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washeduphazbin · 3 months

Note

Hi, I would like to ask for a smut from Adam x fem Reader, his dear wife is going to pay him a visit at his work and in the end they almost get paid for lute

New Eve (Adam x Fem! Wife! Reader)

-SMUT AHEAD MINORS DNI-

Other warnings: Adam Being Adam

I hope I wrote this ask and understood it correctly! Adam is my guilty pleasure. I love men who are dumb as rocks and who are going to be absolutely leashed by even stronger women.

REQUESTS OPEN

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

There's a saying that all good things come in threes, Lilith, Eve, and you. Adam's final wife, who physically couldn't be swayed by Lucifer because Adam had met you in Heaven. When you passed through the pearly gates, you were greeted by none other than the first human himself. You were in awe for about two seconds until you quickly gathered the first man was a complete and utter dickhead. He seemed to falter when you walked past him to greet an angel named Lute, Adam's second in command. She tensed a little as you introduced yourself, ignoring Adam's protests that dubbed you a Queen Mega Bitch.

All this to say, it took about three months before Lute caught Adam sticking his tongue down your throat with you latched onto him like a koala. You made a distressed sound at being caught while listening to Adam laugh above you. You distinctly heard him call your mouth as good as a vagina while pressing a kiss to your hairline. "Adam!" You hissed, pulling on the horns of his mask as he let out a defiant sound, "Inappropriate."

"Ugh yeah, that's kind of my thing, sugar tits."

"You need to not make it your thing, or this thing doesn't happen." You drew your line in the metaphorical sand before marching out of the room, faintly hearing Lute argue about Adam's behavior behind you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Two years later, you were Adam's new 'Eve' in heaven with two golden rings to prove the love that formed between the two of you...somehow. Did the both of you fight constantly? Yes. Did you want to wring his neck every time he opened the gaping hole he called a mouth? Also Yes. But did you love him...unfortunately. Even though he had a laundry list of bad habits, a vulgar mouth, and gross hobbies, he had his moments. He was protective, fiercely so, and despite his fuck boy personality, he only had his sights set on you. Lute often asked you what you saw in Adam, and you'd reluctantly sigh and give a tired grin, "He makes me laugh. Plus, with proper motivation, he's putty in my hand." Lute made a sound of understanding, nodding her head,

"Ah, yes. Use your feminine wiles to control those weaker than you, even if they may be physically stronger. We must use what we are given as women. Well, you must. I'm very strong without using that to my advantage."

"Yes, exactly," You snickered as Lute stopped outside Adam's office. "Which is exactly why Sera put me in charge of convincing Adam to meet with The Morningstar's daughter." You groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose, "I'll see you back here later, then?"

"Yes, ma'am." Lute bowed, "I wish you luck...you'll need it. He's in one of his moods." before taking off into the sky and down the hall. You reached up with a stretch of your arms, fluffing up your wings to look extra pretty before knocking on Adam's door,

"Adam." You hummed, knocking on the grand marble door once before opening it. You leaned against the entranceway, wings brushing against the floor, as his head shot up.

"Sugartits!"

"Not my name!" You dodged Adam's hug with a flurry of your wings; he grinned, shoving the door closed with his hip. "Adam," you said in warning as he used his angelic magic to fly towards you and trap you within his arms.

"and what would you prefer I call you? My Bitch? Wifey?" He mused, peppering sloppy kisses against your cheek and down your neck. "We could go with Queen or Goddess, preferably." You shot back, dragging Adam down to sit in his chair; you hummed gently, removing his mask from his face. He leaned back, kicking his legs up on the desk as you slid down into his chest, straddling his hips. You hummed, running your fingers through his brown hair, and he melted into your touch, "My name works, too."

"I guess we can settle on Queen. Does that make me your King?" Adam preened as you scratched under his chin,

"Without a doubt...but we must talk about the Young Morningstar."

"Who?" He made a faux confused face which you raised an eyebrow back at in response, "Ugh, Lucifer's cunt daughter. What about her?"

"She's been begging for a meeting. I suggest you meet with her." Your lips began to trail down his neck, nipping at his skin as his body flushed.

"But that's so much work, sugar." He groaned, running his clawed hands through your hair, "Can't I just say fuck off back to hell we're gonna exterminate all of you regardless."

"Sera wants you to at least meet with her one time; she's giving you a lot of trust to handle this on your own."

"And if I do what you ask, what'll you give me?" He mused, eyes sparkling. You huffed, hitting him with the back of your wing, and he laughed, "Come on, you gotta sweeten the deal for me, mama."

"You're such a bastard." You huffed, moving to pull your hair out of your face. He moved his legs to the ground, and you could slide between his knees. "Robe off unless you want dirty," you commanded as Adam fumbled out of it quickly.

"I love you~" He leaned back with a sly grin, hand reaching up to move your head closer to his lip. Your fingers spread across his thighs, and you huffed softly, looking up at him.

"I love you more. If I do this for you, you promise to meet with young Lady Morningstar?"

"You can't just fuck me because you love me?"

"Bite me." You sneered, but there wasn't any malice in your voice as he stood up, picking you up off the ground and pressing your back against his desk.

"Oh, it would be my pleasure. I can't say your robes will survive, though I might need to get you some new ones." Adam popped the buttons on your robe, allowing your body to be laid bare for his eyes. He watched your breathing hitch as his long claw trailed down your neck to your chest. "Fuck I love these puppies, you know that?" Adam grinned, grabbing fistfuls of your breasts, squeezing and kneading to his heart's content. Your husband was like an oversized golden retriever. When he sees something he likes, he obsesses over it like a man deranged. His favorite playthings of yours were your tits and ass. "Any meetings?"

"None. I'm yours for the rest of the day. You can mark me how you'd like; I'm yours, my husband. Well, until you meet with the Princess."

"Fuckkkkk yeah, baby, come 'ere." Adam dove between your breasts, and he felt you suck in air through your teeth. He began to bite and suck on the supple flesh of your chest; you keened, arching into his mouth, hands tangling in his brown hair. You could tell from the way his teeth would graze against your nipples and your flesh he was doing everything in his power to leave marks on the skin.

"Adam...ngh." You panted, feeling his hand move down from your breast to slide down your stomach and between your legs. "Shit," You squeaked, feeling him tease your clit with his thumb and forefinger with a dopey grin on his face.

"There's my favorite girl," He flicked your nub skillfully; for being a massive asshole, this prick sure knew where to find your clit. One finger slid between your folds, and you tossed your head against the cold marble desk. "Damn, only one finger has you acting up? I must not be treating you good enough," He purred as another finger entered you, stretching you out to be big enough for, 'the first ever man god created.' Adam watched with delight as your wings spread out and trembled, glowing with a soft golden glow. "That's it, you're being such a good girl for me. Are you ready?"

"Yes." You panted, "Adam, please."

"God, you beg so nicely, you little slut," His hand reached up to grip your throat, causing you to let out a desperate whine, hips bucking into his fingers. "Beg Harder," He demanded, moving your hand to palm him through his trousers, stiff and aching. "Look at how hard you make me. How desperate. I need you to worship your god."

"Yes, sir." You purred, "You're my God, Adam. I need you, I'd worship for your love, your touch, your dick." You dragged your hand up your chest, playing with the swell of your own breast, "Don't you want to make me happy, baby?"

"More than anything." Adam's eyes lit up in elation, "Stay with me. Don't go to Lucifer. You're mine." He snarled, hands around your throat, "Say it."

"I'm with you. Only you. Forever Adam." His entire body seemed to relax when you said that, pressing gentle kisses to your cheek and lips. "I love you, you annoying Dickweed."

"Love you more, Sugartits." He grinned cheekily before lowering himself to you with a hiss-like laugh. "Tight as ever, and that's why I love you,"

"If you keep talking nonsense while you're literally inside me, I'll cut off your dick,"

"Sounds kinky."

"Adam."

"Fine, Fine, you're so vanilla." He mused, albeit his tone was much softer, fonder than his earlier teasing. His hands grabbed under your knees and pressed you close with a snap of his hips. You both let out a moan, yours higher pitched and needier, bucking your hips, searching for more friction than he was currently providing. You always savored the way he was able to fill you up, he wasn't the longest but god was he thick filling you in all the right ways. Every time his hips snapped into you, you could feel just how deep he kissed your cervix. "Yeah, you like that?" He panted, "Like how deep I'm getting? From the way you're dripping, you're practically soaking through my table. Your vag is like a vice, babe, so tight for this big cock."

"Hm. Your words always know how to turn me o-ng-ff." You moaned out this end at a particularly sharp thrust of his hips. "Fuck you," You panted as he grinned down at you,

"Good news, wifey, that's exactly what we're doing-"

"Sir!" You let out a scream as Lute slammed the door of his office open, you climbed against Adam's body like an embarrassed Nun. He groaned, still inside you but having the decency to cover you with his wings.

"What do you need, Lute? I'm a little busy getting it on with my sexy ass wife." Adam complained, motioning to the top of your head, to which you made an embarrassed sound of mortification. "Can this be rescheduled or-"

"The Princess of Hell is here, Sir. She just showed up-"

"Are you for real telling me that the bitch Princess of Hell is seriously cucking me right now?!"

"...Yes."

"(Y/n) If I killed her for interrupting us, would you be pissed?"

"Beyond Adam."

"Fuck."

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #x reader #fem reader #adam x reader #adam x you #hazbin hotel adam x reader #smut #requests open #reader insert #hazbin hotel smut

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sttoru · 1 month

Text

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you leave megumi with your husband so you can make them breakfast. you quickly realise that that might have backfired.

wc. around 1.3k

tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. reader gets called ‘mama’ by both toji & megumi. half beta read.

“ow, careful there, brat.”

your husband’s deep voice echoes from within the bathroom. you’ve left megumi in his care this morning so you’d be able to make breakfast in peace. toji was all grumpy about it, since he had to wake up early when he had no work, but eventually agreed to your proposal.

you hum your favorite song while frying eggs. the sizzling in the pan did help avert your attention from toji’s grunts of annoyance somewhere in the distance, though only for a couple seconds. your hear your child’s laughter slip between the noises of aggravation. it piques your interest.

“one more time and i’m putting y’r ass in time out,” toji’s deep voice sounds muffled. he sounds rather serious about whatever is bothering him.

you turn the stove off and walk towards the hallway, standing at the doorframe as you look in the direction of the bathroom. you tilt your head and try your best to pick up on snippets of the conversation between your husband and son.

the sound of bottles dropping on the floor is the first thing that allows you to guess that megumi’s acting up. you know how mischievous your little toddler can get, especially at his age. toji isn’t one to gentle parent his kid—he tries to, of course, but sometimes he can’t help but be a bit rough.

“megumi fushiguro.”

you raise your eyebrows as toji uses your child’s full name. he rarely does, only when he’s really upset or about to lose his marbles. you decide to see what was going on for yourself. you walk towards the bathroom, cleaning your hands against the material of your apron. you knock once before pushing the door open.

you stick your head through the little gap, ready to identify the cause of the commotion. the first thing you notice is the chaos on the floor; bottles, tubes, toothbrushes, and all other kinds of products lay cluttered on the bathroom tiles.

your eyes then land on your husband’s broad and scarred back, “hey, honey. did something hap—”

your voice trails off once toji turns around, revealing the jaw dropping scene. nearly his entire face is covered in loads of shaving cream and even his black hair hasn’t escaped the soft foam.

the bathroom counter is completely wet, and the water runs down the edges in small drops. the culprit of this entire scene is sitting right on that same counter, clapping his dirty hands together that were smeared with toji’s shaving cream.

you blink and walk towards the two. you can’t possibly be mad at the sight, finding toji’s situation more funny than worrisome. You try to act serious and clear your throat, “uh, yeah. so what’s happened here?”

your husband rolls his eyes and nods his head at the little boy in front of him, who’s giggling and kicking his legs. toji tries to wipe the shaving cream from his nose, attempting to get it out of his hair as well, “i tried to be a good dad and include him in my morning routine, that’s what.”

the man clicks his tongue as he now realises how dumb of a mistake that was, “gave him the opportunity to put some shaving foam on my jaw ‘n the brat totally blew it. started attackin’ me with the stuff.”

toji grumbles. he wipes away the foam that got on the mirror afterwards. it’s nearly gotten everywhere. he lightly nudges megumi’s forehead with a scoff, “never again, y’hear? the little shit can’t sit still for even one second.”

that explains the stuff on the floor. you know that megumi could grow bored easily if he isn’t the centre of attention. he’d start doing anything to be the focus of his parents. toji probably didn’t pay him much mind, wanting to get his morning routine over with.

“language, honey.” you sigh and look down at megumi who’s still reaching his messy hands up to his dad.

toji huffs and leans back, not giving the little boy a chance to put more shaving cream on his face. he’s learnt his lesson; kids do not understand it when you tell them to ‘only put a little bit’.

megumi whines and threatens to throw a tantrum. you notice that immediately and try to keep his mind off things by picking him up. you turn on the faucet and try to wash his little hands, “c’mon. give mama your hands.”

the little boy shakes his head furiously, squirming in your embrace in attempt to get away. you sigh and grab his little wrists gently. you lower him to the sink, trying your best to wash away the shaving cream as the first step of solving this grande mess.

“no, mama!” megumi is stubborn as he voices his complains. toji watches from a distance whilst he struggles to clean the overload of shaving cream from his face.

you make the mistake of letting go of your child’s wrists to grab a washcloth. megumi takes his chance and pats his messy hands against your face, leaving you no space to process what he’s doing.

your mind takes a second before you realise what’s happening, “hey! quit it, ‘gumi.”

you try to grab ahold of megumi’s tiny hands again, but they move too fast for you. plus, he’s pretty skilled at avoiding yours. you can feel the foam slowly cover your entire face; from your jaw and cheeks, to your nose and forehead.

it was inevitable at this point.

“toji, do something,” you grunt and struggle to contain the energetic toddler in your arms. you take a peek at your husband and find him grinning at the predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.

toji simply shrugs and enjoys the fact that you’re experiencing exactly what he had experienced just moments ago. seeing you struggle to contain your disobedient child only proves that his parenting skills are not the problem in this situation, your toddler is.

