#can ghosts wear clothes?? idk this one can | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starsofang · 4 months ago

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CALL OF THE SEA / PART TEN

pirate poly!141 x reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, brief mentions of death/blood, gaz being a little shit, foreshadowing idk but we gettin into it masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

“You need new clothes.”

You glanced down at the loose fabrics swallowing your body.

You’d grown a routine of wearing various pieces of the men’s clothing apart from Ghost, given that your own clothes weren’t much to wear at all. They were old and dirtied, practically useless against the changing seasons of the chill that began to shift in the wind.

“We’ve got to stop on the Mainland, gather a few things for travels,” Gaz continued, eyeing the lousy clothes. “Would you like to shop for somethin’ new?”

“Really?” you asked bashfully.

It would be nice to have something of your own, something that was yours. While you weren’t doused in riches and gold back in your village, you had clothing that was to your own comfort and liking.

Men’s clothing was itchier than you liked, even with finer cotton.

“‘Course,” he assured with a warm smile. “Not that it’s not a bit humorous seein’ you wear our clothes for the time bein’, but I’m gettin’ sick of washin’ double the clothes.”

You smiled back at him, feeling a comforting warm burn through you. Gaz may have had his reservations in the beginning, but he was certainly becoming the most welcoming.

At the start, you thought he was cold, just as the rest of them. He was crude with the way he spoke, voice full of venom whenever he’d spoken to you, which was rare. Now, there was an underlying comfort, as if he felt the need to watch over you.

It wasn’t unwelcome, and was rather preferred. If you were going to be willed into this life of deadly chaos by no choice but Price’s own, then having somebody watching your back was certainly something you wouldn’t refuse.

“Clothes would be nice,” you sighed. “Thank you, Gaz.”

“No need,” he dismissed with a hand. “Consider it a loan. I get you new clothes, you owe me next time.”

“Next time?” You deflated, shoulders dropping. “I have no money to return to you, Gaz. Nor anything of consistency.”

Gaz laughed lightly, a hearty laugh that you always found contagious. It was full of life, lovely even.

The brief memory of him mentioning being a prince in his previous years always seemed to make its way back into your mind when you heard it. It wasn’t loud or boisterous like Soap’s, nor quiet and gruff like Price’s. There was a something more proper, more articulated when he laughed.

“You expect clothes for free, dove?” he teased. “I may be a gentleman in practice, but I’m still a pirate. Perhaps we can come up with a negotiation.”

“I have never been good with those,” you confessed with a heavy sigh.

“Mm. Let me think, then.” Gaz’s finger tapped mindlessly at his bottom lip, eyes narrowed in false concentration. As if a light bulb popped in his head, he snapped his fingers, pointing at you. “I will gift you coins for clothes as well as a few for our agreement. Once we’re on the Mainland, you go off and find me somethin’ I’ll like. If I don’t like it, then you must owe me for the clothes.”

You gawked at him, eyebrows furrowing. Gaz only smiled at you cheekily, a glint of playfulness in his eyes.

“That sounds less like a negotiation and more of a game that I am bound to lose,” you said flatly. He snickered.

“C’mon, birdie. Don’t you like games? Everyone does.” He leaned in close as if to mock you, hunching down to your level. You could feel his warm breath fan over your nose and cheeks.

The sudden proximity made you tighten up at the abruptness, taking a step back. His eyes flickered to your feet before back up at you. Something mischievous oozed from him, and it felt like Soap was the one teasing you rather than Gaz.

Why were you so flustered? Was it due to the absence of light-hearted mockery that you’ve now forgotten what it felt like?

“Okay, okay. I will find you the most brilliant gift on the Mainland,” you bragged, attempting to come off aloof.

Gaz’s smile grew, though he didn’t step away from you. “Excellent.”

You watched as he finally moved, straightening up. He radiated a boyishness, one you didn’t see often, so you allowed him the advantage. The two of you were growing friends, or at least that’s how it felt. You didn’t want to lose that feeling.

“Don’t let her out of your sight,” Price ordered his men. He said it with such warning, as if you weren’t standing amongst them.

It made sense, though you felt like a child with a leash on. After all, the last time you joined them on the Mainland, you ended up in a heated game of hide and seek with the soldiers you so stupidly entrusted.

Ghost stood silent, eyes peering over the side of the ship and to the faint view of the bustling town sitting several hundred yards away. He seemed on edge, more than he normally was, but you could only tell so much from his stiff body language.

You followed his view, squinting. The Captain decided it was best to dock the ship on a farther pier, away from the crowd. Out of sight, out of mind. Nobody would notice them unless they went searching.

“Aye, Cap,” Soap and Gaz synchronized.

Price glanced at Ghost, who shifted his focus off of the land and to his Captain. He gave him a curt nod, and seeing that Price was satisfied, the five of you began to head off.

Ghost was in charge of you this time, much to your dismay. It was evident Price was still weary of you running off, and it seemed Ghost was his most trusted candidate for the job.

The walk towards the busy town was quiet apart from Soap and Gaz speaking quietly behind you. You tried to listen in, but it seemed Soap had a keen sixth sense because before you knew it, his hands cupped over your ears, shielding you from the chatter.

You could very faintly hear Gaz snickering, so you frowned to yourself, disappointed.

You always wondered what they all spoke about when you weren’t around. It always felt like there was this lingering whisper in the air that spoke a language you didn’t understand.

The maps, the poem, none of it made sense to you and nobody was offering answers. Even when you tried to shush it in your mind as it played on replay, it never quite left. It was always in the corner, waiting to return once things got too quiet.

Glancing at Ghost from beside you, he gave no indication of… anything, really. Even after all this time, he was still an impossible read. He stood tall as always, walked with an edge to him, and kept his eyes forward.

You’d never met somebody so confusing yet utterly frustrating at the same time. One moment, he gave you hopes of a bright future on the ship—getting along, finding solitude in one another, empathizing understanding.

Yet as quickly as those feelings would come, they’d be squashed with a mere glare. A burning fire. Something reserved.

You didn’t think he understood himself, either.

When you came to the bounds of the town, Price stopped you. He glanced up at the sky, eyes squinting at the brightness on his retinas, before looking back.

The sun blared down on you from directly above.

“Return here when the sun falls to the west. If anythin’ happens, and I mean anythin’,” he paused, meeting your eyes before shifting back to his men, “then you run back to the ship and signal the bell. Am I understood?”

You really hoped Ghost was good with directions, or at least had a compass. You weren’t sure how to read the time through the sun’s positions. It was never a necessity before when you knew that it was nighttime when the moon came out to play.

You looked back at the ship that was now in the distance. It floated mindlessly along the lapping waves, bobbing back and forth as if saying hello.

The men confirmed with Price. Just as you were about to join them as they trudged on forward, Price stopped you with an arm held out, blocking you from walking.

“You aren’t goin’ to run off on me again, are you?” he asked quietly, though there was that familiar touch of authority to his tone. It wasn’t malicious, but you knew the implications—he wanted to trust you.

“No, sir,” you assured with a shake of your head. Out of the corner of your eye, you dared to look at Ghost, who was impatiently waiting if the tapping of his fingers on his crossed arms meant anything. “I won’t do such a thing.”

The Captain kept his arm up for a moment so he could look at you. His eyes searched yours, so much so it made you flustered.

“Good.” He nodded. “Go along, then.”

He dropped his arm, letting it fall to his side. He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he simply cleared his throat and gave you a farewell with a nod.

You watched him leave, disappearing into the swarm of shopping townsfolk. Curiosity festered you like a tick, itching into your skin, but you knew it was best to leave it be for now.

“You comin’?”

Ghost snapped you out of your spell. You quickly came back to reality, offering a quick nod before jogging to catch up to him, sticking to him like glue as you entered the town.

It was loud and overwhelming as you followed Ghost around. He made haste with purchases which ranged from stock for food to new knives that glinted tauntingly at you in the light, all of which were shoved into the bag thrown on his shoulders.

You knew people were staring. Even if they were directed towards Ghost and his eccentric appearance, it felt like they were watching you for even being associated with him.

The whispers between women about it being scandalous, the chatter between men who felt imposing threat from Ghost merely standing there.

You didn’t know why, but a part of you felt more defensive than humiliated. Your image was one mocked for the entirety of your lifespan, but Ghost had done nothing to warrant it. Not to them, anyway. To you was a different story.

None of that mattered now, though. You were growing increasingly irritated at being looked upon like a circus act.

“Ignore it,” Ghost muttered. You almost didn’t quite catch it. “I can feel you gettin’ huffy.”

You scowled, crossing your arms and turning your head. Ghost paid you no mind, continuing to browse in the small shop you were in.

“I am not huffy,” you mumbled.

Ghost paused, turning his head towards you. He stared, eyes flickering over your face—first to your furrowed eyebrows, then to your narrowed eyes, then down to your lips tugged into a frown.

He snorted quietly through his nose, returning to his browsing.

The sound made you turn your head. Dare you say it sounded amused, though it could be your ears deceiving you.

You decided to ignore it. The last thing you wanted was to bring it up and have him reserve back to permanently scowling.

Ghost straightened up from the various knives he was looking at, uninterested. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder.

“Need anythin’?” he asked, sniffing.

You perked up, hand coming to rest on the small pouch resting on your hip. It contained the coins Gsz gifted you for clothing, as well as the surprise gift he requested of you.

Nothing came to mind on what to get him. You were clueless, and really didn’t want to owe him.

“Gaz was generous enough to give me coins to buy my own clothes,” you explained, shaking the pouch. Coins within the bag clanked together.

Ghost glanced down at the pouch. “I see,” he hummed, a touch of confusion in his words. Almost as if he was surprised.

He gestured with his head to follow him. The two of you left the quaint shop, stepping back out on to the dusty road. Ghost didn’t move from the entrance, and when you looked up at him, he was already looking at you.

A silent question. He was allowing you to make the choice on where to go.

Looking around, you realized you knew close to nothing about shopping for clothes. Not of these kind, anyway. You were used to the muted, colorless fabrics that never seemed to fit quite right.

You decided on a shop that displayed a variety of different clothes and colors in the windows. Some looked too delectable for your taste, and much too expensive, while some were more simple.

Stepping inside, the sight was positively overwhelming. Colors of all kinds lined the walls. Stuffed mannequins were pinned together with dresses.

Ghost seemed severely uncomfortable. You were elated. A taste of your own self was hidden somewhere within these walls, and you were going to find it.

“Go ahead,” Ghost gruffed from beside you. He shifted on his feet, eyes averting to nowhere. “Not my thing.”

You hummed in response, leaving to browse on your own accord. If Ghost didn’t seem to mind, then you wouldn’t rush yourself.

You took your time. You went through everything you can think of—greens, blues, purples, reds. None seem to fit you. Or more so, you wouldn’t fit with them.

Neutrals were their friends. Browns, grays, anything above the stars. So, naturally, that’s what you went for. Something to fit in and not stand out. You were facing that enough as is.

Once you focused your preference, you found quite a few options and went with what felt best.

Ghost watched you with muted curiosity as you fluttered around the store with a heap of clothes in your arms. He only looked away once he was caught.

