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frogchiro · 1 year

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HELLO LOVELIES!! due to popular demand I present to you this, a kinda 2 part to this baby. I wanted to thank you for the overwhelming love that little brain rot got so I'm writing something extra ^^ While this may not be a direct continuation it's set in the exact same universe and everything so you can read is as a stand alone another part of perverted nasty Ghost (and a guest!) or a continuation of other nasty shenanigans that Si would do to his little hacker girl :(

fem!reader, nsfw, nasty perv Ghost and a special guest, can be read as kinda dark? nothing hardcore it's just implied that Simon is terribly possessive bordering on obsessed and he has dark-ish tendencies so be careful!

That being said, nasty perv Ghost who's almost buzzing with barely repressed anger, almost snarling, teeth baring beneath his mask. He's standing on the sidelines of the mattress laid out on the gym floor as he watches Price go at you almost like a wild animal, grabbing and tossing you around like you're a rag doll, ultimately pinning you down to the floor with his massive body with your hand behind your back and laid out on your tummy, all tired out and panting with Price leaning down to your ear and growling something to you that made you let out a pathetic keen.

Simon didn't hear what the captain said to you but judging by your facial expression it must have been something suggestive; nasty and perverted and delivered in that deep growly rumble of Price's voice.

The blonde man knew that this whole 'compulsory hand to hand combat training' was a load of bullshit, it always was. It was organized a few times a year when the higher ups insisted and there was no way out. It was usually terribly boring, just a load of loud and sweaty men tumbling like beasts while screaming at each other and a few hot-shots who showed of like peacocks.

Except that this time there was a new addition to this mess, little old you. The new hacker of 141, the young lady who always dressed nicely, nails always manicured and smelling oh so deliciously with your perfumes. Since you're technically not a soldier Ghost thought that you'd be spared from the training but apparently he was very wrong and he hated it. He could see how flustered you were earlier, how small and soft you were in the presence of all these big hardened soldiers. He could see that you were nervous and he didn't exactly blame you therefore he decided that he would be the perfect match for you for training; it would be a win win situation!

He'd treat you as gently as he could so you wouldn't have bruises and aches from a rough treatment, and him on the other hand would have jerk off material for the next month. He could almost taste it, taste you. How he'd press you against him, how his big scarred hands would be able to run over your soft body all he wanted under the guise of training. How his big sweaty body would rub against you, his musk rubbing off on you and making you smell like him, like Ghost; a primal way of marking you. How he'd listen to all you little whines and mewls when he'd grab you too roughly and how you'd be able to feel his hard cock press against your ass as he mounted you from behind to press you into the exact position as you were now. Except it wasn't him who had you caged in his grip, it was fucking Price.

That fucker snatched you right from under his nose. Literally. Simon was just about to go up to you when suddenly Price appeared seemingly out of thin air and swooped it to basically tell you that you're gonna be his sparing partner, not even asking, he was stating a fact and since he was your captain you couldn't really say no right? :(

As John was leading you away from a growling Simon he could swear that the older man turned slightly to him and gave him a smug look that said 'better luck next time son, she's mine' and what made his teeth grit even more that he could perfectly hear these words in John's smooth growly drawl.

He's very well aware that Price has the hots for you, that dirty old pervert. He caught him looking at you more than once now, his gray blue eyes following you like a predator watching his prey, how whenever you stopped by his office to deliver some new intel or paperwork Price's voice suddenly dropped a few octaves into a deep, hot and enticing drawl that made you stutter and goosebumps appear on your skin. Also Simon heard Price going at it in his office, jerking off or doing god knows what and growling your name, or the occasional pair of your (stolen) panties peeking out from a drawer, the delicate pink material stained white with John's seed. His naturally possessive character getting amped up whenever you're with them on a mission or even in the same vicinity, any soldier who has the balls to talk or even flirt with you getting swiftly removed and ordered to run 30 laps around training grounds.

And now Ghost lost to that old perverted fuck and he will have to endure his smug commentary about how nice your soft body felt under him, how your delicious ass pressed against his cock and how you whimpered in confusion as you felt your captain grind against you and growl into your ear to 'be a good girl and get a feel of your captain, feel what will be breeding you later' and you couldn't help but whine and wiggle around a bit, you were so hot and so embarrassed, pinned under your captain with all those men watching you with heavy eyes :((

You soon stopped your wiggling and just laid there under the heavy man, his panting and growls rumbling against your back as you got a bit intoxicated on his heavy musky scent, pure masculinity and dominance oozing out of him and rubbing off on you.

You started to wonder if he'd truly keep his promise up and take you with him later, lock you in his bedroom and ravish you, breed you good with his babies :(

#kin speaks #damn #i'm thinking on making a whole series with perverted 141 ;;#like 141 plus graves #los vaqueros #and konig #bc the brain rot is real and I love writing about musky nasty men ;;#pervy!141 #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john price

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stargirlrchive · 7 months

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── KINKTOBER DAY EIGHT

breath play w/ könig ─ reader

NSFW ✩ MINORS DNI

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST ✩ GENERAL MASTERLIST

könig’s fingers traced down the expanse of your throat, gently tightening his hold as your face hung down the edge of the bed, “just remember, schatz. two taps to my wrist and i’ll pull back, ja?”

you nodded up at him, the same excited glint in your eyes still bright as he leaned forward. your tongue stuck out as he tapped the tip of his cock on your tongue. messily smearing the beads of come over your lips as he grunted quietly.

his other hand made its way to your cunt, running his fingers through your slick folds and sinking one finger into your tight heat. a soft whine fell from your mouth as you looked at him pleadingly.

in the next instant, könig was filling your mouth with his cock. your heart rate thrumming in your chest as you tightened around his finger.

he laughed quietly, one that rumbled through his chest as he began to thrust his finger in and out of you. “you like that, liebling? like when i stuff you full of my cock?”

you couldn’t answer, at least not verbally, but the tight pulse of your cunt answered him all the same.

his hips slowly began to snap forward, each time lasting a bit longer down your throat, forcing your air flow to cut off. drool gently pooled against the sides of your mouth, dribbling down your chin messily.

he eased a second finger into you, and you squirmed under him, all your moans and mewls repressed from the constant thrust of his hips.

the lack of oxygen made everything feel so much more intense, your thighs trying to close around his hand as he grunted quietly, forcing you to keep them open, “how are you feeling, baby?”

your fingers tapped once at his wrist, and he smiled down at you. his cock pulsing from the constant warmth and tightness of your throat.

the both of you began to tether on the edge, you more so as your eyes watered with desperation and anticipation. when your orgasm finally hit, your thighs clenched tightly around his hand. followed by könig pushing his cock down your throat and staying there.

he could feel the ripples of your climax intensify tenfold. your body trembling beneath his as your eyes rolled back.

“you’re doing so good, schatz. oh fuck.”

könig felt the first spurts of come shoot out from his cock and only then did he pull back. your breathing ragged and heavy and he shot his thick ropes of come into your mouth.

“fuck, baby.”

he helped you sit up, his fingers massaging your throat as you rasped out hazily. “i liked it.”

he kissed you lazily, rolling his tongue into your mouth as he hummed. “i could tell, engel. you came so hard.”

taglist: @trashfox @king-julian6201 @cyberfreaky @tojisun @lazystorycollector @cosmicanakin @yeoldedumbslut @httpsmama @punk-22 @youcraveet @moxiz @hisa-plush @alastairheir @ra-im @ifellinthebong @darlingvinny @aeplern @tallmanlover @screamingoverfiction @mixling-blog @pretty-npeach @babygirl-riley ; lmk if you would like to be tagged <3

#konig x reader #konig x reader smut #konig x female reader #call of duty #cod #cod smut #call of duty smut #kinktober #STARGIRLRCHIVE — KINKTOBER

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physical-manifestation-of-spite · 30 days

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I keep thinking about Arthur's regression at the end of Season 2 and then into Season 3. I keep thinking about how victims of trauma tend to get worse once they escape their traumatic situation. How their body and mind start to crack and shake under the weight of the horrors, now safe enough to escape the survivorship mindset but now forced to endure the fallout.

I keep thinking of how hard Faroe's death hit Arthur. How his guilt and grief were so intense that he wanted to kill himself, so low that he drank himself into a stupor for who knows how many years to just dull the pain. I keep imagining how hard it was to pull himself out of that, to work with Parker and find a new meaning in life, to walk away from his guilt of killing his daughter, and instead to help people.

