something happening on a mission, something personal that has soap spiralling; panic and rage making him reckless, thoughtless, and ghost has to draw the line
“you’re compromised johnny; you know what that means?”
“you’re not pulling me out,” soap immediately snarls. he turns on him and ghost barely recognises him; venomous fear turning his eyes to unyielding ice. "you're not sidelining me; i need to be in this-!"
but ghost has never been afraid of venom; spat or dripped straight from bared fangs.
he snakes out a hand grip the back of his neck, jerking him in a rough shake. "if you can't think, you can't be a soldier," he growls and he flinches like he's been struck.
his lips quiver as they twist in a sneer and he wrenches, trying to free himself of his hold.
ghost doesn't let him.
"it means you give your body to me because your head ain't fucking attached to it anymore."
soap stills, body trembling beneath his hand as he sucks in shaking breaths.
he tightens his grip, pulling him closer and digs his forehead hard into his. “it means you give yourself to me so i can have the weapon that you are and use you the way you're meant to be used."
the ice in soap's eyes fractures.
ghost’s voice drops to a whisper, spoken only to johnny, not this facade of vengeance and pain, and wills it to reach him through the glaciers.
“so i can keep you safe ‘til it’s done and i can bring you back.”
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. . . SAVE A HORSE, GO ON A RIDE WITH THE COWBOY! featuring boothill!
notes! . . . y'know the phrase, “save a horse, ride the cowboy”? well, I decided to-do something about it with boothill... except it's sfw and more like “save a horse, ride with the cowboy” cuz i dont do nsfw here >:/. god give me acceptance for how boothill is so ooc here- 😭😭 idnk how to write his character properly, and does he even have a horse?? I don't remember seeing a horse when his character and banner got leaked, so let's just pretend he does have one for the sake of K'hailreigh for this plot. 💀
imagine returning the horse boothill had been searching for all day after it got the chance to escape through the tall fences the moment they were opened, his eyes widen at the sight of his companion with you guiding alongside it. normally, his horse wouldn't follow after someone else's orders other than him... and it behaves pretty feisty and rough with people who isn't him.
boothill is relieved to see that his trusty horse hadn't been injured, briefly thanking you as he goes over to fuss over his stallion. you can't help your gaze wandering and examining his figure, in awe of the metallic and cyborg parts of the cowboy in front of you. sure you might've seen people having artificial and metal parts attached to them, but this man right here just plainly looks like a robot if it weren't for his humanly head.
boothill notices you eyeing every inch of him, glancing from the lasso that hangs at his hips to the pistols to his arms and to his legs. he glares a wolfishly smile at you, baring the shark-like teeth that you gaze in short surprise at, and asks in a teasingly tone, “like what you see, darlin'?”, observing how you blink owlishly at him. but then, he's becomes sort of surprised when you nod your head and confirm that—yes, you like his appearance and how the color scheme matches altogether, while indirectly commenting how he's a good-looking cowboy.
boothill, after his turn of blinking at you, grins and narrows his eyes with an intrigued look in them; amused by you and how you don't seem in the slightest.. nervous or terrified in his presence. you perked the cyborg's interest.
finishing the small talk with the man, you mention that you'll be needing to go somewhere for an errand and boothill takes the opportunity to offer a ride there on his horse—as a thanks for retrieving his horse, taking in your surprised expression with a grin as he ends the sentence with a “darlin'”. he insists, even if you refuse, so you decide that it'll be quicker to go in a horse ride with the cowboy than rather walking by foot as you were given no other choice.
with boothill's assistance, you were boosted onto the horse and instructed by him to hold on as he looks back at you, flashing a toothy grin and a finger tilting his hat just slightly for a short moment before you and him rode off towards where you were needed to be at with his horse. startled by the increasing speed his horse was going, you instinctively grasp onto the cyborg cowboy's built body in order to not fall off during the ride accidentally—boothill grins at your expression, his laughter going with the wind, “better hol' on tight for now, sweetheart. this'll be a rough ride! i'll get ya to where yer headin' in no time!”
© thedemises 2024. all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, or claim as your own. ━━ word count: 508.
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Kaeya had always been an efficient and hard-working individual (he had to be to support Diluc in the background as his brother rose thru the ranks after all).
He has so much free time because he completes all his work way ahead of schedule. And if he still has enough time, he adds more to the workload in secret.
And once all of that was done and over with, he makes time for everyone. He has to. He feels as if every moment has to be given to someone else.
No one knows how he does it. No one has to know.
