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bunny-lily · 3 months

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Satoru, who...

Did you ask for more fluff? I did, ehe~

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

CW: pure fluff, just fluff, no angst, only happiness | proposal, marriage, pregnancy, husband!Gojo, dad!Gojo, soft!Gojo, categorically fucking whipped Satoru, domesticity, kinda slice-of-life, mildly suggestive at the end

The starstruck boy, Gojo Satoru, who is utterly obsessed with you in every way possible.

AN: while I’m in the middle of writing an absurdly long fic, I wanted to post some shorter stuff to 1) keep my hands loose and brain active/busy, and 2) post something while I’m working on the fic to come. I won’t post much about it rn because I want to actually finish it first and not make any promises, so enjoy a lil fluff in the meantime <3 just something short and sweet

WC: 3k

Satoru, who is smitten with you from the very moment he first lays eyes on you. Sure, he's had infatuations before, but they were short-lived and typically lasted no longer than a week. A quick fascination, then poof. You, on the other hand – you are different.

And it is plain to see for pretty much everyone. He is normally cocky and outgoing, even during the little fads he’s had, he never let down his façade of bravado. You, though? You melt all his walls until he’s a goopy puddle of a blushing, giggling school girl.

He is whipped, almost to an annoying point. He rambles off Suguru's and Shoko's ears enough times for them to know when he’s about to start singing your praises and avoid him, or distract him somehow (which is a monumental task when his ditzy head is full only of thoughts of you).

Even so, they are conflictingly bewildered and happy for their friend. For him to have found someone that he is interested in for longer than a week – let alone several months, now – is a riveting change of pace. He seems so genuinely delighted any time you two interact, bubbly, dreamy sighs leaving him as hearts dance in his eyes.

He has fallen for you bad.

Satoru, who’s a stuttering disaster when he tries to ask you out on a date, and damn near collapses in relief when you’re able to decipher what the hell he’s going on about and agree to go to the new café that opened up near campus with him.

One date turns into two, then three, then a dozen more that become routine for you. You meet up after classes let out, then head to the café side by side. Or, if one is running late, you have each other’s orders memorized. You even go the extra mile and order him a sweet he hasn’t tried yet to surprise him with when he bursts into the establishment, panting like he ran a marathon. He might as well have, he booked it for the café as soon as he was free, dying to see you.

Satoru, who is somehow in even more shambles when he gets the nerve to ask you to go steady with him, despite the two of you being borderline boyfriend and girlfriend by now. He’s jittery, sweaty, downright vibrating with tense energy when he brings you to the sakura tree near the back of school that you two had laid claim on. Oh, and when you say yes? He’s certain he’s died and gone to heaven. Nothing can explain how an angel like you decided to grace him with your existence as is, let alone love him – even while you called him an idiot and said you thought you two were already dating.

Satoru, who was already protective over you when you first met, dials it to eleven after you agree to being his girlfriend. Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive, could inspire fear and respect simply by being in the room with his confident and brash nature, completely relaxed and faithful in his skill. But if, gods forbid, something happens to you? Gone is that cocksure attitude. Gone are the coy smirks and passive-aggressive taunting meant to rile others up. Gone is everything but his one track mind that focuses solely on two tasks: protecting you, and destroying whatever harmed you.

Satoru, who spoons you to his chest and watches ASMR, random videos, or movies on your phone with you 'til you both fall asleep. It became routine shortly after you began officially dating. You'll climb into bed first and decide what you want to watch while he finishes his nightly regimen, then he'll slip under the blankets and pull your back flush against his front, prop his chin atop your head, slide a thigh between your legs, and off to cozy dreamland you two go as whatever you choose acts as white noise.

It brings him an immense amount of comfort, and though he doesn't need as much sleep as normal folks, he'll refuse to leave bed until you're awake (with the exception of any needs he might have to take care of that will only see him away for a couple minutes at most before he’s cradling you in his protective hold again).

Satoru, who salts and peppers your face with endless, ticklish kisses to wake you up, saving the best kiss for when your sleepy, pretty little eyes open: right on your lips. He always wakes up before you do, and spends hours watching your blissful, precious face as you snooze, content and relaxed like a cat with full trust in its human. The comparison always makes him smile, because he, truthfully, envisions you both as being cats all the time. Lazy ones that cuddle in the sun, your smaller form using his ridiculously fluffy and larger one as a pillow-slash-blanket. His tail twined with yours, your ears twitching as he grooms you with kitten licks, ah, the dream.

Satoru, who wants to slap a ring on your finger the very moment he can. You two spend so many days and weeks raving about your imaginary wedding that he so desperately wants to be real, setting up plans, picking out what you would want for decor, scrolling through forum boards for ideas on a wedding dress for you. He is practically more excited at the prospect of getting married than you are, eager to help in every step of the process and more. 'Let me handle all the hard stuff, baby,' he nearly begs.

He won’t tell you the cost of anything, and insists you go all out. Get the dress you want, don't you dare look at the price tag. Choose the perfect venue, he doesn't care if it's in Japan or fucking Dubai, he'll handle paying for everyone's travel and hotel needs on top of the whole wedding. Only the absolute best for you, nothing less, everything more.

Satoru, who is a train wreck of nervous excitement, anxious anticipation, and giddy trepidation when the day comes for him to propose. He takes you to the perfect location – up a short and easy hiking trail that leads to a cliffside with the most magnificent view of the ocean and setting sun. You think it's just a sweet date trip, until you see the path of tea candles guiding you to a romantically set up picnic blanket, a basket resting atop it, waiting to be opened.

When you turn around to express your shock and confusion, you find Satoru on one knee, looking up at you as if you are the most gorgeous and divine creature to ever exist. He's confident and boisterous, as always, as he plays out his little speech about how much he adores you and wants to keep you by his side, forever and ever, but he's a shaking trash fire inside. A shivering little dog that's relieved he didn't stutter or screw up the speech he practiced a hundred times over and then some.

Satoru, who's thanking every god to ever possibly reside above (and even below) when you throw your arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as a flood of yeses pours out of you, slurred as you ramble through your tears and tell him you love him, how happy you are, and a plethora of other things that make him genuinely the most elated person to ever live.

Satoru, who slides the brilliant engagement ring he had custom made for you onto your finger; smooth, with an inset blue diamond that shares the same shade as his eyes, nestled in with a dozen tinier crystals in vine-like spirals flowing outward from the center. Swarovski, of course. He made sure that it was all flush with the platinum to ensure it wouldn't snag on anything.

He was practically breathing down the jeweler's neck during the entire process, needing to guarantee it’s positively perfect for you. And, when he sees the glimmering jewelry cozy on your finger, the evidence of your bond and the next step in your journey to unite as one, he knows he made all the right choices.

Satoru, who only uses the finest material for your matching wedding bands, and has the insides of both engraved with each other's names. Yours in his, his in yours. He has the same jeweler as before (poor guy) design them to have two stripes of platinum within the gold of your rings, delicate and stunning for himself and his wife.

Satoru, who's jubilant and so incredibly ecstatic that you're now his wife that he can't help but tell everyone he knows, everyday, multiple times a day, even those that were at the wedding. He just can't get over it. You're his wife, the girl he's been crushing on since highschool, the girl he swore to make his, and to devote himself to. It feels like an incredible dream, and he worriedly pinches himself from time to time to make sure it's real.

He did it. He married you, and now you carry his name in yours, in your wedding band, everywhere he could put it to subtly (not really) show you off as the unquestionably precious treasure you are, his wife, and how overjoyed he is that he managed to catch you and keep you.

Satoru, who forgets how to function when you hold up a pair of white and pink sticks on his birthday, from different brands, both showing positive symbols. You. You're pregnant. With his baby. He swears his brain short-circuits because one minute, he's staring at you like you'd grown a second head, and the next, he has you wrapped up in his arms as he showers your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw, lips, neck, ears, anywhere he can reach, with kisses.

He's a babbling, sniffly mess as he practically crushes you to his chest and coos and preens and weeps with elation. He reveres you like a deity and he’s your loyal and pathetic servant who was blessed beyond measure that you decided to give him the gift of life. He's going to be a father, and it's all because of you.

Satoru, who completely spoils the living hell out of you during your pregnancy (as if he hadn't already been), bending backwards for you for everything. Weird cravings? He's on it. Swollen ankles and nausea? He's rushing to the store for medicine, then rubbing your feet to ease the ache. Insatiable horniness? He's your slave for you to use for your pleasure. Hormones swinging wildly back and forth? He's there with a box of tissues and his firm chest for you to beat on when you feel like you're going crazy. It's his fault you're pregnant, after all. You're doing the hard work of not just carrying his child, but of nurturing it, growing it, letting it take from you to develop strong and healthy. Of course he's going to take care of you.

Satoru, who refuses to let you do any work. You're on indefinite parental leave. From the moment you show him those positive tests, he sits your pretty ass down on the couch and tells you firmly that your only job now is to help your baby develop. He'll take care of everything else, don't even think about lifting a finger.

Satoru, who's there at every appointment with you, clutching your hand tightly as you talk to your doctor about everything you need to know. And when you have your first ultrasound, and see your fetus together for the very first time, he's crying right alongside you.

Satoru, who spent meticulous hours packing a duffel bag with everything you'll both need for when it comes time for you to go into labor. Spare changes of clothes, plenty of water, blankets to keep you warm, a couple pillows, anything and everything. He refuses to go in unprepared. As soon as it's all packed and ready to go by the 8 month mark of your pregnancy, it's in the backseat of the car. The baby car seat is in the trunk of the sleek and top-of-the-line SUV he purchased specifically for your soon-to-be family. He doesn't care that it's taking up space, or that it’s too early, he refuses to go in unprepared.

Satoru, who immediately ditches work the very instant your water breaks. Who gives a fuck if he's in the middle of something important, nothing takes precedence over you and the incoming birth of your infant. He's breaking several driving laws to get you to the hospital, but neither of you care. Not when you're panting in the passenger seat, white-knuckling the grab handle with a palm pressed to your stomach, grunting and crying out in pain any time you have a contraction. It's a miracle he doesn't get pulled over, and he's incredibly thankful (and proud of himself) for thinking of calling the hospital ahead of time so that they're ready for you.

Satoru, whose entire world becomes a blur from the second you reach the hospital, to the second you're crushing his hand in your grip, screaming as you fight to bring his baby into the world. He's letting you yell at him and blame him for the pain you're in, easily accepting and agreeing because it is his fault.

But while your shaking sobs and shrieks of agony wound his heart beyond any possible measure, he also can't help his elation at knowing it's time, all the waiting has been worth it, every minute spent catering to your every need, want, and desire. He'll do it indefinitely, wait on you hand and foot for the rest of his life, treat you like a queen, because you deserve it and so much more.

Satoru, who's shocked by how well he's holding up when the nurse puts the wrapped up, pudgy little newborn in his arms, gazing down at the tiny being. His tiny being, your tiny being, the fragile and priceless life you both created. Looking down at his kin, his reason for being, he knows he'd do anything and everything to protect you and your child.

Satoru, who sees you, a disheveled and tired disaster, with your hair all tangled, frizzy, and astray, strands stuck to your sweaty skin, your body slack in relief as the hardest part is finally over, watching your husband hold your baby, and he thinks you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.

You look like you’ve been dragged through hell; your legs are sticky with residue blood, amniotic fluid, placenta, and whatever else that needs to be cleaned off (though your legs are covered with a few layers of blankets to keep you toasty warm while you recover from labor), your face is a little pale and sallow, you're barely clinging to consciousness, and he's marveling at how he's never seen anything or anyone as utterly blest and sacred as you.

A goddess amongst men, the only one the strongest man in the world would ever willingly bow down to without you even needing to ask.

Satoru, who helps place your baby on your chest, the nurse having opened the blanket for skin-to-skin contact as you feed it, and finally lets himself release all his pent up emotions of raw, unfiltered joy. Every cell, every fiber, every atom in him is dancing in overwhelming happiness. He'd do it all over, again and again, as many times as you'd let him, if it means he gets to see you this blissful and tranquil. The glow of maternity suits you like no other, even in all your unkempt and chaotic glory.

Satoru, who can't believe he's a dad. He goes above and beyond, insisting he takes care of the baby at night so you can sleep – he doesn't need as much rest as others do, after all. He murmurs to his newborn about how much he cherishes and adores you, how much you mean to him, how you're the best wife and mommy a man could ever ask for and more. He reads the kiddo bedtime stories to help it sleep, feeds it, changes it, whatever it is that is needed, he's there and doing it.

On top of that, he continues to be your doting, devoted, caring husband. He makes sure you're taking your vitamins, takes you to all your postpartum appointments, aids you through your subsequent depression, all of it. He's sworn himself to you for life, not just in this timeline and universe, but in any and every single one of them.

He made and said his vows with purpose and conviction. He meant every word, and upholds them like his life depends on it. Because, in his mind, it does.

Satoru, who is patient with you, and firmly commands you to not push yourself to do things you can't do while you're still in recovery. He doesn't care if he has to wait months or even years for you to be ready to lay with him again, he'll wait it out. He might not be a patient man, but for you, he'd wait until all the stars die.