(I keep thinking of how Arthur finds a vial of alcohol in the Dreamlands. How he sniffs it and recoils in disgust.)

I keep thinking of how long it took for Arthur to build himself back up from his lowest point, to tuck the guilt of Faroe in the deepest corner of his mind just so that he has enough room to breathe, to live, to be a better person. (And yet, Faroe is every facet of his life. It's his first memory in Season One, when he plays Faroe's Song, when he doesn't even remember his own name. It's the last name on his lips when he dies on that boat. It's his only memory when John is torn away from him.) I keep thinking about how Arthur is consciously repressing her every second of every day just so that he can keep going.

And then John pushes, and asks, and asks again. And finally, after almost dying twice with this entity, after surviving time and time again, he thinks he can trust him. He thinks he can share his deepest secret, to pull open the wound he keeps stitching over to protect himself. How he risks feeling the grief he's suppressed for years to trust someone. I keep thinking how John seizes it and, because he is ancient and young and inexperienced, childlike in his tantrums and his fears of responsibility and consequence, he uses it as a weapon the moment he's backed into a corner. I keep thinking of how not only the trust is torn away from Arthur, but how his wound is stretched and torn, and not only does his guilt and grief come back, but it's like a tidal wave that he cannot suppress this time. He's opened that wound and John has pried it wider, and now Arthur can't shut it. He survives in those pits, but she is all he thinks of. He escapes those pits, and ("Goodbye, Faroe.") she is all he thinks of. He slits his throat and she's all he thinks of.

He enters at icy cabin (a small gurgle, a bundle of blankets in his arm, a warm hum rumbling in his chest as he lulls his whole World to sleep) and he thinks of her to keep going.

And then Yellow enters, a blank slate, a John before he was John, and the pain is too fresh. This is the thing that tortured him. This is the thing that starved him. This is the thing who asked who his daughter was, and when he told him, the thing called him a killer. John and Yellow and the King are all the same in that moment, and Arthur's too fucked up and traumatized to separate them tangibly, as much as he insists that he can. His hatred grows and grows, all from himself, until it bleeds into Yellow, and he remakes this entity in his image, in his self-pitying hatred.

So when Yellow finally calls him a monster (and Arthur knows, he's called himself that the moment he saw the water spill from the bathtub onto the tile below), Arthur holds it close to his chest, and becomes it.

#fuck twitter's limited character amount #so i came here #season three has actually fucked me up #i genuinely thought season three would be my least favorite season when I first listened to it because I was still grieving over john #and then it became my favorite #it's such a great look into ptsd #malevolent #spiteful musings #meta analysis #malevolent podcast #arthur lester #john doe #malevolent john

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forgeofthenine · 7 months

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Nsfw headcanons about Dammons tail

As requested, the nsfw sequel to my other list of tail headcanons. This still isn't even all the ideas I have about this mans tail so I might end up doing a part three at some point. Entirely gender neutral terms are used, as usual.

TW: light bondage, is tail sucking something I need to warn about?

You can't tell me this man doesn't have such a dirty mind, anyone that's explored his bedroom in his baldurs gate forge knows exactly what I'm getting at. Dammon is majorly repressed and what's a better cure than his wonderful partner :)

He's all lean muscle from his work as a blacksmith and his tail is no different, all muscle and nerves. His tail and horns are definitely erogenous zones and you'd better use that to your advantage.

In saying all that, him binding you with his tail. That's it, that's the post.

Just imagine, his hand on the middle of your back pressing your chest into the bed, and his tail moving to wrap around your ankle and pull it so your legs open more for him. Dammon using it like a third hand to tug and bend and shift you exactly how he wants, displayed beautifully for him on your shared bed.

The way he could use it to hold your wrists together behind your back, leaving both his hands free to roam over your body instead. There's no need for rope or handcuffs with this man around, his tail does it all and is much better.

Do you remember what I said about it being an erogenous zone? Suck his tail. When you want to see him melt, or even just tease him a bit, lick the pointed tip of his tail before taking it between your lips. Look him in the eyes as you do it and he might just die right then and there.

Just don't blame him if you work him up until he's thrusting it down your throat. What did you expect after teasing him that much?

He loves seeing his partner taking his tail so well, being so good for him and making him feel so good, I can see him picking tail play over blowjobs depending on his mood on any given day.

Dammon would love tail grinding and teasing you with his tail. Him helping you straddle his tail, maybe he lays it over his thigh and helps hold you up, hands pulling on your hips as you press down against the warm muscle. The way it shifts against you, pressing up slightly as you roll your hips. Don't forget the sweet noises Dammon makes, low groans under his breath, cut off whimpers, a low purr that rumbles through his chest.

He teases you too, comming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your middle, crowding you against a counter or a bookshelf, maybe even his own anvil once he's cleaned up at the end of the day. You know exactly where his mind is as soon as you feel his tail tracing up your body, slipping around your thigh and pressing up and in between your legs. Foreplay some days is this man's hands on your chest, his tail pressed between your legs for you to grind on, his own hips pressing forward into your ass, and his hellishly hot breath ghosting over your throat as he pants.

#i started writing this while waiting for food at Carl's Jr whoops #baldurs gate 3 dammon #baldurs gate 3 smut #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 dammon #bg3 smut #dammon x tav #dammon x reader #bg3 tiefling #bg3 x you #bg3 x male reader #bg3 x reader smut #baldurs gate 3 x reader

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fanaticsnail · 4 months

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When You Had The Chance

Masterlist Here.

Word Count: 3,830

Plot: Serving as first mate to the Buggy-Pirates, it was your job to keep your captain grounded and uplifted. When tempers flared, he decided to confront his childhood rival once and for all - pulling out all the stops to finally lay their feud to rest. Crew against crew, Captain against Captain, First-Mate against First-Mate - will you win, or lie at the mercy of the man you once loved. The man you will always love.

Themes: Angst, pining, war, fighting, guns, blades, blood, unrequitted love, age-gap (19-37, 23-41, 32-50: Maths made me work today) f!reader, pet-name used, enemies to friends to enemies to lovers.

Song Suggestions: Let Me Down Slowly, She Used to be Mine

Tag List: @sordidmusings, @writingmysanity, @gingernut1314, @feral-artistry,

Destruction, chaos, blood and bones litter the splintered hull of the ship. The air was tinted with the scent of cinders, flint and ignited powders. Another cannon struck the top-mast, this time severing the link and reducing it to shredded planks. Everything was happening both too fast and too slow. Buggy was flying through the air, untameable as the sea and as chaotic as the storm rocking the ship against the thrashing waves.

A clap of lightning cut the sky, the sound of rumbled beaten-drum thunder reverberated and shook against your rapidly reducing vessel. You shook your nerves away from your hands and leapt into the air, holding your breath as you propelled yourself onto the enemy vessel.

You had no idea that a night of drinking and reminiscing with your captain and crew would lead you here. It started with ale, pale to start and ending with stout. Then you switched to ports and honey-mead to cleanse the palate and continue the merriment. Music, lividity, gaiety was where you started - singing heartily to the shanties of old.

And then they brought out the ouzo.

Ouzo, your one weakness, had memories spiraling and your heart swelling in love-stricken grief. It started with each of you recounting your places at the time of Gol D Rogers execution. Buggy could barely choke back his tears, almost coherent with words he left unspoken as he witnessed his heart stop as a fifteen year old. You confessed you were in a place you knew you shouldn't, a child of barely eight witnessing the death of someone you had adored from afar as king of your kind.

From listening to the recounts of the crew, anger began to fester below the surface. Tales of how Captain Shanks ruined the life of your beloved clown had your heart beating heavier - swelling with the thinning blood infused with a high percentage of alcohol. You had only then begun to uproot the prior stifled feelings regarding the redheaded captain’s first mate.

You thought you repressed them enough, compartmentalized enough. But the bile began to form behind your lips as your heart jumped into your throat as the memories found themselves within the forefront of your eyes.

He had every right to turn you down. You respect him more for it now than you did back then, that was for certain. You were barely nineteen, making a name for yourself as one of the most nimble-footed, light fingered thieves in the east blue. “Get in, get on with it, get it done, and get out,” was your motto; and a motto you managed to execute with the highest amount of competency and skill.

Stealing from a red-haired captain? An easy task you were commissioned to do. Having your heart stolen from your chest, lungs compressed of all its oxygen as your eyes met with the steel gaze of the first mate? Not something you had ever accounted for. But you fell first, and you fell hard.