Every mission has a dozen strategies in line, and every battle plan is made with efficiency in mind. His perfect record will not be tarnished. He can't risk it (even if it baffles others that he would willingly activate a ruin guard just to prevent a failed mission. Jean disagrees with his methods, but Kaeya can say that the results say otherwise)
He needs to be quick.
Efficient.
Perfect.
And so he comes and goes like the wind.
Kaeya values time because he knew every second counted. He can't just stand there as if he were frozen. Time could run out in an instant.
Kaeya had only been late once his entire life.
He'd rather he never be late ever again.
It took one day of being of being imperfect for everything to fall apart. On that tragic day...had he gotten there on time... then maybe...
.
.
.
" Come on, let's get moving, traveler. We're not frozen in place after all. " Kaeya teasingly says. He stiffles a giggle at the traveler's exhasperated sigh.
"Yeah yeah, we've heard enough of you calling us a slacker. Can't you be a bit more patient?" Paimon whines at him.
Kaeya snorts, but acquiesces, hiding the shaking of his hands at the thought of being idle.
He imagines hearing a clock ticking.
Kaeya knows that that is his own problem. He tries his hardest to relax as he waits for the traveler to finish whatever they're making on the alchemy table because, seriously, it is supposed to be a relaxing day. There's nothing major going on, and his schedule is once again empty as intended. What's the hurry?
Kaeya taps his foot on the ground as he waits. He wishes he could take his own damn advice when he tells others to relax.
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I've been writing my dissertation like that gif of the cat frantically slamming a keyboard (you know the one) but it's got me thinking about professor Bucky and how he might incentivise you to get your work done for his class 😏
"You're not getting an extension. Don't even think about e-mailing me for one." The hardest part of dating your lecturer isn't actually the sneaking around; it's that he's a hell of a lot tougher on you than the rest of the class.
"But Bucky I-" You begin but he cuts you off and you know by the look on his face that there's no point pressing it.
"No. You're more than capable and you've got plenty of time to get it done. You don't need an extension, you need to apply yourself."
God, he's annoying. You know you can do it, you never said you couldn't. You just don't want to. There's a massive difference.
He pulls his copy of the required reading out of his bag, setting it on the desk beside your laptop and it takes everything in you not to bury your head in your hands.
"There. I've helped you enough." He nods towards the textbook but when you don't move, he flicks through the pages with a sigh, leaving it open at the chapter you know you should start with.
You sit there for another few seconds in a foul mood, mentally preparing yourself to sit here for the next few hours.
"How about I help you? I get the impression you need an incentive." He knows you too well, there's nothing more motivating than a little treat. "You have 12,000 words to write. For every 1,000 you write this week, I'll give you an orgasm."
Maybe you should complain about his assignments more often.
"Deal." Hell, if you'd known this was coming, you'd have started ages ago.
"Good girl." He laughs, amused at the rate at which your fingers begin to dance over the keyboard.
Getting started isn't too hard. You type out a quick plan of your chapters, dropping in the sources you know you'll need before starting your introduction and with your focus on your work, you hardly notice Bucky sinking to his knees under the desk.
You feel his warm, open mouthed kisses trailing up your thighs under your skirt and his soft groans drag your attention away from the laptop.
"Don't stop working." He insists, licking your sex through your cotton underwear, letting you enjoy the delicious friction on your cunt. "You're almost at the first thousand and it reads well so far." You feel his hot breath against the now wet cotton while one of your hands falls to tug his hair.
"If you stop typing, I stop licking." He threatens, pulling your panties to the side, gliding his tongue against your skin and groaning at the taste of your arousal.
You have just over 200 words until you reach your first thousand and it should be so easy but it becomes even harder when he sinks two fingers into you and you're able to hear how wet you are already.
His lips engulf your clit, sucking gently while flicking his tongue in vertical strokes in time with his fingers curling inside you. "Such a smart girl. I'm so proud of you." He hums before giving you a few broad strokes with a flat tongue.
He knows what his praise does to you and with your thighs clamped around his head, you fly your way through a few hundred more words. He chuckles when you proudly announce you reached a thousand but you don't stop typing at the same frantic pace.
"Sweetheart, if you want to get all 12,000 done this evening, I'll sit here as long as it takes." He smiles against your skin before giving you everything he knows you need. His tongue flicks quickly over your clit and his fingertips rub against the soft, spongy spot inside you and in no time you're gushing against his face, gripping his hair and riding your high out on his waiting tongue.
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