Oh, but you, darling little minx that you are, do your best to take care of him, too. Even when he urges you to rest, or not worry about it, or anything other arguments he might have against it, you tend to him in whatever way you can. Touching, sucking, rough and heavy petting, whatever it takes. You refuse to leave him alone to suffer through months and months of dryness with no relief save for his hand and the toy you surprised him with to help take the edge off.

Satoru, who can't be more grateful to you. You're more than his wildest dreams, the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect person as a whole in the entirety of the universe. He really can't help boasting about being the Chosen One, because he really is, if the cosmos decided to gift him with you.

Satoru, who swears to take care of you for the rest of your lives, and does well on his promise.

Satoru, who fights for the sake of you and your kin alone. He refuses to leave you in any way, shape, or form. He refuses to let the world be a danger to any of you. He refuses to have anything happen to his family. Nothing will tear you apart, not now, not ever.

Satoru, who loves you more than the sun, the moon, and all the stars combined.

—-—-•(-•ʚɞ•-)•—-—-

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#gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #fluff #chimera-writes #dad!gojo #husband!gojo

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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

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Normal People Things (dark!141 x fem!Reader)

Soap drags you to his place to meet with his lieutenant. It goes as smoothly as you can imagine. AO3 CW and tags: Non-con, poly, group sex, size kink, daddy kink, power imbalance, kidnapping, dead dove do not eat, forced orgasms, praise, humiliation

The ride is short – shorter than you anticipated. You don’t know if you wanted it to be longer if you needed more time to sort out the thoughts flying in your head – you feel numb, empty, hollow, all of those stupid words for stupid expressions because nothing can quite describe the dread settling in your stomach.

Your throat burns, your makeup is ruined, you are shaking like a kitten left under a rain – you listen to some light music, something you could hear in the car of a guy you’d probably be interested in. Classic rock, some melodic sensations, if you squint and cover your mouth, you can almost relax and stop the desire to puke. You felt mostly sober when the Scot was pushing his dick in your mouth, the horror of the situation forcing your mind to clear up a little – but now it’s foggy again, blurry and messy every time you open your eyes just to see the same man on the front seat, smiling every time he catches you looking at him through the mirror.

He broke your phone, obviously – snatched it from your hands and broke it in two with horrifying ease. He kissed you after this, cold lips on your forehead. You were crying, or so you think – you were crying this whole ordeal, your face feeling wet and burning as he was fucking laughing, trying to get you to talk to him. You wouldn’t, even if your throat weren’t hoarse and hurting from the fucking he gave you.

“Want to grab somethin’ to eat, bonnie? I know a bloody lovely place, eh?”

You didn’t respond, the thought of taking something from a guy who eligibly kidnapped you made you sick. Besides, it’s not like food will do you any good – your stomach is spinning from a combination of fear and alcohol, and even though you’d love to ruin this pretty car, you don’t want to evocate even more negative feelings from its owner. He hasn’t hurt you too much yet – no bruises, no broken bones or blood, and you don’t want to provoke him further.

“Don’t cry so much, I didn’t even fucked ye. I’ll get ye off later, aye?”

You don’t want him to ever touch you again – despite that disgusting, burning feeling on your panties, the way your little cunt is fucking soaked because his voice is gruff, his face is pretty, and he almost touched you in a way that wasn’t making you sick – it all dropped now, thankfully, your mind is reminded of just how horrible he really is. “Just sit yer wee arse here, lassie. Lt and I will take care of ye” You almost fell asleep when he finally stopped in front of…a building. You don’t know what you were expecting – an evil lair, maybe some grimy base where monsters like him are being made. Not a rather normal apartment building, maybe a bit too scary and dark for your liking – you probably wouldn’t want to live here or even be around this place at night, but, ultimately, it doesn’t look like an evil base.

This only makes your condition worse – you start sobbing again, useless and pathetic begging as the Scot drags you out of the car, supporting your wobbly legs and making sure you won’t fall down to the ground as he gently caresses your body. He is too fucking soft, too gentle – even his grip on your wrists isn’t bruising, he has one hand on your waist, gently pushing you towards the building.

***

Ghost wasn’t expecting guests today. He just got out of another deployment, a few days from the previous mission, ready to get back any time if it weren’t for the fact they all deserved a little retreat – yet, he was planning to go with alcohol, maybe some lowly jerk-off sessions with Johnny and shitton of cigarettes to pass the day. What he wasn’t expecting is his sergeant spamming the 141 group chat – shitty idea, really, too much liability and security problems, despite all the measures Price took to encrypt everything – with pictures of cute, crying girl being all adorable, scared and fucking defenseless.

No one in 141 is a good person – it comes with the job, really, if you’re willing to be a good guy with a gun, there will always be a moment when the lines become blurred. Dragging a civilian girl to their damp apartment isn’t a life-or-death decision made in the field, but they all deserve a bit of sweetness after a mission, right?

They can be good for you. Simon isn’t sure there is anything in his heart that can still be declared as soft and fuzzy feelings, but he is willing to try and find it, even if for a night. They won’t be letting you go, obviously, Lasswell won’t cover their sorry asses in case you’re getting out with a marvelous surviving story, so you all would have a lot of time to get to know each other.

— Thought you’d bring food, Johnny.

— I did. Not my fault they gave up sweets as freebies.

— How is she?

— Quiet. Our lassie is a smart girl, eh? Didn’t even fight too much.

— Fuckin’ hell. Thought they stopped making those a while ago.

— Good thing I found her, aye?

Ghost stands at the door of their shared apartment, staring at adorable scared you. You’re shaking in his sergeant’s hands, poor thing, too fucking terrified to even run – you have mascara smeared all over your face, drool and cum on your lips, and he drags a finger to your mouth, wiping it all away.

You instinctively suck on his finger, the natural obedience coming with a very simple “please, don’t hurt me” plea – and he fucking knows you will be so good for them. He is dragging you inside, allowing Soap to push the takeout bag on the small table in the kitchen while Simon is dealing with all of those silly clothes you’re wrapped in.

You beg him to stop, but, at this point, even you don’t think he will. All ounces of hope were destroyed already. You aren’t sure what you want anymore – maybe you want to just lay down and sleep, hoping that they will stop tormenting you. The ache between your legs only grows stronger when Ghost drags you to the bedroom, his strong, bulky hands holding you so perfectly – so firmly, you can’t even wish to move away.

The mattress creaks under the combined weight of your bodies. You roll to the side immediately, your brain is foggy from alcohol again – you don’t even register his rough, firm hands as he is slowly dragging the ruined dress from your body, revealing the underwear you spend so much time choosing and buying. You liked the combination – you wanted to wear something nice today, even if no one would have seen it.

Now you have this horrifying man in a skull balaclava and harsh hands tugging on the straps of your bra. You sob, head spinning and vomit picking in your throat. The man puts a hand between your shoulder blades, just enough pressure to make you grounded – to remind you that there is no way out, even in your mind.

— Calm down, love. Won’t hurt ya.

You choke on a laugh – they are literally going to fucking assault you, you were already forced to suck on Soap’s dick, and yet, this man is playing gentleman with you while undressing you at the same time. You cry again, your tears met with a soft hand on your cheek – checking on you.

God, you want to drown in this affection, no matter how artificial it is.

— L…let me go, please. I won’t tell anyone.

— Too late for that, eh? Johnny don’t have any bloody manners.

Scot screams from the kitchen, making you wince from the sound.

“Bloody hell, Lt, I ken ye were fine with draggin’ our lassie here a minute ago!“ You sobs intensify, and you never felt more fragile than before – just one loud sound is enough to break you. The British guy drags you into an uncomfortably tight embrace almost immediately – you’d say you’re almost thankful for the moment of affection, but he snaps your bra a second later.

— Sorry, love. Will buy you a new one.

His fingertips are rough on your skin, a contrast that sends shivers down your spine. You whine, feeling stranded like this – feeling like you’re going to be fucking sick from the moisture in your panties. You hate yourself for being this touch starved, but the man is as rough as he is mysterious – and by the look of his figure, perfectly sculpted hands, and a healthy amount of tummy that doesn’t make him look any less intimidating, he might be up to your tastes. It's too bad you don’t have a choice anyway.

— Don’t touch me.

— Can’t help it. You’re pretty.

You feel like you are going to have a fucking panic attack. This is too much – you feel sick, you feel mortified, you are getting your hands out of his hold with the power of surprise and dragging them closer to your mouth, trying to contain the involuntary bile collecting in your throat. You gag, finally feeling all the alcohol you took, getting back to bite you in the ass.

Before you could say or try anything else, before you could even be bent over, trying to calm yourself down before you dirty everything in this fine-looking bedroom, Brit already dragged you to the bathroom, allowing you to look at the tile floor and white ceramics while you were vomiting your guts, cum, and anxiety out of your stomach.

It took you a few minutes before you could get anything out – and another few while you were just holding the toilet seat, not even caring about how unsanitary it was. You feel like you’re going to die, the throbbing in your head only intensifying as you could almost feel dropping out of conscience. God, you will never drink again – even though it’s a promise that will break you right after you break it.

— Bloody hell, love. Easy. Easy.

— F…fuck you.

— You will, love. Promise.

The skull mask guy was rubbing your back the whole time, a motion you didn’t expect from a kidnapper, rapist and a fucking arsehole. He gently took your hair out of the way, he slowly rubbed calming gestures in your aching muscles, and you leaned into his touch, your state was finally reaching the breaking point – you were longing for the soft touch of your captor, not even caring that he is just as awful as his friends, rummaging through various bags somewhere in the other room.

You cry, the depths of the situation finally getting to you – and he drags you into a tight hug after wiping your mouth with a paper towel, throwing it away before you could feel sick from the smell again.

He talks you through it with his grovely voice and deep accent, and you can’t help but lean in and listen.

— Calm down. Can’t have you panicking on my cock.

— D…don’t touch me. Please.

— You need this, love. We’re not the worst people who could have picked ya up.

— You’re a bunch of fucking ra…

He stops you immediately – holds your hand, and drags you back to the bedroom almost too rough, dropping you to the bed before you can manage to scramble your legs and writhe away from his touch. You sob again, crying even more – you don’t have makeup now. Thankfully, everything was mostly wiped out by the paper towels and a mix of your tears, but you still feel horrible. Laying on the soft bed in your soaked panties made you feel like a slut, and this is not the feeling you were expecting out of this night. You just fucking wanted to go home and sleep the alcohol out, not…this.

— We’ll take care of you. Be a good girl for us, and I will make Johnny pay for not getting you off, eh?

You can hear the Scot again, emerging from the kitchen in an apron – to your surprise. He looks too domestic, too clean, his hair is a bit disheveled after your little attempt at breaking out, and you can see the resemblance between him and a very, very sad and polite dog. If he had a tail, it would be curled between his knees, a look of genuine guilt almost making you believe that he wanted to apologize for being so forceful.

— Steamin’ Jesus, I tried to be a gentleman. Didn’t want to scare our lassie too much.

— She’s shivering. Poor girl, was Johnny this scary?

— It’s yer mask. Wee things always scared of those.

They both laugh, clearly not taking your tears seriously. You curl into the bed, trying to protect your exposed breasts and midriff as much as possible. You don’t want to be touched, you feel dirty and used already, but their attentive gaze is making your skin burn and crawl from the feelings you never thought you knew before. It’s a horrible situation, but somehow, you are almost flattered because of how affectionate they both look for someone as insignificant as you.

Maybe, it’s your brain trying to protect itself from further trauma. Maybe, if you’d lie to yourself long enough, you could pretend you want this.

Ghost looks at you, drinking the drowning panic in your eyes. You’re so pretty, so helpless, he doesn’t even want to think of what could happen to you if Johnny weren’t here to pick you up. You’d be murdered in cold blood, left laying on the side of the street after a group of some perverts would be done with you. You don’t deserve to be treated like this, you deserve a proper help and calmness of living with them – and he knows that once he is done with bringing his first orgasm with your body, you will learn to love it too. Maybe not at first, but the seeds would be there.

He tries to be on his best behavior as he slowly drags his body between your legs, catching your ankles once you tried to kick him. You’re like a kitten, growling and hissing, clawing on his hands like it didn’t turn him on even more – he pins you under his weight easily, enjoying the audience of Soap already palming himself through his pants. Fucking pervert – he already came in your mouth not so long ago, but the lieutenant knows that given a chance, his sergeant will break this girl for another three rounds in a row. They can’t have that, right?

— Calm, love. Don’t make it harder for yourself.

— Stop…please, just…god, wait, I…

It’s such empty words, he knows you can’t calm yourself down – you’re a pretty girl, really, you’re cute and adorable, and you don’t deserve his firm hand taking off your lace panties, but he knows that you will love it after a few more times. You’re dripping already, a combination of manhandling and previous foreplay making you adorably weak for them.

— Will make you nice and wet, yeah? Such a pretty cunt, bound to give it a taste.

— W..wait, please, don’t, really, j…just let me…

— Quiet, love. You’ll fuckin’ love it.

Ghost drags his fingers straight into your folds, spreading them as quickly as possible. He would love to give you more time to adjust, but he was hard ever since Johnny made that goddamn call, and patience isn’t his best quality when on leave – he needs you in all ways you can handle. On your back, preferably, he wants to see that pretty face of yours when he will bottom himself in your cunt and make you squeal. Maybe play with your ass for a little – if you’re going to be the team’s favorite girl, they need all of your holes ready to be used.

