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sttoru · 2 months

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 '𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒, CHAPTER I: you finish your last lecture of the day and head to get dinner before returning to your dormitories. you stumble upon an injured figure on your way home, laying in a dimly lit alley. despite the fear in your heart, you decide to reach out towards the unknown man in need of help.

wc. 3.7k

tags. assassin!toji x female reader. sfw; fluff-ish, angst. reader's best friend oc appearance (yona). mentions of murder, blood, knives, anxiety. general warnings for all parts of the series: size difference. age gap (reader early 20's, toji early 30's).

ten seconds. you shut down your laptop and close it. nine seconds. you put your laptop in your tote bag. eight seconds. you close your books and do the same. seven seconds. you put your coat on. six seconds. you check your phone for any messages.

five seconds. you’re thinking about what to eat once you arrive home. four seconds. you decide on a pack of noodles. three seconds. you realise that you’ve ran out of them. two seconds. you make up your mind to go to your local supermarket. one second. you stand up from your seat.

“..that’s all, students. have a nice day and i’ll see you at our next lecture.”

a sigh of relief escapes your lips. you’re finally freed from the shackles of your statistics class. not like you’ve paid much attention to what your professor had been yapping about anyway. it was too boring. the daydreaming you did about your potential future boyfriend and all the cheesy romantic stuff you’d do together was all the more important.

“earth to my best friend,” your friend’s voice snaps you back into reality. you look to your side and find yourself apologising for not hearing her the first time. yona chuckles and waves her hand dismissively.

“i asked if you had any plans after the lecture,” she continues whilst scrolling through her phone. you take a peek at her screen and notice that she’s already looking up available restaurants in the area.

you’re grateful that she’s looking out for you in her own way, but you’ve already made up your mind. a pack of your favorite ramen noodles will fill you for tonight. you’re low on cash this month anyway. a fancy restaurant would have you surviving on water for the rest of the week.

“ah, i actually do. gotta go grocery shopping ‘n stuff,” you pout apologetically before buttoning up your coat. yona nods in understanding, knowing the struggles of being a college student.

“aww, all right. we’ll go next time then,” she replies with a smile.

you walk out of the building with your friend by your side, chatting about how boring the lecture was. of course, you also learn all about the recent gossip around campus. yona is practically your plug for that.

“did you hear about that one girl that allowed her boyfriend to stay with her in her dorm room for a whole month and then got snitched on by her roommate?” yona snickers, not caring if anyone around you could hear the gossip.

you raise an eyebrow in surprise. your university has strict rules about guests staying over in the dormitories. they can spend a day or two, but you’d have to sign them in. plus the resident assistants usually check the rooms for any unusual activity every other week.

to hear someone had gotten away for a whole month is quite a surprise.

“he could’ve stayed for longer if it wasn’t for the roommate snitching,” yona continues and rolls her eyes. she takes a quick snack from her bag and bites into it.

you shake your head and shrug, making sure you don’t trip and fall down the stairs whilst you’re talking, “guess the roommate got enough of the random man in their room. i mean—they pay for that room as well. not like the girl is the only one living there.”

yona nods and turns a right. you follow, your eyes scanning the busy hallways. some students are rushing between the crowd to catch their train and others are making their way to their next two hour lecture. those poor souls.

“mhm. i wouldn’t wanna live with a man i don’t know either,” yona eventually adds after swallowing the last bite of her snack, “let alone for a whole month.”

she throws the wrapper in a nearby garbage can—which is overly full already. talk about a ‘hygienic’ school.

“right,” you shiver as the thought gets put into your head. a random man living with you. . . sounds like a nightmare. you’ve heard enough stories about how dirty they can be. in both the physical and mental aspects.

after some walking - and getting annoyed by random people who block your way due to how slow they’re moving - you reach the exit of the building. yona stretches her arms and grabs her phone before turning to you.

“anyway, see you later, hun!” she enthusiastically gives you a hug. you return the affectionate gesture with a gentle smile, rubbing her back. you exchange your last words before both going your own ways.

music plays in your ears as you walk down the street. the wind blows against your face. it’s a cold day. you wouldn’t be surprised if it were to rain in a bit.

‘gotta be fast’, you think. you are not carrying an umbrella with you, so you’d have to hurry back with your groceries. your legs pick up their pace and pass all traffic as fast as they can.

it takes you quite a while to get to your destination. that’s the drawback of living in such a packed city like tokyo. there is no way to move, especially in the evening, when everyone is returning home.

you reach a crosswalk and wait for the light to turn blue. whilst you’re waiting next to a bunch of people, your eyes wander across the scenery. from the huge billboards to your right to the multiple cars to your left.

your gaze stops at one specific billboard. it’s playing some of the latest news. a recent incident had taken place just a few kilometres north from your university. three people had been found cruelly murdered in their apartments.

the definite cause of their deaths is still unknown. there wasn’t any sign of a forced entry, even when reports say that all three victims had been killed in the same way.

they speculate that the person involved must have been quite skilled—someone who’s done this multiple times before. there are absolutely zero traces of them left neither. the only reason they’re able to conclude that it is indeed a homicide, are the similar wounds left on the victims’ bodies.

another comment from the investigation team shows that there might be a survivor who’s escaped the cold blooded killer. that person is now considered missing.

the police are still thoroughly investigating the matter; that’s all you get to know before the news reporter moves on to the next subject.

you look down at your shoes. such scary stuff does make you afraid. you’re living on your own after all. you’d be less scared if you had a roommate, but you currently don’t.

some call you lucky for that since it’s a rare occurrence, yet you still wish you had someone living with you. that would make walking back home at night less stressful.

the increase of footsteps around you makes you realise that the light turned blue—a sign for you to cross the street. you eventually reach the other side. you tilt your head back, anxiously staring at the sky.

‘please don’t, please don’t, please don’t,’ you chant in your head. like the weather is going to listen to your desperate pleas. you rush inside of the supermarket.

you’ve been here often enough to know which products are in what aisle. you scurry over to the ramen, grabbing two packs. you get a few snacks along the way. unhealthy crap, that’s what you’re surviving on.

you stand in line at the cashier. you tap your shoe and bite your lip, your gaze fixated on the sky outside. you beg god to give you just a few more minutes. a few more minutes of drought.

you check your phone and go through your recent notifications to kill time. you swipe left on almost all of them—none being time sensitive or urgent anyway.

you greet the cashier politely once it’s your turn and allow him to scan your products for you. you await for him to announce your total before handing him your debit card. your eyes flicker over to the television hanging right behind the cashier’s head.

that gruesome news again. twice in a row. you shiver and try not to think about it. your mind is already overthinking the entire thing; what if you’re next?

well, that should be the least of your worries. you grab the plastic bag and walk to the exit of the supermarket, taking a deep breath. what you actually should be worried about is getting home dry.

“just my luck,” you mutter under your breath. your prayers are left unanswered as the first few drops of rain fall on your head. you kiss your teeth in annoyance.

you can’t help but silently agree as a couple walks past you, complaining about the sudden change of weather. you watch as a few more people rush past you with their bags above their head.

looking at the bright side of things, you won’t be the only one who’s running home with a bag as a shield against the rain and wind.

you take a deep breath again and mentally prepare yourself for the quick journey you’re going to make. you look to the left and then the right. when the coast is clear, you dash into the direction of your dormitory.

the rain is not letting up. you rush past a few people, those carrying umbrellas walking the slowest of them all. ‘damn them’, you think, ‘they have it the easiest right now.’

you turn a corner and nearly bump into a woman. you politely apologise before continuing your little run home. damp droplets run down your forehead. the rain is already starting to block your vision.

you tightly hug your tote bag to your chest with one arm. the last thing you want is for your laptop to get water damage. you’ve wasted tons of money on that thing to help you get through college.

you look down at the plastic bag with your food. that’ll survive. at least you think it will.

you squint. the rain is only getting worse and thus your blurry vision will as well. you try blinking the water away, but end up making it worse for yourself.

great.

your shoes are going through it. the deep puddles you’ve run through leave the material moist and you can already feel the droplets seep into your socks.

greaaat.

you turn a left. this narrow street is one you hate to be near when it’s dark. it’s a fast shortcut, but also a scary one since it’s isolated from the bustling main streets.

you think back to the cruel news you’ve heard earlier. scary images flash through your mind. your heart races a thousand miles per hour. you once again make up a doom scenario that could possibly happen.

what if the killer on the run is going after you next?

it doesn’t make sense, logically, but everything is possible now that your anxiety has overtaken your rational thoughts. you have no connections to those victims and yet you think you’re next.

you are next.

you whimper out of fear. it feels like the walls of this narrow street are closing up on you the faster you run. you look over your shoulder, excepting someone to be there—following you.

no one is there. you turn your head again and run as fast as you can. if only you had someone with you. someone who’d console you and tell you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

that’s the worst thing about the entire situation: nobody seems to pass by this backstreet. the only things that could possibly give you any sense of comfort are the random boxes and trash laying around.

time seems to slow down once you see the end of the backstreet. there’d actually be people once you make it through. you gulp and give yourself the motivation to get over there without scaring yourself any further.

the shadows looming over you due to the lack of lightning in this alleyway creep you out. the entire atmosphere is eerie—like something or someone can jump out of those shadows and grab you by the ankles. drag you into the darkness and finish you off there.

you want to return to those vibrant lights you know so bad. you do.

your eyes are so intensely focused on the end of the streets to the point that you forget your surroundings. it’s already too late to realise that you’re tripping over something. you process that you’ve lost your balance when you’re already mid-fall.

your body lands on the wet ground with a loud thud. luckily enough, your hands touched the concrete first, softening the fall for your head. you grunt and groan; it still hurt.

your ears pick up on the sound of running water. your head lays right next to a broken pipe that’s leaking water onto the pavement. cold droplets fall in a rushed rhythm.

“ah, fuck.”

your eyes widen. the sound of a man behind you sends a shiver down your spine. is that why you tripped? did he make you trip?

‘i’m so done,’ you conclude quietly. it’s probably the killer you’ve heard about—the one who’s coming for you next. just like you had thought.

you shut your eyes tightly, awaiting the strike that would finish you. like the wounds that had finished the other victims. though, it never comes. the stabbing doesn’t happen.

the only thing you can pick up on is heavy breathing. low grunts, barely audible. the sound of cloth ripping. a man mumbling under his breath.

you sit up on your knees and look over your shoulder. slowly, little by little.

the revealed sight is like a dream. or a nightmare. you don’t know which it is. perhaps a mixture of both.

all you know is that this is the last thing you expected to see. the last thing you expected to experience today. you feel your heart drop and you freeze in place.

you’ve seen your own fair share of blood, but this is simply too much. it’s like time has stopped for you. like time has stopped inside of this backstreet.

the world outside of this alleyway continues moving. the people keep walking, chatting and living their lives. the rain keeps falling. as if nothing is occurring at the moment.

as if there is no bloodied man on the dirty ground, leaning against the wall, with crimson stained hands clutching his abdomen. his wet bangs cover his eyes which makes his identity even more mysterious.

you probably tripped over his leg that’s stretched out in front of him; also bloody. you feel bad for not noticing him earlier. your own selfish desires to get out of this alley caused you to overlook a person in need of urgent aid.

you don’t think twice before reaching out towards him. it’s like your body moves on its own command—not waiting for your brain to figure out what to do.

