of the opportunity. “A real one. No school stuff or anything.”

Peter felt his heart skip in his chest.

“Deal.”

Maybe learning scientific notation was worth it.

Coming to Queens was a risky move, one that you didn’t like to make often. It was one of two places in the city that you liked to avoid—the other being Hell’s Kitchen—in an attempt to try and avoid running into anyone with devil horns or spiderwebs.

Luckily, your line of work typically kept you out of the ‘problem’ areas of the city. The majority of your targets were New York's wealthiest, the kind of people that wouldn’t so much as dream of stepping foot outside of Manhattan.

You much preferred meeting them in their own territory, finding it all the more enjoyable to toy with them in the places where they felt safest. But, sometimes, that just wasn’t a possibility for one reason or another. Despite that, bringing your business into Spider-Man’s self proclaimed home territory was always a dangerous move.

In this case, though, it was unavoidable.

For months you had kept a close eye on councilman Rupert Fletcher, a man that many others in your circle had tried to go after, only to fail time after time. At first, you struggled to understand how so many accomplished thieves had somehow been stumped on such a painfully average man.

Despite Fletcher's status as a councilman, he was of little importance, his wealth being the only thing to put a target on his back. On the surface, he lived a rather average life of a man in his position.

He owned a sizable penthouse on the Upper East Side that he shared with his wife and their french bulldog. A quick peek at his schedule revealed that his weekdays were typically spent in the office, the deviation being an occasional conference. His weekends were always the same, a trip to the country club in Spring Valley to decompress and unwind.

There were sizable gaps in his schedule, several windows of time where his apartment was left unoccupied, with his weekend trips to the country club and his wife’s recent trip back to her home country for family matters—essentially meaning that Rupert Fletcher was every thief’s wet dream. Yet, even the craftiest of them all came out empty handed, claiming the man’s home was unusually bare. There was nothing of much importance in it, no safes filled with cash, no lavish jewelry. It was painfully basic, appearing as little more than a model home. Every one that dared to go after him all left the same: empty handed.

You started to think you hit a dead end with him, after questioning every single person in your circle, desperate to dig up something on him. That is until a tiny girl by the name of Red made an offhand comment, one she clearly thought was of little importance.

“The best I got out of it was this Dukes of Hazzard keychain,” she flashed a disturbing grin, the street lights illuminating the silver caps on her teeth, “better than nothin, right?”

It was better than nothing. A lot better.

While the keychain itself was rather stupid and not something you cared about, there had been a dingy key dangling off of it, a tag attached that read: StorageMart #813. At first you considered the thought that it had belonged to Red, but given the fact that a pristine Bugatti key hung alongside it, you quickly decided that it must’ve been Fletchers.

That same night, you broke into the office of the StorageMart that night, combing through their records until you found payment receipts for unit 813. It hadn’t shocked you when you saw it was purchased under a different last name: Petrov. You recognized it as his wife’s maiden name, a fact learned through your prior research on him. With confirmation that it was his unit, you wasted no time with swiping a key from the utility office and heading straight for the unit.

Its contents were a mystery to you, your imagination running wild. What could it be? Diamonds? Gold bars? A Dukes of Hazzard boxset? You weren’t sure, and truthfully, you didn’t care all that much as long as it was something of value. You didn’t know what he was hiding in the unit, but what you did know was that Rupert Fletcher was a bad man, and he deserved to pay for it.

And discovering what he had worked so hard to keep secret only cemented that fact.

The first thing you saw was a mattress laid out on the cold cement floor, a tattered blanket with the thickness of a sheet of newspaper spread across it. Beside it was a dingy orange bucket, the scent of what was inside practically overwhelming your senses entirely. You almost considered slamming the door shut, almost decided to cut your losses and get out of there before you emptied the contents of your stomach on the floor and left evidence of your presence.

But then, you heard it. A faint voice, small and fragile, the words in a language you didn’t know. You didn’t need to understand what she said to know who she was, though, to know that you had finally caught Fletcher in his biggest crime of all.

A bit of gossip tends to go a long way. It took a bit of work to find out where the women in Fletcher’s wife’s inner circle like to hang out, but it turned out to be well worth the struggle as all of them sat amongst themselves at lunch and chatted about how she had been threatening divorce months prior, and their theories of what he had done to her upon finding out, entirely unaware of the listening ear just a table over. A bit more digging led to gaining even more intel on Fletcher’s past tumultuous relationships, only furthering the suspicions.

“Ms. Petrov?” You purposely opted to avoid use of her married name, hoping that it would indicate to her that you were there to help, not to cause further harm.

The woman was emaciated and looked as if she were just days away from death, and you struggled to hide your shock. “I’m gonna get you out of here, alright?” A promise you intended on keeping.

A huge part of you wanted to take the story public, to take pictures of the unit before he could destroy any evidence she was here and send it straight to the Daily Bugle. Jameson was an asshole, but he was never one to miss out on a good story. But, despite your desire to see Fletcher’s mugshot on the news, you bit your tongue.

It wasn’t your story to share. And, even if Petrov had wanted to come clean and expose him to the world, men like Fletcher were rarely forced to deal with the consequences of what they’d done. He was too wealthy, too well-known, too powerful.

Which was exactly why you were back here in Queens, at the same shabby StorageMart you had pulled Fletcher’s wife from just a few days ago. She was safe, staying in a women's shelter upstate, already beginning to plan her trip back home where she would be away from Fletcher for good. There was just one thing she needed before she could make her escape.