“ye did that to y’rself, mama.” toji hums in amusement. he leans against the wall, the blue towel now loosely hanging off head after he’s given up on getting the foam out of his hair, “now y’know what i’m talkin’ about. he’s a lil’ monster.”

megumi squeals in victory after he’s gotten both his parents covered in shaving cream. you want to say something to your child, but you’re at a loss for words. even now, you cannot bring yourself to be mad at him. he’s just a kid who’s having fun with his parents.

“i made mama pretty! hehe.” megumi grins and encourages you to look in the mirror. he points at your reflection and awaits the words of confirmation. his blue eyes look up at you, nearly sparkling with joy, admiring how pretty he’s made you look with that white foam all over your face.

toji joins in on the fun. he comes to stand behind you, looking at you through the mirror. he snickers, already forgotten about his irritations that occurred in the first place. he nods in approval at megumi’s words, “gotta agree, son. y’r mama looks much prettier like this.”

your husband’s teasing comment adds fuel to the fire. though again, you cannot bring yourself to be upset at the situation.

you look at the reflection in the dirty mirror. you all may appear disheveled due to the foamy mess on your bodies—and yet even at that moment—the only thing you actually manage to see is a happy family of three.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #jjk fluff #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk x you #toji x y/n #jjk x y/n #female reader #divider by cafekitsune

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tojipie · 11 months

Note

can i request y/n’s reaction to toji going to jail? like was she there for the arrest.. how did toji break the news?

partial continuation to this ask !

his crime is finally revealed ! mwahaaha. if i printed out every comment asking me to assign him a crime to go along with his prison sentence i’d be able to cover the state of texas. probs my longest work! and this isn’t even that long so what does that say about me? (poor work ethic)

prison bf series linked here !

content: angst, hurt/comfort, lots of fighting, themes of incarceration

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“can i ask you something?” you mumble, rolling onto your stomach to address your boyfriend face to face.

toji pauses, then nods, blowing an acrid plume of smoke towards the ceiling before passing you the cigarette he had pinched between two fingers.

a buzzer sounds from the tv in front of you followed by a sea of excited cheers.

“fuck!” he curses. bringing his fist down on the mattress. “i have 6 grand on this fucking match.”

you wait for his hand to unclench before tapping him, reminding him of your inquiry.

“yeah— yeah. what’s up?” he mumbles, squeezing the fat of your arm affectionately. toji takes what’s left of the cigarette back from you, stubbing it out in the marble ashtray on his bedside table.

“you never told me what you do for work.” the implication hangs heavy in the air as you wait for him to explain, the last bits of smoke around the two of you begin to dissipate. you realize he’s gone rigid.

“business, lots of things.” he says curtly, fishing a pack of marlboro reds from the side hesitantly. you hate when he does this, keeping his hands occupied so he has an excuse to not speak to you.

“right, but like..” you start, growing frustrated. “what kind of business.”

“real estate… y’know.” he smacks the carton against the butt of his hand, then fishes out a stick.

“property management. investing and all that.” he sounds a little more confident this time, cupping a lighter to his mouth with a cough.

you tear yourself from his arms and sit up on the bed, eyes cast on his. you practically feel his stomach drop from how he looks at you, movements laced with caution and hesitance.

“put that out.” you tell him. “stop playing games with me.”

“what?” he laugh’s incredulously, still trying to maintain his confident facade.

“do you not think it’s fucking weird that i don’t know where all your money comes from? do you even pay for this fucking house?” your patience had officially run out, you were pissed.

“nonono— hey— hey c’mon.” toji grapples for your hands, quickly trying to calm you down.

“you don’t do fucking real estate, do you really think i’m that stupid?” your accusation renders him speechless for a moment as he thinks of what to say.

the older man’s expression twists as guilt starts to usher in. he extinguishes the roll-up in his hand, flicking it into the ash tray on your nightstand before reaching for you softly.

“baby..” he chuckles, snaking two palms around the curve of your waist. “don’t be like that.”

“i know it’s illegal. i know it is and i’m not even mad, toji. i’m not .. i just want to know.”

he sighs, running a hand down the side of his face.

“you think just because we eat good that i wouldn’t ask questions down the line? do you think i’m fucking stupid?”

“no.” he whines. “no, fuck. c’mon.” you smack his hands away as he reaches for you once more, tearing yourself off the bed and out into the hallway.

you hear your name boom behind you angrily as he calls out for you a final time. glass shatters against the ground as he mutters to himself, heavy footsteps pacing back and forth.

─

you’re not unaware of toji’s presence as the older man stands in front of your curled up form on the couch. it’s dark, probably just after 3am. too dark to see his expression, though you know he’s frowning.

he lets out a quiet sound of realization as you turn over, rucking the blanket over your head to drown his presence out. the windows are open, you can feel the chill of the night breeze, even under your comforter.

“i can’t let you sleep here, pretty. that’s not right.”

you stay silent, holding your breath as you wait for him to either leave or fess up.

it’s quiet for a while. you slowly feel yourself being pulled into the precipice between sleep and awareness. an all-consuming warmth makes its home in your chest before you’re quickly struck back awake, heart jumpstarting at the sound of his voice.

“i invest in properties.” he whispers, kneeling beside you so you can hear him more clearly.

“i make investments in properties and then i let people store.. product there.” you know he isn’t lying to you this time. you feel it in his tone.

“product?” you grumble, your voice laced with sleep. you know exactly what he means, you just want to hear him say it.

“drugs, baby. warehouses.”

it’s quiet once more as you mull over what to say back. were you surprised? hardly. you knew what you were getting into as soon as you got involved with him. were you mad? well it was still hard to tell.

“ok.” you mumble curtly, throwing the covers towards your feet and stalking towards the master bedroom. you knew now, and that was that. you gathered there was no reason to keep fighting about it.

toji stands a little too quickly, watching your form disappear up the stairs.

“wait—” he starts, head spinning at your sudden acceptance. “wait really?”

“just come to bed.” you holler, sighing dryly to yourself at the sheer ridiculousness of it it all.

─

toji had a plan in place even before you’d found out what kind of business he was running. if anything were to happen to him, there would be a fund stored overseas for you to dig into while he wasn’t there to put food on the table.

he’d thought of everything, put measures in place that normal people wouldn’t even think of before it was too late.

he had your shared house put under a family member’s name, hired private security to watch the perimeter of the house 24/7, urged you to use a fake ID in public to conceal your real name, and never ever took you to work meetings.

it just wasn’t enough.

it wasn’t enough to keep his phones from getting tapped. it wasn’t enough to stop an investigation from being launched, and it simply just wasn’t enough to keep him under the radar and out of a prison cell.

you wailed like a baby when the bailiffs snapped those silver cuffs on his arms and led him out of the court room, crumpling to the floor and babbling nonsense towards the judge’s podium like it would somehow change the course of what just happened.

7 years in a federal penitentiary. and that was nothing compared to the sentence they would’ve gave him if his men hadn’t taken half of the fall for him.

toji didn’t look at you.

he didn’t so much as spare you a glance as you sat there on the carpeted floor, screaming into your hands while the bailiffs tried to pick you up off of the floor.

he didn’t say anything to you as you kicked and scratched your way towards his lawyer, hurling expletives and threats to the one person who was tasked with maintaining his freedom.

he didn’t look because he couldn’t.

he couldn’t look at you, his only girl. the girl he’d marry someday, the one he’d raise a family with. he couldn’t look at you because if he did he might risk breaking down right then and there.

he might risk grabbing you by the arm and booking it, going underground for the rest of your lives while his name slowly climbed up the nation’s most wanted list.

he could do it, without question. he’d be more cautious this time. but that just wouldn’t be fair to you. he was done roping you into his mess.

you were young, gorgeous, too good for all of that trouble. you’d worked all your life to get by until he met you, slowly letting down your walls, letting him spoil you like you’d always deserved. and what kind of man would he be if he took that away from you and forced the two of you into hiding?

toji felt himself crumble as reality began to sink in. his stomach dropped with each dreaded step towards his holding room. this was no joke. this was his fate and there was no getting out of it.

“wait.” he tells the bailiffs, whipping his head towards the direction of the courtroom in a panic. he wasn’t the boss anymore. these men didn’t answer to him.

“wait, fuck. wait!” he groans, barreling his way back down the hall. he needed to see you, needed to say goodbye. there’s no telling when they’d let you two visit or if you’d even be able to communicate. god, this was real.

god, he was a coward for giving you the silent treatment. he deserved prison just for that.

toji grunts as he’s tackled to the ground, gloved hands securing shackles on his ankles.

“get offa me. get off— fuck. i wanna see her.” he groans, thrashing as security circles his form. “nonono let me see her! fuck— fuck!”

all he can do is listen to you wail as he’s dragged down the hall, screaming out to you in hopes you hear him.

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neo-percs · 7 months

Text

SPANKING:: ( day 10 )

WARNING:: spanking, unprotected sex, fingering, dacryphilia, teasing, hair pulling.

SUMMARY:: if you had just kept your mouth shut instead of mouthing off in a moment of irritation you wouldn't have been bent over Jun's lap sniffling from tears of pleasure.

WORD COUNT:: 1.5K

"Harder please" you moan as you feel Jun's nails dig into your waist while one hand his between your thighs inflicting pleasure. The sopping sound fills the room along with your heavy breathing as he whispers sweet nothing into your ears guiding you to a much wanted orgasm. "You're so needy, what's got you all worked up hm?" He asks as he curls his fingers sending a shiver up your thighs.

"I wanna cum so bad, please don't stop" you sniffle feeling tears build up and stick to your eye lashes. "I asked you a question" he reminded you as continues to slow his thrusts into your pussy each one becoming more tantalizing you almost roll your hips against his hand to get yourself off. "God your so frustrating" you groan feeling your skin become heated in embarrassment how easily he could make you beg.

"Yeah? You getting upset?" He asks as he stops as a whole making you whine. Clutching the sheets tightly under you "fuck you" you groan finally letting out words of anger. "That's how you want to do this?" He asks with a scoff "yeah I do. At this point I could get myself off" you snap only for your mouth to shut in an instant as you feel a tight grip on your hair.

"You're so fucking desperate to cum aren't you?" Junhui not backing down an inch as his grip tightens

You whimper at the pain. Almost tugging you like a rag doll he shifts you around until your half clothed body is situated over his lap with your chest and face digging into the mattress. "Don't go all quiet now, you had so much to say and now you don't?" He says you feel a slight sting on your bare ass making you yelp.

His palm rubs over the spot as he still grips at your hair. Another painful slap landing on your skin making you let out a moan, the feeling becoming less painful and more filled with pleasure. Your hips jerk at each slap almost becoming numb to the hits your own body betraying you as your thighs glisten in slick showing just how turned on you've become over all of this.

You couldn't get enough. "You done back talking? Or do you want me to keep going because I can keep going" he says sternly you feel a flutter in your lower stomach you didn't know what mess you would become with either option but you decided to pick which one sounded like would bring you closer to an orgasm. "I'm done, I swear I won't complain" you sniffle in a low voice hoping he'd bite on the bait.

He did. Letting go of your hair you sit up on your knees to meet the list driven gaze written all over his face. You lay down on your stomach with no guidance or demands your skin feeling sensitive from the hits the took on it you wince softly. Looking back at the blonde man stripping down to utterly nothing you had no choice but to stare in awe.

His palms holding your bare breasts needing them in his hands, you let out a small whimper, you felt his dick poking at the back of your thigh as he kissed at your neck marking you with purple and red splotched hickeys that were determined to bruise over as the minutes pass slowly. Your back arched as your ass pressed against him, your hands grip at the marble counter "please just fuck me" you whisper needily. Jun bites his lips as the sound of your desperate voice resides in his ears.

Nodding he grabs the base of his dick letting his tip rub against your slit teasingly as he groans feeling the way you were soaked, his hand grabbing at your ass squeezing, seeing your pussy glistening jerking himself off at the sight still in sight of your pretty pussy on display. His tip presses against your entrance feeling him push his tip in, the stretch makes the both of you wince. The burning feeling gives a sort of pleasure as he lets his shaft sink deeper into your rigid walls.

The sound of your pussy squelching makes you clench around him moaning lowly. Your moans were weak and it made Jun want to hear you, even more, he wanted everyone to hear you. His hips began to push harder into you making you moan louder in huffs. Your chest is bouncing.

"Fuck- Jun you feel so good" you slur as the sounds coming from your lips make it hard for the boy to choke back his moans his hand leaving your waist to your neck putting little pressure as he pulls your back to his firm chest. You let your hips bounce in his lap with every roll of his hips as the sound of skin against skin resides in the air. Your eyes were closed as you fuck yourself on his dick and you were just overwhelmed with pleasure while hearing his moans in your ear.

he continuously pounds into you. Letting go of the fabric of your shirt that belongs to him Jun grabs a hold of your throat forcing you to open your eyes out of shock you seeing the way Jun's hands touched your body made you moan loudly, Your hand falling off the counter top you slip your fingers between your thighs to rub your clit.

The wet and sloppy sounds echo in the bedroom halls as your breathing becomes shallow from the pressure around your throat. Whimpering at his dirty words "I asked you a question" he grunted as his pace became brutal and almost bruising. The feeling of your orgasm churning in the pit of your stomach makes your moans become short "i'm close, please don't stop" you beg feeling his tip rub against a spot that made your eyes roll back.

was hitting spots nobody had never even touched before when you had sex that made you slur out whines as your hand falls from between your thighs. "right there! Please don't fucking stop" you moan letting your eyes roll back at the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix repeatedly with each hard thrust.

Pushing your back against his chest Jun could hear the harsh sound of skin on skin and immediately felt himself tipping over the edge at the feeling "right here? Does it feel good like this?" He moaned breathily as he practically shivered at the feeling of your pussy clenching down on him harder.

You nod eagerly as you feel the same pressure at the pit of your stomach "touch yourself for me" he groaned tossing his back, you let your hand slip between your spread legs that jiggled with each hard deep thrust as your middle and ring finger rub small circles on your clit.