“oh my god,” you’re shaking badly, but your body crawls closer to the injured figure. you don’t think twice. something you have always taught yourself to do before diving into unfamiliar situations.

not right now, however. you don’t hesitate to check up on the stranger. if you didn’t see his chest moving with each shaky breath, you’d have concluded that he’s dead.

“s-sir?” you panic. what do you do? you’ve never landed in such a predicament before. you look to your left and then to your right. no one to help you nor the bloodied man.

he doesn’t reply to your voice. that further worsens your anxiety. your eyes wander down towards the man’s abdomen. the wound was deep and painful, that much you can tell from the way he’s holding tightly onto it.

a bullet wound? you’re not sure.

right—the piece of cloth he’s keeping against the wound. that’s what you do to try and stop the bleeding. the warm red liquid stains the man’s baggy pants. his black shirt is nearly ripped to shreds, the material hanging on by a thread. literally.

“uhm, uh,” you look around and spot your bag on the floor. in a puddle. you pray that your laptop has made it. you don’t recall having anything with you that could help treat wounds.

you gulp and hastily take off your scarf. you carefully kneel in front of the half-conscious man. his head is held low. you don’t know if he can even hear you.

you reach your hand out towards him, aiming for his own bloody hands that hold onto his abdomen. you cringe due to the sight, but try your best to be of assistance.

the man hisses the moment you touch the his hand. your fingers stop mid-air, not wanting to touch him if he didn’t want to.

what am i thinking?

now is not the time for that. he’s bleeding out and you have this urge to get him to safety as soon as possible. even if you’re internally panicking because of the huge responsibility that fate has suddenly assigned you.

“i’ll call an ambulance. please hold on,” you try to be reassuring, however your choked up voice betrays your true feelings. you change the old cloth with your scarf, pressing it tightly against his injury.

you fish out your phone from your pocket using your other hand. the rain makes it hard to do anything. your screen is wet, your vision blurry. you type in the first number of the emergency services.

suddenly, a bigger hand swats yours, causing your phone to go flying to the other side of the street. you watch with wide eyes as your cellphone comes to a stop right next to a big puddle of rain.

you whip your head to the direction of the injured figure in front of you. the man tries to lifts his head, slowly, so he could look you in the eye. your heart stammers in your chest.

“sir, you’re bleeding out, you need to—“

“i don’t need anythin’.”

you don’t dare to move nor let out a single breath. you can feel the tip of a sharp blade rest under your chin—nearly penetrating the flesh. one wrong move and you will lose your life.

the man had moved too fast for you to even process. you don’t know how you even ended like this. with a bloody knife to your throat and an unknown man’s face right up against yours.

“leave,” the stranger demands. you know he’s not to be messed with, even in his weakened state, “i don’t need y’r help.”

his voice sounds rough. deep and raspy. it shakes you to your core—makes you listen to what he has to say. it’s hypnotising. a gust of wind blows over the both of you.

his bangs move and your gaze finally meets his. the background noises fade for a split second. your entire focus is on those beautiful emerald orbs staring into your own eyes. they’re gorgeous.

they're gorgeous; even if they lack that sparkle of life. his eyes tell stories—the rough journeys this man probably had to endure throughout the years. you’ve never seen such a sight. it tugs at your heartstring and urges you to help him.

you don’t know where these feelings came from, but amidst your anxiety, there’s an underlying desire to take care of him.

you shake your head, showing your unexpected defiance. you’re playing with fire. you know that all too well and yet you don’t care.

“no. i won’t leave,” your breath hitches. you notice the dangerous glint in the man’s eyes. he looks like he’s going to lose consciousness any second now. though his grip on the knife tells another story, “i won’t leave you alone. not like this.”

the injured stranger grunts in annoyance, but also in pain. your persistence makes him want to shove you to the side. to leave this place already and find a way out on his own. he doesn’t want your help.

he may actually need it, but he does not want to accept it.

despite those thoughts, he’s too weak. way too weak. he doesn’t like being weak. feeling weak is not his thing. vulnerability doesn’t suit him.

“you have a fuckin’ death wish,” the man scoffs. he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto consciousness, but that is the last thing he cares about. he wants you gone. out of sight.

you stay in place. even through his chilling death threats. you can feel the blade start to invade the first layer of your skin. it hurts already. normally, you would’ve run. you want to. your mind tells you to get the hell out, but your heart and body yells at you to stay.

“i’ll give ya three seconds,” the stranger continues. he’s close. so close that you can feel his hot breath against your freezing cheeks. it’s intimidating, however not enough to scare you away.

the tighter your grip on the scarf against his abdomen, the tighter his grip on the handle of the knife. time will tell who’ll win this battle.

“three.”

the countdown starts. you swallow your own spit. the rain has you completely drenched. you catch a glimpse of the puddle underneath you both. the colour of it a light red as the man’s blood flows and mixes with the clear water.

“two.”

his voice is quieter than before. he’s losing his strength, but is stubborn enough to firmly keep the knife below your chin. you’re sure that your own blood is already trickling down the shiny metal.

the man’s lips part to announce the last number. your last chance. your final opportunity to escape and act like you have never seen him. you can go back to your normal life—continue living in your own world. the one you are familiar with.

one without this unknown man. this man with an aura of a cold hearted killer.

you fingers curl tightly against the scarf pressed against his wound. you refuse to let up. even if it means your own death. your eyes close—cold damp droplets roll down your cheeks. you don’t know if they’re your tears or if it’s just the pouring rain.

you hear a low, frustrated groan. he sounds so close yet so far from you. you can feel the man’s arm move to adjust his grip. probably to try and flawlessly puncture your jaw.

if only you accepted to eat out with your friend. if only you turned around and went back to your dorm the moment you knew it was going to rain. if only you didn’t take this shortcut today.

if only your fates hadn’t clashed.

“one.”

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk x y/n #toji x you #please give it lots of love 🙇🏽‍♀️

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spicyspiders · 11 months

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before you know it, it's done

Ghost x male reader smut. AU where Ghost is a demon and the reader summons him because the spell said he would get three wishes. Warnings for smut and unprotected sex. I wanted to have this posted on my birthday on Saturday, but I was too busy.

It was surprisingly easy to find the spellbook you needed. The hardest part was picking out the chalk color you required. It didn’t say on the page so you wondered what color to pick. Would the demon want a neutral white color, or would it appreciate something more colorful?

“I’ve never seen that color before,” the demon says when it first appears. The color of his magic matched the color of the chalk you chose to use, a vibrant red color that stood out against the hardwood flooring of your bedroom.

“It was one of the cheapest I could find,” you said in awe, looking up at the demon that stood before you. It stood tall on long legs that led up to a broad chest. On both sides of its chest were two muscular arms that led up to two broad shoulders. On its head was a mask that covered the entirety of its face, and on top was the face of a human skull.

“It’s not real,” the demon said.

You rose slowly onto your feet from where you had kneeled to cast the spell, “party city?”

“Excuse me?” The demon asked back.

You shook your head, “nothing. So,” you said after a moment of staring at him, “do I get-”

“Your wishes?” The demon asked cutting you off, “you humans are so predictable,” the demon waved a hand dismissively in your direction. To your surprise, he stepped over the circle of chalk, past the runes you spent nearly an hour perfecting.

“How did-” you started to ask, but the demon cut you off again.

“Not bad for a beginner, but there are gaps in the binding circle,” the demon responded. It stepped past you and went for your bed and sat down. “I’ll give you your wishes, but there are rules.”

“Rules?”

“First: no wishing for more wishes,” the demon said angrily, “I fucking hate it when you try to do that. Second: I’m not raising the dead, nor am I killing anyone. Third-”

This time, you were the one to cut him off, “I just need my car fixed.”

This made the demon pause before busting out laughing, “your car, that’s it?” It asked after wiping a tear from its eye.

“Yes? I mean, if I only get one wish, I’ll just wish for more money to fix my car and for the future if it breaks down again.”

“I’ll give you three.”

“Three?” You asked in disbelief, “is that the normal number you give people?”

“No, but you made a good first impression,” the demon looked over at the circle, “I like the color, it has me feeling,” he looked off, searching for the word, “generous.”

“Will my wishes be a trick? Like I’ll ask for something and end up getting something completely unrelated?”

The demon rolled its eyes, “that’s just a dumb stereotype you humans made up. If I wanted to trick you, I already would have. Plus, I can’t stand hearing you all bitch. You just need to be specific.”

You nodded, “how will I know if I’m being specific enough?”

“You’ll just have to find out,” the demon smirked. It pushed off your bed and stepped up into your personal space, “I could help make sure, you just have to let me in,” it said, face hovering close to yours.

“How?” You whispered.

“Just think of what you want,” the demon raised a hand and placed it on your temple. “There we go,” it said softly. Through the mask, its eyes flashed a bright color, nearly as bright as the chalk on your floor.

The demon’s fingers were hot on your face, making it hard to keep your thoughts focused on what you wanted. A thud in the direction of your dresser pulled your attention away, and the demon chuckled lightly as you jumped at the noise.

“But,” you stepped up to the pile of cash neatly stacked up, “I needed my car fixed,” you turned to face the demon.

“It is fixed.”

“I used two wishes?” You asked in a disappointed voice.

The demon waved a hand through the air, “two for one special.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “why?”

The demon ignored your question, instead, a slow smile stretched across its mouth, pulling at the fabric on top. It made you feel uneasy, “you had a hard time controlling your thoughts just now.”

“Sorry I’m having a hard time keeping my thoughts straight,” you grumbled, “this is all pretty new to me.”

The demon raised its hands out in surrender, “I’m not complaining. I was a man like you once, you know. I had my urges,” he finished in a low voice.

You ignored the hot wave that ran through your body at the last word, “how long have you been in this… profession?”

He let out a laugh, “a long time now.”

“What’s your name?”

He rolled his eyes, “going to try and look me up on one of those apps you humans use?”

“No,” you answered too quickly to be convincing.

He let out another chuckle and sat back down on your bed, “my name is Simon, though I do like the name Ghost.” He pulled your wallet out from seemingly nowhere, “and yours is,” he filled open the leather to fish out your license.

“Hey! How’d you get that?”

“It was right there,” Simon said, tossing your wallet back onto your bedside table.

“Do I have to use my other wishes now?”

“No. All you have to do is call on me.”

“You have a cell phone?” You asked in disbelief.

Simon let out another laugh. You liked his laugh and how smoky it sounded, “like with your first wish, you just have to think about me and I’ll show up,” he stood up and gave a dramatic bow and with that, he was gone in a bright glimmer of magic.

The next time you called on Simon was an accident. He didn’t pop in with a flash of magic like how he had left, so it was dark in your room. The darkness was the perfect opportunity to catch you off guard.

Your eyes had long adjusted to the dark of your room, so it was easy to pick up Simon’s. Simon’s eyes were reflective in the darkness, like an animal.

You gave an upstroke to your hard cock, your eyes opening slowly as warm pleasure spread through your body. You jumped when you noticed his presence and quickly moved to cover yourself up.

“You don’t have to stop on my account,” Simon purred. “Did you call me here because you need lube? Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.”

“No,” you whispered. Your heart hammered in your chest, ringing loudly in your ears.

