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astroboots · 10 months

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EVERY YOU EVERY ME: ISSUE #4

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Miguel O'Hara saves you from falling off the Chrysler building for a second time, and he's not very happy about it.

Word count: 4,400 words.

Content: Slow burn so slow we're getting a reverse speeding ticket, Spidey-boy has a lot of emotions and really needs therapy, he also swears a lot, tiny speck of angst.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

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It's shocking how fast the ground approaches from a height of 72 stories. You always imagined it would take longer given the distance. In movies, the freefall is always captured in a hypnotizing slow motion, but real gravity is brutal and unforgiving.

This time, as you fall through the sky, you don’t see the New York concrete grow wider or nearer. All you see is the vast gap between you and the crystal blue sky rapidly pulling away from you. The buildings looming higher with every second. The blinding sun reflected in the thousands and thousands of glaring windows towering above.

You can't feel your heartbeat or the wind beating against your face. There should be panic. But at the sight of familiar inky-blue piercing through your view, an eerie calm takes over until a comforting numb spreads through your limbs.

Call it misguided naivety. No one should ever place this much trust with their life on a stranger they don't even know to come and save them.

But misguided or not, there's no fear in you this time around. You don't think about how you are plummeting down to your death. Not when you see him speeding after you. Diving head-first into the vast empty space as he closes the distance between you, hand outstretched, reaching for you.

His hand catches around your wrist in mid-air. It's a firm grip like he never means to let go. He reels you in until you're defying gravity, gliding up through the air to meet him until he can wrap his arms around you.

Everything decelerates. The reflection of the rows and rows of windows no longer flashing by. It's a gentle descent as the breeze flows pleasantly through your hair, and if you don't think too hard about how you can't control the direction of movement, you can almost believe you’re flying.

The landing is gentle. He sets you on your feet with such great care that it takes you a second to adjust to the feeling of firm concrete beneath your soles.

Once again, you find yourself standing face to face with the masked superhero who has saved your life more times than you can count on both hands.

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, head tilting upwards until your neck strains, and it strikes you that you've forgotten how tall he was. His head tips down, the dark outline of his masked eyes staring down at you, and it makes the hair on the nape of your neck prickle.

Say something.

You rack your brain, trying to remember all the questions you had meticulously written down in the notepad hidden in your desk as you planned for this very moment. But they’re missing, wiped cleanly from your mind now that he's here in front of you. Your mouth parts, trying to remember how to use your vocal cords again.

Before you find it, the blue fabric recedes until it reveals his face again. You're met with cutting eyes that glow an otherworldly crimson and the bared sharp canine teeth of a predator as he growls at you.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

The low rumble of his words scrapes down your spine and locks you in a fight or flight response. Except you're doing neither. Fixed in place, unable to move.

One of his hands reaches up to pull at his hair in frustration, as he starts to mumble to himself. He's tugging it so hard you think he's going to yank them out by the roots.

"I can’t believe you! Me estás matando. Casi me da un ataque cardíaco–"

You blink up at him dimly, confused until you realize that he's broken into Spanish. But he's speaking too low and too fast. You can only make out about half of it.

"–No puedo más! I am dying of stress. You're impossible! I turn away for one second…”

One sentence flows directly into the next without stopping for a single breath, and you're surprised he doesn't go lightheaded from lack of oxygen with how long he goes on.

You raise your hand slightly, reminiscent of a gesture you used to pull in school when you wanted to get the teacher's attention to ask a question. But he doesn't notice. Doesn’t even throw a glance in your direction.

“... and you go Anna Karenina on me. I can't with you, I can't, I can't–"

You try to follow along, looking for an appropriate break in his rant to get a word in edgewise. But like the line of tourists lining up for the Statue of liberty, there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. As rude as it is, the only thing you can think of is clearing your throat, loudly, trying to draw attention to yourself, but that's soundly ignored as well.

"Me vas a sacar canas verdes–-"

One broad hand covers his face as if he's trying to scrub away the beginnings of a migraine, and he keeps going.

Listening to him makes you feel like a child on the receiving end of a scolding by an exasperated parent. Any lingering thread of fear or intimidation gives way to irritation at this man who is so subsumed by his tirade that he doesn't even seem to be aware of your presence, not three feet away from him.

"–Siempre haces esto, una y otra y otra vez–"

You don't know exactly how long he’s been going on for by now, but you know that it's long. You could even swear the shadow by your feet has shifted to the opposite end of the patch of concrete at your feet in the time he’s been talking.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" he asks, apparently finally done. He stands there, arms crossed, with a condescending set to his jaw as he looks down on you.