You whine as Jun lets out a string of moans continuously pounding into you. You let your head fall back on his shoulder as you moan his name loudly, the feeling of your orgasm approaching vastly you lift your head "I'm gonna cum" you say as your lungs burn. "Wait. I'm close too" he ordered and you listened, you tried hard to hold your orgasm and it wasn't until you felt Jun start twitching inside your spasming walls had you decided to move your hips against his speeding up the pace as you were crying out for your orgasm.

thick pearl spurts painting the inside of your walls. You feel full and warm, you bite your swollen lips. Lazily bucking his hips into you Jun fucking his cum deeper inside until he felt overstimulation creep up on him. Your legs are shaking yet you didn't care. "You can give me one more right?" he asks, cooing at your quivering hips. Your hands shaking to grab at his hand that was on your throat, "yes" you moan as you bounce your hips chasing one more orgasm.

Jun feels his hips involuntarily buck with overstimulation as he curses under his breath "fuck, fuck, fuck, how are you still so tight?" he moans letting his head fall into your shoulder losing himself. His hand falls from your throat and grabs at the fabric of your shirt again tighter. Watching the way your ass bounced on his dick while a white ring of your cum mixed with his formed around his base.

Your breathing is shaky as the pressure in the pit of your stomach becomes more tight "im gonna cum ag-again" you slur as you feel Jun pound you mercilessly. You knew that you were wrecked as you were met with the view in the mirror shakily being fucked while Jun felt a wave of ecstacy as you clench around him "fuck" he let out a gutteral moan as you both cum. His thrusts finally slow down as another warm load of cum fills your overstimulated pussy.

Your legs were weak and your thighs were sore, Jun softened inside you pulling out slowly watching as his cum dripped from your pussy, he felt himself twitch at the sight.

#𖦹—( neo percs )#seventeen smut #jun smut #jun x reader #jun imagines #scoups smut #joshua smut #hoshi smut #mingyu smut #wonwoo smut

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circe69 · 1 year

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this goes out to all my migraine babies out there

"I take it you didn't use the medicine when you were supposed to," Soap said as you stumbled into the kitchen, crooked sunglasses sitting on your nose and a large water bottle placed in your sweaty hands.

You were in too much pain to even talk, but there was always room for sarcasm. "What gave it away?" You taunted back, restlessly pulling a chair out from under one of the tables and cringing as the metal screeched across the floor, hurting your already sore eardrums even more.

"You've got to take it at some point, that stuff was bloody expensive."

Price was in the middle of a sports section in his week-old newspaper when he decided it was a good time to rile you up even more. He didn't even have to look up to know that your eyebrows were furrowing so hard they were bound to fall off.

You cleared your throat and took a sip of your ice-cold water before speaking, "Yeah well, I just don't like shots. And that needle is huge, mind you. I'll be fine, I'm sure there'll be a worse one in the future." Price and Soap continued to grunt, along with Gaz as he clicked his tongue at your comment and continued to scroll on his phone.

Ghost walked in a few minutes later and he noticed two things upon entry: your head being on the table, and the epi-pen looking drug sticking out from your bag. He was stealthy without trying, and even though everyone else noticed when he arrived, you didn't.

He knew exactly what was happening, and he was tired of all your excuses, so Ghost did what he did best.

A sneak attack.

He signaled to the rest of the guys what he was about to do and didn't start until he received nods of confirmation. Everyone was on the same page. A few more steps, and Ghost was right behind the chair you were sitting in, sleeping in. He grabbed the injection as Price and Gaz slowly stood up and started walking towards you. Soap took the long way after taking a huge gulp of coffee and making his way to the corner behind Ghost, in case you tried to run.

With the medicine in hand, Ghost got down on his knees to the side of you, so he was on your level. One of his hands moved carefully to rest on the small of your back, and the other on your thigh. As you started to stir awake from the contact, that's when he made his main move.

"Now!" Soap shouted from behind the two of you, and Ghost abruptly grabbed your hips and pulled you on top of his lap to where he was sitting on the marble floor. You finally woke up as you fell on top of him. "Wait, wait wait wait no-" You tried to counter, but it was no use. With one hand, Ghost grabbed both of yours and pulled them behind your back so you couldn't fight back. At the same time, he snapped his fingers and signaled to Gaz to pull up your shorts leg and hold your thigh.

It seemed like only a few seconds to them, but years for you. You tried to not make noises, afraid that Ghost and the others would end up teasing you for the rest of your life. Once he uncapped the pen, he tightened his grip on both of your hands and injected the medicine right in the middle of where Gaz was holding your skin, a perfect bullseye.

A few tears ended up slipping out down your cheeks, just a few, and they dried up for the most part after you felt Ghost's hand squeeze your thigh, "Good girl, you got it," he whispered as he stood up, helping you as well.

His hand rested on your back as he guided you to a chair and placed a band aid on your fresh puncture. "All better."

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #ghost cod #ghost imagine #ghost x y/n #simon riley #modern warfare #circe69scribbles

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jasminsstories · 3 months

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How finals week with Zayne by your side would be…probably:

gn!reader x zayne / fluff; just for fun, don’t take this seriously pls

will try to support you as much as he can, since he knows best how hard studying is

“I told you to start earlier than to cram the material in the last minute. It won’t stick in your long-term memory this way” “Zayne, I don’t care if it sticks in my long-term memory as long as I pass this exam”

“Come here and eat this before continuing”

Basically drags you daily to the kitchen table where he prepared healthy meals

“But why do only I have carrots in my salad?” “Because you need Vitamin B to stay fit for your exams” “Just say you gave all of your carrots to me, because you don’t like them!”

“If you continue to drink so much coffee, I am afraid I will see you in the ER soon because of arrhythmia… and I don’t want that” “Zayne, you can’t just hide my coffee machine!!”

opens the windows regularly to help you concentrate and makes sure you stay hydrated

definitely will try to lure you out for walks to get some steps in

“Didn’t you say you wanted to see the sunset?” “I do, I really want… but I have to get this done today” “Let’s go, you need some Vitamin D” *suddenly lifts you up bridal style* “Hey, let me down!!” *acts like he doesn’t hear you*

the more time passes and the deeper the night gets with every passing minute, you can’t stop yawning and rubbing your heavy eyelids; still you try to focus them on your bright notebook screen

“Go to sleep. You have to get enough sleep to function tomorrow as well” “I can’t afford to sleep now. Sleep can wait, the deadline for my essay won’t”

tries to get you to bed through various methods

first tries to make it less obvious and wants to make you jealous through your plushies

“Then Mr. Snowman will have to cuddle with me today..” “Mhmmm”

But quickly realizes that it doesn’t work and you don’t react to it

for his second try he sneaks up to you from behind and puts his hands on your waist, pressing a lingering kiss on the shell of your ear, whispering a tempting “Come to bed with me”

you try to stay strong though and ignore his attempt with the last endurance you have

the next time he comes up to your desk for his third attempt, he finds you asleep already, your face planted on the surface of your desk

he can’t hold back a chuckle and a fond glow is in his orbs as he gazes at your face; just looks at you for some minutes

carefully picks you up and carries you to bed, trying his hardest not to wake you up; whispers a “Good night, my angel” and gives your forehead a small kiss

tucks you to bed and will lay down beside you to watch you sleep

when you wake up the next morning you begin to panic because you weren’t able to pull the all-nighter you desperately needed to finish on time

“Breathe, Love. Don’t worry. You can do it, I know it”

“I look kinda like a Panda now with my dark circles, don’t I?” “Yeah…kinda. Maybe more like a raccoon”

when you are finally done with all of your exams and your essays, he will pat your head and smile proudly; “Good job, I knew you can do it”

with a relieved sigh you press a loving kiss on his lips

and now you can finally get revenge for the times he teased you

just the brain rot i have in my finals week. i am quite literally losing my marbles right now, so i needed some zayne fluff. did i write this instead of studying…maybe. i need this man so bad. actually working on a smut atm but since its been so long since i wrote one, it’s hard for me to get into the flow right now.

#zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #zayne x reader #zayne fluff #zayne fanfic #zayne x you

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babydollmarauders · 4 months

Text

CHRISTMAS COOKIES — DAWSON MERCER

dawson mercer x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which baking christmas cookies with her boyfriend leads to y/n getting sticky

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, p in v (unprotected), nipple play, food play. (2.5k words)

notes: welcome to day 5 of the 12 days of kinkmas! i wrote this smut in…october! i tried something a bit different with this one, i hope y’all enjoy it!

“i’m gonna start on the wet ingredients, you think you can handle the dry ones?” i survey the countertop as i speak, containers of flour, sugar, and the likes all spread across the marble counter.

“yeah, i can do that.” Dawson nods, seeming confident, and i press a quick kiss to his cheek before i retreat to the mixer on the other side of the counter.

“uh… what’s the dry ingredients?” my boyfriend questions, making me turn back to see him staring at the ingredients with bewilderment. “they all seem dry to me.”

his head snaps up at the sound of my giggle, pasting a confused smile on his face.

“okay, how about i make the cookie dough, and you make the icing?” i suggest, and his shoulders slump in relief, nodding his head.

“that, i can handle.” he grins, switching places with me so he’s by the standing mixer.

i can use the hand mixer for the wet ingredients of the cookies, but i’m not sure i trust Dawson to not make a mess of the icing with the hand mixer.

we work in tandem, a gentle flow of holiday music pouring out from the alexa in the living room as we do our jobs.

it’s mainly silent between us, both focused on our own tasks; the only words being those of asking each other to hand the other something.

i’m nearly done rolling out the dough when Dawson comes over, proudly grasping the mixing bowl of icing. his hands are covered in powdered sugar, a wide, prideful smile on his face.

“i’m done!” he states, setting the bowl on the counter beside me so i can see.

“it looks great! good job, babe!” i cheer, transferring the dough onto a cookie sheet before popping it in the fridge to chill.

i turn back to my boyfriend, who stands at the counter, playing with leftover flour that i had sprinkled down to keep the dough from sticking to the countertops.

he perks up as i walk back over to him, a wet washcloth grasped in my hands to clean up the mess. the ingredients already taken care of, due to my tidy tendency of putting them away as i work.

“now what?” he asks me, watching as i wipe off the counter.

“well, the dough has to chill for at least an hour.” i explain, “so we can do whatever you want.”

a spark ignites in his eyes, and i know i should’ve chosen my words more carefully.

“whatever i want?” he repeats, taking a step forward. the front of his body presses against mine, his head dipping down to capture my lips with his.

he tastes sweet and sugary, like the icing he just made. his hands snake around to rest on my butt, and when he pulls his lips from mine, he chuckles.

“what are you laughing about?” i raise a brow, and when he brings his hands up to show them to me, they’re still covered in powdered sugar and flour. “oh my god!”

a lighthearted gasp escapes my lips, twisting and contorting my body to try and see my ass. when i do, i find two white powdered handprints on my black leggings.

“oh, you asshole!” i huff, turning back to glare at him as he now washes his hands at the sink, but he just laughs, knowing i don’t mean it. “you did that on purpose!”

“so what if i did?” he teases, watching me try and swat the white powder from the fabric.

i roll my eyes when i see that it’s only spreading it rather than getting rid of it.

“now i’ve gotta wash these.” i push the leggings down my legs, stepping out of them and leaving me in Dawson’s oversized t-shirt.

crumpling the black pants up in my hands, i make my way to the laundry room, stuffing them in the washer to join the other clothes that have sat in there far too long, and add detergent before pressing start.

“you know, that was mean!” i call out as i walk back to the kitchen. “you know those were my last clean pair.”

Dawson is leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest and a lopsided smirk on his face.

“i’m sorry.” he feigns a pout, uncrossing his arms in order to let his hands grip my sides, pulling me flush against him. “i guess i’ll have to make it up to you.”

“and how do you plan on doing that?” my hands lay flat against his chest, my head craned to peer up at him. my tone is sultry and slow, and the way he looks down at me, with eyes full of lust, i think i know exactly what he has planned.

he spins us around, caging me against the counter, while his lips meet mine. the once sweet and soft kiss that we shared just moments ago is gone, replaced by one of passion and desire. his tongue flicks across my bottom lip, coercing me into opening them, his tongue slipping through to mingle with mine.

his now clean hands slide down my hips, gripping my ass harshly and pulling my hips against his. a throaty moan is pulled from me as i feel his quickly hardening erection against my core, grinding against him in a steady pace.

i’m abruptly swept off my feet, deposited onto the counter without our kiss ever breaking. my body shivers, my back arching at the cold marble against my heated skin. my legs wrap around his waist, using them to pull him even closer against me, if even possible.

“i need you.” i breathe against his lips, and he nods, tilting chin forward to kiss me again.

his hands begin playing with the hem of my t-shirt, slipping underneath. his hands drag up my torso, brushing along the underside of my breasts before he cups beneath them.

he pulls his lips away, our heavy breaths mingling. pulling off my top, he leaves me in nothing but my cotton panties. his eyes lock on my breasts, my nipples stiff and peaked against the cold December air that the open living room window brings in.

“close your eyes.” he whispers, his breath fanning across the side of my face as he leans forward.

i follow his command, squeezing my eyes shut. my heart races in wonder and confusion, especially when i hear a clatter and screech of metal against the counter.

i open my mouth, about to question his actions, when i’m cut off by something cold and thick spread across my nipples. my breath hitches in my throat, my eyes flying open to gauge his actions.

Dawson stands between my spread legs, his index finger covered in icing, and when i peek down at my chest, i find icing dripping down my breasts.

“oh.” my teeth sink into my bottom lip as i watch him smirk. his eyes lock with mine, staring back at me as he slowly descends to my chest, his tongue darting out.

he licks up my left breast, following the path of dripping icing until he reaches my nipple. my chest heaves as he reaches his desired destination, his lips closing around the stiff peaks, sucking it into his mouth. his tongue swirls around it, collecting the icing.

“oh.” my hand cups the back of his neck, gripping his hair to ground myself amongst the immense pleasure. shockwaves wrack my body, my back arching and my jaw going slack as my head tilts back, my eyes squeezing shut.

he pulls off with a pop, his fingers replacing his lips while he switches to my other breast. while one nipple is pinched and circled by his thumb, the other is licked and drawn into his mouth.

once he’s sucked all the icing off, his hand splays across my chest, pushing me down onto the counter. he dips his finger back into the icing, spreading a line up my torso before dipping in again and slathering it on my nipples once more.

he stares into my eyes, pressing his finger to my lips, and i part them, allowing the digit to push against my tongue. remaining eye contact, i close my lips around him, sucking and swirling my tongue around, licking his finger clean from the icing.