“No?” Simon parroted, “you were just thinking about me?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you wished that the covers you pulled over your body would swallow you whole. Maybe that would be your next wish. You tried ignoring the way that your still-hard cock twitched when Simon stepped up to your bed.

“I’m not angry,” Simon got on top of your body, his legs spreading to accommodate the space that your legs took up. He grabbed one of your trembling hands that rested on your chest and brought it down to his groin, “does that feel like I’m angry?”

The bulge under your fingers felt warm and heavy through the fabric of the pants Simon wore. “Oh,” you breathed and ran your hands across the fabric.

“What were you thinking about?” Simon asked, he leaned down to bring his face close to yours, close enough to feel the puffs of his breath, but far enough to where your lips weren’t pressed together.

You tried to lean up and close the distance, but Ghost pulled away, but he did lean down so he could press his lips to your cheek and then leaned over so he could whisper in your ear, “won’t you tell me? Please?”

“You. And what you look like under these clothes,” you managed to get out. Your fingers tightened by a small measure, feeling how his bulge continued to grow under them.

“Good boy,” Simon responded. The second his words were out, you suddenly felt cold. Your clothes were gone and it only took a few seconds for your nipples to harden to match the state of your cock.

“Where did my clothes go?” And my blanket-” Simon stops your questions by swooping down and finally bringing your lips together.

“That is really what you are worried about now?” Simon asked after he pulled away.

“That comforter was expensive,” you responded with a pout.

Simon leaned back down to kiss you until your pout was nothing but a memory. He nipped at your bottom lip, taking the flesh with him when he pulled back.

Your eyes opened when he freed your lip from his teeth and like you, Simon was now naked. Clothes, balaclava, and all.

“I’ll give you whatever you desire after I fuck you,” Simon said, his words full of promise. The area of your room where you had drawn the runes to summon him glowed, its light spreading throughout your room and allowing you to see Simon in all his naked glory.

Your attention was soon taken away when his hand made its way between your legs, his fingers going past your hard cock to go lower. You did, however, watch as his pec flexed as his hand moved. It finally ended up at your hole, his fingers already wet.

“You already had lube?”

Simon smirked and ran a slick finger around your hole, “not exactly,” he answered. When you tried to open your mouth to question him, he pressed his lips to yours. He swallowed the noises you made when his tongue pressed inside your mouth, and like his slick tongue, his slick finger was making its way inside.

He wouldn’t let you focus on trying to question him, his movements were deliberate in getting you ready. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders after running your hands up his big chest. Your hands squeeze at the hot skin as you try your best to quickly get used to the burn of his second finger making its way in.

Simon’s fingers get wetter inside your body as he watches your face closely. It’s a new sensation, one that makes your cock twitch and let out a glob of precome.

“You’re getting so wet for me,” Simon observes in a low voice. “Down here,” he holds himself up on his knees so he can use his other hand to skim his fingers over the head of your cock, “and down here.” He emphasizes his point by coating the inside of your hole with his fingers. A third joins the second, and they make fast work in pressing against your prostate.

You’re hit with spikes of pleasure as his fingers press over the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please,” you moan, not even sure what you’re asking for. You must send flashes of your thoughts of what you want to Simon because his fingers pull out and are replaced by the thick head of his cock. The head of it is wet, and you guess he used whatever he did on his fingers. You both groan as he teases you by rubbing the head against your entrance, smearing the wetness around.

“I know, darling,” Simon whispers. He presses soft kisses to the heated, sweaty skin of your face as he slowly thrusts his cock inside.

You wrap your legs around his waist, making it all the easier for his cock to find its way inside. You both let out a breath for he finally bottoms out, his balls pressing against your ass.

Simon holds himself up on his strong arms when he pulls out after you’ve adjusted. He pulls out just as slow as he had initially gone in only to go right back in when the head presses against your hole.

Like his fingers, his cock makes quick work of finding the bundle of nerves Simon’s fingers were just against. His cock is like a hot brand, carving out space every time he thrusts in. The feeling of it burns. One that burned with pain when it initially began, but soon was overtaken by pleasure.

His cock makes you feel like you’re burning from the inside out. A feeling that begins in your groin as his cock finds your prostate over and over only to spread through the rest of your body. The heat makes your body sweat, making it difficult to keep your legs wrapped around his waist.

“I’ve got you,” Simon murmurs before wrapping both hands around your waist. You let your legs relax, but still, keep them around his hips. The angle Simon holds your hips up at makes his cock go deeper, making you feel full.

Simon brings his chest to yours so he can get his face close enough to kiss you. It’s wet and messy with a mash of lips, teeth, and tongue. Simon doesn’t go far when it’s over as he presses his face into the side of your neck. You hold his head in place by burying a hand in his hair as he begins to nip and kiss your neck.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, accompanied by the prickle of pain caused by his teeth on your neck. You let out moans that bounce off the walls of your bedroom, filling up the space. Filling up the space is also the glow of the runes, burning bright as Simon chases after his orgasm.

You watch with half-lidded eyes as Simon comes with a long groan. The runes blaze as he comes deep inside you. The color casts a halo around Simon’s body, nearly silhouetting him. He looks like an angel, a thought that nearly pulls a hysterical laugh from your chest.

The colors grow dimmer when Simon quiets down as he comes down from his orgasm. Your legs fall from his hips and as they come down, so does Simon. He wraps his arms around you and encases your body in his sweaty weight.

Exhaustion hits you soon after and your eyes grow heavy. Your thoughts go to Simon right before you fall asleep, wondering if he’ll still be on top of you when you wake up. You fall asleep to the feeling of his arms tightening around your body and a pair of lips pressing a kiss to your neck.

#x male reader #x male reader smut #ghost x male reader #simon riley x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #ghost x male reader smut #simon riley x male reader smut

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em1e · 1 year

Text

⠀ ⠀わかさ // BABY SITTER'S CLUB ⠀ ༝ ༝ wakasa imaushi [ft. cousin!sano's/black dragons] ⠀ ༝ ༝ 4.2k words ⠀ ༝ ༝ some drinking ! ⠀ — shinichiro asks if you can babysit your younger cousin's for the night, and you get to have a late night convo with his pretty friend after.

you think you might’ve been doomed from the start.

shinichiro didn’t specify what you’d need to babysit your younger cousins for, just that he was desperate because his grandpa was out of town and none of his friends could be trusted to actually watch them. you could almost hear him falling to his knees to beg over the phone.

you like to think you’re a nice person. generous and caring, and you haven’t seen mikey or emma in a while anyways, so there was no real harm in saying yes. taking every penny from his wallet was a plus, too.

you get to their house right when he tells you, almost tackled by emma who is saying something about having a sleepover in the living room with a pillowfort in the mix the second you’ve finished slipping off your shoes, and you catch a glance of mikey pouting to his older brother while emma drags you further into the house.

“(y/n)’s gonna take good care of you guys, don’t sweat it.” shinichiro pats mikey’s head with a hum, then turns to you, “left some money on the counter for pizza or something if you want, but there’s food in the fridge too if you wanna cook. ‘m gonna be in my room for a bit before i have to leave, but i’ll prob’ly be home way after you guys are asleep.”

you offer a nod, setting your overnight bag in a corner of the living room, “s’okay, i’ll probably need a ride home tomorrow though, if that’s alright.”

“not a problem - thanks for coming, i really appreciate it-”

he’s interrupted by the front door swinging open, a man with a long scar going over one of his eyes coming in like he owns the place, with two kids running past his legs to greet your younger cousins. he drops their bags by yours, stretching and popping his back as if carrying them was the worst thing in the world before his eyes find your own wide ones, unlit cigarette between his teeth while he takes you in.

“you’re the babysitter, right? sanzu, senju, come introduce yourselves. ‘m takeomi.” he offers his hand, and he must be confused by your bewildered stare, because he takes his hand back and looks to your older cousin, “they okay shin?”

you whirl around to glare at him, completely appalled by his apologetic stare. “surprise?”

“you did not tell me i’d be watching four kids!”

shinichiro is quick for damage control, gesturing towards takeomi, “he’s gonna pay what i am, promise!”

takeomi looks surprised at this news, opening his mouth to argue, but deciding against it from the look shinichiro gives. he fishes out his wallet, counting out some money and offering it to you. you eye it, then him, then shinichiro. your cousin clears his throat, jutting his thumbs upwards as a sign for more. takeomi sputters, pulling out all the cash he has and placing it in your open hand.

“i am not a daycare.” your eyes narrow between them, pointed look enough to have shinichiro humming nervously. you shove the cash in your wallet, finally acknowledging the two new additions to your entourage.

“i’m senju! this is my brother sanzu.” the girl says, hands on her brother's shoulders as she pushes him forward.

“i’m (y/n).” you smile, and sanzu looks away from you before escaping his sister’s hold and scurrying back to mikey.

shinichiro and takeomi whisper between themselves while you and emma start gathering blankets from around the house, before shinichiro calls out, “okay, we’ll be out here for a bit! you’ll probably hear us leaving soon!”

“see ya.” you call back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you help senju put blankets on to chairs and set pillows over them to keep them in place. the door shuts, and you’re left alone with no one over the age of 10.

⠀ ⠀ ༝⠀ ⠀ ༝

shinichiro honestly expected you to come barrelling into his room far sooner than you did.

takeomi sat to his right on the couch, benkei to his left, and wakasa sat on the table in front of them. your soft knock was barely audible, but it made shinichiro pause in his talk about black dragon, turning to face it when you open it slowly and peek into the room.

“what’s up?” he asks, standing when you make your way further in.

“i just wanted to make sure sanzu and senju weren’t allergic to anything.” you look past him, to takeomi, who takes a long drag of his cigarette before shaking his head.

“not that i know of.”

“emma and mikey?” you’re looking at him now, head tilted slightly.

“nothin’.” he confirms, “you gonna make somethin’?”

“mhm.” you scan the room, eyes glossing over each of his friends, before they settle on one person for a second, then you’re turning on your heel to go back to the kids, “i’ll put some leftovers in the fridge if you want.”

he snickers, despite having no idea what could’ve had you leaving so quickly, “sounds good, thank you!”

the click of the door fills the air as you leave, and silence washes over the group before wakasa sighs.

“okay, i’ll bite. who was that.”

shinichiro turns slowly, acknowledging his friend for a second, and takeomi answers before he has a chance to open his mouth, “(y/n). babysitter of the night and thief of all the cash in my wallet.”

“they stole from you?” benkei laughs, the idea almost comedic.

“not directly,” takeomi’s eyes narrow to shinichiro, “but they are definitely making a pretty penny tonight.”

“and dealing with your monsters of siblings,” wakasa sighs out a puff of smoke, “it’s easy money well-earned.”

“think i could pay enough for ‘em to babysit me-”

takeomi gets hit in the back of the head by a shoe, jolting forward while shinichiro gathers the matching pair to slide onto his foot. “that’s enough of that, you guys ready to go or you wanna fantasize ‘bout my cousin all night?”

“cousin?” takeomi scoffs, throwing the shoe back to him. he slides it on then goes for his bike keys, “thought the attractive gene skipped over your generation.”

“more like skipped over you. we leavin’ or what?”