“Thanks Rupey.” You sang over your shoulder, lazily wiping the ruby stained blade against your pants, “It was a pleasure doing business with ya.”

He coughed a few obscenities in your direction, but made no move towards you as you headed towards the door of unit 813, too weak to move from where he laid on the floor. Everyone liked to put on a good show at the end, run their mouth just enough to make themselves feel like they put up a fight. You usually ignored it. Usually.

“How much did you take?” He spat in your direction, your footsteps falling silent as you paused by the door.

You didn’t like his tone, the arrogance in his voice, his domineering attitude. You were a bit shocked that he had any snide remarks left in him, and even more shocked that he could even form words after you knocked two of his teeth loose.

“I took what I needed.” You assured him, your own tone calm and collected in comparison to his. “And then some. Gotta make a profit in this business somehow, Rupe.”

His wife had told you he would be here tonight, promised that he came by every other day just to chuck some food in her direction and try to convince her to reconsider her decision to leave him. Waiting for him was easy, since she said that Fletcher liked to stick to a tight schedule, and incapacitating him was even easier.

A quick slash to the forehead, just a half an inch above his brows. It was the easiest way to stun someone, there were enough capillaries in the forehead to cause profuse bleeding that would eventually impair their vision, making it even easier to keep control over the situation. Immobilizing him wasn’t hard either, a quick jab to his right leg, maybe two or so inches deep. Deep enough that the average person wouldn’t be able to keep their weight on it without passing out from the pain, but nowhere deep enough that he would bleed out from the wound.

After that, it was as easy and slipping his phone out of his pocket, forcing him to use touch-ID to get into his bank account (threatening to cut off someone's thumb makes it quite easy to get them to follow instructions) and then transferring a couple hundred thousand dollars to an untraceable bank account you had a friend set up for his wife. Fletcher had been the one to ruin her life and damn near kill her, it was only fair that he was the one to pay for her new one, especially if that was the only justice she’d ever get.

“They’re gonna find you–” Fletcher swore, his strained voice growing louder as you moved to open the door, “I have cameras set up in here! There’s cameras all over this fucking property! The cops are gonna find you!”

You gave him a quick glance over your shoulder, your mask still secured over your face, confident that the NYPD would find nothing that could trace back to you. Not any more than they already had, that is. “You’re not gonna tell them shit.” You laughed at him, rolling your eyes, “You think I wasn’t smart enough to hack into your stupid security cameras and duplicate the footage? I have hours of it, Fletcher. Hours of you torturing your wife, keeping her caged up in here like some sort of animal.” He didn’t respond, barely moved a muscle as his face paled. “You tell a single soul what happened here tonight, and I’ll send the footage off to every news station in New York. Got it?”

You didn’t need to wait for confirmation, aware that men like Fletcher would do anything to avoid bad press. He would make up a story, the same way all of them did. A mugging gone wrong or some stupid lie, anything to paint himself the victim and keep his wrongdoings away from the public. You looked forward, savoring the feeling of the cold Winter air kissing your skin as you let the door slam shut behind you, relaxation washing over you at the thought of finally getting to go home.

“Do I wanna know what you were doing in there?”

Well, so much for relaxation.

You glanced up, immediately noticing Spider-Boy crouched on the unit across from 813. “What are you even doing here?” You asked him, an exasperated groan following after. “Like, seriously, do you have a tracker on me or something? I’m gonna get you one of those little collars with a bell on it, the kind for cats, ya know? That way you at least can’t sneak up on me.”

Spider-Man narrowed his eyes at you, and your lip curled in response. You didn’t like the way the whites of his mask moved to match his expressions, finding it a bit unnerving. “What were you doing?” He asked again, ignoring your previous sarcastic remarks.

“Why don’t you go look for yourself?” You jutted your thumb over your shoulder, pointing towards the unit door where Fletcher’s groans of pain should still be faintly heard. “Cause I’m a bit tired from doing your job and all, so I’d rather skip the small talk tonight and head home.”

He scoffed, still perched atop the building, staring down at you. “Doing my job?”

You nodded. “Uh, yeah. Did I stutter or something?”

“How were you doing my job?” He rephrased his question, annoyed by your constant habit of avoidance.

“Do your own research for once, Spider-Kid.” You told him lazily, shaking your head as you began to continue your walk towards the exit gates of the StorageMart. “Maybe then you’ll realize we aren’t quite as different as you think.”

The nickname annoyed Peter, but he tried to shake it off, aware that it was just another way you tried to get under his skin and throw him off. He swiftly jumped from the building, landing directly in your path to keep you from leaving. Before his feet even touched the ground you already had a knife drawn, as if you had predicted his movement.

“While I commend you for wanting to stop me,” you spoke slowly, the tip of your blade pointed at his throat—it was an empty threat, as you knew that you would never strike what would most certainly be a fatal blow against him, although he didn’t know that and chose to keep a safe enough distance. “There’s a man in there that’s in desperate need of medical attention. I suggest you run off to be a hero and get him to a hospital.”

Peter’s eyes shifted towards the unit, his amplified hearing allowing him to hear Fletcher’s heartbeat from where he stood. You were right; and while he didn’t sound like he was on the verge of death, he needed a hospital, and a fight with you was one he wasn’t confident he would win—not quick enough, at least, to justify leaving a wounded man to suffer.