Dawson lets out a groan, his hips rolling against mine in the heat of the moment, prior to pulling his hand away.

he dips down again, pressing a kiss to my lower stomach before letting his tongue drag up my abdomen, licking up the icing. my body tenses as he does so, leaving behind a trail of sticky saliva in his wake. as he reaches my cleavage, he presses open mouthed kisses up my sternum before trailing off towards my left nipple. he licks around it, swirling his tongue and sucking.

my hand flies up to grip the edge of the countertop above my head, the other tangling in his fluffy dark blonde tresses. a cry of pleasure echoes throughout the kitchen, and it takes me a second to even realize it’s my sound.

he kisses his way across to my other breast, repeating the process as his fingers pinch and pull on the hardened peak that his lips just abandoned.

a knot forms in my stomach, tangling and twisting as he goes. my toes curl, my brows furrowing and my back arching as chin tilts up towards the ceiling. a strangled moan falls from my lips, my body convulsing slightly as my orgasm washes over me.

at my heavy breathing and high pitched whimpers, Dawson pulls away, a smirk on his lips as he looks down at me in my blissed state.

“did you just…?” he trails off, chuckling as i nod. “i didn’t know you could do that.”

“me neither.” i shudder, sitting up.

my skin feels tacky from the icing, but i push that thought to the side, cupping the nape of his neck with both hands. i pull him forward, crashing my lips against his.

“that was so fucking hot.” he mutters into the kiss, momentarily getting distracted when i begin to tug his shirt up.

“i want you to fuck me.”

at my words, he pulls away, his hands pulling his shirt over his head before he pulls me in for another kiss. his thumbs hook into the sides of my panties and i lean back on my hands, lifting my hips and allowing him to pull the cotton fabric down my legs.

the cold air hits against my slick heat, resulting in shivers across my body, making Dawson chuckle lowly.

“so pretty,” he compliments, lazily dragging the back of his knuckles down my stomach. “all naked for me.”

his fingers find my core, sliding through my cum. his eyes find mine, holding the contact as he brings his fingers up to his lips, sucking them clean.

i moan at the sight, tugging at his jeans. my fingers fumble with his button and his hands shoo mine away, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping, tugging his pants and boxers down his legs and stepping out.

his dick springs up, slapping against his abdomen, and my pussy clenches at the sight. his tip is red and swollen, a bead of pre-cum leaking out.

i reach forward, gently grasping the base, and giving it a light tug.

“don’t be a tease, baby.” he gruffs out, hands gripping my waist as he yanks me off the counter.

i let go in surprise and he spins me around, pushing me down and bending me over the counter. he wastes no time in running his cock through the wetness of my folds, groaning at the feeling. i can feel his dick prod at my entrance as he lines up, sliding in easily, and my breath catches as he fills me up.

“fuck, you’re so perfect.” he grunts, bottoming out inside of me. one of my hands splays flat on the counter, the other reaching down to my hip, clawing his hand away in order to hold it in mine.

“please move.” i whisper, barely audible over the christmas music that still drifts throughout the kitchen.

Dawson leans forward, swiping my hair to the side and over my shoulder. his bare chest presses against my back as he leaves wet kisses to the back of my neck, his hips snapping as he begins to thrust.

he brings our hands to the countertop, laying my palm flat with his resting on top of it, while his other hand snakes around the front of to gently rub my clit.

an outward gasp drops from my parted lips, pushing my hips back to meet him.

the more time passes, the harder his thrusts get, until my hips are hitting the edge of the counter with each stroke, surely getting bruised in the process.

“shit, i don’t know if i’m gonna last.” his voice is tight, words sounding as though spoken through clenched teeth, and i nod in agreement.

“i’m so close, Daws!” in contrast to the last time i spoke, i’m practically yelling now, my climax building with each stroke and each circular rub of my clit.

my legs feel close to giving out, my back arching to hit a new angle. his thrusts are turning sloppy, the rhythm leaving, and i feel his abs flex against my back, letting me know he’s close.

his finger speeds up, pushing me closer and closer until the edge, until finally the pleasure becomes too much. my legs begin to shake, my walls tightening around him, hitting my orgasm and spurring on his.

Dawson continues fucking me through our releases, fucking his cum deeper into me as he does so. once i’ve come down from my high, i reach back, pushing him away by the hip, and he stops, his heavy breaths mixing with mine as i spin around to face him.

he’s got a small smile as he pants, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against his chest. i lay my head against him, listening to his heart pound, slowly but surely evening back out to its normal pace.

i mentally cringe at a realization. he’s supposed to bring these cookies tomorrow during morning skate before the game against the Flyers.

“well, i think we might have to make more icing.” i joke, gaining a laugh from my boyfriend.

“there’s still plenty!” he remarks, looking down at me with a mischievous grin.

“Dawson, that is so unsanitary! we can’t give the team christmas cookies made with icing that your hands were in!” he opens his mouth as though to argue with me but i cut him off before he can start. “your hands, which had touched my boobs!”

a look of possession dawns across his face and he nods, “you’re right, they’re not inadvertently tasting you.”

“oh gross, babe!” i chuckle, pulling away from him. my chest peels from his, still sticky from the icing, and i cringe.

“i need a shower.”

Dawson scoffs as i walk away, heading towards our bedroom, and i’m almost there when i look over my shoulder.

“you coming?” i call out. i can’t hold back my giggle when i hear his footsteps slapping against the tile and then hardwood, catching up with me.

he raises an eyebrow, pointing back towards our christmas tree in the living room as he speaks.

“if i ever say no to that question, i want you to choke me with that garland.”

#faithlynn’s 12 days of kinkmas #dawson mercer #dawson mercer x reader #dawson mercer imagine #dawson mercer smut #dawson mercer fic #dawson mercer blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl smut #faithlynn’s writings <3

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chibieggplant · 1 month

Text

Confessions with Penguin

My boy Penguin doesn’t get enough love. No warnings just banter and fluff.

You sat eating your lunch watching your other crew mates converse and joke with each other when suddenly you were jolted out of your little world feeling a nudge on your shoulder.

“Hey! I told you to stop doing that” You grumble as you rub your arm.

"What, this?" Penguin nudges your shoulder again as he takes the seat next to you.

You swipe his hat from his head in retaliation as he sits down.

"Hey, give that back!" he protests with a smile as he tries to grab his hat back.

“Nuh uh!” you pull the hat down snug on your head sticking your tongue out him.

Penguin lets out an exasperated sigh. "Fine, but can I at least get my hat back after lunch?" He didn’t take his hat off…ever, but he couldn’t deny you did look pretty cute in it so he would make an exception.

“You’ll get it back when you promise to stop nudging me”

"Fine, fine. I swear I won't nudge you again" He said, crossing his fingers behind his back.

“Do you think I’m an idiot? That wasn’t a proper promise” you smirk adjusting his hat on your head proudly.

"What do you want from me? Blood?" he says in a pouty voice, crossing his arms.

“Yeah! I want you to make a solom vow”

"You're impossible" he rolled his eyes as he nudged you again.

“And you’re annoying” you say with a smile not really meaning it.

"Shut up" he said playfully, punching you in the arm lightly this time.

“Point proven” you laugh punching his arm back.

"Oh, you wanna go?" he asked playfully, pretending to throw a punch your way.

“You’re the one who punched me first!”

"But it was just a light punch, not like yours, you nearly took my arm off!” he says dramatically, feigning an exaggerated expression of pain.

“I’m sure you’ll survive” you chuckled rolling your eyes.

"No, no I’m pretty sure i’m dying." he says dramatically again, grabbing his arm in ‘pain’.

“Well can you die quietly then please?” You smile as you go back to eating your lunch.

"Well, thanks for your concern. My final seconds on Earth and you can't even show a little sympathy for your favourite crew member" he said with a fake sad expression.

“I’ll make sure to put on your tombstone that you went out from a light punch to the arm” you deadpanned.

"Make sure it's carved in marble too” he said sarcastically with a dramatic flourish.

“You’ll get a wooden cross at best” you chuckled.

"It better be mahogany at the very least”

“I’m sure I can find some nice looking sticks outside”

"They have to be the perfect length, not too short but not too long either. Oh, and make sure the shape is nice and straight, no twisted branches"

“I’ll do my best…just for you” you smile as you throw a french fry in your mouth trying not to laugh.

"Thank you for doing the bare minimum" he said, faking a dramatic sigh before shoving a handful of fries into his mouth.

“What happened to ‘my final seconds on earth’? Shouldn’t you be dead by now?” you smirked. “I’m pretty sure dead guys don’t steal other people’s food”

He tried hard not to laugh, his lips twitching. “I'm fighting for my life here”

“Shut up” You smile throwing a french fry at him.

He catches the fry in his hand and pops it into his mouth. “So rude, even in my dying moments”

“You’re insufferable” you smile shaking your head.

"But you still like me, right?" he said leaning on the table.

“Someone has to” you shrug.

"Oh, please, you secretly have a huge crush on me” he teased, batting his eyelashes.

“You wish” you grin throwing another french fry at him.

He quickly catches the fry again in his hand and eats it. "Don't even try to deny it. We've been friends forever, there's no way you're not in love with me"

“By that logic that means you’re in love with me too” You smirk before quickly realising what you just said…did you just admit to being in love with him?

It takes him a second but then his eyes widened in realisation. Was that an actual slip-up? Did his crew mate, his crush, actually just admit she felt the same way?

“W-wait…what did you just say?”

You looked away suddenly, your eyes fixating on an empty spot across the room. You could feel yourself starting to flush. Had you really just admitted your feelings to him?

You try to backtrack quickly “N-no y-you- I mean…like as a friend…” but you just end up fumbling your words.

He noticed how your words faltered and caught onto the way your cheeks blushed red. Were you just messing around with him?

“No, no, hold on a second. Back up. What did you just say?”

You looked away, embarrassed. “I-it was j-just a joke. I wasn't being serious, really”

His eyes were on your every move. He saw your blush grow deeper, your eyes darting across the room. In that moment, he knew your words had been genuine, not just a funny joke.

“You're lying”

You stayed silent for a few moments, hesitating to respond. Your heart raced as you realised he had read you like a book.

"It was just... I... I just meant by your logic that would mean you’re in love with me…too” You said the last word so quiet that you’d be surprised if he heard it.

A hint of a smile appeared on his face. He couldn't believe it. Did he actually hear what he thought he had? He knew he wasn't imagining things when you started stumbling over you words. He knew you felt the same way as he did. Now he just needed to confirm the answer.

“Say it again”

“S-say what?” The blush across your cheeks refused to leave your face as you still couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him.

He leaned slightly closer to you, lowering his voice so that it could only reach her ears.

“Say that you're in love with me…”

You looked at him through the corner of her eye, completely shaken up by this whole situation.

“D-do you really want me to say it?”

He took your face in his hands so that your eyes met. You shivered at the touch of his hands, a wave of butterflies washing over you as you felt his eyes gazing into yours. Your heart was racing, pounding rapidly in your chest but what you didn’t know was his heart was also beating just as fast.

“Just say it…please”

Your words were breathless, barely even a whisper. “I-I’m... in love with you”

A smile spread across his face as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. He could barely believe this moment was actually happening, that the person he had loved for so long also shared those feelings with him. He wanted to kiss you, to hold you forever. But he knew he needed to hold back, he didn't want to rush anything…not yet anyway.

“Well look at that, here I was thinking I was the only one...”

#one piece penguin #penguin x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #penguin #heart pirates #penguin one piece #anime

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ckret2 · 5 months

Text

On chapter 30 of The Writer Uses Misleading Graphics To Trick You Into Looking At This Fic About Human Bill Being The Shack's Prisoner: Summerween part 2! Bill wheedles Mabel into helping him make a costume. Mabel wheedles Bill into spilling some of his preciously-guarded secret backstory. Ford is kind of in awe.

Also there's like 4.5 drawings in this chapter. They're all very silly drawings.

####

Bill wouldn't tell Mabel what his costume was—"I want to see who can guess it"—but all it needed was a brown bedsheet, a long red wig, cardboard (to be drawn upon), and flip-flop sandals.

The bedsheet was the easiest to acquire. Dipper's barely-worn brown sandals were just slightly too big for Bill but Mabel helped tie them on with yarn. the shack's cardboard supplies were still depleted from making Bill's triangle mask, but they could make do with paper and popsicle sticks. Mabel didn't have a red wig but she did have a blonde wig and red markers. Since Bill was, by his own reporting, terrible at drawing, Mabel offered to do the fancy artwork if Bill did the tedious task of recoloring the wig. He claimed he'd feel like a mortician putting makeup on a car wreck victim, but nevertheless accepted the deal, and they settled in around the living room table to get to work.

"So just a bunch of houses, right?" Mabel asked, starting on the first drawing.

"Ancient Greek-looking houses," Bill said. "So, marble and columns. Don't think too hard about the details—this is a 21st century American costume holiday, not a historical reenactment. You can slap columns on anything and call it 'Greek' and every human in town will buy it."

"Do ancient Greek houses have chimneys?"

"No," Bill said. "But adding one would be funny."

Mabel considered that, weighed up the value of historical accuracy against entertainment value, and decided giving one house a chimney would be funny. She gave the whole house a thick black outline in marker, and pulled out crayons in black, white, and whale blue to quickly add some light shading to the marble.

Mabel didn't think she'd ever seen Bill focus so hard or so quietly on anything the way he did on coloring that old wig red. He was giving it more attention than he did his own hair: while his golden locks were a tangled, uncombed, soggy mass shoved dismissively over his shoulders, he was dying the cheap wig (and his fingertips) strand by plastic strand with the bright-eyed morbid fascination of a third grader studying a pack of ants as they disassembled a bird's corpse.

This was the longest she'd been around Bill without conversation—usually, you couldn't even walk into a room without him immediately chattering at you like the motion-activated animatronics at the Summerween store. It was hard to think around him. Bill didn't give you room to think.