You disregarded your mission, bullied the captain immediately to take you under his wing aboard the red-force and served with them for little over four years. In those four years, your heart was longing, craving affection from the first mate. Yassop gave you hell for it. Lucky Roux attempted to join in on the teasing - only for you to teach them both a lesson by misplacing and claiming objects very near and dear to them.

Each time you set to dock at port, you witnessed the love of your life take another to his bed. You drew attention yourself, and easily took a fling here and there. But in doing so, you were always longing to be the one chosen good enough - special enough - to warm the sheets beside Benn Beckman. To be the face he’d lie next to in the night, and the smile he awoke to in the morning.

At twenty three, you confessed. A night not unlike the one here amongst the red-hair pirates had you singing, swaying and dancing to the fingerpicking of a guitar. Ouzo drove your words, an apprehensive and innocent smile dancing on your lips as the warm alcohol flushed your cheeks. You laid it all out for him; from the moment your eyes first met, to the way you altered your entire life for the opportunity to be by his side - you risked it all at the beachfront fireside with the crack of warm flames dancing in your eyes.

As you leant in to place a soft kiss against his lips: he turned away from you with his eyes tightly shut. His hand clapped over your shoulder, as he kept you an arms length away and reopened his eyes.

“Darlin’, I’m flattered,” His voice drawled, brows furrowed in a deep frown as he held his eyes away from yours, “But I’m a little old for someone like you.”

Someone like you.

That phrase had all thoughts sour, all emotions and tempers running high as you hastily sprung to your feet and marched back towards the Red Force. Knowing now what you knew then, he had every right to turn you down as you confessed to him. You were young, a fool only in love; never unsound in mind.

Was that how all of the crew thought of you? An infatuated, love-sick, and thieving child following blindly the orders of your captain, under the watchful eyes of a first mate you’d come to love? You gave up everything to be by his side; your career long since forgotten as you worked yourself to the bone for the chance to be on the receiving end of a small smile from him.

You hastily packed your belongings, leaving no trace nor whisper you had ever served among this crew, and crept back into the shadows where you once more found yourself again. Thriving in the reignition of your skillset, you had managed to acquire a fair amount of wealth for yourself. Feeling in a celebratory mood after a successful solo heist, your eyes met with the hunched over figure of a sad clown.

Feeling content and pleased with yourself, you decided to buy him a drink. And then another.

And then you decided to join him for one.

When you met Buggy, you knew this was the crew you were always meant to serve with. Your skills as a thief had you perform in his circus as his prized assistant. His coy volunteer within the stands, his enchanting assistant showcasing his grandeur, his leading lady in the ring - his loyal First-Mate as he made a name for himself through fame and fortune. Never once did you feel the desire to romance the clown, keeping the need to express such feelings for another hidden well below the surface, but you loved him as one ever could love an older sibling who acted like the younger.

After slamming down your upturned, empty shot glass for the umpteenth time; you lulled your head atop his shoulder and nonchalantly raised your voice in question.

“What if we just,” your speech slurred as you looked over the back of your nails, “killed him?”

“Killed who, Doll? Who we killing?” Your captain asked, looking over your head to nod in appreciation of your painted fingernails.

“Shanks. The Red-Hair pirates. All of them.”

Buggy leant down into your ear, holding his glazed over eyes and a rumbled growl of anxiety laden excitement purred against your skin.

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

And this is where your booze-filled suggestion had you. Rifles drawn, cutlasses brandished and fists meeting flesh as you tore each other into ribbons of littered and battered skin. Teeth gnashing, throats growling and brows furrowing; the tension was being cut with layers of destruction. Two crews you had served with, the former being on the winning side of the fight as the latter began to perish. Your current crew were being annihilated, only very few remaining now standing as the Big Top was slowly sinking beneath the icy-cold water.

As another cannonball was fired from the end of an iron circlet, you fell to a crouched position and barely managed to cover your ears to stifle the ringing within. As you withdrew your ears and turned, you opened your eyes to a sight you never thought you would see again.

Facing down the barrel of a rifle, your eyes first met with the cold circlet of doom pointing at your head. You smelt the warm familiarity of tobacco first, your heart pounding harder than it ever did within the battle prior.

Glancing up past the barrel, you met with the cold and calculated stare of the first-mate of the red hair pirates. His eyes were wide and wild, his lips curled back into a grimace with the grinding of teeth, before the cruel twist of fate had his eyes stagger under recognition.

The warm hot flush of angry tears began to sting at the corners of your eyes as they continued to bear into his - his own raw emotion being depicted on his own face.

Beckman’s heart stopped, his breath hitched and cigarette fell from his parted lips as his jaw fell slack. Never once had you reached out. Not after all this time did he know you were even alive, let alone serving amongst the rival crew of the one you had come to know prior. He never should’ve let you leave - not like that. Not knowing how he truly felt for you and choosing to restrain himself from your alcohol-induced confession.

He loved you. He loved you so desperately, he could not see his life complete without you. And when you severed from the crew and left no trace, Beckman became a shell of a man he once was. Faking smiles, forcing laughter, joining himself with pleasurable company no longer on his agenda as all he could picture was your face. Your eyes: filled with such sorrow at his rejection, that was all he came to see behind his closed eyes as he lay to sleep.

"You gonna shoot me, Becks? Is that what it all comes down to?" Your taunt broke him away from his looping thoughts, his battletorn face alert to the woman he had come to long for. Your sinister and malicious smile was never something he ever foresaw being on the receiving end of, and it startled him.

"I don't want to, Darlin'. But if it'll stop you from fightin’ us and leaving with the clown again, I'll see it done,” he responded, clicking back the ignition on his beloved pistol.

The roars of battle fleeing from the lips of your Captain, his malicious cackles of rage-filled laughter hurtling towards Red Haired Shanks. Echoes of taunts and insults hurled into the air regarding the betrayal of one captain against another, all of which were met by an uproar of apologies from your former captain as he blocked every assault thrown his way.

Although you were a faithful first-mate, knowing it was your role to serve and protect your captain, you were struck down by your own swollen emotions within your heart. No longer filled with the taste and hindrance of alcohol, your once hidden thoughts and emotions began to swell of their own accord in front of the silver-haired first-mate.

You couldn't tear your eyes from Beckman’s, unable to break the spell of longing you felt for him. After all these years, he was still the man your heart cried for in the lonely hours of the night, as you lay in crew quarters aboard the enemy’s ship. The first man you ever loved. The man you would always love. The man who still held the pointed tip of a gun at your head as you scowled into his face, masking the pain his absence had drawn to you.

His eyes, his hair, his soul: all once held secret and safe with your adoration for him protected and refused to be spoken. Those words turned to broken mirrors, refracting light away from your eyes as they held firm against his own.

"You going to cut me down just like that? I thought you were a man far more dignified than all that," you huffed with a humorless laugh. His jaw clenched tightly shut, his eyes narrowing at you as you snarled at him beneath the barrel of his gun.

"And I never thought I'd see you again, let alone blindly serving the enemy,” He growled, dragging his eyes over your war torn clothes and battleshaken face for any semblance of injury.

Another cry from the clown in rage had your ears pricking at the sound, but eyes fixed on the expressions the man in front of you were holding. You saw the masking emotions slip, his eyes begin to glaze as your own mask dropped completely.

After all this time, he was still the man you loved. You loved him so desperately, so deeply, that you almost forgot the reason you were here in the first place.

He dropped his gun from your head and fell to his knees in front of you, reaching down his left hand to seek out your chin and cradle it beneath his thumb and index finger. You keep your eyes fixed on his as you allow the luxury of a hot tear to roll down your cheek, gritting your teeth in wordlessly reprimanding yourself for such an action.

“Benn,” the whisper of his name from your mouth had his body surge towards you, taking your lips beneath his in a long, bruising kiss.

His left hand removed itself from your chin to take your cheek into it, his right hand circling your waist as he cradled you against himself. You whimpered against his lips, feeling everything you had once felt for him simmer and boil to the surface.

You clenched your eyes tightly shut, brows furrowing as he reflected everything you had tangibly felt in yearning for him for all of these years. You felt the stubble of his chin scrape against yours, the taste of his final cigarette on his tongue as he deepened the oscillation. He growled as you finally gave in, hooking your right arm over his shoulder and placing your left hand atop his right cheek. You felt the etchings of his healed over scar dancing beneath your fingertips, an angry whisper of a tear leaking down to press against your thumb.