“We’re very different.” He promised you, taking a step back to show that he was backing down. To show that he was a hero, that he would prioritize a civilian's life over stroking his own ego by attempting to capture you right now. The two of you were nothing alike—Peter worked to protect this city, locking criminals up and fighting alongside the Avengers. And you? “You’re a villain.”

You snorted at his dramatic choice of words, still armed and prepared to strike if he made a move towards you. He didn’t, though, taking a few more steps backwards towards Fletcher’s unit.

“Villain’s such a harsh word.” You clicked your tongue, chastising him, making his blood boil as he had to use all the restraint in his body to prevent himself from going after you as you readied yourself to dart for the exit.

“I prefer anti-hero.”

tag list: @llovergirlll @hpchosen1 @vintageoldfashion

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bk-4-trash-fire · 4 months

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Robot creator part twoooooooo

Okokokok is I want to say this again for people who don't know

I am an artist, not a writer, so apologies if most of this series and the other one will make no sense and have bad grammar

But anyways enjoy

Plugging in the black rectangle onto you desk that you later found out was called a "tablet"

You were a scavenger of some sort

Taking anything that brought you interest, that or anything that can be taken apart

You and doc were always exchanging random things for both of y'all benefit

For you cuz what doc had looked cool

For doc cuz most of the random items you had could be used for future projects

But this table would be something only for you

That and the body pillow you found and later have hidden under you bed

Probably for the best no one sees it

You then hear a chime coming from the tablet

Seeing it come to life is incredible

You will soon witness a relic of the flesh beings work

Momo is gonna be sooooo jealous

And so you planned on showing all your friends your discovery

What's the worst that can happen?

Have the gang all together waiting for their (basically) little sibling to show off their new trinket

Even zbaltazar was there in a wheelchair clementine found for him

"so this will give us new knowledge of the flesh beings life before us?" You heard doc question

"exactly! This is said to have the ability to help entertain flesh beings and be able to communicate with other flesh beings!"

"You've made your point, now show us this cool new technology you're praising" momo chirped and giddily sat up to see this device

As you turned on the tablet you noticed it started to shake

It scared you enough to drop the thing onto the table

It started a small before it quickly started violently moving off the table from the shaking

Soon the screen began cracking with the light from the tablet becoming blinding

Soon the whole room was engulfed in the light

For a while genshin sat dormant for the MANY years their creator was gone

For awhile the people were filled with grief

Not knowing if this is some sort of punishment or if something horrible happened to their creator

Not like they could do anything

Their only proper way of communicating with them (mail) was getting no response

All the greatest minds in teyvat were at it for weeks making a machine powerful enough to bring back the creator

All it needed was a spark

Confirmation that the creator was somewhere alive.

Today was like any other albedo

Checking up on experiments

Checking on the machine

On look it working....

.....

Wait..

HOLY FUCK IT'S WORKING

Within moments albedo is sweating bullets and covering his ear from the sound of the gears

The sheer sound was probably enough for a person to go deaf

The ground shoke form the machine working it's magic

Finally after all this time

They had found them

Soon the machine comes to a dead stop

Soon a creeping silence as albedo makes his way to what is the door to let his god back to their world

What he expects is to see someone magnificent, unexplainable beauty.

But what greets him is 5 mechanical humanoids

That's it for now let me know how ya feel about this chapter :]

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #genshin self aware #sagau x reader #genshin x creator reader

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sofasoap · 9 months

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Little Kisses

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x F!Reader

Summary: The many different kisses of John Soap MacTavish

Warning : M rating. Slight talk of Smut. nightmare moments, slight angst follow by fluff.

Part 6 of Little Bear series Masterlist

John MacTavish, man who loves to show his emotion through kisses and hugs.

The shy tentative kiss you both shared as he bid you goodnight at the doorstep after the first date, “Can I kiss you, bonnie?” he whispered softly, asking for permission.

The gentle kiss on your forehead when you are wrapped up like a burrito in his embrace, half dozing off in the middle of a movie, before scooping you up into a bridal carry and moving you onto the cosy bed. “Bedtime for you, bonnie bear.” he chided as you mumbled in protest.

The playful butterfly kisses he peppers on your cheeks as he bear hug you, when you both finally reunited after months of deployment, “I miss you so much, my precious teddy bear. So so so much.” he expresses his yearning for you as he buried his face in your neck.

The linger kisses on your lip as you bid tearful farewell to each other, with the uncertainty of returning without injury or even making it back alive. “I will, I promise, within my power, to come back safe and alive to see you again, my love.” he exhaled out as he wiped beads of tears trickling down your face.

The heated kisses as both you are slightly tipsy, and snuck away from everyone else to the alleyway behind the pub, his hand sliding between your legs, eliciting a moan from you. “Sssshhhh keep it quiet bonnie.. You don’t want to get us caught, right??” He smirked.

The soft trailing kisses down your neck, holding you tight as he finally takes you for the first time, you gasp in pain once he is fully seated in you with his girthy length, stretching you like you never felt before. “It’s ok love.. Take all the time you need…” he murmurs words of comfort and reassurance as you try to relax yourself.

The comforting kisses on your temple as he pulls you in close, running his hand up and down your back, trying to calm you down from nightmares. “I am here bonnie. I am here with ya.. Still alive. See?” he comforts you as he pulls your hand onto his chest, feeling the beating heart.