What did Mabel think about Bill?

He was right, she was still mad about the mall. No—mad wasn't the right word—mad was his word—she was scared. She'd never really stopped being scared of him, if she was honest with herself. But everything he'd done that day, from tricking her into trapping herself to reminding her of almost dying, had just reinforced why she should fear him.

But. She thought he felt bad about it. And she didn't think she'd ever seen him feel bad about anything before.

Maybe that meant her experiment was working. Maybe he was changing. Yeah, he was still scary—but he was Bill Cipher, he had a lot of scariness to work through. He was moving in the right direction, and she wanted to encourage that.

He hadn't apologized for the mall; but, since he'd tried to make up for it at the time, and that was a sort of apologetic action, Mabel decided she could tentatively forgive him for that day—provided he continued to improve. Put him on forgiveness probation. And that meant they were on friendly speaking terms again.

Which was good, because the quiet was starting to get uncomfortable. She surveyed her art for something they could talk about.

After a couple of as-historically-accurate-as-she-could-imagine houses, Mabel had started varying up the designs by redesigning houses she could remember off the top of her head with columns and white marble. She'd made a stately marble Mystery Shack, and a columned-covered doppelgänger of the house with the terraced yard across the street at home, and then she'd decided to make a Greek-ish version of her own home. "Hey Bill. Have you ever seen my house?"

"In person? No. But it came up from time to time in you kids' dreams, so whether I've seen it depends on how accurate you think your dreams are," he said. "It has less plants and more windows in your brother's dreams than in yours."

Mildly disturbing answer, but not disturbing in the direction she'd expected. "What! You mean you haven't haunted our neighborhood or anything? I don't believe it."

"Do you think I spend all my time stalking random humans? Don't flatter yourself."

"Well, seeing it in dreams isn't good enough!" Mabel pulled over a blank paper. It was hours until trick-or-treaters showed up, they had a little time to waste. "I'll draw it!"

"Wow, really?" Bill looked up from his wig. "You're not worried about letting the big bad triangle see your house?"

"Come on! You already know where I live, right?"

Bill immediately rattled off, "1337 Fairview Drive, Piedmont, California, on the northeast side of the street where it's less hilly."

"Exactly—you creep. So who cares if you know what it looks like, too?"

A square, sky blue house with two stories and a triangular roof; a big living room window on the left, a covered door on the right, three windows on the second floor, and a chimney. Mabel had drawn her home plenty of times—but doing it for a friend (?) was different from doing it for a teacher or a librarian, and she put extra effort into the rose bushes under the living room window. She added her and Dipper's smiling faces in the upstairs windows and Waddles's face downstairs in the living room.

"Waddles sleeps in the kitchen, but he basically owns half the yard to wallow in. This is my room, and here's Dipper's—I get three windows, but Dipper has the biggest window and a bigger room, so it's fair, no matter what he says—"

"Oh, you two have separate rooms now?" Bill was leaning halfway around the table and craning his neck to see the image right side up.

"Uh, yeah? Since we were ten?"

Loftily, Bill said, "I don't know how you'd expect me to know that. You both still dream about sharing a room."

Mabel paused and tried to remember how often she dreamed about Dipper in his new room. Sometimes she woke and was still disoriented to find her bed in the middle of the room instead of against one wall with Dipper's on the other side. "Huh."

She added a few more details—the front steps, the gate, the shingles. (Bill watched nervously as she pulled out the gray crayon to color the driveway—but she didn't notice how it had been tampered with.) She talked about her home, and in turn Bill told her weird things, like that Dipper often dreamed of monsters coming out of the fridge. When she finished, she autographed her name with a star on the "i" in Pines, offered it over grandly, and said, "Here, you can keep this!"

Bill accepted it without the customary effusive gratitude with which one ought to accept a generously-gifted original artwork from a 13-year-old prodigy. "What am I gonna do with it?"

"That's your problem!"

"Fair enough!" He checked his leggings for pockets and, when he didn't find any, set the page on the table by his elbow.

Offering accepted. As Bill resumed coloring his wig, Mabel picked up another piece of paper and got to work on the next columned house. "What does your house look like?"

Bill stopped dead, looked straight at her, and said, "My what?"

What was weird about the question? "Your house! Or whatever you lived in before you came here. You came from somewhere before you tried to invade Earth, right? You didn't just pop out of somebody's dream."

Bill laughed. "Yeah I did!"

"Bill."

"4500 years ago the construction workers of Egypt had a shared nightmare about the immense tombs they'd spent the last century building—"

"Biiiill."

"—and when they awoke they found the combined psychic energy of their terror had spawned a sleep paralysis demon more powerful than Ra! So then I ate their souls—"

"Seriously, Bill."

"I'm being so serious right now."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine! I get it. You're embarrassed." She shook her head and returned to coloring.

She felt the combined spiritual energy of hundreds of imaginary Egyptian construction workers beating down on her face from Bill's eye. Like a laser. "'Embarrassed'?"

"Because you don't have a house," Mabel said. "I think it's okay, you don't need to be embarrassed! I don't think you're a loser or anything. It's just kind of sad—"

Bill snatched up a blank piece of paper. "You want a house? Fine! I'll show you a house." He grabbed up an orange crayon, muttering, "It'll put your stupid overpriced shed in California to shame— Where's the ruler—?" Mabel tried not to grin.

For several minutes, he was perfectly silent. Mabel glanced over to see him coloring with three crayons at once, only for him to shove a hand in her face and snap, "No peeking."

Mabel got through two more drawings before Bill slapped down his paper over Mabel's. "There! How about that?!"

She looked at the drawing, which Bill had helpfully labeled "Party Central!" in red crayon. A great stone pyramid so dark brown it was nearly black, with bricks outlined in brilliant gold and molten orange and fiery red, and a sharp multicolored X hovering above it—

Mabel gave Bill a flat look. "This isn't your house, this is your Torture Temple."

"The what? Hey, is that really what people are calling it?! It's not the Torture Temple, it's the Fearamid!"

Despite herself, Mabel burst out laughing. "You named it the 'Fearamid'?!"

"It's a pyramid and humans fear it! It's genius. Portmanteaus make great names."

"What's a portmanteau."

"It's a word made from the unholy Frankensteinian fusion of two other words. Like getting 'electrocute' from 'electricity' and 'execute'!"

"Or 'romcom'?"

"Yeah, or that."

Mabel considered the drawing. "If you want to scare less people, you could call this your Bill-ding."

"HA! Oh, I'm saving that."

"Anyway, this isn't where you live," Mabel said. "You were there for like a week tops!"

"Yeah, before your great-uncle killed me. I'd still be living there if it weren't for you jerks." He stuck out his tongue.

"Come on, Bill. I showed you my house. Draw where you grew up or something!"

"What's wrong with the Fearamid?"

Mabel crossed her arms. "Why don't you want me to see your real house?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

Bill opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped, a thoughtful look on his face. "Eh, you know what? Why not. If you're gonna be so ridiculous about such a silly thing." He pulled over another piece of paper. "But if I don't have enough time to finish coloring this wig, you have to help me."

"Fiiine." She returned to her own drawings as Bill got back to work.

After a long silence—longer than he'd taken to draw and color the Fearamid—he said, "Okay, done. Here." And he pushed over the paper with one dismissive finger.

She eagerly accepted the drawing—and frowned. There was nothing on the page except for a straight flat black line, interrupted by three line segments of bright blue and a cluster of red and green dashes. "What is this?"

"Where I grew up," Bill said, innocently, already back to coloring the wig. Mabel could see his mischievous smirk. "As seen from the front. Just like your drawing of your house. So we're even now."

Mabel's brows furrowed as she stared at the page in confusion. "What...?"

"You do know I'm from the second dimension, right? A universe that's flat like a piece of paper. I figured Sixer would've told you all about it by now." Bill picked up the drawing and held it between his and Mabel's faces, so that, viewed from the edge, all Mabel could see of the paper was a thin flat line. "What do you think the second dimension looks like to somebody in the second dimension?"

Mabel took the paper back, looked at the underwhelming flat line representing the front of Bill's house, and said, "I hate you."

"We had the prettiest roses in the park," Bill said, pointing at the red dashes. "Crayon really doesn't do them justice."

"Shut uppp."

Bill laughed at her; but then, to her surprise, he said, "Okay, all right, I guess a big fancy 3D creature like you can't understand the nuances of two-dimensional sight. So, here." He flipped over the page. "Top down view."

The back of the page had what looked like a floorplan. A narrow room on the left, a large L-shaped room, a tiny room nestled into the L's top right corner, and a medium room on the right. Little shapes filled the rooms—furniture of some kind?—but she didn't see anything immediately recognizable like a top-down bed or table and chairs. Green and red spirals dangled off the bottom of the floorplan.

"I'm no Edward Bishop Bishop, but it gets the idea across," Bill said.

She studied all the strange little figures in fascination, looking for anything familiar. She pointed at a few shallow bowls filled with blue sticking out of the wall between the L-shaped room and the tiny room. "Are these sinks?"

"Hey, you're pretty sharp. Sinks and the tub."

"So the little room's the bathroom."

"Right again." Bill pointed out the rooms on the floor plan. "Master bed's on the right, kitchen and living room in the middle—and you found the bathroom—and second bed's on the left. That was my room! The one with a million books," he pointed at a wall with countless tiny multicolored lines coming off of it. "I was a big reader as a kid. I've always been an intellectual."

"Who was in the other bedroom?"

"I never really went in there, who cares." Bill made a dismissive gesture. "I think there were some desks and stuff in there too, but I didn't bother to draw them since I never used them." He picked up a yellow and a black crayon and added on to the drawing, dexterously turning the crayons in his hand to switch between colors without setting either one down. "I spent most of my time in my room." He'd drawn a little yellow triangle with an eye. He picked up a red crayon to point an arrow at the triangle and label it "Me!" "I didn't even have to leave the room to see the TV. The perks of psychic powers!"

Mabel wondered which of the weird shapes was the TV; but before she could come to a decision, she was distracted by the scale of Bill drawn in his room. Maybe he'd just drawn himself big, but he seemed cramped in that narrow space. And he'd hardly have room to turn around in the bathroom without his corner smacking something. "It looks pretty small. Is that normal on your home world?"

"Ah, I rarely spent time at home—it was just a place to sleep between speaking engagements," Bill said. "I was always on tour. Living the life of the rich and famous! Hotels, jet planes, and tour buses!"

Mabel shot him an irritated look. "You said this is where you grew up."

"This is where I grew up! I got an early start making my fortune. I was already famous by the time I was, uh..." he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Developmentally, I think I would've been about equivalent to your age. Maybe a bit younger."

How much of all this was true? It didn't feel like a lie—and she couldn't see how he'd benefit from lying about any of it, except maybe claiming to be famous. So it probably had to be true. He'd actually made her a drawing of his house. Even after he'd complained about being so bad at art. She beamed at him. "Thanks, Bill. Your weird alien house is neat! I like the squiggly spiral flowers! Are they actually roses?"

"They were the flower that everyone mentions in poetry and that you have to bring home when your wife is mad, so, same basic function as roses," Bill said. "Fun fact, they grow in spirals so that they're pretty on the outside, but—"

####

"—but have more surface area to absorb sunlight on the inside," Mabel said, pointing at the flowers. "Alien biology! And the orange things are couches and the colorful box in front of them is his TV, and Bill says he could watch TV through the wall but he never really liked TV, he preferred live performances—maybe we should take him to a musical! And the little sideways cushions on the walls are their beds because gravity goes to the left because their house faces east—I have no idea why!—so, I guess that's their 'floor'? But if that's the 'floor,' Bill didn't explain why all his books were on the 'ceiling' without them falling off, and..." Mabel trailed off, giving Ford a concerned look. "Grunkle Ford? Are you okay?"

He was gaping at the drawing. "Wh—? Yes. Sorry. I'm just..." He shook his head in amazement. "I never even got that slippery eel to admit he has a calendar system, and you got the blueprints to his childhood home?"

Dipper said, "Yeah, this is amazing. How did you get this out of him?"

"Oh, I didn't do anything special," Mabel said casually. "Just drew our house and then suggested he was too scared to let me see his."

Dipper grimaced. "You showed him our house?"

"Don't worry about it! He already knows where we live."

"Of course," Ford said, taking a quick note in his journal. "Exploiting his ego. He's very proud; undermine that pride and he'll feel compelled to defend his honor." Ford had started goading Bill into giving away more than he meant to the same way. He wished he'd started doing it far earlier; but he'd spent so many years foolishly assuming Bill's pride was objective and justified that he sometimes forgot what an egomaniac Bill really was.

As Mabel had spoken, Ford had filled several pages with bullet-pointed half thoughts: dodges questions about the master bed—his parents' room?; no bed or bedroom for a sibling, he seems like an only child; "speaking engagements" is probably a euphemism, what was he doing to become a child celebrity; were his books his only childhood possessions or just the only thing he valued enough to draw; did he gain his "psychic powers" while amassing the power he needed to "liberate"/destroy his dimension? "Can I borrow this drawing to make a photocopy?"

"Sure! Don't forget the line on the back," Mabel said. "And you can copy the Fearamid, too! Did you know he named it the 'Fearamid'?"

"Oh yeah, I heard him call it that," Dipper said. "I think I recorded it in Journal 3?"

"I should've read that before we threw out all of Grunkle Ford's Bill stuff," Mabel sighed. She slid over the Fearamid drawing to Ford. "Bwop! He drew it tilting all weird to the left? He wasn't kidding when he said he's bad at drawing."

Ford studied the drawing and frowned. He lay his pen on the drawing to use like a makeshift ruler. "It's not 'skewed'—he drew the front face as a perfect equilateral triangle, and then extended a side on the right to turn it into a pyramid. It's poor perspective—there's no point of view from which one side would look like a perfect equilateral triangle and you could see another side, but..." He trailed off again as he made a note to himself about what this might mean about Bill's ability to perceive the third dimension and his artistic sensibilities.

"So he draws like Picasso!" Mabel concluded. "Oh! Bill mentioned a name when he gave me his house, he said he wasn't like Edward Bishop Bishop—and I remembered it because it sounds funny. Bishop-Bishop. Maybe he's another artist Bill likes? Or somebody who makes blueprints?"