⠀ ⠀ ༝⠀ ⠀ ༝

you heard their bikes take off about two hours ago, finished feeding the kids right after that, and got everyone changed into their pjs in record time. babysitters around the world wish they had your skillset. it takes a bit to get them to quiet down into the fort you’ve created, but with the promise of tv and a snack before bed, they’re hooked.

it’s a surprise when the guys stumble in through the front door with the smell of alcohol following them, benkei supporting most of shinichiro’s weight with a nasty bruise on his cheek. wakasa follows behind the two of them, remnants of a bloody nose still flaked lightly under his nostril, and . . . you look between the three, making sure your headcount is accurate.

“aren’t you guys missing one?”

the men look between each other, then out the door as if he was waiting outside, then back to each other.

“oh.”

“oh?” you parrot, “the hell happened to you guys?”

“oniichan’s face is messed up.” one by one, the kids pop out from the blankets to see their siblings and friends alike. emma pouts, tugging on your arm, “he promised no more fighting (y/n), can you believe it.”

mikey almost laughs at his brother, “like he ever could, you know how he likes to pick fights.”

“where’s ‘omi?” senju rubs her eyes as a yawn slips past her lips, and sanzu nudges her shoulder.

“maybe he got arrested.”

she stiffens at the thought, suddenly very awake and pulling on your other arm, “he isn’t really is he? he’s just sayin’ that?”

your eyes narrow at the three men for riling up the kids right when you were getting them ready to sleep.

“out.” you point towards the garage door, gently pulling your arms from emma and senju and shoving wakasa by the shoulders when no one moves.

“what’d i do?” he whines out, eyes not leaving you as you grab benkei by the wrist and drag him in the same direction.

“‘s my house.” shinichiro grumbles, being pulled along by his friend.

you open the door for them and push them one by one into shinichiro’s room, ignoring the complaints from each of them while benkei gives an apologetic smile. he closes the door for you, and you’re left consoling senju while trying to get everyone back into the fort as if it will help get them to sleep faster.

and it almost works, shrek playing on the tv with sanzu’s head resting on your shoulder.

the door swings open, and each of you startle at the sudden sound, takeomi’s voice loud while he complains about being left by his dearest friends. you climb out of the fort to glare at him, and senju lets out a small omi! before you’re grabbing him by the ear and dragging him to the garage door. you push it open and all but shove him into the room, completely ignoring the whines he gives about his poor tortured ear.

“stay.” you threaten, glaring at each of them like they’re dogs who just won’t listen, and not one of them can find it in themselves to argue from the way you’re looking at them.

“‘s my house.” shinichiro grumbles again, once the door is shut and his safety is secured as you retreat.

an hour passes and takeomi sips idly on a lukewarm beer shinichiro keeps in his room, pout still very evident, while wakasa lights a cigarette. benkei breaks any leftover silence with a grumbling stomach.

“‘m kinda hungry. we never stopped at the store like we said we would.” he scratches his cheek, looking to his friends in hopes of a solution.

“(y/n) did say they made somethin’ for dinner, didn’t they?” takeomi sits up slightly from his slouched position, thinking dreamily about what you could’ve made.

“you wanna risk goin’ into the house?” wakasa takes a drag from his cigarette.

“it’s my house.” shinichiro stands, repeating that phrase for the third time in one hour. it’s almost like he’s trying to convince himself it’s okay.

it’s decided then shinichiro would go in, grab something quick, and be back in his room before you notice he’s even there. hoping time would be on his side, since it is very late, maybe you’ll be sound asleep and he won’t really need to be as sneaky as he’s planning. the plan falls apart very quickly at the seams, realizing the door that connects his room inside the house is locked from the otherside. he silently curses you, trying to turn the lock one more time in case his first attempt just wasn’t right, then sighs.

“gotta go through the front door.”

his friends watch with amused grins, wondering if maybe you’ve completely cut all contact with them until the morning, as shinichiro goes out the side door that leads to the front porch. he thanks whatever god is out there that the door is unlocked, opening so, so slowly to ensure it doesn’t make a creak, and slides into the room as quietly as possible.

quiet, until he knocks into the umbrella holder right beside the door. it falls with a clatter, and he can see you sit up slightly from your spot on the couch, hissing out a ‘shh’ while sanzu in your lap makes a noise of complaint in his sleep. he places it back as it was with a wince.

“the hell are you doin’?” you whisper scream, barely able to turn your body in fear of waking up the boy you’ve had to constantly pat to keep asleep.

“we just-”

“no. no ‘we’. if you wake up these kids, i swear-”

“okay! okay, okay, okay, you win.” he grumbles something under his breath that has your eyes narrowing at him in the dark, and he inhales sharply before going back to his friends.

attempt one : failed.

shinichiro arrives back to the gang empty handed and dejected at losing so easily.

and his friends have the audacity to laugh at him.

“an umbrella holder? shouldn’t you know that house like the back of your hand?” wakasa almost snorts, holding his stomach at the fact that something so small did him in.

“i do!” he assures, “one of the kids must’ve moved it closer to the door or something.” he explains in vain, “and i don’t see any of you guys stepping up to try.”

takeomi claps a hand on benkei’s shoulder, shaking him slightly after, “benkei’s my vote, he’s the one that brought up food in the first place.”

“i didn’t know we’d have to become ninjas to eat.” he argues, “besides, i’m the biggest here, what makes you think i’ll do any better?”

he makes a good case, but the idea of you whisper-yelling at someone twice your size almost makes shinichiro laugh. “i agree with takeomi, i think you should try.”

“i can’t believe you guys are plotting against me.” he looks to wakasa, who just shrugs and offers no help. so, with a sigh, he stands, taking the beer takeomi had been nursing, and chugs what’s left while ignoring the complaints that follow.

he goes out the same way shinichiro did, opens the door as quietly as he can, and . . . bumps into the same. fucking. umbrella holder. with the warning in mind. you whip around to glare, curses on your tongue as you take in benkei, who looks so sorry, it has the words dying on your lips. the two of you stare at each other for all of five seconds, before he’s wordlessly picking the holder back up, placing it where it was, and closing the door behind him.

attempt two : failed.

benkei returns to the group just as empty handed as his captain, just as dejected.

“couldn’t even get through the door.” he sighs, waving off the laughter that follows.

“they say anything to you?” wakasa snickers, offering benkei another beer. he takes it gratefully, chugging it easily and shaking his head.

“i kicked the umbrella holder,” louder laughter surrounds him, “didn’t even say anything. we just stared at each other and i left.”

“we’re never gonna eat at this rate.” shinichiro groans, “why is this so hard?”

“they aren’t even that scary,” takeomi hums, ear incident long forgotten, while putting out the remainder of his cigarette before standing, “i’ll show you guys how it’s done.”

takeomi is so self-assured, so confident that it doesn’t matter if he fucks up. he’s a smooth-talker, through and through. surely, if you get upset, he can just talk it out. that’s what these idiots don’t understand.

with that in mind, he takes the same route as the others. he decides, maybe their flaw is in opening the door so slowly. that must be why they keep kicking the umbrella holder. they let it sneak up on them, too worried about the wrong thing to even notice it. he pushes the door open with no regard to how loud he is, taking a step past the frame and cursing when he kicks the one thing he was meant to avoid.

it clatters across the floor, and he hears a groan from sanzu, both from the sound and from you shifting to face him.

“d-didn’t mean to-” he stutters out, and your glare hardens when he makes no attempt to keep his voice down.

“so help me god, if you do not go back to the garage right now you are going to wish you never met me.”

he audibly gulps, bowing his head while apologies fall off his lips. you throw a pillow in his direction, and he takes that as a sign to bounce, not bothering to pick up the umbrella holder like the past two attemptees.

attempt three : failed.

takeomi comes back, head still high with nothing in his hands, and the laughter that erupts is infectious.

“they threatened me! me!!” he explains desperately, “and it worked!”

shinichiro really thinks they should’ve just gone to a twenty-four hour store at this point, but each attempt seems to be funnier than the last. he turns to wakasa, who sips on a beer from the couch. he catches his eye, and shakes his head.

“nuh uh, no way am i going in there after all of that.”

“you’re the only one that hasn’t!” shinichiro argues, “and technically, you’re the one least likely to get caught! being the smallest and all . . . “ his voice trails off, and the comment has wakasa’s eyes narrowing to slits.

“i’m not even that hungry, it’s you guys who are so desperate.”

“it’s only fair you try, too.” benkei grumbles, still not over the look you gave him when he first walked in.

four of the toughest delinquents in tokyo, arguing about fairness. out of fear for their leader's younger cousin, no less. it’s laughable. wakasa grumbles profanities under his breath, almost certain this will end with you leaving shinichiro’s house with an attempted murder charge.

“fine, but if i come outta there alive, you guys owe me.”

“not if you come back empty handed.” takeomi opens another beer, plopping his ass back down on the couch, “careful, they have sanzu in their lap. that kid’ll be the reason they snap.”

wakasa takes the warning with a grain of salt, sure that the four of them bothering you is the real reason for your aggravation. with a sigh, he’s left walking to the front door and opening it quietly. you’re already glaring holes where he stands and he hasn’t even had a chance to do anything wrong.

“what could you guys possibly want so badly?” you ask through clenched teeth, and wakasa’s hands come up defensively, closing the door behind him and very aware of the umbrella holder takeomi left in the middle of the floor.

“we’re just hungry.” he assures, stepping past the couch towards the kitchen, “be in and out before you can notice.”

he stumbles slightly in his drunken state, and it has you heaving a sigh and slowly peeling yourself from under sanzu. you carefully place a blanket over him, and follow wakasa to the kitchen, finger pressed to your lips to make sure he knows to keep quiet.

wakasa is already shuffling through the fridge, hoping to find something quick and easy so he isn’t in your hair for any longer than he needs to be, but you’re pulling him back gently by his upper arm and grabbing something in a tupperware container.

“i made rice with some vegetables and beef i found in the freezer,” you say softly, and wakasa wonders for a second if you’re always soft spoken or if it’s because you’re trying your best to be quiet.

you pop the lid off and move to reheat what you made, leaning against the counter as the microwave counts down.

“what’d you guys do for you to earn that?” you nod towards him, and despite not directly saying what, wakasa knows you’re talking about his previously bloodied nose.

absentmindedly, he taps at his nostril, honestly having forgotten to even clean what blood was there. “fight.” he says dumbly, and the simplicity of it has you giggling. he thinks he really likes that sound.

he watches intently when you grab a paper towel, dampening it with the sink water, then so very gently cup his cheek to tap at the blood to clean it. if he had any shame, he knows his face would be flushed right now. instead, he grins, eyes half-lidded while he absorbs your focused expression.

“you’re awfully sweet on me, huh?” the comment has your own cheeks dusting pink, but your reply comes by you squeezing his cheek tighter.

“quit movin’, makin’ this harder than it needs to be.”

by the time you’re finished, the microwave is seconds away from going off, and you drop both the paper towel and his face in favor of making sure the timer doesn’t have a chance to sound, stopping it right at :01. wakasa finds himself missing your touch, but the thought is lost when the smell of food hits. maybe he was hungrier than he thought.

he grabs a plate for himself, piling a portion onto it and groaning when it hits his tongue.

“you made this?” he finds himself asking, despite you literally explaining the fact that you did not even five minutes ago. you hum out a reply, already in the process of getting other plates and utensils for his friends.

“‘s very good.” he grins when he’s finished, “thanks for takin’ care of me.” he eyes you lazily, grin growing bigger when he sees that the pink dusting your cheeks spreads.