The most memorable kisses of all, is when he proposed to you. Wind blows gently across the hills of the Scottish highland, he takes your hands, kneeling down on one knee.

“Bonnie bear, my soulmate. Please let me be yours forever, and I promise you, I will treasure you until the end of days.”

He’s been so good to you.

But what have you done for him?Do you deserve him? The doubt and hesitation slowly creeps up like a monster extending its tentacle, pulling you into shadow, into the whirlpool of negativity. “You have brought so much joy into my life.” his voice cracks and wavers as he feels your hand tenses. Closing his eyes as he leaned his cheek against your hand, “Every time I am out there, fighting to keep myself and my brothers-in-arms alive, you know what keeps me going?” Opening his eyes again, as he stares into your eyes, into your soul.

“Coming back to you. My home. My beautiful resting place. The only person that can bring me laughter and joy. The only person I ever say I love you to.”

How can you say no to those beautiful steel blue eyes? You just can’t. You love this man a lot. So much. It hurts just thinking about life without him. Him leaving you. Or you leaving him.

Biting on your lips, taking a step closer before you drop down to the ground on both of your knees, whispering out the response.

“John MacTavish. Let me be yours forever, if you let your heart be mine.”

He tilted his head back, trying hard to stop himself from trembling with excitement, before leaning forward, the taste of saltiness from the tears streaming down from both of your faces as he cups your cheeks and proceeds to give you a long loving kiss.

There will be many more kisses to come, for the rest of your life.

“Now you want to milk this highland cattle right here on this hill?”

“ OH my heaven Johnny please don’t ruin this romantic moment… “

For those wanting to know the highland cattle joke.. go here -->Pick up lines TagList

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@kaplerrr

@homicidal-slvt

@floral-force @okayyadriana @deadbranch @cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator

@random0lover @devcica @jynxmirage @nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @roosterr @brewed-pangolin

#johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x fem reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish imagine #johnny soap mactavish xf!reader #johnny soap mactavish x you #Little bear series #sofasoap writes #call of duty #johnny mactavish #john mactavish fluff #johnny soap mactavish x female!reader #johnny soap mactavish fluff #comfort fic

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y3nze1 · 2 months

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𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆, 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍 | c.5

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: I / II / III / IV / V / VI

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Tw! Mention of Blood, Cuts, Gun and Violence! Interact at your own risk, darlings! anyways, short continuation chapter. Fic based on This! happy readings my darlings!

You stood, staring by the balcony, scratching your forehead softly, sighing to yourself as you wonder what you got yourself into. you stared up the sky, watching the clouds clump by, surrounding the moon as it shimmers down you.

You stood at the balcony, staring up at the moon as it graced the clear night sky. You felt a sense of calm wash over you, like everything was okay for the moment. A gentle breeze blew past you and you took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh, crisp night air.

'If there's a prize for rotten judgement

I guess I've already won that

No man is worth the aggravation

That's ancient history, been there, done that!'

But despite the serene environment around you, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of uncertainty.

You began to wonder if you actually had feelings for Alastor or if it was just a passing fancy. The thought of possibly being in love with someone so powerful and intimidating both thrilled and scared you.

'Who'd'ya think you're kiddin'

He's the Earth and heaven to you

Try to keep it hidden

Honey, we can see right through you

Girl, ya can't conceal it

We know how ya feel and

Who you're thinking of'

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of your own emotions bearing down on you. You wished you had someone to talk to about this, someone who could help you sort out your feelings. But who could you turn to? And what would they think of you if they knew how you felt?

'No chance, no way

I won't say it, no, no'

Despite these thoughts, you couldn't help but smile as you watched the moon glow brighter against the dark sky. It was a reminder of the beauty and mystery of the world, and it made you feel a sense of wonder and possibility.

'It's too cliche

I won't say I'm in love'

"damn it!" you bang your fist on the railings, "damn you.." you run your hand through your hair, sighing softly. "damn me.." you turned around, your back facing railings slowly breaking down, sitting on the cold tile. "damn you daisy.." chuckling, you leaned back, sighing.

As you sat on the cold tile, you felt a sense of melancholy wash over you. The thoughts of Alastor and your feelings for him kept creeping into your mind, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of loss and confusion. You rested your head against the cool stone of the balcony, letting out a deep sigh.

'I thought my heart had learned its lesson

It feels so good when you start out

My head is screaming get a grip, girl

Unless you're dying to cry your heart out

Oh'

Despite the pain, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace. The cold tile felt soothing against your skin, and the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees below seemed to calm your racing thoughts.

'You keep on denying

Who you are and how you're feeling

Baby, we're not buying

Hon, we saw ya hit the ceiling

Face it like a grown-up

When ya gonna own up

That ya got, got, got it bad'

You close your eyes and let out a long, deep breath, trying to clear your mind of all the noise. For a moment, you felt like everything was going to be okay. That you could figure this out and come out on the other side.

As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, you felt a sense of serenity wash over you. It was as if the world around you was slowly coming back into focus, and you felt a sense of hope and possibility for the first time in what felt like forever.

'No chance, now way

I won't say it, no, no'

you clutched your chest, slowly feeling flustered at the thought of him, his smile, his soft voice, his cute goddamn laugh. you curled into a ball, internally screaming at you picture him in every way.