And god, where to even start with this man? You have enough material about his difficult and avoidant behavior to make a powerpoint presentation out of it. You should block out the boardroom for three whole hours and hold a Q&A after.

How, if he had just spoken to you after you left him not one, not two, but several requests to meet with him, then things could have ended up a lot more civilized.

How, if he hadn't been hiding from you this whole time—gaslighting you— you wouldn't have had to spend over $200 on budget DIY spy crap (in this economy!) on an utterly wasted attempt to catch him. And, to add insult to injury, you’re sure you are never going to use any of that stuff ever again!

How, if he hadn't been talking non-stop and had the self-awareness to take a second to observe others, he'd have realized that you had plenty of things to say to him, if only he had paused long enough to let you.

But somehow in the face of his expectant expression, all that comes out of your mouth is, "I don't know what you want me to say."

His face falls. There's a split second of disappointment, raw and anguished, that flitters across his face. Then it's gone as quickly as it appeared, and he turns away from you. Whatever he was expecting from you, that was obviously not it.

When he speaks again, his voice has turned calm and quiet. He almost sounds resigned.

"Yeah. I don't know either."

There's a sluggish, awkward silence that lingers on the three feet of concrete stretched between the two of you. The echo of traffic below, the cab horns and chatter swarms the space. After everything that’s happened, it all feels very anti-climatic somehow.

"Can you take me back to my apartment and we can talk? I have coffee. Cake too," you say, trying to break the silence.

"I don't drink coffee." His tone is curt, severing the olive branch you were trying to extend with a sharp snap, and your shoulders sag in defeat and disappointment. But then his face tips back in your direction and meets your eyes. The line of his mouth twitches as if he’s war with himself.

"But I'll have some cake," he concedes.

Had you known that a superhero was coming over for a visit, you'd probably have done a better job of cleaning up and making the place presentable.

You would have put away the heap of unfolded, wrinkly laundry that's piled up on your bed, granny panties in full sight. Would have washed the dirty dishes stacked up in your sink like a dangerous game of porcelain Jenga. Or at least cleared out the sad looking take out box where your half-eaten pizza is still resting in a greased up spot on the table.

Still, you're not sure how impressed he would be even if you had. Your studio apartment is a standard size for NYC, meaning in most other places it would be classified as a closet. With his height, he has to duck to make it through the threshold of your door and can barely stand upright without banging his head against the ceiling. It’s ironic that the window entrance is probably less hazardous for him.

You get him a plate of cake and set it on the table in front of him, delicately placing the dessert fork on the side.

"Sorry, I don't have any cookies for you today, just coffee cake."

The sight of him sitting hunched over your Ingatorp IKEA dining table is slightly comical. The table looks like a miniature doll set against his broad frame, and as he picks up the small dessert fork in his large hand, that only adds to the absurdity of the situation. He looks like he’s playing at having a tea party with a child’s play tea set.

You sit down across from him, watching him intently, trying to gather the nerve to ask the questions you've been dying to ask since this all started. But you're hesitant and fumbling, stumbling on your words like an idiot, "Uhm, so I wanted to ask if you– if you knew why all of this is happening to–"

"No."

You frown at his interruption. "You didn't let me finish," you protest.

He leans back against his chair, waving away your protests dismissively into the air. "I didn't need you to. The answer is no. Next question."

You bite down on your lip to stave off the curse stuck in your throat, trying to force its way out. You hold it. Stemming the tide, as you focus on the task at hand.

"Who are you?"

His head tilts to the side at your question, as his hand draws up and gestures vaguely over the spider emblem of his costume draped over his chest. "Isn't it obvious?" he snarkily responds, "I'm Spiderman"

Great, he's a rude and sassy superhero. You narrow your eyes at him

"You're not the Spiderman I know of."

He doesn't respond to that. Just glares down at the cake as he pierces it with a sharp stab of the fork, making the porcelain underneath clank. Then he scoops a large spoonful and shovels it into his mouth.

God, who eats cake so angrily?

"Why did you save–" you start, but he holds up one finger, motioning for you to pause.

He cleaves off another piece of cake and shoves it into his mouth, chewing slowly. You watch as he beats the Guinness record of slowest chewer across the table from you, before you finally get to repeat your question.

"Why do you keep saving me?"

"I'm a superhero. I save people. It's what I do."

Bright irritation pings through you at his sarcastic attitude.

This is like playing the world's shittiest game of 20 Questions, except here the whole goal of the game is to see whose sanity cracks first.

Naively, you had thought that being able to sit down with him in person would mean you could finally start getting some answers. You hadn't been expecting the need to deploy strategic maneuvers, and you pause, taking your time before you speak.