"I'm sure I've heard that name. I think he was a mathematician?" Ford frowned. "I can't recall, though." He wrote down another note: Edward Bishop Bishop – mathematician/artist? Something to look up later.

Dipper glanced back and forth between Ford and Mabel as they talked, feeling his stomach sink at how excited they were and how easily they got along. First the mysterious disappearing crystal shop in Portland, now Mabel made this huge discovery about the guy Ford had spent years trying to learn about... Dipper swallowed hard and tried to tell himself he shouldn't feel jealous after he'd gotten Ford to himself for basically the past year. "I can't believe you found out all this."

Mabel immediately looked at him. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

Dipper winced. He'd realized a moment too late how he must have sounded. Quickly, he said, "I mean, it's great that you did! Finding out more information about him is great. But, like... investigating the paranormal is my thing. It's what I spent all last summer doing, and it's my dream job, and... and now, the biggest paranormal mystery in human history is in our house, and you're the one getting all the info out of him?"

"Well, yeah," Mabel said. "I'm our official Bill spy, remember? I'm the one who made friends with him."

"I know, I know." He shrugged jerkily. "I'm just... kind of disappointed that I'm not prying eons-old secrets out of an alien demon. You know?"

Ford had paused in his writing to listen to Dipper thoughtfully. "I understand. When you're exceptional at something, it can be... difficult to share the limelight," he said. "Not because you don't think anyone else deserves it. You just don't know if you'll ever get it back."

Dipper's face heated up—he didn't want Ford to think he was bad at sharing, of all things—but he mumbled, "Yeah, I guess." Ford patted his shoulder understandingly.

"Aww," Mabel said. "Didn't you say that if we're running an experiment on being nice to Bill, you want to be in the control group?" She punched his arm. "Welcome to the control, bro!"

"Ow!" Dipper rubbed his arm and laughed weakly. "Yeah, okay, you're right. This is what I get."

Mabel said, "You should try talking to Bill! Maybe he'll tell you stuff too. He's really easy to talk to as long as you don't mind him sometimes saying creepy nightmare things."

"And as long as you're prepared for his mental tricks," Ford said.

"Yeah! Grunkle Ford's got a whole class for that," Mabel said. "He'll teach you about the BITE model! It's how cults sink their teeth into you!"

Dipper chuckled. "Sure. Maybe I will. We're gonna be at home handing out candy for a few hours, maybe I'll find an opportunity to interrogate him."

"You're not going trick-or-treating?" Ford asked.

"No," Mabel said, with an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

Dipper elbowed her for her theatrics; they'd already agreed on what they'd do tonight. "We've got plans with friends. But we do get to wear matching costumes again."

"Creepy ghost children!"

"Ah," Ford said. "That explains your..." He gestured at them. They were wearing a suit and a dress, old-fashioned and gray, with tattered hems and dusty black dress shoes.

"Barty helped us put the outfits together," Dipper said.

"We still need to do our makeup," Mabel said. "What about you, Grunkle Ford? What are you doing for Summerween?"

"Ah." He glanced toward the ceiling ruefully, as though he could see The Enemy in the shack through the many layers of dirt above. Summerween had been one of the things he'd missed most about Gravity Falls; even during his years as a reclusive scientist in the woods, he'd usually taken off Summerween and Halloween to hand out candy to the children bold enough to visit his house.

But Bill's eagerness to participate had sucked the fun out of the day. The thought of celebrating Summerween in the same house as Bill felt too much like celebrating with him. "Nothing, I suppose. I was planning to stay down here." He gestured at his desk. "Continue my research."

"What are you working on right now?" Dipper asked.

Ford quickly said, "Nothing. Just—the same research," and was immediately hit with a pang of guilt. Remember what happened last summer when you tried to keep secrets about Bill out of embarrassment? Reluctantly, he said, "I've... split some research duties with Fiddleford. While I'm waiting to hear back from him, I'm looking into—some magical knowledge Bill revealed. To determine how much of it's true."

Dipper looked puzzled. "Revealed when?"

Mabel slammed her hands on Ford's desk. "Grunkle Ford, you can take a break from gathering intel on the enemy for one day! It's Summerween! Promise me you'll do something to celebrate before the day's over."

Ford let out a huff, but smiled. He wanted to do something. Surely he could come up with something that would let him avoid Bill? "All right, I promise. I won't invoke the Trickster's wrath tonight. Could you leave your costume makeup in the bathroom when you're finished? I'll find something to do with it."

"Perfect!" Mabel hugged him; then grabbed Dipper's hand. "C'mon, let's finish getting dressed. The trick-or-treaters will be here any minute!"

"Okay, okay." Dipper waved at Ford as Mabel dragged him to the elevator.

When they were gone, Ford turned back to the papers Mabel had given him. Bill's childhood home... Assuming he wasn't lying, at least. But an entire blueprint seemed like a complicated spur-of-the-moment fabrication even for him. If Bill was lying, it was a lie close to the truth.

It was strange to imagine Bill as a child with a bedroom full of books. Strange to imagine Bill as a child at all. What did a young triangle look like? He couldn't imagine anything different from how Bill always looked.

The floorplan did look small. Smaller even than the apartment over the pawn shop had been. Ford tried to remember what the homes he'd seen in Exwhylia had looked like...

He raised his head as something the kids had said registered. "Barty? Who's Barty?"

####

While Mabel was downstairs, Bill inspected her box of crayons.

The wrapper around the gray crayon was coming loose.

He took the glue stick they'd been using to reinforce the paper houses with popsicle sticks and carefully stuck the wrapper back on.

The house was too quiet without anyone around to talk to. He hated the quiet.

From the corner of the living room behind the table, when Bill leaned on the wall, shut his eyes, and listened closely, he could faintly hear the hidden elevator. He headed upstairs to stow the drawing of Mabel's house somewhere safe, and then went to the downstairs bathroom to finish dressing for Summerween.

####

(Y'all I worked hard on those fake crayon drawings. Anyway I know we're all collectively going insane today over the book news but if you took time out of your day to read this, I'd love to hear what y'all think!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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mlmxreader · 3 months

Text

He's Always Hungry | Eddie Brock/Venom x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Eddie Brock

9 "Why is there blood on your hands?"

53 "Of course I came, you called"

66 "You'd let me get away with murder." "I'd help you hide the body and give you an alibi. Very different things" ❞

: ̗̀➛ Venom is unpredictable, brutal, when he has to be. But he's also gentle, sweet, when he wants to be.

: ̗̀➛ blood, gore, eye torture, swearing

↳ @arthurmorgansballsack

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The floorboards creaked loudly beneath heavy footsteps, protesting loudly with each heavy step that thumped upon the thin wood. Muffled and echoing, a phone buzzed in a hidden pocket; another missed call that made his towering frame shake its great head.

The keys clattered upon the kitchen side, white marble left with a long orange smear in the shape of a clawed hand. The air felt still and stale, as if his very presence made atoms freeze in terror. Hulking and towering, it was difficult to squeeze into the doorframe.

All was quiet, not even the noise in the walls dared to scuttle and squeak. Yet the fire crackled and cracked as it stayed bright and alive; a beacon that shone upon thick black legs that dripped with something dark and sticky.

He could not change back just yet, lugging his heavy body around until he reached the dimly lit room; he paused, almost in tender curiosity as he tilted his head to the side.

Dripping onto the fine wooden floor as he breathed easily, steadily, for once that night; the white eyes followed as he trained his focus upon whoever was sitting with their back to him, legs dangled over the side of the chair and a can of something fizzy and repugnant resting on the coffee table, dripping condensation.

He could smell it, even from his position a few steps away, that fizzy can of poison; his upper lip curled, exposing sharp and jagged yellowish teeth. A sneer, almost a snarl. Shaking his head, he took a few careful steps forward, and dropped to his knees in front of the chair with a thud.

You took immediate notice, furrowing your brows as you looked him up and down.

"Venom," you said softly. "Why is there blood on your hands?"

Venom rested his hands on his thighs, and shrugged. His voice was a deep growl, a soft thunder that crawled up your spine with deft tendrils and made you shiver. "We had to eat."

"Right," you said, nodding along. "And what did you eat, exactly?"

He closed his mouth completely, shaking his head slowly; he couldn't tell you. He couldn't tell anyone. Nobody could ever know. It wasn't that he meant to, well, he did, but he didn't think it would have been so risky.

In short images, Venom could remember it clearly. The tall man with brown hair and a bearded jaw, scars littering his face and his dark brown eyes glittering with something Venom didn't quite understand; Eddie said the tall man was a bad name by the name of Russo. Not even Frank Castle liked him.

Venom had pinned Russo against a damp, dark wall in an alley, licking his lips as he stretched his jaws wide; he didn't think his claws sunk in so deep, until he felt the blood squelch and squish on his skin as he devoured that tall man piece by piece.

Digging through the cavity in the chest to get to the heart; sticking his clawed fingers under the eyes and slowly prying them out. Biting down on them and laughing when they popped in his mouth, spraying blood and juices all over his teeth and tongue.

Venom had enjoyed every bite, every mouthful.

But when Eddie explained that Russo was very well connected, and there would undoubtedly be consequences, Venom knew that he couldn't tell you anything; the less you knew, the easier it would be to protect you.

He swallowed thickly, moving to sit with his legs crossed under his hulking body as he played with the carpet, not even bothering to look at you with those milky, pupilless, eyes.

"Venom," you pressed. "What did you do?"

"I'm here for you," Venom said softly.

"Yeah, well, I didn't expect you to come," you admitted, shaking your head.

A quick glance. "Of course I came, you called."

You glanced back, shaking your head. "You're covered in blood."

"You needed help," he pointed out.

You rolled your eyes as you shook your head again. "I'll be fine. What did you do?"

"Quid pro quo," Venom grinned. He had learned that from a film that Eddie had watched with you.

"Calm down, Hannibal the Cannibal," you growled, although there was a hint of a smile upon your lips as you moved to sit directly opposite him with your back against the chair. "I asked first."

"We ate someone," Venom murmured. "Why did you need help?"

You plucked a stray string from the carpet. "It happened again."

Slowly, he nodded. He knew what it meant, and didn't need further clarification as he cleared his throat, tilting his head to the side and dropping his voice so that it was even quieter than it had been.

A distant rumble, like shells being dropped on the trenches in No Man's Land. He stood, hunched over slightly so that he didn't hit his head on the ceiling light; slowly, he crossed over to the speaker, and switched it on. The sound of 'You're All I Need' by Motley Crue filling the room gently before he sat back down again. He grumbled, blinking slowly at you for a moment.

"You'd let me get away with murder."

"I'd help you hide the body and give you an alibi. Very different things." You chuckled, shaking your head.

"The same," Venom mused, slowly lying down with his back on the carpet, staring at you as his long, thick tongue swiped along his front row of teeth. "We love you."

"I know," you whispered, lying down next to him. "I love you both, too."

"Eddie wants to sing along," he hummed.

"I don't mind," you muttered.

"You're all I need, make you only mine, I loved you so I set you free, I had to take your life, you're all I need, you're all I need," Venom started, his voice becoming mixed and mangled with Eddie's. "And I loved you but you didn't love me. Laid out cold, now we're both alone, but killing you helped me keep you home."

"I guess it was bad, 'cause love can be sad, but we finally made the news," you joined in. "Tied up smiling, I thought you were happy, never opened your eyes, I thought you were napping, I got so much to learn bbout love in this world, but we finally made the news."

Your phone buzzed from its place beside your drink, but you couldn't bring yourself to go and check it; it was a news notification from the local papers, reporting that the police had discovered the body of Billy Russo - or what was left of him.

You looked at Venom with a beaming smile, closing your eyes as you pressed your face to the side of his neck, your hand on his gooey chest. You would stay put.

131 notes · View notes

ka0ila · 3 months

Text

|Enemity

genre- angst, smut, mafia au, dark romance, enemies to lovers¿

pairing- mafia!straykids x mafia!reader

type- series

warnings- smut, degradation, death, murder, blood, childhood trauma, virginity, dark, mention of rape, guns.

m.list

tags- @hann1bee

A winter morning,

My parents were shot.

That look on his face, i can't forget.

Those suffering eyes, i can't forget.

Blood, all over.

my face,

my clothes,

the floor.

everywhere.

The tall, muscular expression-less man stepped inside, looked at my brother and i, bent down and grabbed my dad by his hair and made him look towards him,

"i told you,hazlurt, i did. i warned you, i did and now, you're gonna pay it with your own life and your poor little wife." a disgusting smirk displayed on his face. He started walking towards my mom, all of a sudden, two men came in, held me and my brother, grabbed our jaws, and made us look towards our parents. Lyrian was sobbing, badly. The muscular man, grabbed my mom by her hair, "poor little thing, gonna pay for your husband's mistake, yeah?" my mom winced and he slapped her.

"stop! Valzart, don't bring her into this, don't hurt her, i beg of you!" my dad screamed, with a little energy he had left.

"not so fast, you know what i wanted Hazlurt, but you and your fucking loyalty towards your pitty little job is gonna get you, and your family killed." he snapped back.

He took out a knife and placed it on my mom's collarbone, "hey, i'm gonna engrave my name on your skin, infront of your husband, isn't that so exciting?" he said chuckling, dad tried to get up, he just couldn't and then Valzart, the muscular man, placed the knife on my mom's collarbone, "Stop! please" Jeongin shouted crying. Valzart looked towards him, "oh hey, you pity little momma's boy, it's alright, i'm not hurting your momma, it's just something she paying for because of your daddy's actions" he said and a disgusting little smile displayed on his disgusting face.

'C'

'R'

'I'

'S'

'T'

‘O’

‘P’

‘H’

‘E’

‘R’

Bahng Christopher Chahn.

The leader of straykids.

The engraving looked deep, my mom was screaming, even i wanted to look away i couldn't because one of his men was grabbing my jaw and made my look at my mom struggling, when i tried to close my eyes, he slapped me. Jeongin passed out hearing my mom scream, and yelp in pain, it was too much.

I was just a 8 year old kid, too small and understand or to express emotions.