'Give up, give in

Check the grin you're in love'

You sat there, lost in your thoughts, thinking about Alastor's smile, his soft voice, his cute laugh. You felt a sense of love and desire wash over you, and you clutched your chest, feeling your heart racing.

'This scene won't play,

I won't say I'm in love'

You thought about all the times you had spent together and how he had made you feel. You remembered the way he looked at you, how he had always made you feel loved and special. You thought about the times he had supported you and been there for you, how he made you laugh and feel alive. you shook your head, cupping your cheeks as you formed a small smile.

'You're doin flips read our lips

You're in love

You're way off base

I won't say it

Get off my case

I won't say it

Girl, don't be proud

It's O.K. you're in love'

You realized that you were in love with Alastor, and it felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You felt a sense of peace wash over you, and you smiled to yourself, feeling happy and content for the first time in a long time.

'Oh

At least out loud,

I won't say I'm in love'

you stood up looking into the light of the city, blushing immensely as you stared into the busy streets. scratching your forehead once again, you decided to sleep the feeling off, you headed for your room, laying down on the soft mattress as you fiddled your hair softly. you closed your eyes, drifting off to sleep.

ೀ.ᐟ⭒๋࣭

"Alastor, my guy, come on.. d-don't be like that. we can work it out some way" the man cowered, backing away as he dragged his cut arm from the cold concrete, blood trailing on the ground as he grit his teeth in pain, eyes staring up at alastor with fear.

"I've been patient enough, pal. I don't like it when someone-" he swung his knife, cutting through the man's leg as the guy writhed in pain. "provokes.. me.."

Alastor's expression darkened as he watched the man writhe in pain. He held the knife firmly in his hand, not even blinking as he looked down at the man, still backed against the wall. "Now you see," he said coldly, letting his words hang in the air as he tilted his head slightly to the side. "That's what happens to people like you."

"you are given the privilege of.. someone's goodness" he kicked the man face, keeping the same sinister smile on. "you take that kindness.." he gripped the man's hair, smashing it onto the wall. "and. you. abuse. IT" with every word, he slammed, watching the blood trickle down the man's forehead.

"alastor.. p-please i-i told you I'd pay.. give me some more time.. i-i promise.." the man stuttered, "you said that six months ago." alastor grits his teeth, pulling out a gun from his pocket. pointing at the guy's forehead.

"send my regards to the devil." he laughed. the bullet bursting through the man's skull, parts of his brain spewing out as the blood drains out from his head, his body going limp, parts of his fingers still moving yet his eyes were in an upward gaze. skin pale like flour.

Alastor remained sat back in his chair, the light from the candles casting his shadow over the blood-stained walls. He lit another cigarette, taking a deep drag, his eyes on the limp body lying on the ground. He took another drag, then tossed the cigarette onto the body, watching as it smoldered and died out.

His eyes closed as he let out a deep breath, his head lowering from the weight of the world around him. For a moment, it felt as though time itself had frozen in place, and he was the only living thing in that moment.

After a few more minutes, he opened his eyes, and with a heavy sigh, he stood from his chair, walking towards the body and kneeling down next to it. He looked at the gun in his hand, and with a slight shake of his head, he placed it on the table beside the candles, the shadows cast by the dancing flames illuminating his features.

He closed his eyes and held his hands over the body, his palms slightly angled towards the light. he hummed. His voice is soft, yet powerful, holding a strange and alluring quality to it, as though it was the voice of the universe itself..

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin #1920s #alastor altruist #human!alastor

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clementine-writes-things · 7 months

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Hostage With Benefits

Summary: Y/n is taken captive by Hans Gruber and is easily seduced by his charm.

Contents: Smut with barely any plot, degradation, gun kink, spitting, choking, BDSM, bondage, power kink, humiliation, strong language.

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: sorry if it's formated weird or too short or something like that, I spent a long time writing it and it's 1 am right now, I'm so tired. I hope you guys enjoy it though!

Christmas music played throughout the 30th floor, the party was alive and the people were cheerful. Everyone was wearing their finest attire, men in their tuxedos and suits, women in their dresses and skirts. Today was Christmas Eve, and naturally, Mr. Takagi thought it would be a good idea to have a party at work. It served a double purpose, the party, as the company had just made a big sale.

It was typical of this company, to have parties for the workers, booze and drugs in almost everybody's system. However, your position in the company determined if you got to join in on the party as well. This is how y/n got stuck working during the celebration. She was an intern. Not that she cared about the party, she actually found it to be rather boring.

"Y/n, be a doll and get some more booze, would ya? You know where it is." Ellis said, his voice slurred.

Y/n grimaced, Ellis was a creep. He constantly did drugs at work, flirted with any woman who breathed, and worked his way into the company with his daddy's money.

"Yeah, sure." She said.

The girl stood up from behind her desk, where she had been sorting out files, stapling them, and then putting them in alphabetical order in the filing cabinets. Ellis had disappeared as soon as he had arrived, which was a relief for y/n, as his presence made her physically ill. Straightening out her skirt and tugging on the bottom of her button up shirt, she grabbed the walkman off her desk and hooked it onto her hip. Placing the headphones on her ears, she clicked the play button and smiled as 'Rebel Yell' started to play.

Y/n was fairly young, only 24, the youngest person in the building. Even though she didn't get treated like an actual member of the company, people still found her presence to be comforting. A young, optimistic and innocent aura was a huge contrast to the dark and dreary feeling of working in an office. She took pride in how friendly and approachable she was.