You need to pick a question he won't be able to evade. You think back at the footage of the nanny-cam, that time he carried you to bed. The worry when you weren't where he expected you to be. The over-familiarity that seeps out of his every action with you as if he already knows you and that the last thing you heard as you fell off the ledge was his voice calling out your name.

"How did you know my name?" you finally ask him.

His back stiffens at the question, jaw grinding down until the small muscle there flexes with irritation.

"I don't."

Liar.

"You called my name when I fell," you remind him.

This time instead of answering, he slides the now empty plate at you across the table.

"Can I have another slice?"

You frown. It's an obvious ploy to buy himself some time to avoid answering your question. But you can't deny his request either.

With a sigh, you push away your chair to bring the plate to the counter. You cut up an obscenely big slice so that he won't be able to use this as an excuse a second time.

Turning back around, you find that the gluttonous self-proclaimed Spiderman is pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks a little worse for wear, a pained expression etched into those tightly knitted brows.

"Are you okay?" you ask, concerned.

"No. I–" He breaks off, his broad palm gripping the back of the chair, and you notice a slight tremor in his fingers. "Something’s wrong."

He pushes the chair back, trying to get to his feet, but to your surprise, he stumbles and sways.

He seems just as surprised as you are at his newfound lack of coordination.

"What the–" He looks down on his feet with concentrated effort. Then he takes another step. It's wobblier than the one before, his knee giving way, and his arm shoots out to grip at the edge of your table for balance.

Alarm bells start to go off in your head. You don't understand what's happening, but he's definitely right, something is wrong. A man that can gracefully scale down the Chrysler building from 72 floors down shouldn't be struggling this much just to take two steps back in your living room.

"Maybe you should sit back down," you suggest, looking up at him. There’s a slight sheen of perspiration that's settled on his forehead. The beginnings of a rosy flush tinting his cheeks. "Do you have any food allergies?"

"No. I don't. No. Super metabolism kind of cuts down on that sort of–” he’s stumbling over his words, each syllable slurred on his tongue, as he shakes his head at you. “No, no allergies. No food sensitivities of any kind except...."

He glares around wildly and his eyes land on the remaining slice of cake perched on your kitchen counter.

"Did you put fucking coffee in that cake?!?!"

“"Yes?” You whip around, and look at the cake on your counter, not understanding the relevance of his question. “I mean... It's a coffee cake? I told you that!"

You push aside your growing panic as you try to remember if the EpiPen stored away in your kitchen cupboard is past its expiration.

"You didn't tell me there was coffee in it!"

Is he serious?

"I said ‘coffee cake’! What else would be in there? It's in the name," you snap.

And god, you can't believe this is what you're arguing with him about at this moment.

"Okay, yeah," he concedes testily, "but coffee cake is its own thing too! Isn’t coffee cake just… cake... that you, like... serve with coffee? It doesn't have coffee in it! Why the fuck does it have coffee in it?"

Does the man even hear himself? You're trying to figure out if you need to call an ambulance, and he is arguing with you on the technicalities of what constitutes coffee cake.

"Okay, wait, but are you dying?" you ask, trying to stay calm despite the pandemonium of panic ringing in your head.

"No! I'm just intoxitac– intocita– intoshica– I'm just fucking drunk okay!?" he spits out.

Your brain stalls at his statement. Intoxicated!? When did he have time to drink? He seemed fine just a few minutes ago, but now he's slurring and about to topple over.

"You're drunk? How–"

"Spiders get drunk on coffee," he interrupts, and the flush on his cheek deepens to a deep alarming red. If you didn't know better, you'd almost think he was blushing.

"Okay, let's sit you down." You rush over, rounding your dining table as you reach for him.

At the sight of your extended hands, his eyes widen in alarm, He steps back from you, eyeing you like you're something dangerous.

"No. No, I'm–" he takes another step backwards, flinging himself away from your touch, but loses his footing in the process. He tilts over, hand grappling for the edge of the table as he goes, but instead of the edge he manages to take the cake plate with him on the way down.

There's a clank of shattered porcelain, followed by the loud thud of his body hitting the ground.

With the large size of him in your tiny studio apartment and the breaking of porcelain left and right, this feels like the idiom of a bull running wild in a China shop, come to life.

You reach out your hand to help him get up, but he doesn't acknowledge it, anchoring his elbow to the floor for leverage, only to wobble and fall flat against his back again with an angry curse.

Why is he so goddamned stubborn?

You glance down at him, this gigantic man that is lying sprawled out on the floor with the gravitas of a turtle trapped on its back. He's so huge that he's eating up half of the floor space of your entire home. If he doesn’t get up, you won't be able to take two steps without accidentally stepping on him.