"Please don't leave with him. I couldn't bear the thought. Stop all of this,” he whispered against your lips, “Please stay,” he uttered, breaking the kiss to brace you against his body, “Stay with me on the Red Force. Serve Shanks once more. Please . I'll do anything-."

At that, you circled your chin around, breaking the embrace while rotating your hips away from him. You danced your body around his, placing a firm kick to the side of his head; successfully knocking the first-mate of the Red-Hair pirates to the ground and rising to your feet in one swift movement.

Benn was on his side, staring up at you with a mixture of shock, fury and pride.

"Good bye, Benn. You should've shot me when you had the chance."

At that, you ran fast as your feet could carry you towards your blue-haired captain. You quickly sought him out as he lay punch after punch against the face and torso of red-haired Shanks, who looked to just be sitting there and taking them. He easily could defend himself and thwart the rage of the clown by pushing him backwards into the sea water, but he just stood and took everything Buggy was throwing at him.

Buggy, your beautiful captain, was crying. Hot and angry tears were pouring without any semblance of stopping, as fatigue from the fight slowed down his rage-filled hits. His white gloves were stained red with the blood of the man who betrayed him, a man who appeared to be whispering in a voice so low only Buggy could hear it.

Your sprint drew you close, just off to the side as the punches slowed to a lull; Buggy’s shoulders shaking as he continued to sob.

“It’s okay, Buggy,” Shanks whispered, allowing another hit to land against his chest, “It’s okay. Everything is okay.” Buggy’s head hung low, his knuckles pressed firmly against Shanks’ torso as he continued to cry into the air.

Shanks hooked an arm over his shoulders, pressing Buggy’s sweat-smeared forehead against his own, as he embraced him with his battered remaining arm. Shanks’ eyes were closed and a whisper of a boyish smile was stuck to his face as Buggy’s sobs began to shake violently under his arm.

“I’m sorry, Buggy. I’m so, so sorry,” Shanks whispered, nuzzling his head against Buggy’s as he drew his head into his chest. Buggy’s eyes continued to remain wide and unblinking as he stiffened in the embrace.

You felt the presence of both the Red-Hair and the Buggy-Pirates at your side; battered, bruised and broken as they watched their captains embrace against one another.

“You can keep hitting me if you want,” Shanks smiled, placing his chin atop the blue hair of the captain you serve, “But know I’ll never hate you. I’d rather die.”

You felt an overwhelming sense of both panic and relief as Buggy circled his arms around Shanks’ waist and buried his head into his chest. Sobs from the clown and laughter from the redhead began to echo against the deck of the ship, confusing all those surrounding.

“Lay down your arms, boys,” Beckman’s voice rumbled from your side, prompting you to freeze in place. To your surprise, the Red-Hair pirates sheathed their swords and disarmed their pistols. Silence aside from the whimpers from your captain in the arms of your former were the only sounds gracing your ears, until they met with the flick of a lighter and a deep inhale of a cigarette.

You looked over to the silver-haired man beside you, watching as he took the back of his hand and wiped the small trickle of blood from your prior kick from his lips.

“And bring out some Ouzo, would you, Roux?” Beckman’s eyes upturned. You watched as that smile you so desperately craved began to draw up onto the lips of the man you loved, causing your heart to swell.

“Me and this one got a lot to talk about,” he stooped down, resting his forehead against your own as his charming smile began to grow, “Don’t we, Darlin’?”

The battle died down, your current and former captains sitting together in the middle of a table of the tavern as the Red-Force tethered and chaperoned the Big-Top into port. You were sitting at the bar, refusing to acknowledge any member of your former crew, nor your current. Cabaji and Yasopp were heavily engaged in a dart-throwing competition at the far end of the tavern; Roux and Mohji were talking about food in heavy detail, with Richie curled up at their feet.

And Beckman was sitting atop the barstool beside you, patiently watching and waiting for you to engage him in conversation. You continued to sit in silence, sipping at the small glass of ouzo first before downing the liquid and signaling for another.

“Someone like you,” you mocked him, tutting out a venomous reprimand before throwing back another shot of the burning, liquorice-flavored liquid as soon as it was placed in front of you, “Darlin’ this, Darlin’ that.”

“Is that what this was about?” Beckman chuckled, leaning his elbow on the bar as he took his cheek beneath his fist, “After all this time, you think-.”

“-You know what, Benn? Fuck you,” you spat, turning from him and signalling for the bartender to leave the remainder of the bottle, “Fuck you and your stupid ‘someone like you’, Benn. You should be so lucky, you arrogant prick-.”

Your words were stifled by the firm grip pulling at the back of your hair, immediately molding his lips over your own in a long, passionate kiss. He circled his chin, parted his lips and claimed more of your heart with each brush-stroke of the portrait he painted against your mouth. He bullied you, bruised you with his intensity; cradling you against his body with each motion he made with his lips.

Wolf-whistles and cat-calls were thrust into the air by the two pirate crews once sworn in hatred, now allies. Benn smiled against your lips, continuing to press more of himself into you before he broke away from claiming you against his mouth.

“Someone like you,” Beckman whispered, his breath tickling your lips with the former memory, “Someone as young as you. Someone as stunning as you. Someone that could have any man they wanted fall on their knees and beg for you to send a single look their way.” Your breath hitched, eyes wide at his confession.

“Is that what you’re doing, Benn?” your eyes dropped to his lips, processing every word relayed onto you, “Begging?”

“Pleading,” he confessed further before he claimed another kiss from your lips that ended as briefly as it began. You allowed the small break of a smile chip and whittle away against your prior stoic and aggressive demeanor.

“Why didn’t you say so when you had the chance?” you asked him, shaking your head at him and drawing up your palm to cradle his cheek within its warmth. He closed his eyes, leaning into the small gesture and kissed your palm.

“I wanted you to have the chance to do better, Darlin’,” he uttered, placing his hand atop yours and withdrawing it from his face, “Better than me.” You sought out his meaning behind his gray orbs and clicked your tongue at him.

“Why would I ever have wanted anyone else?” you whispered, shaking your head at him. He chuckled, turning back and poured two glasses of the burning, translucent liquid into the shot glasses.

“A guy like me doesn’t get someone like you,” he sighed, his smile still present as he downed his ouzo, “Someone like you goes for someone like Shanks.” He poured himself another and danced his glass rim against yours remaining unclaimed atop the bar. You took the hint and raised your glass within your hand, rolling your eyes at his comment.

“Someone like me changed their life to follow someone like you,” you quipped in return, downing the liquid and placing your glass back atop the bar, prompting Benn to do the same. “I gave up everything I was for you, Benn. I wanted you,” you took the neck of the bottle and began pouring the liquid into both of the glasses, “And I still do.”

“After all that fighting?” he asked, nudging you with his shoulder, “You still want me, Darlin’?” You sighed, a smile dancing on your lips as the crew around continued their merriment and conversations.

“Of course I do.”

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #buggy #shanks #benn beckman x reader #benn beckman #benn beckman op #benn x reader #beckman x reader

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roronoaswifey · 8 months

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꒰ FEATURING ! ꒱ : roronoa zoro

꒰ CONTENT WARNING ꒱ : explicit content, foul language, cunningulus, oral (m + f), 69, zoro eats ass but wbk, fingering, reader gets called a whore and sluts, pet names and has a vagina.

꒰ kazu’s note ꒱ : this is kinda short but leave me alone. 🤚🏾

“hnng— keep eatin’,” you release the girthy cock from your mouth with a wet plop! sound. with his shaft still in your hold, you jerk off the slick dick, lubed by duds of your saliva. “s’posed to be a two way thing—mmh!”

“so fuckin’ mouthy,” zoro speaks, or at least tries, mouth full of your sweet cunt. you seem at lack of response, too enthralled by the flat of his tongue working wonders against your pussy.

“fuuuuckk, more—keep going!” you moan, hips pushing your plush ass into his face, engulfing zoro further into your essence. not that he seemed to mind, tongue rolling circles against your clit.

ain’t this supposed to be a two way thing? zoro thinks to himself, internally rolling his eyes but not bothering to voice his thought out loud. if there was one thing zoro fucking loved doing in bed, it was whenever you agreed on sitting on his face, no matter the circumstance. he got to taste your honeyed slick, flavour unique and existentially one of his favourite flavours he’s yet to discover, all while being able to laze around.

a firm slap to your already reddened ass cheeks has your body jolting, and you’re suddenly brought back to your senses. the dick you’re pumping is placed back at the entrance of your lips, and zoro’s impatient, bucking his hips up to hurry the process.