As you were about to call your search a success, a glint of gold in the corner of your eye caught your attention. A beautiful miniature telescope sat locked away in a glass case, made from dark wood and detailed with an exquisite gold design.

The sight of it instantly reeled you in.

It was the perfect gift for Gaz. You came to learn that he had a love for the moon and stars, often leaving the room late at night to ponder beneath them. You knew you wouldn’t lose your game if you got it for him.

The only issue was that the price was hefty.

You looked down at your strew of clothes, contemplating. The coins in your pouch would be enough for your clothes, but not for the telescope as well.

The telescope called out to you, like a secret siren’s song pulling you into captivity. It chose you, and you chose it back.

Ultimately, you graciously returned some of the fabrics back to their original areas, leaving them tidy and neat. You approached Ghost with nothing more than a few clothings items, enough to get you by.

You were never materialistic anyway.

Ghost stood, silently observing but feigning disinterest as you made the big purchase for your clothes, then requested the telescope. He made no comment, eyes following your every move as you emptied the contents of your pouch, the coins clanking along the counter.

The merchant was happy to sell it to you, claiming that nobody seemed interested. You were pleased to hear that, and with a quick and easy exchange, the clothes and telescope were yours, placed carefully into Ghost’s bag.

“Is that it, then?” Ghost huffed, shifting the weight of the bag on his shoulder.

You nodded, satisfied with your purchases as you set off along the old roads to return to the rest of the crew.

As you walked, your eyes ventured along the way, taking in the varying crowds. Some mothers, some fathers, some alone on their own journeys. None paid you any mind.

Until one did.

A man. Not as tall as your crew, but certainly as threatening. His entire aura would be misty black if it was visible to the naked eye. His hair was a cropped mess on his head, brown like the dirt beneath your shoes.

His skin was scarred and tainted, dark eyes piercing into you. Even from a distance, you feared you’d combust into a bloodied, explosive mess just from the sheer look he gave you.

The worst was his smile. Cocky. Arrogant. Evil.

If death were a man, this would be its vessel.

His lips were moving, though you couldn’t hear him. He was too far away. It wasn’t until the wind bristled, rising goosebumps along your skin did you hear it. His voice traveled along the breeze until it whisked to your ears, flooding through.

“I’ll be seeing you, dove.”

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sugawhaaa · 28 days ago

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May I request a Yeosang X reader winter theme smut? Maybe if you don't mind include squrting fingerings and creampies? If you is okay with it

YEOSANG ONE-SHOT

☕️•Cold cocoa•☕️

Warnings//genre:: SMUT, fingering, handjob, creampie, pet names, praise, lil degradation

Pairing:: switch!yeosang x switch!fem!reader

A/N:: idk what to really say abt this fanfic...uhm merry Christmas yall

Taglist:: @annafeebou

🎧::

After a pretty heavy snow throughout the day Yeosang wanted to take you on an evening walk on a nearby trail to admire the snow and such. It was one of those still snow days, no wind, so all the snow stayed on the tree branches adding to the wintery vibe.

The entire time Yeosang held your hand though he was wearing mits so he wasn't holding your hand for warmth, just comfort. You noticed Yeosang was rather cuddly and clinging, very unusual for him, and it kind of set off some signals in your head. "Are you feeling alright?" You ask abruptly and Yeosang turns to you.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm good," he smiles sincerely but something deep down tells you something is on his mind. You continue your walk seeing some birds and friendly critters before heading home. You shook off your snow gear and began to prepare hot chocolate which Yeosang was excited for. Once again, yeosang clings to you.

Yeosang comes up behind you while you prepare the hot chocolate, his hands tightly but slowly wrapping around your waist; he pulls you close and nuzzles his face into the back of your shoulder. He began to kiss your neck softly and you let out a soft gasp.

"Yeosang what's with you today?" You chuckle softly as he pushes you closer to the counter.

"I missed my baby," he says between kisses. As you stir the hot cocoa Yeosang nibbles down on your skin, making you moan softly. "I don't know how much longer I can wait," he groans as he bucks his hips against your ass, his boner rubbing up against you. You gasp before biting your lip. Yeosangs hands trail down to the waistband of your pants, clawing and needing at it. "Please baby, say yes," he whimpers into your ear and you sigh softly.

"Yeah you got me," you chuckle. "Take the wheel, baby," you smile and Yeosang jumps back before lifting you into his arms effortlessly. He brings you out to the living room, setting you down on the couch in front of the fireplace. "What do you have in mind?" You ask curiously and you feel Yeosangs cold fingers run up your shirt, making you instinctively moan.

"Maybe warm you up from the inside?" He smirks shyly. He was clearly trying to be suggestive and seductive but sometimes his shyness creeps out. You assist him in undressing you and once you're clean of clothing he sits down beside you on the sofa and gently prys your legs open, pulling one of your thighs closer to him. His fingers were cold against your warm skin but you kind of enjoyed it.

He then trailed his fingers up your thigh, ghosting over your skin, as you moaned and whined. He was a master at teasing and getting you all wet and ready but it drove you insane. His fingers finally danced over your sensitive skin, gently rubbing your clit with his cold fingers. The stark contrast of temperature makes you jump.

Yeosang kisses your jaw softly before whispering a little praise. "You're so pretty babygirl," he says in a low tone. He trails his fingers back down, teasing your entrance with his cold fingertips before gently pushing his middle finger inside you. He smirks as he watches you moan. Your pussy reflexively tightens around the cold intrusion and Yeosang grins. "You're so tight," he teases.

"And your fingers are so cold," you whine and Yeosang laughs softly.

"I know, but you love it don't you?" He rubs his finger deeper inside you, rubbing against that plush spot hidden deep. You let out a choked moan and he smirks. Yeosang knows everything about your body, where and how to make it hurt, make your head spin, squirt, cry and so on. He knows your body in and out by now. He quickly inserts another finger before bringing his thumb up to rub your clit as well. Your knees jerk up with a little whine.

He begins to thrust his fingers into you at a rather rough and fast tempo. You throw your head back and grab onto his shirt.

"You never give me time to adjust do you?" You whine as you feel the knot in your stomach already twisting up.

"And it always makes you cum harder, no?" He grins as he leans closer to you, his fingers never losing their pace. Suddenly you feel a change in your gut at his tactics. Was he hitting deeper? Going faster? Or perhaps it was his persistence, but something he was doing made your head spin.

"Y-Yeosang?" You whimper and he tilts his head looking at you.

"Yes, babygirl?" He moves his fingers faster and harder, making you squeal. He already knew what you were experiencing and he was excited as all hell.

"I-I feel I-Im," you throw your head back, your eyes following, as your back arches. "Yes, yes," you whimper and Yeosang grins.

"Let it out baby," he cooes as your vision blurs and your body hears up in a surge of pleasure. As your body goes numb with pleasure you feel warm liquid spurting out from your pussy. Yeosang rubs your clit and folds with the flat of his fingers as your juices spray out across the floor. Yeosang knows this sensation can be a little overwhelming so he doesn't say much, just easing you out of the high and once you're finally sedated he begins to praise you. "You did so good babygirl, making such a mess," he smiles before kissing you softly.

"That was intense," you chuckle and Yeosang tucks back your hair.

"I'm sure it was," he quickly fetches you a cup of water to help you recharge. "You want to keep going or cut it off here?" He asks warmly as he watches you relax again. You shake your head.

"I wanna keep going," you smile before setting the cup down on the table stand by the couch. "I want to repay you," you nod, and Yeosang blushes.

"As you wish, but you know you don't have to," he shifts to lay back against the couch, no longer facing you.

"I know but I want to," you smile as you now turn to face him. You undo his pants and gently tug them down along with his boxers finally letting him free. He tosses his head back with a groan as the cold air hits his cock. You gently wrap your hand around his cock, holding it sturdily.

"Your hands always feel so nice," he moans with a light smirk. You begin to gently massage his cock, not jerking, but rubbing those sweet spots and massaging his tip though he really didn't need any more blood flow there, already rock hard. He bites his lip between sighs and gasps as you toy with him. "Please stop teasing me," he pleads and you consider his offer. In the end, you decided to begin to slowly jerk him off, the sound of his precum sticking to your palm echoing in the room. "Shit, yes," he chuckles lowly before moaning.

His hips buck up shakily into your hand, aching to be closer to you or perhaps closer to cumming. "B-Babe," he breathes out shakily and you turn to him.

"Yes, darling?" You say coyly and he chuckles lowly, very aware of that teasing tone.

"I'm close," he whimpers lowly and you jerk him off harder, your fist slapping down into his pelvis. He lets out a broken cry of pleasure at the speed and intensity of your torture. His back arches up off the couch and you slow down your hand. "Ah, fuck, why do you always do that~" he whines pathetically and you smirk.

"Because it's so fun hearing you whine and beg like a baby," you smirk and he growls.

"That's not-" you cut him off by moving your hand faster again, causing his jaw to lock open and eyes to water. "Damn!" He cries out as he fists his own hair. "I-I'm gonna cum," he chokes out and this time you let him reach that peak, no longer holding him down. His legs tremble as his body curls forward in pleasure. He rests against the couch panting as his cum soaks into your hand.

"Big load," you smirk and he scowls at you but he's too tired to reply, just resting back against the couch. You grab the cup of water from earlier and hand it to him with a smile. He gratefully takes it but not without saying "You're gonna be the one needing this when I'm done with you," he smirks before chugging some water. "Alright baby, you riding me or am I fucking you into the cushions? Up to you," he smirks with that little gleam in his eyes that says 'either way you don't have a way out of this'. He probably wants payback for that slightly delayed orgasm.

"The cushions could you some company," you smile and Yeosang chuckles. He tosses off his shirt lifts you up off the couch by your hips.

"This way babe," he guides you to the arm of the couch and you look back at him.

"Really?" You arch a brow and he smiles.

"Yup! Bend over," he puts a hand on your back as he gently pushes you over the armrest. "I wanna fuck you so deep," he mumbles but he's loud enough that you hear him. He quickly lines his cock up with the slit of your cunt before nudging it in a bit. You whimper softly.

"Cmon put it in already," you whine and Yeosang laughs.

"Impatient," he kisses the back of your neck softly before jolting his hips forward, his length fully buried inside you. You lean forward with a cry and Yeosang chuckles darkly behind you. He doesn't wait for you to adjust before pounding into you, making your eyes roll back.

"God damn Yeosang," you moan and he smirks.

"Too much for you to handle?" He teases, leaning down closer to you.

"Never," you chuckle and he brings a hand around to the front of you, holding your jaw, and his fingers dip into your mouth slightly, feeling the wet warmth; a similar texture to the feeling around his cock.

"That's right, you take me so good," he smirks as he growls in your ear, his hips never faltering. His cock squeezed past your walls so nicely it made your head spin and butterflies twirl in your stomach. "Gonna fill you up so sweetly," he groans as he goes faster, which you didn't think was possible.

"Yeosang!" You cry out, your speech sloppy because of the fingers in your mouth. Your head falls but Yeosang quickly holds it up.

"Hm? Something wrong babygirl?" He teases and you whimper.

"I-I feel close," you admit shyly, not wanting to cum so early.