"poor little girl, wanna know what daddy did? your daddy tried to betray us, and him being this poor little spy, tried to leak something very important, that's wrong right? betraying, betraying is wrong right, little one?"

Suddenly, someone hit him from the behind with a wooden stick,

It was my brother, Jeongin,

he mouthed 'run'

i looked around,

everything was so slow,

everything was echoing,

blurry,

hazy,

Jeongin held my hand, and

we ran.

BangChan

I can never in my fucking life forget his filthy name.

A mafia, A well known filthy mafia.

Known to be 'heartless', 'cold', and definitely not merciful.

Killed more than half of the top mafia's including Ogumai Kamasaki.

nearly no one was able to dream surpass The Great Harlenlando Eziquas, but he did.

My biggest enemy since i was eight.

…

"you came, RaIz." (Y/N) Hazlurt said while sipping her imported wine. "you called, Hazlurt" Jorian replied back smirking, Lileth raised her left eyebrow and smirked as no one ever dares to call her by her surname. "daring, aren't ya?" (Y/N) said in a stern tone, leaving goosebumps on Jorian's body, "here for a good reason, my lady."

"very well." (Y/N) said as she kept her wine glass on the back marble table infront of the pool. "what made you call me here, my lady?" Jorian said as he moved his hand to grab his whiskey glass. "nothing special really, just for my own personal pleasure" (Y/N) gave him a stern look, and smirked. As she moved towards him, he moved when step back. Soon, he was pinned down by (Y/N), "what are you planning to do to me?" Jorian said with lustfull eyes.

"Kill you just like you killed my brother's girlfriend"

"you know she deserved it." Jorian said with a scared but stubborn tone, with a wish to live. "oh? well then, you deserve to die" she placed her pistol's pointer inside his mouth and shot him. Jeongin was in the pool, looking at the drama. He was satisfied with what happened, flipped his hair; spread his arms and fell back on his back inside the water.

…

with a bang, i submersed myself in the water, he deserved it, he deserved to die, he deserved to die because he killed and raped his own sister and my girlfriend, the only girl i've ever loved in my entire life. i've had so many girlfriends but all of them were only for my own pleasure, but i fell in love with Miuka.

"Jeongin?" I heard my sister call out my name. For some reason i just didn't want to answer."I.N?" If she ever gave anyone a nickname, it was me, if she ever cared about someone, it was me. So, not many know i'm her brother as it's 'danger' for me. If people get to know about it, i'll be all her enemy's target. So, we're 'cousins' in the eyes of people, 'cousins with enmity' it's for the best i guess.Jorian Ralz, a man who worked under Bang Chan. When i found Miuka's dead body in our room, i saw his initials on her neck. Ever killed body under him, had those initials engraved. Whether it's his men, or him. Even if his men kill someone for their on pleasure or need, they had to engrave his name on the dead body. It's creepy; having your name engraved on someone's dead body you don't even know of, but it did make people terror him."yeah?" i said looking up at her swimming towards the edge. "are you satisfied now?" she said while ruffling my hair with a smile. "mhm, thankyou" i said and gave her a quick smile. She nodded and walked inside. she takes a bath everytime she kills someone. The moment she left, the staff came in, cleaned up that place, picked up the body, and took it somewhere, i don't even know what they do of all these bodies. Now, let's get to the police.The police, government, or anyone doesn't talk about the mafia's especially, (Y/N) Hazlurt and Christopher. Everyone knows about their rivalry, people who tried to interfere are now, well, dead. 'Being an enemies to lovers fan, i'd like them to fall in love and fuck everyday all around the villa.' is what Miuka used to say. I never said anything, Bang Chan ruined my family.

…

"fuck" she moaned as i inserted my second finger inside her. I looked in her dark brown eyes. I was moving my fingers inside her just the way she liked it, by her tightness,

i knew she was a virgin. She was squirming under me and i fucking loved it. I loved how i was controlling the amount of pleasure she was receiving.

She was flushed, her face looked adorable and sexy at the same time. Her black hair strands on her face, her mouth wide open, Moaning my name everytime i hit her spot, her arched back, her shivering body,

i loved it.

"i'm gonna cum" she said with teary eyes and barely audible. I stopped moving my finger, "beg for it" i said with a cold rough tone with my two fingers still inside her,

stretching her out.

She looked flustered, i was definitely her first. "please" she said whining, "please, what? what do you want me to do?" i said looking at her, she failed to maintain an eye contact.

She threw her head back, shut her eyes, and begged, "Please sir, pump your long fingers inside me, hit my spot over and over again, finger me like it's the end of the fucking world, just please let me cum, fuck"

she said and let out a loud moan when i suddenly started moving my fingers in a fastened pace with letting her complete and inserted my third finger. 'sir' definitely caught me off gaurd.

Soon, she came all over my three fingers, i made her look at the mess she made and the condition of my room's bedsheet. I inserted my fingers inside her mouth and made her taste herself.

I started moving my fingers in and out, the sound of the gags, oh how much i loved them. She looked at me those teary eyes, gagging on my fingers. Oh, how much it turned me on. "Do you want me to fuck you?" i asked her looking deep in her eyes, "i'm not ready"

she said stuttering in between the gags, i nodded and took out my fingers and got up. "im so sorry, but i'm just not ready" she started sobbing. why was she apologising for not being ready? i frowned and sat back down taking her into my embrace.

"why did you apologise for not wanting to have sex right now?" i asked her after i made her stop crying, "it just, it just ruins the mood, and it's such a big turn off for you, i fear it's gonna make you not want me.." she said while looking at me sitting in my lap, hugging me.

"i won't get mad at you for not being ready, lair. Keep that in mind, always. Don't push yourself into something you're not ready for." She gave me a heart warming smile and kissed me. “you know, never mind” with that she kissed me again, with lust.

i was taken back a bit, did she think i’d lose interest? did she feel forced? all these thoughts muffled as i started losing control. i flipped her over,

she groaned as i slapped her ass cheek, everything was happening so fast. i was about to grab a condom when she said “i’m on birth control”. I pulled down her soaked panties, and started unbuckling my belt. “such a whore, such a whore for me, say it” she was flustered.

“i’m your whore, only yours.”

“yeah that’s right, you’re my fucking whore, mine”

i aligned myself infront of her entrance, i started rubbing it with the tip of my cock. i heard her whine, oh how much i loved her crying and whining. “are you sure?” i asked her as i huffed. “yes, yes, yes sir, please sir, just enter” she said in adrenaline. i chuckled and started submerging myself inside of her tight little hole, my hole to ruin. i heard her groan in pain,

“it’ll be pleasurable, adjust, it’s okay” i couldn’t be rough on her first, even if i wanted to ruin her and see her cry, i couldn’t. i gave her time to adjust, pumping slowly in and out, she was crying, “you’re huge!” she cried, i chuckled. “speed up” she said, “okay.” i said. I started pulling in and out of her dripping glistening pussy, what a sight.

“mmh- fuck.” she cried as i fastened my pace, i just couldn’t hold back, i couldn’t, her cunt was just so addictive.

“fucking cunt, wants me to go faster and then fucking cries, such a fucking loser” she clenched around me, “oh? you love degradation? such a fucking slut, my slut” i said fastening my pace, i was losing it,

the way she clenched around me, it was fucking me up, it was making me lose my mind, it was just so fucking addictive, i couldn’t hold back, i just couldn’t.

“i’m gonna cum”

“not now”

“please”

“shut the fuck up slut, you cum when you’re told”

“pleas-”

i slapped her ass cheek before she could complete her sentence.

she was a whimpering mess, crying, begging, begging for me to allow her cum, oh how much i loved it.

“cum.”

…

Jeongin, my next assignment. He doesn’t know i’m an assassin, he doesn’t have to.

i’ve been assigned to bring him, dead or alive.

He’s important they say,

he fell in love with me, but did i?

did i fell for his godly beauty? did i fell for his charisma?

i’m unsure.

last time i fell in love was when i was 11.

first and last.

…

“cum” he said. i left out a cry and whine, of both pleasure and pain. i lost my virginity to my assignment, i’m good as dead now.

120 notes · View notes

bettyfrommars · 4 months

Text

the corner of Heartache & Jameson

18+only, cemetery meet cute, talk of grief and death, allusions to depression and alcohol consumption. Eddie is grieving and so is reader.

wc: 706

You hug yourself against the brisk, icy wind, flexing the collar of your coat up to cover your ears as you stand in the cemetery staring with wet eyes at the headstone in front of you.

“Sometimes I hate you for this, you know?” You scowl and shuffle your feet. “For dying on me like you did, for leaving me alone here in this shitty world. It’s not fair.”

Your grandmother’s name is spelled out on the cement slab, and there are fresh poinsettias just below it that will soon suffocate under the freshly fallen snow. The sun is down and darkness crowds in around you, as if stumbling over shafts of light in its eagerness to be by your side. You don’t avoid them like others might; you let them curl into you like stray cats and make a home.

You silently dare the gathering shadows to do with you what they will.

You sniff back a sob and wipe tears from your eyes with angry yanks across your cheeks. “I came to say I love you and I miss you and I wish you were here. I don’t have anyone to spend the holidays with so—-”

Footsteps crunch in the snow and you hear a lighter flick.

You look up to see the small flame from a few yards away, and then, a face.

“Did I scare you?” A man's voice asks, lit cigarette bobbing between his lips.

He sucks in a drag, and you scoff at whoever it is, irritated that he would dare to interrupt your therapeutic, sulking rant to your dead grandmother at her grave.

“Quite presumptuous of you to think you’d have any effect on me,” you bite, wrapping your arms around your ribcage tighter, feeling for the pepper spray in your coat pocket, just in case.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. He lowers the cigarette, and you can only see his silhouette against the falling snow. “I’m just not used to bumping into people out here this time of night.”

“You hang out in the cemetery a lot? How hardcore of you.” Your tone is mocking, you want him to leave. You wish to be alone with your misery and the several travel-size bottles of Jameson.

“These past few months, yeah,” he admits with a shrug. You can see the outline of his hand and the bright cherry glow on his smoke. “Since my uncle passed. He’s right over there.”

He sticks his elbow out to the right, in a general direction. As if he can’t look, as if it’s still too hard.

“He raised me,” he offers, as if to accentuate the point that the man had not been just any uncle. “So, I like to come here and get sad, too, you know?”

You relax your hand on the pepper spray. You relax your jaw too, and for a brief second, you hope that he is the grim reaper coming to take you away from this earthly hell.

He takes a tentative step closer, and in the dim glow of the moonlight, you can finally see the gentle curves of his face. “Names Eddie,” he shoves one hand into the front pocket of his jeans and flicks ash from his smoke with the other. Other than ripped jeans and sneakers, he only has on a threadbare concert tee and a thin leather jacket.

You don’t tell him your name because you’re not sure if you want to know anyone anymore. Being alone is better, being alone is safe.

But you can’t help but notice: “Are you cold?”

He snorts a laugh. “I kinda am, yeah. I didn’t really expect to come out here. It just…happened.”

You understood the compulsion. You’d driven to the cemetery in your pajamas once in a fit of grief.

You felt in your other pocket for the tiny bottles of alcohol and rolled them around in your fingers so that they sounded like crashing marbles. You held one up to him by the glass neck. “You want to come back to my car and get warm? Be sad together?”

“Well, it is the holidays,” he tried not to smile but couldn’t help the grin that crept up one side of his face like the Grinch with an idea. “Sucks to be alone this time of year.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson blurb #grief #loss #heartache

140 notes · View notes

rainbowgod666 · 2 months

Text

A few oddities on the funny floating island of the tumbler

Over 65% of spells are related to henital punishments

@the-gnomish-bastard's tower: scanning and FreeCam didnt show any sort of system to move the island so yeah, his "dont fuck with the tower" makes sense because theres nothing to fuck with. However: the tunnel leading to his horde (the one with anachronistic dragons due to yours truly) is... not the only one. Theres a second tunnel leading into the gnome's Personal Piggy Bank and let me tell you. That shit is long and worrying, there are NO RATS in THAT tunnel.

@official-megumin: HER HOUSE IS CUP SHAPED AND THE ROOF IS HER HAT (squeals like a fucking anime girl)

Most of the island is... empty. Trees trees trees and maybe some critters but everything else is accessible through clearly mapped portals. Deep Reality Analitic Scanning yielded NOTHING either when the island was lifted, currently, or when itsgoing to be destroyed. Which means its either Like That From Before The Wizards, or Faunocide.

The area around my base (which is basically in a crater) is even MORE uninhabited. I tried it all: the rats, the gnome's fungus, ants... it doesnt "stick".

Turns out im immune to fucking chronological manipulation. Maybe i added "chronosapien bullshit" to my splicing and just... did not remember??? Huh.

On that note, this explains why lancer rpg's whole "lich licenses are retroactive" thing doesnt work on me. Cool huh.

Turns out this place is a few thousand miles off the USA east coast. Neat.

Internet and cable work here, but piracy is still based

I heard of "revolutionaries", what i dont get of them is why their boss looks REALLY similar to Sabo from one piece

Found the bowl of the original stew arcanum: someone stole it and used high-dimensionality to hide it... RIGHT where @the-illegal-wizard-council put their access. Good thing i have more dimensions than inches on my di

Theres a shrine to @nyancrimew. For some reason. I dont know but it looks cool. Left some flowers there cause it felt like the right thing to do. Idk

Theres a strange version of american wood bamboo (a thing that exists but isnt called like that) but metallic growing on the southeast side, and analysis shows that those are... caused by my presence. Whoops.

I saw TF2 POOTIS ENGAGE HEAVY in the forest. Not fucking with that

There is a portal (which didnt exist until my arrival so its probably some kinda fracture in spacetime) that apparently shows something like the future. I saw a bunch of wizardblr users crucifed and my literal corpse on a shining marble throne. Whats up with that huh?

