#the criminal element is always there just waiting for this :)
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shoplifter
Pairings: Step Dad Mark x Security Guard Jeno x afab Reader
Summary: when you got caught stealing in a sex shop, you thought you'd earn another lecture from your stepdad. however, the lesson was not what you’d excepted
Genre: smut
Warnings: noncon elements, unprotected sex (be safe!), anal sex, rough sex, threesome, stepcest, double penetration, face slapping, pussy slapping, humiliation, degradation, fingering, dirty talk, spanking, squirting, creampie, overstimulation.
Word count: 3k+
THIS IS NOT YOUR TYPICAL GIRL DINNER. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION
You sat there, your gaze fixated on the ticking clock, the anticipation clawing at your nerves. The wait was killing you—you’d been caught in this stupid fucking store, having maybe tried to leave without paying. The rent-a-cop had seized you, dragging you into the dimly lit backroom, but you managed to pull the name of Mark Lee out of your pocket like a desperate trump card. A way to escape the clutches of this predicament. The guard had glowered at you, reluctantly agreeing to make the call.
Mark would undoubtedly give you hell for this, yet he would also ensure that this embarrassing incident remained hidden from prying eyes. He wouldn't want the world to know that his step-daughter had been caught in the act of petty larceny within the confines of a sex shop.
So, all you had to do was wait.
The guard had given you a hard time when you dropped Mark's name. As if your father—no, your stepfather, you had corrected him—being who you claimed, he was automatically invalidated any suspicion. According to the guard, if your lineage held true, you could afford those tantalizing toys and bottles of lubricant. And perhaps, on some level, the thrill of doing something forbidden excited you. You had made sure to emphasize that point, emphasizing both the ‘naughty’ and the ‘excited’.
Too bad your criminal career apparently went bust on your first heist.
Voices echoed outside the closed door. There was an edge to Mark's voice, a tone that sent a shiver down your spine. The guard, on the other hand, seemed to find immense amusement. Telling the rich and powerful that their children got busted stealing sex toys probably was the highlight of this guy’s week.
"Hi, Mark," you greeted him, mustering a demure smile as the door swung open.
"You have no idea how disappointed I am in you," he responded, his gaze cold and piercing. Gesturing towards the desk, he continued, his voice laced with disdain, "I've already had a chat with Jeno here... but I'd like to hear it from you. Did you steal these items?"
His eyes settled upon the incriminating evidence displayed on the desk—the dildo and the bottle of lube, silent witnesses to your foolishness. You merely shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that seemed to catch him off guard.
He sucked in a sharp breath. "You've been acting out, breaking rules since..."
"Since my mother died," you finished his unspoken words with a bitter edge.
The truth was, you had been defying rules long before that tragic event shattered your world. It was just that Mark had finally taken notice of your rebellious streak, particularly after he started sending you to that exclusive, expensive school and footing the bill for your reckless driving tickets. It had hurt, realizing that he only seemed to experience distant emotions—distant disappointment, distant pride, distant everything. But it wasn't you who had changed when the loss struck.
Still, you couldn't help but resent his attempt to guilt trip you using your mother's death. "Save the 'since your mom died' lecture for the drive home," you said sharply.
Mark scowled, a realization dawning upon you that you had never seen him truly angry. He had always kept his emotions at arm's length—detached disappointment, detached pride—those were the only versions of him you had witnessed lately. "Why did you do this?" he demanded, his voice laced with frustration.
"Because I wanted the damn dildo," you replied matter-of-factly. Your words hung in the air, unapologetic and unyielding. It didn't faze Mark. You even contemplated mentioning how lonely this summer would be since he had forbidden you from seeing those he deemed "bad influences."
"I understand, you know," Mark said, his voice devoid of its usual robotic tone. “And you could’ve paid for it, you have the money. I wouldn’t have judged you. We all need a release.”
You maintained your stance, reiterating and emphasizing your reasons. He just simply nodded. As you prepared to urge him forward, his hand landed firmly on your shoulder, and Jeno, the guard, promptly shut the door.
“Mark, wha–”
Confusion tinged your voice as you questioned what was happening, but the air in the room suddenly grew colder, the atmosphere thick with tension.
"As I mentioned, I spoke to Jeno," he began, his voice chillingly detached. "He won't pursue legal charges, and I've taken care of the stolen merchandise. However..." He paused, his words hanging ominously in the air, "I believe it's time for you to learn a lesson."
In an instant, the fabric of your shirt was torn away, leaving you gasping in surprise. Before you could react, Mark forcefully maneuvered you across the room, bending you over the edge of the desk. Shock and fear coursed through your veins as you struggled to comprehend his actions.
"What are you doing?" You exclaimed, your voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and fear.
He leaned in close, his grip tightening on a fistful of your hair. "Sweetheart, we all have to control our desires and restrain our darker impulses," he whispered, his words laced with an unsettling intensity.
Your voice quivered as you registered the pressure against you, feeling something hard pressing into you. "What?!" you managed to utter, your mind reeling from the sudden turn of events.
“I’ve watched you prance around, debasing yourself, and I tried to reign myself in, thinking you just needed time. Time’s up.” With a forceful grip, he tore your skirt away, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. "You've continued to defy me, and now it's time for you to understand the consequences of letting others have their way."
You tried to twist and strike him, but the guard grabbed your arms, wrestled them behind your back, and cuffed them. “Your daddy paid for some more toys as well.”
You struggled in vain, yelled your head off, and screamed when a hand dipped underneath your underwear and rubbed your pussy. It was only when Jeno cut you off by forcing a cloth into your mouth that you realized that it was Mark’s. You thrashed and moaned when a finger entered you. Your body shuddered, going very still when the next one entered, stroking inside.
“I wonder if this will be an effective punishment. She seems to be enjoying it.”
You shook your head and let out a furious growl until Mark pulled you up, working you over with his fingers. “You’re already wet, huh?” He asked, though it didn’t feel like a question. It felt like an observation, like he’s commenting on the weather and not your obvious arousal. “Jeno, come look at her. She’s so needy.”
“Fuck, she’s so turned on by this.” Jeno said, licking his lips as he looked down at you. He grabbed your bra and tugged, straps biting into your skin until they gave way. You squealed when he pinched a nipple. Sobbed when, while fondling that breast, he put his mouth on the other.
You shook your head. This was not happening. Your stepfather and some rent-a-cop were not raping you in a backroom at a sex shop. You were not, despite Mark’s assertions, ‘dripping wet’. You did not like being manhandled by two guys who knew what they were doing.
This was not happening.
You looked up, seeing Jeno pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. Your eyes immediately went back to the odd stains in the ground when they landed on Mark. You were certainly not intimidated by seeing your stepdad’s cock.
“This is your place of business, Jeno. So I’ll let you pick, which hole do you want?”
Okay, he had humiliated you, fondled you, but your stepdad wasn’t going to fuck you. He wasn’t going to team with some random asshole to fuck you.
“Ass.”
“Grease her up.”
You stiffened at that. Jeno tossed a bottle—that lubricant you stole, over to Mark, who had managed to wrestle your panties off you as while warding off your attempts to kick him. You tried thrashing and wriggling when they held you down and two slick fingers pressed into your ass. You never let anyone there before, and you were not going to let it happen now. You tensed, clenched, and let out a cry as the man forced his fingers inside you. Someone slapped your ass hard.
“It’ll hurt more if you keep being a stubborn bitch.” Jeno growled.
An angry, forced cough from Mark, and he corrected himself. “It’ll hurt more if you keep being stubborn.”
Apparently his stepdaughter was not a bitch, even if he was going to rape you. That was almost funny. Then your ass was slapped again and again. Mark fingered you roughly, forcing his digits in and twisting. Eventually, you yielded, relaxing your muscles. It did not go unnoticed.
“See, baby? You can be a good girl.”
Jeno stood up and walked over to the chair, sitting down and motioning towards himself. With a grunt, Mark hoisted you over his shoulder—damn, he was in shape—and approached. As much as you tried to break free, you couldn’t. Then Mark positioned you, and Jeno put one his hands on your hip. Something much thicker than those fingers pressed against your ass. You let out a muffled attempt at a “no” as you were pulled down.
He was big.
You yowled, planted your feet on the floor and tried to stand; only for Jeno’s arms to loop around your waist and pull you back down.
”Goddamn… Relax your stiff little body, you bitch… My cock won’t fit if you are so tight.” Jeno grunted into your ear and then moved his hand to your chin, taking out the gag. His thumb slipped inside your mouth, pressing at the back of your throat.
Somewhere in the back of your head as you were lifted up and down, you were thankful for that—hopefully he wouldn’t last long.
You didn’t think you could last if he didn’t finish right quick.
“Tell me how good I’m fucking your greedy little ass.” Jeno growled into your ear, a hand flicking down to rub your clit.
Your legs were struggling to stay wrapped around his, and you whimpered against his neck. Getting no response, his hand that was rubbing your clit now slapped you across the face, and his thrusts slowed yet got harder as he slapped you once more.
“What the fuck did I say? Tell me how good I’m fucking your ass!” He yelled, grabbing you by the chin to look up at him.
Your eyes stung with hot tears from the pleasure, already feeling the all too familiar knot in your stomach forming. “Please! It feels so good! M’want more!” You said through gritted teeth, whining in pleasure as he slapped you across the face once more.
“You dirty fucking whore, giving you my cock and you still want more, hmm?” Jeno knew you were close, he could tell from the way you tightened around him and from your breathing pattern. Your eyes flicked over to Mark, who now was walking over to you.
“Oh? Seems like our little whore’s enjoying this better than I thought.” He said, “I had a feeling you had the makings of a true anal slut here.”
You heard a loud ‘smack’ followed by a sharp stinging sensation exploding all over your pussy as you were suddenly spanked. Causing it to clench around nothing.
“Shit. You were right man, she’s so fucking tight. She really might be an anal slut by the end of this.” Jeno grunted, laughing. His hips never stopped moving.
“Really now,” Mark chuckled as he cupped your chin, “Anything you want to say to that, baby?”
“Th-That’s not-” You knew you were full of shit, but your pride didn’t want to admit to something embarrassing like that. With a gasp, you found yourself in a headlock. Your back was pressed against Jeno’s front, his forearm applied pressure on your windpipe.
“Now, now, it’s not good to lie like that.” He licked your face, gnawing at your earlobe. “Bad girls like you should be punished.”
“I-I’m… N-Not a bad…” You tried to deny it, but the harsh grip around your neck made it hard to get the words out. Yet in some ways, you could only think about how good this was feeling. Causing your pussy to quiver and your ass coiling around.
Mark smirked with an amused brow, “I’m sorry, don’t think we caught that.’
“I-I’m…”
The man leaned in closer, “Hm?”
“I’m… bad… girl..” You uttered.
They glanced at each other and grinned while Jeno grabbed and groped at your breasts, giving your chest a nice fondle.
“Speak up slut,” he twisted a nipple causing you to moan, “So that we could hear you.”
You looked up, tears started falling down your face. “I’m… a bad… girl…”
“That’s our girl,” The two cheered, laughing loudly at how cock-drunken you were. “Glad to see you’re finally realizing your true calling.” One of them said.
“With that said, I think it’s high time I gave you a little reward.” An evil smirk curled Mark’s lips. You wriggled, trying to get off as he traced his fingers against your pussy. “Just as a curiosity, have you ever taken two cocks before?”
“No,” you said, out of breath.
“Yeah, thought so.” He grabbed onto your hips lining his cock up to your cunt, while Jeno leaned you back a little.
Fuck. Mark smirked and watched as your face twisted into something horrified.
“Look at that, your old man is coming to join in. You gonna behave for him? Hmm, princess?”
With those words leaving Jeno’s mouth, it sent you over the edge completely, nearly screaming as you came right when Mark shoved his cock in your pussy. He hissed with how tightly you were clenching around him. Your back arched high, and Jeno continued to pound into your ass. You choked and gasped for air, the pleasure became too much for you to handle.
“P-please… S-stop!” you stuttered pathetically, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to push Mark away with your legs.
You were stuffed past the point you thought you would burst. They started out uncoordinated, being bounced up and down the big guy’s cock while the other slammed in awkwardly. But they soon found a rhythm, each withdrawing at the same time, and slamming you down on their cocks tougher. Over and over.
It was overwhelming.
“Look at your slutty fucking stepdaughter, Mark. Such a little whore,” Jeno laughed, continuing to abuse your ass with his cock.
Mark smirked as he flicked your nipple, “Does your daddy’s cock feel good inside you, princess?” then gave it a painful twist. “Wanna be a little cumslut?”
You just moaned in response, unable to form coherent words.
“I think,” Jeno reached up and pinched at your other nipple, “your daddy asked you a question.”
“Yes! Yes, I wanna be your little cumslut, please.”
Everything happening all at once was making you lose your breath. You could feel the coil tightening in your stomach. Both of the cocks hitting that sweet spot inside you. Before you even had time to react, you saw white. Your whole body lunged forward as you came around both of their cocks again, soaking them. Words couldn’t even leave your open mouth, your brain not working properly.
“Jesus Christ,” a voice said, and you couldn’t register whose. “Did you see that?”
“Yeah,” another one came. “She squirted with two cocks fucking her. Such a dirty slut, aren't you?” Several slaps landed onto your face. You assumed it’s Mark because of his position.
You couldn’t think straight anymore, body shaking pathetically under him.
“T-too… much,” you whimpered through gritted teeth, your knees moving to try and push Jeno away.
Mark roughly forced his cock back in your pussy, his own orgasm so close. With sporadic quick thrusts, Jeno bottomed out inside your ass, and you could feel it all, warm and coating every inch of your walls. You were screaming, and he held his cock inside you for a few moments before slowly pulling out of you, grunting and panting as he regained himself.
Mark’s hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing hard and grunting as you clawed at his hands. “Gonna fill you up with my cum, and you’re gonna take it all, right princess? Gonna be stuffed full of our cum?” He growled into your ear, before straightening again.
You couldn’t think straight anymore, sobs and moans escaping your lips as he fucked your sensitive cunt. Within seconds, Mark thrusted one last time into you before you felt his thick load spurting inside of you. He let out an animalistic growl as he came, grinding his hips slowly against you.
When he finished, he paused a while, nipping at your neck. Then he pulled out, and you were shoved off Jeno, sent sprawling into your stepfather. He gently laid you on your side. You laid there, face pressed against the filthy floor as clothes rustled.
“Again, thank you for calling me in on this, fuckface.” Mark said. The hell? He knew the fucking rent-a-cop.
“No worries. I didn’t believe her when she dropped your name—the picture you showed didn't quite match up.”
Picture? You forced yourself to look at the two, both half-dressed.
Mark had opened his wallet. “It is a few years old. She started dying her hair shortly after it was taken. Started wearing contacts, too.”
“What?”
“Ah, baby. Yes, me and Jeno go fairly far back.” Mark said, nodding. “I have a lot of business interests, and that means a lot of varied social circles.”
“So… about her…” Jeno said, trailing off.
Mark shrugged, contemplating the situation. "I'll leave her in your hands while I head home to fetch a change of clothes for her. Once that's done, we can make a few calls to ensure the lesson continues."
A whimper escaped your lips, particularly as Mark referred to leaving you in Jeno's "care." As if on cue, he dumped a bag containing chains and clamps onto the desk, casting a wicked grin in your direction. You instinctively tried to edge away, but Mark leaned in closely, lowering himself to one knee.
"Luckily for you, summer vacation has just begun, so you won't miss any school while you're grounded," he stated firmly, his tone holding an unusual warmth. You shook your head, refusing to accept what was unfolding before you.
"Baby," he continued, "it's crucial for you to learn that actions come with consequences. However, you're a smart girl, and with proper guidance, I'm confident we can improve your behavior."
#mark lee smut#mark smut#nct smut#jeno smut#nct mark smut#nct jeno smut#nct 127 smut#nct dream smut#kpop smut#kpop fanfic#nct fanfic#mark fanfic#jeno fanfic#mark lee fanfic
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𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍
who did you get? ♡
♱ ft. Mikey, Sanzu, Kakucho, Ran, Rindou
♱ content/warnings: slight nsfw, pure teasing, alcohol consumption, mentions of smokimg, public display of affection, high sexual tension.
♱ a/n: I had Koko and Takeomi too but then I wanted to add Shin and Waka so ig I'll do that for another post
The night was dark and cold, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of cigars and whiskey. Bonten had gathered in one of their club penthouse properties for a night of celebration, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses spilling out into the night.
Everyone was particularly in a good mood, including their leader, who was in his element, surrounded by his friends and underlings. He had worked long and hard to build his criminal empire, and now he could finally kick back and relax, secure in the knowledge that he had everything running smoothly.
As the night wore on, and the alcohol continued to flow. They told jokes and stories that they would never admit to in the daylight, and they laughed at each other's misfortunes. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for these hard-nosed executives, and they were all grateful to have each other to lean on.
As the night wore on, the alcohol began to flow freely. The men were feeling no pain, and the jokes and stories flew back and forth across the table. Until, Rindou suggested a drinking game, and the mood shifted.
He took out a spicy card game and took turns on picking one. They got…
˗ˏˋ Sanzu - lick ice cream off of the inner thigh of the player across you
The air was thick with anticipation as they waited for Sanzu to reveal his dare. And once he did, a hush fell over the group as they turned to look at you, who was sitting at the end of the table. Your face was flushed with embarrassment as you looked around your sides, figuring out if you were truly the one he picked.
The spontaneousness and spice of the dare had always been in Sanzu’s nature, but the man couldn’t help but feel his heart racing with excitement. He finally caught another reason to act his attraction towards you, with everyone else watching. When it was his turn to fulfill the dare, he took a deep breath and stood up from his seat. He could feel the rest of the group watching him as he made his way towards the woman.