“mmhm—hnnnngggg!” he’s just so fucking big and thick, that even when you attempt to take as much as you can, you’re able to fit the rest of his dick in your hands. your jaw began aching sooner than you’d like, and mixed with the sheer pleasure of his tongue fucking your cunt, thumbs spreading your cheeks for better access, you soon felt your mind going hazy.

still, you work your wrist around the girth, your saliva escaping your mouth and dripping down to the base. it helps ease the process, fingers moving downwards to cup and massage his balls, earning a deep rumble erupting from his chest all the way to his mouth, vibrations against your clit sending shivers down your spine.

“more,” he pulls away from your folds, hands rubbing at the swollen lips while he pants, “c’mon, you can take more, can’t you?”

“mmh, ‘course i can” you pull off his dick, a string of saliva connecting from his tip to your bottom lip. you look back at the swordsman, your brow twitching at what seemed to be a condescending look. “shut the hell up and watch.”

“impress me, mama.” he snorts, a firm slap to your ass once more, and you curse him inwardly before returning to work at his dick.

truth be told, you weren’t exactly sure how you were gonna handle all of his dick down your throat, but something in the way he looked at you, made you feel challenged.

and you never backed down a challenge.

with a sharp inhale, your relax your throat and jaw and take him all in one swoop. you can feel his dark green pubes hit your nose from here, and you repress the gag building up as fast as you can.

“shittttt, just like that,” he hisses, planting his heels down and hips bucking upwards while pushing his dick even further down your throat than to your comfort. now the gag is inevitable and you brace yourself for the thrusts by clenching your hands at his muscly thighs.

zoro then began fucking your throat. your cunt long forgotten, he groans and moans into their air while bucking his hips up, obsessed with the tightening of the muscles of your throat restricting his cock. your gags sound heavenly and serve a huge ego boost, and he’s sure you’ve got tear streaks down your pretty cheeks.

your cunt drips its juice onto his chin, and he watches through lidded eyes how it clenches around nothing. you must be turned on by getting used like a whore, he thinks, to which earns you a spank against your dripping pussy.

you moan at the feeling, the sweet sound muffled by his dick ramming your mouth. your throat is definitely gonna be sore after this, and you’ll probably resent him for it, but fuck if he couldn’t care any less.

“shit, ‘m close,” his breath hitches, and by the whine you let out with shaking hips, he forces two fingers into your cunt and massages your insides with rough callouses and curves of his digits. “wanna soak my face with your cum?”

you make a sound of approval, something in the mix of mewls and whines, and zoro decides to plunge yet again another finger, thumb focusing on your swollen bundle of nerves.

“gon’ drink you all up while you suck me dry, yeah?” he leans forward, working his tongue from the end of your pussy all the way up to your puckered hole, teasingly dragging the wet muscle around the rim.

between overwhelming scent of his musk filling your senses to the finger fucking at your pussy to the unfamiliar sensation of ass eating, you soon began feeling the very welcomed gut coiling pleasure build up. your limbs began heating up and your eyes nearly rolled back.

“fuuuuckkkk, there we go,” he chuckles breathily with a half moan slamming his hips up and emptying his seed down your throat. his muscles tense up and his stomach contracts and god, since he’s the luckiest bastard in the world, you whine pathetically while spraying his face in your juice, clear liquid shooting out from your pussy to his mouth, chin, nose and even his eye. “filthy. fucking. slut.” each word punctuated with sharp thrusts.

your body shakes and trembles and your hips grind against the fingers that are relentless, determined to drag out this orgasm to its fullest. you nearly choke on the salty cum down your throat, before pulling his dick out and stroking it against your tongue.

“sooo fuckin’ gooddd, mmmhh!” you moan all hazily, tapping his reddened tip against your tongue, his cum shooting out rivers as it stains your cheeks. your hand strokes at the base while your plump lips latch around the tip, milking him out for every little drop left. “oou—fuck daddyyy!”

“taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he groans, tongue lapping at your essence. his tongue is relentless and he’s sucking and drinking you whole, nose stuffed deep in your aching cunt. “y’got the best pussy, i swear” he praises you, though it’s muffled, it doesn’t fail to bring heat to your cheeks.

you turn your head back, eyes all glossy and unfocused from the blinding orgasm, and watch as the man snacks what’s left of you. he meets your gaze and sends you a wink, with another harsh slap at your ass.

panting, you muster up a smirk. “how’s that f’r more,” you slur your words, fatigue catching up to you rather quicker than you anticipated.

zoro snorts, plunging his canines into the mounds of your ass and you yelp at the sting, before he runs his tongue against the bite.

“better catch your breath doll, we ain’t done here.”

🗿don’t ask where this came from.

#roronoaswifey.exe #kazuha’s works 📂#one piece #one piece smut #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro smut #zoro x reader #x reader

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repressionrumble · 1 year

Text

Round One, Side One

#Sasha Nein #Saiki k #Psychonauts #Tournament #Bracket #Polls #Repression rumble

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 month

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Goo Kim x Reader: Cat

G/N. Silly. Fluffy.

"You lil shit!" Goo yelps, sharply retreating.

It's a millisecond too late. His reflexes are beat. Fresh scratch marks litter his hand.

Eyes narrowing behind his glasses, he snarls "I'll kill y-"

And is cut off by another swipe, missing his face by a whisker.

"Yeah sorry he does that, he's a menace." You're half apologetic, half grinning that your other menace, the newly acquired blonde delinquent, has finally met his match.

It's an adversary Goo never expected: your fluffy little feline companion.

Goo's not heartless, okay? He's not completely resistant to cute charms (yours, for example). One second the cat had rolled over, exposing its impossibly soft and fluffy belly and who was Goo to turn down such an adorable invitation?

It turns out that the belly was as soft and fluffy as it looked.

For a brief moment, Goo and your cat were mutually (or so he had thought) enjoying the experience... The next-

Well.

Shit. This hurts.

He's had way worse directed at him, yet he didn't expect those little tiny claws to sting so goddamn much. Goo knows you shouldn't harm animals. Still, he couldn't help asking-

Nursing the scratches on his beautiful skin, "I can't kick it right?"

Judging from the glare you gave him, it's very much a no.

The cat is out to get him.

If cats were capable of plotting and scheming, which this one is, it absolutely is trying to get rid of the other being now taking up your time.

(No, Goo is not batshit and paranoid, thank you.)

Goo eyes the cat with distrust, currently purring in your lap.

"Sweetheart, I wanna put my head there!" he whines, and is given nothing but a chuckle in response as if he's joking.

To add insult to injury, he swears that stupid cat smirked at him too.

"No, not yet," You push Goo off you, the playful kisses now having taken a distinctly non-playful, and very much hot and heavy turn.

Readjusting his glasses, "Huh, why?"

"My cat’s there," You nod somewhere over his bare shoulder, and his head turns to follow your eye line.

That stupid cat is right fucking there.

"Shoo him out, sweetheart," Goo murmurs, lips grazing against your neck once more.

"I feel bad."

Goo stops. Looks at you with an arched eyebrow. Barely manages to repress a disgruntled sigh.

You know you sound crazy, and you know your cat won't hold it against you. Nevertheless, with a grimace, you tell him, "It's his bedroom too!"

Turns out it is the cat's bedroom, and also the cat's apartment.

Which it showed by arching his back and hissing everytime Goo appeared in his periphery.

Perhaps only when Goo was with you, did the cat tolerate his presence. Then you got called away for a couple weeks and Goo, like a lovesick idiot, offered to stay and look after your pet for you.

Now with him just on his own, he is proving to be very much an unwanted guest in claimed territory.

Luckily, the hostility and hissing from both sides calmed down after the first few days, eventually turning into an uneasy truce.

Only after feeding the cat, and offering treats (not that Goo wanted to, it was only under your instructions) during the first week did it seem to accept the blonde's presence. As if it somehow knows that this idiot is its final defence before starvation.

So the cat tolerates Goo, even if it is still a bit frosty and begrudging.

The most unexpected and surprising point though, arrives towards the end of your absence.

Soft meows stirs Goo from his slumber.

He wakes in time to see the cat pounce onto the bed, kneading his paws into your pillow.