"Is that right? Well then..." he starts slamming into you so hard that the couch shifts with each powerful thrust and your cunt is quick to shatter from the harshness. With a final thrust, he releases inside you, simultaneously. He lets your head go, falling down and panting, sweat building along your face. "You did good baby," he rubs your waist softly and pulls out, watching the cream ooze from your pussy. "So good," he kisses your back before getting you to sit on the couch. "Here have a drink," he offers you the cup again before fetching some towels to clean up your mess.

As he grabs the cloths you see the two cups of hot cocoa on the kitchen table.

"Oh I forgot about those," you say as Yeosang walks back into the living room.

"Oh yeah...they must've gone cold by now," he chuckles before wiping up the liquid on the floor. "We can microwave them," he smiles at you warmly, making your heart flutter.

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #ateez requests #ateez reaction #ateez hard asks #yeosang x reader #kang yeosang #yeosang smut #ateez yeosang #yeosang

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bunnygirllover45 · 1 month ago

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Hii!! I’m kinda obsessing over the Idea of Johann before he kidnapped his darling, going out to buy clothes and him just enjoying it WAY more than Darling. Like bro’s INTO it, picking out dresses and making darling do a fashion show for him?? Just wanted to put this thought out there lol. Idk if he’d actually do that but I can dream,,,, Anyways that’s all— thank you!!!!

Anon you're into some shit rn and I totally agree with you. Johann would do that 100%. TW: Darling had a past relationship that wasn't too nice, mentions of body insecurity, hints of dollification but it's Johann who are we talking about this is obvious by now.

Your past relationship before Johann wasn't the best, you weren't used to him buying you stuff so carelessly or taking you every other day. At first, it was a little hard to get accustomed to the sudden change, but eventually, you started to like it. Except for the part where you and he had to go to the clothing store. Each time Johann stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of a date to point at a cute outfit sitting in the window of a random store, a part of you internally screamed for him not to drag you inside.

Speaking about that— "You like these? These frills might be itchy on your skin though..." —yes, you were trapped inside another store again. Taking in a deep breath you stared at Johann, then at the dress he was holding. No matter how often you told him you either didn't like this style of clothing or that it wouldn't look good in it, he still made you buy and wear the stuff. Of course, he only made you wear it when both of you were alone, there's no way he'd let you look this adorable in front of someone else.

You wondered how many more clothes he could buy you, after all, even if Johann made sure to visit you almost every day, his job kept him from being with you all the time. Most of the time he kept some of the clothes in his house too, he had a 'special place for them', out of context that phrase could be worrying, but Johann was such a sweetheart behind that stoic exterior that you didn't really question it. As he grabbed another piece of clothing you shot your hands to grab his forearm, squeezing softly as you smiled up to him. "J-Johann, I don't think I'd look good on that. I have many dresses back at home too, you shouldn't buy mo—" But before you could even finish you felt Johann leaning down to whisper against your ear, his voice soft and secretive. "I think you'd look good in anything." the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "I've always wanted to take care of someone as precious as you, would you let me do that?" There was serious longing in his voice. From all the past experiences you had with him, you clearly noticed that ache to fulfill a role that Johann always had. Taking care of you during dates, making sure you didn't get sick, and even aftercare with him was a blissful experience. All the things he told you about feeling empty and without a purpose in life, it's like a part of him has been waiting all this time to have this, to have you. You stood stunned, questioning if you should feel even more embarrassed or prideful, he looked at you with an adoration written in his eyes that made you shiver, and you felt a little guilty at how much you enjoyed it. "Here, we can buy these and try them out at home, how does that sound?" You nodded, giving him a compliant smile as you reached to hug his arm. "Okay... thank you." One hand snaked its way around your waist, squeezing slightly as he kissed you on the top of the head, nuzzling against it. "You're welcome, baby."

#johann the bastard #male yandere #yandere #yandere oc #chrona... answers things?

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simonrileysfavteacup · 10 months ago

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The Scare (Alternate Ending)

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gf!reader

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: Angst, kidnapping, torture, descriptions of blood n torture, comfort, simon in ghost mode, idk what else

Summary: No summary ;) have fun

Everyone knew Lieutenant Riley was cold. He was ruthless, cruel, heartless, and so much more.

But there was one thing that made him soft. One person.

You.

Barely anyone knew that the Lieutenant had picked himself up a hot little thing and managed to keep her. The two of you had been together for 3 years now and he was so close to proposing. He was ready to spend his life with you. He was ready to make you his and give you his last name.

But what happens when someone who shouldn’t know about you finds out about you?

***

Graves knew. Somehow he knew. He mentioned your name to Simon, “Ghost, that is not nice. How would your pretty little (Y/N) think of that?”

Simon shivered.

And then he realised.

Graves was coming for you.

***

You were curled up in bed, music playing in the background as you read one of your favourite romance books Simon had bought you. The lights were off, a single three-wick Bath and Body Works candle on your bedside table. It was peaceful. Cosy.

You were on the 15th chapter before you head footsteps and your front door opening.

Simon isn’t supposed to be home yet.

You check your phone.

Simon would’ve messaged if he was coming home.

There was no message. And he wouldn’t surprise you like this.

You sit up, turning off the music. The footsteps are doubled. There’s two people.

Simon wouldn’t come home with someone else. This wasn’t Simon walking around your apartment.

With trembling hands, you reach for Simon’s hidden knife, concealed under his side of the bed. You clutch in it a sweaty palm, silent praying that the person walking around your apartment is a friend, not a foe. The footsteps get closer. You take a deep breath.

The doorknob jiggles. Your anxiety skyrockets. There’s murmurs before a foot hits the door.

1 kick…

2 kicks…

3 kicks before the door finally busts open, shattering the lock. 2 men, dressed in black military uniform, hold up their guns to aim for your head. You suck in a breath.

“That her?” The first man asks.

“Think so. She fits the description,” the other one responds.

You shiver. They barely acknowledge you as they speak.

One of them steps closer to you, reaching for the knife in your hand. You strike, stabbing his wrist through the jacket he wears. He yells, “Bitch stabbed me!”

He pushes you, reaching down to grab his wrist, pulling out the knife. The other one walks over while you’re distracted, talking a hold of your arms and tying them behind your back. You yell before you hear the sound of duct tape ripping. Within seconds, there’s a piece over your mouth. You try to yell. No use.

They begin to speak to each other fast, so fast you can barely catch their words.

Help me…

The one you stabbed wraps up his wrist with a cloth, before picking up your legs. The other picks up your torso.

You thrash around in their arms, trying to get free as you kick the one you stabbed, He holds your feet together with one hand, barking out a quick, “Stop it!”

He has an American accent, you notice. They carry you out of your bedroom as you continue to thrash around. The front door comes into view. They have no care whatsoever, with you hitting your head on the wall. Black dots appear in your vision, slowly taking you out of consciousness.

***

Simon stepped into the apartment the two of you shared, praying he wasn’t too late.

The apartment was silent.

The first bad sign.

He walks towards your bedroom, the door wide open.

The second bad sign.

The bed was empty, your candle was still lit, and your book was closed on your bed.

With no bookmark.

The third bad sign.

He was too late. He knew he was too late.

***

2 weeks.

16 days.

16 nights you slept.

24 hours you counted every day.

16 days you slept uneasy.

Counting down the minutes until Simon would finally find you.

At least, you hoped he would.

The men brought you to what seemed like an old warehouse, locking you up in a dark grey rooms. 4 grey walls stared back at you. One little cot in the corner of the room, on the opposite wall, a door. A door you were dragged through every day to be taken to the room you were tortured in every day. They always asked the same questions.

And they were all about Simon.

You said nothing, of course. How could you betray him like that? He protects you, you protect him.

Even if it meant the bruises on your arms would keep coming, the cuts on your back wouldn’t stop bleeding, the grumbling in your stomach wouldn’t stop getting louder, and the pain would just grow.

You were willing to take it all for him. He was worth it.

You stare up at the grey ceiling above you, sighing as you lay on the cot, silently praying that wherever Simon is, he’s safe, he’s eaten, and he’s healthy. And he’s looking for you.

You know he probably is. He loves you. He tells you all the time that you’re his whole world.

But a part of you can’t help but think that he isn’t coming. You know it’s a lie, Simon would never leave you. Especially when you know he loves you.

You silently pray. And pray.

Until the grey fades away and the black of sleep takes over.

***

On the morning of the 17th day, you woke up to gunshots. You shivered. Gunshots always meant bad things. At least, that’s what Simon says.

You stand on shaky legs before getting down, sitting with your knees to your chest. Footsteps make their way closer to your room. Your anxiety skyrockets. The door flies open.

On instinct, you crawl backwards, in fear. A hand reaches out to you.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” you cry.

“’s me, lovie! ’s me! ’s okay! You’re okay…’s jus’ me. ’s me, lovie…”

You know that voice. You know that accent. You know that way of not pronouncing ‘t’s.

Simon.

You peer your eyes open, to be met with a skull mask looking back at you. Acting on instinct, you throw your arms around him, letting out a loud sob of relief. His arms tighten, holding your body against him. He strokes your hair softly.

“Prove it,” you whisper.

“Prove what, lovie?”

“Prove that you’re Simon…I can’t trust anyone right now…” you reply shakily. He nods, taking off his mask. “Si…” You shake your head. “Not enough…”

“You hate the smell of ketchup. You can’t stand vinegar in any of your food. You always light candles when you read. You forgive, but you never forget. You like chocolate and strawberry ice cream, but you can’t stand chocolate-covered strawberries. You love ‘The Rookie’, even though it’s inaccurate and it sucks. You need more?” he rambles.

You giggle softly through the tears in your eyes, curling into him once more.

“‘m here, ‘m here, I promise. ‘M not leavin’ you. Gonna take you home,” he smiles at you, still holding you against him. His eyes drift down to the bruises and the cuts and the dried blood on your arms. You notice his eyes, the soft glint in them gone, replaced by an angry look. He presses a finger into his ears. “Johnny, don’ spare any o’ them.”

You blink a few times to process his words but snuggle closer to him as he speaks to Johnny. He takes off his jacket, wrapping you in it. He holds you there for what seems like hours, though it’s merely 10 minutes. A sigh escapes his lips as he stands up, heading out of the room you’re both in. He keeps your head cradled against him, shielding you from the battle going on outside.

He takes you onto a jet, a military one, you recognize. He sets you down on a seat, sitting next to you, holding onto you. “Simon…” his name escapes your lips as a whisper, your eyes starting to close again.

“Keep ‘em open, please. Lovie, I need t’ know you're still conscious. Please, keep ‘em open,” his free hand caresses your face. “Just a little longer, I promise.”

“Trying,” you respond. He smiles, continuing to play with my hair. “Hey Si?”

“Hmm?” He hums.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, lovie.”

#ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #ghost imagine #ghost cod #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley fluff #ghost #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader

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reidmania · 4 months ago

Text

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter four, motion sickness)

'I hate you for what you did and I miss you like a little kid. i faked it every time but that's alright. i can hardly feel anything, i hardly feel anything at all, I have emotional motion sickness somebody roll the windows down, there are no words in the english language, i could scream to drown you out'

summary; you never had someone make you feel safe enough to open up, until spencer. now trying to cope with his sudden absence you learn to lean on your new found friendship with his coworker, penelope.

warnings; fem reader, mentions of bad relationships, ghosting, commitment issues, self doubt & overthinking, preettyy angsty idk guys, no comfort yet but there is some fluff, and theres penelope & reader friendship!! reader lowkey shit talks spencer but he deserves it. reader is embarrassed & upset. reader is lowkey really mean, but shes coping guys. i think this is my favourite chapter out of all of them.