“don’t mention it,” you mumble, pushing the plates and now warm food to him, “should probably take these to them before they starve.”

“let ‘em.” he says with such confidence, it has a giggle passing your lips. he wants to hear that more. he pulls himself onto the counter with such ease, it makes you wonder how drunk he really is.

“so who’d you guys fight?” you lean against the counter beside him, tapping at his knee as if his undivided attention wasn’t already fully on you.

“some idiots,” he waves dismissively, “heard from people at the bar we're inna gang and started shit talking shinichiro.”

you grin, “he take the first swing?”

he mirrors your smile, and fuck does he look pretty when he does, “damn right. got socked right after,” he taps his cheek, “everyone was fightin’ after that. benkei had to drag us out ‘fore the cops came.”

“who hit you?” you muse, head tilting slightly.

“some random that followed us outta the bar.” his grin only widens at the memory, “shoulda seen the other guy.”

“i can only imagine.” you push yourself from the counter when a head of pink hair peeks around the corner, eyes widening slightly when they meet yours before he scurries back to the living room.

wakasa’s eyes follow your movements when you leave him alone in the kitchen, in favor of going back to sanzu who can’t seem to stay asleep without your comforting touch. in his inebriated state, he finds himself following behind you. in the time it took him to make that decision, you’ve already gotten comfortable on the couch with sanzu’s head in your lap. you rub his back idly, and he catches the faintest whisper of you asking if he had another bad dream, sees the way sanzu’s head barely moves with a nod.

it’s really domestic, seeing how well you’re taking care of a kid you didn’t even know about hours before, and wakasa finds himself almost jealous of the 9 year old. what a cockblock, coming in when he was reeling you into the conversation.

instead of voicing these concerns, he finds himself clambering on the other end of the couch, feet tucked neatly under him and looking at you.

“hi,” you whisper with a small laugh, “don’t you have a delivery to make?”

he waves off the suggestion with a hum, “they shoulda came on their own - kept tellin’ horror stories ‘bout you being mean, but i think they’re just scaredy cats.”

“that so?” you muse, and sanzu shifts closer to you when wakasa leans over him to get a better look at your smile.

“mhm,” half-lidded eyes scan over you, and he can honestly forget about the boy between the two of you easily with the way you’re looking back at him, “think maybe they can’t handle you like i can.”

you offer another giggle, putting a finger against his forehead when he invades too much of sanzu’s space, “i think you should tell me this sober.”

“i’d tell you it everyday if i could.” he whispers so seriously, it has your face flushing.

“try again tomorrow.” you tap his forehead twice for emphasis, then pass a blanket his way since it’s very apparent he won’t be going back to his friends.

his friends, who are mourning the loss of him the longer he takes to come back.

shinichiro, after his dear friend wakasa hadn’t shown up in the five minutes they’d timed him for, delved into horror stories from when you were younger. how you’d been suspended from school due to your temper, picking more fights than him when someone said the wrong thing. how he’d spend some weekend nights helping you tend to bruised knuckles after you’d defended him.

and it ends with each man giving a soft prayer for their friend, who, after an hour, still hadn’t come back yet.

unbeknownst to them, wakasa had fallen asleep listening to you tell stories about your cousin. how you’d protected him in grade school because kids were assholes, but you were a bigger asshole who didn’t take that shit. and on the couch, the three of you fell asleep peacefully, while the men in garage hoped you gave wakasa a quick and painless death.

#salmon rowe #wakasa imaushi x reader #imaushi wakasa x reader #imaushi x reader #wakasa x reader #wakasa imaushi #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #x reader

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zorosleftmantit101 · 3 months

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Bro wtf im alive!!

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ONE PIECE MEN

As shit from the groupchat

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C/W: swearing, NSFW, mentions of suicide, general shit post stuff.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Nami, Robin, Franky, Brook, Chopper, Usopp, Ace, Sabo, buggy, Shanks, Crocodile, Doflomingo

NOTE: Schools back and its been super fucking busy + plus im hyperfixated on bulders gate and game of thrones rn

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Luffy: My balls dropped insted

Zoro: Peburty

Zoro: How tf do u spell iy

Zoro: Pubesraty

Zoro: Pubes

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Sanji: Valentines more like. Suicide

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Buggy: Ur so wacky

Shanks: *wanking

Shanks: 109 mph dick slaming in and out of this dirty half full starbucks cup i stole from a homeless crack addict (im imagining its ur tight boy pussy asshole)

Buggy: Shanks.

Buggy: Stop.

Shanks: Erm no!

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Franky: Teachers should NOT say nice things to me (i have a praise kink and daddy issues)

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Nami: Bro i gotta shit so bad

Usopp: THEN SHIT BRO

Nami: Im in the car

Usopp: Oh

Usopp: THEN SHIT AT SCHOOL

Nami: I am NOT shitting at school

Usopp: PUSSY

Nami: this was all a trick girls dont shit

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Brook: Im so excited to drink today im actually shaking #slotmachines

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Luffy: Happy Monday!

Chopper: It is NOT Monday my guy

Luffy: ... the shotgun is in my mouth

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Franky: Bc l've got another day off

Franky: Should I come visit

Robin: YES

Franky: Hmmm

Franky: If I get bored I'll ride up

Robin: Then ill ride u up

Franky: What time u guys got recess and lunch

Robin: Get u preggo

Franky: SHIT

Franky: ILL BE THERE

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Kid: just punch the customer

Law: nah I need that shit to traumatise them, I need the customer to be rude to me and I start levitating in the air while chanting and blood pouring out my eyes

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Kid: When parents let their kids order and its like "what's that fetus, your learning to speak!! Yeah well spell trombone, didn't think so faggot"

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Ace: U stick ur dick in ur bum and get urself pregnant

Ace: 2024 lets make it happen

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Sabo: "Emo!" So close! I'm actually wearing the skin of your mother

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Doflamingo: OK BUDDY DEGRADE ME MORE IM THIS CLOSE TO EXPLODING IN MY PANTS

Crocodile: MOTHERFUCKER WHAT

Crocodile: YOU DIRTY CUNT

Crocodile: WAIT

Crocodile: NO

Crocodile: YOU PERFECT HUMAN BEING

Doflamingo: NGHH (reverse psychologyed your ass)

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Sanji: Ouchieeeeeeeeeeee my back hurtsss urghhhhh i wish their was a big sexy latina to sit on my face, only to make the pain go away of course

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Nami: Guys i close the store in half an hour and im boooooredde i already finished cleaning wveryhringggg

Robin: Okok pro tip

Robin: Do u have pens?

Robin: Hand sanitizer

Robin: And paper towel

Nami: Im gonna just finger myself

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Franky: That was my son 3 years ago before the incident...

Brook: Was the incident me whipping the nae nae! YOLO cash money dab on them fortniters

Franky: No

Franky: Big Foot stepped on my unborn baby

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Law: If i die i wanna be reborn as an electric chair

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Killer: Cheaters are dick beaters - Shakespeare probably

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Sanji: You are quite literally the most cutest girl I've ever seen

Luffy: Bro my dick actully smells so fuckimg bad, it never smells bad do i have aids

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cosmicstarlatte · 1 year

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Devil-Mart ⭐ (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

You got hired at mega retailer, Devil-Mart⭐. Naturally, the guys "suddenly" need a job too and start working alongside you.

»Characters: Demon Bros + Bonus Dia and Barb

»Tags: Humor, Bulleted Style fic, Gender Neutral Reader/MC

»Notes: How about shopping with them?-> [Devil-Mart: Shopping]

Lucifer:

"...Mammon put us in debt this month."

Was worried you'd be bullied (or eaten) surrounded by demons/other monsters

Is that coworker who acts like a boss

Actually does make it to management within the first week

The customer isn't always right. He's the manager to call for rude customers

Actually likes stocking, finds neat aisles soothing

The home improvement dept is his favorite

Frequently makes sure you take all your breaks

Doubles as store security if needed

Mammon:

"I just needed extra cash alright?"

Was worried you'd fall for some other demon

Failed in all departments except online orders (he's very fast!)

Bags for orders would occasionally go missing

Took extra long breaks but Lucifer caught on and wrote him up

Would try to frequently visit you in your department

Started fights with other workers who were busier staring at you than their work

"They're not meat, beat it!"

Got fired for trying to steal electronics

Levi:

"Theres a lot of new merch releases coming up soon!"

Didn't want to be the only one left out so he applied...plus you won't see him anymore!

Electronics department ONLY

You won't find him cross trained anywhere else, he refuses

Is actually really good with upselling

Can be aggressive if you don't go with his recommendations

Has received a few complaints for that reason

Tries to match his breaks with you since that's the only time he really gets to see you

Was the one who tattled on Mammon

Satan:

"This is for research."

A lie he almost believes but knows he just wants to be near you

Works the same department as you so you see each other all day

Never put him on registers or customer service

Almost got into a fight on the first day

Retail is rough for him but he does it for you

Complains to Demon Resources about Lucifer daily

Asmo:

"Ugh...a job!? I'm gonna cry. Oh but my fans would love if I relate to them! And your job will be fun with me there!"

Upfront about his reason lol

Refused to do anything except customer service

Just stands back and talks to customers while the coworker alongside him completes any transactions

Makes DevilToks on the clock

Frequently leaves his spot to talk to you and Satan

Gets all the work gossip

Lucifer never catches on

"You know, this isn't so bad! I'm such a good worker right!?"

Gets employee of the month

Beel:

"I don't like the thought of you surrounded by demons alone. This isn't RAD."

Aalajffkslsjda the cutest honest protector

Is cross trained everywhere but

Never put him near grocery ever again

Likes to work with you if he gets the chance

Usually works in the backroom unloading and back stocking things

Has a doctors note that let's him take frequent breaks for eating

His favorite department overall is security because Lucifer gives him extra treats if he prevents high valued thefts

Belphie:

"I'm here because I have things I would like to have."

Is there an extra meaning to that?

Works in the back with Beel usually

Takes frequent naps in hidden areas of the backroom

Pretends to look busy if Lucifer is around

Also complains to Demon Resources about Lucifer daily

Fights with Levi on your breaks because he also wants to spend time with you when he can

Is the reason some coworkers don't approach you

He makes it known to not fuck with you

Diavolo heard you started a new job alongside the brothers! He goes to visit with Barbatos in tow.

Diavolo:

"Can I get a little help here?"

Flirts with you while on the clock. He thinks the red vest on you is cute!

Was wowed by the store in general

(Normally Barbatos does the shopping alone)

Liked sampling the food that was around the store

Was tempted to apply but Barbatos shut it down

Took a photo of Lucifer in his manager clothes

Barbatos:

"Seeing you here will make my shopping trips more enjoyable."

Praises your work

Did have to go to customer service to complain and ran into Asmo

Didn't believe Asmo was gonna clean the restrooms but at least the complaint was taken

Takes a survey and compliments you

Has to fight Dia to get him off the racecar cart

"It's for parents with children my lord."

Returns the cart to the cart corral like an upstanding citizen

My first bulleted story post lol. I had fun with this & hope to make more in the future. <3

⬦You might also like: Coconut︱Mexican Restaurant︱Waffle House︱You ARE The Father

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year

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Pick Your Poison

Request: from @doctorsteeb OH YOU SAY YOU NEED MORE ROSSI!DAUGHTER REQUEST?? I AM HERE I HAVE ARRIVED

Rossi!daughter being a barista and unknowingly serving BAU their coffee all the time? Then eventually learning she’s rossi’s daughter?