'Let's see…the drinks should be on the 15th floor, near the cafeteria.' She thought to herself.

Having to go through the crowd of people, y/n paused her Walkman and lowered the headphones. Although she didn't feel like participating in the party, it would be rude if she didn't say hi to a few people. Passing by a couple workers, glances were cast at her, obviously critiquing her outfit. She knew she wasn't going to be a part of the party, so why would she dress up? She still looked nice in her opinion. She wore a white, slightly cropped white shirt with short sleeves. It was a little too tight for her, but she didn't really think much of it. The skirt she had on was a soft teddy bear brown with two black buttons, some frilly white lace underneath the skirt, showing only slightly. White socks with small ruffles were on her feet as well as shiny black flats.

"Y/n, nice to see you! How's your night going?" Ms. Gennero asked.

"It's fine, Ms. Gennero. Thanks for asking. Sorry, I need to get some more drinks for the party." She excused herself.

Reaching the elevator, she felt relieved. The crowd of people around her was nearly enough to suffocate her. She pressed the button to the 15th floor, placing her Walkman back on her ears and continuing to listen to music. When the doors opened, she stepped inside, popping a piece of gum she had into her mouth as she waited to arrive at her destination.

Around 15 minutes later, a group of men had taken over the 30th floor. Guns in hand, ready to shoot and kill on command. The party that had once been so alive and happy, was now dismal. A man stepped forward, a small book in his hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Ladies and gentlemen!" He declared with a strong accent.

The room grew quiet, everyone afraid to make a sound.

"Due to the Nakatomi corporation's legacy of greed around the globe, it is about to be taught a lesson on real power. You will be witnesses." The man cleared his throat, looking down at his book.

"Now… Mr. Takagi? Where are you? Where is the man who used to be in charge around here?" An arrogant smile spread across the man's face.

He strolled through the crowd of people, glancing around at their faces occasionally as he looked through his book of notes. Everyone he saw had fear glazed over their eyes, hands shaking, knees trembling, brow sweating. As he came near the end of the crowd, he glanced down at another man.

"Enough!" A voice said from behind him.

The foreign man turned around, his movements fluid and calm.

"Ah, Mr. Takagi. How nice to meet you. I am Hans Gruber. Let's have a little chat.."

~skipping the interrogation scene cuz I don't want to write about takagi getting shot lol~

"See if you can dispose of this.." Hans gestured to Mr. Takagi's dead body.

"Karl, you go back up and watch the hostages. Theo, get to work on the vault. I shall like to look around the building in search of any stragglers."

Once assured that everyone had understood their tasks, Hans left the room.

Y/n had made it to the 15th floor quite some time ago, but she had decided to make herself a snack in the cafeteria. Her shoes were held in her left hand while a slice of the PB&J sandwich she had made was in her right hand. She had taken her shoes off because they were far too tight, no one would care if she didn't wear her shoes. Groaning, she opened the fridge, remembering that she was supposed to bring back more alcohol. She put her sandwich in her mouth, holding it in between her lips as she grabbed a bottle of vodka with her free hand.

'I hate this job.' She thought to herself as she walked out of the cafeteria.

As the doors swung open, she nearly fell over. It was difficult to open doors when your hands were full. Her Walkman still was over her ears and she started to dance a little when Dreams by Fleetwood Mac started to play. Her skirt flowed as she twirled around, the smoothness of her socks allowing her to slide across the floor. Turning around the corner of the hallway she noticed a man at the elevator. She waved at him - or - tried to as she had her hands full. The man looked surprised, but his facial expression softened as she approached him. He noticed she had her shoes in one hand, a bottle of vodka in the other, and a sandwich in her mouth. Y/n placed the bottle on the floor and grabbed her sandwich with her now free hand.

"Hi! I'm y/n! Sorry, I just got back from the cafeteria. Getting some more drinks for the party!" She stated, her voice a happy tune.

"Hans. Hans Gruber."

Hans put two and two together and concluded that y/n was referring to the Nakatomi Christmas party. This was perfect for him.

"I'm supposed to be at that Christmas party right now. Would you mind showing me the way?" He questioned.

Nodding, the girl bent down to pick up the bottle but was stopped by the man. He grabbed it.

"Allow me."

Smiling, the girl took a bite out of her sandwich and entered the elevator with Hans. Bending down, she pressed button 30 and started to balance back and forth on her heels. Hans was taken aback by her behavior, but found it slightly entertaining.

"I'm an intern! I don't really like my job, but I can't do much about it." She bluntly explained.

Hans just nodded in response.

The elevator doors opened and y/n walked out. As she looked over the room, everyone's heads turned to her. Confusion and fear spread across her face as she saw men with guns aiming at her. Turning around, she attempted to run but Hans had dropped the bottle of vodka, letting it shatter on the ground, and quickly grabbed her by the back of her neck.

"Not so fast, liebling…" He murmured against her ear.

"Y/n! Leave her alone!" Ms. Gennero shouted, accompanied by a few other protests.

Smirking, Hans looked at his men. He chuckled in y/n's ear as he pulled her closer to him.

"Well, if she's so important, perhaps I should keep her. Make sure you all behave, unless you want your poor intern to perish." He mocked, a fake frown on his face.