2.3k words

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea a @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules

SERIES MASTERLIST

The lights are low, casting a soft, warm glow on the room, making it feel almost too cozy for the storm of emotions swirling inside of you. Penelope sits across from you on the other side of the coffee table, her vibrant personality seeming muted for once. She’s not wearing her usual bright colors, just a simple oversized shirt and pajama pants, the kind of clothes that scream comfort. It fits the night. It fits the conversation.

“You want to talk about it?” Penelope asks, voice gentle, but still full of that spark of energy that only she has. There’s no judgment there. Her eyes made you believe there never would be.

Your fingers tug absentmindedly at a loose thread on the hem of your sweatpants, the silence stretching between you like an invisible barrier. But it’s not an uncomfortable silence. Penelope doesn’t push. She doesn’t know you well enough to push. You’re not sure how to start, not sure how to talk about something you’re still struggling to process.

The night had consisted of making cookies, watching sickeningly sweet romance films you both gushed over — there were numerous times you had to stop your mind from drifting to Spencer, and when it did, you felt a sickening ache in your stomach. For the most part, besides those moments where the room fell quiet and your mind drifted, the night had been great.

“He just... stopped,” you whisper, voice barely audible, but Penelope catches it. Her eyes soften, and she leans forward slightly, offering silent encouragement for you to continue. "One day, Spencer was there, and the next... he wasn't. Theoretically of course..”

Spencer was different to anyone else you met, or at least he seemed that way. You thought he understood you. The way he listened, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way he made you feel like you could breathe around him. No one had ever done that for you before. But then, when things had started getting real—when you both were on the verge of making it official—he disappeared. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it was a commitment issue thing. Or if he really just had been playing with you the entire time.

“I don’t understand why,” you continue, the words tumbling out faster now, as if saying them out loud will make them make sense. “One day, we were close. He’d text me every morning. He’d ask how I was feeling, what I was doing. He made me feel… seen. Like he actually cared. And then, nothing. No calls, no messages. He just—”

“Ghosted you?” Penelope finishes for you, and the bluntness of the term hits you harder than you thought it would. You nod, feeling the sting of it all over again.

“He just disappeared,” you say, the words coming out harsh, jagged. You laugh bitterly, but there’s no humor in it. “Like I wasn’t even worth an explanation.”

Penelope’s hand reaches across the table, her fingers curling around yours in a comforting squeeze. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just lets you sit with the weight of your own pain. But her presence, her warmth, makes it feel a little less suffocating.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Spencer… he’s complicated. I don’t know why he did this to you, but I can tell you for sure, it’s not your fault. It never was.”

You close your eyes for a second, trying to swallow down the hurt, but it lingers there, a dull ache that refuses to fade. It’s not just about Spencer ghosting you; it’s about all the hope you had pinned on him. You thought he was different, thought he could be the person who made you feel safe in a way you had never felt before.

You couldn’t help the embarrassment you felt, all you had been thinking about for days was ‘how could i be so stupid.’ You had your guard up for a reason. You didn’t date for a reason, and the fact that you had let him let you forget that. You were so mad at yourself.

You missed Spencer more than you were willing to admit. Sleep evades you, and when it comes, it’s restless—haunted by the ghost of his touch. Your limbs grew weary, not from movement but from the effort of carrying the silence he left behind.

Your lips twitch into a bitter smile. “Yeah, well, maybe that’s on me. I was stupid for thinking it would be different.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Penelope says firmly, her voice suddenly fierce in a way that surprises you. “No. You were not stupid. You opened up because he made you feel like you could, and that’s on him, not you. He gave you the signals. He made the promises, and then he broke them. Spencer—he’s got his issues. He’s been through a lot, but that doesn’t excuse what he did to you. You deserved better.”

You pull your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly as Penelope’s words sink in. It’s hard to believe that sometimes, that you deserved better. Spencer had made you feel like you could finally let your guard down, but in the end, it just made the hurt cut deeper. — Maybe thats all you’d ever deserve.

“He made me feel safe,” you admit, your voice breaking slightly. “Which i know sounds stupid— But— I don’t know.. I trusted him.”

“And then he took that away,” Penelope finishes, her voice softening again, filled with understanding. “It’s okay to be hurt. It’s okay to be angry. You opened up to him because you trusted him, and he didn’t treat that trust the way he should have.”

You nod, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay. You hadn’t wanted to cry tonight. You hadn’t wanted to break down. But being here with Penelope, his friend, his co-worker, who was so sweet and so understanding, it’s harder to keep everything bottled up.

“I just don’t get it,” you say, voice shaking. “Why would he make me feel like I mattered, like we were something, and then just leave?”

Penelope sighs, leaning back against the couch. “Spencer’s not great at dealing with his emotions,” she explains gently. “He’s always in his head, analyzing things, trying to make sense of the world. But feelings aren’t always logical. And sometimes… sometimes he runs from things he can’t control.”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Well, he sure ran fast.”

Penelope gives you a sad smile, squeezing your hand again. “I know it doesn’t make it easier, but sometimes people can care about you and still hurt you. It doesn’t mean what you had wasn’t real. It just means he is an idiot.”

You stare down at your hands, the weight of her words settling on your shoulders. Maybe she’s right. Maybe Spencer did care about you in his own way, but that didn’t change the fact that he left you when you needed him most. It didn’t change the fact that you were still trying to pick up the pieces of your heart while he was nowhere to be found.

“I mean, he’s so damn smart, right? So.. So smart, always figuring things out. But apparently, figuring out how to treat people isn’t part of his skill set.”

Penelope chuckles softly, though there’s no real humor in it. “Yeah, sometimes Spencer’s great at solving every problem except the ones that really matter.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” you mutter, shaking your head. The frustration still courses through your veins, and you grip the fabric of your pants tightly, trying to channel it somewhere, anywhere. “I’m not going to sit around waiting for some half-assed explanation either. If he wanted to tell me why he bailed, he would have.”

She nodded her head. “He is dumb.” She said.

A laugh passed through your lips as you nodded quickly in agreement. “How is he so smart — and sweet yet such a fucking coward? I’m so pissed that he couldn’t even end things in person — that he didn’t even say anything.” You ran your hands down your face.

Penelope smiled. Maybe you were being mean in order to deflect from the hurt in your heart and the way your brain fizzled with an overwhelming ache for the comfort of Spencer. “Are you sure you don’t want me to ask him about it?” She asked.

You were quick to shake your head. While you were desperate for an answer of what you could have possibly done — you weren’t desperate enough to go through his friends to get an answer. You refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing you cared so much. “No. No- Please don’t— Does he even know we have been talking?” Penelope was quick to shake her head with a grin.

“Nope! I haven’t said anything to him.. I sent a photo to JJ earlier of your bobble head collection, but I highly doubt she would’ve just shown Spencer?” She mumbled, shrugging her shoulders slightly. The words made you frown, yet glad. You didn’t care about Penelope sharing your silly bobble head collection, it was something you were very proud of.

“I don’t really care if he knows. Is it bad I hope he is really mad? Like I hope he is really really pissed off about it. Is that petty?” You tumbled out the questions as your mind swirled. You hoped he was mad because at least then in some way maybe you could believe he cared.

“Yes. Definitely petty.” Penelope nodded, a playful smile on her face. “But— If anyone has a right to be petty, it’s you.. You’re handing this better than I would. i’d want to egg his house.” She shrugged, the words made a string of laughter leave your lips.

“I really really do want to” You said honestly, “maybe then he would have to say something” It was silly, but it would lie to say the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. It was childish, and immature and so petty, but leaving someone with no explanation was also just as childish and immature so in your head, it evened out.

“I reckon he would start crying” Penelope giggled.

“God I hope so.” you huffed out, running your hands through your hair before a small smile made way onto your lips as you looked up at the blonde women. The last thing you expected was to get along so quickly with the girl. You had expected it to be awkward between the two of you, but it wasn’t. You two spent hours watching silly chick-flics and laughing, before this conversation even started.

“Thank you- by the way. For this” you mumbled, referring to her just being there. She didn’t have to. She didn’t know you, she didn’t owe you anything, she was Spencer’s friend, not yours.

Penelope grinned widely, “Don’t thank me. I love boy genius but he can be such a tool sometimes without even realising it. He fucked up and you need somebody, plus who else would make sugar cookies with me?” She teased.

You curled up by Penelope’s side, smiling at her gently. You really were grateful. “Speaking of sugar cookies, do you think we could frost them yet?”

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envy-of-the-apple · 7 months ago

Note

ok i like the idea of reader going to shoko thinking she’s normal physician (not knowing she only works for sorcerers) and asks for a checkup. one thing leads to another and reader has to continue meeting her for ‘check-up’s’ frequently…..

how does it feel to be the smartest person in the room bestie????

@mynahx3 hiiiiiiiiii<3

Trust the Professionals

Dark!Ieiri Shoko x reader

Synopsis: Doctor Ieiri has a new treatment she’s eager to try on you

Word count: 2.2k

(Warnings: Dubcon/noncon, manipulation, vaginal fingering, dark content, mc's kinda dumb, self-gaslighting lmaooo, hospital kink? im pretty sure this is some type of kink but idk whats its called)

For the longest time, you never really believed in ghosts.

You weren't really the religious type. You went to church every so often, but you weren't invested. It's why it took you a while to get around to the idea that spirits were real, and one was particularly attached to you.

Luckily, the Shamans always seemed happy to help.

"It's back again, huh?" Doctor Ieiri asked.

You nodded, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. She doesn't look like a Shaman. You were expecting more bells and bracelets. Traditional clothing. Doctor Ieiri was always dressed in a labcoat, professional makeup that did little to cover lack of sleep. She looks like she just fell out of a hospital drama.

Despite her looks, you knew she was pretty good at her job. She was the only person who'd gotten rid of your spirit problem. At least, for a little while.

You don't know what she meant exactly, but the spirit ("Cursed spirit," she corrected one too many times) was a replicator. It needed to be exorcised multiple times to fully disappear. This has been your third visit so far.

You watched as her eyes followed something right above your head. She hummed, leaning forward on the desk, tapping her perfectly manicured fingers.

"That's strange," she murmurs, "usually, by the third, it's gone."

You wilt at that. A part of you feels guilty for taking so much of the Doctor's time. All of the appointments so far had been free, but you wouldn't blame her if she started asking for payment, or if she turned you away completely.

She straightens her back.

"Clearly, regular exorcisms aren't working." She states the obvious. "So far, they've just been a temporary fix. There's one more thing we could try but..."

For the first time since you've seen her, Doctor Ieiri hesitates. You look at her.

"Not many prefer this procedure." She explains. "It's a little...unorthodox."