(Tell me if this is Too Specific I can be more vague)

David Rossi x daughter!reader, Criminal minds x platonic!reader

Summary: You've been serving coffee to the BAU team for months... imagine their shock when they learn that you're David Rossi's daughter.

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! I love writing rossi daughter. The sass, the italian nicknames, the banter- it's so much fun! I hope you enjoy this! (this does include the request of reader having studied abroad but I'm doing a seprate fic for that one as well)

CW: an absurd amount of talk about types of coffee, if you look up the meaning of rossi's nickname for reader you might cry

---

It was 4:00 AM when your shift at the coffee shop began. It didn’t open until 5:00, but you were in charge of opening the place yourself. You didn’t mind, though; it gave you time to think about how you might mess with your dad’s co-workers that day.

Rossi went back to work at the BAU just before you entered high school. With his busy work schedule, you both agreed that a boarding school close to home would be best. When it came time for college, you applied to a few schools in the States, but you had an itch to see the world. It was an incredible, well-earned surprise when you were accepted into the University of Bologna in Italy. Your dad had been incredibly supportive, and even though your extended family was dysfunctional at best, he was happy you’d be going somewhere there were relatives nearby.

You loved Italy, but after graduation you had wanted to move home and take a gap year. A friend from high school had opened a coffee shop not far from the Quantico office, and having been a barista at a local shop through college to help pay for your student costs (not that you needed it when your dad could easily afford your tuition) it was the perfect situation.

The fact that your dad’s co-workers were your most frequent customers didn’t hurt either. Not that they knew you were David Rossi’s daughter - your tag only displayed your given name - but it was interesting to have such casual interactions with the people your father spent most of his time with. And having been raised by a profiler, you had a little too much fun knowing something that the best minds in the nation didn’t.

---

It was 4:56 AM when Aaron Hotchner pushed open the door to the shop. Had it been any other customer, you would have told them that it didn’t actually open for another four minutes, but the man was there frequently enough that you really didn’t care. Plus, his order was about as simple as possible to make: a robusta medium roast from Columbia with a single shot of espresso. After only a few weeks, you noticed that he ordered an extra shot in his morning coffee about three days after a case, when the paperwork was the most heavy. This happened to be one of those days.

“Good morning, Mr. Hotchner,” you greeted him. “I’m already working on your usual this morning, unless of course you would like to try something new.” You knew he wouldn’t.

“Thank you,” he said, looking down at his watch. “Could I get an extra shot of espresso?”

You put a lid on the cup and handed it to him, moving to the register to ring him up. “Already done,” you told him.

He chuckled a bit- the smallest smile escaping his lips. “Do I really look that bad?” He handed you cash as he always did so he could leave the change in the tip jar. This morning he was either so tired he hadn’t thought about the bill he pulled out of his wallet, or he was feeling generous. By what you had heard about him from your dad, it was probably the latter.

“Not at all,” you handed him his change. “We all need the extra boost some days.”

“Thank you,” he said, putting all his change in the jar before leaving the shop.

He hurried out so quickly he didn’t even notice that you had written out his order on the board of specials for the day, calling it “The Unit Chief”.

---

As always, Spencer Reid was the first customer you served once the shop had officially opened. The doctor, unlike his boss, enjoyed exploring the different brews - always asking what region the beans had come from and giving you facts or statistics about his drink choice for that day. You listened to him ramble as you prepared him an arabica light roast grown in Asia; a bean the shop had just received.

“About a third of the world's coffee comes from Asia, but when asked the average American usually assumes that their coffee has been grown in Latin America or Africa,” he explained. “It’s also widely agreed upon by coffee enthusiasts that Asia produces the sweetest coffee.”

“Well then you won’t be needing as much sweetener as normal, Doctor,” you said as you handed him his order. “But I refilled the jar of sugar just for you.”

“Oh, thanks,” he said, grabbing three packs of sugar- two less than normal- and stuffing them into his jacket pocket. “Have a nice day!” He smiled awkwardly before turning and leaving out the door.

As soon as he left you wrote down his order on the specials board, deeming it “The Genius”. He wouldn’t notice you wrote the same words on his cup until he sat down at Quantico.

---

You weren’t quite sure who would be in to get their coffee next, but you smiled when it was Agent Jerau. There was something about the petite blonde and how easily she made conversation that brought a sense of serenity to your day. The rest of the team were very distinct- the kind of people you could look at and simply believe that they worked for the BAU- but other than being absurdly pretty, Jennifer was normal.

Even her arabica “bean of the day” cappuccino was the most common order out of all of them, with the exception that she always bought a single iced cookie to go with it.

“In all the time I’ve worked here I haven’t actually tried these cookies,” you told her as you pulled one out of the pastry display and put it in a bag.

“Neither have I,” she said. “But my son loves them.”

You thought of the little blonde boy that sometimes accompanied her and her fiance to the shop on the weekends. He always got a cup of steamed milk to look like his parents, but he always ended up dunking his cookie in it when they sat down at a table.

“I’ll have to try one then.”

The agent left before she could notice the board, which had her order paired with an iced cookie named “The Mother” written among the rest.

---

Per usual, Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia came into the shop together. You knew their flirtatious behavior was actually a demonstration of a platonic friendship, but that was only because Rossi had told you so.

“Baby Girl,” Morgan said to Garcia as you handed him his normal robusta medium roast red eye with just enough hazelnut creamer that the coffee wasn’t ridiculously bitter, “I’ve got the payment for today.”

“Derek, you know very well that I can and will hack into the system and change the credit card number to mine,” she told him, quickly glancing at you to say. “I promise I’m not stealing money from the shop. I love local businesses. If anything I would give you more money so this place stays open.”

You smiled, preparing her extremely complex order that changed slightly from day-to-day but always stayed as sweet as possible. Today it was an arabica medium roast from Ethiopia with all the fixings to complete the order into a chocolate caramel mocha.

“I’m sure my boss would appreciate that,” you told her. The idea of your father having to deal with a woman as sweet and eccentric as Penelope never failed to make you laugh.

She dug a handful of coins out of her purse to put in the tip jar before her and Morgan bid you a good day and left to go to work. You adjusted the order labeled “The Techie” to fit her drink for that day, but left Derek’s alone - “The Door Destroyer.”

---

Emily Prentiss was the last of the team to grab her coffee that morning. You were aware that she was the most observant in everyday situations, but that morning she was behind schedule by around ten minutes. Her boots clicked against the floor of the shop - lower pitched than the sound of heels but higher than those of men’s shoes. She moved fast towards the counter.

“I have your order ready,” you told her. “Robusta african dark roast latte with a double shot of espresso.”

“Thank you so much.” She paid quickly, leaving a handsome tip.

In all her rush her observation skills had faltered. Not only had she missed that she had a milk mustache, but she also didn’t see that her order on the board was labeled “The Modern Femme Fatale”.

---

“So,” Rossi said casually. “The best coffee near Quantico?”

With all the extra paperwork, the team had decided they needed extra caffeine, a short break, and some fresh air. Even Hotch thought it was a good idea, which is how David Rossi ended up walking towards the Pick Your Poison coffee shop with the rest of the BAU.

“It’s great,” Reid started. “They let you pick everything from the location, the bean type, the roast. There was this one time they got in a robusta from Brazil that-”

“Or you can just pick from their menu,” JJ told Rossi, interrupting Reid before he could go on any further. “It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“If you say so,” Rossi replied nonchalantly.

The team filed into the cafe and he saw you working behind the counter, your hair pulled away from your face as you checked the machinery. You looked up at them as they entered, all still oblivious to the small daily specials board that had their orders on it.

They greeted you and ordered one at a time, the same thing each of them had gotten that morning, leaving Rossi for last. He smiled when he stepped up to the counter and pulled you into a hug. “Mio passerotta.”

You returned his hug, a wide smile spreading across your face. “Ciao, Papa.”

“Wait-” Emily, being the only other person in the room who spoke Italian, picked up on it first. “You’re Rossi’s daughter?”

You laughed. “Have been all my life.”

The team looked around at one another, all slightly confused.

“How did you not know that we work with your dad?” JJ asked.

You shook your head. “Oh, no. I knew. I just wanted to see how long it would take you all to figure it out.”

Morgan looked stunned, Garcia’s jaw couldn’t drop any further, and Reid was tilting his head, probably trying to pick out the similarities between you and your dad.

Hotch turned to Rossi. “Dave, care to explain?”

“It was her idea, not mine.” He held up his hands defensively.

"You've been working here for five months, three weeks, and six days," Reid said.

"That is an excellent observation, doctor," you replied. "In my dad's defense, he said I had to confess before the six month mark."

"I'm suprised it took a confession in the first place," Rossi, then turned to you. “Now, I’ll speak in English so the nerds can understand. What specials do you have today?”

“Well,” You glanced at the special’s board, “If you’re going for the most caffeine I would choose “The Unit Chief” or “The Modern Femme Fatale”. “The Door Destroyer” has the strongest flavor on the bitter side and both “The Genius” and “The Techie” lean towards sweet. I’d recommend “The Mother”, but it’s past 11 AM and we all know how la mia bisnonna feels about cappuccinos past the morning.”

The team looked around at one another in complete shock over the specials order board you had put together. A smirk crossed your face as they gawked at you ever so slightly.

Your dad chuckled. “I’ll just go with a good old fashioned un caffe, then.”

“Presto in arrivo,” you said, and got to work on everyone’s order’s, but not before adding a single shot of espresso to the board called “Mia Papa.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #david rossi #rossi x daughter!reader #rossi x child!reader #david rossi x daughter!reader #david rossi x child!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x platonic!reader #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x child!reader

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commodorez · 3 months

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If the Commodore 64 is great, where is the Commodore 65?

It sits in the pile with the rest of history's pre-production computers that never made it. It's been awhile since I went on a Commodore 65 rant...

The successor to the C64 is the C128, arguably the pinnacle of 8-bit computers. It has 3 modes: native C128 mode with 2MHz 8502, backwards compatible C64 mode, and CP/M mode using a 4MHz Z80. Dual video output in 40-column mode with sprites plus a second output in 80-column mode. Feature-rich BASIC, built in ROM monitor, numpad, 128K of RAM, and of course a SID chip. For 1985, it was one of the last hurrahs of 8-bit computing that wasn't meant to be a budget/bargain bin option.

For the Amiga was taking center stage at Commodore -- the 16-bit age is here! And its initial market performance wasn't great, they were having a hard time selling its advanced capabilities. The Amiga platform took time to really build up momentum square in the face of the rising dominance of the IBM PC compatible. And the Amiga lost (don't tell the hardcore Amiga fanboys, they're still in denial).

However, before Commodore went bankrupt in '94, someone planned and designed another successor to the C64. It was supposed to be backwards compatible with C64, while also evolving on that lineage, moving to a CSG 4510 R3 at 3.54MHz (a fancy CMOS 6502 variant based on a subprocessor out of an Amiga serial port card). 128K of RAM (again) supposedly expandable to 1MB, 256X more colors, higher resolution, integrated 3½" floppy not unlike the 1581. Bitplane modes, DAT modes, Blitter modes -- all stuff that at one time was a big deal for rapid graphics operations, but nothing that an Amiga couldn't already do (if you're a C65 expert who isn't mad at me yet, feel free to correct me here).