You squeak from surprise when he drags his mask on the upper half of his face, revealing his mouth. Clean-shaved chin, a bit of uneven blonde stubble, strong jawline – he smirks because he knows he is quite the opposite of ugly, that even after all the burns and scars, he is still that rugged type of handsome that ladies in pubs just love to touch. He wonders if you’re more of a typical pretty boy type – he wonders if you’d like Gaz as much as you love Simon. And you fucking adore him by the sight of your wet pussy almost dripping on his tongue.

You beg him to stop when he slides his tongue in, the feeling of his harsh fingers stretching you only making everything hotter, less bearable. You don’t want to like it, but he is handsome and strong, he is whispering sweet compliments into your pussy, sliding sloppy kisses all over your folds, not forgetting to pay attention to your throbbing clit.

“Such a pretty cunt for us. What was the last time she got so much attention?”

He kisses you down there sloppily, adding another finger almost immediately to really make you feel that burn. You’re crying from stimulation, it’s been a while since the last time you had anything so heated – you just want him to stop, to proceed, to let you go, and also to never stop kissing your pussy and collecting all the juice that’s been flowing from you. You make the bedsheets under your ass wet, and Ghost just can’t help but stretch you a bit more, enjoying the sound of your confused, almost pained squeals.

“Stop crying, love. I could have taken your arse instead.”

He can only imagine how adorable you’d look, crying from his cock in your plump rear. He is by no means small, and the thought of tearing your pretty arse just a little, making you cry from being filled so much, makes him even harder. He needs to be patient, can’t break your rear before Captain gets here – but god, isn’t patience the hardest virtue.

“S’good for me. Sorry, love, can’t wait much longer. Got a bloody lovely cunt f’ me”

You cry even harder when Ghost finally slides his cock in you – one harsh thrust, the sound of his hips slapping against yours, is enough to make you sick again. You’re stretched, dripping wet, it wouldn’t hurt if only he had a normal-sized cock, not the fucking monstrosity he is showing in your underprepared pussy. Nothing would prepare you for this – he started moving immediately, with little regard for your comfort. The niceties he was whispering were falling on deaf ears as he slammed inside of you over and over again.

You feel sick.

— Fuck. S’ tight for me.

You’re clenching around his dick, not allowing him to pull back. Such a pretty girl, he doesn’t know what he would do without that feeling – he wants to fucking devour you whole, to have you laid out for him so prettily. He bottoms finally, stretching you beyond any man could – you feel him somewhere deep, near your cervix, hitting your sensitive walls while all you can do is cry for him to stop tormenting you like this. You can only squeal under him, for him, he is hitting all of your special spots at the same time, and you don’t know if you could really handle him like this.

His hand lands on your folds, playing with your clit – only making you more and more wet with each second, you almost feel like you are passing the breaking point already. He is stronger than you want him to be, and you feel like he is going to fucking break you, every attempt of squirming from under him is met with a fierce grip on your waist, dragging you back where you belong – moaning and crying on his cock.

The intrusion stopped being painful after a few minutes, you’re open enough to allow his cock to slide in and out easily. He bites your neck, munching on sensitive flesh like he is going to rip a chuck off you, leaving marks as if he were a wild dog. You moan under him, the feeling of his teeth on your skin isn’t exactly horrible – but not too enjoyable either.

You squirm softly, hoping he would at least cum soon.

— That’s right. Dumb civvie girls should just relax for the ride.

— N…not dumb. I’m not dumb.

— Only a dumb girl like you would get in Johnny’s hands. S’ry, love, but you really are dumb.

— I’m…

— It’s alright. We like dumb girls.

He moans in your ear, biting your earlobe, engaging in a sloppy kiss that allows you to taste your pleasure on his lips. You hate every second, you want to loathe every inch of his body, but his hand is moving faster and faster, steady rhythm that makes you see stars every time he plunges his cock inside – and, oh god, you can’t help but feel your pussy throbbing around him, the tight knot in your lower tummy getting warmer and warmer as his movements steadily brings you to an orgasm.

It hits you too fast to be prepared for – just a few minutes later, you’re panting under him, mouth open agape as he slides his cock even faster, abusing your poor, sensitive cunt. You’re milking him for cum, not even caring that you are not on the pill – you just concentrate on the head of his cock hitting your G-spot in the most perfect of timings and his rough fingertips caressing your clit in a way that makes you go wild.

You cum with a cry, soft, squeaky sobs escaping your lips as you hiccup and moan, pressing your hips against his in an attempt to become as close as possible. You feel his hot cum filling you up, a slight bulge in your lower tummy becoming even more prominent.

Ghost kisses you on the forehead as he slowly emerges from you, hissing as your tight walls refuse to let him go. You’re so fucking perfect, all flushed and panting heavily, neck covered in bite marks and outline of his bruises forming on your waist.

He pats your pussy a few times, making you shiver from the feeling.

— Such a pretty girl. Lay here, your cunt is goin’ to be a bit more visitors today.

He smiles, kissing you on the lips again – you whimper, curling on the bed, feeling the hot cum dripping from your exhausted, sore pussy. You feel his hand affectionately patting your head as if you were a cat, and he hums in approval when you instinctively lean towards his hand, getting as much affection as you possibly can. He brings you a pillow and drags your head so it would rest more comfortably – and you already feel extremely tired, your eyes closing.

You’re almost ready to sleep when you feel the Scot sliding in bed with you, slowly spreading your legs.

#cod #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #yandere cod #yandere ghost #yandere soap #soap x reader #dark ghost #yandere 141 #141 x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #yandere #yandere male #yandere imagines #male yandere

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homerforsure · 2 months

Text

Saw the episode. Ascended to a higher plane. Wrote a small Coda that is as messy as my brain is right now. Bone Apple Tea.

"Heyyyyyy Buck!" Eddie answers the phone with a drawn out salutation that proves Tommy was not lying about him being sent away from the hospital with the good drugs. Or, not lying about the prescription, but about Eddie actually taking them. It wasn't so long ago that Eddie would take enough medicine to avoid being in agony, but never quite enough to actually feel relief. He wouldn't do that for Tommy, however close they are. It's something that Eddie's doing for himself. Buck's stomach was a swarm of butterflies three seconds ago, but that and the floaty happy way Eddie still says his name, has him smiling again in his kitchen.

"Hey Eddie. I, um, I'm sorry to call so late. I just wanted to see how- how you were doing."

"Eh, I'll miss a shift or two. But Doc says I'll be ready to go for playoffs," Eddie answers.

Guilt twists through him, harsh and acidic and Buck says, "Well I'm glad to hear that. They say the team doesn't have a chance without you and your, um, sky dunk." Eddie laughs, giggles really, in reply and Buck says, "I'm sorry, Eddie. I don't know why I did that. I mean- I- I know why. I was jealous of you and- and Tommy-" Buck's heart flips as he says his name and he's afraid the kiss is going to come flying out of his mouth and down the phone line- "But I never wanted you to get hurt like that."

"You wanted me to get hurt different?" Eddie asks, still laughing, but Buck feels stricken.

"No! I- maybe. I don't know what I wanted. I lost my mind for a little bit."

"You were jealous," Eddie repeats.

"Yeah, I was."

A long sigh and Eddie says, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I was the asshole. I could have- I knocked you out of your shoe."

"Do you have my shoe?" Eddie asks, more focused than he has been the rest of the conversation. Buck can hear him sitting up on the couch.

"Uh, no. No, I gave it to Chim. He's gonna give it to you when he sees you. And probably make about 50 Cinderella jokes."

"Right. He texted me. I remember."

"I'm sure he'll bring it by sooner if you need it. Or he could give it to Tommy." The flush is there again, hot down the back of his neck. Buck doesn't know how he's supposed to do this. Where is he supposed to keep all of this heat and possibility while he waits for Saturday.

"You don't like him."

"Who? Chim? He's growing on me."

"Tommy," Eddie answers in a tone that says duh. "You can't even say his name normal."

Of course Eddie can hear that. Of course he assumes that's the problem after the way Buck has acted since the moment they met the man. He thanks god that he decided to call instead of driving across town and checking on Eddie in person. His cheeks and his ears are burning like fire.

"He can tell, you know. We both can. He said he's going to come talk to you. Gave him your address. Wants to apologize." Eddie must have settled back down on the couch. He sounds sleepier, his sentences getting shorter and more breathy.

"He did. He um. He came by. We talked it out. I told him you guys didn't have anything to apologize for. I was the one who made it weird."

"So weird," Eddie agrees and Buck laughs. "You guys should be friends. He's awesome and you're awesome and we can all hang out together and it would be..."

"Awesome," Buck finishes. He thinks it might be.

"I forgot you don't know that."

"Know what?" Buck asks, when Eddie's mumble doesn't come with any additional clarification. "Eddie?"

"Hmm?"

"Never mind. Hey, you should get up and go to your bed. Sleeping on that couch is not going to help your ankle heal any faster."

"Tommy said that."

"Tommy's right. Come on."

Eddie groans as he sits up, cursing at Buck in what he thinks is under his breath, and asks, "You talked to Tommy?"

"Yeah, he just left."

"And we're okay? You like him now?"

Buck's blood roars through his ears and he wants to throw up and start laughing all at the same time. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Good."

He breathes through the sudden headrush as Eddie grumbles and hops his way off the couch and down the hall. Buck knows where he's finding his handholds by the echo off the walls and he winces when Eddie takes a misstep and swears again. He thinks for a second that he should be there, that he should help Eddie to bed, but Eddie would never let him. Buck wonders if Tommy would let him. He's wondering about so much now and he never did before.

"Hey, Eds?" The question is out before Buck realizes he's asking it, small and vulnerable, and he wants to claw it back and swallow it down before Eddie notices, but he doesn't have a chance.

"Yeah?"

Tommy kissed me. I want him to do it again.

"No, nothing. Just. I'm sorry. I was out of line."

"You were," Eddie answers. "And I forgive you."

Something settles in Buck then. A piece that had still been sitting off kilter and jamming painfully under his ribs. He takes a deep breath, and joy washes fully over him, calming and centering. He doesn't ask the question again though. He thinks he wants to keep this tiny, glowing treasure to himself. At least for a little while.

"Bring me my shoe back and we'll call it even."

Buck laughs, letting the sound ring out through his apartment and he can hear Eddie smiling on the other end of the phone.

#idk what this is #my brain exited my body several hours ago #it's not the fic i said i was writing in my head that's for sure #7.04 #buck bothered and bewildered #episode coda #911 fic #evan buck buckley #911 spoilers #allison writes

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themotherofhorses · 1 month

Text

‘22!simon riley x fem!reader x ‘09!simon riley

warnings: smut. threesome. fingering. allusions to an age gap relationship/relationship between a superior and subordinate. ending open to more future smut.

As I was discussing with @cloudofbutterflies92:

Imagine being sandwiched between ‘09!Ghost and ‘22!Ghost.

Somehow— to be fair, you still don’t know all the details —Ghost’s variant appeared on base; just randomly one October evening, when the 141 was hunkered down in a break room, piled around a TV replaying a previous football match (“Soccer. It’s called soccer, fucking heathens.”).

Well, at least, you assumed him to be his variant; he bore a striking resemblance to your Simon—only years younger, and a tiny bit shorter in height. Yet, the skull-patterned balaclava, shades, and grey-hooded, zipped sweatshirt with the Union Jack patch and insane amount of pockets were the exact same. The sight gave you butterflies in your tummy.

For the most part, though, you maintained a respectful distance from him—that Ghost, that Simon Riley.

“Can I refer to him as Poltergeist?” “Eh, love. Do whatever the hell you want.”

You were Simon Riley’s girl, but he was not your Simon; far from it, in fact. Your Simon was years older, rougher around the edges, with a foul mouth, dry humor, and scars that littered his temple and left cheek.

Would it still count as cheating?

Whatever. You refused to think more of it, instead choosing to stow that thought away in the far corner of your mind as you continued on with your main duties and day-to-day routines. By all means, such thinking teetered into dangerous waters — it could be seen as infidelity, which meant a likelihood of losing Simon. You couldn’t survive without him, not without your Simon; he was your soulmate, the same way you were his.

Which, by extension, meant you were that Simon’s soulmate as well.

Not that it registered to you, of course. Simon says you’re a bit clueless when it comes to recognizing those little signs; it makes sense — prior to your relationship, you had no idea how obsessed your Lieutenant was with you, and that those lingering touches, soft glances, and praises were not normal between a superior and his subordinate. He calls it endearing (“You’re so clueless, baby. God, what would I do without ya?”).

Simon— your Simon —knows that his variant wants you.

It was easy for him to see. Simon Riley loves you so much; he is so unbelievably obsessed with your pretty self, so it made perfect sense for his variant to be equally obsessed with you, too. How could he not be? From the delicious curve of your hipbones, twinkling eyes, and soft hands (so much smaller than his) to the way your plush lips pout, everything about you is utter perfection to him.

(There is probably no universe out there where he isn’t so fucking deeply in love with you, he tells himself.)

So when his variant’s own blue eyes start following you around anytime you’re in the same room as him (Simon knows he’s licking his lips beneath the balaclava, dirty bloke), instead of feeling jealous, Simon feels—

—something else.

Pride. Satisfaction. A bit devilish.

Simon won’t ever share you with anyone else. You’re his. Only he is allowed to see you breathless and whining beneath him, cheeks flushed, soaking the bedsheet as your body ruts against his, soft voice begging for his cock. Other men can dream, but only he lives out those wet dreams.