Her reluctance should give you a warning, but you've already spent days putting off this appointment, willing for your cursed problem to go away, spending hours tossing and turning in bed, feeling something crawling up your back with too many legs and too many teeth.

"Anything." You say. "Anything to make this go away."

There's a glint in her eye. Something not quite a smile tugs on her face before it's gone. She stands up, prompting you to do the same. In her hands is a neatly folded hospital gown.

"You can put your clothes over there." She mentions to a chair. "Including your undergarments, please."

She must notice your discomfort because her tone becomes less clinical.

"We can stop whenever you want." She tells you. "But stopping in the middle is typically discouraged. Curses are pretty fickle."

You nod. "Okay, Doctor."

"Please, just call me Shoko." She gives a tired smile. "I want you to be as comfortable as possible for this."

You don't feel comfortable calling her by her given name, but Ieir-Shoko looks so pleased when you let her name reluctantly leave your lips, and you feel too bad to retort.

She steps out of the room shortly after handing you the gown. You put your clothes on the chair, she pointed out. When Shoko knocks, you're already seated on the examination table, swathed in the the thin fabric.

"You follow directions well." She's wearing a surgical mask now but looks satisfied with your compliance. You give a shy smile.

"Let's start with a general overlook for now." She says. "It'd be helpful if we can pinpoint where the curse originated."

You nod, but you can't push away the nervousness as Shoko gently pushes past the fabric. She's wearing gloves, but the rubber is a flimsy barrier to her warm fingers. Her hands brush past your clavicle, and the plastic gown easily yields for her touch. You gasp when she touches your tits, fingers lightly brushing over the nipple. The room is so cold. You're so sensitive. You stiffen against her touch.

She notices, pulling back to see your face. "Something wrong?"

"Uh, no." You smile, but it feels watery. "Just nerves." You can't read her expression. The mask hides everything.

She hums, and you're grateful she doesn't comment on how jittery you are. You hold in your reaction when she lightly presses on your breast. Her thumb flicks over your nipple again. You'd call it sensual if you weren't thoroughly convinced that Shoko was a professional and you were the weird one here.

She pulls away eventually, and you sag in relief. It was over. You don't think you could do that again.

"It's not coming from your upper body." Shoko murmurs. "Would you mind if I untied your gown? It'll be better if I can see everything."

You hesitate, unsure, but Shoko's previous words make your rejection waver. Curses are fickle creatures. In the end, you let her unwrap the gown.

There's no real point to it now. You're fully displayed on the examination table, legs spread, leaning back on your hands. It's embarrassing. You can feel yourself heat up at how exposed you are, especially considering Shoko is still wearing her lab coat and that mask.

But Shoko says nothing about it. Right, she's a professional. Instead, she starts pulling off her gloves.

"I'll be able to locate the cursed location more effectively without a barrier." She explains and you nod along.

She starts with your foot, gently squeezing your foot. It feels nice, like a massage. You languish in the touch, only getting concerned when her prodding starts going up her calf.

Shoko rubs circles along your inner calf. Something wells within you, but you're pushing it down because Shoko is a professional. Instead, you lift yourself off the table just to feel more in control.

"Not here either," Shoko murmurs to herself. "Maybe I need to go a little deeper."

Your eyes widen when she rests a single finger at the entrance of your pussy.

"Doctor, I—I don't think that's—" with one motion, she buries her finger inside you.

You're already shamefully wet. Your walls are already clenching down her nimble finger. You can't help it, you shudder, giving out a breathy whine.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" For some reason, you can hear a smile in Shoko's voice as she starts pumping her finger in and out of your sopping pussy. "You can talk. I'm great at multitasking."

"I—I was just saying—saying Doctor, you—" Her finger curls, and you are interrupted by another moan.

"Shoko." She reminds you her voice firm and calm and a total juxtaposition to the way her thumb is circling over your sensitive clit. "I want you to stay calm and relaxed throughout this procedure, okay?"

"Shoko." You keen and you're sure her breath hitches but your brain is numb and she's still wearing that mask. "This—This just feels a—a bit strange and I—"

She coos in sympathy. "It's all part of the process. Just relax, okay? You're doing so well for me."

At this point, you're leaning back on your elbows. The new angle jolts pleasure up and down your spine. It gets even worse when Shoko adds a second finger, stretching your sensitive walls out even further.

"I think the curse is getting closer. We're almost there." Her voice is soft and breathy in your ear and you can hardly understand that she's taken off her mask. "Just a little more. Just a bit further. So so good for me. You're doing so well, baby."

Your orgasm hits you like a train. All at once, you seize up on her fingers, your thighs squeezing together and your moan resembles more of a scream than anything human. Shoko keeps going as the orgasm smashes your broken body like grass.

She stops when you give one last shudder before collapsing onto the examination table. You lie there, breasts heaving, eyes glazed. You're so far out of it that you don't even notice the way she licks her wet fingers.

It takes a few seconds for you to gather your bearings. When you do, you're mortified. You shoot up from the table, covering yourself up with the flimsy gown, ready to apologize when Shoko asks:

"How do you feel?"

It's such an innocent question. It takes you off-guard. Sensitive, is your first answer, but then you think some more and you realize that you can't really feel the dread or the weight on your shoulders anymore.

"You...exorcised it?" No, this felt different from the last two exorcisms she performed on you. Now, you feel five years younger.

She grins, pleased.

"Yes. I found the origin point." She explains. "Even if it ever comes back, it'll be smaller and easier to deal with."

You nod, still recovering from your high as you roll your shoulder. Everything feels so good.

"Wow," you say, "I—thank you! Thank you so much!"

She pulls back, accepting your gratitude with a soft expression.

"We're done for today." She tells you at last. "You're free to put on your clothes. Can't imagine that gown is very comfortable."

You wait for her to leave. She doesn't, sitting back behind her desk, typing away at her computer. There's no real point of you having privacy, is there? After all, you basically just showed her everything.

Still, when you go to put on your clothes, you can feel eyes on you, trailing down your body, your ass. It isn't Shoko. She's always busy with her keyboard, diligent as always. You were feeling things.

One garment was missing, however. As discreetly as you could, you searched around for it, glancing at the floor, underneath the chair. You swore you left it with the other clothes. How could it just disappear?

"Something wrong?"

Shoko's peering up at you, head tilted. You open your mouth. But then you decide they aren't worth the further embarrassment.

"Nothing." You give a nervous grin. "Just nothing."

Shoko can still taste you when Satoru visits her hours after your appointment.

"Get out," she says. Satoru just grins, shutting the door behind him. It was worth a shot.

"I see your favorite little patient had another check-up," he says, "still haven't disclosed we aren't exactly in the personal exorcism business, have ya'?"

Shoko shrugs. "It's a personal project. Don't worry about it."

"Right, you say that buuuuut 'can't help but notice that our lovely non-sorcerer still has a curse swimming around—"Satoru clicks his tongue. "—It's fourth grade, too. This deskwork is making you go soft, Shoko. Maybe I should start dragging you out to missions."

"Did you exorcise it?" Ugh, that would be a pain. Shoko spent so long cultivating that curse to work in her favor.

Gojo grins. "Nah."

"A residual curse." Satoru continues. "Harmless, but pesky enough to be noticed if it isn't dealt with in a couple days. Smart."

By Saturday, to be more exact. Shoko has already cleared her schedule. She can already hear your voice crackling through the phone, sweetly apologizing for such short notice, but would it be possible to book an appointment? She won't tell you that, nor will she tell Satoru. Though, she has a feeling the bastard already knows.

Said bastard is rifling through her drawers. She frowns when he pulls out your panties.

"Aw, these are so cute!" Satoru gushes, shamefully twirling the fabric on his finger. "Are you starting a collection? This some kind of trophy? Hey, I don't judge."

"It's wrong to take things without permission," Shoko says.

"I should be telling you that." Satoru grins. "Y'know, our precious non-sorcerer is kinda' cute. Maybe I should pay a visit—"

Shoko bolts up from her chair. She stares at him. Gojo stops playing with the frills. He's still smiling.

"Easy, easy." He says, but he hands her the fabric anyway. "Damn, I had a feeling, but you're whipped for this one, are n'tcha? Do I hear wedding bells?"

She rolls her eyes. "Get out."

He obliges with a snicker, proving that he only came to mess with her. What did she expect? With a sigh, she collapses back onto her seat.

She dangles your panties in one hand. She refuses to sniff them again, even though your taste and your smell are still swirling around in her head. They must have looked so cute on you. Next time, she'll put cameras in the room, just so she can have a playback of you shyly shucking off your clothes before compliantly slipping on the gown. She wouldn't know what would be more tantalizing to watch; the show or your utter obedience.

Satoru was, unfortunately, right. Shoko was crazy for you, even though you clearly didn't carry the same feelings. That's okay. In this line of work, Shoko knows she has to take what she wants, that letting her desires go is for those like Satoru.

So Shoko will lie and coax and manipulate until you're seated pliantly in her grasp. And maybe if Satoru behaves, he'll get a wedding invite.

And if you still don't yield...well, there's always plan B.

#the B stands for aBduction btw #yandere #yandere jjk #dark jjk #x reader #Dark Ieiri shoko x reader #Yandere ieiri shoko x reader #Yandere Ieiri Shoko #how much malpractice is in this? yes #tw:dubcon #dark content #manipulation #Dark Ieiri Shoko

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sunkeji · 1 year ago

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Scenarios of Ace and Deuce being your bffs who both have a crush on you

a/n: forgot to post,my bad!

tags: mentions of reader wearing a skirt in the 3rd section; lmk if I missed anything.

synopsis: Daily scenarios of Ace and Deuce being your bffs and them both having a crush on you

when you, Ace, Deuce and Grim get punished and tasked to clean the animal enclosure; specifically the hedgehogs, the first 15 minutes are spent actually doing your jobs and then you all collectively get distracted by each other.

Deuce has the brilliant idea to make bets on the hedgehogs and you all immediately agree except the hedgehogs scatter in different directions. In the end, a ridiculous debate ensues on whose hedgehog would have potentially, won the race

***

If you guys have a considerably long break between lessons, the four of you would head back to Ramshackle to play whatever card or board games are available with the ghosts.

quite a handful of times you guys lose track of time and have to fly back to the mirror (literally), through the halls (and hoping you don't get caught) and into the classroom.

Your positions on the broom are predetermined as follows: Deuce Infront, you in the middle with Grim on your lap and Ace behind you. Deuce gets to drive(?) because he has more experience in driving recklessly but safely...

Deuce was initially a bit shy because you're holding onto him but after a few more occurrences of the same thing, he got used to it. The giddy feeling he gets whenever you wrap your hands around his waist and the warmth emanating from your body never goes away though.

Grim is just happy because some type of chaos is going on and he gets to keep warm being sandwiched between you and Deuce. If you ever lean your body forward onto Deuce's, he might start feeling faint and lose his concentration on flying.

Ace is absolutely having the time of his life behind you because he gets to HOLD YOU. And if Deuce isn't driving steady enough, he has more of an excuse to hold you tighter. He would also try his luck each time and see how far he can go. Would you allow him to lean on you completely? Rest his head on your shoulder? The possibilities are endless.

***

Whenever the Aduece duo are hanging out in your room and are left unsupervised for too long, they'd either enable each other into doing stupid shit or start bickering. In this case, it's the former scenario.