The pinkette picked up a spoon and carefully scooped up some ice cream. He then made his way over to you, who was still blushing furiously, and leaned in close. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone held their breath, interested in seeing what would happen next.
And then, with a bold move, Sanzu knelt in between your legs and gently placed the spoon against your inner thigh, allowing the ice cream to melt and dribble onto the skin. You closed your eyes, anticipating the heat of his tongue meeting the icy sensation of the desert. And as you let it melt onto your skin, you could feel his pulse racing against his hands that kept your legs open.
The rest of the members are obviously enjoying themselves, sharing soft applauds to Sanzu and compliments to your body. Despite the initial embarrassment, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenalin as you watched the daredevil fulfill the bold request.
For just a brief moment, the world seemed to disappear, and it was just the two of you in your own private bubble. You could feel his breath in your core, his arms curled around your thighs, and for a moment, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he had given you a hint that he wanted to go all the way with you, on your own time and space. The tip of his nose merely pressed against your clothed clit as he finished the last drop of ice cream in between your thighs.
Afterwards, when the group had moved on to the next dare, Sanzu could feel your eyes on him, and he knew that something had changed within you. He knew that he had finally taken the first step towards his attraction.
˗ˏˋ Mikey - Act out your favorite position
Tonight, he found himself in a situation that was foreign to him, one that he had never experienced for himself before. Physical affection was not something that he was used to initiate nor display to others. It was not a part of his nature. But he knew that he had to set aside his facade of being a tough and ruthless man, even if it was killing him inside.
He took a deep breath, then turned over to the woman in question. He wrapped his arm around you for a moment, pulling you close enough to whisper into your ear, “You remember it, yeah? What we did last time…” He was obviously flustered, but his actions showed otherwise with the way he assertively held your waist and pulled you close, your bodies touching until you gathered the courage to straddle Mikey into the cowgirl position.
Mikey’s choice of position came as a shock to everyone present. The members of the organization were used to seeing him as a ruthless leader, someone who was always in control and never showed any weakness or vulnerability. But in that moment, they saw a different side of him, one that was softer, and someone who was willing to push outside their comfort zone. Mikey, for his part, was surprised by his own actions, and was a little embarrassed by the attention he received. But he also felt a sense of relief, knowing that he didn't always have to be the tough and ruthless leader, that he could be himself, even if it was just for a moment for fun.
You were almost unable to move, having Mikey’s hands planted on your waist and slowly rocking you back and forth. You could feel the bulge straining in his pants, pleased to know that the feeling of excitement and arousal is mutual. Everyone was flustered and quiet as the scene unfolds in front of them, raising suspicions that this had happened before (which it has). You couldn’t take your eyes off of Mikey with the way he tried so hard to stifle a whimper, throwing his head to the edge of the couch as you moved.
And then, as suddenly as it had come, the moment was over. The game had moved on, and Mikey was left sitting there, feeling a mix of emotions. A part of him wanted to hold on to that feeling, to explore it further and see where it might take him. But another part of him knew that he had a reputation to maintain, that he had to maintain his poise and composure for the rest of the night.
˗ˏˋ Kakucho — Passionately kiss the neck of the player on your left
He peeked as you drew this card, and he almost choked on his whiskey when Kakucho realized that he would be the one to receive the action from you. “I’m not doing it if you don’t want to.” You chuckled and prepared to pour shots as an alternative to the dare. “Where’s the fun in that? Go as long as you’d like.” Kakucho wouldn’t usually jump on something so daring on a normal day, but all the alcohol he’s consumed through the night definitely pushed him to encourage you. Sat in a manspread and arms spread over the couch, you sat on his right thigh and wrapped your arms around his neck.
He could feel the texture of your hair tickling the exposed skin of his chest, and the lingering scent of your perfume. He wanted to make a comment and praise how good you’re doing, but the words are stuck in his throat. You leaned forward, lips just inches away from Kakucho’s neck. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, finally feeling the soft texture of his skin on your lips. Kaku’s body tensed, his muscles clenched as he let out a moan. You pulled away for a moment, catching her breath and taking in the moment.
However, you weren’t satisfied with your first kiss before deciding to lean in once more. As you kissed him once again, you felt the warmth of his skin, the softness of his flesh, and the beating of his pulse under your lips. Seconds passed and you continued to enjoy the feeling of Kakucho’s body pressing against yours, feeling a sense of intimacy you didn’t think you had.
For the next few seconds, it seemed as though time had stopped altogether. The silence was punctuated only by the sound of his breathing and the hum of the card table's lights, with the occasional pour of liquor from the other members.
Kakucho tried so hard on pulling himself together with the way you sat on his lap, his fingers digging into the armrests of the chair, whilst he bit on his other finger, making it obvious to the rest of them that he’d grown particularly fond of this dare that involved extreme physical contact with you.
Despite the rest being lost in their own thoughts, Rindou put his shot away before having to practically scold you. “Alright, that’s enough.” Just when it seemed the awkwardness would never end, you pulled away., almost forgetting that you were in the middle of a stupid drinking game.
Flustered and marked with your love bite, Kakucho opened his eyes to very intrigued colleagues and a cute sight of you still sat on his lap. The rest of the game continued without a hitch, and the group moved on to other activities. But your memories of the enjoyable dare between you and Kakucho stayed with your minds long after the card game ended.
˗ˏˋ Ran and Rindou – do a body shot
They “come in a package” Ran said… It would only add to the entertainment of the game (and the person) if they both do the dare. So when they drew “body shots” with you, they instantly knew what to do. As a devout guest to their exuberant parties, you could say that this dare was customary for the three of you.
Ran and Rindou nodded, their expressions thrilled. They knew that this dare was going to be one they would never forget, but they were determined to get through it with as much dignity as possible being in their workplace.
You easily undid the straps of your shirt, revealing your bralette to the entirety of your colleagues in the room before making yourself comfortable on the couch. Takeomi approached with two shot glasses for each of the brothers. The cool glass makes contact with the skin in between your cleavage, then on your navel.
“Bottoms up,” He kindly spoke before letting the two executives scurry to you like pigeons. With a deep breath, both brothers prepared themselves for what was to come. They knew it would be potentially embarrassing, but they were determined to complete the dare and show their colleagues just how much fun they can have at the regular Haitanis parties.
Ran propped his legs on either side of yours, supporting his weight on your thigh, careful not to spill the shot glass on your Navel. Rindou was already flushed, his eyes half-lidded and his lips pursed in a drunken pout. "Do you mind?" he asked, his voice slightly breathless with anticipation. You nodded at him, knowing what he was asking without having to explain himself. As you tilted your head back, Rindou leaned in closer to the shit glass on your cleavage, his lips hovering near yours. The two of you were nearly nose-to-nose, and for a moment, it felt like you were suspended in time, ready to be kissed by Spider-Man himself.
“Shot!” Sanzu spoke and simultaneously, Ran and Rindou each took the glass with their teeth and leaned their head for a shot.
The warmth of the alcohol trickled down their throats, and a drop of the fiery liquid trickled down Ran's chin and onto your thigh. You couldn't help but let out a soft gasp, the tickle of it making you squirm. The three of you were all tangled together, united in a moment of pure hedonism. It was a sight to behold, one that both excited and humbled you at the same time. And as you looked from one to the other, feeling the warm glow of the alcohol spreading through your body, you knew that this was the main event of your evening, in the thick of the action, with these two wildcards.
And though the memory of that dare would always be a part of their recollection of the night, they were proud of themselves for pulling it off so gracefully and fun.
#tokyo revengers#bonten#sanzu haruchiyo#manjiro sano#kakucho hitto#ran haitani#rindou haitani#sanzu x reader#mikey x reader#manjiro x reader#kakucho x reader#ran x reader#ran haitani x reader#rindou x reader#rindou haitani x reader#sanzu akashi x reader#manjiro sano x reader#mikey sano x reader
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Okay so like I've been waiting for you to be back to just toss an idea at you: so imagine Lumi is going to Inazuma and instead of the payment the guards just decide to use her for stress relief instead. (Optional: have an Inazuma yan save her and use her themselves?) Also unrelated: I have not finished Fontaine yet but I feel you would appreciate some of the new characters are a brother and sister. Just thought you should know.
Honestly the most unrealistic part of the game is how no one ever makes advances on this girl.
Like, you’re telling me, you have various guards and law enforcement and high-ranks in various institutions that have this girl come begging for this or that with the whole, “I’ll do whatever you want just give me entry/a certain object/info etc” and every single one just gives us a fetch quest or a “beat these low level enemies” task? Not a single one uses the situation to their advantage? No one is exchanging anything for pussy? None?
It's not just guards, either. Treasure hoarders, eremites, the random fatui encounters… you can't tell me these groups of large-build, aggressive, often criminally-inclined men would see some girl walking alone by herself and not try something. And like, you can't do much elemental attacking if your arms and legs are completely restrained either. It would literally be so easy to overpower her with sheer numbers but alas, the game must remain general-audience-friendly (SIGH)
Organized groups like eremites and treasure hoarders in particular are always on the lookout for unfortunate girls traveling solo. Easy prey. And you can't catch them off-guard with powers, they're used to vision-holders, and the traveler isn't much different. Once they get your arms all bound up behind your back and your legs tied and connected by a tie behind your neck, you can just be picked up like a little bundle, or a communal fleshlight to get passed around the campfire circle at night.
#reminds me of those skyrm mods that would let you bribe guards to ignore your crimes but with puss instead of gold#q
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And they call me crazy (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only
Word Count: 5.8k
Warnings: SMUT, Rough sex, Non-con elements - reader is drunk and a (very eager to fuck) hostage, Light bondage, Oral, P in V, Unprotected sex, Edging, Canon typical mentions of murder and violence
Summary: You're a new intern at Senator Goff's office. It's going great... that is until Vigilante abducts you after you've been out drinking, celebrating the end of your first week. (Based on this ask from anon.)
A/N: I'm fucking impatient as usual and I couldn't wait until Sunday to post this. I've added non-con to the warnings but honestly, reader is so desperate to fuck him she DOESN'T GIVE AF if it's morally questionable that she's a hostage.
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Chapter text:
Your gasp is stifled when a black glove covers your mouth and an arm wraps tight around your body. You stumble on the sidewalk, teetering back in your high heels into your assailant’s body but he holds you firmly upright.
“Don’t scream,” says a man’s muffled whisper in your ear.
Your whole body freezes up. God, you wish you were more sober. Why did you insist on walking home after those celebratory drinks? This is not the perfect ending to the first week of your internship that you’d envisioned. Is this why Senator Goff didn’t turn up for work today? They said he was sick.
“I’m not gonna hurt you if you keep quiet and get in the car.”
It’s a man’s voice. Not one you recognise. But you can barely hear it anyway over how loudly your heart is beating in your chest. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, it seems to say, battering frantically against your rib cage.
“Nod if you understand me.”
You jerk your head forward - his tight grip doesn’t make the movement easy.
God, why didn’t you listen to your Mom? She told you earlier to get a cab home and stay safe, you’d just dismissed her advice as usual because you knew best.
He removes his hand and pushes you into the open passenger door of a beat-up old Chrysler Sebring. It all happens so fast that you don’t even think to check out the license plate.
Shit.
The man shuts the passenger door after you and hops into the driver’s seat on the other side.
It’s him.
You’ve seen his masked face on the news, wanted for carrying out his own brand of retributive justice on criminals across Evergreen. You heard people talking about his latest crimes at work today. Hell, you’ve even made stupid memes about having a crush on him in your girlfriend’s group chat.
It’s Vigilante.
You were ready to beg for your life a second ago. But now all you can do is stare. At the forefront of your admittedly inebriated mind is the fact that you’ve fantasised about the masked Vigilante of Evergreen before. But in your fantasies, you’d always been someone that he’d saved from a robbery gone wrong or some other sticky situation. Not his abductee.
And this is no fantasy. He’s here - he’s real. So intimidatingly tangible and human. You can hear his breathing through his mask, see his eyes darting around your dark surroundings checking for passersby, and you can even smell the sharp, fresh scent of his cologne when he gets close to you, reaching behind you to grab a length of rope from the back seat.
“Put your hands out.” You swallow thickly, looking at his masked face. There’s no point in arguing. “If you make any indication to anyone we pass that you’re you’re here against your will, I will kill you.”
“Listen, I don’t know what you think I’ve done but I-”
“Hey - don’t make me gag you and put you in the trunk,” he says, finishing the knot around your wrists as your stomach does a little flip. Not out of fear. Something else. He turns his keys and starts the ignition. “Oooh, seatbelt! Sorry.”
You breathe in as he reaches across you to grab your seatbelt and clip you in. Your hands sit uncomfortably on your lap as the car drives out of the dark street and onto the main road.
He pulls out his cell phone as he drives to wherever you’re going and you hear the other end of the phone ringing in the silent car.
“What is it?” You strain your ears, listening as a woman answers aggressively.
“I’ve got Goff’s assistant. I’m on my way to the video store.”
Goff’s assistant? That’s a stretch. You’re an intern. And not even Goff’s intern. You’re his assistant’s intern.
“I’m not-” you start but he cuts you off.
“Quiet!”
“What?!” says the woman on the phone.
“Sorry, Harcourt. Not you.”
“No, I mean you did what?! Vigilante, you need to run this shit by me. You can’t bring her here.”
“I did you a favour! We’re way ahead of schedule now.”
You hear the unidentified woman grumble. “We’ve got Judomaster here, dumbass. Take her someplace else.”
Goff’s funny little bodyguard. Now you know that Vigilante and the woman on the phone are responsible for Goff’s absence. Shit, what’s he going to do when he realises you know nothing?
“Where am I supposed to take her?”
“That’s what happens when you go rogue, idiot. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. She’s your problem tonight.”
You hear the line beeping as the woman hangs up.
“Fuck!” says Vigilante and he does a U-turn. “Hey, close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“I’m gonna have to take you to my place. I said close your eyes or-”
“Yeah, you’ll kill me. I got it,” you say resignedly. You close your eyes feeling the car turn left, straight for a while, right, left… you lose track. You have no idea where you are or how long it takes you to get there when finally you arrive at your destination.
You hear him get out of the car and still not daring to open your eyes, you feel the cool night air when the passenger door opens.
“Can I open my eyes?”
“Nope.”
You feel him reach over you to unclip your seatbelt and he hoists you out of the car by your upper arm. He roughly steers you across what you guess is a parking lot by the way your high heels click on the asphalt.
His vice-like grip on your arm still doesn’t relent, even when you reach the stairs.
“Not so fast - I can’t see!” And you’re still kind of drunk.
“Shh! Not here,” he whispers urgently. But his hold on you becomes more gentle as he helps you up the stairs, more slowly now. A sliver of empathy.
The sound of keys jingle as he unlocks a door and guides you inside. You hear him locking and bolting the door behind you. Great.
“Can I-”
“Yeah, you can open ‘em.”
You open your eyes. The small apartment is sparsely furnished, obviously decorated by a single man. No artwork on his walls, a small dining table, a clean but worn leather couch without even so much as a throw pillow.
The screech of wood on laminate makes your arm hair stand up as he pulls over a hard wooden chair into the middle of the living room.
“Sit.”
You do as you’re told. He pulls another chair over and sits down opposite you, leaning back, with his arm resting on the back of the chair. Vigilante’s intimidating form relaxes casually in front of you.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he tells you.
“I - do what the easy way?” You shift in your seat, squeezing your thighs together. What wouldn’t you want Vigilante to do you right now? Stop it, you scold yourself.
“You’ve got information and I need it.”
“I really don’t have any sort of information.”
He edges his seat closer to you, close enough that you can smell his cologne again. Fuck. “Hey, I get it. I was tortured for intel a few days ago and I didn’t crack either-”
“Torture?!” You panic now. “Look, I’m not lying - I’m not Goff’s assistant! If I knew anything I’d tell you.”
His eyes narrow behind the mask. He pulls out his phone, looking through it for something. “Shit.” Vigilante looks from his phone to you. “This isn’t you.” He holds up the screen and shows you a blurry picture of your boss walking out of the office. Sure you look alike - you have the same hair colour and both wear suits to work but she’s significantly older.
You shake your head.
“What were you doing coming out of the senator’s office?” He accuses, as if it’s your fault he’s kidnapped you.
“I’m an intern. It’s my first week.”
“So you work there? Right?” he asks desperately.
“I just get coffee and take notes, dude.”
He tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Oh man, Harcourt’s gonna freak out when I tell her I fucked up again. I can’t believe I picked up the wrong hostage.”
You sit, wrists still tied together in your lap staring at him. Now what? Maybe he’ll just drop you off outside the bar where the grabbed you.
“Look, we all make mistakes. It happens to the best of us. No harm done so-”
“Stop.” He looks up at you. “You know I can’t let you go.”
You take a deep breath and look at him silently for a few seconds. “So now what? Are you gonna kill me?”
“I-”
‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’
Vigilante looks at his phone, apparently confused that it isn’t the source of the music.
“It’s mine,” you sigh, embarrassed by your choice of ringtone. You try to pick your phone out of your suit pocket with tied wrists.
“Your ringtone is Barbie Girl?”
You nod.
He pauses, giving you an unreadable look from behind his mask before reaching into your suit pocket. “I can’t let you have this.” He declines the call. Your phone pings as a message arrives. “Someone called Melanie says ‘Your boyfriend is on the news again’,” he reads.
Fuck. Your best friend Melanie knows all about your stupid crush on the man sitting in front of you right now.
“Hey- don’t read my messages!”
“I need to know if your boyfriend is gonna come looking for you.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend, I swear. She’s just making a stupid joke.”