The Fungus fears me. Which is dumb cause dude im not gonna use all of you for rice you dumb fuck-

Someone owns a giant rooster simply called "Mr.Cock". Not sure why tho... considering the name arrived to the new owner in a dream

#welcome to the multiverse #wizardblr #wizardposting #wizard island island #<- i swear its like an elementary classroom and im the teacher trying to not die

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saltofmercury · 1 year

Text

Touch

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader

Summary: Soap is a little touch starved

A/N: Should this have been for Ghost? Yes. Do I care? no because I believe in Soap being touch starved too. Also use of nickname "hen" I don't think I used any words that would allude to a f!reader, but lmk :)

"Touch"

Perhaps it was a dream that jolted you from your unconscious state. Tucked underneath three comforters, engulfed by 6 pillows, you laid inside the huge bed fast asleep. The nights turned cold, prompting you to pull the extra blankets at the edge of your bed.

A sudden close of the front door disrupted your concentration.

Heavy footsteps in the distance pounding closer to where you were. Sleep still weighed heavily on your eyes. Not wanting to move in case of touching a cold part of the bed, you stayed still, focused on drifting off back into unconsciousness. “If they rob me, they rob me,” you chanted in your head. Though you knew who had a spare key.

Thump thump thump — the steps got closer. A bag dropped in the distance, calculated footsteps reached the bedroom door.

“Hen?” The deep voice startled you. “Are ya awake hen?” Cold fingertips touched your face, eliciting a whine from you.

“You’re cold!”

“Dinnae fall back asleep, yeah?” His fingertips lingered on your face, softly tracing your lips with his thumb, his ring and pinky tracing your earlobe. A small hum from his mouth.

He knew not to wake you up in the middle of the night, but there was an urgency tonight. Almost 4 months have passed.

Footsteps fade away, fabric shifted in the air and dropped on the ground. Then, the shower runs.

Some water splashes down, but this isn’t like quiet rainfall that can lull you to sleep, it’s crashing and splashing on the marble floor. Then a quick squeal indicating the faucet is off. The shower curtain opens, and the footsteps come closer again, sliding from the bathroom to the room.

If Johnny is anything, he’s fucking loud.

You sit up on the bed, disgruntled. Your phone says 4:18AM

“Did you have to shower?”

“Aye, good you’re still awake” he ignores you, attempting to put his pants on. You can tell he’s still wet just by the way he’s attempting to pull the fabric up on his legs. He’s flustered, fighting the fabric that sticks to him, he should’ve just dried himself off properly.

He’s stepping over to the edge of the bed, crawling towards you, taking the cold side and shuffling in

“S’ cold aye? Ahm pure done in” but he’s not tired. He’s been anticipating his return. He’s been deprived of something. He still doesn't know how to describe it.

You turn to face him, right as he makes himself comfortable, it all falls into place. Placing one arm underneath your head, followed by engulfing your legs with his, he settles his face into your neck, mouth latching onto you. He starts off slow, just grazing his lips on your collarbone, exhaling in relief. “Wasn't sure how much longer I could take this.”

This first started when he enlisted. It went from constant everyday physical touch from his sisters and friends, to suddenly being swamped in a constant battle. He had longed for his opportunity to serve his country. He made it his first mission to be the best. Moving forward in his squad, earning him the nickname “Soap.”

But then when he got back home, everyone else moved forward too. His sisters were married and gone, his parents had taken the vacations they wanted, and his friends had started their own families.

He didn’t realize it then, but a dull pain had surrounded his body.

On the way back to base as Gaz hugged him, he knew then how much he missed the touch of someone else.

He remembers going to the bar to get some cheap touches. Flirting with the waitress, holding onto her hand a little longer as she handed him the drink, just to feel relief. A small tingle that radiated goosebumps on his arm.

Sometimes the waitress wasn’t there, and he couldn’t get away with it with another server.

He moved onto “gentlemen” clubs.

Fascinated by how they twirled, gracefully shook, and pulled their body weight around. The skimpy shiny outfits trotting around. The glitter around them. How their bodies were slenderly built. Their nails are perfectly manicured. Everything about them was perfect.

However, most of the girls here would be on a time limit.

“$20 for a dance” “$25 to touch me” which Soap didn’t mind, he just craved the time a little longer.

Even went to some red light districts when it got bad.

The woman staring at him in her bright pink lingerie. “You want to just hug?” Clarifying his intention for the night.

“Not a hug, I want a cuddle.” He spoke.

The woman stared at him, it wasn’t the first time she had this request. She just wanted clarification that this was what he had wanted. This happened a few more times, where Soap had begun to satiate his starvation... Until she asked one too many questions.

“Don’t you got a bird?”

“No”

“You’re not ugly pet, you could find someone.”

“Don’t have the time.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“Military”

“Explains the gunpowder scent”

That was the last time he went there. He didn’t need to be picked at or prodded.

He figured a hobby while time off between missions could help.

Any sort of hobby; weight training, ax throwing, and puzzles, to get him out of his head and the hold it had on him. No matter how much he did, no matter how much he accomplished, the feeling lingered there.

He talked to Gaz a few times, but Gaz wasn’t comprehending at all.

“It’s a dull feeling, just weighing on yer body.” Soap said, staring at the ground between them, pretending to watch the ants trail by.

“Can’t say I have mate… sounds odd.” Which made him feel even worse.

“Why don’t ya find friends with benefits?”

Soap had tried, and miserably failed. Women getting too caught up in him, checking his phone, demanding they speak to him when he was away. He was too detached, just wanted to come home and feel safe in someone’s arms.

Then by chance, you came.

At a bookstore while he was looking for any sort of book on this topic, you accidentally bumped into him.

“Shit sorry!” You, bending over to pick up the book he dropped.

You put your left hand on him, smiling, then holding his book out in the other.

“Here” you said.

He swears he could feel your entire heartbeat through your left hand, or was it his heartbeat? The small touch you gave him was euphoric.

“I’m Johnny.” He said, reaching his hand out to shake yours. You smiled, shook his hand and introduced yourself. Your hand felt warm, and soft. Kind of like when he goes into a pub after a mission and the heat from the room warms him up. It felt known, it was what he was after.

From then on, he continued to chase that feeling…Kept seeking your touches on every date.

How you wrapped yourself in his arm and squeezed yourself in.

“It’s getting so cold!” You mumbled walking through the park. You, innocently flirting, but he was so soothed by this. He gently closed his eyes and took it in. You wrapped your hand around his and shoved them in his pocket.

“Mens jackets always have more room don’t they?”

“Aye…” he said, his eyes still closed. Still entranced by your touch.

When you guys ate ice cream and you wiped a bit of the chocolate off his mouth. Your thumb gently swiped at the corner, bringing it to yours. Soap blushing at the small gesture.

“Yer something else hen,”

The time he stood there in your kitchen, listening to you babble about your show. He was drinking chocolate milk. You slowly crept up and placed your hands around his waist. Peering up at him with wide eyes, glad someone could stand you talking about fictional ideas. You scratched gently at his sides. He bit back on his tongue to hold in the moan. You already felt the goosebumps that accompanied your finger tips.

“Did you also know that they’re straying away from the book?”

“Hmmmm” biting his bottom lip, while wrapping one arm around you.

Or when you got a migraine suddenly during a night in with him and needed it to be quiet. You laid on the couch, instructing him to turn off the lights and not make any sounds.

“Yer sure you don’t need any medicine?” He questioned, looking at how pale and lifeless you became.

“Just come here please.. quietly.”

You made space for him on the couch, then brought an eye cover over your eyes.

“Please don’t laugh” you nuzzled yourself into his chest, “can you put your arm over my head?“

“Over yer head?” He was so confused but entertained the idea seeing that he’s never met a headache that could take out someone. The weight of his biceps was comforting the pound in your head.

Soap waited a few minutes before you knocked out, then brought you closer.

He inhaled your scent, watched as your eyebrows had furrowed, the tension harboring in your head, then released. Your lips on his chest, hand underneath his shirt holding the small of his back, and legs tucked under you. It felt amazing.

The two of you fell asleep there.

Now he’s here, coming home to you, knowing that he’s going to be touched, maybe even loved.

Your hands rub the back of his head. His mohawk has started to grow out like a pineapple, longer strands almost touching his ear. You trace the back of his neck down to his spine, then up again.

You kiss the spot below his ear, and he hitched his breath.

“I’m sorry” you say, scared that maybe you woke him up. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, hen keep goin’.”

You smile to yourself as you kiss his eyebrows, his cheek, rubbing a little harder into his shoulder and back.

He moans, you tease a little. “You’re so spoiled aren't you? Delicately tracing his spine with each of your fingers.

“You like being spoiled, baby?”

He smiles, nuzzling into your chest. Goosebumps have formed on his back, arms, and neck. “Aye, feels good.” he laughs a little embarrassed. How quickly he caves into your praise.

You rub him to sleep, watching the sun rise through your windows, how his face calms down, eyebrows are settled, lips puckered out. He settles into your skin. Maybe it wasn’t a dream.

#john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x you #soap fanfic #soap mw2

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autisticlancemcclain · 9 months

Text

part one

———

Lance has no idea how powerful he truly is.

Seriously. Completely oblivious. He’s convinced that he’s the only one on the team who’s not powerful — and Keith knows this because those are the words Lance said with his own mouth. He’s so convinced that power is Shiro’s strength, Pidge’s intelligence, Hunk’s wit and compassion, Allura’s regality, and Coran’s wisdom. He’s even completely sure that Keith has power in his speed and initiative.

Somehow, though, the heart of Voltron does not know how he holds everyone in the palm of his hand. He does not see the picture of terror he makes; jaw clenched, brown eyes flashing with determination, back straight and shoulders set, demonic spider at his side, telepathic mice gathered on his head, poisonous, sentient vine wrapped around him — and the spirts of two lions, red and blue, growling in tandem behind him as he swears that no harm will come to the beast by Voltron’s hand.

Lance did not see the fear in the dignitary’s face. He did not notice his team staring at him with wide eyes, leaning far away from him and his own army. He did not see the pure, concentrated power rippling from him in waves.

If Keith’s being totally, completely honest, it’s kind of hot.

But it’s also a pain in the ass. As much as Lance’s greatest strength is in convincing people to listen to him, when he sets stubborn eyes on a task, the Universe herself cannot sway him. Keith has a snowball’s chance in hell of managing either.

“Just try,” Shiro pleads. “Please. Attempt to convince him that, as much as it sucks, killing the damn beast is the easiest way to secure this alliance and move on.”

“Shiro, your braincells are spilling out your ears like loose marbles if you think that I can convince him to even listen to the words I will attempt to say.”

“Holy idiom, there, cowboy,” Pidge teases, and Keith breaks away from the intense stare-down with his brother to stick his tongue out and shoot her the finger.

“That’s a normal idiom. Sorry that you grew up in Michigan where the most interesting insult you ever hear is someone saying please with a little more passive aggression than usual.”

“…Alright. Point to Keith.”

“Mhm. That’s what I thought.”

“Paladins!” Allura snaps, ignoring Hunk’s smartass comment that she is also, actually, a paladin, and as such is included in such snappish remarks and thus has lost a good chunk of ethos. “Focus! Stars, it’s like I have to do everything around here. Keith. Put your big boy pants on.”

Shiro chokes with laughter, desperately trying to pretend it’s really a cough, but it fools no one.

God, those two need to stop hanging out together. Shiro is dragging Allura down to his level. Poor woman.

“Talk to Lance,” she continues. “He only really listens to you.”

Keith looks at her incredulously. “Listens to me — have I missed something? I asked Lance to lead a briefing yesterday and he asked me what deity died and made me king of the jungle. He doesn’t listen to a goddamn word I say.”

Allura raises an eyebrow. “Did he?”

“Did he what?”

“Lead the briefing yesterday?”

Keith deflates. Because, well. “Yeah,” he mutters.

“So you’re just being a pussy, then,” she summarizes – why does Pidge insist on teaching her modern slang and why does she like it so much – and this time Shiro doesn’t even pretend he’s coughing. Hunk and Pidge also lose their shit.

“I resent that,” Keith says haughtily, denying nothing.

“Yeah. Okay. Off you go. Convince him to at least attempt to hear us out.”

Keith sighs, but does as asked, making his way to his and Lance’s rooms. He decides to take a minute and gather his thoughts — see, he’s learning, look at how not-impulsive he’s being — and heads to his room first.

When he gets there, he spends a few meditating beside his bed — he’d rather stick a hot iron through his eye than admit it, but Shiro and Black may be a little, teensy, itty-bitty bit correct about taking time to gather up thoughts and reflect or whatever.

Just as he’s about to get up and knock on Lance’s door, he hears Coran’s heeled boots click down the hallway.

Oh, fuck yes. If Coran talks to Lance, he might actually listen without argument! Lance has no issue following Coran’s instructions!

…On the other hand, Coran’s just as much of a — and Keith says this with all the fondness in his heart, believe him, if he didn’t find it so damn endearing he would not be spending his nights imagining what will happen when he finally grows enough of a pair to ask Lance on a date — tree-hugger as Lance is. He won’t be happy about the beast killing either.

But, hey. Coran’s a wise guy. It’s probably fine.

Just in case, though, he gets up as quietly as he can — he knows Lance’s goddamn bat ears will hear him if his fucking heart beats too loudly — and leans against the door to hear their conversation.

“Lance, dear, I was just coming to find you,” Coran says.

So far, so good. If Coran was already trying to find Lance, it was probably to try and gently convince him that saving the beast might not be the best option, right?

Keith heart sinks a little as a new thought worms into his brain: maybe, Lance isn’t just being stubborn, and he’s actually upset. Maybe Coran is going to make sure Lance is feeling okay, like a good person.

…Yeah. That’s more likely. Keith kind of feels like a jackass.

He startles out of his thoughts as Coran’s voice, notably louder than before, speaks again.

“Well, if you’re really feeling so much better, would you mind helping me recalibrate the fabricator?”

“Absolutely,” Lance says, and he does sound remarkably happier than he did when he stomped out of the bridge.

Huh. Maybe Lance convinced himself…?

As he thinks it, he knows it’s not true. But it might not be best to bring it up now, then. He’s only just gotten into a good mood, it will probably be better to bring it up over dinner, or something, when the good mood has enough time to settle properly.

Keith nods to himself. Yeah. That’s totally not an excuse because he doesn’t want Lance to look at him in complete betrayal again when Keith attempts to convince him that saving the beast is not an option, or anything.

Right.

Totally.

———

part three

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