Shaking your head in disbelief at the ridiculousness of the situation, you hunch down on your knees beside him.

There's hesitation etched in those otherworldly crimson eyes as you come near. But as much as he's scowling at you, baring his fangs and trying to look scary, there isn't much he can do from the floor.

"Let me help you," you insist, "let's get you in bed until it wears off. I can't have you passed out on my floor like this."

He takes your outstretched hand, and you pull backwards, trying to bring him up with you. Between the two of you, you manage to get him on his feet again. Barely.

Whoa.

You crane your head up, up, up til you meet his eyes. Yup, the man is still huge. Must be damn near 7 feet tall and heavy, and you quickly realize there's not much you can do but try to steer so that he falls in the direction of your bed.

Somehow you manage to shepherd him in the right direction, until his knees hit the edges of your bed. He lands with a dramatic thud and you hear your bed frame groan in protest.

“Do you need anything?” you ask, but he doesn’t answer you. His broad arm drapes over his eyes, blocking you out.

You sigh, turning on your heels to clean up the mess of coffee cake and broken plates off your floor.

You barely manage to finish sweeping up the floor before you hear soft snoring filling your home.

Knock-off Spiderman is sound asleep, his large shape curled up on your mattress, entirely still.

You settle yourself back at the dining table, eating the leftover coffee cake as you pull up a book on your phone and wait for him to wake.

This was not how you had imagined your first extended interaction would turn out.

Honestly, you can't make sense of any of your interactions with him. How he's constantly avoiding you, yet can't seem to stay away and routinely checks in on you.

How he acts overly familiar in one instance and excessively rude and put off by you the next.

Maybe you remind him of someone else... Maybe even an ex? It feels weird to speculate, but it would explain a lot of things. His belligerent attitude towards you. The way he looks at you with eyes full of resentment, even as he's saving you from certain death. That look in his eyes like he knows you, even though you've never met him.

It doesn't explain how he knows your name though.

From the bed, you can hear him stir, shifting against the mattress with a quiet groan muffled into your pillow. He's softly murmuring something that you can't quite make out, and then he turns in his sleep again, making a pained noise that makes worry squeeze tight in your chest.

Maybe letting him sleep it off wasn't the brightest idea you've had. You probably should've called for the ambulance as soon as he showed physical signs of distress.

You're not a biologist. You don't know how a hybrid spider-human’s physiology works.

What if he's not just drunk? Whoever heard of coffee making someone drunk! And how could it affect him so quickly? There was barely a minute between him stuffing his face and falling all over the place. Some quick, panicked googling confirms that coffee makes spiders a kind of drunk, but it doesn’t say if it’s outright toxic to them.

Oh fuck, what if he's dying!? Oh god, what if a superhero dies in your bed? How will you explain this to your landlord? Or the police! “I fed him coffee cake, and it killed him, officer.” Right, that’s going to go over like a lead balloon! It’ll probably look like you poisoned him. TMZ will be swarming the place. You'll be classified as a supervillain.

Setting down the book, you make your way over to sit on the edge of your bed. You lean over his sleeping form and peer down at him, checking for any signs of physical distress.

That red flush from earlier is still riding high on his cheeks, looking like the beginnings of a fever. You reach out your hand to rest it on his forehead to check his temperature.

Warm.

He stirs at the touch, turning his face and practically nuzzles into your palm. It’s almost endearing as he buries his sharp nose into your wrist.

You hold your breath, worried that exhaling would be loud enough to wake him as you gaze down on him. Up close like this, when he's not being rude, and stubborn and defensive, he's... quite attractive.

He has the kind of sculpted face that Hollywood dreams are made of, angular jaw and a prominent nose that makes him look regal. Not to mention those chiselled cheeks of his are a fucking marvel to look at. But more than that, curled up asleep in your bed, there’s a gentle softness to his features that hadn’t been noticeable when he was awake.

Now that he’s not frowning down at you and the line of his mouth isn’t pulled into an angry snarl, you can see that his lips are full and luscious, delicate even. His heavy brows look less intimidating now that his face has relaxed from its perpetual scowl.

He looks... soft, somehow.

There's a spark of something heated in your veins that has you feeling flushed and warm. You have to turn your eyes, shaking your head and tutting at yourself, because you’re creeping on the drunk guy passed out on your bed, and it’s not a good look on you.

The commotion makes him stir, his eyes blink softly open. He looks up at you, with half-lidded eyes, and it's different from how he's looked at you up until now. His gaze is still so…. soft.

"Nena," he says quietly.

Your cheeks warm at the warmth in his voice , and you gently pull your hand away from his forehead.