Your phone pings again. “She’s sent you a picture - what’s your passcode?”
“I said don’t read my messages. I’m not telling you my passcode.”
Vigilante sighs and turns your phone around to face you and your Face ID unlocks it. He freezes when he opens the image.
Oh, god.
He turns the phone back towards you again and you groan. Melanie has taken a picture of the news on her TV. Vigilante is on the screen. Shit.
“I told you, it was just a stupid joke,” you mumble, feeling your face turning scarlet.
“I didn’t realise you were a fan,” he says, and you can tell from the tone of his voice that he has a stupid grin under his mask.
“Well, I’m definitely not a fan right now.” You hold up your wrists.
“She can see you’ve opened it. What should I say back?”
“Hmm... say LOL…” He starts typing. “Call the police. I’m being held hostage.”
He deletes what he just typed and gives you a stern look. “Fine, I’ll just go through your messages and see what you said before.”
“No, wait! I was kidding!” You try to snatch the phone from his hands but his reflexes are too quick for your tied hands. He doesn’t have to scroll very far back through your messages to find what he’s looking for.
Vigilante laughs and starts reading aloud. “OMG, he is so fine… I’m just gonna say that again.” He sends the message and you hear the notification of Melanie responding almost immediately. He reads it aloud. “She says ‘Knew you’d appreciate it - wink emoji’.”
“Can you just kill me already?” you ask sarcastically.
He puts your phone in his pocket. “I’m not gonna kill you.”
“So what am I doing here then?”
“Waiting. For now.” You stare at each other for a few seconds. It’s hard not to feel like you’re in immediate danger. “Do you want a beer?”
Perhaps your life isn’t in danger.
You blink at him incredulously. He walks over to the refrigerator and returns with two beers. He opens yours and hands it to you.
“Can you untie me so I can drink it?” You ask, testing the waters.
“Are you gonna try and attack me and escape?”
You’ve never been in a fight in your entire life. There’s no way you’d be able to win in a physical altercation with him, not with his reputation for massacring criminal gangs.
“No.”
Vigilante looks you over, and you stare up at him, waiting for his assessment. “I could take you, anyway,” he says casually and puts down his beer on the coffee table so he can untie your wrists.
You feel yourself blushing again at his words. Vigilante could take you. He means in a fight. But your mind immediately thinks of him taking you in another way.
When he unties you, you rub your wrists, feeling the sweet relief of having them free again. Vigilante kicks back on the couch and gestures to the seat next to him. You move over and perch uncertainly on the cool leather. He lifts the bottle of beer, and then realising he’d need to remove his mask to drink it, puts it back down.
“You can take it off if you want,” you suggest.
“And let you see my face? No way. I have a secret identity.”
“Well, I bet you’re handsome under there.”
What are you doing?
The sensible voice at the back of your mind supposes that flirting with him might convince him to free you. Another slightly louder, drunker voice in your head suggests that flirting with him might convince him to fuck you.
He looks away, flustered. “I dunno about that...”
“That’s why you wear that mask, right? You’re probably so good-looking you’d be easy to spot in a line-up.”
He lifts the edge of his mask - you think for a second he’s about to reveal who he is but instead, he takes a long drink of beer. You watch his sharp jaw and exposed neck as he swallows and get a brief glance at his wet lips before he pulls the fabric back down over his face again.
“That mask doesn’t do you any favours, hiding a jawline like that.”
“Stop it, okay. I know what you’re doing.” You raise your eyebrows. “You think because you’re pretty, you can seduce me into letting you go. It’s not gonna work.”
Pretty.
You try not to smile, to keep your expression blank. You wish you could text Melanie - she’d lose her shit right now. But you’ve laid it on a bit too thick. Even though it is true - he does have a ridiculously nice lower half of his face.
“I’m just passing the time. Believe it or not, I’ve never been abducted before.” You shrug. “So what’s the plan? Stay here until your boss on the phone tells you to kill me in the morning?”
“She’s not my boss.”
“Sounds like she is.”
“I work alone. Mostly. Or with Peacemaker.”
“So let me go then. I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”
“It’s not that simple. I can’t just release a hostage.”
You think. Hard. “What if I could get you the information you need? Then I’m an accomplice. Not a hostage.”
“I thought you just got the coffee?”
“I know where my boss keeps her laptop. And her password.”
“What kind of boss tells a brand new intern her password?”
You purse your lips, wondering how much you can safely reveal to him. “She trusts me.”
“The way you want me to trust you?”
“It’s different… I just don’t want her to get kidnapped too.”
He tilts his head. “That could work.” He hesitates. “But I’ll need to double-check with Harcourt in the morning.” He spins his bottle of beer in his hands.
“I’ll give you the laptop’s location and password if you let me see your face.”
“Uh, no. You’re giving me the location and password in exchange for letting you go.”
“This is a hostage negotiation, right?” You give him a coy smile. “Let the hostage do some negotiating.”
“No way.” He lifts the bottom of his mask up again to take another drink.
“What if I suck your dick, will you show me your face?”
Vigilante chokes on his beer.
“Jeez! I’ve already told you that you can stop coming onto me. I’ve agreed to ask Harcourt to let you go.”
“I know. I’m just shooting my shot,” you smile, resting the beer bottle on your bottom lip. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
“Yeah, right.” He says though you can’t help but notice the way his visor-covered eyes linger on your lips.
“Dude, you saw my messages. I’ve always wanted to bump into Vigilante. Under different circumstances, obviously.”
This intrigues him. He turns in his seat, resting on the arm of the couch to face you. “Uh, what kind of circumstances?”
“Well, if you really want to know - they’re in my texts with Melanie.”
He looks at your phone again, opens your messages and starts scrolling up. His eyes widen as he pauses, reading. “Damn…”
“Which one are you reading?”
“There’s more than one?!” His voice is higher pitched this time and you grin. “Uh… ‘I wish we’d bumped into Vigilante when those guys were harassing us leaving the club last night. He would have kicked their asses and I would have-’... Holy shit.”
He adjusts himself in his seat and you can tell he’s hard just from reading your text exchange. You tilt your beer towards him encouragingly. “You can say it.”
“...‘I would have sucked the fucking soul from his body.’ Girls say this kind of shit to each other?”
You sip your drink and say nothing.
Vigilante looks at you like you’re a piece of cake he really, really shouldn’t be thinking about eating. “It would be morally wrong for me to sleep with a hostage.” He looks into your eyes.
You edge closer to him on the couch. “Accomplice, remember? I’m not a hostage if I work with you, right?”
“Listen, you are so hot. And if I met you in real life… fuck. It would be a different story.”
“This is real life.”
“You know what I mean.”
You get on your knees and crawl over to him between his legs. He shrinks back into the corner of the couch cushions. “C’mon. I won’t tell your boss.”
He swallows nervously. “You’re making it really hard for me to say no right now.”
You run your fingers over his belt. “Say you don’t want me to and I’ll stop.” Vigilante groans. You crawl forward again and press your forehead against his masked one, looking into his visor. “Tell me you don’t want me to suck your dick,” you whisper.
“Fuck…” He breathes. “And they call me crazy.”
“Maybe you should be more careful who you let in your car.”
His gloved hand grabs your wrist and for a second you think he’s going to make you stop but instead, he guides your hand onto the bulge through the fabric of his pants. Vigilante leans his head back, exposing a tiny glimpse of his neck between his mask and his suit. Your tongue finds the skin there, sliding across it and you feel him shiver underneath you.
It’s like he’s at your mercy now as you slowly, agonisingly slowly, undo his belt revealing the v-shape of his lower abdominal muscles covered in a smattering of brown hair. You slide your body down between his legs and kiss the trail of hair below his belly button while your hands work, unzipping his pants and pulling his boxers down.
Vigilante’s cock slaps his stomach when you release it from his boxers. Shit, you have a lot to work with. You’re already wet between your legs just from your conversation but the sight of him sprawled out in front of you - his entire body concealed with the exception of his hard cock - sends blood rushing to your pussy.
You lick your lips and the moment your tongue slides across his head, you feel his whole body tremble.
“Holy shit,” Vigilante whispers raggedly from behind his mask. He lifts his head to watch as his length disappears into your mouth, and you look up at him with wide eyes and hollow cheeks, sucking and running your tongue along the underside of his cock.
He grunts as you pull back to run your tongue slowly around his head again. His reaction makes your pussy ache with longing, thinking about how he’d sound with his mask off, moaning like that in your ear.
“Fuck, that’s it. Thaat’s it,” he says through gritted teeth as you find a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down. He threads his gloved hands through your hair - you think he’s going to start fucking your throat but you’re surprised when he doesn’t apply any force, letting you maintain your pace. Vigilante watches you on all fours, your ass in the air behind you as your mouth makes the wettest, sloppiest sucking sounds he’s ever heard.
Then he sees it. A glimpse of your hand under your tailored work skirt, confirming to him again that this isn’t just a ploy for early release. You’re really fucking turned on by being here, sucking his cock.
“Wait…” he whines, tugging gently at the base of your scalp. You pull back, replacing your mouth with your other hand so you can look at him. “Can I fuck you?”
You pull away and bite your lip, still pumping your hand up and down the length of his cock.
“You said you’d show me your face.” Time for your one last bargaining chip.
“I…” He hesitates, propping himself up on his elbows. “I can’t,” he pleads.
“You’ll have to cum here on your stomach then,” you grin, your wet fist picking up pace as he tenses his thighs and tries to stop his hips from jerking up into you. “If you show me your face I’ll let you cum inside me.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he groans. You stop jerking him off and watch him as he pulls his mask off, tossing it aside on the coffee table. He takes a pair of glasses out of his pocket and puts them on.
You stare at him in shock. You were mostly just teasing him earlier- you hadn’t actually expected him to be this good-looking. Sure, you knew from him drinking his beer earlier that he had a nice jawline. But even in your fantasies, he was faceless - he never had gorgeous green eyes and tousled curly hair.
“You’re hot?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. “What the fuck!?”
He smiles. And you can see it this time. It’s beautiful. He has dimples.
The intimidation you felt before when you first saw the masked killer in front of you is nothing compared to how you feel now. You practically melt, turning into putty. Feeling lightheaded you realise you’ve been holding your breath and begin making a conscious effort to breathe again. Seconds ago you were convinced he was at your mercy but now…
“Do whatever you want to me,” you say abruptly. Your underwear is flooded thinking that this man, this ridiculously beautiful killer wants to fuck you.
“Oh… I’m gonna.” He raises his eyebrows and lunges forward, pinning you to the couch and kissing your neck. His rough exterior armour digs into your chest. Your hands wander along his shoulders, trying to find the mechanism to unclip it. He feels your movements and pushes himself off of you so he can undo them himself.
You lie back, watching him remove his suit, revealing a host of white scars and purplish-yellow welts across his toned chest and abdomen. You undo the top two buttons of your blouse.
“Nuh-uh,” he says, tossing his under armour onto the floor. You let out a yelp of surprise when he grabs the opening of your shirt and rips it open, sending buttons scattering across his floor. He pushes your bra up, not bothering to take it off to suck on your tits.
You run your fingers through his curly hair, feeling him sloppily run his tongue over your nipple. His teeth clamp down on your breast - hard - and you squeal and yank his hair.
“Ow! Not so rough!”
He just gives you a mischievous smirk and you release your grip when he sucks the spot gently, in a sort of silent apology. It’s definitely going to leave a bruise tomorrow - a secret souvenir of your night with the masked man from the news all your friends know you have a crush on.
But Christ, what have you let yourself in for?
Vigilante moves down your body, kissing your stomach and pulling off your skirt and underwear in a single movement, throwing them haphazardly on the floor. You gasp when his mouth returns to your body and a soft, wet heat envelopes your pussy. He drags his tongue slowly, carefully along your slit.
“Oh fuck…” you whine, arching your back. “Vigilante, I- wait, fuck, what do I call you?”
“Vigilante,” he says between achingly slow licks. Every nerve ending seems to light up, sending blissful signals to your brain.
“No, I - I mean what’s your name?”
“Vigilante.”
God damn.
You look down and lock eyes with him, his pupils blown so wide his green eyes almost look black as he stares up at you, swirling his tongue in wide circles against your swollen clit. The entire lower half of your body tightens up and the walls of your pussy clench, desperate for something to squeeze around. His fingers, his cock - anything.
You reach down to find his large, gloved hand and tug at the fabric, trying to pull it off him.
He pulls his mouth back and removes his glove with his teeth.
“Is this what you want, baby?” He asks, running a single finger through your slick, wet folds and over your clit.
You nod.
“Beg for it.”
“Please, Vigilante.”
He sinks two fingers deep in your cunt.
“Is this what you fantasise about?” His questioning makes you tighten around his fingers as he draws them in and out of you. Your breathing quickens in time with his fingers pressing against that sweet spot deep inside your pelvis.
He stops abruptly and the whine that escapes you is pathetic.
“Answer me.”
“Y-yes,” you moan. “Every night.” You wriggle, trying to fuck yourself on his stationary fingers.
“Finger fucking yourself like this?” He curls his fingers up into you again.
“Mhmm.”
“Use your words.”
“Yes, fuck, just like… like this.” You bring your hand to your clit and start rubbing yourself in an obscene demonstration for him as he watches from his kneeling position, one hand between your thighs.
You’re close now, you can feel your orgasm burning up inside you as your cunt starts pulsing more consistently around his digits and your breathing gets heavier. Just as your release is about to crash over you, he withdraws his hand and grabs your wrist, moving your hand away from your clit.
“Wha-?” You pant dazedly. “I was just about to-”
“I know,” he smirks. “Not yet.”
Fuck. He’s fucking edging you.
His lips meet yours for the first time and you moan softly into his mouth. His tongue rolls against yours and you can still taste your sweet and salty juices on him.
Then, without warning, he flips you over and you gasp wordlessly face down on the leather couch in stunned silence. He pulls your hips back and up towards him.
“Fuck, Vigilante,” you choke, lifting your head up and arching your back, your brain working hard to regain awareness of its surroundings.
The weight of his body presses down on top of you as he leans down to whisper in your ear.
“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’re gonna forget my face in a line-up.”
Fuck.
He takes his cock and drags it over your soaking wet entrance, flushed and swollen for him and the broken sob that escapes you is desperate.
“Please,” you beg again. “Just let me cum.”
Vigilante sinks into you with a forceful jerk of his hips and your pussy seizes up tight around him as your face is forced onto the cold leather again. You try and push yourself up onto all fours.
“Nuh-uh, I like seeing you like this,” he says with another forceful thrust, knocking you off balance. “Hands behind your back.” You huff and do what he says, his still-gloved hand pinning your wrists behind you. “I shoulda just kept you tied up, huh?”
You can’t answer, you can’t move, you can’t do anything except just take him. Sparks of electricity reignite inside you, the deepest you’ve ever felt it as he pounds into you, hitting just that right spot again. You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder and when you see Vigilante biting his lip in concentration your walls start pulsing and squeezing around his cock.
“Not… yet.” He grunts. “Not ‘til I say.”
He pushes down on your wrists and it feels like all the air is being knocked from your lungs with every roll of his hips.
“Fuck, you’re such a… pretty… little… hostage,” he groans through gritted teeth, each thrust punctuated by his praise.
“Yes…” you whine because it’s all you can manage to say. It’s all you can think. That one singular confirmation repeating over and over again in your head - it’s all you want to be for him. Fuck, you’d happily spend the rest of your life locked in his apartment, letting him use you like this every time he came home after a night of murdering criminals.
Your eyes roll back in your head, fireworks rocketing and exploding into a million bright pieces. If there’s a heaven, it would look like this - a beaten-up leather couch in a shitty apartment in downtown Evergreen.
His other hand that’s free of his glove and not pinning you down reaches round and starts working your clit with rough, calloused fingertips. You squeeze your eyes shut, not realising they’ve been watering. Real tears leak from the corners, leaving your face a wet mess on the leather seat. You choke out a sob, not sure how much longer you can fight against your orgasm.
“Shh, shhh… it’s okay, baby. You can cum. Let it all out for me.”
And you do.
Everything goes dark and you’re lost in the pleasure that takes over your body, your climax wiping your mind blank of all thoughts except Vigilante. Your pussy clamps down hard like a vice around his cock as you squirm on his fingers. It’s only when you feel him shudder and collapse on top of you that you realise he’s come undone too.
You both lie there for a second, feeling the warmth of your combined mess leaking out and the sound of him panting, exhausted.
“Vigilante…” you say in a strained voice, breaking the silence.
“Yeah?” he exhales and takes another gulp of air.
“You’re crushing me.”
“Oh.” He hoists himself off of you. “Let me get you a towel.”
With difficulty, you sit back upright to wipe your eyes and fix your hair. Vigilante returns with a towel and you sit on it, grateful for the barrier between you and the wet, sticky couch cushion.
He throws himself back down beside you. “Whoo, I’m beat!” he says cheerfully. “What do you wanna do now?”
You look at him uncertainly and glance at your watch. “It’s one in the morning.”
“Right, cool. Do you wanna sleep on the couch or-”
‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’
Who’s phoning you this late?
He picks up both of your phones from the coffee table. “It’s mine,” he says and accepts the call. “Hello?”
Wait - his ringtone is Barbie Girl too?
“It’s me,” says the same voice of the woman who called him earlier. “Have you dealt with the hostage yet?”
Vigilante looks at you and hesitates. He swallows. “Yeah. It’s done.”
“So she accepted the bribe? You’ve got the laptop?”
His eyes widen. “The bribe? Oh! Yeah, sure! The bribe...”
“Vij, you didn’t kill her, did you?”