But that Simon is still Simon.

His eyes are almost the same; the bright blueness carries the exact trauma, hardness, and wariness, made from years of childhood abuse and depression. He has the hands once used in the butcher shop, and the long, thin scar on the back of his neck, where his bastard of a father slammed a beer bottle down during a drunken frenzy. The only difference, however, is that his variant still hasn’t found his main reason to live:

You.

You’re the medicine to Simon’s soul. The first time he gazed into your eyes, he knew he found his reason to continue living in this shitty world; and the first time he stuffed you full of his cock, molding your previously untouched cunt to the shape of him, he told himself there was no way for him to live without you. How he survived this far without you, he’ll never know.

Therefore, he’ll call it a dosage.

You’d call it a threesome.

He has you seated on the living room couch, legs spread apart wide as both Simons have their hands buried deep in your pretty cunt—stretching you out more than what you’re used to. You take turns sloppily making out with both men, their massive cocks held in your hands as your tongue entangles with theirs.

“Oh…oh my god,” you mewl, suddenly flinging your head back as their thick fingers piston in and out of your tiny hole; there is a soft, squelching sound that fills the room as they repeatedly slide through your juices.

“Bloody hell, she’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” the younger Simon groans, bending down to suck on your nipple. He runs his free hand over your other breast, teasing your sensitive nub with his thumb. “Lucky bastard.”

Your Simon smirks at that. “She loves havin’ her pretty pussy played with. Aye, don’t ya, love?” His fingers curl to hit that spongy g-spot that causes you to shriek and squirm and see stars, your pussy tightening around him. Simon grits his teeth. “Look at ya, baby…all flushed and panting.” He picks up the pace, thrusting his two fingers faster.

“C’mon, pretty girl," he further coos, tucking a strand behind your ear. "Be a good girl and cum all over our hands, yeah?”

You nod, bucking your hips to follow their thrusts, in sheer desperation for your orgasm. The younger Simon leaves wet kisses along your jawline, lathering the skin around your mouth with his tongue. “God, you taste so fucking good,” he murmurs against your skin with a deep, guttural moan, his fingers continuing to fuck your pussy, with his thumb rubbing your puffy, little clit roughly.

“Tastes good for a Yank, huh?”

“I could survive off of her for life.”

Your back arches from the overstimulation, a puddle of salva pooling at the edge of your swollen lips. “Si—SIMON, FUCK.” You’re not sure which Simon the moan is meant to be for, and you’re also not sure how much longer you’re gonna last; your pussy is only becoming wetter, and you’re unable to muster out any words. “P-please, please, p-please.”

“Good fucking girl. That’s it. Cum for us. Cum for your men.”

Meanwhile, younger Simon kisses the side of your mouth, pumping his fingers inside your poor pussy faster. “C’mon, love. Lemme feel you cum.”

“Cum on our fingers—” your Simon mumbles in your ear again, pausing to suck your earlobe between his lips. He gives it a gentle tug with his teeth, making you squeak.“—like a good girl, and you’ll get your pussy eaten. Sounds good, yeah, don’t it, baby?”

“Simon,” you whine out, oh so prettily.

He grins. “C’mon, baby. That’s my good girl. Gimme it—I know you can, pretty girl.”

His words do it for you. With a loud, high-pitched moan, your mouth drops in a perfect, little ‘o’ as you shriek, gushing around their fingers, feeling a sharp orgasm raking across your body. Your legs shake while you fall limp against the couch’s cushion, breathing heavily.

“Holy shit,” the younger Simon breathes while pulling his fingers out of your pussy. Would you look at that? In the room’s lighting, he can see the way they glisten with a mess of your juices, staring down at it with a mix of admiration, awe, and pure lust.

“Fuck.” He raises them to his mouth, slowly sucking off your essence with a low mmmm. “So fuckin’ good.”

"Yeah?"

"Bloody fuckin' lucky bloke you are, mate."

"I know."

Their back-and-forth banter makes you giggle. "God," you pant, all flushed and covered in countless hickies. “Can’t drive for shit but knows how to give a girl a damn good orgasm.”

“Hey,” your Simon chuckles, squeezing your thigh. “Don’t start with that shit, love.” He gives your forehead a kiss before gently caressing your chin, “Why don’t ya spread your thighs again and give him a taste, right from the source, hm?”

#vic writes 🧸#call of duty #cod mw #cod ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #09 ghost #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x fem!reader #ghost x reader #ghost x fem!reader

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scatterbrainedbot · 6 months

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Hello :D

You're so cool

Anyway have you thought that in your rat sons au Splinter might outlive the boys?

You're very cool :D love your stuff dude

(tw for some blood, light gore, implied overdose (kinda??))

hi copper!!! this is a fantastic question!

so obviously typical irl rats have far shorter lifespans than the average irl tortoise. according to google (yes, be awed by my spectacularly in-depth wealth of research) the average pet rat lives between 2-4 years ish, and the oldest on record lived to be about 7. meanwhile, an African spurred tortoise (Splinter's species) averages more around a 50ish year lifespan in captivity, tho is suspected to possibly exceed 75 or more in the wild.

Now, the mutation does give us a lot of wiggle room for playing with these numbers. For the rat sons boys, id say their natural lifespan probably clocks in at about 45-55 years old? definitely not old by human standards, but not young young either. (though, its also important to note that the boys were exposed to the mutagen just days after being born.)

For Splinter, meanwhile, aging is slightly more complicated. He lived the vast majority of his life as a regular normal African spurred tortoise (well, non-mutated at least. there were perhaps some shenanigans of a more mystical variety going on before he was mutated, but thats a separate matter) He was about 70ish i think? when the boys were born and they were all exposed to the mutagen. so he is already distinctly an old man turtle papa. id guess he'd probably still have another eh lets say 25-30 years after his mutation. he could probably push it a little farther even with some mystic nonsense, but when push comes to shove id say his 'natural' post-mutation lifespan would put his death like a solid decade or two before his sons.

of course, the tricky part of the matter is that theres no way for Splinter to know any of this. theres no way for him to know how the mutation affected them all, or if it even affected them all in the same way. especially since the boys dont show many physical signs of mutation for the first few years, and just kinda look like normal rats, (albeit with a more human sort of intelligence) — what sort of health standard do you hold them to? what if they simply dont show external signs of sickness or old age anymore? how do you actually know if something is wrong?

for a while there Splinter is very worried that one of his babies will just essentially reach the end of their normal rat lifespan, fall and not get up again.

so mostly, he just tries to live in the moment, enjoying whatever time he does have with his little ones, taking each day as a gift <3

still,

that fear

never

really

goes

away.....

#cue the 2003 tmnt dramatic Shredder sound effect TM #my art #rat sons #tmnt au #ask reply #TOOK ME A FULL MONTH TO ANSWER AND IM STILL NOT SUPER PLEASED WITH THE RESULTS BUT #also apologies if shits incohierent im v sick rn #but thank you so much for the question copper!!#a parents grief and terror at the thought of outliving their children #always gets me #and boy howdy these rat babies do Not make that shit easy for ol Splinter #all of them have brushed too close to death too many times #tbh thats probably why he started teaching them ninjutsu etc #like yeah yeah discpline and routine and practice all excellent lessons #but also #yall squishy babies and ur father is Stressed please learn to fight good so its one less thing he has to worry about #sorry splints theyre hamatos now theyre destined for danger #cw blood #cw gore

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fatuismooches · 2 months

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Currently in my bed just fantasizing about having kids Dott.. Like, if it was through normal means or you somehow got Dottore to create a baby in his lab, I find it very amusing if the kid came out looking just like him.

This little baby with the same curly blue hair and red eyes as Dottore :(( He just stares at the child, unsure how to react. I bet during the first few months he’d be very unsure how to handle his child, sometimes not even wanting to hold them out of fear he may hurt them somehow.

Everyone is confused why Dottore made a child segment, everyone just kind of assuming his child was a segment. It’s not until they grow old enough to walk around and figure out how to slip out their father’s arms to explore the palace people start wondering what Dottore’s actual relationship with this child is.

Other Harbingers and even some lower ranking Fatuus see how Dottore grows agitated and almost anxious when the child leaves his line of sight, the doctor’s already short temper growing even shorter as he snaps at anyone until he can find the child.

Dottore eventually begrudgingly telling some of the more nosy Harbingers he has a child after they grow a bit too curious. Word travels fast and it’s not long until you have a few low ranking Fatuus and maybe even a Harbinger like Pantalone or Childe asking how you could possibly want to have a child with Dottore of all people.

I just.. hoghh i know the harbingers r like war criminals but i wanna be all lovey and domestic and have families with them 😞😞 [📺 Anon]

To convince Dottore to have and raise a kid with you is such a procedure that couldn't accurately be put into words. Here you have a man who doesn't have the slightest bit of father material in him. It took ages for him to love you, will he be able to love his child? When he struggles to make peace with himself and yet his kid is the spitting image of him? Surprisingly enough, he takes these things more seriously than one would ever think because he is self-aware and clearly remembers how his own parents treated him.

He's most poor at taking care of small children, especially when they're crying. And even when they're quiet and docile, Dottore still can't bring himself to do anything, his fingers flexing awkwardly. His hands just aren't suited for this gentleness. However, I think he gets more comfortable when the kid is older. He likes talking with them and expanding their mind. Making them toys and puzzles that are probably too advanced for their age. And seeing how the child is a mix of both him and you, your features are ever so endearing... even when the child inherits your mischievousness and goal to terrorize him. Over time the relationship gets better and the child and father get a lot closer, even though it started off pretty hazy at first. You're very proud of the progress.

(Okay but people thinking his kid is a segment... that is just too funny because the idea of someone having a kid with the Doctor never crosses their mind eh? And people being nosy and asking you questions 😭 poor reader, how can you explain you just wanted a family with the love of your life? Not a perfect one, but a happy one.)

He's definitely not the model father but he does have you to help him out, and teach him slowly but surely. He truly does love his child even if his affection isn't shown in a typical manner. Regardless, it must have worked out, considering the child loves their parents very much. A little menace in the making...

The war criminals will be unconventionally domestic with you I promise!!!

#smooches talks #📺 anon #dottore love notes <3 #i still remember ur previous ask abt this 📺 anon the brainrot is STRONG huh 😭#i can relate to this tbh #i dont want kids irl but with dottore yes 😭🙏#idk how genshin is gonna end but i love thinking abt settling down w him after everything is over and somehow u have a kid with him #biological or not #(yea yea im delusional keep scrolling)

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shuxiii · 11 months

Text

Love at first web— Hanni Pham x reader

synopsis: Hanni desperate for a hit news was ready to do anything to have a brief interview with the one and only friendly neighborhood spider-man. Yet it didn't seem like an easy task when you're swinging out of reach of her, so she does the ordeal.

Note: is my obsession getting obvious for the Australian-Vietnamese girl now because i think its getting chronic each day

��️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️

''Hanni, you can't just do whatever you want without facing the repercussions,'' Minji, my long-time best friend and my boss.

''I can make it up to, i can—''

''Hanni, you've caused too much problem and it's causing harm to our resources; why don't you focus on less challenging news?'' Minji says ''well like um,, oh! like that protest against—''

I was too driven by my thoughts to even care to listen to her rantings, I couldn't bear to be held back I've dedicated my life to journalism, just a few rough patches won't stop me.

I need to think, i need something big. something that will give me back Minji's trust in my work, I look at the little spider on the wall hanging on its web quietly weaving its spider web, and it hits me.

''so like i was saying han—''

''I can talk to Spider-girl'' I say.

Minji takes a pause and stares at me perplexed.

''What?''

''i can get an interview with spider-girl themselves,'' I suggest hesitantly. and that didn't go unnoticed by Minji.

''really? how exactly?'' she asked.

crap. think of something.

''well, i have contacts that will get me through spider-girl myself,'' I lie ''so if you just let me do this, just once I'll make it up for those mistakes.''

''Hanni—'' I gaze at Minji's conflicted thoughts, she knows me well. she knows i don't just give up. and eventually, she sighs.

''fine, but if i don't get any progress by the end of the week, you're halted with any bigger works.''

I jumped in triumph, hugging Minji tightly.

''okay don't get ahead of yourself, you still owe me an interview with a superhero'' she giggles.

i rejoiced too soon, now i was in a cornered wall.

lying was easy, but making it real was difficult

Let's be real how exactly will I get a hold of a human swinging from buildings to buildings like it's a normal Monday morning.

It was deemed so impossible but what do I have to lose? Yeah, my job. Exactly.

If I don't get this interview, then I’ll question myself if I was ever suited for journalism, I don't care if it takes a train to stop me, I'm getting that spider.

I knew exactly how to get their attention. It's simple put myself in to trouble.

🕸️ 🕸️ 🕸️ 🕸️ 🕸️

And as smart yet stupid as i was, i decided to get mugged in an alleyway.

It was easy, carry an expensive-looking bag while appearing naive and vulnerable. You’ll have all the eyes of every burglar you get in Manhattan.

I go down a dark alleyway, hearing faint and slow footsteps behind me, and as I reach the end of the street, I glance back to see two buff males wearing balaclava masks approaching me.

And, like every comedian's punch line, they speak their six legendary lines.