Everyone began to scream and wail, y/n accompanying them. Ignoring the cries, Hans dragged y/n to the office he had claimed. Shoving her down on the ground, he closed all of the blinds. Straightening his tie, he approached her slowly.

"Let me go!" She exclaimed.

Hans merely laughed at her pathetic excuse for a plea.

"Mmm, I'm afraid not. Taking a whole company hostage and leading a heist is a very stressful thing. I think some company would do me good, and you're quite entertaining." He mused.

Y/n, though not restrained, felt like she couldn't move. She was worried that if she moved even an inch, she would be killed instantly. Hans looked her over, raising an eyebrow once he realized how she was dressed.

"Rather slutty for a Christmas party, don't you think?" He teased.

She furrowed her eyebrows.

"At least I don't show up in a suit and tie to hold people hostage. What, you think you're a part of the mafia? Hoping to be in The Godfather Part III?"

Hans whipped his head around, lowering himself to her level and grabbing a fistful of her hair.

"I think you shall find it wise to mind..your..tongue. Just because I find you entertaining does not mean I won't hesitate to shoot you between the eyes. So I suggest you watch your attitude, young lady."

His words were like honey. Venomous honey that coated her body. The pressure of her hair being pulled and the intimidation that filled her while he was glaring at her sent shivers through her spine. Hans noticed this and scoffed. He tugged at her scalp once more, harshly. A soft anguished moan left her throat. Hans stood up.

"Your outfit matches your mind. Perverted and whorish."

Leaning back against the desk, hands gripping both sides, he tilted his head at her.

Raising his hand, he used his finger to gesture for her to come to him. Reluctantly and cautiously, she obeyed. Standing directly in front of him, she felt her knees get weak. He brought his hand to her face, using his thumb to wipe off jelly from the corner of her lip. Sticking his thumb in his mouth, he sucked the jelly off. Her heart raced, baffled at how attractive she found the man in front of her to be. Smirking, he grabbed a chair and put it next to the chair behind the desk. He took his seat in the office chair.

Y/n backed up slowly. Hans rolled his eyes.

"Sit down!" He roughly demanded.

Y/n scurried over next to him, frightened by his tone of voice. Sitting in the chair, she started to button up more of her shirt, realizing she was showing way too much. Hans brought up a hand to stop hers.

"Obviously you were more than comfortable to dress so promiscuous today, so I don't expect you to change anything now."

Hans slowly removed his hand from over hers, making sure to run his thumb over her nipple as he did so. Y/n's thighs clenched together and she bit her lip. Smirking, the man removed his hand completely and grabbed his radio.

"Theo, process on the vault."

"Halfway there."

"Good. Stay on schedule. If anyone needs me, radio in. I do not want to be bothered."

With that, he put the radio away. Slowly, he turned towards y/n, his hand gripping his pistol on the desk.

"Tell me, dear y/n, are you afraid?"

She nodded.

"I see. Do you wish you weren't here? That I wasn't here?"

She nodded again.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at her thighs. On the seat, he could see a shimmering wetness. Chuckling, he used the tip of his pistol to lift up her skirt, revealing her soaked panties.

"Mmm, I think you're lying to yourself my dear."

A blush spread across her face as she attempted to stand up, ready to march out the door. But a strong hand on her shoulder forced her back down.

"Sit. Down. Do not make me tell you again." His voice was stern.

As she sat back down, Hans pulled her chair closer to his. A smirk was plastered across his face and a mischievous glint lingered in his eyes. Gently, he placed his large hand on her thigh, rubbing the inner part with his thumb.

"I find you fun, liebling. You're very entertaining to watch."

Y/n squirmed in her seat, gripping the sides of it firmly. The feeling of his hand on her thigh drove her crazy in a way that made her feel dirty. Hans noticed this.

"Do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is?" He questioned.

She nodded.

"I-Its when a hostage or a victim of kidnapping grows dependent on their kidnapper. Or form a bond."

He nodded.

"Do you feel a bond with me, my dear? Are you dependent on me?"

Y/n grimaced, shaking her head. Though, secretly, she was thinking about him in ways that she shouldn't speak out loud. Hans smirked, moving his hand up her thigh, thumb tracing her panty line. Her breath hitched and she let out a small yelp.

"Say yes. Say yes and I'll make you feel the best you'll ever feel in your life." He said lowly, sincerity lined his tone.

Somehow, y/n believed him. This man looked like he could fuck you for a day straight and not get tired or even break a sweat. He looked like a Greek god chiseled in marble, like a work of art. She thought about this for a moment, maybe, letting him have sex with her would guarantee that she would live. It was worth a shot. And, as a plus, she'd be getting amazing sex.

She nodded slowly. Hans rolled his eyes and gripped her chin harshly.

"Words. Use them while you still have the ability to make coherent sentences." He hinted at what was to come.

"Yes." It came out like a gasp.

Without another word, Hans grabbed the girl by the bottom of her thighs, lifting her up and placing her on his lap. His raging hard-on was noticeable in this position, as y/n felt it poking underneath her skirt. Hans chuckled at her reaction, a gasp leaving her mouth.

"Tell me, young lady, have you ever been fucked before?"

"Yes. Only once, but it wasn't that good.." She answered.

Hans smirked, trailing his thumb up her thigh and planting his thumb over her clothes clit. Y/n moaned softly, gripping the sides of chair.