“What?” He lets out a maniacal laugh. “You’re crazy, Harcourt, of course I didn’t kill her. What’s the, uh, budget again?” He winks at you and makes an ‘ok’ sign with his thumb and forefinger. He’s insane, you think.
“I dunno, like five grand?”
“Phew! Then yes, it is all dealt with. Done and dusted. I will get that laptop.”
“You don’t have the laptop yet!? Vigilante, you need to get the laptop before you hand over the money, idiot.”
“Copy that,” he grins.
“Vigilante, what the f-”
He hangs up, cutting her off and tosses his phone aside.
“Good news. I can let you go once you give me the laptop.”
“And the five grand?” You raise your eyebrows.
“Wait, you heard that?!”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Well not until you give me the laptop.”
“I can get it tonight if you need it? We just need to swing by my boss’s house before you drop me off.”
He frowns. “Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. I need to… need to take you home.”
You tilt your head to one side and look at him fondly. You fix his messy curls and he closes his eyes at your touch. “Or… I could stay here tonight? Pick up the laptop tomorrow morning once you’ve fixed me some breakfast?”
He perks up. “I could do that! …You’re one hundred per cent sure you can get it though, right?”
You sigh and extend your hand. “Give me my phone.” He does and watches you go through your contacts.
The line rings and a familiar but slightly croaky voice answers.
“Honey, it’s one in the morning. Is everything alright? Did you get home okay?”
“Hey Mom, I’m fine. Listen, I think I forgot to send an email before I left the office and I can’t sleep worrying about it. Can I pick up your laptop first thing tomorrow?”
She yawns. “Sure thing. Don’t get stressed about it. Just go get some sleep.”
“Thanks, boss. I love you.”
“Goodnight sweetie. I love you too.”
You grin as Vigilante gapes at you.
“Goff’s assistant… she’s your-?”
“Yup. Now c’mon, show me where your bedroom is.” You stand up and reach your hands out, waiting for him to guide you. You step on one of your shirt buttons as he leads you towards the hallway. “You owe me a new shirt, by the way.”
“I just made you five grand. Use that to buy a new shirt,” he says, opening the bedroom door.
“Hey, what happened to the hostage negotiation? These are the terms of my release.”
“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” he smirks, shutting the door behind you.
#vigilante x reader#vigilante#adrian chase x reader#vigilante peacemaker#adrian chase#vigilante x you#freddie stroma#fanfic#peacemaker#vigilante x female reader#adrian chase x female reader#adrian chase x you#adrian chase imagines#adrian chase x y/n
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October 23rd
Deepthroating & Facesitting, Mary Goore x Reader
Masterlist
Words: 2.9k
Warnings: Deepthroating; skull fucking; face sitting; public; exhibitionism; sex in a cemetery; cunnilingus; fingering; fellatio; vaginal sex; piv; unprotected sex; fear play; biting; elements of dubcon but not really dubcon; rough sex; praise kink; degradation kink (you know the drill by now); hair pulling; watersports;
Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog
🔞 MDNI 🔞
As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.
In the quiet, serene, and solemn embrace of the mist-laden morning, you walked hand in hand with Mary and ventured into the ancient, moss-covered graveyard - a morning tradition that spun the entire length of October. The misty air shrouded the weathered, weather-beaten tombstones, creating an eerie, mystical atmosphere. Tall, gnarled trees with their twisted, skeletal branches cast long, haunting shadows on the hallowed ground below. Your steps echo softly on the cobblestone path, leading you deeper into the melancholic, hauntingly beautiful cemetery.
It was always silent this early in the morning, even the birds were still asleep as your footsteps tracked through the frost-bitten grass and chilly gravel beneath you. Every snap of a twig in the distance had your heart pounding with worry and Mary’s throat to come alive with a chuckle. This was the perfect scene for a horror movie: two lovers exploring a place they shouldn’t be getting picked off individually by a mysterious stranger using the mist as a cloak. Mary would be the first to go; and you’d find him battered and bruised but alive, only to watch him suffer and perish at the hands of a monster.
A crypt sat in one of the corners of the cemetery, proud yet ominous with its intimidating Gothic arched door and stone walls. The glass windows were dirty with decades - if not centuries - of dirt, and the heavy, mahogany door, weather-damaged and rotting, was locked tightly shut by a rusted chain and lock. The crypt once belonged to the town’s founding father, the wealthiest family in the cemetery. For as long as you’d known him, Mary had been desperate to get inside to piss on the richest coffin around but he’d always been unsuccessful. Today, though, he wanted to try again.
You watched him rattle the door, hands wrapped firmly around the rusted handles and tug on it, trying to shift it even a little but to no avail. “I’m gonna go check the back,” he announced, “wait right here.”
“Mary, can’t we just carry on and enjoy the place while we still have it?”
“Babe, if we can get in there, just think of what I could do to you.” He winked and placed a kiss to your forehead. “Stay here. I’ll come back and get you.”
You don’t know why you did as he asked you to. You weren’t scared per se, the silence of the cemetery filled you with nothing but peace and you felt safe in the knowledge that most of the surrounding residents were still tucked up in bed as the sun was beginning to rise. But you were still exceptionally cautious, knowing that it was all the normal people who were in bed. The crazies were up and wandering as you stood there: the drug addicts, the dunkards, the criminals who operated under the shadow of the night were also out and about, making their way home after a night of who-knows-what. Ghosts didn’t scare you. The dead didn’t make you afraid - but the living did.
You tried to peak into the crypt, wiping some of the dirt with your index finger but realising it was pointless when you saw the layer that had swiped off onto your hand. You weren’t even sure what you were trying to see, perhaps you were just looking for something to do. But your concentration turned out to be a detriment to you, and the reason why what happened next occurred.
All you heard were two heavy footsteps thumping quickly on the dead leaves surrounding the crypt before hands came and gripped your body, the force of it causing you to drop your bag to the floor. A weight pushed you further into the stone walls and pinning you against them, one of those hands gripped onto your hip, the other came up to your mouth to silence you. A whimper escaped you, muffled by the cold hand of the person behind you - a whimper of fear, certainly, but there was an element of arousal in it too.
“You looked so delicious standing there alone and scared.” Mary’s voice sounded in your ear, so low it was almost a growl. “You looked so fuckin’ vulnerable. Easy pickings.” He pressed his body further into yours and you could feel his cock, rock solid but restrained in his jeans. “I can’t wait until we get home, baby girl. I’m taking you now whether you like it or not.”
His hand that was on your hip began groping whatever body part it could find. At first, he grasped hold of your ass cheek and firmly held it, but then he moved higher and higher until he was groping your breast, rough with his touches and squeezing you as he pleased. His mouth, now silent, moved closer to your ear and trapped the sensitive appendage between his teeth, nibbling and biting a little harder than usual. He released your mouth from his hand knowing that you wouldn’t let out an unwanted scream, and used that hand to fiddle with your clothes, pulling your skirt up to give him access to your panties. “Thank fuck you’re wearing a skirt today, baby.” He commented as he rutted himself into you, seeking desperate pleasure from your body.
Your panties were quite literally ripped off your hips - the sound of the fabric tearing filling up the surrounding cemetery and making you gasp at the force he’d used. Once you were bare for him, he gripped onto your shoulders, turned you round and pushed you to your knees. His hands came to work at his jeans, undoing them and freeing himself from them. “When you need to tap out, what do you do?”
“Tap you three times.”
“Good fucking girl. Now, open up for me.”
You braced yourself for impact, knowing that the mood he was in meant you were in for a rough but exciting ride; and of course you were right. He fed you his cock, inch by inch, ignoring your gag reflex and any uncomfortabilities you may have had and forced his way down your throat, groaning at the sensation of your tight, wet heat enveloping him. His hand flew to your head, fingers tangling in your hair as his mouth opened and he exhaled slowly, the subsequent intake sounding like a hiss. The first few thrusts were merciful, gentle, kind, tentative, enough to get you used to feeling his sizable length stuffed down your windpipe. But after that he became demonic.
His thrusts were nearly violent with how sharply he moved. His hand held your head as still as it possibly could be, trapping you where you knelt and using your face like his own personal fucktoy. It was his hand doing most of the guiding, pulling your head back and forth by your hair. He tipped his head back and let his mouth fall wide open. “Oh, fuck!” He growled. Every time you gagged around him, he chuckled at you. He found it amusing to hear you struggling to take him every time he shoved himself down your throat, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t commit those sounds to his memory and used them when you weren’t around.
He pulled your head off of him completely and let you catch your breath, laughing a little at you gasping for air and refilling your lungs as much as you could before his second onslaught. You also took this opportunity to fill your mouth with as much saliva as you could, knowing that Mary preferred a sloppier feel. He loved it when you got filthy, when your own spit would drip down your face and hang off your chin like a cheesy porno. You took this opportunity to use your hands and jerk him off a little, but eventually he grew tired and slapped your hand away. You took him back in your mouth and readied yourself for round two.
This time, he gathered all your hair into a ponytail and used that to pull you back and forth, slamming himself down your throat despite the gags and groans you made. Your nose repeatedly hit his well-groomed pubic mound, kept nice and neat for this very purpose. “That’s it.” He praised through gritted teeth. “Take it all down your fucking throat. Such a slut. Letting yourself get face-fucked in the middle of a fuckin’ cemetery. Fucking hell. Your throat is incredible. I don’t do this enough. Shit!” He bit his lip and groaned when you looked up at him, tears in your eyes from the exertion. The doe-eyed look you often gave him drove him insane, his own corruption kink coming to the forefront and losing himself in the thought of soiling something so pristine as you. Of course, you were just as filthy as he was, but you certainly didn’t look it.
“What’s this?” He asked, his eyes now fixated on your hands. While he’d been fucking your throat, you decided that it was too much to bear and dipped your hands under the hem of your skirt giving yourself the sweet relief you’d been craving since he pinned you against the walls of the crypt. “The little whore likes being face-fucked in a cemetery?” He tugged you off his cock and you stopped playing with yourself. “No, keep going! Don’t let me stop you slutting yourself out in public. You want my mouth, baby girl?”
You nodded.
He jerked your head back again by your hair. “Ah, ah. Tell me.”
“Yes! I want your mouth!”
“Aw,” he cooed, “desperate little slut. On your back for me.”
He guided you to lie on your back, and lifted your skirt, staring at your cunt that was now glistening from the slick of your arousal. You could feel the wet, morning dew from the grass seeping through into your clothes as you lay there, but that just turned you on even more to know he had you lying on the cold ground so he could take what he wanted from you. You wanted him just as badly as he wanted you. He stared down his nose at you, a somewhat evil grin on his face. He was about to make you suffer and you were so excited for it.
He moved to your head and lowered himself down so he was hovering above your mouth. “Open wide again, baby.” He told you. When you obeyed, he fed himself into your throat once more, but this time he’d leaned forward and took your cunt into his mouth, too, his cock brutally riding your face and taking his own pleasure from you.
Your hips bucked as much as they could from being pinned down by Mary’s entire weight on top of you as his lips quickly encircled your clit and started sucking as hard as they could. The tip of his tongue moved wildly, working different parts of your clit in different directions while he kept his mouth shut around you. His ministrations were intense and rough as he worked to get you to orgasm as quickly as he could, moving his head in all directions and sucking on your tender bud to keep the onslaught going. He was everywhere all at once - you could feel him everywhere. Mind clouded with nothing but him, scent, sight, taste. even his grunts and groans filled your ears more than the wind rustling the trees in the distance.
He continued in this manner constantly, ruthlessly pushing you ever-closer to the edge. Until his unrelenting motions caused your nails to dig into his bare ass as a warning you were about to cum. And so, reluctantly, he pulled himself out of your throat and continued his ministrations until you were cumming, loudly, around his tongue. Your eyes were screwed tightly shut as you came, teeth digging into your bottom lip to curb some of that volume as you screamed out for him. Your nails continued to grip onto his flesh as the entire world went black for just a brief moment, and eventually, when it was fine for him to do so, he released you from his mouth and climbed off you.
He seemed just as out of breath as you were, but he hadn’t cum yet, and therefore he certainly wasn’t finished with you. “Hands and knees,” he ordered, “ass in the air.”
Your back was hit with a wall of cold air as the damp cloth was exposed to the autumnal morning breeze. You spread yourself out for him, elbows to the ground and ass in the air, ready to receive whatever he would give you next.
He didn’t wait for your cunt to get used to his size; instead, he grabbed your hips and thrust all the way to the end. “Take that fucking cock.”
He started working right away, snapping his hips against yours quickly and hitting your cervix which made you scream every time. “Fuck, Mary!” You yelled.
Mary always felt wonderful inside of you because he was long and slender, stretching you out beautifully. By the time he was finished with you, you were typically a shaking, aching mess on the bed, unable to even think or breathe.
Your ass jiggled more than usual as you arched your back for him once more and moved your hips to meet his thrusts. He let out a string of profanities, each one reminding you of how much of a whore you were to him and how tight your pussy felt around him, how you got tighter every time a branch snapped in the distance or a solitary car drove by. How you got off knowing that someone could catch you getting fucked by your partner in one of the most wildly inappropriate places to ever exist.
He reached forward and grabbed your hair, pulling it once more by the roots to gain leverage and allow himself to bury deep inside of you over and over again.
Your hand reached down to play with your clit once more, fervently rubbing yourself in time with his rough thrusts to try and tip you over the edge.
“Fucking shit, always so tight for me.” He saw your pussy cream accumulating at the base of his cock and let out another growl. You felt so fucking good, and you were getting tighter and tighter by the second. “Baby,” he said, “I know we couldn’t get in there for me to piss on his coffin, but there’s another monument I could.”
You raised your eyebrows, and he didn’t miss the way your hand sped up at the thought. “O-on me?” You asked.
“Can I?”
“Fuck. Mary, do it.”
“Yeah? Move that fucking hand so I can piss on that filthy cunt of yours.”
You did as you were told and shuddered at the feeling of Mary pulling out of you, your hole twitching at the sudden emptiness and screaming for stimulation. You couldn’t see what Mary was doing behind you, but oh fuck did you feel it. It was a slow trickle at first but when the stream built up, and was angled right, it hit your clit perfectly just like the head of your shower did. The constant stream, however short it actually lasted, felt like it went on forever as it continuously hit that perfect spot, making your eyes roll back into your head. It took just a little more time and suddenly you were diving headfirst into another orgasm, the sensitivity of your first and the violent pounding of Mary’s cock beforehand leading you into a powerful second one. Mary’s fingers replaced his piss to finish you off, rubbing roughly to keep you frozen and cumming as hard as possible.
He could barely wait until you’d stopped convulsing, and shoved himself back inside you as soon as he could. “Filthy slut,” he chastised, hands gripping onto your hips as he pushed you flush to the ground and took what he wanted. His left hand was still wet from his piss and your cum, and you could feel it on your skin. “Can’t believe you just came from me pissing on you. What a depraved, cock-hungry little whore - so desperate to cum she’ll let me do anything to her.” Your hands dug into the hallowed soil, gripping tightly to ground you as he got rougher and rougher, slamming against your cervix each time and forcing you to cry out. “I’ll piss in your mouth next time. You want that, hm?”
“Yes! Fucking hell! Mary!” You didn’t care how loud you were, and neither did he.
“Or maybe I’ll piss inside your cunt next time, and punish you if any slips out - oh fuck - c-cumming!”
He let out a deep and gutteral groan as he came inside you, hips stilling to a halt and emptying his balls as deep as he possibly could. All his weight was on you, trapping you between him and the graveyard’s soil. Your own pubic mound resting in the puddle of piss that had formed underneath you both the more he pushed you down and held you still. He thrust tentatively, making sure you took every last drop of him. He let himself fall forward, and kissed your shoulder tenderly as if he hadn’t just beat up your pussy and abused you like a madman.
“Fucking hell that was the hottest thing we’ve ever done.” You said as you both were catching your breaths.
He grunted in agreement, still kissing your clothed shoulder and moving up to nibble and lick at your ear. “We’d better get you in the shower, eh?”
“Check my bag, there should be some tissues in there.”
He pulled out of you, both of you wincing at the loss again, and when he returned, he made sure to gently clean you as best as he could. But he’d make sure he’d clean you up properly when you both took a shower at home.
Previous Day ⛧ Next Day
#mel writes#kinktober#kinktober 2023#ghost kinktober#the band ghost#ghost#ghost bc#ghost band#ghost the band#ghost fan fiction#ghost fanfic#ghost fandom#ghost fanfiction#the band ghost fanfiction#repugnant#repugnant band#repugnant fan fiction#repugnant fanfic#repugnant fanfiction#mary goore#mary goore x reader#mary goore x reader smut#mary goore smut#mary goore fanfiction
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Sony's PlayStation 5 Presents Insomniac's Marvel's Spider-Man 2 (the third game in the series)
I beat the main story and have enjoyed my time with the game overall! I want to talk about spoilers and things that I liked and disliked in the story, so here's a post with some scattered thoughts.
(Hello! I haven't forgotten that this blog exists! Like I said, no update schedule, I will read more of the Lee/Ditko comics whenever I make time for it. I've actually been sitting on a mostly-complete version of this post since I beat the game in October, thinking that I'd finish the rest of the side quests so I could throw in thoughts on those. But... eh, I'll do that whenever the inevitable DLC rolls around. I just wanna get these thoughts posted.)
Spider-Cop No More
First off: they downplayed the cop shit!!! This was the first thing that really struck me about the game, and I'm stunned that they actually listened to criticism on this. I thought we'd just be stuck with it forever.
It'll never be completely gone, of course. Spider-Man is always going to leave criminals webbed up for the police to take to prison, hoping that they'll do their time and come out the other side as Productive Members of Society. That's just a thing I begrudgingly accept as part of the genre that will probably never go away. But Spider-Man is no longer repairing police surveillance networks. You're no longer beating the shit out of random drug dealers. Gangs of escaped convicts still wearing their orange jumpsuits are no longer terrorizing the streets of New York.