“Give us all you have, miss”

And of course I try to stall.

“I don't have anything with me,” I say.

I heard a scoff at the other guy much more shorter than the other one.

“Then what's in your bag?” He says “Nothing?” He laughs.

I take a step back and with every step they inch closer. Yet no signs of that famous red suit spider.

The consequences of my impulsive choices has started to bite back at me, and the fear has started to set in.

“C’mon miss, you don't want to make this harder than it already is” the taller one says.

He grips on my wrist, tight enough to make me wince.

“Let go of me!” I try to push away his hand but he was twice as big as me, and it didn't budge at all.

raspy laughs echoed through the dark alleyway, and he grips me tighter.

“This one's a fighter eh?” He smiles, putting his face closer to mine, smelling the horrible stench of cigarettes and alcohol.

“My, I couldn't take a good look at you but aren't you a little too pretty to be here? He says “We definitely hit the jackpot.”

I look back at him in disgust. And even though I tried to hide my dread, I felt confined and terrified more than I ever had before.

“Why don't you entertain us huh?” He grins with a gleam of darkness in his eyes.

I felt tears drop against my cheeks as i imagine the worst to come.

I close my eyes in fear.

“Hey jerry help me here” he says.

Yet the silence was only heard.

“Jerry!” He yells louder “ are you fucking deaf?”

“What the fuck!”

I open my eyes to see the shorter guy webbed against the wall, muffling.

"Hey now, that's not very chivalrous of you," the one and only says as the guy collides with the wall in the blink of an eye.

A loud thud was heard, as the burglar falls inside the steel wheelie bin.

And just like that the two burglars were webbed and knocked out.

I stood there in both fear and relief.

Suddenly she went up to me placing both her hands against my cheeks,

“Hanni? Are you okay?!” She says with quaver in her voice, like she was scared.

“Are you hurt, did he hurt you?” She gently brushes the part of my wrist the guy gripped.

“Yeah—I’m okay,” I say yet the shake in my voice said otherwise.

She looks at me and suddenly her lenses became bigger, like she just registered what she said.

And I gaze back at her, my benevolent savior, perhaps momentarily questioning the disparities between her identities.

“Wait…Hanni?” i say.

We stare at each other in awkward silence.

“Wait—how do you know my name?” I ask.

“What—I mean no—uh” she stutters “I’ve seen you in new reports! You’re quite a renowned reporter…hahaha”

“Anyway,” she coughs “What are you doing here? Don't you know it's not safe being out so late?”

Yeah what was I doing here? Right. Getting myself in trouble to get an interview from you.

“I was going home but these guys followed me and led me to an alleyway” I lie.

“Uh huh,” she pauses, slightly unconvinced “Well um I better get going”

As she was about to swing out my sight, i grab hold of her wrist.

“Wait!” I shriek.

She looks back at me before looking at my hands holding her wrist.

I quickly let go.

“Um—I was wondering if I could get an interview from you?” I ask, hopeful.

“Uh,” she says “Look, I’m a little busy with my fans at the moment aka my enemies you know? I don't think—“

“It won't take a minute” I pleaded.

“I'm not sure…” she scratches her nape.

“If you don't, well I’ll have to keep putting myself in trouble” i blurt out.

“Keep putting yourself in trouble?” She ask “did you—did you put yourself in trouble, to talk to me?” Did

I seriously don't know when to keep my mouth shut, do I?

“Don't you know how utterly dangerous that is?” She inches closer to me “You could hurt yourself or—or even worst!”

i felt like a kid again scolded by their parents except it was a superhero giving me an earing lecture.

“There are so many ways but you decide the most reckless one?” She continues “what if I’m not here when you get hurt?

She was meters away from me and one push was all it needed, maybe if the mask was removed it would have been.

She awkwardly blinks and freezes, noticing the gap between us.

She stiffly backs away from me. Shes one awkward hero.

“Sorry totally forgot personal space existed” she stutters.

“You’re just like someone I know” I say, giggling.

“What?” She asks, taken aback.

“You’re just like someone I know, her names Yn.” I tell her “She’s always nagging about these kinds of stuff.”

I smile at the thought.

“Really, are they cute? She ask “I m-mean like are they hot, or pretty maybe cute, maybe all of the above?”

I look at her, laughing.

“What—did I say something wrong?”

“No”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“Its just a little odd for a superhero to ask such question,” I say.

“Oh, Im sorry—“

“Yeah, they’re cute.”

“What.”

“I said they’re cute.”

“Oh wow—uh so um,” she says “so do you like them?”

I hesitate and smiled at her.

“Yeah, I like her.”

"Like—like them?" She glances back at me, and even with the mask covering her eyes, I can tell she was looking at me intently.

Something about her gaze that hid behind that mask felt so recognizable, almost as if it was a recurring gaze I would see, but I couldn't place my finger on it.

"Why does it seem like you're the one interviewing here?" I ask, smiling back. "How about if you let me interview you, I'll answer all your questions."

She pauses for a moment, considering the deal. And I give her the best beseeching eyes, something I would never do but if it takes a cute girl to allure a man, then I’ll do everything it takes to get a sweet yes.

But this is a hero, a person who has gone through many things I don’t think being seductive would work but it won't hurt to tease, won't it?

“Do you want me to kiss you?” I say, teasingly “Does a kiss seal the deal?”

“W-What?!” She stammers “did the guy hit your head ?”

“Haha very funny one, no he didn’t,” I say, “ it’s just taking you so long to answer, and you aren't denying the kiss, I won't mind either, you have my consent.”

She stays quiet, and i took a few step closer to her.

Her lenses widen as she puts her hands in defense.

“Okay, I-I agree you don't need to do that!” She sputters.

I squeal in excitement, hugging her. I'm not sure whether I'm hallucinating, but the way her body fits in my hold, it had this familiarity to it. it felt like I've hugged her before like I was grown to it, it felt like I was in the arms of someone I love.

“That kiss was just a joke if you didn't get the memo” I chuckle as I let go of the embrace, but the feeling stayed against my skin.

“Y-Yeah i knew it was a joke” she crosses her arms between her chest.

“Well then, how about we meet on the rooftop of the Daily Bugle? Tomorrow, sounds great?”

“Um yeah sure sure, grool” she says.

Grool? Who says that these days.

“Alright” i laugh.

She timidly shoots me a quick wave as she backs away from me still looking back at me.

“Y-Yeah,” she says “see you later”

''Wait! Look ou—'' I winced as she stumbled backward after hitting her head against the steel pole.

“Are you okay?”

“I did that intentionally,” she says “ and it didn't hurt at all”

''right.''

Before she decides to leave completely, she says something that makes my heart feel soft to this day.

“And Han, please don’t do this again,” she says “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

A nickname only I knew who would always call me and suddenly the same familiarity started to dwell on me again, and the questions that lingered in my head started to be answered.

It all became clear.

#newjeans imagines #hanni #newjeans fanfic #hanni pham x reader #hanni pham #kpop idol x reader #idol reader

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iridescentdove · 8 months

Note

I don’t know if you already did this but can I request bad men with f!reader that is like Lumine full power. I heard that with new lore drops that the traveler could destroy world’s. I’m also a huge Lumine fan both as the traveler and abyss princess <33333

Chuuya, Dazai, Jouno & Atsushi x Lumine! Reader

(I just chose the characters myself ehe)

Lumine is skeptical but shares the same curiosity her twin has for everything, she's rational and courageous, along with being generous and helpful towards others that need assistance. And most especially, rather beautiful and somewhat quiet, yet considered rather expressive.

As if a primordial being – Lumine holds power able to destroy worlds and travel through them with ease, and yet, most of it having been sealed away by the Unknown God's own bidding. What happens when she regains her full power and travels through the world of BSD?

Fyodor, Ranpo & Sigma Ver.

CHUUYA NAKAHARA:

You probably already stand out enough due to peculiar clothing and ur girlboss appearance 😩

He is literally so confused- you're saying this short blondie saved worlds and can travel through them all and has these Godly powers to DESTROY EVERYTHING?? UM

Okay but he does admit, you're probably full of surprises. And he admires your brave, courageous nature.

ALSO HE'S SO HAPPY YOUR SHORTER THAN HIM AAA

You're honestly a cute little bean, and a very strong one at that too – so you do get along rather well. Plus you got his back whenever he needs help

His pride probably won't allow him to say it but in some cases you're really helpful in various ways.

You one time, said he reminded you of a familiar sketchy ginger in the previous world you visited through, and now he's actually kinda curious.

Tar- Tar- Taglia lover of Snezhnayan Queen

Someone please make me fanart of Childe! Chuuya and Lumine! Reader I will pay you will all of the massive dumpload of fanfics you will ever want to see

I can imagine him just walking into the PM headquarters one day and greeting you with ...

"Hey girlie." 😏 *lip bite* i am sorry

The first time he witnessed your strength wss when you single handedly beat up the fucking hunting dogs without batting an eye?? Hello?? Wtf sis

"(Y/N) WHAT THE FUCK" "This is normal, no worries"

He is very curious to even know about all of the things you've seen and fought across worlds ...

When you tell him you literally beat up God *cough*Raiden*cough* dude's jaw smashed to the ground

Though you're not very talkative, you sure do have some ... interesting expressions. He's floored. Bro and you're smaller than him he delights in pinching your cheeks and ruffling your hair sjsiskak

Even if he's thankful you're around to help, he does feel as if people abuse your kindness way too much ...

So now he's your bodyguard yay! :D

Whichever bitch tryna shred your ass? You bet he's giving this menacing ass aura, readily cocking a fucking gun and slamming them around across with his gravity manipulation

If you're visibly tired and people keep asking for more help? He will snap at them and tell them to leave you alone <3

By the end of the day, this man is just ... so addictive wtf

And in a romantic light also he literally tries to hide his blushing whenever he sees you whether in a new outfit or not LIKE your beauty is Godly fr

I don't make the rules. This Tartaglia 2.0 worships you.

And if you're the abyss princess instead of traveler, he is definitely thinking ur some hot shit. Same Chuuya, I want her to step on me.

Whenever there's nothing to do, he just sits down and listens to you talk about your journey in other worlds.

And whenever he and you go out on missions together and you give him compliments along the way he's floored, and trying not to show how affected he is with them

Hear me out ... praise kink

DAZAI OSAMU:

Okay, you already know the drill. Once this man sees you he's gonna do a fucking double take

HELLO?? YOU ARE ACTUALLY SO GODDAMN PRETTY

Will ask you to do a double suicide. If you're done with bullshit say actually say yes, I think he's dead in love. If you say no with a blank face, this bitch grows desperate

Well either way he's gonna fucking love you so why not

Did assume that you definitely weren't from this world, just not really the full detail. So he got curious.

Your journeys from different world intrigued him, and the fact you were basically an actual shooting star. Just soaring through the sky away from all the shit like aight m8

But you'd bet this is Dazai, so of course he wants to go see you in action.

After all, you are kinda like, God-level strong.

So why not? You know he wouldn't be too surprised, but he's gonna go apeshit the moment he sees you take on like freaking all PM executives at once and stuff.

HE DID NOT EXPECT YOU ACC TAKE THE DARE LOL

But it didn't really matter because you did somehow manage to defeat them. And literally with your full power? Hello the city is shaking 😐

Chuuya was boutta use corruption but he got smacked into the 6th dimension before he even blinked HAHA

You're so done with everything. His double suicide offer still stands y'know, it's not that late.

Bet he dragged you into the mersault prison drama

... He's smart as hell, we all know this bitch can prepare for an event that isn't even happening yet in 171919 years

... But ..l did you just ... beat him in a game of chess?

No you ate the chess pieces whenever he blinked

Okay well great- at least the agency has an OP new member that can fucking traverse to another dimension-

If you were abyss princess, he's down on his knees begging you to choke him zaddy can't stay still 😩

Thinks it's hot

If it's in a romantic light, you can take a guess. You both do get rather close – and you're one of the very few he trusts because of how helpful and trustful you are.

It will take some time but he'll show you the reason behind his bandages. You can sense some anxiety in his expression, a vulnerable state for the first time.

But the fact you just accept it? He's over the moon <3

Dazai will not accept from bullshit from other people. Any disrespect directed to you, he's boutta go Dark Era on them so just pray he don't do that unless you want to, simp.

You can tell he'll just ... go over his loneliness all over again when you decide to travel through a new world and leave.

But of course, you assure him you'll return to visit :)

Yay! ✨️

Rest assured you're not gonna let him go through that pain, so if you dare even think of leaving him

I'm sending my homies after you.

JOUNO SAIGIKU:

You'd bet he's a bit skeptical at first, he's not sure whether he can believe a story like that at all 💀

But the thump of your heartbeat begged to differ, because you actually weren't lying. So I guess now he's just kind of curious about your existence. and your powers

As for your beauty this man is blind asf bro what u expect

So even though he has no idea how you look like, he can still bet your gorgeous and he's obviously right.

As per part of the Hunting Dogs, they all have their own individual beliefs on justice. And because you're prone to helping others a lot, he actually appreciates it.

Won't abuse your kindness though, he doesn't really ask for help. Unless they're in an actual dire situation.