"You miss Y/N?" He asks, and receives another meow.

It sounds distinctly like a yes. All frostiness, in the quiet darkness, has melted away.

"Me too," he murmurs.

Maybe it's because Goo is almost asleep again and his defences are down, or maybe they both just miss you. But when he reaches out to stroke the cat's head, he receives, for the first time, a purr.

A low rumbling, contentment. Gentle pressure, nudging against his palm.

Finally-

A shared understanding as they both eagerly await your return.

#god i absolutely love this old panel of goo. the swagger and confidence #lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism hc #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #goo kim #goo kim x reader #kim joongoo #kim joongoo x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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just-a-creep-babe · 2 months

Text

A Demon’s Ache — Part 20

Eyeless Jack x Reader

A Demon's Ache Masterlist

Commissioned by @cookiereblogss — thank you so so much for your whole support throughout this entire series! It genuinely wouldn’t be here without you, and I appreciate it so much 💓💗💖

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

Pain

Before he can even begin to understand where he is, all he can register is pain

His body’s numb with it

A groan escapes him

Blood pounds in his eardrums

It feels like his head’s being split open from the inside—he can’t remember the last time he had such a bad migraine

He reaches up to press his hands to his head, as if doing so could alleviate his headache, and the movement is accompanied by the sound of metal clanging against metal

He pauses, his body stiffening as he realizes there's a weight around his wrists

He’s chained down to something

With a disgruntled sound, he forces his attention to his surroundings

The first thing he notices is that he’s in some sort of basement, with dark wood-paneled walls and bare stone floors

He’s not wearing his mask, his face uncomfortably exposed for anyone to see, but that’s the least of his problems right now

He's kneeling, chained to the wall, he realizes, in front of both you and The Operator

Worry laces your features

The scent of your stress and fear permeates the otherwise stale, dead air

Panic infiltrates Jack's system as things start to click into place

What happened?

He tries to think back to the last thing he remembers; something about running through the forest, something about wanting to kill

But the more he tries to remember, the louder that dull pounding in his head grows, and he realizes he just can't concentrate properly

Not right now, anyway, not like this

He tries to shake the discomfort off, and then, feeling awkward just kneeling there in front of the both of you, he stands

Or, at least, he tries to stand, but his legs are shaky and unstable, like he recently over-exerted himself, and his muscles are too stiff to function properly, so he gives up, and simply stays on the dirty floor

“Jack…” you say his name, then hesitate, like you’re scared or uncertain about something

It breaks his heart

He wants to reach out and comfort you

Before anything else—before even figuring out what happened and why he’s here—he just wants to make sure you’re ok

Jack Nyras

He flinches at the sound of his name, his real, full name, echoed in his mind by The Operator's rumbling hiss

He can't remember the last time he heard that name—it feels like lifetimes ago

He'd almost forgotten it entirely, and, in all honesty, he would've preferred to keep it that way

You have violated the laws of the Safe House

Static fills his mind, growing in intensity with every word

What is your defense?

Defense?

He can hardly remember what happened, and now he's supposed to defend himself?

He tries to concentrate again, tries to think through the noise crowding his head

He remembers making it to a cabin—the proxies' cabin?

He remembers wood splintering and glass shattering, and then there was something about a fight, something about squeezing someone's neck between his hands, feeling pleasure as their life slowly drained away

He shivers, repressing the memory

What is your defense?

The question is repeated, louder this time, noticeably less forgiving and more commanding

"I-I don't know," Jack admits out loud, "I don't have one"

You are aware of the consequences of violating the laws of the Safe House

Even though it isn't a question, it's phrased as though The Operator expects an answer

And so, with a nod, Jack complies

"I am"

The faceless monster tilts its head to the side, the motion, of which, might’ve been unnerving if Jack hadn’t grown so used to it

Do you accept the consequences?

The hybrid furrows his brows

The biggest rule of the mansion was to never intentionally harm another resident

The punishments ranged in severity depending on circumstance, but Jack definitely had the intention to kill—and to kill one of Slender’s beloved proxies, nonetheless

Having him ask if he accepted the consequences could only mean one thing; he was about to face expulsion

How could he just accept that?

He looks up at you, at your fear, at your nervousness and confusion and uncertainty

What about her? Why did you drag her down to see this?

He doesn't say it out loud, but he directs his question to the eldritch being

Her presence is for her own benefit, seeing as her fate is tied to yours

It takes him a moment to register the low timber pervading his mind

And, at first, he almost thinks he didn't understand correctly

"What do you mean?"

He asks the question slowly, carefully, keeping his voice low as if to contain the mix of emotions threatening to surface

He doesn't look away from you as he asks, either—he can't

He wants to see your reaction, wants to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling

Part of him is also curious to see if you understand what they're talking about, based solely on his side of the conversation

Or maybe you’re having your own internal discussion with The Operator at the same time

But then he notices the obvious confusion and burning curiosity stirring alongside your fear, and he realizes you really don’t know

She has become inherently tied to you; she will share your decided fate, it repeats

"What? Why? That doesn't make any sense," he jerks in his chains; a futile attempt to free himself

She didn't do anything wrong

He adds in that last part in his head because he doesn’t want you to know what they're talking about

Part of him still insists on sheltering you from as much of this mess as possible

It is simply how things must come to pass

The Operator expresses it with such an air of indifference that it makes Jack's blood boil

"I refuse," Jack hisses

After everything he's done, everything he did to you—he can't be the reason you're expelled

He's caused enough disorder in your life as is

You have no choice, The Operator answers simply

"Give me the choice," Jack insists, a snarl accidentally rippling out of him as his anger bubbles out

And it isn't like him at all to succumb to his anger so easily; he usually prides himself on his ability to remain calm and collected, even in tense situations

But it’s like this whole thing is just grating on his nerves at this point

And it’s even worse since you’re involved in this, too

And that's when it suddenly clicks that this must be one of the many effects of the mark

You have no choice, The Operator repeats, and as the voice fills his head, so does an overwhelming wave of static

Jack chokes back another snarl

His muscles tense, and he grits his teeth, trying to bear the pain threatening to split his head open again

"S-stop—don't hurt him!"

Hearing you cry out for him, he looks up, right as another surge of agony knocks the breath out of him

It's dizzying

The pain pushes and presses up against his skull, like his head's suddenly way, way too crowded and it's on the verge of bursting

Once it's filled his mind, left with no other space to invade, it travels down his nervous system like a flash of electricity, burning every single nerve ending along the way

It's excruciating

The intensity drowns out everything in his surroundings

Somewhere at the back of his mind, he hears you crying out again, but he can't make out the words over the shrill ringing in his ears

He sees you trying to reach for him, sees The Operator's tendrils appear out of nowhere to wrap around you, to hold you back from helping him

Jack hisses out through gritted teeth

His chest heaves with labored breaths as he’s violated from the inside-out

Something cold licks up his thoughts, and then all at once, his memories are forced to surface

Every interaction, every intimate moment shared between the two of you is brought up and laid bare for The Operator to pick through

The steamy exchanges, the longing, the private glances, the first kiss—all of the back and forth, the tangle of emotions and miscommunications that'd been treasured in his memories is yanked from the privacy he'd previously taken for granted

No, no, no—stop—stop doing this—make it stop

Even through the burning pain, the words repeat themselves over and over in his head—as if merely thinking it could stop him

He'd rather be tortured than forced to expose everything like this

It’s beyond violating—he’s tarnishing the intimacy of the memories by being so rough and cruel with them

He doesn’t know how long it lasts—it feels like a short, endless eternity

And then, before he knows it, it’s all over

The agony subsides like it was never there to begin with, and he's left dizzy and nauseous, and torn between wanting to cry and wanting to kill the damn bastard with his bare hands

When he looks up at you, an apology hangs at the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't have time to express it as he notices the fear in your eyes, now more intense than ever, as The Operator's tentacles twist and writhe around your form

One quick snap would be all it takes to kill you

He lurches forward, about to plead, about to say anything to save you, when you open your mouth and speak

"I- I don't know," you say, and he realizes The Operator's in your mind now, having a conversation about God-knows-what

He wants to interrupt, wants to beg him not to hurt you, but at the same time, he's scared doing just that will jeopardize your safety

You chew at your lip, looking at Jack with uncertainty clear on your features

"It's-it's complicated—please, just, don't—"

You cut yourself off with a wince, and when you squirm in Slender’s hold, the tendrils tighten even further around you like he's planning on suffocating you

Jack holds his breath

He doesn't know whether or not he should say something

He's never felt so helpless

You wince again, squeezing your eyes shut

"Yes," you answer, and Jack's just about dying to know the context of the exchange

The following seconds trickling are unbearably slow and agonizing

Your eyes keep darting back and forth uncertainly, looking at him, looking at Slender, then back to him with your brows furrowed in contemplation

Just free her, he pleads internally, just let her go and I won't cause any more trouble

But almost immediately as he thinks it, your breath catches in your throat with a gasp

“N-no—don’t,” he tries to beg, knowing what’s coming, but as soon as he opens his mouth, you scream

Pain contorts your features, your body going rigid before you twist and jerk to try to free yourself

God, he can’t stand it

He can’t stand the sound of your pain, the sight of your visceral gut-wrenching agony

"Stop, stop! Make it stop—I'll do anything!"