Instead, Peter and Miles are played more as firefighters. Sometimes very literally! They work with firefighters, they rescue people from collapsing buildings, they rush injured people to the hospital. In general there's a huge increase in the number of random onlookers present during the big action setpieces, and the Spider-Men frequently have to save them from harm. One of the major side quest lines is even literally about a cult of arsonists, and you'll routinely find burning fuel tanker trucks you have to extinguish with your webs. It's great! Love this for them.
I also generally liked the side missions in this. There's a lot of good stuff with the Spider-Men being neighborhood heroes willing to help out anyone in need, no matter the problem. Some of them can get corny, sure, but that street level stuff has always been the real heart of Spider-Man to me.
Gameplay
The gameplay's as fun as ever. That probably goes without saying. I will not be spending a thousand words explaining that swinging is fun.
In particular, I really liked the changes to the Focus mechanic. I never loved the way Miles' game made you choose between healing and doing your special attacks, but here your four specials have their own cooldowns, and the Focus meter is spent on either healing or finishers. It still offers that risk/reward element, but those vicious cycles where you can't do any real damage because you keep needing to heal aren't nearly as bad as they were before.
Personally I didn't turn off the swing assist or turn on fall damage, because the streamlined swinging never bothered me in these games, but I'm glad the options are there for people who want them.
Kraven
I liked Kraven in this! I liked the way they leaned into his Hunters being this weird death cult, and him wanting to go down in a blaze of glory against a worthy foe, to the point that he's actually disappointed anytime a foe can't kill him. It riffs on things people liked in Kraven's Last Hunt without being the exact same story. I like that Kraven's gang is renting out this manor or whatever and just being a complete terror to the wait staff. I liked the way Kraven hunting Peter's rogues' gallery clashed with Peter's belief in giving his villains second chances. I liked that they were willing to have Kraven kill off a couple of the minor villains from the first game to sell how dangerous he is. (I know some people hated this, but like, come on. We already fought the Sinister Six. They don't need to do that again.) I like the way Kraven pushed Peter to the absolute brink, turning him more and more aggressive with the Black Suit. Good stuff all around, even if the Hunter enemy types did wear out their welcome a little bit by the end.
The Black Suit arc
I think I liked the way Insomniac handled Peter's Black Suit arc overall, but there's a tradeoff here.
They REALLY lean into the body horror tentacle stuff, with Black Suit Peter basically just being a skinny Venom by the end. The sequence where you play as Mary Jane while the symbiote puppets an unconscious Peter's body around and goes on a rampage against the Hunters was REALLY great at selling how scary Peter is becoming, and it made me completely change my tune on the inclusion of the MJ stealth missions in the sequel. Having to beat an out-of-control Peter as Miles immediately after Peter beats Kraven was also really good. This is all cool!
BUT, the thing is... with the symbiote powers being so freaky from the start, it really pushes my suspension of disbelief when Peter and co. take so long to become wary of it. I guess when you've been bitten by a radioactive spider and given superpowers, and when you live in the same universe as the Avengers and the X-Men, your perception of what's "normal" is going to be pretty warped. But they buy the whole "organic exosuit created to treat Harry's illness" story WAY too easily lmao. How do the self-aware slime tentacles help with his illness, exactly?
And I'm not sure how I feel about giving Peter Anti-Venom powers in the last act. It feels like it's primarily a concession so that they can give players that branch of their skill tree back, but honestly, the designer in me thinks it would be really cool (if risky) to just permanently lock players out of Peter's most powerful skills past a certain point. Yeah, it'd definitely piss people off, but it drives home the idea that Peter's given up greater power because it's the right thing to do. It'd put you in his shoes! Instead he just gets the symbiote powers back, but it's fine because the Venom voice in his head is gone and also the slime tendrils that explode out of his body are white now, which means they're good.
I have to say it. I'm sorry. The glistening white goo... they turned Peter into the Amazing Cum-Man. I changed back to the Classic Suit after rolling the credits and forgot I still had the Anti-Venom skills equipped, so I just saw regular old Spider-Man exploding his white goo everywhere. Terrible.
Assuming Peter is just stepping into more of a supporting role to Miles and not fully retiring after the events of this game, I really hope the Anti-Venom stuff is gone. I get that he needed it to counter Venom, but that's not what I want for Peter Parker.
Miles
Miles is good in this, and I really like his arc where he struggles with whether or not he should avenge his dad by killing Martin Li. I like how all that plays out. Unfortunately, they don't quite stick the landing when it comes to making him and Peter feel like equals in terms of narrative focus. His arc is definitely the B-plot to Peter's for the middle chunk of the story, which I guess was kind of inevitable since they decided to do the Black Suit arc. But Miles does at least get a lot of moments to shine, and by the end he's very much taking the lead as the main Spider-Man.
Becoming the main Spider-Man also gets Miles a new, wholly original suit that ended up being super controversial, and honestly... I kinda like it? Or at least I like what it's going for, even if the actual design could still use some work. It's something totally unique for Miles, and I like spandex/streetwear combo suits like what the Spider-Verse movies have popularized. But showing his hair is really pushing the limits of his secret identity. He hangs around Brooklyn Visions WAY too much for his classmates to not recognize his voice and haircut. And I understand why people would be wary about it becoming his "canon" look moving forward. But I think it's got potential.
On the subject of Miles, though, I will say that while I liked Miles' side missions, it feels like he's often saddled with the game's broad, kinda touristy, kinda token attempts at Showcasing The Diversity Of New York, in a way that Peter isn't.
I like that Miles has a deaf graffiti artist girlfriend that he and Ganke sign with, and I like that there's a series of side missions that explore some local jazz history, and I like that there's a mission where Miles helps a gay classmate ask his crush to prom. I like all these things! I like Spider-Man being involved with his community, and that said community includes such a wide variety of people! I like that this game slows down to savor these types of moments instead of just being all action all the time! But when I step back, I notice some patterns.
Hailey doesn't have a big role in the main plot, especially when compared to MJ, but Miles gets a side mission where you briefly play as her with muffled audio to teach you what being deaf is like. There are no major queer characters in the story - unless you count Felicia showing up for exactly one mission to mention she has an unseen, unnamed girlfriend in Paris now - but you get a side mission where Miles helps out a gay couple at his school, who then never come up again. To put it very uncharitably, they can feel like Very Special Episode missions. It's like the devs going: we're going to give Miles a Gay Mission, and an Impaired Hearing Mission, and a Cultural History Mission, so that we can say we touched on these things, but we're gonna make them all optional and keep them far away from the full-blown Superhero Stuff like fighting costumed villains. Those flavors cannot mix. Meanwhile, Peter gets to have a whole elaborate subplot about teaming up with Wraith to track down fucking Cletus Kasady. There's an imbalance here, and I think it's part of the reason why Peter still feels like the "main" Spider-Man for so much of the story.
I think this was all written with admirable intentions, but as others have pointed out, you can kinda tell that this game was mainly written by some white guys based in California. These attempts at depicting various marginalized groups can feel kind of detached in the same way that Insomniac's map of New York doesn't quite line up with the real thing. But I dunno. I'm not really the one to dig deep into some of this stuff as a white woman from Florida. I would be curious to read others' takes on this.
Maybe I'm just being overly cynical about the writers' well-meaning but corny and kinda out of touch liberal politics because of the podcasts.
The podcasters
I wish Jameson was in this more! They psyched us out by giving him a full character model for, like, two scenes. I like him being MJ's boss, but I wish we saw inside the Daily Bugle offices to get more Jameson.
At least his podcasts are better than the ones in the Miles game, though. Him completely trusting in Roxxon was just too much for me. Here he condemns Oscorp for the symbiote shit, and he also gets some moments where he takes the ongoing crises seriously and isn't just ranting about the Spider-Men. He isn't just a conspiracy theorist crackpot here. Shit like his "fuck Spider-Man, we have a justice system for a reason" speech makes him feel more like a human being with a point of view, rather than just a caricature. Definitely an improvement.
Unfortunately, I still find The Danikast grating. I'm sorry, Ashly Burch. It's not your fault. The quirky heckin' wholesome millennial podcaster lady who catches you up on current events and then reminds you to drink 64 ounces of water a day in the same breath is just too much for me. At least she doesn't have any lines as bad as her throwing in a "damn" and then going (direct quote here) "That's right - no censoring! That's how REAL I'm being right now!" like in Miles' game. Instead they give her this, like, almost psychic insight into the main plot to try and make her the angel on Peter's shoulder. The second Peter gets the symbiote she's like "Wow, y'all. Have you seen Spider-Man's new black suit? Something's different about him. He's been giving me such bad vibes lately. #NotMySpiderMan" Also she's supposed to be this, like, underdog independent podcaster who started her show on a whim and has become the voice of the people... but she's got billboards plastered all over the fucking city. Which makes her feel like an industry plant lmao
Again, there's a detachment with the writing. This is, like, some middle aged white liberal game dev guys' idea of what a modern leftist teenager would think is a Cool Activism Podcast. Unfortunately, because Insomniac thinks Danika's a hero, Mary Jane's triumphant ending is that she quits her job at the Bugle to become a podcaster, too, delivering a thinly veiled monologue about the pandemic to kick off her new podcast literally titled "The New Normal." She's going to save the world with podcasting, because that's the highest form of activism, I guess.
Venom
So! Venom! Venom was... okay.
Surprising no one, Harry Osborn is Venom. Harry's okay both as himself and as Venom, but I'm not sure his arc is a smooth one. He starts out as Peter's comically perfect best friend who returns to reminisce about the good ol' days and hand him his dream job on a silver platter, and then later he becomes a little ball of rage over the fact that Peter gets his symbiote and can't/won't give it back. I'm not sure that pivot is handled the most convincingly. You kind of have to write it off as the symbiote messing with their heads, I guess.
When he actually becomes Venom, I'm... mixed on the execution. On the one hand, the cool factor is absolutely there. He's a very cool big monster, and Tony Todd is great in the role. But he also wants to take over the world and make everyone a symbiote, and aside from any lingering resentment towards Peter, that's really all there is to him. It makes for a good video game to have a bunch of symbiote enemies and creepy symbiote nests and symbiote tentacles climbing up the sides of buildings in the last act... but is that really what I want out of Venom? Probably not. But he sure does look cool as a big monster guy to fight, and I was happy he was briefly playable.
Suits
Part of me feels like there's something lacking about the suit selection here, but almost every suit I liked in the previous games is back, and also I'm the type of person to give Peter the Classic Suit the second I unlock it and use that for most of the game. So does it really matter for me?
Peter's selection feels dominated by the various live action movie suits, but I get that those are going to be some of the suits people want to wear the most. I wish he had the Peter B. Parker skin to go with Miles' Spider-Verse alts, though. No idea why it's missing. Really I think I mainly just want more of the Spider-Verse designs.
Also I've complained about how most of the original suits designed for these games make Peter and Miles look like they were bitten by radioactive Alienware products, but I can just, you know. Wear other suits.
Misc thoughts
Everyone's already made this joke, but it's extremely funny that the Avengers didn't help with the symbiote invasion. Took one look at that and decided it wasn't their problem
On the subject of other superheroes, I do wish these games would acknowledge the Fantastic Four more. Peter's close relationship with that team feels woefully underutilized in his various adaptations
I like the trope of a boss fight that's a heightened version of a personal conflict between two people who are close, where throughout the fight the boss is airing out their grievances while the hero tries to get through to them emotionally. That especially works for Spider-Man! But WOW has Insomniac played that card a lot of times by the end of Spider-Man 2 lol
They're teasing the addition of Silk, I guess? I'm gonna be honest, I don't know shit about Silk, but I guess it was inevitable that they'd give us some form of Spider-Woman at some point. Gotta work all those costumes in somehow, and they're not brave enough to let one of the boys cosplay as Spider-Gwen.
They WERE, however, brave enough to let Harry say he loves Peter. I liked that little moment. They presumably meant it platonically, but clearly ol' Yaoi Lowenthal knows what's up
Post-leak addendum
So, obviously, by the time I got around to finishing this post the big Insomniac leak happened. I wish the game industry wasn't so secretive that it took a massive, dangerous data breach just to get our hands on some very basic info that would be public knowledge if Insomniac was a film studio, but here we are.
We now know that Insomniac spent somewhere around $315 million making Spider-Man 2 - triple what the first Spider-Man game cost to make. A quote about this from a leaked presentation has been stuck in my head ever since I first saw it on Twitter. “Is 3x the investment in [Spider-Man 2] evident to anyone who plays the game?”
To be honest, I'm not sure it is.
I liked Spider-Man 2, but I'd probably say that overall I liked it about as much as the first game. It's certainly a somewhat bigger game, with marginally more realistic looking graphics thanks to the power of the PS5. But I think I could do without ray tracing and more realistic hair rendering and whatnot if it meant that these games didn't take like five years and hundreds of millions of dollars to make. I could not give less of a shit if the swinging animations were recycled between games. I'd be fine with them being shorter, too.
I like these games, but as we look at that leaked project lineup and realize that Insomniac is turning into The Marvel Game Studio, I think about how many smaller, more original games that those resources could go towards if they scaled back the Marvel stuff just a bit. How many Ape Escapes or Patapons or Gravity Rushes could get made for the budget of just one of these massive AAA tentpole games of Sony's, which are apparently barely even breaking even? How many could be made for the budget of the "smaller, cheaper" Miles Morales game, which somehow cost $156 million to make despite using an updated version of the same Manhattan map from the first game? Hell, how many smaller games could have been made with the $39 million that went into remastering the first Spider-Man game for PS5 a mere two years after launch? How many people will lose their jobs if any one of Insomniac's upcoming Marvel games underperforms - which, in this case, could mean selling "only" 5 million copies? And would hardcore PlayStation fans even accept those smaller games at this point, now that they've been trained to only appreciate mega-budget Prestige Games with cutting edge graphics and treat everything else with disdain? How much worse will this get as the graphical arms race continues?
I think I just miss Japan Studio. Fuck Sony. Uhh but anyway the Spider-Man game this post was supposed to be about was good, some writing complaints aside. 8/10
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The Wrong One 2
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: Raymond Smith
Summary: You get caught up in the double lives of your employers.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
The men leave you as the last of the sedation wears off. You languish as the worst possibilities swim through your head. You don’t know what’s going on but you know they’re dangerous. This is the sort of mix-up you can’t just laugh off. It’s not like you got the wrong drink at the cafe, this is very, very real.
You curl your fingers, only halfway as the numbness creeps up each digit. You shift in the chair, your tailbone aching from the barely cushioned seat. Your knees are no better your bound ankles keep them at an awkward bend.
You lean your head back and groan. Your efforts to breathe out the shadow of panic only sparks it. You feel a sudden surge of terror. You’re going to die here. All because those men made the wrong choice.
No! What did they even want with Mrs. Malfort? How on earth could she be mixed up with the likes of them? She’s tall and pretty and sophisticated. Her hair is always just so and her outfits are always carefully coordinated. Her and her husband are the very picture of upper class. These men are criminals at best.
You sit up sharply, the chair rocking. You lean forward, pulling against it. The frame creaks. Could you…
You push back again and swing forward. This is stupid. What are you doing? Even if you can get yourself free of the duct tape, you doubt you’ll get past these walls.
You rock again. You’re not thinking, your adrenaline is drowning out any sense. Back, front, back front. The chair falls backwards and you curl your chin down to keep from smashing your head. Great, the chair is still intact and you’re just on the floor.
You whine and let your head loll to the side. This is absurd. You really can’t accept that it’s real. Your luck can’t be that bad.
Click, the door opens. You whimper as the chair crushes your hands. Suddenly, the world tilts back to normal as the chair is pulled up.
It’s him, the leader. You know him by his blue eyes. He backs up and crosses his arm as he stares at you, his mask barely concealing his agitation. You give a sheepish cringe.
“What do I do with you?” He asks.
You try to shrug but can’t. You suck in air and shake.
“Let me go? I won’t say anything–”
He puts a hand up and you snap your mouth shut. You don’t need him to tell you to be quiet. You’re too terrified.
“Rhetorical,” he growls. “You might not intend on saying anything but there are people who will find a way to make you.” He turns and paces to one side, then the other, then faces you again. “They will know…”
You nod and flick your lashes as your eyes burn. That means there’s only one option. You’ve seen the movies. You’re not dumb but you are fucking scared as shit.
You close your eyes and brace yourself. You sit like that, cheeks taut, mouth drawn. You can at least die with dignity. His tread scuffs and he sniffs.
“What are you doing?” He asks.
You open one eye, “hm? Oh, I’m getting ready.”
“For?” He reaches up to rub his chin through the mask.
“Death.”
He’s quiet as he cups his jaw. He clucks and exhales through his nose. He drops his arms straight and shifts his weight to one foot.
He reaches behind himself and wiggles something free from his belt. He brings the gun around and checks the chamber. You close your eyes again and squeak. You’ve never seen one up close. Your blood is ice. Your teeth chatter as you hide behind your eyelids.
Really? Isn’t your life supposed to flash before your eyes? All you see is black.
You wait. It’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming–
He sighs and you hear a metallic click. You wait until you can wait no longer. You open your eyes, peeking through your lashes. He pushes his head back in exasperation. “Fuck.”
“Come on, dude, this is torture. I can’t wait any longer. I got a nervous stom–” you hold back a wretch, “a nervous tummy.” You gulp back again, “I don’t wanna die with puke in my mouth.”
“Shut up!” He waves his hand angrily, “shut up.”