You left them to their own devices while you went back to the classroom to get one of the books you needed to complete a homework assignment.

Usually they'd want to follow you because hey, you get to spend more time with the person you like, What more could you want?

But since the person they like doesn't originate from the same region, better yet same dimension; what better way to learn more about your crush then to snoop around their room?

So they do snoop around and after looking through your personal belongings on the shelves and drawers, they move on to your wardrobe.

Out of sheer curiosity, Ace opens your wardrobe and finds your clothes. His eyes straight away land on the skirts that are hanged neatly and immediately has a brilliant idea.

By the time you get back to Ramshackle and open the door, you're rendered speechless by what you're seeing. Both Ace and Deuce are wearing your skirts and are taking mirror selfies all while posing in cute positions.

The image you see before you is truly baffling that you still hadn't moved; seeing this, Ace flips his phone to you and takes a picture of your shocked expression. Definitely posts everything on magicam (idk how to spell it)

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #heartslaybul x reader #ace trapolla x reader #ace x reader #deuce spade x reader #deuce x reader #deuce x yuu #ace x yuu #twsited wonderland #twst ace #twst deuce #heartslabyul #x reader #deuce spade #ace trappola

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yawnderu · 1 year ago

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i scroll through your page every day like it’s my freaking newspaper omg thank you for all the bimbo!reader content 😭😭🥰

this is kind of going off of your post of reader pampering simon and johnny calling him a pretty boy lol

idk if you’ve ever heard of the boyfriend effect? it’s like this silly (but true) theory that men go through a glow up when getting into a relationship 😅😅

but i def see that in simon. like after getting with reader, he’s taking more pride in his appearance. his muscles aren’t just to keep him at the top of his job but he loves the way you drool over them. or he’s like taken to grooming his facial hair or he’s cleaning up his eyebrows, making sure his nails are clean, he’s stepped up his cologne game 🫠🫠

he just appreciates how much work reader puts into her appearance and finds her so beautiful, he wants to be up to her standards and feel like he’s worthy of being with her 🥺🥺

YES ABSOLUTELY!!

Simon was never one to worry much about his appearance, just wearing military-issued clothes and other random things he bought when he wasn't deployed. It's mentioned that he also didn't even know what skincare was before meeting her and this man used to wash his face with only water or body wash 😭 but once she starts getting him introduced to all those things and she starts doing his skincare?? Simon Riley, the man that you are.

He's seen you spend over an hour doing your skincare and always making sure your presentation looks good before going out, spending a lot of time doing your makeup, hair, nails and planning outfits, and he starts truly believing that he has to look good for you as well.

He starts to trim his nails more and clean them up well, sometimes even asking you for help or accepting to go get a manicure with you so the callouses in his hands get better and he can have soft hands to hold and touch you. He'd never admit it, but he spent a long time at different stores trying to pick a body wash and cologne that smells pleasant so he can always smell nice when he's out with you.

He starts to shave his face more often, using an aftershave with a pleasant, masculine smell. He tries his best to shower before coming back home to you, and if he's not able to, the first thing he does is suggest that you both take a shower together, secretly proud to see your surprised face at how many things he uses now to clean his body compared to the tiny bar of cheap soap that he used when you first met.

Sure, his muscles make him a more intimidating figure in the battlefield and help him be at the top, but he's never felt more grateful for them than when you're tying a bow on his arm and making him flex just to see it unwrap. He absolutely loves how you worship his body and having your long, pretty nails run over his muscles when you touch him, squeezing his muscles and drooling over them and how cool he looks.

He wants to keep up with you— you're a very pretty girl who puts a lot of effort into your appearance, and he wants to do the same, wanting to look worthy of being with you even when in your eyes, he was fully worthy of it even before he changed.

I also believe that bimbo!reader had the idea to plan his Senpai Ghost outfit HBJEFJHFEHJBFE

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

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lxvvie · 1 year ago

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whenever i think of lil domestic life blurbs the first thing i think is "hmm i wonder what lxvvie would write about this" LOL (can u tell i love u and ur writing!! <3)

for instance: imagine the cod characters trying desperately for you to finally claim one of their shirts as ur own sleep shirt. but like, you've worn the same thrifted oversized shirt every night since college, and tbh you really don't want to change up your routine now, and yeah, a strangers random shirt is actually more comfortable than yours, thank you very much

cue chaos. also idk who this would fit but i feel like one of them would be like don't wanna wear my shirt to sleep? fine and then proceed to replace every article of clothing in your closet, except for that sleep shirt, with one of their own. what!!! technically they listened to you!!!

I can see it going a lil' something like this (it might deviate some from your ask so forgive me! 😭):

Price would be a bit subtler than the rest. A comment or suggestion is given here or there because if it's comfort you're looking for, his shirts are where it's at.

Gaz is the one who outright tells you that he wants you in his shirt. Like... right now.

Soap leaves his shirts lying around with the express purpose of you putting them on. If you were to ask him to grab a shirt for you from the laundry room, best believe he will come back with his shirt for you to wear.

Ghost tells you that he can't sleep at night because your shirt feels "rough against his skin" 🙄. You call bullshit because his shirts have the same exact texture, and he calls bullshit to your bullshit because they absolutely do not. You can't help but wonder if there's some credibility to his words, though, because when you sleep in his shirt one night, he's out like a light.

Keller is the one who's like, "Got something for ya, Boss," and he tosses you his shirt and you're confused. "Alex, this is yours," and he shrugs and is all, "Not for long, I hope."

Alejandro wouldn't necessarily feel some kind of way about you wearing the shirt but if, for instance, it was from an ex? He'll envision burning it. In the meantime in-between time, wear his shirt.

Rudy tells you that he loves it when you wear his shirts because it feels good knowing a piece of him is still with you when he's away and that's all the more reason for you to wear them.

Horangi just wants his scent on you because he's claiming what's his.

König thinks it's absolutely adorable the way his shirts fit like freaking blankets on you. Then there was that one time you put on a shirt that he uses when he's away on assignment...

Graves doesn't really care... unless he's away. When he's home, he'd rather you sleep naked. For reasons. Reasons that involve horizontal dancing.

Keegan would just silently hand you his shirt, unwavering stare and all.

Roach's approach is similar to Rudy but he'd oh-so-politely ask, "Please...?"

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tiktowafel · 7 months ago

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some 1b girl lineups so i can have all my little personal designs in one place :3 slightly inconsistent bc i drew them separately at first but fuck it we ball

no clothes versions that i made for myself to use as templates (yknow so i can draw clothes on top of them without having to draw them over and over again) and showcase my general appearance headcanons

how i think they like to wear their uniforms (looking at bakugo, UA seems pretty liberal about it so i get to have fun lol). obviously what they wear depends mostly on the weather but these are meant to be like,, their favorite combinations?

i really like the "long sleeve shirt with no blazer" look. kind of a shame no one in bnha seems to wear their uniform like this

the most important part!! the costumes!! putting the notes under the cut bc they ended up kinda long

i like Reiko's canon costume a lot, i just decided to give her fingerless gloves and make her kimono long and tattered for the spooky vibes. i used to also draw it with a reversed (right over left) collar bc that's how they dress dead people and Reiko's meant to have this ghost aesthetic but decided against it this time because maybe it's more culturally inappropriate than i think?? idk its not that big of a visual change so i'd rather play it safe

Setsuna is wearing my own costume design that i explained fully in an older post. i still like it, i just gave her spike bands on her legs instead of the same thing she wears on her forearms bc i decided i dont vibe with the total limb symmetry anymore lol

i spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to think up a redesign for Kendo only to settle for her canon costume with extra bandages/cloth wraps (theyre cool) and ordinary combat boots instead of the ones she wears in canon (i just don't vibe with them). i guess sometimes less is more or whatever

Pony is wearing @doodlegraveyard's awesome redesign :) pastel cowgirl swag

Ibara's design is by m0chicakes, i still think its amazing

Yui's costume also takes a lot from doodlegraveyard's design, i just decided to try blue as her accessory color to distinguish her color palette from my Momo design

Kinoko's canon costume is just *chefs kiss* so the only thing i changed was the color of her shoes. her sleeves are short here bc i thought it could look cute for a summer version of her costume, the winter version keeps the long fluffy sleeves. her spray guns were pissing me off so i decided not to draw them but trust me they're here in spirit

i might post winter edits for some of these later :)

edit: posted in a reblog!!

#bnha #class 1b #reiko yanagi #setsuna tokage #itsuka kendo #pony tsunotori #ibara shiozaki #yui kodai #kinoko komori #bnha redesign #tikto's art #okay smiley face time OVER complaining time is NOW #i do like it enough to post but i am less than happy with how some of this stuff turned out if i gotta be honest #ponys pastel ass linework colors. everyones feet and shoes. kinoko's chicken legs. honestly kinoko in general #im sorry girl i couldnt do you justice but i redrew you like 3 times and still wasn't happy so i had to settle with what i had TwT

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tempting-andromeda · 1 year ago

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I missed my boys so I’m back at headcanons

Misc headcanons

Characters: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Charles Smith, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Sunmers, Kieran Duffy, Micah Bell, Eagle Flies

Arthur Morgan

Super awkward about gift giving but he loves giving you little trinkets from his adventures. Like a small flower or a pretty Little Rock

He’s just like “here” drops it in your hand and then stands there awkwardly

Doesn’t hide his facial expressions as well as he thinks he does.

He loves to gossip. If you tell him something juicy he acts like he doesn’t care but he’ll drop something even crazier with a smirk

Reluctantly tells you about his adventures but he just doesn’t want to brag

John Marston

Every time he asks for you to bathe with him it ends up with him getting a scrub down instead of getting headed (he doesn’t know why he expects anything else anymore)

Thinks burps are peak comedy.

He likes when you ask his opinion about things even though he’ll bullshit his way through

Like a purple or blue shirt? Hmm it’s cold so wear the blue one because blue is for cold.

Accidentally shows his buttcrack a lot. His pants just never sit on his hips right and I just…I can feel it.

Dutch Van Der Linde

He likes dates where you two go out into Saint Denis and pretend to be someone else for the night.

Likes picking out your outfits for you. He finds it romantic.

Has a thing for helping you tie or buckle your shoes

Always thinks the smallest knees is the biggest news or the other way around

Tries to dance with you in the most random of moments. Like you’re a little pissed about something and he’ll come up to you and just start swaying

Charles Smith

Cannot stand when people share food by sucking on peoples fingers. Like when people dip their finger into the cake batter and share it.

Has the most obvious side eye ever. He simply cannot hide it.

Favorite cuddling position is where you lay on top of him

He doesn’t drink much but when he does he’s a completely different person.

Will bluntly ask you a weird question like “what alcohol do you think would be your horse’s favorite”

Javier Escuella

Likes lipstick marks. Thinks it’s one of the most attractive things ever. Has a shirt where you left a lipstick stain on the collar

Says the sassiest shit under his breath 5 minutes after it’s relevant and gets pissed

Rehearses a conversation in his head before he has it

Makes you learn Spanish for “code words” but reallt he just wants to teach you Spanish

Has a habit of repeating words just for himself outside of conversations

Sean MacGuire

He thinks he’s the suavest mother fucker around. He will randomly share how he pulled you to random people

Makes the worst inside jokes he’ll never drop

Loves to spin you around randomly. He doesn’t care if you hate it.