Pleas falling on deaf ears, he snarls, jerking forward only to have the chains snap him back into place

Your screaming overrides his humanity—whatever was left of his rational mind evaporates and leaves behind his baser instincts

It turns him into a monster

He doesn’t hear himself snarling and growling over your pained cries

He doesn’t hear the chains groaning in protest, doesn’t register the feeling of them bending with strain as he pulls against them with all of his force

He just needs to make it stop

The metal creaks unpleasantly as he gains an inch, and then another one after that

The fixture restraining him to the wall goes taut, and then, all at once, it finally snaps off

The tentacles disappear as he rushes toward you

He wraps his arms around you, pressing you close to his chest, as if the less distance there is between the both of you, the better he can protect you

The last thing he thinks is that he'd die for you, and then everything goes dark

He wakes up sore and disoriented, which seems to be a recurring theme as of late

Except, this time, instead of being in some shady basement, he's... outside, in the forest

Sun peaks through the canopy of the trees, dappling the grass in bright patches of warmth

With a groan, Jack sits upright

His mask is staring up at him from a bed of wildflowers

He picks it up, fixes it over his face, and looks around

He doesn't immediately recognize this part of the forest, which would worry him—if a more intense kind of panic didn't immediately seize his chest at the realization that you're not anywhere around

He wastes no time standing up, ignoring the protest of his aching muscles, and moving in the direction of the sun

But he only makes it maybe 20 minutes or so when he feels a presence behind him

He tenses, knowing it could only be one person

And, surely enough, when he turns around, he finds Slender facing him expectantly

"Where is she?"

He wastes no time asking the question

Fuck everything else, he just needs to know you're ok

(Y/n) has made a bargain, it informs, and it sets Jack on edge even more so than he already was

She has 24 hours to decide, among other things, whether or not she is willing to become your mate

Jack's throat tightens

Failure to accept, or failure to decide, will result in both of you being expelled from the Safe House

He’s condemned you, Jack thinks, much to his horror; because of this mess he’s created, he’s inadvertently forcing you to either live a life you don’t want, or lose the one you currently cherish so deeply

It's all his fault

Nausea like bile rises in his throat

“Is there… is there any other way around this?” he insists, “Can't you just expel me, and leave her out of this? She didn’t do anything to deserve punishment—she didn't break any rules”

The Operator tilts his head to the side

The mere notion that a compromise is being permitted is an exception not permitted to most. There is no other way

“What about—“ he tries again, balling his fists at his side as he refuses to accept things, “what about if—if things don't pan out," he takes a deep breath, knowing it's a plausible reality, "and we're both kicked out—if we sort things outside of the mansion, and come to some kind of peaceful agreement or understanding together—could she still be allowed in?”

A tense second passes as The Operator considers his question

If, it clarifies, you and (y/n) come to an agreement that guarantees you will not be jeopardizing the sanctuary of the Safe House, I may consider her re-admittance based on a very strictly defined set of terms

The burden on his shoulders lightens somewhat

It isn’t much, but it’s something—something he can cling to if nothing else works

Some kind of hope

You are to remain here until the decision is taken, or the time otherwise reaches its end

And, just like that, he vanishes

For the rest of the morning—or, at least, what he assumes to be morning, based on the position of the sun—Jack wanders aimlessly through the forest

He thinks about the past few hours, how quickly everything spiraled, how it's all his fault

He doesn't know how you could ever manage to forgive him—much less accept being his mate

He runs through hundreds of scenarios in his head, trying to figure out the best course of action that would guarantee you keep your spot at the mansion

Jack's not an idiot; he's always known Slender's had an eye on him, so to speak

Maybe he could strike up his own bargain; becoming a proxy in exchange for your guaranteed residence at the mansion

He'll sell his soul to the devil for you, if he has to

Time trickles by slowly, painfully so

He doesn't know what to do with himself, so he just overthinks, and overthinks, and overthinks some more after that

The sun crests over the midway point in the sky, dips down a few inches, and still, no word from Slender

He sits, leaning his back against a tree, and tries to relax, tries to fall asleep or something to pass the time—but it, of course, is impossible to do so

He digs his fingers into the soft dirt

He feels the earth give way beneath his nails, and it reminds him of the feeling of tearing organs from a body

He pulls out a patch of grass, sprinkles it around him, repeats the motion

He’s ripped out maybe half a dozen handfuls when he feels that presence in front of him again

He looks up, and sees The Operator looking down at him

You are free to return to the mansion

It’s all he says before disappearing

The demon’s heart leaps up his throat

He stands, and starts making his way toward what he can only guess to be the mansion’s general direction

He doesn’t know why the damn bastard couldn’t have just teleported him there, or why he was forced to wait in this forest, but none of that matters right now

All that matters is he has the chance to see you again, to make sure you’re ok

It takes him longer than he would’ve liked to make it, but a few hours into his trek, he spots that familiar shape of the large building just up ahead

He picks up the pace, nearly jogging the rest of the way

He doesn’t wait a moment longer to make it to your room

As soon as he reaches it and makes it to your room, he notices that your door’s wide open, but you’re not inside

He takes in a slow, steadying breath

His room

He should check his own room; maybe you figured it’d be better to meet him there

After everything that’s been said and done, even despite Slender’s verdict, he doesn’t want to get his hopes crushed

Which is why he keeps his expectations exceptionally low as he beelines it to his room

And after everything that’s happened up until this point, it almost doesn’t even feel real when he sees you there; curled up in his bed, your eyes closed and your breathing slow and steady with his pillow hugged to your chest

He walks up to the bed, careful to not wake you

But either you weren’t sleeping, or you weren’t in a very deep sleep, because you immediately open your eyes when he gets to the edge of the bed

“…Hey,” you say, softly, your voice gentle, with a faint smile on your lips

“Hey,” he answers

You move over a few inches to make space for him, then pat the empty space next to you

He’s, admittedly, somewhat hesitant, somewhat nervous to accept the offer

But when he does, and when you cuddle up next to him, and he can hold you in his arms again so that nothing could hurt you, he finally relaxes around you

It wasn’t a secret that the hybrid had a thing for you

But now you knew; knew how badly he wanted you, knew the lengths he’d go to please you, to make you his

Maybe he’s not so hopeless after all, he thinks

Maybe, just maybe, things are going to be ok

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #a demon’s ache #eyeless jack #eyeless Jack x reader #crp #Crp ej