You seal your lips, if only to stave off the swell of nausea. It’s getting worse. Now that it’s really sinking in. The end. Oh no, no, no!
“I’m gonna barf.”
“What?”
“It’s happening.”
“Don’t–”
“I can’t–” You hold your breath, spasming as you fight the vomit bubbling in your stomach.
“Stop it,” he demands.
You nod and groan, bending your head forward as your insides clench.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he stomps across the room and grabs a plastic bag. He approaches you and holds it open. “In here. Not on the carpet.”
You lean as far forward as you can and hurl. You wretch until you have nothing left, acid searing your throat as the bagel you ate for breakfast floats in chewed chunks amidst the bile. You sit back and heave.
“Thanks,” you let the tension leave your shoulders.
“Ugh-gh-gh,” he shudders as he closes the bag, “that’s… that’s gross.”
He holds it with one hand, away from his body.
“Tastes pretty bad,” you grimace.
He shoots you a mean look and you wince. He twists the bag and ties it in a knot. He turns cautiously, as if it might break, and strides to the door. It opens and slams behind him.
You didn’t think things could get worse but the taste of puke definitely isn’t better.
#raymond smith#dark raymond smith#dark!raymond smith#raymond smith x reader#the wrong one#drabble#series#the gentlemen
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Heist
She heard Lena's angry steps as she got closer to the med bay. She should've probably heard them sooner, but her current condition left her more exhausted than she realised.
The door opened with more force than necessary as a furious Lena Luthor headed in her direction.
"Good luck sis." Alex provided her with a small pat on her shoulder before leaving the room. Giving Lena a small nod as she left.
"You better have a very good explanation for that." Lena's tone carried so much untamed anger, it almost sounded like a threat.
"It was just a heist gone wrong." She started, attempting to sit up on the bed and failing as she felt the wound on her stomach pulse in excruciating pain. She let out a small groan she tried her best to suppress, and continued with the best smile she could master. "I'm fine though!" She promised. "I just didn't know about the alien weapons. Don't worry Alex is looking into them."
"You were reckless and stupid!" she hurled at her. "You could've waited for reinforcement when you suspected they were using something bigger." She took the seat next to her, seemingly needing to ground herself.
"It was quicker that way! I had the element of surprise and as you can see I'm fine." Kara tried again, attempting to put a hand on Lena's before she shook her hand away.
"You're clearly not fine Kara! Look at you! You should've taken the safer option. Always take the safer option."
"Lena, I really am fine, I promise."
"No!" Her eyes were beginning to water when she met her gaze. "You listen to me Kara Zor-El Danvers! In a few months we are going to have children together, kids who are going to need both their mothers, do you understand that?"
"I– "
"And they don't need you to fighting criminals in the streets for them–"
"It was a heist–"
"They need you home with them!" She didn't think she’d heard Lena this emotional, not since the fortress. Kata turned off the sun lamp so Lena could get closer. Lena didn't hesitate and embraced her, making sure not to squeeze her too tightly. "I need you Kara." She whispered in her ear between sobs.
Something bloomed within Kara's chest and she didn't think it was the blast from earlier. Lena felt perfect in her arms, she always did, but there was something about that moment that - Kara realised she didn't want to let her go. Simply holding Lena in her arms felt more healing than a thousand sun lumps.
"Sorry," Lena cleared her throat as she pulled back.
"No, no it's fine. I'm sorry." Kara smiled back, her heartbeat quickening all of a sudden. She moved a stray hair from Lena's face and felt as if the world stopped. Lena's face was all that existed, her eyes still red glistened in the fluorescent lights of the bay, they were the most beautiful things that Kara had ever seen. And her lips were so full and red. Were her lips always so soft looking?
"Kara!" Alex's voice broke her out of her haze. She wasn't sure when she got so close to Lena's face. "Are you okay? Your heart rate skyrocketed!"
Despite not having superspeed, she moved back from Lena faster than she thought was humanly possible, her face red as a tomato. She groaned loudly as she did once the pain from the sudden movement surged through her body.
"Why is the sun lamp turned off? Kara, do you need me to remind you of the importance of continuance healing?"
"I know, it's just–"
"Sorry Lena, I think I might have to have some words with my sister."
"It's okay. I'll be on my way." Lena composed herself quickly and walked out of the room. Kara couldn't help but follow her figure with her eyes as she went, even after she left her field of view.
She wasn't sure what, but something felt different.
Read everything in order on AO3
#look whos getting some sense knocked into her#supercorp#supergirl#kara danvers#lena luthor#supercorptober#supercorptober2023#my art#my fic
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MISCELLANEOUS SENTENCE PROMPTS
* collection #5
take a nap with me.
please don't go.
you talk too much.
don't bother with any male chauvinistic compliments.
such disdain can not and must not be tolerated.
my handwriting is so bad, sometimes i think i should've been a doctor.
i wouldn't say no to getting lost with you.
we've got the element of surprise on our side.
i had to carry you for a while. it wasn't pretty.
anything broken?
i'm very impressed with you.
drinks all around!
now what is that supposed to mean?
i guess freedom is purely relative.
can you repeat that? i wasn't listening.
i'm not a threat. i won't hurt you.
what sort of trouble are you looking for?
when you're ready, we can get out of here.
i couldn't find your gun.
well, i thought you might be a little angry.
oh don't tell me. let me guess.
keep that thing away from me.
glad you think i'm hot... i guess.
hope that wasn't a family heirloom.
how has work been?
i don't think the world is full of criminals and full of murderers. it's full of nice people.
it could happen to anyone.
is your head clear yet?
will you go find yourself another suspect?
don't ask me any questions. i'm calling my attorney.
i'm trying to watch the game!
that's been known to happen.
i could wait.
can i ask a personal question?
how can i be angry looking at you?
i don't want to cut down on my standard of living.
don't catch a cold out there. wear a jacket.
you sure do know how to work a crowd.
what brought you here tonight?
i don't think you care too much.
that was... unexpected.
are you in charge of this mess or not?
this isn't what it looks like.
i just go where they tell me to.
i hope this isn't a bad time.
do you see something wrong?
here's your scarf. you dropped it.
i miss the way you used to touch me.
that's a stupid idea.
did it rain last tuesday?
can i sit in this?
that's not my problem.
did you have anything specific that you wanted to talk to me about?
i'm beginning to be very fond of you.
i didn't realize i drank that much.
may our enemies never be as happy as we are at this moment.
if you wait a while, we can go home together.
screw the rest of them. make them squirm.
that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.
i meant to do that.
everybody is a suspect.
it's noble of you to come galloping to the rescue.
i know that. you told me.
you see, artists are very, very delicate.
you'll always have everything.
there's just one more thing i need to ask you...
can i use your phone?
i wasn't snooping.
can i take you out to dinner? my treat.
isn't that peculiar?
thanks for stopping by.
i usually don't drink anything i can't pronounce.
i just don't want anybody else to have it.
mind if i smoke?
what do you think of this?
i really appreciate your taking the time to chat with me.
why do all these people feel that they know me?
i can't tell you what a big help you've been.
as you travel through life, you'll encounter many barriers to happiness.
you're safe. i promise. i'm right here.
over my dead body.
that must have been very hard, losing someone you love like that.
this didn't need to happen.
i must have your name.
what's the matter? did i scare you?
what did you pay for those shoes?
i'm not very good on details, that's why i write everything down.
you didn't have a fight or anything, did you?
i've never met anyone quite like you. can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
are you still with me?
i guess it slipped your mind.
let's go inside. we'll be more comfortable.
do you mind if i grab a blanket? it's freezing in here.
just for the record, i love you.
maybe you should take the couch tonight.
maybe it would help if i knew where i was taking you.
#rp starters#rp memes#rp prompt#rp meme#rp musings#roleplay memes#roleplay prompt#roleplay meme#writing prompt#ask memes#rp asks#ask meme#inbox prompt#rp inbox meme#sentence starter#sentence starters#sentence starter prompt#mcflymemes#random dialogue
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Do you think andor stans are pretentious? I'm seeing people calling them that more and more. I know some are annoying but every star wars fan is annoying imo.
the most beloved past time of star wars fans is bitching, and andor has provided us with an extremely productive frontier from which to do so. I’ll just agree and say that yeah sure it’s pretentious, because I don’t think trying to like logically refute that is a good use of time.
I think part of the reason why the “andor is better than the rest of star wars” sentiment is so popular (beyond the subjective enjoyment of it as a superior show) is that andor has a completely fresh take on star wars, one that is deeply connected with the “guts” of star wars canon, and its presence in the canon is making people go “wait we could have had this kind of Star Wars content all along?” and then rage at the rest of the franchise for not being andor.
It’s sort of hard to describe why it feels this way (at least in short form lol), but like I think the main difference between andor and the “traditional” star wars show is that andor is taking the canon extremely seriously. not in a strict factual manner, but in the sense of like, okay how does the empire operate? what is its internal structure like? How does it respond to rebel attacks? What impact does that have on civilian populations?
These of course are not new questions (I think SW Rebels for example does a decent job of exploring these things), but it feels different. To use the mandalorian as a counter example, take the tracking fobs the guild hands out. These are simple devices that provide location data for targets. They make the plot go forward. Easy and simple. But like, I don’t think that would fly in a show like andor. Not only on a technical sense (how tf do you get sub-metre accurate positional data on another person who is dozens of solar systems away, frequently on fringe planets that do not have global satellites?) but also in a sociological sense - if this technology is available, how else is it used? Who else uses it? What kind of society produces this kind of technology? I think andor pushes audiences to think of these silly little gadgets as technologies of power. It must always be considered in its ability to oppress people and its role in structuring society. The infrastructure required to make something as simple as those tracking fobs work is itself a commentary on the state of the galaxy. And these questions are multi-scalar - if something as simple as a tracking fob can provide extremely accurate, unrestricted data on virtually any person in the galaxy, where do those data come from? Where are those data being held? Who controls those datasets? Why are these data being collected?
I think andor most excels at attending to the bureaucratic and administrative elements of the empire. “The Empire” is not a literal physical thing that you can point to and say it exists, it’s a collection of people and equipment and buildings and processes and laws and ideas. You see proof of the state in andor every time a database is queried, every time a criminal record is made, every time a security contract for another planet is secured. a person could go their entire life without seeing a star destroyer and still know the empire is very much real. It’s literally doing “we live in a society” shit with star wars. It approaches star wars not at the level of individual characters but at the level of systems, as a process of history that you are watching unfold, and that history is being told through the lens of people experiencing it.
This is sort of drifting off topic, so to circle back - I think andor is demonstrating the power of star wars canon in a way previously unconsidered, and people are (i think understandably) irritated that, for all the money and brain power and talent behind a lot of the other shows, we aren’t getting the same level of curiosity for this incredibly expansive fictional universe. I don’t think star wars always has to be this way, or even be this serious, but I think the recent narrative failures of the other shows (the mandalorian, kenobi, book of boba fett) demonstrate that star wars does not have to be about itself - you can explore the canon seriously and create stories from what already exists. You do not need to treat characters as saints or action figures, you do not need to flinch away from them showing vulnerability or humility or flaws. People will disagree that the shows I mentioned do this in the first place, but then they’re the people who say “you’re pretentious” to begin with, so in the immortal words of sun tzu. who give a shit
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Hero Worship
From the moment you met Soldier Boy, you knew the obsession would become your life.
Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader
Word Count: 2094
Warnings: Smut. Just smut.
For mah Liz @jensensgotyoudean 💚💚💚 Dividers by @firefly-graphics
It was dangerous downtown. A battle was raging in the street, Payback out in force against some criminal element, you didn’t really know the details. There was no reason for you to be there. Well, there was no good reason.
You were there for him.
You had bought the police scanner a couple of weeks after you met him for the first time. Some big media frenzy parade, all the members of Payback shaking hands, posing for pictures, signing autographs for rabid fans. Soldier Boy had posed and strutted and smirked his way through the crowd, but when his eyes had landed on you – he had paused, one side of his sinful lips drawn up in a lecherous smile. “Well, hello there, beautiful,” he had said, his voice smooth and warm as hot buttered rum. He had taken your hand in his, brought it to his lips, and gave it a kiss that immediately brought to mind how those lush lips would feel elsewhere. “Hope I can run into you again sometime.” His eyes were dark with promises of what could happen, if that were to happen. When he left you standing there, your knees were weak and there was a steady throbbing between your thighs that took way too long to subside.
And so your obsession began. You listened to the scanner night and day, waiting to hear that Payback was on the scene anywhere you could manage to drive to within a reasonable time. After, of course, making sure you were dressed to attract the attention of the man you couldn’t get out of your mind.
Of course, he never noticed you. To be fair, he was always rather occupied beating the living shit out of the bad guys, so you watched and admired and dreamed of what you wished could be. Those nights you’d go home, desperately wanting, but forced to settle for your own touch to relieve the aching desire. It just wasn’t enough. You wanted him – his hard, muscled body against yours, his lips on your skin, his rough fingers touching you, his undoubtedly large cock buried inside you.
Obsession wasn’t a strong enough word for what you felt for him. It was pure, unbridled, desperate lust that drove you, and you wouldn’t be satisfied until – well, until you were satisfied.
The current battle was growing more heated, more violent, and you backed up against the wall of a building near an alley where you could escape if the action moved in your direction. Your eyes searched the melee, looking for what they were hungry for, your blood heating up as you watched him pummel his opponent, tossing the man out of the way like a discarded rag doll. Miraculously, his eyes scanned the area and came to rest on you for a split second, and you froze, staring back. He turned back to the fight, but a loud explosion rocked the neighborhood, and your eyes widened as the wreckage of a car came flying your direction.
Something collided with you, driving the air from your lungs, and you squeezed your eyes shut, knowing this was your last moment on earth. An ear-splitting crash sent your eyes open wide once again, a cry of terror startled from your throat, but there was no pain, no crushing weight on top of you. Instead, as the shock and panic began to subside a little, you realized that you were lying a good distance into the alley, which was now blocked by a huge pile of burning debris. You raised your head, looking directly into the green eyes you saw every night in your dreams.
“Well, I guess I finally ran into you again.”
You were lying on top of your hero, his arms still wrapped tight around you, and you wondered for a moment if you should pinch yourself. But if this was a dream, you didn’t want to wake up. “You – you saved me. Thank you.”
His large hands spanned your waist and lifted you to your feet. Your eyes followed as he stood, towering over you. “So what is a classy woman like you doing in a trashy neighborhood like this?”
You looked up at him, your adoration clear in your eyes. “You. I came for you.”
He grinned. “And I haven’t even touched you yet.”
Your cheeks grew warm and you ducked your head a little to hide your embarrassed smile. “I mean – I listen to police calls, and when I hear you’re somewhere close, I show up so I can – see you. And I always hope you’ll see me. But you never have. Until today.”
“Lucky for you, I saw you this time. Or you’d be a smear on the sidewalk out there.”
You took a step closer, looking up at him again. “And I’m very grateful.” Lifting yourself up on tiptoe, your hand on his shoulder to help you balance, you kissed his cheek.
His green-eyed stare was intense as he raised a hand to your face, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. “Exactly how grateful are you, princess?”
You let your hand trail down his chest, every nerve in your body buzzing with electricity as you moved it further, finally cupping the generous bulge beneath his uniform. “Very, very grateful.”
A soft, contemplative “Hmmmmm…” vibrated in his chest, his lips pouting as he gazed down at you, appraising. “Show me.”
Your eyes fixed on his, you lowered yourself to your knees on the dirty concrete. He stared back, his eyes almost glowing with lust as he opened his belt of his uniform and unfastened his pants, leaving the rest up to you. Your hands were shaking a little as you reached for the waist of his briefs, unveiling him, your eyes now focused on your prize. He was glorious, even better than your dreams, long and thick and pulsing slightly with his steady heartbeat.
You moistened your lips with your tongue, fingers curling around his girth to stroke him gently. He was velvety-soft and hard as steel, making your mouth water for a taste. Your eyes drifted closed as you leaned in, dragging your tongue over him from root to tip, then swirling it over the head before your took him into your mouth.
His fingers tangled in your hair, the other hand stroking your cheek as you worked to take him in deeper with each bob of your head. “If your mama could see you now, on your knees in a dirty alley with your mouth full of cock…” he crooned, and you moaned softly around him, sucking hard as you pulled back. “Oh, yeah, princess, you really are grateful.”
He kept his hand in your hair, but let you be in control until you finally got close to taking him in fully. Then he took hold of you with both hands and shoved himself in to the limit, smirking down at you as you fought the urge to gag, tears leaking from your eyes. “Good girl. Just relax,” he ordered, groaning as your throat spasmed, trying to swallow. Then he pulled himself free, letting you catch your breath and wipe your face on your sleeve before he reached for your hands to help you stand.
He brushed the hair back from your face, his eyes shining as he smiled down at you. “Took that like a champ, princess. How about I return the favor?” He moved his hands to your waist, steering you around and backwards until you were against the far wall. He slipped both hands beneath the skirt of your knit mini dress and tore your panties apart as if they were tissue, discarding the scraps behind him and going down to one knee in front of you. “Might want to hang on,” he grinned, then ducked his head underneath your skirt and grabbed one leg behind your knee to hook it over his shoulder.
Your head fell back against the wall with a solid thud as he nuzzled his face between your lower lips and began to nibble and lick with an appreciative growl. You clutched desperately at his shoulders, trying not to shout at the jolts of pleasure firing through you, almost biting through your lip to keep from screaming as he sucked at your clit, making you come so hard you couldn’t breathe for a moment. “That’s my girl,” he mumbled against you, continuing with his mouth and working two still-gloved fingers inside you, twisting and rubbing, driving you nearly mad with his unerring aim at your sweet spot.