Plus you strong asf so 🗿

Although he's busy, both ya'll can take some time for some peace and just chit chat. Honestly, this man wants to know the deets like c'mon spill the tea sis

He's probably interested in whatever you have to say abour Teyvat, especially Fontaine. I can feel it

I mean it's the nation of justice bro what else

Jouno will sit down, listening to your tales about Fontaine and the God of Justice – (he's fucking flabbergasted knowing it was a bratty child who is like shorter than you)

No fr he did not expect that shit 😭

"Also she's really short" "Really now?" "She's like a bratty child who almost got assassinated while playing with cats" "A ... A child?" "Yea and dramatic" "(Y/N), whAT"

This man would probabpy do a double take and question even the existence of Gods. HOO BOY

"... You're telping me the Gods there are broke and et bullied by their own people 24/7" "Yeah"

Let's just say he's now questioning life.

But then again, anything is possible now so he just rolls with it and enjoys his time with you.

Don't tell me he doesn't enjoy lesrning more about your powers and how useful it can really be to the Hunting Dogs.

Once he decided to spar with you, because his patience was wearing thin and he really wanted to know how far the heights of your power could stretch.

He was fairly sure that it wouldn't be an easy win, but he really thought he'd win. Lol.

He was all ready and stuff, slowly unsheathing his sword as you and him clashed ways.

... After that, he promised himself as he was nearly buried six feet under.

Nah most especially if you were the abyss princess because this man literally won't last. He'd actually put up a really good fight, he's strong as hell.

But still, he plummets to the ground like Odasaku.

... Never again, I assume.

ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA:

You and him met when he was running errands after being told forced by Dazai.

Holy shit he looked so tired. He was sweating as he ran back and forth across multiple shops and streets. Being you, you went over to give him a helping hand.

Canonically Atsushi's type is someone kind and patient, so he just was actually rather happy.

Congrats for being friends with the furry 😍

He adores how nice you are for being a helping hand, and he admires your bravery honestly. That shit is what keeps him going on the daily

No but fr you were so PRETTY too. And innocent looking

So imagine he does a fucking 180° when he sees you casually coming into the agency to help them beat up the Port Mafia?? SINGLE HANDEDLY HELLO

He's beginning to rethink everything he thought about you. Ok cool, you travel through worlds, fought God, is strong a–

... Wait a minute 😐

He nearly passed out from the amount of sheer info dump that you gave him. He's beyond shocked.

But also happy you're there to help. He trusts you and just loves everything about you. You're pretty blunt and quiet, but you're courageous and have cute facial expressions.

Chub squishy cheeks uwu

He literally would not ask for anything more. And you have some interesting things to talk about!

Atsushi is intrigued in the types of things you faced and the places you've visited. The fact you're literally bullshitting through and brave enough to face God himself??

You probably went through stuff. He respects you sm.

He's like a little kid all over again, sitting down with his knees to his chest as he listens to you talk about Tevyat.

You'd just be doing something in the far corner like fucking fantasizing on killing Timmie's pigeons again and he's just

Heart face emoji 😍

No matter what you do, Atsushi honestly believes in you and he knows you're of really good help. The agency welcomes you with open arms.

Bro he's just in love leave him be. Furries still need that love and attention bbg

Ngl since abyss princess is more stoic and somewhat intimidating boy is tryna stay away from you lmfao

"Not a second Akutagawa!" bitch 🗿

Yet we all know this man cannot stay away from you. You bet he's right there 24/7, admiring you and protecting you with his life.

Pet him in his tiger form pls 🤲

#bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #genshin #bungou stray dogs #port mafia #armed detective agency #hunting dogs bsd #chuuya headcanons #dazai osamu #bsd #jouno x reader #bsd atsushi #ranpo x reader #bsd ranpo #bsd men x reader #lumine #genshin crossover

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loverhymeswith · 8 months

Text

Spellbound

Day Four of the October Dreams 1K Follower Event

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Witch!OFC

Summary: Polly’s meddling has unintended consequences for Tommy

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Smoking, drinking, language, set around season four but mostly spoiler free

A/N: Dedicated to @a-reader-and-a-writer ❤️

“There’s a woman here to see you, Tom.”

Tommy tears his gaze from the pile of paperwork strewn across the desk to find Lizzie hovering in the doorway. His secretary’s face is a careful mask of indifference as she leans against the wooden frame, but her apparent apathy is belied by the hint of jealousy in her voice.

There’s nothing for her to worry about, Tommy muses to himself, reaching for the half-empty carton of cigarettes resting on the far side of his desk. He doesn’t have any of those appointments booked this evening - or for the foreseeable future. These days, sex is the furthest thing from his mind.

Pushing the paperwork to the side with one hand and lighting his cigarette with the other, he inclines his head. “Send her in then, eh?” Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be so accommodating towards unexpected visitors, but heaven knows he could do with a distraction.

Lizzie nods brusquely and disappears from the doorway before he can ask her to fetch him another packet of cigarettes.

“He says you can go in,” he hears her mutter in a clipped tone.

Choosing not to acknowledge her possessiveness for the time being - that’s another problem for another day - Tommy reclines in his chair and takes a long drag of his cigarette. He exhales heavily and when the smoke clears, he casts his attention over the woman who has taken Lizzie’s place.

Her appearance is unexpected. Striking, even, to say the least. Dressed from head to toe in black, she’s at least a foot shorter than his secretary but just as slight. A headscarf conceals much of her hair, and she appears to be dressed in a riding cloak and long skirts, a far cry from the ever-changing ladies’ fashion he has grown accustomed to in recent years.

Tommy narrows his gaze, trying to place her. It’s unheard of for his mother’s kin to approach him like this; these days, all communication flows through Esmee or Johnny Dogs. A gut feeling tells him this woman is something else entirely.

Seeming to shrink under the weight of his stare, his visitor is the first to break the silence, taking a tentative step forward as she murmurs, “Mr Shelby?”

There’s a note of nervousness in her soft Birmingham accent, which comes as little surprise. Clearly, she knows exactly who she’s dealing with. What he’s capable of. And why wouldn’t she? After all, the Shelby reputation continues to precede him.

Tommy nods, exhaling another cloud of smoke in her direction. “And who might you be?”

“Your aunt Polly sent me,” she answers, choosing to omit her name as she glances around the dimly lit office. “I’m sorry for turning up unannounced but she said it was for the best.”

A familiar sense of irritation prickles within Tommy’s veins as he recalls the particularly contentious conversation he’d had with Polly not two nights ago. It would seem his aunt has finally made good on her threats.

“Come in and close the door,” he barks, stubbing out his cigarette with more force than necessary.

The woman does as he commands, crossing the room until only the large mahogany desk separates them. With the distance between them now halved, he’s taken aback by how young she is, how her skin is unblemished and her hair - thick and dark - threatens to escape from two untidy braids. Her pale blue eyes, currently filled with the hint of trepidation, are lined with kohl.

“So you’re the witch, eh?” He raises his brow, wishing he’d poured himself a whiskey before agreeing to see this woman.

The feeling only intensifies as her striking gaze lingers on him for a beat longer than is comfortable and her voice takes on a more confident edge.

“We don’t like to use that term these days, Mr Shelby.”

“No?” Tommy considers this, pulling out another cigarette from his dwindling supply and rolling it across his bottom lip. “What would you have me call you then?”

The woman’s shoulders lift slightly, apparently unfazed by his churlish response. “Some call us healers.”

“Healers?” he scoffs around the cigarette, the beginning of a headache starting to form. “You think I’m in need of fixing?”

“What I think is irrelevant, Mr Shelby. But Polly seems to think so.”

Polly. Damn that meddlesome woman. One day she’ll realise that some things - some people - are better left broken. And even if he could undo the events of the last five years, there is simply no coming back from what happened in France. There is no coming back from death.

“Polly doesn’t know anything. And you are wasting your time.” He waves his hand towards the door. He has absolutely no intention of entertaining Polly’s fantasies tonight - or ever. “No amount of magic or potions is going to change a bloody thing. So you can leave now.”

Despite his disparaging tone, the woman doesn’t baulk. “She already paid me twenty shillings to come here tonight.”

“Twenty shillings, eh?” He blinks back his surprise. “That’s quite a profit you must be turning. And you didn’t just take the money and run?”

She frowns at the implied insult, her pink lips pursing. “My grandmother taught me better than that. Besides, Polly is a friend of the family.”

“And who is your family?” he wonders aloud. “You’re not one of the Lees.” No, they assuredly would have taken the money and ran.

She shakes her head, her unwavering gaze still trained in his direction. “I’d prefer it if we kept my family out of it, Mr Shelby. As I said, I’m here at your aunt’s behest.”

Unaccustomed to being on the backfoot, Tommy is careful to hide his unease. This woman seems to know him - or his family, at least - but he has absolutely no idea where she has come from.

“Forgive my curiosity,” he mutters around the cigarette, not an ounce of contrition in his tone. “But I usually seek references when doing business. It’s good practice to know who you’re getting into bed with. Do you know Johnny Dogs?”

Her lips curl into a smile. “He offered me his hand in marriage once. My grandmother saw him off with a shotgun. Threatened to put a curse on him if he ever came back.”

“Smart woman, your grandmother.” Despite his misgivings, Tommy gestures for her to take a seat across from him, unable to deny his growing intrigue. He’d wanted a distraction, had he not? “Cigarette?”

She shakes her head, gracefully lowering herself into the spare armchair. “They’re bad for your health.”

“This is Birmingham, sweetheart. Everything is bad for your health. Including” - he points a finger in her direction - “witches.”

In lieu of a response, she smiles again and suddenly he finds himself wishing she’d remove that headscarf. Her face is still partially cast with shadows in the low light; he’d like to see all of her.

“So humour me.” He settles back in his seat and stubs out his second cigarette, both his headache and the desire for whiskey beginning to fade away. “What exactly has Polly paid you to do?” Tommy would be the first to admit that he has a complex relationship when it comes to his family’s faith in fortunes and curses.

“Besides the magic and potions, you mean?” she teases, her ring-clad fingers clasped in her lap.

Fighting the unexpected and somewhat disconcerting urge to smile back, Tommy nods. “Besides the magic and potions.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, Mr Shelby, but it’s bad for business to reveal all my secrets.”

There’s no trace of her initial apprehension as she continues to meet his eye. In fact, she seems to have relaxed in his presence. He can’t decide whether she’s brave or just naive.

“Tommy,” he tells her, taking both of them by surprise. “You can call me Tommy.”

She pauses for a moment, her blue gaze suddenly unreadable, before she replies, “Ok, Tommy.”

Another beat of silence passes between the two of them and there’s a noticeable change in the air as it fills with an electric charge - the portent of a gathering storm.

“You won’t tell me about your family, but it seems only fair I should get your name, eh?” Tommy remarks, offering her an expectant look. The truth is, he wants to keep her talking. Magic and potions be damned.

“Evelyn,” she murmurs, her answer taking him by surprise.

“I knew a girl named Evelyn once,” Tommy tells her, clearing his throat. Deep in the back of his mind, a memory is stirring. A truth, demanding to be revealed. “We called her Evie. Always had flowers in her hair. We played together as children on the banks of the canal. Me, her and Arthur.”

The woman, the witch - Evelyn - shifts in her seat. “What happened to her?”

“War happened,” he tells her, bluntly. “Never saw her again.”

That’s not to say he hadn’t thought about the girl often, although admittedly less so over the years. He’d made a point not to seek her out when he’d returned from France. It was safer to treasure her as a memory than trouble her with the demons that had followed him back to Small Heath.

“But you got to say goodbye.”

It’s less a question than a statement, but Tommy finds himself responding anyway, still grappling with that insistent feeling that he’s forgetting something. “I did.”

“You kissed her,” Evelyn continues solemnly. “At Digbeth Lock. After the summer fair.”

Thrown off balance entirely, Tommy stutters. “I- how did you know that?” He frowns, rubbing a hand across his jaw. Is he under the witch's spell right now?

Slowly, wordlessly, the witch begins to unwrap her headscarf. Tommy watches, spellbound, as her beautiful face finally comes into full view, a thin crown of crimson and ochre flowers resting atop her midnight hair. All of the air leaves his lungs in a single breath.

It can’t be.

“It’s you. It’s fucking you.” He shakes his head, eyes rapidly searching her face as he reconciles the woman before him with the memory of his childhood sweetheart. Evie. How could he have been so blind. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Evelyn clutches her discarded scarf tightly, her eyes now shining bright with unshed tears as she offers him a melancholy smile. “I was told the war had changed you, Tommy. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

Of course he remembered her. Evie. The girl with the flowers in her hair.

Abruptly, he rises to his feet, torn entirely between pouring himself a whiskey and gathering her into his arms.

The truth is, Tommy Shelby has always believed himself to be irrevocably broken. But maybe, just maybe, she could be the one to fix him.

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #cillian murphy fic #October #follower celebration

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fruit-salad-ship · 1 year

Text

eh heh heh heh some dumb teenage ranger antics, because we've mostly had a "gay experience" that was a turning point.

Ranger days would have some fun little moments, the whole dorms having sleep overs that Peach does everything to avoid. She's the unsocialised creature in the mix, and the other students try hard to get her to come sit in the common room with them and play stupid games. They've nabbed a bottle of something boozy, all of 16 just vibing one friday night as a group. Everyone gets along, everyone execpt Peach, who only left her room to get a drink, leaning down into the fridge to her stash of juice.

When she stands back up, everyones looking at her s shes drinking from a carton mindlessly, notably Plum who'd stayed very quiet, sat quite stiffly opposite where she's standing.