Keeps food in his pockets (sometimes wrapped in cloth) and doesn’t see a problem with it

Thinks cringy pet names are the best like “snugglemuffin”

Lenny Summers

One of his favorite dates are leisurely strolls

He liked when you help him get dressed. Like help him with his vest

Idk why I think he has like the same idea as romance as those really happy old people

Likes when you keep him company while he’s patrolling

Loves cheek kisses! One of his favorite things ever!

Kieran Duffy

He likes to join you if you have a self care routine.

Likes to share things with you. Like some food or his clothes.

Makes the most out there “what ifs” or “would you rather” questions

Just casually knows how to do decent hairstyles because he got bored while working with the horses.

Wakes up too easily. At the smallest thing. You could twitch and he’s stirring awake

Micah Bell

Thinks it’s funny to ghost you. He always says stuff like “distance makes the heart grow fonder”

Really good at catching flies and mosquitoes

Will prompt the weirdest shit as if it’s normal just to fuck with you

Will give you the meanest compliments like “I hate inbreds…not you though” because he thinks it’s charming AND funny

Randomly gives you a good shove every now and then

Eagle flies

He absolutely loves getting a rise out of you like sometimes he does something stupid just for you to scold him

Affectionally bites. At first it was a joke but now he just casually does it. He’ll grab your hand and pressed a light bite to your wrist

Gets comfortable in the weirdest positions. Even while cuddling.

Talks about your future with him way too soon.

He thinks it’s funny to randomly “propose” to you

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avonne-writes · 3 months ago

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do you think you could do #8 “Who did this to you?” From your reblog. Maybe like In the stalag when Bucky shows up and goes to give Gale a hug but Gale flinches away. Bucky is immediately worried and try’s to get Gale to spill but it doesn’t work. Blah blah blah, Bucky might see Gale interact with a guard and understands why. Idk take it your own way if you want 😅

Thank you for the prompt! 💕 Sorry for only getting to it now. I went with a different take, but I hope you like it!

8. Who did this to you?

After stumbling inside their quarters at Thorpe, Bucky tries to make his way to his bed blindly in the dark. He counts his steps to measure a distance he knows well by now, but the haze of booze makes his brain sluggish, and the numbers get all jumbled up. Nevertheless, he finds the frame of his cot, locates it with fumbling hands, and lets himself sink down on the mattress with a relieved sigh.

Except, it’s not his cot.

He lands on something simultaneously soft and bony, and gets kneed in the ribs so hard for it that he falls on his ass. Groaning, he gives in to gravity and goes limp on the floor.

"John?" Gale whispers somewhere above him. When Bucky grunts in response, one of their other roommates hisses a shut up their way. "What are you doing?"

"Sleeping." Bucky replies. He feels rather comfortable where he is. At least the room isn’t spinning. Down here, nothing wants to crawl back out of his stomach to show him exactly how much whiskey he poured down his throat to wipe their last mission from his memory.

Slim, warm hands pat at Bucky's chest, trying to locate his shoulders in the dark. When they find a good place to grip and try to pull Bucky up, Bucky turns his head and nips at Gale’s wrist.

"Come on, you big loony." Gale murmurs, completely ignoring the fact that Bucky's mouth is full of the cotton of his shirt. His teeth dig into Gale's arm. Out of curiosity, Bucky bites down harder, until Gale yanks his arm away with an annoyed huff.

"Son of a bitch." He swears under his breath, but a moment later, his hands return. They hook under Bucky's armpits to pull him up by force. "Up. On your feet, Major."

"Don’t want to." Bucky whines.

As soon as Gale gets him vertical, he starts moving to lie right back down, and finds the bed Gale has just vacated. It’s still warm from Gale’s body. He sinks into that heat with a smile, squirming until the dip Gale's body left in the mattress fits his own. Like coming home. His drunken mind imagines it would be just as comforting to climb inside Gale's body. To be one with him. Always welcome, always safe.

"All right." Gale's tired exhale brushes Bucky's ear as Gale leans over him and tugs the blanket out from under his body to drape it over him. Tucking him in like his mama would've. Or a wife.

"Should've left me on the floor." Bucky sniffs. The urge to cry makes his throat tight, but he holds it back. He’s a man, damn it.

"What kind of best friend would that make me, huh?" Gale murmurs softly. He’s so close still. His hands are on Bucky’s back and arm. He should lean in for a goodnight kiss, Bucky thinks. "Go to sleep, Bucky."

"'S your bed."

"You can borrow it tonight."

Fingers run through Bucky’s curls, a ghost of a touch, then there's nothing. Bucky turns his head into Gale's pillow because it smells like him. He falls asleep in a minute.

Morning arrives with a dull, heavy pain behind Bucky's eyes that he welcomes like an old friend. Most fellas get cranky when they're hungover, but it just makes Bucky feel alive. It seems as if fewer and fewer things do. Drinking. Singing, dancing, flirting. Gale.

Speaking of - Bucky should find him. Yes, that sounds like the perfect hangover cure. Getting teased by his best friend.

Still fully-clothed and wearing his boots, Bucky climbs out of bed - Gale's bed, he notes, sifting through his blurry memories from last night and coming up blank when he tries to explain it. He figures he might have tried to get in beside Gale, who thought it was better to just surrender his cot. Bucky ought'a thank him for not kicking him out to sleep on the floor.

He finds Gale by the small sink they all share, just finishing up with shaving. He’s stripped down to his undershirt and his hair is not yet slicked back with product but falls over his forehead in soft bangs. It makes him look younger. Pretty, even, if Bucky were being honest. He tries not to be though. Wouldn’t do him any good.

Grinning with all his charm, he walks up to Gale and leans on the wall beside him, his free hand in his pocket. "Hey, Buck."

"Morning." Gale says without looking away from the mirror, but there’s a small smile in the corner of his lips as he slides the blade over his skin.

Bucky has the strangest urge to offer to do the last few swipes for him. "Thanks for the bed."

"You’re welcome." Gale's voice is amused. Although there's a shadow of exhaustion under his eyes, he looks happy, so Bucky feels safe to joke around a bit.

When Gale rinses the blade and starts wiping his face, Bucky nudges him with his foot. In return, Gale flicks water at him, which tickles Bucky into a short laugh. For the first time this morning, Gale's blue eyes meet his and give him a playful look.

"You look like that chow they used to feed us back in Texas." There it is. The teasing.

Bucky grins. "Delicious, you mean?"

For a moment that steals Bucky's breath away, Gale just holds his gaze, but then he turns back to the mirror to comb his hair. "Not the word I'd use."

That's when Bucky notices the bruise on Gale’s forearm. Without thinking, he grabs Gale's hand and pulls it closer to get a better look at the mark. It’s circular, red and purpling in some places, about the width of a set of teeth. A bite mark. When Bucky brushes his thumb over it, Gale’s fingers twitch in his hold.

"What happened? Who did this to you?" Bucky asks with a frown. His protective anger rises behind the wall of confusion in his mind. It’s a fresh bruise, can't be more than a day old. Did Gale get up to something while Bucky was at the pub yesterday?

Gale uses his free hand to hike his trousers higher up his slim waist, shifting in place, but he doesn’t move the hand Bucky's holding to examine the bruise. He just stares at it, cheeks pinking. He’s standing close enough that all Bucky can smell is his aftershave, fresh on his smooth face.

"I reckon it was one of those bed-stealing fellas around here." He drawls.

Bucky swipes his thumb over the mark again distractedly before realization hits him.

"Did I do this?" He asks, horrified. When Gale hums yes, it’s like a rock of guilt falling right on Bucky’s heart. He lets go of Gale's hand and rubs his palm over his own face. His hangover swells into a wave of nausea he swallows back down. "Shit. I'm sorry, Buck. Can’t even remember."

"It was good whiskey, huh?" Gale smiles and picks up the towel he wiped his face with earlier. When Bucky gives him an apologetic look, he swats at him with it. "It’s fine, John."

A memory hits Bucky like a bucketful of ice. Back in flight school, on one of their first longer leaves, Gale actually went home to see his Ma in Wyoming because she was bedridden with a chest cold, and they feared she might pass. She made it through, but for what good, Bucky isn't sure, because Gale rarely ever writes her and hasn’t been to Casper since.

But that one time, he visited his parents. Bucky won't forget how it went anytime soon. The first day Gale came back to base, he was sporting a fading shiner on his right cheek. Dark blue pain under pale skin. He clammed up about how he got it, but Bucky prodded, kept asking the same question, who did this to you? Until Gale confessed that he had a fight with his father. The man was drunk. But it's fine, John, Gale told him, pursing his lips. Nothing that won't heal.

Discomfort ripples through Bucky, bitter on his tongue and heavy in his heart. Gale's smiling now, unlike that day in flight school, but there are too many similarities. Bucky has to, he needs to make it better.

"I didn’t mean to hurt you." He says sincerely.

"I know." Gale nods.

Bucky bites his lip. He can’t think of anything else to make it clearer that he’s nothing like Gale's bastard of a father. There’s so little he can give. He has nothing to offer but his company. "Let me make it up to you. Come to London with me. We could both use a break. Let's go paint the town red."

The tip of Gale's pink tongue pokes out between his lips for a second as he considers it. Instinctively, Bucky's gaze drops to the motion before he looks back to Gale's eyes again. "I don't know about that."

There's a wariness in his voice that wasn’t there before. Bucky hates it. He doesn’t know what put it there, but he wants it gone. He claps a hand on Gale's elbow and gives him a friendly squeeze. "Come on. We can go look at all the sights you wanna see, then I'll take you to a pub and buy you the best ginger beer you've ever had."

Gale gives him a lopsided smile. "Is that a bet?"

Bucky smirks. "A promise." He moves to take Gale's place at the sink, but Gale doesn’t step back immediately, which puts their faces so close to each other that for a split second, Bucky imagines crossing the remaining distance. "Tell you what. We could even split the hotel costs."

A fond light shines in Gale's eyes. He steps away with a chuckle and throws the towel at Bucky. "Go wash your face, Egan."

Grinning, Bucky opens the tap and does just that. That wasn’t a no, he notes. Excitement tingles in his limbs. His blood pumps warm joy through his body with every heartbeat. He has never felt more alive than this, but he wonders if he could. And if yes... would London do the trick?

#mota #buck x bucky #gale cleven #john egan #clegan #my writing #prompt fill

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muqingfx · 2 months ago

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Heyyyy

Idk why I'm sharing this with you specifically but...

Can you imagine a scenario where mu qing gets cursed where he gets like super cold and after a certain amount of time will turn to ice (think of frozen) but he'll survive if he warms up. Aka fengqing cuddles ♥️♥️

gonna write a short drabble

Metal meets rotten flesh as Mu Qing flings his zhanmadao at the infernal ghost.

"Got you," Mu Qing whispers under his breath. He's fatigued after endless pursuits and perpetual clashes; the ribbon that usually holds his dark hair in place has fallen off, resulting in messy strands carpeting his head and obscuring his line of vision. His breathing is rough and robes tattered, but finally, finally, he has the damn ghost beneath him, shuddering and seething under his blade.