Once you came again, he moved back and rose to his feet, his arms around you to support your limp body. “Easy, there, beautiful.” He held you until you found your legs again, even though they were still weak and wobbly. He braced his body against yours, holding you against the wall while he lowered his pants a little more, then lifted you to wrap your legs around him.
He shifted his hips and reached down to guide himself to your entrance, pushing steadily forward until you were trembling around him, filled to your limit and whimpering softly. He held you against the wall with his hips as he hooked the fingers of both hands in the scoop neck of your dress and yanked it down along with the cups of your bra. He began to move with short, hard thrusts, driving deep, his eyes on your bouncing breasts as you let out a desperate whine of his name. “Soldier Boy...”
He laughed, never losing his rhythm. “Kitten, I’m balls deep inside you – I think you can call me Ben.”
The fabric of your dress snagged against the brick behind you with each powerful thrust, your body riding a knife’s edge of pleasure on the cusp of exploding, but never quite getting there. Your head lolled forward, and he gave a sharp tug to your nipple, sending your eyes wide again. “Look at you, my little fuck-drunk princess. Come on, give it to me and I’ll fill you up, doll.” He pulled back and speared into you, tweaking your nipple again, and you came with a shattered shriek of his name.
“Ben!!” When your orgasm began to ebb, you went limp as a rag doll as he fucked into you mercilessly, chasing his own climax, the sensation of him throbbing inside you making your body react with a violent shudder, your arms dropping useless to your sides. You barely heard the sound of screeching metal, and then someone calling out as they entered the alley, your eyes unfocused as Soldier Boy’s sidekick Gunpowder came into view.
“Soldier Boy. Hey, we’re going back to headquarters, just wanted to let you know. Told Countess you were talking to reporters. Sorry to interrupt you, sir.”
“It’s okay, kid. We’re done. She’s definitely done,” he said with a smirk. He lifted you off his still half-hard cock, lowering you to stand on shaky legs as he put himself away and zipped up. He continued talking as he tugged your dress back up to cover your chest, glancing around and bending down to grab your destroyed panties. “Kid, I’ve got a job for you. I need you to take her to her car and drive her home. You can call with the address, I’ll send a car to pick you up.” Gunpowder nodded with a ‘Yes, sir’ as Soldier Boy handed you the scrap of fabric. “Here, kitten, better clean up a little.”
He watched, eyes narrowed, as you gingerly cleaned between your legs as best you could, tossing the cloth to the ground. “What’s your name, princess?” You told him, your eyes slowly moving up until they met his, a self-satisfied smile still on his face. “Kid’s gonna take you home, make sure you’re inside safe. I might stop by sometime, continue this little conversation. If you want.” You nodded, smiling back at him weakly. “Good girl.” He stepped aside and you walked on wobbly legs to where the teenage superhero waited, taking his offered arm for support and letting him escort you from the alley.
Most of your time now is spent waiting for him. You have no need to work anymore, since he pays your rent and expenses. He sends a messenger to let you know when he’s coming, sometimes with instructions for you to follow. Occasionally there’s a gift of lingerie, or a sex toy. He treats you like a princess and fucks you like a whore, always leaving you exhausted and well-satisfied.
Best job you’ve ever had.
Tags for my lovelies: @saenalife @deanscarlett @jensensgotyoudean @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @geeklibrarian @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @mrswhozeewhatsis @littlegreenplasticsoldier @sleep-silent-angel @darcia22 @winchesterprincessbride @ellen-reincarnated1967 @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @deanslittleangel2y5 @melanie451 @spectaculacular-sammy @bookchic20 @jodyri @selma-jean-blog @savingapplepie-eatingthings @kittenofdoomage @masked-maiden42 @lean-mean-deanwinchester @ericuhlorain @ceeceewinchester @typicalweirdbookworm @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit @youtoldalie @tanithlowisabamf-blog @deandoesthingstome @nerdwholikesword @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic @kreweofimp @gabavaldman @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog @darkx143 @disassociativedogma @ioanashalala @jencharlan @deansthirstblog @dorky-and-i-know-it @mischief-maker1 @winchestersandwordprocessors @percussiongirl2017 @bringmesomepie56 @akshi8278 @torn-and-frayed @sandlee44 @wingedcatninja @evansrogerskitten @emoryhemsworth @peaceinourtime82 @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @sarcasmqueen74 @maliburenee @mrsjenniferwinchester @yeehawbitchs @emily-winchester @hobby27
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Indulgences
BTAA!Scarecrow x Female!Reader, word count: 4k
commission: jonathan crane and secretary!reader give in to their mutual desires, which reader needs to be encouraged to partake in 🎃🧡
commission me here!
request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist
minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: daddy kink, oral sex, rough sex, persistent behaviour
At least I don’t have to walk through any alleys. At least I get to stick to the busier streets, the nicer neighbourhoods. There’s an artisanal coffee shop on the way, not many people can say that. It’s fine, this is luck. You’re lucky to have this job. You’re lucky to have any job, really. But this one is perfect. It’s fine. You can do it. He doesn’t have any power over you. He’s your employer. He’s your boss. Yeah, he’s Jonathan Crane, but that doesn’t automatically give him a one-up. He likes you just as much as… it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you will not give in to this temptation.
Each morning, as you took the short trip to work from your apartment, you had to give yourself a pep talk. A reminder that this was worth it, in the long run. That you would be foolish, and quite frankly almost ignorant, to give up the comfort you managed to find, in Gotham of all places, because of some uncontrolled emotions. You had a job that provided enough money for you to afford a nice apartment in a nice area, that challenged you, but not too much, and brought you a genuine sense of value and worth. But it did mean you were exposed, almost daily, to the difficult charms of Jonathan Crane.
Working with Jonathan was a blessing and a curse. The security of employment with a reputable, at least society facing, psychologist was something that was rare in Gotham. Add to that the element of safety in being employed by one of the city’s more venerable and amicable villains, there was limited risk of being caught in the crossfire, unlike the employees of Sionis or Cobblepot. And he clearly trusted you, as he hadn’t been shy in telling you of his criminal escapades, his alter ego as The Scarecrow. In fact, you’d only been working with him for a month before he took you into his office and revealed the secret.
You supposed for someone like Jonathan, if he’d sensed even the slightest hint that you might not be one to trust, he would just have you killed. You’d thought as much at the time, as you stood, heart racing, swallowing your fear in your closed throat, sweat beading on your forehead. But the fear you had shown, it seemed to comfort him. Very on brand for that strange, yet deeply interesting, man.
Realising how silly you sounded, as you tried to quantify all of the thoughts in your mind, you stopped on the street corner across from the building which housed his office. You liked him. You really liked him. But it felt like a risk, or a mistake. Something about it seemed to suggest to you that it would only end in tears, or worse, in your demise. And it was this contradiction, this predicament, which made it so difficult for you to show up to work each day. Only worsened by the fact that you had begun to suspect that Jonathan had similar feelings for you.
He had always been flirtatious, part of his charm you guessed. He was like that with everyone. Little jokes, a lingering touch on the arm or the lower back. He’d frighten people, speaking soft and low, making them get closer to him before giving them a little jolt of fear. It usually had them giggling, sweating, confused. On several occasions he’d pointed that out to you, the line between fear and arousal. It all had to do with adrenaline, he’d say. And he was very right about that.
As you entered the office, you took your place at the desk in the waiting room. Checking the calendar, you realised it would be another two hours before the first patient arrived for their appointment. That gave you plenty of time to get comfortable and settled. But just as you began to repeat your affirmations, taking your slow, long breaths in a bid to calm your body, Jonathan entered.
“Ah, you’ve here. Always there to brighten my morning, huh?”
“Jonathan, lovely to see you. I’ve left coffee on your desk.”
“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest. Why don’t you come in and join me?”
“Is that… mandatory? Or work-related?”
Jonathan offered you a wry smile as he looked you up and down, scrutinising you.
“Would that make a difference? C’mon, we’re all friends here, right?”
You swallowed your nerves at his wink, trying to maintain your composure, the control you still had over the situation.
“I suspect that this might be more than a friendly discussion, Crane.”
“Oh! I do love it when you’re feisty in the morning.”
He walked into his office, still speaking to you.
“If you feel like joining me, make sure to bring that snarky attitude with you. Drives me crazy.”
You scoffed and rolled your eyes, picking up a pen and twirling it as you absent-mindedly stared at the wall in front of you. With an irritated mumble, you got up form your desk and followed Jonathan into his office, standing against the closed door and staring at him with your arms folded.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“I’m here now, what do you want with me?”
Jonathan let out a dry chuckle, as his pupils widened, staring at you from his desk.
“Oh, bit of a dangerous question, don’t you think? I could do a lot of psychoanalysing on that. The phrasing, the way you’re standing, the words you chose, the slight implied innuendo despite your obvious attempts to seem uninterested. All of it, very telling indeed.”
“Do you think so?”
“I know so. Why don’t you take a seat?”
“I’d rather stand, thanks.”
“A contrarian, through and through.”
“I’m really not.”
He raised an eyebrow at you, smiling wide as you proved his point. It infuriated you to no end that despite as hard as you tried to gain the upper-hand, he was always one-step above you.
“Fine, I’ll take a seat.”
You chose the softer of the two armchairs that faced his desk, avoiding eye contact with him until it was impossible to ignore the silence any longer. When you looked up to him, he caught your eyes, staring into them intensely. His stare held you, it was almost hypnotic. He was a commanding presence in your life, and you hated that as much as you enjoyed it. In moments like these it was difficult not to give in to your temptations. To succumb to the harmless but persistent flirting. To accept that you had a crush. Maybe get it out of your system even. But you sensed that someone like Jonathan Crane wasn’t up for being quickly used and discarded. He had to conquer his love interests, and you were determined not to let that be the case, despite how he made your heart beat faster and your body tremble with just a few innocent enough words.
From the drawer on his side of the desk, Jonathan produced a folder marked confidential, with your name on a label on the top right hand corner. He thumbed through the pages in silence as you sat nervously. You wondered what it could be. A dossier of reasons that he wanted to kill you? Or reasons he wanted to sleep with you? It could have been anything with him, and the anticipation only served to help you conjure up more fanatical and nerve-wracking theories.
Reading from the pages, he made an occasional soft noise, a small ‘hm’ or an ‘ah’ as he took in the information. Eventually, you grew more irritated than you were nervous, and coughed, clearing your throat obviously in the hopes that he would get whatever he intended to do over with.
Without looking to you, eyes remaining on the pages as he scanned them from top to bottom, reading whatever words were so intensely interesting to him, he finally.
“So… would you like a performance review?”
“A... a performance review? Are you kidding me?”
“No, why would I be?”
“That’s what you called me in here for?”
Jon smiled wryly as he peered over the top of the folder he held in his hands.
“Partly. I thought it would be a good idea to kill two birds with one stone. I love that phrase, don’t you? Such violent imagery. It conjures up such a guttural feeling. So… connected to our ancestry, and yet the convenience of modern life is hinted at to-”
“Jonathan. I have a job to do.”
“Uh-huh, and who provides you with that employment?”
Leaning back in your chair in slight disbelief, you narrowed your eyes at him as you spoke.
“Are you threatening me, Mister Crane?”
“Not at all, sugar. I’m simply… reinforcing the status quo here. The hierarchy. The way that our… relationship works. You’re my employee, after all. And I’m your boss, correct?”
With a scrutinising glance you tried to figure out what he was getting at, but couldn’t make it past his cool exterior.
“As technical as you can get, yes.”
“And yet, we’re also friends, are we not?”
“I suppose so.”
Your heart fluttered at his words, feeling deeply complimented by the suggestion.
“You’re my employee, and my friend. But perhaps… maybe… I would like you to be a little more than that.”
“More…?”
“Oh, come on. As if you can’t see it, as if you don’t want the same things I do. As if we aren’t already something a little bit more than that.”
Trying to contain your smile, you feigned innocence, or ignorance, and looked up and to the right, as though you were trying to think of what he might be suggesting.
“Listen… we flirt. Constantly. I can see it, you can see it. Everyone can see it. I have clients who are so unaware that they don’t even recognise their mother is to blame for their issues, and even they can see it.”
“You talk about me with clients?”
“That’s besides the point. Look. We work great together.”
“Yes, in the same office.”
“Not like that, you know what I mean. You and I, we gel. We get on, we have a connection. I think we’d make an excellent pair, don’t you?”
Jonathan had stood up from his seat as he spoke, walking around the desk and stopping in front of it, where he leaned in repose on the surface when he had finished his argument in the little debate you two were caught up in.
“I want people to see us together, more obviously than they do now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want them to see you with me. I want them to know who you’re with.”
You kept your face still, not wanting to give anything away, but desperately wanting to scream at the concept he was offering you. You didn’t want to be owned by Jonathan, you didn’t want to make a big thing out of whatever you two might have. It seemed that he wanted the opposite though, and admittedly, his determination to have you, to possess you, like a trophy he could show off, was deeply intriguing and more than a little arousing.
“In a sense that…”
“In a sense that they wouldn’t dare try anything with you, because they knew who you belonged to.”
Trying to maintain your air of composure, your dignity in the face of potential ownership, you tilted your head and stared him down with an unamused look.
“Belonged to? So I not only work for you, but I’d be your property too? Sounds… unpleasant actually, Jon.”
He stood up from the desk and moved closer to you, his stance commanding, charisma oozing from his very being, his voice trance-like as he spoke to you so directly and convincingly.
“Come on now. We’re both intelligent people. We both know what’s going on here, what’s going on between us. It would be so easy to just admit it and let it happen. I don’t have a human resources department, so there’s no one to get on our case. What is it that you’re so worried about? What makes you so hesitant?”
He had answered his own question, really. Jonathan was so deeply, intensely interested in you, in everyone. He could learn more about you from the way you lifted a coffee cup than most people could in a decade of spending time with you. You could only imagine what information he might glean from fucking you. And then where would you be? You’d be employed by a psychotic psychiatrist who knew everything about you, that’s where. Only in Gotham.
“Just let go. Let yourself give in to pleasure. I promise, I’ll make it worth the risk of this little dalliance.”
His smug grin, pressed into his cheeks so firmly that it accentuated the wrinkles around his eyes had your chest heaving as you breathed heavily. You weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. It was tempting, so tempting. And though you were reluctant to give in to the feelings you held for him, it was deeply flattering, and very encouraging, to see him outwardly express those same desires.
It couldn’t possibly be as bad as I think it will be. I want this. I need this, I think. It’s gone beyond just a silly workplace crush, with witty remarks and back and forth flirtatious teasing. This is… something deeper now. And the longer I hold off, the worse it’s going to get. Perhaps it would be better to just get this out of my system. Do it now and get it over with. And then I’ll-
You were pulled out of your thoughts, ruminations and worries swirling at the forefront of your mind, by the feeling of Jonathan’s lips on yours, his hands holding your upper arms to keep you steady. The grip, forceful but deeply romantic, held within it the exact amount of passion, it turned out, to have you falling into him. Melting into the embrace, you wrapped your arms around his, feeling your leg beginning to snake up the back of his pants. He gripped it, fingers digging into your thighs and bringing it higher, around his waist, as he stepped forward, pushing you, stumbling, back into the wall where he deepened the kiss.
Biting, licking, sucking at your lips, Jonathan moaned hungrily against you. You yelped as he bit a little too hard, and he pulled back quickly, soothing over your bottom lip with his thumb and offering an apologetic smile.
“I’ve wanted this for a while. You’ve held out on me. So I apologise if I’m a bit… rough.”
His eyes moved from yours and began mapping out your body, taking in every inch of you.
“It’s been very difficult to watch you, a free agent, outside of my will.”
You scoffed, but took a sharp inhale as he stared into your eyes again, smiling at you, wry and mischievous.
“You’re so dead set on not indulging me. Why is that?”
Trying to avoid his intense gaze, you turned your face, but with a soft motion he brought you back around with his palm on your cheek.
“Is it because you’re ashamed of how much you want that? It’s ok to want to be wanted. It’s completely normal to want to be owned. I should know, I’m a psychologist, remember.”
He let his fingers trace down your throat, following their trail with his tongue as he made his way down your front with kisses, planting them softly, his breath warm against you, as he got to his knees before you, resting his face against your abdomen as he ran his hands up and down your sides.
“Every curve.”
His hands pressed into you, grabbing and squeezing at your body, your waist, your hips. As he let them reach behind you, cupping your ass, you let out of a soft noise, which made him smile.
“Every moan.”
You giggled as he made his way back up your body, bringing his hands to your face, fingers skating over your lips, making you shiver at the touch.
“And indeed, every quiver. They belong to me. And only me. Understand?”
Completely entranced by the way he held you, you nodded slowly but with enthusiasm.
Smiling at you, a grin that made your blood run cold, he leaned in to whisper into your ear once more.
“Then would you kindly lay down on my desk, please. And remove all the clothes on your bottom half first.”
As you stepped past him, pulling at your clothes in a hurry to get them off, his palm caught your rear, smacking the cheek and bringing forth an amused yelp and giggle from you. It made your cheeks flush, the way you had reacted. You hated how much you liked it. And he could tell, as he watched you lean back on the desk, bottom half completely nude and exposed. Running his palms up your thighs, past your stomach and to your neck, he loosened a few of the buttons on your shirt and kissed at your neck again.
Distracted by his moans and ministrations against your sensitive skin, you hadn’t even noticed he had removed his own pants and underwear until he was pressing his cock inside of you. You moaned, letting your breath out in a slow exhale as you smiled, unable to stop yourself. It felt amazing, better than you could have imagined or hoped. And you’d spent a lot of time hoping and imagining, though you wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone, even under threat of Jonathan’s fear inducing drugs.