The problem is that nobody wanted this.

Sure, Apple had released the IIgs in 1986, but that had both the backwards compatibility of an Apple II and a 16-bit 65C816 processor -- not some half-baked 6502 on gas station pills. Plus, by the time the C65 was in heavy development it was 1991. Way too late for the rapidly evolving landscape of the consumer computer market. It would be cancelled later that same year.

I realize that Commodore was also still selling the C64 well into 1994 when they closed up shop, but that was more of a desperation measure to keep cash flowing, even if it was way behind the curve by that point (remember, when the C64 was new it was a powerful, affordable machine for 1982). It was free money on an established product that was cheap to make, whereas the C65 would have been this new and expensive machine to produce and sell that would have been obsolete from the first day it hit store shelves. Never mind the dismal state of Commodore's marketing team post-Tramiel.

Internally, the guy working on the C65 was someone off in the corner who didn't work well with others while 3rd generation Amiga development was underway. The other engineers didn't have much faith in the idea.

The C65 has acquired a hype of "the machine that totally would have saved Commodore, guise!!!!1!11!!!111" -- saved nothing. If you want better what-if's from Commodore, you need to look to the C900 series UNIX machine, or the CLCD. Unlike those machines which only have a handful of surviving examples (like 3 or 4 CLCDs?), the C65 had several hundred, possibly as many as 2000 pre-production units made and sent out to software development houses. However many got out there, no software appears to have surfaced, and only a handful of complete examples of a C65 have entered the hands of collectors. Meaning if you have one, it's probably buggy and you have no software to run on it. Thus, what experience are you recapturing? Vaporware?

The myth of the C65 and what could have been persists nonetheless. I'm aware of 3 modern projects that have tried to take the throne from the Commodore 64, doing many things that sound similar to the Commodore 65.

The Foenix Retro Systems F256K:

The 8-Bit Guy's Commander X16

The MEGA65 (not my picture)

The last of which is an incredibly faithful open-source visual copy of the C65, where as the other projects are one-off's by dedicated individuals (and when referring to the X16, I don't mean David Murray as he's not the one doing the major design work).

I don't mean to belittle the effort people have put forth into such complicated projects, it's just not what I would have built. In 2019, I had the opportunity to meet the 8-Bit Guy and see the early X16 prototype. I didn't really see the appeal, and neither did David see the appeal of my homebrew, the Cactus.

Build your own computer, build a replica computer. I encourage you to build what you want, it can be a rewarding experience. Just remember that the C65 was probably never going to dig Commodore out of the financial hole they had dug for themselves.

#commodore #c65 #commodore 65

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ofallthingsnasty · 2 months

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Darling who doesn’t speak their yandere’s language…oh the possibilities

Yandere can say anything and their darling wouldn’t understand. They’d probably tell darling the most depraved and lewd things and darling would be like “Hm? What does that mean?” and yandere would tell them “It means ‘Have a good day’!” ☺️

Or if a darling escapes and tries to go to the authorities for help. They won’t understand what darling is saying and yandere will swoop in and tell them “oh this is my friend visiting from another country. They must have gotten lost, poor thing, thank you for keeping them safe for me!”

The possibilities, indeed…

tags: yandere, minors dni, starts out with general yandere tropes, then shifts to One Piece and then to one of my OCs (Evan), just silly ramblings, really wc: 0.8k

From the malicious ones who pick a foreign darling on purpose - one, because it makes it harder for you to leave and two, because you’ll be more difficult to find by your own country’s police force, just because of the sheer amount of bureaucracy. You’re just so dependent on them. If they drag you out into the country (and out of the city, where you will find way more speakers of your language), change up your appearance and introduce you as their spouse - they could keep you for years, probably. Even have you around in the public, if they’re cocky. And if they just stuff you in the basement… No one will ever find you. So, even if you aren’t their little secret - you still need them for everything. From doctor’s appointments to simple shopping trips, to conversations with the neighbors… They’ll keep you dumb and complacent, translate what others say to you and you to them however it fits their own interests. And if you are just the little basement spouse, well… Have fun trying to break out of your confines and then running to the next house where you’ll be regarded as nothing but some crazy person hurriedly gesturing and trying to scream at anyone you can lay an eye on. They can’t understand you - and there are all sorts of scams out there today, who knows what your real motive is? No, no, that door is closing even before you can finish your first sentence. What a bleak fate. Then there are the egoistic ones - the ones who can communicate with you, but you can’t do the same with your environment. They want to be the center of your universe, their everything, the only way you experience life - not out of malice, but out of sheer obsession. I don’t think such a type would pick a foreign darling on purpose, but it’s a massive plus for them. It’s going to be just you and them, in your own little world, where they might as well be your god with how much power they hold over you. I could also see a spouse-turned-captor type go this route - just in reverse. They’d probably get you to move somewhere you’re a fish out of water and they very much aren’t - just to make it almost impossible for you to leave them. Because not only do they manage everything for you now, no, there is a financial aspect to this… Do you even have the money to move back? Or are you stuck in a foreign place, strapped for cash and without any helping hands? Goodness, you better think twice about breaking up with them, hm?

Also, I have to bring my fandom du jour into this - but this makes me think of Sanji, at least in a roundabout way. If we’re talking about a modern AU, I think he would immensely enjoy a foreign darling. In general, I see him not as a classic yandere, but more as someone who slowly morphs into one because he loves you so deeply, is so dependent on you. And you know what he’d adore? If you had to communicate with the rest of the world through him. He’d do anything for you - and I really mean anything. That man hangs on every word that falls from your lips, knows how to interpret every little twitch of your eyebrow, would crawl into your skin if he could - the thought of you having to lean on him in such a way, to give back even a fraction of that love and need he has for you… He’s obsessed with it. Not only can he truly and fully keep you to himself if you two were to move out of the country, you’d need him for everything. On the surface, he’s such a sweet, adoring husband but deep, deep down he’s a total creep. You’ll probably never see it coming, just take that little idea of his to move as something that would benefit you, first and foremost - because to you, Sanji never thinks about his own well-being, only yours. Aren’t you so lucky? And you know who would love a foreigner darling as well? One of my werewolf boys, Evan. Not necessarily because it makes things easier (it’s certainly a plus, just not intentional), but because he gets incredibly sentimental over the fact that he can teach you English. He views himself as your knight in shining armor, your husband, the love of your life - and god, wouldn’t it be so cute, such an amazing bonding experience to teach you his language? Once he sees you, he’s already dreaming of long nights spent pouring over books, of you clumsily parroting whatever he tells you to say. You’re going to be so grateful for all his work, too, he just knows it! Honestly, the moment the idea pops into his head, he’s immediately making a wishlist for all sorts of books and learning material one could feed an English second language learner.

#such a fun trope...#i've been working on an OC/Reader fic with a foreign darling and it really tickles me...#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere one piece #tw.yandere #OC: Evan #/sanji #/one piece

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cloudnaiii · 3 months

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HER MAFIA BOSS (TEASER)

Hey guys here is a preview to a series I'm thing of writing- let me know if you like it and if I should write the whole series :)

You owe him a cash debt. Well really your father did but now that he's dead your the one who has to pay him back. Him- Jeon Jungkook- the most powerful mafia in South Korea. A man who everyone fears, including you.

That's how you ended up face to face with the mysterious man himself, and he was asking you to .... marry him?!?

"What did you just say"

"You owe me $100,000, and lets be real darling you'll never be able to pay me back, so theres only one way to setter this - marry me." Your heart raced and you couldn't breathe. Marry him? Marry this-this monster?

Jungkook stood watching your internal debacle, looking quite amused.

"Think of my offer, it's a win-win situation" He said taking a sip of gin as his eyes pressed down on you, a sly smile on his lips.

"I- I don't understand, why would you want to marry me, how does that benifit you at all?" You stutter, confused at his proclamation.

"Oh, that's easy." He says with a sly grin. "I need to find someone who's trustworthy and loyal to marry, and I think you're the perfect one. Plus, you're absolutely gorgeous."

You looked mildly terrified at the sheer craziness of it all.

Don't look so scared." He says with a sly grin. "Think of it this way, if you marry me I'll cancel all your debts and you'll be safe as long as you don't make me mad. I'm a generous guy, right?"

His voice was smooth and gentle, his eyes darkening seductively as he spoke.

"But you dont even know me" You countered.

"but thats where your wrong." He says playfully, smiling cheekily at you. "I know everything about you"

T/B/C????

#jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts junkook #mafia jungkook #jungkook #mafia au

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the-s1lly-corner · 3 months

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Valentines with ej?

Valentines w/ EJ

probably only going to answer this request and another one today!! kind of feeling mushy brained and more out of it than usual + i still got art wips to work on

youre probably going to have to remind him, dont drop hints. be direct with him and make it clear that you want to do something for the holiday. ej has a hard time keeping track of time and dates given he spends the majority of his time in a cabin

dropping hints and dancing around it is only going to cause issues (plus he just generally prefers people to just get to their point, this man needs clear communication)

very limited in what he can do for you since he doesnt have cash and he cant exactly wander into a shop even if he did have the money

probably makes you something handmade

uses the fact he lives out in the wilderness to his advantage, i think he would get you a bunch of flowers...

might try his hand at making a flower crown for you, though be warned its going to not be... the best...

if you want him to spend the day at your place, hes going to sneak in as soon as he can.. might make you dinner

not a bad cook, surprisingly

i mean he used to be a normal person who had to provide for himself, hes still got his skills

he doesnt say he loves you often, he knows he should say it more and he wishes he could but hes got the "i dont deserve you" thoughts deeply internalized in him.. but i think he would push the point that you mean the world to him

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta imagine #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack imagine

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celandeline · 2 years

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Pretty Handsome Awkward (Eddie Munson x Reader) (Smut)

If you wanted to get your hands on some bud at Hawkins, you had a couple of options to go to.

There was Reefer Rick, of course - your general sleazy twenty something with a shitty day job and a shittier car. There was Margot Roser - a junior who was really into art classes and had glasses thicker than a car windshield. A couple of the jocks would sell if they were short on cash, but by far the safest and best priced option was Eddie Munson - your dealer of choice.

Unlike Rick, he never made you feel uncomfortable. Unlike Margot, he had never judged your for buying. And unlike the jocks, he was actually friendly, occasionally waving to you in the hallways or saying hi in class. Definitely the best option out of the few available.

He made you look forward to buying your weed for more than one reason. It was always good to have weed (especially on a Friday before a long weekend, like today), and it was always good to see Eddie.

You flipped your notebook closed as the clock above the board hit three, and the bell sounded through the halls, signaling the end of the day. You rose from your seat, sliding your book back into your bag and joining the flow of your classmates leaving the room, spreading out into the hallways to their respective lockers.

You made your way to your locker, putting in the combination and opening the door, taking out the rest of the books you would need to bring home with you. Of course, you had no plans to touch any of them until Monday night, but it was good to be prepared.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You responded automatically, recognizing Becca’s voice without having to turn and look at her.

“Doing anything tonight?” She asked. “Me and a few other girls were going to go see that new horror flick if you wanted to come. I could pick you up.”