"What?" A short sharp bark, not comfortable with the eyes on her. One student points to the bottle on the floor, one end pointing to her, the other end to Plum. Peach has no clue what this is about, not until several other classmates grab her grinning, laughing, joking around in a harmless way, something she's not comfortable with, extremly outnumbered as shes shoved into a closet. She stumbles, turns to try to get out, but the doorway has her rival being pushed inside too, managing to catch herself as the door is shut behind her, this tiny space feeling all the smaller now.

"What the hell is this? Some dumb teenage hazing or?" Peach wasnt even able to keep her juice, someone took it from her in the chaos. Its just them in this stupid storage closet, too close, plums only JUST taller than her, can feel her somewhere close, both trying to stay as far apart as this tiny space allows for. "Its a game, got seven minutes in this place before they let us out." stated matter of factly, folding her arms defencivley. "Whats the point? Sounds like a waste of time, theres nothing to even do in here, why do you people play this junk?"

How was Plum suppose to explain this? The situation was already awful. First theyre paired up in class, teachers thinking they need more time working together to get past their clear rivalry, encouraging teamwork with the threat of failing them if they didnt learn to function as a coherent unit, and now this. "People usually just mess around in here, you know like, make out and stuff. Go figures you dont have a clue, never spent a day with people your own age I swear." She wasnt too far from the truth, waiting for some witty response, getting nothing. In the dark of the closet she struggled to see the shorter ranger trainee, catching just a hint of expression. "Are you...embarrased?" The teasing tone in her voice prompted Peach to snap back quickly. "No!" A clear yes, feeling Peach reach past her for the handle to the door, trying to get free. Course theyd locked it, there was no give at all in her attempts.

This was all too delicious, normally Peach was collected and calm and if anything angry, not at all nervous. Maybe it was the overly sweet super cheap booze she'd been drinking with the others, or the weird need to chase this power trip, but Plum was kind of intrigued. "It's kind of weird seeing you handle something so badly." She took a strategic step forward, close enough for the pair to feel eachothers heat coming off their skin. Peach backed up, tried at least, only finding the back wall and an uneven footing due to a broom she hadnt noticed, the stick of it whacking her in the arm as she struggled to get away, clumsily pushing it off her, trying to figure out a way free. Why not mess with her a bit? Not like there was usually an opportunity for Plum to have the power between them, so just this once she took it.

There was no was she was getting away, finding the little angry form in the dark, one hand on her cheek, Peach totally froze up, no one had been stupid enough to get this close to her physically, she wanted to push back, to shout or do anything that'd gain her some distance but even in the dark as she raised a hand to do so, plum grabbed her wrist, stopped the attempt, instead pulling her closer.

'stop it, stop- get it together, she's just messing with you!' repeatedly thought, a warm cheek against hers that even stopped her trying to pull her caught hand back. "You've never kissed anyone before have you?" The question was so close, breath on her neck, a subtle teasing undertone. "Thats none of your buisness." Another clear answer disguised thinly under a veil of stubborness, something that made Plum smile to herself. "You can just say 'no' like a normal person you know." The power compelled her to get closer, feeling this athletic little body against hers, the pyjamas so painfully Peach, boyish, tank top and shorts in dark colours, never once spotted in a bright tones, the complete contrast to Plum's cute outfit, pastels and frils, silks, cutesy. They couldnt be more opposite.

"Good luck forgetting who took that first from you then." No hesitation, Plum made sure there was no room for a fight, Peach was already unbalanced where she stood, one arm caught, the other trying to keep herself propped up as she was pushed back against the wall with surprising force. The lips that found hers in the dark were soft and gentle, a weird feeling she's not experienced before, too busy working towards the goals laid out by her family, no time for this kind of messing about. Normal teenager junk, not something she had room for.

God she wished she had more room for it.

By the time the pair left the closet, Plum didnt even see her little team mate, laughing with her friends, turning to see Peach already gone off up the hallway back to her room at speed. The brief peak she took over her shoulder upon turning into her dorm revealed a serious blush, something Plum revelled in, a small, perhaps unfair win.

Was it coincidence that Peach was oddly quiet in class after that? Perhaps, but at least they seemed to argue a little less over the small things. Tension however only grew between them. Plum enjoyed the power, and Peach was suddenly very aware of a new aspect of herself she'd never had the chance to consider.

#fruit salad #ranger days #these lil baby gays figuring their shit out is everything

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corruptive-sinner · 4 months

Text

Rough Time

Warning CnC

non-consensual drug use too

but the priest is so highkey into and this is fantasy, you little sinner 😘

Smog filled the air, thick skunky clouds filled the room the priest sat. it was long after hours and no one was here this time at night besides him. Still in my "Sunday best" I would say too.

~A mouth watering sight to a certain demon. unbeknownst to the priest.

I let out a cough, both in shock and the sudden lack of clean air, the basement office had always been a stuffy place without the sudden smoke. Had the church been burning?

I get up to escape when a firm object stops me, slamming into my chest, flat like someone had held out a hand. I stumble back falling down, fear and confusion clouding my already scattered mind.

A presence enters through the smoke, starting out as a cloudy black blob, two long protrusions seen sticking out of its head, but when it steps through it appears a regular human, with blackened eyes staring down at me, a masculine person smiling wickedly.

I freeze, looking up, helpless. Praying for God to save me, give me strength to battle this demon.

"Calm down Father, there's no fire. Just something to calm your nerves," he says, smoke escaping out of his mouth as he does. Leans down, grabs my shirt and yanks me upwards, "you're cute when your scared, Father~"

I struggle and he releases instantly, I am pinned against my desk, he blocks the door, the door I can't even see if its open or not, the lights dimming and flickering from his presence. he strides forward. A smooth confidence, I asses his features,

A shorter man than I previously thought, I only 5'9 he seemed 5'6ish, but strong, as proved seconds ago. His hair is a vibrant red, one on a normal day would assume dye of some sort, but demons can look like anything I have been taught. He normal fine clothes, wait-

I know him, he was here today,

"There you go, you remember me." He smiled, closing the gap between us and pressing my hips to his. Those same black denim pants topped with a black shirt and dark flannel made him blend in perfectly around these parts of town.

I didn't fight him. This didn't feel wrong, and that doesn't feel right but,

"That's right, deep breathes, hehe,"

I couldn't help but breathe in the smoke, burning my lungs. Making me cough painfully. As quick as I felt panic I relaxed, the pain dulled, it got easier to just breathe again.

Oh, it's weed, that disgusting aroma should have tipped me off. I also smelled it vaguely on him, earlier after the sermon, he leaned in and said

"You're handsome for a sheep."

I hadn't understood, but now, his leg inching mine apart, the world getting fuzzy, a giggle comes from my throat.

He looks at me, with those haunting eyes he has. He was quite handsome, it made me completely disregard any threat, i blamed old nerves from when I was a teen. Sneaking out to kiss the boys in our boarding home. Someone brought weed once, I always wished I had just tried it. It is as nice as they said.

"Relaxed yet?"

"Mhm, you're handsome,"

"As are you, so proud and pretty like a bird doing a mating dance, maybe you're an angel eh? Hehe." He inched his face closer to mine, I could almost feel his stubble. His strong hands planted me against my desk, pinned, like prey. I should be scared, fighting back, but like the boys said back then, just blame the weed. Maybe I will.

I leaned down to bridge the gap, capturing his lips, desperately pushing against his strong body. He pushed me back against the desk roughly. I let out the smallest moan but he hears it,

"Atta boy, enjoying yourself aren't you?" He breathed into my ear, low and gravelly.

My blood was hot, my head was clouds. My dick was painfully constricted to my pants. I could feel the precum gathering from the tip. I moaned into his shoulder when his hand grazed the front of my pants.

"Someone feeling a little neglected? Just let me take care of you." he says that like I have any choice, I don't need a choice, i want him to do whatever he wants to me.

"Good Father," he moans into my ear as his hands slip into my pants freeing my dick. The sudden colder air and rough hand makes me jerk primitively.

"Calm down, there's no need to rush, we have all night~"

That thought makes me moan, he just laughs slightly, giving me a tender kiss as he begins pumping his hand, I white knuckle the table to contain myself, to last at least a few minutes.

His togue prods my lips and I let him in instantly, he's rough but gives my opportunities to explore him as well, I take those with full vigor feeling his fangs with my tongue. Becoming a moaning mess in the process when I taste some of my own blood.

My garbled mind straining to form thoughts besides this overwhelming pleasure radiating throughout my body, his hand providing a steady firm rhythm, his tongue in my mouth, his other hand sinking claws into my waist as he holds me.

His hand releases and I whine pathetically for it to return,

"Easy Father," He whispers giving a final kiss before lowering to his knees, a devilish smirk giving me a jolt. He takes my member and licks whorishly at the head, collecting a large amount of precum on his tongue, showing me before taking the rest smoothly down.

I can't pretend to hold back my moans, his horns grow from the smog and I take them to hold. They feel like somewhat smoother goats horns I note, but anything more coherent would not return to me until much later. I was lost in pleasure.

The demon's mouth was hot, wet, and though he had fangs I never felt them until he teased me by grazing them on the sensitive spots he discovered by judging the intensity of my moans. Just as I began to edge closer to finishing he abruptly pulled away.

I whimper pathetically at him. He just laughs, again. Mocking asshole. He's the one who wants this, me.

The demon stands up, twits me arounds and slams me onto my own desk, the breathe knocked out of me, but instead of pain it'd all numb tingling throughout my body. My pants are inched down and the realization of what he's about to do makes me moan like a real whore.

"I knew you had it in you~" He chides leaning down on top of me, whispering in my ear.

My bare ass felt exposed, there was a pressure in my, rear. And I don't hate it, that thought should disgust me, but I've never felt so good or wanted something so bad. He pushed slowly inside of me, the tingling was intense but all I could do was moan. Fuck I want him to start moving.

"Eager are we? Alright." he says as he bottoms me out, a shrill gagged moan escaped me. and before I could adjust he started pumping in and out at a steady, unrelenting pace. I was overfilled with pleasure it made my head ring, blocking out most noises to a faint dull, just focusing on the pleasure and getting lost being used like this. My climax came creeping up again, he started pumping faster, the movement making my old desk creak with the strain of both our bodies. The heat of his body pressing into mine as he came in me pushed me over the edge, it burned in a way I never wanted to end.

He slowly pulled out, I'm still leaned over my desk as I hear him redress.

"Lets do this again sometime, Father."

And with that the strange demon, and his smoke, and the effects of the smoke are gone. The slow sobering mixed with the cooling cum, but shame heating up my chest. But, I will be looking for him in my next sermon.

#heirophilia #priest kink #blasphemy kink #corruption kink #religion kink #sinner kink #heiro #blasphemy #cnc k!nk #heirophile

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necrophilemagpie · 6 months

Text

What I love about nonhumans that get to choose what their designated human interaction form looks like, or get to choose their physical form, is that certain appearance choices inadvertently imply they're a little bit of a freak

Like, we all love Alucard's multiple lanky weirdo forms of course, especially how it compares to what we know he looked like as a human man. Like him smoothing right over a bunch of the stuff that made him look specific in life in his is default form, whatever he was doing in rio compared to that. We love whatever the fuck the thought process is behind girlycard because none of these are normal decisions. A person Normal about his body or appearance doesn't do that.

I absolutely adore Seras's emo little situation too it's fun. Let's go whole fucked up arm wing thing love it for her. I feel like there was a missed opportunity to give her a fun appearance post-timeskip but at the same time, the decision to not change anything in 30 years is also Deranged.

Yet when a character looks Normal and you distinctly know they Don't Have To that's like, that is undisputably freak behavior.

Like, looking at my funny dragon OC too. Those are weirdly specific choices to make. They weren't ever really human they didn't have a baseline appearance to fall back on at all and needed to make one.

So the fact that they Actively Chose to be a pointedly normal human height and Manually Put Wrinkles On Their Face, and then still went with visibly nonhuman eyes says a lot about them as a character I think. Mostly that they're a fucking weirdo. Why are they 5'5 like willingly.

Like sure, Alucard is freakishly tall but like, wanting to be the tallest person in the room is easy to understand. But 5'5? It's such a weird spot since it's shorter than 'exactly average' but taller than 'look at me I'm short because I want to be cute or something' why did you do that you weird magic snake.

Especially since with how they work any appearance change is gradual and therefore needs notable commitment to the idea. They really said and went yeah I want to look older.

I don't know I just like how the way a character presents their appearance Already implies a long series of little decisions, and with being able to change more major elements it can let you read a character for Filth from even just inferring things from character design and story context it's great

Like, obviously realistically some design decisions in real life were down to 'eh the artist felt like it' but it's great for transformative media purposes

#necrowriting #hellsing oc #alucard hellsing #seras victoria #hellsing ultimate #dragonshapedpuzzlebox #im a little delirious from the ol low blood pressure so apologies if this doesn't cohere

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yuraslefttoe · 6 months

Note

hey, it's me again! I came to pester you with questions!! *there should be a scary laugh, but it sounds more like mean giggles*

(by the way, I’m thinking about sending you such long texts with questions (because I have a lot of them!!) once one or two weeks, if you don’t mind. . . . . . .you don't mind..??? (god, I hope you don’t get tired of me..!) I'm so sorry, please, I'm just very interested!! *qwq*)

ok, let's start with the sweetest part, prelude. ACTUALLY, I DIDN'T EXPECT THAT YOU REPLY SO QUICKLY, GOD, NOT PASSED A FEW HOURS!!!!!! I THOUGHT YOU HAD TOO MANY QUESTIONS SO I DID NOT EXPECT A SO SOON REPLY!!