Jonathan, enthused and encouraged by your reaction to his cock twitching and throbbing within you, began to rock his hips, pressing himself into you further, picking up the pace and grunting with each movement. At the angle you sat at, legs hanging over the edge of the desk, perched on your rear alone, he gripped your hips, holding you steady so he could push up into you, hitting the right spots as he did so. Occasionally, past the panting and guttural groans, you could hear him laughing. He was so smug, so proud of himself. So happy to be claiming you. The thought drove you wild, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer to you.
As Jonathan continued to fill you, pumping his substantial length inside of your cunt, pressing his tip as far as he could, he clutched at your back, holding you tight, close to him. In lustful desperation, you gripped his hair, drawing his mouth to your neck, begging him silently to ravish you, kiss you, bite you, suck you, whatever he was willing to do for you. And luckily, his participation extended to all three, as his teeth clenched softly on your neck, nipping at it before his tongue flitted over the stinging pain and soothed it, his lips enclosing around you, sucking at the sensitive skin.
“Ooh… Jonathan…”
“Sorry, was that too hard?”
The faux mocking tone sent a tingle down your spine, and you clung to him tighter out of instinct.
“Just… just a little bit…”
He leaned back for a second to offer you a sham pout followed by a cruel smirk.
“My most sincere apologies, I just wanted to make sure you were marked.”
Diving back into your neck, he bit harder this time, lips covering over the stinging pain in a smooth kiss.
“I can’t have any doubts as to who you belong to.”
His teeth marked your flesh, imprints of his bite pattern across your neck, soft ovals of burst blood vessels where had sucked on you, definitely leaving enough of a trace that it was impossible to deny that someone had claimed you. The notion of being entirely his was getting easier and easier to submit to with every passing second, and you could barely contain yourself. It didn’t surprise you at all when you started whispering to him, your own mouth ahead of your brain as you exposed your secrets and begged to be his.
“If you want me, Jonathan, then you can have me. Take me, fill me.”
With a struggled grunt he forced himself deeper, an action you would have thought impossible, and you could feel your abdomen tightening with the pressure of his cock buried so fully within you.
“I want you to make me yours, Jonathan. Mark me, inside and out.”
Jonathan’s breathing quickened, his pace getting faster and less steady as he rutted clumsily against you, hips jutting forth to meet yours as they rocked into his body. His grunting had been reduced to a whimper, almost a whine, as he clung to your skin, holding you as he used you, appreciated you.
“What do you want from me? Tell me. Don’t be shy.”
“I want you to cum inside of me. Paint my fucking insides, Jonathan. I want to be yours. Fill me, take me, just… please, god please don’t let me lose a single drop.”
With a guttural laugh and another quick bite at your collar bone, Jonathan’s body shuddered as he shifted you back and forth in time with his own thrusting, cock twitching as he felt himself coming undone. His seed spilled in thick, white ropes within your cunt, spent entirely within you and holding himself inside, pressed tight against you, to keep as much of him there as possible. He lingered for a few moments longer, enjoying the warmth, the possessiveness over you. His fingers tensed as they clung to your body. He didn’t want this moment to end, and neither did you.
Finally, pulling himself from within you with a low moan, he sat back down on his office chair, holding his slicked cock in his hands as he felt it softening, finally spent and relieved of the tension he had been holding back, that you both had been holding back. He panted slightly until he had caught his breath, his age showing in the way he braced himself, trying to recover from the shaking orgasm that had all but consumed him entirely.
“There… phew… no doubts now, huh?”
You were standing, trying to straighten your clothes out as best as you could, feeling his cum dribbling down your inner thigh and coating your panties. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, knowing you belonged to him, feeling like you were still marked as his territory, his possession, even after he was no longer holding you physically. You had to admit that it was divine, something you had craved before but never would have let yourself admit to.
“Doubts? About what?”
Jonathan leant his head back, groaning in mock frustration before he snapped back down, eyes focused on your body, his gaze drawing up over you and back down as he took you in, still flushed and sweating, marked by his teeth and his fingers.
“Oh, sugar. Don’t be obtuse. It’s no use, I know you’re a sharp girl.”
Playing up, just to irritate him, you stared blankly with a slight frown. You shrugged your shoulders lightly and shook your head a little.
“You wanted that. I wanted that. And I continue to want that. As, I expect, do you. I think we can both feel the tension around us, around the office. So let’s not beat around the bush here!”
He laughed as he spoke in a lilting cadence, trying to seem casual. But you could sense the desperation in his words. And you finally felt like you had the upper-hand.
“We’ll see, Jonathan.”
You walked towards the door, turning as you opened it and stepped back into the hallway.
“We’ll see.”
Leaving him alone in his office, you returned to your desk with a wide grin on your lips. Finally, you felt like you could let yourself indulge in your desires. But not before you teased Jonathan a little longer. He deserved it, after all. And you deserved to feel in control, after everything you put up with from him. A little bit of sweet and sour in your relationship wasn’t anything new, but the method in which it was employed, a change in pace and hierarchy, it made you feel excited to come into work tomorrow.
#finnie writes#batman#scarecrow#jonathan crane#scarecrow imagine#scarecrow smut#scarecrow x reader#rogues gallery#batman rogues#btaa scarecrow
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Could you do like a head cannon for like 1920 noir inquisitor companions/romances
You have to listen to this while you read.
Cassandra: She's a hardened murder cop with a hidden love for romance and no mercy for the criminal underground. She wrote the book on playing by the rules, but when things get tough she'll stab the book and do what's right.
Varric: Sometimes an author has to know his element to discover the truth. Few people would expect the renowned serial novelist to be caught dead in a speakeasy as seedy as the Hanged Man, but with a pencil behind his ear (and a hand always ready on a pistol with his lover's named carved into the barrel) he's always on the hunt for a story.
Solas: A bartender more comfortable with spirits than people, the elf behind the bar at the Dread Wolf is a hard man to read. Good for stiches in a pinch and no slouch in a fight when it suits his fancy, he owes no power in the city alliegence-- and no one knows his end game.
Blackwall: It takes guts to fake your way into a gang like the Wardens, but Thom Rainier's in too deep to back out now. With a dead man's name and street rep to keep the dogs at bay the hardened enforcer can only try to atone for his past-- and fight for a better future.
Vivienne: Very little is known about Madame de Fer, owner and operator of the more exclusive brewery this side of the Tevinter boarder, except that her gin has never seen a bath tub and the Templars don't bother her supply.
Any resemblance to the renowned socialite Vivienne the Enchantress is rarely commented onl; those who do rarely repeat the mistake.
Sera: With the gang warfare, the police cracking down on the littles and the templars hunting any unregulated booze for their prohibition on alcohol someone has to look out for the little guy. No one is really sure who Red Jenny is, but everyone knows that the street kids and pick pockets and beat down element knows her name-- and she is always watching.
The abandoned warehouse on the dock is her headquarters, full of her ill gotten gains and home to the fences who turn it into cash. Nobody starves and everyone profits. A tidy business, yeah?
Dorian: Everyone knows that there is more going on behind the scenes of the Halward Pavus Memorial Library than meets the eye, but no matter how many times it's raided the head archivist is always completely above suspicion. Books and learning are all that linger in those hallowed halls--please try to be quiet on your way out.
But everyone knows that at night Dorian Pavus puts down the index carts and hard backs to pursue his true passion-- and that the Tevinter will pay up to four sovereigns for a fresh corpse*. Medical science is varely stumbling into the light, and if his books on anatomy -so accurate as to be used as reference during surgeries- then the long hours spent on the dissecting table are well worth it.
The Iron Bull: Someone needs to make sure that the beer, wine, whiskey and gin finds its way from hidden distilleries to the thirsty patrons of the city's illicit watering holes. The Chargers are the best, expensive but worth the money to get things where they are going. With a sapper from the wars on tap rumor says they have their own tunnels under the city, but no one knows anything for certain. He runs a clean crew, dependable and honest. Madam de Fer makes frequent use of them.
And if The Iron Bull also reports to the higher ups in the Qun, the north side gang just waiting for a chance to take it all, that's his own business. Straining loyalties may bring it to a show down, but for now he's willing to ride the knife edge.
Cole: No one can really remember when the fortune teller's shop opened at the edge of town. One day it was simply there, mysterious and festooned with gauzy curtains and wreathed in fragrant incense. The nug motif is...a little odd, sure, but tame compared to the figure behind the crystal ball.
It's hard to see his eyes behind the wide brimmed hat, and those who do meet his gaze can't claim to enjoy the experience. But Cole has a way of getting into your head to the deepest thoughts and secrets waiting there and finding the best solutions. Whether he can see the future or not, enough people are willing to try to keep the doors open.
For now.
(I really couldn't figure out the romances. Hope this serves!)
(*in Canada and the US, the resurrectionist movement was still going strong into the late 1950s!)
Mod Fereldone
#dragon age inquisition#solas#dorian pavus#blackwall#sera#cassandra pentaghast#cole#madame de fer#warden blackwall#film noir#1920s
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I'm Craving Open Air and Solid Ground
atsushi & kunikida centric (platonic), canon divergent
sneak peek of the current fic i'm writing!! inspired by a post i just made (the brainworms took over😔) it's an AU where atsushi managed to leave the orphanage earlier and ends up being taken in by kunikida, a 16-year-old runaway. this is the first fic ive written that's going to be 1k+ words (though this little snippet is around 800) & will probably have a sequel :D i'm posting the full thing next week! also, if anyone guesses what book nana is a reference to, u get a cookie
When Kunikida turns sixteen, despite his situation, he has a few things going for him.
He's found a place to stay, for one. The man who owns it is always wreathed in cigarette smoke, but he hadn't asked for any identification; just gave Kunikida the room and asked him to keep the noise down. It was why he'd come to the sketchier part of Yokohama—here, no one bothered to check his identity. No one wondered why he was all alone. He was free.
And wasn't that a thought?
When he'd first ran away, a year back, Kunikida hadn't been nervous about them finding him. Hell, his parents had kicked him out of their house. They wouldn't look for him—nobody would. Surviving on the streets hadn't fazed him much either.
(Everyone around him had wondered why he'd gotten into so many fights, why someone as smart and obedient as him was beating bullies into the dirt, and he didn't know how to explain that liking authority and liking order were different things, and protecting people was more important than any symbol of power.)
He was good at surviving on his own. His scabbed-over knuckles and torn jacket were proof of that. It was why, when he walked down the dirty back alleys, he wasn't worried about getting jumped.
Kunikida wasn't an idiot. He knew this part of Yokohama was notorious for its gangs, and the Port Mafia's shadow loomed above them all, from the weakest child to the most hardened criminal. These passages, built from crumbled brick and cardboard, were prime spots to be targeted. But it was mid-afternoon, and the Port Mafia usually left him alone, so he continued walking. Besides, the cats would want to see him.
Shards of glass crunched under tall combat boots as he walked, and the scent of mold filled the air as he walked under tall buildings, awnings blocking the sun, but he didn't mind; he's walked this path so many times he could do it in the dead of night, with only the light of a cigarette flickering against brick walls to illuminate the way, and only the squeaking of rats to keep him company.
Something moved in the dimness to his right. Kunikida glanced in that direction, but didn't change his posture. It was one of the cats: Nana. There were many cats that lived in this alley, shielded from the elements, but Nana was his favorite. He was the first to approach Kunikida, those few months back. It had been injured by a car and crawled its way into a cardboard box in this very alleyway. Kunikida had cleaned it up, and just like that, he'd had a new friend. It was named Nana, nine in Japanese, after the shape of its tail, which was bent at the top, like the Japanese kanji. Checking in on the alley cats had quickly become a new part of his schedule, something that he followed religiously. (Kunikida doesn't like obeying, doesn't like obedience, but this isn't the result of some authority figure pushing their judgment onto him; he trusts himself more than he does one of those, anyway.)
It crept out of its box, slinking closer.
Kunikida holds out a piece of tuna—the remnants of his last dinner, two days before. "Hello, there."
The alleyway was silent save for the quiet sounds of a tail swishing.
He reaches out a hand and waits. Nana inches forward—tentative, like a rat crawling out of a hole. It presses its face into his hand.
Kunikida smiles faintly. "You're a strange one, aren't you?"
The cat peers up at him—
And something moves out of the corner of his eye. Nana jumps up and leaves quickly, dashing for the exit.
Kunikida spins around, suddenly anxious, hands raised. It wasn't the first time he'd needed to fight someone in an alleyway—and then he pauses.
There was someone in the box behind him. A child, to be specific.
Its eyes remind him of the cat he had just been petting. Eyes that currently stare up at him from a hollowed face, painted with terror.
Kunikida frowns down at him—he has a clear enough view to assume that it's a him. "Hello? What are you doing here? A bit too young to be out on your own, don't you think?"
That was probably a little hypocritical. But, this child was even younger than he was, and obviously didn't know how to fend for himself. If Kunikida had to guess, he'd say he was around 10 or so.
Still, it is a child. A clearly starving child who might need his help. So he crouches down at eye level, softening his voice—as much as he knows how to—and says, "I don't have any real food with me, just raw tuna, but there's a restaurant near here. Would you like something to eat?"
Again, the kid doesn't speak, just stares up at Kunikida with those large, unblinking eyes. He suppresses a sigh.
And then—slowly, like someone might hurt him if he moved too fast—the kid gives a silent nod.
Kunikida gets up with a huff. "Well then? Follow me."
He does.
#bsd#bungo stray dogs#doppo kunikida#atsushi nakajima#bsd atsushi#bsd kunikida#bsd fanfic#fanfic#spreading my rebel kunikida agenda#THE SIBLINGS EVER !!#can you tell i loved the travelling cat chronicles#<- may actually be writing a ttcc inspired soukoku au
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Anon who was asking about increasing powers yesterday. I feel like its not so much not being able to choose freely that feels frustrating, as it is the current requirements for gaining powers. I don't mind having restrictions on being able to learn powers in concept, and I think having them be tied to the world and your characters actions/choices is a pretty neat idea, I just think the current implementation just isn't quite clicking with me.
The chapter 1 choices are somewhat better as I see the logic behind them. And while it's definitely a bit sad I can't always pick the combo of starting stat boost and background content I feel would best fit my character, it's not the biggest issue, not really that much of a bother.
Chapter 5 is really the where I have my issue. Basically, while I can see why allying with the relevant trainer would enable a character to increase a power they wouldn't necessarily be naturally inclined to, I think I'm failing to see the other half of the requirement, which is why a character who is more inclined to one of the powers couldn't improve that power on their own, so the requirement ends up feeling somewhat arbitrary.
There's also the element where it feels like another way the game is skewed in favor of less reluctant characters, since a reluctant character is far more likely to not make any alliances, and then just not get to increase a power in Chapter 5.
But knowing that I'm not totally locked out of path of the beast forever for not choosing to be a criminal or ally with Illya does make it somewhat less annoying, so thanks for the info.
I understand where you're coming from, but I'm not going to change my mind on this. Five years for a vampire to develop a new power is quick. If most vampires were doing that every 5 years, they'd be gods by the time they're 50.
But that's not the case. Lawrence Blackwell was 200ish when he fought the werewolves and he was only just able to give shadows form.
MC doesn't realise this, but if they have even one power by 5, they're a very impressive fledgling. Having two powers by that age is incredibly unusual and the only way I can see that happening is via rigorous training.
I also don't think reluctant vampires can't be allies and/or train with other vampires. You don't have to like being a vampire, or kill, or anything to get any of these allies. You just have to tell them that you'll stick up for them in court.
That said, I get it. Iliya is a bit of a prick when you first meet him, being a criminal isn't an easy pill to swallow, and I understand not wanting to engage in even the lowest level of politics... which means you will have to wait a little while longer to get super strength.
All that said, you don't actually need powers to play the game. I was even thinking of putting an achievement in for players who finish the game powerless.
Powers are get out of jail free cards and/or things that'll activate useful hints or flavour texts.
You'll end up in more sticky situations without powers (and the end game will be harder) but it's still totally doable.
Other choices matter more when it comes to actually changing the story. For example, what tribute you decide will pretty much determine the next couple of chapters.
I hope all of that makes sense. 💙
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Dante is COOL, let it be known!!!
(Desert of Dusk, Chapter 12 & 13 Reactions)
Exhibit B of Dante not getting enough credit + MY NEWFOUND NEED TO SKIN "NIGHT RAT" AND HIS CRONIES ALIVE
IT'S TIME TO D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-DUEL!!!!
Even when he's up against criminals, Dante's playing by their rules, which is goddamn admirable,
--BUT HOW DARE THESE BITCHES HURT OUR BOI?!?!?!?!
I WILL FIND THEM
......
2. Exhibit C of Dante not getting enough credit
.....Dante do be skillful as hell tho, even when he's injured! Look at him go! Fuck 'em up, Dante!!!
3. The Duality of Dante: Always craving praise, but feels shy when he gets sincere compliments :) ♡
He is so cute!!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡
4. Exhibit D of Dante not getting enough credit
Ouch, my Feels.....
I feel like all of us are so distracted by how silly and fun to tease Dante is, we forget just how much he carries on his shoulders....♡
5. Ohhhhh shit! IT'S TIME TO D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-DUEL (again)!!!!
I'm sure he'll win the duel, but I REALLY hope he successfully gets the elemental spirits of fire to bless the town!!! It'll be really awkward if it doesn't work...
7. JRNSBKSDFEAASMR!?!??!#?!@&!???!!!??!!!
Lemme tell you, I was NOT expecting the rare appearance of Smooth Dante, but it is a welcome surprise! :D
That wink tho... HOT DAMN!
I Can't wait to watch the finale later!
٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- ♡♡♡
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