“Depends on when it is.” You said. “Cuz I’ve got tutoring after school, so…” A lie, of course, but you weren’t going to just put and say you were going to a drug deal after school.

“Oh right…” Becca said. “We we’re going to go around four, but you’ll probably still be in tutoring huh?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, feigning disappointment. Sure, you would have liked to go to the movies with Becca, but you wouldn’t miss your weekly weed deal with Eddie for the world. “Definitely next time.”

“Yeah, next time.” Becca said. “I guess I’ll see you this weekend sometime then.”

“Totally.” You said, closing your locker and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Call me when you want to make plans.”

“I will!” Becca said, heading off towards the doors that lead to the bud circle. “See you!”

“Bye!” You said, turning to head the opposite direction, towards the back of the school.

The walk to the secret little picnic table where you met Eddie wasn’t long - you traveled the halls until you reached the double doors next to the gym, and then it was a simple trek down the hill and into the woods behind the school. You had walked the path enough that it was familiar.

Eddie was already waiting for you as you approached the table. Catching sight of you, he smiled. “Fancy running into you here, huh.”

“Come here often?” You returned, letting your bag slide off your shoulder and sitting on the bench across the table from him, returning the smile.

Just seeing Eddie was enough to make your mood lift. His goofy smile, his big brown eyes, the frizzy hair that he played with often - it was safe to say that you had always had a little crush on him. It was a small thing - the sort of crush that one might develop on a stranger on the street. But it was still there, sending little butterflies through your stomach every time you sat down to buy weed from him.

“Same amount as usual?” Eddie asked, popping open the black tin box he constantly carried with him.

“Yup.” You said. You never bought more than enough to get you through a week - both to keep your use under control and as an excuse to see Eddie at least weekly. Plus, it was kinder to your wallet.

Eddie popped open his box and you dug your wallet out of your pocket, opening the clasp to sift through the bills. You pulled out two twenties, laying them on the table and looking for the extra ten you needed to finish paying. But all you found was two singles.

Eddie slid a little bag over to you and scooped up the money in the same fluid motion. “I’m missing ten, sweetheart.”

“I can give you two.” You said, shooting Eddie your sweetest smile.

“Wow.” Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“I’m sorry!” You said. “I thought I had enough but I guess I must have spent it on something else! I get paid next Friday, so I can give it to you then-“

“This is unprecedented.” Eddie said, grinning at you. “You always have the money.”

“Can’t I get a discount or put it on credit or something?” You asked.

Eddie paused, thinking. “Well, you are one of my most loyal customers…”

“I would argue the most loyal.” You said.

“Tell you what.” Eddie said, folding his arms on the table. “I’ll let you have the stuff-“

“Sweet!”

“- on the condition that we smoke the ten you can’t pay for right now.” He finished.

It wasn’t an awful proposition- you’d still be getting your weed, you’d just have to share some. And it was Eddie. While you’d never smoked with him before, you couldn’t imagine that he’d be bad company.

“I’ll take that.” You said.

Eddie grinned. “Awesome.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” The words slipped out of your mouth as you thought them, no regard for how they would be received. You were too high to care.

Eddie exhaled smoke into the air, sprawled out on the table. “Tell me.”

You leaned back in your seat, resting your back against the edge of the table and your head on Eddie’s stomach. Giggling, you spat it out. “I have a mini crush on you.”

Eddie sat up slightly. “What for real?”

“Yeah for real.” You said, sitting up to look at him. “You’re like, cute. And nice to me. And you sell me weed for cheap.”

“Yeah, but all that doesn’t mean you have a crush on me.” He said.

“Pretty sure it does.” You said. “Cuz I definitely have a crush on you.”

A moment passed, and you stole the joint back from Eddie, taking a hit and exhaling it up into the branches of the trees above you. You weren’t really expecting him to say anything about it, but you just figured he should know. Seemed like the polite thing to do.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Eddie asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.” You said.

“I kind of have a little crush on you too.” He admitted slowly, watching your face.

“That’s crazy.” You said, grinning. “We both have crushes on each other.”

“Pretty weird.” Eddie agreed, shifting on the table to slide off and plop down onto the bench next to you. The smile on his face stretched from ear to ear. “How is this the first time we’re smoking together?”

“Dunno.” You said, taking another hit. “I guess it just never happened.”

Eddie leaned closer, stealing the joint from your hand and putting it between his own lips. “Shame. We could have been doing this every week.”

“Well, we’re doing it now.” You said.

“Yeah.” Eddie placed a hand on your thigh. “C’mere.”

You leaned closer to him, letting him place his other hand under your jaw and guide your lips together. It was only a moment before he was breathing smoke into your mouth, letting you steal the hit. You held it for a moment before leaning back, exhaling with wide eyes.

“That was hot.” You said.

Eddie swallowed, his eyes stuck to your lips. “You wanna do it again without the smoke?”

“Yeah.” You said, voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie crushed your lips together, kissing you. You met his energy, deepening the kiss almost immediately. Between the pleasant buzz of the weed and the fact that it was him kissing you, you felt like you were floating.

Eddie groaned low in his throat, hands falling to the small of your back and pulling you halfway into his lap. You finished the job, swinging your leg over to straddle him.

“God.” Eddie said, breaking the kiss to tip his head back slightly and look you in the eye. “You’re like… really pretty. And sitting on my lap. And we just kissed. This is crazy.”

You giggled, leaning forward to sling your arms around his neck. “Yeah.” You agreed. You were sitting on Eddie Munsons lap, having just kissed him.

Your thoughts were broken when Eddie started mouthing at your neck, leaving wet kisses under your ear and trailing down to your collarbone. You let out a shaky breath, tipping your head back. “Fuck.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked. “You wanna?”

You giggled, looking back at him. “I don’t have a condom or anything. And we’re in the middle of the woods. At school.”

Eddie wriggled under you, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, flipping it open and sliding out a condom. “Gotcha covered babe.”

“We’ll in that case…” You wiggled on Eddie’s lap, beginning to grind against his crotch.

Eddie hummed low in his throat, eyes dropping to half mast as he watched you work yourself over his jeans. You could feel him getting hard underneath you, dick beginning to poke at the denim covering it. It hadn’t even taken a full minute for him to get hard.

“You’re so hot.” Eddie said, winding a hand behind your neck to pull you back down to him, pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss. You let him, stopping your grinding to focus on kissing him.

“So are you.” You said. You could feel your heartbeat between your legs - a surefire sign that you were violently turned on. You weren’t surprised though - it was Eddie, after all. You ran your hands through his hair, playing with the curls. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“You could have just asked.” Eddie said, tipping his head so that his hair cascaded down his shoulders, letting you play with the waves.

“Would’ve been weird before.” You said, beginning to grind again.

Eddie stopped you with a hand on your hip, the other working at the button of your pants. “Help me out here, would ya?”

“Sure thing.” You said, getting up from where you were straddling him to easily shuck your pants off, leaving them on the table. You watched as Eddie’s eyes skipped down your legs and he sucked in a breath. “You too.”

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie said, getting up to slide out of his jeans, tossing them where you had put yours. His hard on was even more evident now that he was just in his boxers, dick making a tent in the fabric.

Placing a hand on your hip, Eddie sat back down, pulling you back down to straddle him. “This can’t be a one time thing.”

“Definitely not.” You said, getting back to business pulling the top of Eddie’s boxers down to free his dick. Taking a hand, you wet it with your mouth before wrapping it around him, stroking slowly.

Eddie breathed out a sigh, tipping his head back for a moment. “Fuck.”

You hummed low in your throat, enjoying watching his reaction. He was so pliant like this, almost putty in your hands.

Not all the way though. Eddie snaked a hand into your underwear, feeling around. Even just the exploratory touches made your blood thrum, and you bit your lip to keep from whimpering. Maybe it was the weed, but you felt extra sensitive. Or maybe it was just the effect Eddie had.

“Shit.” Eddie said, beginning to really stroke. He didn’t even have to look to know what he was doing.

“What?” You breathed, leaning forward to mouth at his neck.

“You’re like, really turned on.” He said. “It’s hot. When you said you had a crush on me I didn’t really believe you but like, shit, I’m feeling it.”

“So are you.” You said, stroking him a little faster. Eddie keened at the motion, thighs shaking a little.

“Fuck,” He breathed. “Fuck fuck fuck- you gotta stop or I’m gonna bust.”

You slowed to a stop until you were just holding his dick. “Isn’t that the point?”

“I don’t wanna be done.” Eddie said, reaching for the condom he’d pulled from his wallet. “I haven’t got to fuck you yet.”

It was your turn to bite back a groan as Eddie began to finger you, stretching you open in preparation. He leaned forward, attaching his teeth to your neck and sucking a patch of skin into his mouth. You sighed shakily, the feeling making you clench around his fingers.

“God you’re so hot.” Eddie said, lips moving against the bruise he’d just sucked into your neck. “You’re so beautiful, and nice and it’s crazy that you even talk to me-“

“God shut up.” You groaned, fucking yourself back against Eddie’s fingers. “Of course I talk to you idiot, you’re one of my favorite people ever.”

Eddie just about whimpered at that, sliding another finger into, really stretching you open now. You could feel his dick jump against your thigh, a reminder of just how badly you wanted him.

Leaning close to his ear, you whispered, “Please fuck me Eddie.”

Eddie pulled his finger from you then, reaching for the condom he’d pulled earlier and tearing open the foil. In one fluid movement, he rolled it onto his dick, stroking a few times.

You raised yourself up onto your knees more, one hand going to wrap around Eddie’s dick again, lining him up. You sunk down slowly, feeling him stretch out your insides to fit. You groaned in unison at the feeling.

“God.” Eddie said. “Holy shit. Fuck.”

“Gonna last?” You asked, beginning to rock your hips against his gently.

“Maybe not.” Eddie said honestly. “You feel really fucking good.”

“Better fuck me while you can then.” You said.

Eddie groaned again, arms wrapping around your waist as he began to buck up into you, eyes falling shut and mouth falling open. You breathed in sharply, savoring the stretch of your hole around him and the feeling of him bottoming out inside you, reaching far inside.

“Fuck, Eddie.” You said, head falling against his collarbone.

Eddie just whimpered, keeping a steady tempo. Between the weed in your system and the fact that it was him, you could feel the pleasure growing as he continued, pooling in your gut and causing you to begin to clench down.

“Mmm not gonna last.” Eddie gritted out.

“It’s okay- oh!”

Eddie ran a hand down your front, beginning to rub and stroke in tandem with his thrusts, coaxing the pleasure out faster and more intensely. Maybe you weren’t going to last long either…

“Shit.” Eddie panted, somehow fucking into you harder, borderline slamming into you. It was the change in speed that tipped you over the edge, your thighs shaking as you came. It didn’t take him long to follow you over the edge, fucking into you a handful of times before you felt him twitch and still.

For a moment, you both sat there in silence, still connected at the groin. It was Eddie who spoke first.

“That was really good.”

“Agreed.” You said, getting back up on your knees so Eddie could slide out. He pulled the condom off, tying the end and setting it aside.

“So.” He said, looking up at you.

“So.” You repeated.

“We should hang out this weekend.” He said. “Maybe we could go to dinner or something.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Eddie returned your grin, sheepish. “Maybe?”

You pretended to ponder before pressing a kiss to his lips. “Yes.”

“Wait, really?”

“Of course, Eddie.”

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