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little-pondhead · 1 year

Note

Some fic because I love your au, Fenton is gender brainrot, and little baby dan cracks me up. Full disclosure, my only familiarity with DC is DP crossover fanfic, and a Batman movie I fell asleep during. (If I had a better grasp on the characters I would totally write more :(( i love interactions) also sorry for the weird spacing. Idk why tumblr did that

~~~~~~~~

There was an empty cardboard box on the table of the Justice League’s main conference room. Taped on the top flap, next to a doodle of Fenton’s logo, was a jump drive.

Heaving a sigh, Batman plugged it in and pulled up his screen on the projector. The drive, which was named “little baby dan’s evil playtime”, contained two files; WATCH_ME_FIRST.mp4 and its-a-secreeeet.pdf. He clicked on the video file, and immediately the projector filled with a blurry close-up of Fenton’s goggles.

After a moment of fiddling with the camera, Fenton stepped back, giving a cheery wave. His lab coat and goggles were a pastel pink, which was new. “Heeeeya, Bats! Whoever else is there! If you’re watching this, you probably weren’t there when I dropped the box off, aaand it’s probably empty.”

He clapped his hands together gleefully. “And Connie, if you’re there, this is payback for cussing around my daughter.” Batman was instantly relieved that Constantine wasn’t on base. Hopefully the situation wouldn’t require Constantine’s expertise. (Or any of the Justice League Dark. Fenton seemed determined to drive them all to an early grave with his casual refusal to acknowledge the supernatural air around him.)

“Now, as you’re all heroes, I’m sure you’re all familiar with the whole,” Fenton paused for a moment, as if searching for the proper words. “”You ate a burger on a Tuesday or something equally inane, and it kickstarted a series of events that led to you going insane and evil and murdering 95% of the Earth’s population and now you must fight your evil alternate self, because your time-controlling cryptid Peepaw said so,” shtick, so I’ll skip the backstory. Say hi to Dan!” Fenton grabbed the camera, and Batman quickly jotted down several notes about the concerning number of things the boy had just said.

The camera swiveled around to show Nightingale, holding a strange beast in a manner that reminded Batman of an “elongated cat meme” Nightwing had shown him when he was still a Robin. The creature bared a maw full of razor sharp fangs at the camera. Nightingale adjusted her grip to hold the creature’s paw and make it wave, which evoked a deep growl.

“Haha, he’d kill me if I did that. Dan likes Nightingale much more than he likes me.”

“Because the worst she has ever done is attempt to shoot me.”

The camera had moved, so Batman couldn’t visually confirm that the deep voice had come from the creature, but the voice didn’t match any of Fenton’s previously revealed companions. “Yeah yeah, her aim sucked back then.” Fenton gave the camera a toothy grin that was only slightly less unnerving than the creature’s. “Dan’s not technically me, he’s much more like Dani, actually, but the world would probably end again if we left him with his other... What did you call him?” Fenton glanced offscreen.

“Bane of my accursed existence.”

Fenton chucked. “The other half responsible for his existence.” Batman added more notes to his file. “So, yeah, Clocky left him with us for a bit to help along his rehab. But a certain psychologist-in-training I know says that repressing rage isn’t healthy, and even without a lot of his powers, he can wipe out most of a city in- what, an hour? We tested it. It was around an hour.”

Everyone present shared a look of deep concern. As if able to see their reaction, Fenton quickly held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t worry! Clocky reset it. Approximately zero people have died from Dan in this timeline.”

“Yet.” Came a furious rumble from off-screen.

“Yes, you’re very scary.” They heard Nightingale coo.

Fenton laughed. “Yeah, we need him- and all of you, -out of our hair for a bit while we concoct more evil plans, and you’re all the least likely to die to him, so you get to babysit! Thanks!”

He reached to shut off the camera before pausing and turning away. “Foley! Which of the furries is the one who really likes animals?”

“Man, do you realize how that sounds out of context?” Foley laughed. “I think Tim said it’s the little one. Damian?”

Fenton nodded and turned back to the camera. “Don’t let Damian try to adopt Dan. Or anyone. Dan will bite their hands off. I mean it!” To emphasize his point, he removed one of his hands.

Batman sighed and added “ability to remove limbs” to a list of Fenton’s powers.

“I’ll include a list of “tasks”” Fenton’s disembodied hand made finger quotes, “we gave Dan to keep him occupied. There’s some at the bottom for you guys. They’re mostly just blatant abuse of his powers for the sake of fun and science. I’d appreciate it if you’d let him mark things off the list and add notes on how it goes. Or you can do it. Or I can steal your cameras. Your choice.”

He thought for a second. “I think you’re supposed to leave, like, pizza money or something, but I don’t think you can get pizza delivered to space. Anyway, thanks for letting me blab your ears off while Dan’s probably committing war crimes for twelve minutes. For your sake, I hope he inherited my interest in space. Good luck! Thanks for babysitting!”

Waving with his still detached hand, Fenton ended the video. Batman closed it and opened the PDF as the few other members present murmured amongst themselves. Most of the pages were filled with a curling script Batman didn’t recognize. The fourth page had a huge, bolded header, reading JP TASKS.

The door opened and shut in half a second as the Flash burst in. “Superman!” The speedster wailed. “I can’t get this thing off of me!”

The Flash waved his arm around, sending small droplets of blood flying as he tried to dislodge the creature sinking his teeth into the speedster’s arm. Batman raised an eyebrow beneath his cowl as Superman quickly lent his super strength in attempt to pry the creature’s jaw open. Dan didn’t budge.

Well, he could certainly see the family resemblance been Fenton, Dani, and Dan. Shaking his head, he turned back to the list.

Task 1: Find Dan. He’s probably attacking someone.

He highlighted the text and crossed it out. This was going to be a long shift.

[Anon, this is me crying over the wonderful gift you have given me. You bastard.]

---

"Do you think Fenton's regeneration powers extend to his..." Green Lantern frowned, trying to remember the word the kid had used but coming up blank. "I dunno. But do you think if we cut off little Dan here, he'll heal back up with no problem?" He gestured helplessly to the scene in front of him. Flash was still screeching about the beast on his arm, and now Superman and Wonder Woman were trying to pry him off. Batman was standing to the side, silently bemoaning the lack of quiet. He just wanted one peaceful shift. Just one. Please.

"I'd like to see you try, hero. And I'm not little." Dan spoke, startling all of them. His grip on Flash's arm tightened, making the speedster squeal before releasing the man and spitting out a mouthful of his blood. Batman noticed that his mouth didn't move despite the clearly spoken words. In fact, when Dan closed his mouth, it was like he didn't have one at all.

"So you do speak!" Superman marveled.

"Of course I do. I am not unintelligent, unlike you lot."

Despite his pain, Flash still made sounds of protest that everyone promptly ignored.

Superman flushed. "I just wasn't sure. It was hard to tell in the video."

"Ah, yes. The video that the Fenton menace sent you. Was there a note for me in the flash drive?"

"Uh, no." In one of his less finer moments, Green Lantern stuttered over his words and moved in front of Batman, obviously lying. Dan merely growled and flew through both men, heading straight for the giant monitor. Batman barely suppressed a shiver. Density shifting? Might as well add it to the list. He could see Martian Manhunter, who was in the back of the room, tilt his head at the display.

Dan ignored the room as he used his entire body to manipulate the computer mouse and scrolled back up to the top of the page. Staring intently at the scribbles no one could make out, the heroes could do nothing but shoot each other nervous and confused glances. More than a few of them jumped when Dan chuckled deeply. Honestly, his tiny body was at complete odds with his baritone voice.

"Maybe rehab will be fun if he's letting me do this." Dan sneered, flashing their reflections a sharp fang. No one wanted to ask what exactly he was in rehab for. The little beast turned his gaze to Batman. "You are the one called Batman, who rules the cursed city, correct?" The dark hero nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. "Excellent. You will be my chaperone for now, just as Fenton decreed it. Good luck, mortal man. Pray, I do not destroy your home a second time."

Without any time to unpack that conversation, Dan promptly disappeared from view. Some blinking text caught his attention, and Batman scrolled back down to the English text, glancing at the next few items on the list.

Task 2: Do not let Dan read his portion of this letter until you have a way to track him. There is no containing him.

Task 3: Keep him with a chaperone at all times. (If you can)

Task 4: Do not let Dan back into Gotham unless you're fine with a sudden decrease in the clown population.

Task 5: Take him for a walk in Death Valley. He likes hunting lizards.

Task 6: Make sure he goes down for his 2pm nap every day.

Task 7: He'll ask for it, but do not give him any burgers for mealtime. It upsets his stomach.

Task 8: Dan gets ONE(1) sweet after dinner before brushing his teeth. Those green pop rocks Batman always carries will do fine; he likes those. :)

A sudden alarm blared from his wristwatch, making Batman tear his eyes away from the screen, indicating an emergency at Arkham. This time, Batman actually sighed out loud. There was more to the list, but right now, he really needed to find their new charge before he killed the Joker, from the sound of it.

#pondhead replies #anon let me kiss you on the mouth (platonically)#danny phantom #little baby man danny #except he's dan #supervillain danny au #god i can't get the elongated cat meme image out of my head #you are a genius #if you didn't catch it gotham was the city he destroyed #what did fenton tell him to do you ask?#well dan is very good at hunting #causing chaos and bringing certain peoples to justice all over the world #like a reverse santa #he also gave dan permission to go buck wild on the joker if batman brought him to gotham #if batman didn't STOP his escape to gotham #that counts right?#long post #dpxdc

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