Mu Qing's eyes widen as he's propelled meters back by a gush of frigid wind that chills his godly skin. Ah, nevermind. He spoke too soon. When has it ever been easy?

His precious zhanmadao is pulled away from his grip, flying off and plummeting to the ground with a loud thud. Although Mu Qing had tried to keep his eyes on the ghost, the pest had somehow evaded his vigilance. From behind him, Mu Qing hears footsteps of not one, but at least a hundred creatures closing in on him. His head rivots to look behind and there's a whole damn army of ghosts.

"Shit," Mu Qing curses. He takes in his wearied state and distant saber. "Shit, shit," he curses some more. The little nuisances jump around, squealing and yelling as they make their way to Mu Qing.

Mu Qing, a martial god. What the hell? He's a martial god, dammit. Who do these little shits think they are?

He lifts his arm and creates a swirl of spiritual energy on his palm, the golden orb illuminating the dark sky. He thrusts his hand forward, watching gleefully as the little shits scream in agony. To finish it off, Mu Qing scurries to retrieve his zhanmadao and slices through multiple ghosts at once. The rest is suspiciously uncomplicated, considering the hassle he had to go through to get here, and the ghosts are all eliminated in moments.

The silence is deafening after Mu Qing stamps out the last one, excluding the soft hoots of an owl. But then Mu Qing realizes something fairly unusual: he's really fucking cold.

"What the fuck are you wearing, nutcase?" Feng Xin snorts out a laughter as soon as Mu Qing walks into his work chambers. Through the spritual array, they had decided on a meeting regarding the Southern region's welfare.

"Shut up," Mu Qing hisses, "I'm cold."

"Yeah? It's the middle of summer."

"Get to business, Ju Yang. Where are the reports?" He fixes the cloth around his neck. It's been two days since his encounter with the army of ghosts, and each hour since then felt like his body heat was being sucked out of him. "And get me some hot tea."

Feng Xin glares at him but says nothing, reaching for the unorganized scrolls on his worktop. He hands them over to Mu Qing, who accepts it with shaking hands. When Feng Xin's gaze lingers a second too long, Mu Qing swats at his face with the scrolls.

"Motherfucker," Feng Xin mutters, but still has decency to invite Mu Qing to sit down on his divan. "It's tranquil. For now."

Mu Qing nods. "Villages are undisturbed. Temples aren't being messed with. Ghosts are out of sight. Prayers are not too bothersome." He shuffles the scrolls. "Is that all?”

Offering a hum of confirmation, Feng Xin lays out the teapot and cups on the table. The warm steam from the served tea has Mu Qing resisting the urge to hover his hands over the spout. He doesn’t. Obviously.

“Have you been on any missions recently?” Feng Xin asks around a mouthful of wafers.

“What? That’s none of your concern. Yes. A few days ago. Don’t speak with your mouth full.”

Feng Xin swallows down his food quickly. “You did? How did it go?”

“Stop prying. It went fine.” He closes his eyes and sips his tea, indulging in it’s heat.

A stupid pout forms on Feng Xin’s face. “I haven’t been on a mission in ages—”

“I do not care.”

“—so I’ve been cooped up in here, answering prayers.”

Mu Qing sets his half-empty teacup down and glares at the oaf sitting in front of him. “Why is it so cold in here?”

Said oaf’s eyebrows scrunch into a frown. “Cold? Mu Qing, it’s fucking sweltering. Are you sick?”

“I don’t get sick.”

“Stubborn prick. You’re wearing like, four robes.”

Instantly, Mu Qing’s hands raised up to clutch at his layers of clothing. “Judging bitch.”

But Feng Xin doesn’t get riled up and start yelling and cursing like he usually would. His brows draw in together as if he were concerned, and his eyes rake over the length of Mu Qing’s figure. “Are you cursed? Just what type of ghost did you fight?”

“I’m not cursed.” He’s not. Yes, his symptoms started, strangely, after his confrontation with the ghost. So what? Coincidences happen. And he’s just cold. That's literally it.

“Mu Qing.” Feng Xin’s own tone leaves no room for argument. Both official are no less obstinate than the other.

“I’m not cursed! The ghost I fought with used the element of snow. There. Happy? Cretin.”

Feng Xin’s jaw clenches, an impatient glint in his eyes. “Snow? You’re not usually this fucking stupid, Mu Qing.”

Mu Qing jumps to his feet, already grabbing his zhanmadao from his side. “What did you just say?”

“Fucking hell, Mu Qing!” Feng Xin holds his hand up and effectively stops Mu Qing from swinging his saber. “Where the fuck was your head when Ling Wen was explaining this shit?”

“What…”

“She clearly described a savage ghost who could fucking freeze a heavenly official to death.”

Mu Qing pauses. In the back of his head, he indistinctly remembers a warning from Ling Wen.

“Fuck,” Feng Xin cusses, seemingly more stressed than Mu Qing’s himself. “Fucking fuck.”

He grasps Mu Qing’s hand—and then flinches back. “You’re a fucking icicle! Come here.” Carefully, Feng Xin pulls Mu Qing closer to his body, coercing him into a hug. Brawny arms wrap around Mu Qing’s torso and a palm pushes Mu Qing’s face into a warm shoulder,

He sighs in relief when he feels the temperature shoot up.

“Still cold?” Feng Xin mutters right into his ear and Mu Qing fucking shivers.

“What do you think? Moron.”

“Don’t be a bitch or I’ll just let you fucking die.”

“Then let me.”

“I need to shut that mouth of yours.”

Mu Qing tears himself away, face flaming. “I’m fine now.” He turns and stomps away, determined to go elsewhere.

Feng Xin doesn’t let him though, snatching his arm and tugging him hard so Mu Qing’s back slams against a firm chest.

"Like fuck you are."

"Let me go." Mu Qing struggles against Feng Xin's vice grip, though his efforts as futile as the bigger man deftly hauls him around the Nan Yang Palace and into his bedchambers.

Feng Xin's bedchambers.

He--considerably gently--tosses Mu Qing onto the soft duvet and throws a sizeable quilt at him. "Get comfy, general."

Mu Qing glowers, though it's half-hearted. But his fury fades into alarm as Feng Xin joins him on the bed.

"What the--what the fuck are you doing?!" he yelps, horrified. He scrambles away, making space between the two bodies.

And once again, Feng Xin effortlessly pulls him back under the quilt. "Shut up and stay still."

Mu Qing freezes, letting Feng Xin maneuver him around as if he were a doll.

"Warm up, fucker." Feng Xin pats both of Mu Qing's cheeks, trying to give it some colour.

"Stop it," Mu Qing hisses. Feng Xin encircles his limbs around Mu Qing's middle, and Mu Qing can only exhale as he lets him.

He lets Feng Xin nuzzle his face into the curve of Mu Qing's neck.

He lets Feng Xin's fingers draw slow, soothing circles on his palm.

He let's Feng Xin warm him until he's a ball of fire, melting away his frosty fraud exterior.

#drabbles #tgcf drabbles #fengqing #is it a #fanfic #??#short fic #tgcf #asks #my writing #anon...im sorry if i didnt do this right😭😭😭#so many typos ugh

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whaleofatjme1920 · 1 year ago

Text

Task Force 141 with a Small/Flat Chested Reader

[Task Force 141 x F!Reader]

[Warnings: I mean, I talk about tits what more can you expect? It's pretty NSFW, so MINORS GET OUT.]

[AN: iykyk, yk? Anyways. Love the IBTC just bc I think that's cute and I'm in a mood to show this community love <3]

Reblogs are appreciated!

Captain John Price

I think he has a slight size kink, not too big but small tits play into it. Yes ofc he loves all tits but small tits just look so lovely to him. If you wear any bras or whatever, he's staring for the outline. The same thing if you don't wear anything, he might catch a glimpse of your nipples poking through and he likes that. Won't outright say it though.

Loves whenever you wear low necklines, like v necks, scoops, things that show off your chest.

If you wear long necklaces that dip in between? ohohoh. He can't help but stare and whisper the dirtiest things in your ear.

I think he really liked to hug you from behind and playfully rub his hands upwards from your stomach to your chest.

Isn't it cute how his whole hand can envelop them? He really likes to grope you. Especially laying in bed and he spoons you, hands come up? Boom, gotta grab the titty.

Absolutely feral over them. Any insecurities get washed away by how much he wants to touch you and how he compliments you.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

I feel like he's a huge thigh guy but your tits are pretty hot to him. Thinks they're super elegant with the way they fit in certain clothes.

He stares. He cannot stop staring. He's feel his face heat whenever you catch him and he covers it in the dorkiest ways possible.

Idk I feel like he's really,,,, silly? With the way he loves your tits. Can't really explain it but just know he's kinda silly.

I think he loves to rest his head on your chest and take naps. But he'll also start kissing just to get you flustered.

He gets pretty sad if you get sad or feel any self doubt over your tits. He really loves how they fit you and how they look once clothes come off.

He has a special love for whenever you wear cute bras or bralettes, whatever makes you happiest I guarantee he's in love with.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

He's super immature about the way he loves your tits. Like, wolf whistles whenever you wear something a little more revealing, makes raunchy comments, it's gotta make you bashful because he thinks that's cute.

Love love loves to suck on your nipples. Like, I don't know he strikes me as a strong titty guy and small tits make him feral.

He'll bite gently because his bitemarks on your tits make him blush. Big on squeezing and generally worshipping that part of your body. And like Gaz, he just LOVES to stare.

Though I think he doesn't actually like the long necklaces? And it's not that he doesn't like that but rather he thinks they detract from your chest just a bit.

He's the world's best hype man. Feeling insecure? Societal standards telling you that you need more? No worries, he's gonna squash all of that in a heartbeat.

You ever see that one vine that was like, 'take them titties out bc I'm trying to see them?' He's,,, the embodiment of that. Good luck ever wearing a shirt for more than a few hours around him when you're relaxing together at home.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

yeah idk about you guys but I think Ghost has HUGE size kink. And to be fair, he kinda looms over everyone but your small tits really put his size kink into high gear.

He's always going to be cupping, rubbing and sucking your tits or at least dreaming about the moment he can again. Loves having you underneath him so he can watch your chest rise and fall, see every part of you but focus on your nipples especially.

He likes how you look in outfits as well, they accentuate your body and make you look gorgeous to him. Also a big fan of necklines that go low. But he also enjoys knowing he's the only man who can touch you there.

Loves when you lay on top of him to cuddle. Something about your chests pressed together is intimate and romantic to him? He wouldn't call it romantic, more like relaxing. He likes physical touch but it takes a while to get there.

Thinks aesthetically, that you're gorgeous. I think he sketches in his spare time, I can't actually remember if that was,,, confirmed or not? maybe I'm hallucinating but he sketches in his spare time and he's drawn your chest before.

He thinks you're beautiful. No part of you needs to change or bend to societal pressures. Insecurity tends to melt away when you're with him because he just... gets you. Knows what to say and how to say it in such a way that it's comforting and sweet.

#minors dni #captain john price x reader #price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #task force 141 x reader

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