I’ll remind you once again how much I adore your work (after all, you deserve it!!), and I’ll also say that I specifically shouldn’t talk about posts tagged with the adm, because I’ve read your tumblr and twitter in its entirety several times, I even have a separate album in my gallery with answers that particularly interested me, there are several hundred screenshots there and I don’t regret anything! (sorry if my hyperfixation may be intimidating!!)

*=^._.^= ∫*

and now the questions!!!!

1. my wife doesn’t have a tumblr, but her suggestion interested me and can be seen in the first two screenshots(the translation sounds like: “after the release of “red hour” I have an assumption that andrey is more... athletic than misha. either this is because of ferry’s drawing style, or he really has such wide shoulders")so now we are interested to know about the physique of your characters!! maybe some of them are thin, or vice versa, a little overweight. and what about physical training? did you have any headcanons for this??? ( by the way, when I ask about “characters” I mean not only misha and andrey, but also europe and maya, because they are also worthy of attention <зз)

2. what about the abbreviation "dyusha" for andrey? in russian it is... not used very often, but still, it sounds very cute. so it would be interesting to know how you would feel about this? 3. I also want to hear about the names of the characters!! how did you choose them? I mean........ how did it happen that from ☺europa☺ you switched to 👹MiKhAiL👹?? (I'M SO SORRY, BUT MISHA'S FULL NAME SOUNDS SOMETHING THREATENING. MY UNCLE'S DOG HAS THE SAME NAME EHE- *ᕕ(ಥ▽ಥ)ᕗ*)

4. and lastly, let's return to my wife for another moment. she suggested that andrey was now also in a time loop. what do you say about that? and also in enigma, she noticed that misha seemed to be addressing the second person in the lines: "and if you wanted to be anything more than just free" and "you’ve seen a hundred lies I see that all the time". is this second person a viewer? or maybe one of the previously mentioned characters??

the last photo, by the way, is one of the sketches that I found so far in my gallery! ^^

initially it was planned to attach two sketches, but andrey turned out TOO bad, I’m ashamed to show him. someday I'll redraw it into something normal.... maybe. but! I really like the pic with misha and the wolf(I hope this is the wolf you were talking about lol. google didn’t show me anything else, and I’ve never been to ikea myself, ehe...)

(and I don’t want to post all this yet, because running a tumblr was certainly not part of my plans, haha)) I registered here solely to read your blog, and not to maintain my own)

sorry again for possible illiteracy, and also for the chaotic nature of my thoughts, haha, I don’t know how to adequately express them in english.. and also, I’m really REALLY apologize that the text was too long, next time I’ll try to be shorter...

okay im gonna try and answer everything here in a coherent way so sorry if nothing makes sense

im just fine with lotes of questions :) answering asks and responding to comments is one of my favorite things ever and i brings a verry big smile to my face

on andrei: i consider him to be a skinny little gut but not exactly unathletic, and in addition i think he would have basic combat training and probably be good with firearms. misha is probably a very average bodytype, nothing special, not particularly athletic.

i do not speak russian (though ferry has recently encouraged me to learn so maybe in like four years ill be able to form a sentence) so i dont know anything about the short forms so you can do whatever you want. if you coin it and peoples tart calling him that i will not stop it from happening

i do not name my characters, i usually let me friends name them (i think that the only one i named was europa and his partner). going forward maybe ill try to make it more cohesive

the time loop idea im seeing thrown around alot is really cool and while i havent particularly wrote any of my songs about that in general i see it fitting into the loose narrative i have going on. also in enigma misha is definitely talking to andrei whenever he says the word "you" but it could also be to the listener because the entire theme of enigma is 4th wall breaking and meta shenanigans like that

that sketch is SO CUTE oh my god

#asks #adm #misha #andrei #deepest lore

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phobia-sweets · 1 year

Note

This is my first request and I hope I am doing it right!!

Can you do any version (if you can TNBA but any is fine) of Jonathan Crane with prompt 10? (“Did you just fucking bite me?”) Where S/O just randomly bites Jonathan because he was panicking (for whatever reason). And it takes him out of his panic because wtf and S/O kind of just shrugs it off and asks if he is still panicked.

-🦷👁🧠

For the record, I still haven't watched TNBA but i've seen clips of that version so i'm going off of that so it might be OOC. also slipped in 2 more versions of scarecrow since they ended up shorter than initially planned :D

TNBA, BTAS & BTAA Scarecrow x reader

"Did you just fucking bite me?"

Warnings & Notes: Eh might be OOC idk it's 2am rn not proofread

TNBA

“The batch is now entirely wasted. ”He sighed, paying you no mind as he walked past you. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted them with shipping the containers – It was bound to end in disaster.” He was always calm. Even now, after whatever the hell happened with his henchmen – It was in his nature. Never could lose his cool or be caught by surprise. You could tell, though. He was frustrated – maybe even a little bit panicked about it. He had a deadline to reach, and making the needed amount of toxin would take time.

The easiest way to ease his stress was usually just talking with him – a way of distraction. Occasionally a horror movie helped. But the way he was rambling in his always so… calm voice, getting to say something between his words without interruptin him was going to be a challenge. So, getting his attention without talking was the best course of action.

You waited for him to walk by you, and bit his arm. He continued walking for a few steps, until he stopped, and turned around to look at you slowly.

“Did you… just bite me?” He asks, head tilted to the side ever so slightly. You confirm with a hum, looking up at him. “...Why?” He asked, a confused tone in his voice.

“You were panicked.” You stated, watching as the confusion only got more visible in him.

“And you decided that biting me would help?”

“Are you still panicked?” You asked, and he hummed in thought.

He looked right at you, Answering, “I suppose not. As much as I’d like not to admit it, you caught me by surprise.”

BTAS

disheveled.

That was the best way to describe Jonathan’s state currently – hay peeking out from under his clothes and hair, scythe in two large pieces. You tilted your head at him, confused. “...You alright there? What happened?”

“The bat!” He yelled, “He humiliated me! Me! The scarecrow!”

Allright, so he was in one of his ranting moods. You didn’t mind – you’d listen to him. You needed to get rid of all that hay first though. Only problem was actually getting to do that -He’d already started, getting him to stop would be difficult. Unless…

You stood up from your chair, walking behind him while he was turned away from you. He slightly jumped when your teeth met the fabric covering his shoulder. “What are you-” He turned, looking at you with his wide eyes. “Did you just-” He sputtered, “Bite me?”

“Yup!” You confirmed. “Need to get all the hay out of your clothes ‘nd hair.” You replied, smiling at his wide eyes as if biting him was a normal way to get his attention. “I mean, you were upset, and didn’t want to interrupt by speaking on top of you so…”

“Well, you did get my attention.”

“Exactly, so it worked!” you chimed, picking up some hay from his hair. “Anyhow, Go sit on the couch, I’ll help you get all the hay out.”

THE AUDIO ADVENTURES

“Oi, Don’t take the expensive stuff yet! Get the cheap stuff, for god’s sake!”

“And you, you, where’s the cop? What do you mean ‘you don’t know’? He tried to rat me out! Yeah, that guy! Put the collar on him!”

Yeah, Jonathan was an intelligent person, But god was he insufferable sometimes. You didn’t know what the fuck had him so… frustrated today, but it was getting tiring. Sighing, you walked inside the room where he was, mask on and shuffling through countless papers – shipment info, perhaps? You walked closer to him, stopping a few feet behind him. Would he snap at you? Possibly. Would he gas you? Probably not. Thinking through your options, you decided that fuck it, walked up to him and bit his shoulder. He turned to face you so quickly you were surprised he didn’t get whiplash.

“Did you just fucking bite me?” He asked, surprised from your sudden… affection? He sounded almost offended, if you were being honest.

“Yes?” You looked at his burlap-covered face, smiling innocently.

“Why are you acting like that’s a normal course of action to do?”

“you’re not exactly the best person to lecture me about normalcy” You walked next to him, leaning on the table. “Anyhow, What’s up? You’re usually pretty… Cheery. What’s made you so bitchy today?”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you just called me a bitch-”

“Thanks.”

“And- can you not talk over me? Thank you. Anyway, this cop...”

#🦷👁🧠#btas scarecrow x reader #tnba scarecrow x reader #BTAA Scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader

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scribbaly · 7 months

Text

Holding Out

fandom: wwdits, Nandor x Guillermo

an: oh boy this idea hit me and i finally wrote it down. also first fic on this blog!! im def open to feedback, i want to get better, i just ask for kindness <3

Guillermo wasn’t one to ask too many questions about every escapade Nadja and Laszlo got up to, but the sitting room was almost destroyed. He looked in awe at the mess of cushions, books, torn paper, and akimbo furniture as Laszlo ushered the familiar towards the disaster.

“Be a good lad and tidy this up, eh Gizmo?” He drawled, patting Guillermo on the shoulder before sauntering upstairs. Guillermo groaned and got to work, adjusting the flipped couch and picking up debris from the broken side table.

It didn’t take him nearly as long as he thought it would and all he really had left to tackle at this point was the shelves of books and knickknacks artifacts. Quite a few had been knocked loose and he was putting them back where they belonged. A couple of the top shelves were just out of his reach so Guillermo used one of the tables to give himself a boost, he could feel it teetering under his weight from one of the legs being shorter than the rest (due to a separate incident). He leaned forward onto his tiptoes to place some sort of chalice back where it belonged when the table lurched and Guillermo could feel gravity working against him as he tumbled back and fell.

Guillermo anticipated the hardness of the floor but was met with a torso and was cradled by someone’s arms. He tilted his head up and saw the quizzical expression of Nandor.

“Nice catch, Master.” Guillermo said with a bashful smile.

Nandor scoffed, helping Guillermo down, “You must be more careful, Guillermo…” Guillermo brightened.

“If you die, who will iron my capes?”

Guillermo frowned. Moment over.

The familiar straightened his glasses as his Master looked him over. “Sorry. I’ve just got to put the rest of this back. Nadja and Laszlo really tore up the place.”

“So I heard.” Nandor said with a smirk that threatened to send a blush creeping over Guillermo’s cheeks. “Well, don’t let me keep you.” He continued, making a shooing motion toward his familiar.

Guillermo rolled his eyes before looking back at his makeshift step stool. “Actually Master, do you think you could give me a lift? It would make this a lot easier.”

Nandor looked aghast, “Now what would be the point of having a familiar if I have to do the work?”

“You’ve lifted me to fly plenty of times, this isn’t any more than that. I just need a boost.”

Nandor grumbled and let out a “fucking guy” under his breath as he reached for Guillermo.

Nandor’s touches were never gentle. He wasn’t rough with Guillermo, but his movements were usually pretty stiff. So it totally took Guillermo by surprise when he felt the vampire's hands latch on to his hips and curl his fingers for purchase. He yelped and Nandor immediately let go. The familiar instinctively wrapped his arms around his chest and took a step back, the back of his leg hitting the table. Nandor looked him over quickly, concern on his face. “Guillermo, I know you’re a weak little human but I didn’t think I grabbed that hard. Did I hurt you?”

Guillermo shook his head and batted away one of Nandor’s hands as he reached for the same spot. “No! No, sir. It’s just- I’m- It tickled, that’s all.” Nandors eyes snapped up to look into Guillermo’s, his look of concern morphing into a look of playfulness at the mention of the word.

“Tickled? Guillermo, have you been holding out on us?” He smirked, causing Guillermo to gulp and butterflies stir up in his stomach at the hunger in Nandor’s eyes.

What the vampires got up to in this house wasn’t a secret, and Guillermo had to clean up the little playroom they had plenty of times. And he couldn’t blame them, branching out and trying new things seemed normal for an immortal. One of the things they had fun with was tickling each other. Sometimes light and playful, other times for hours on end. Guillermo couldn’t deny his jealousy but he’d never ask to participate.

Standing here now with Nandor crowding into his space, Guillermo couldn’t help feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement. “Y-you never asked.” He countered, a smile already tugging on the corner of his mouth.

Nandor 'tsked' and reached forward quicker than Guillermo anticipated and latched back on to his hips, squeezing gently, Guillermo barked out a surprised laugh before it teetered out into a stream of giggles as he wriggled from side to side, trying to disarm Nandor.

The vampire grinned, his fangs poking over his bottom lip. “Guillermo! I am barely touching you. Is this one of your bad spots, hm?” He squeezed at his familiar’s hips in rapid succession causing Guillermo’s laughter to jump up into a cackle and had him folding in on himself like a pill bug. Nandor used his momentum to gently toss Guillermo onto the couch and straddled him with one leg, using one hand to gather up Guillermo’s arms and pin them to the arm of the couch.

Guillermo caught his breath, giggles still slipping between his lips. His giddy smile didn’t disappear as Nandor loomed over him with a grin that made Guillermo’s heart flip and sink simultaneously.

“Where else are you ticklish?”

#wwdits fic #wwdits tickle fic #ticklish!guillermo #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #wwdits #my fic

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