"So, you're an innocent young lady who just chooses to dress like a whore? Why is that? Do you crave attention? Or, maybe you just enjoy it."

His words caused her core to gush. She had never been talked to like this before, and she found it oddly hot. The way his rough hands against her skin felt, along with his rough words. It was a sinful combination.

"Answer me." He growled, bringing his hand up to her throat.

She coughed, clawing at his hand.

"Y-Yes, I want the attention!" She sputtered.

Releasing his grip from her throat, he gave her face a light slap.

"Don't worry, you'll get lots of it. Let's just hope you can handle it."

In one swift movement, Hans stood up and placed y/n on the desk, pushing her skirt up slightly. He let out a low moan as he saw how soaked her panties were. With his left hand, he pushed her down so her back was on the desk and her legs were hanging off. Yanking her panties to the side, he licked his lips at the sight of her bare center. He roughly pressed his thumb against her clit. A shrill whimper left her throat and Hans took pleasure in the noise.

"Who knew you Americans were so kinky? Finding the idea of being fucked by your kidnapper hot. Or, is that just your own twisted fantasy?" He mocked.

As she was about to speak, he shoved two fingers inside her. He curled them as soon as he got knuckles deep. Her back arched and he used his left hand to slam her back down, groping her left breast.

"I'm getting you nice and ready for me. If I didn't prepare you, then you would suffer greatly. And that wouldn't be fun for either of us-"

He leaned down to her ear, nibbling on her neck.

"-because I love hearing you moan in pleasure."

Y/n, as if commanded, let out a pathetic moan. The feeling of his fingers inside of her flooding her mind with lust. She was lost in the sea, and only he could bring her back.

"Fuck, yeah, just like that…"

Hastily, he started to undo his belt, holding it in his hands when he finished. He let his pants fall to the floor and grabbed her hips. Flipping her over, he forced her to lay on her stomach across the desk. Y/n's ass was on full display to him underneath her skirt. Out of nowhere, a sharp sting landed on her ass and she let out a groan in pain.

"Oh, the dirty whore likes that too?"

He landed another firm whack against her cheeks, which were surely red by now. Leaning down, he planted kisses on the bare skin, biting down on it too.

"Fuck! H-Hans!" She moaned.

The feeling of leather wrapped around her throat, and she suddenly felt herself being pulled back, her back arched. Hans had wrapped the belt around her neck, almost like a leash. It was humiliating to say the least, but that made it all the more hot.

"You shall call me Mr. Gruber, is that clear? Do you call all of your superiors by their first name?" He asked.

She scoffed.

"You're not my superior."

Once again, she was flipped over. Now, she lay on her back, Hans hovering directly over her. His tie hung loose and his eyes were narrowed. Leaning down, he planted a soft kiss against her lips. His tongue slid in her mouth, claiming it as his own. As they pulled apart, a string of saliva connected between them.

"In this room, I am."

Quickly, he clamped his hand down on her mouth as he roughly pushed himself inside her. Y/n's eyes widened and she clawed at his back. The feeling of being stretched out was so sudden and raw that she couldn't handle it. Angrily, Hans roughly pulled out and pushed all the way back in.

"This suit is worth more than your education, I suggest you unhand it you filthy whore." He spat.

Afraid to disobey, she did as she was told. Instead, she wrapped her hands around his neck. Smirking, Hans unbuttoned her shirt slowly while keeping himself still inside of her, taunting her. He was surprised to see she had no bra on. He bent down and licked a stripe from her navel all the way to her collarbone. Nipping at it gently, he whispered in her ear.

"Now, let's see how much you can take."

Without another word, he began to fuck up into her at an animalistic speed. Moans tried to leave her throat, but she choked on her own words. Ecstasy and lust clouded her senses, and all she could think about was him. Him and his dick. Her walls clenched around him as he spit on her chest, as if he was telling her that she was disgusting for this. And, in a way, she was. But she didn't care. For this was the best sex she had ever had. Hans brought his hand down, prying her jaw open and shoved two fingers in her mouth. She began to suck on them, swirling her tongue around them. Hans moaned at the sight, his movements becoming more harsh.

"So pathetic, letting me fuck you. I could kill you right now." He grinned, bringing his gun up and pushing it against her head.

Y/n's heart raced, fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins. She felt herself getting closer to her release, and she whimpered around his fingers, signaling this. Placing his gun down, he grabbed both of her hips and raised them slightly, giving him a better angle. Her hands dangled off the desk and flailed around aimlessly as he continued her merciless onslaught on her cunt. His head flew back as he felt himself get close. Quickly he pulled out and grabbed her hair, yanking her towards him. Without warning, he turned her around, so her head was hanging off the desk and shoved his dick deep down her throat. As he did this, he leaned over and continued to fuck her with his fingers. Not even a few seconds later, y/n felt her orgasm wash over her and she arched her back as her arousal coated Hans hand and arm. Seeing this sight pushed him to his limit, and his cum filled up y/n's mouth. Pulling out, he sat back in the chair, watching as y/n breathed heavily. Her mouth full of his cum, trickling down her face and onto the carpet, her tits perked up from the cold chill in the building, and her legs dripping with her own arousal.

"Merry Christmas to me…" He chuckled to himself.

"I've had better… Mr. Gruber.." she smirked, jokingly.

"Oh? Then let's go for round two."

#writers #fanfic writer #hans gruber #die hard #alan rickman #smut

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