"Sorry, I was just checking if you were okay," you explain awkwardly as you start to back away from him, sliding your knee along the mattress to climb off the bed.

At your movement, he darts upright into a seated position and pulls you to him, clinging onto every inch of you as he buries his face to your side.

“Don't go,” he murmurs into your neck. His voice is trembling, and you can feel the panic radiating from him as the grip he has on you tightens until it’s bruising.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he says, keeps repeating it. You don’t know what he’s apologizing for but the guilt and sadness in his voice tugs at something deep inside your chest.

Nena, he said, and you realize that even though you're the one he's holding in this moment, he's not talking to you. He thinks you're someone else.

"Please don't leave me again. I-I can't–" he chokes out the words into the hollow of your throat where he's pressed his face tight into your skin. You can't help but notice the damp wetness that gathers there. "I'm trying, but I can't– I don't know how to do this without you."

The words are raw in his throat, and despite your confusion, your chest squeezes tight with a sympathetic ache at the man's obvious heartbreak.

You don't know what's going on here or who he thinks you are. The only thing you know is that you want to make him feel better. To make his hurt a little less painful. To make the consuming guilt you can hear in his voice a little bit smaller.

"It's okay," you say.

What the it refers to, you have no idea. But the least you can do is to give the man who has saved your life over and over, a tiny crumb of comfort.

You return his embrace, circling an arm around his shoulder, matching the tightness with which he’s holding you. Your other hand slides into his hair and he shivers at the touch, face burying deeper into your neck.

"I'll protect you,” he murmurs into your skin, “I can do better this time. Keep you safe. I promise.”

"It's okay. It’s okay. I’m already safe," you reassure him, giving him the only truth you know for sure in this moment, "You saved me."

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: as always to my collaborator on this series, who helps me brainstorm, write, edit and beta-read and everything in between and over with this series. This exists because of her, and I am so grateful to her. The hours I spend shouting into her DMs and bother her on the daily since this series infected my mind. You guys don't know what I put poor @thirstworldproblemss through.

Also to @guruan who was kind enough to read through this and steer me in the right way with the spanish, but also for giving me porn that has kept my brain buzzing for days!!!

Please follow both of these insanely lovely, kind and talented people.

Author's note: the Spanish in this chapter has been left untranslated on purpose, so that it's left ambiguous whether reader speak/understand Spanish. The idea is that if you as a reader understand it, then so does the reader, and vice versa 🥰

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #oscar isaac #spider man: across the spider verse #marvel #miguel ohara x reader #spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you

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n3ptoonz · 5 months

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mk1 hcs: how the earthrealm guys react when you ride them

this broadcast is brought to you by getting inspired from @dirtymortalkombatconfessions tysm for fueling my raunchy mind 🙏🏾 outworld guys here

all the guys here are submissive in these hcs cause i don't see it enough!!! and reader is GN

explicit content below the cut

Smoke

first of all it's his favorite position. nothing he loves more than holding his partner in his arms while they have power over him at the same time

HE. WHIMPERS. A LOT!!!!

CANNOT keep his hands still he's always massaging or caressing some part of your body

begs. he begs. if you stop moving? he will deadass start tearing up and whispering pleas all in your ear

hold his face while you do it. look him in the ideas and give him praise && give him kisses 😔 he's got enough shit from bi han and this the only way he properly relaxes 💔

Raiden

he's not very vocal at first, but he does sigh and grunt a lot

when he's vocal? he's not loud, but curses up a storm. his eyes get all hazy and glossed over too like you gotta tap him back to reality sometimes

he can get handsy but prefers to either keep his hands in place or have them restrained in some way

speaking of which if you do restrain his hands there's a good chance he'll start bucking once he's close and try to pull free. silly goose, we know how to tie knots around here!

if you get really close to his face like holding it or just looking at him he can and will just start mumbling about how good you make him feel/how you're the only one who makes him feel like this

Kung Lao

(turns on self indulgence beam) ahem taps mic is this thing on??

lao is a praise kink BITCH you understand??? and since he's full of himself he for sure will not shy away from whimpering and groaning loud as hell just to hear his own voice

you give him praise and BOOM suddenly it's upturned eyebrows and beads of tears at the corners of his eyes. he will ask you to repeat what you said over and over

once his pride wears out he's a begging mess like smoke. he's super handsy but in the way where he's acting like you're gonna disappear before he nuts. i cracking up at the thought of that

afterwords "did i do good?" or "was i a good boy?" AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHG hey im normal don't give me that look. ALSO PLAY WITH HIS HAIR he's a sucker for it (glad i can say that now he's not bald)(love you mk11 lao i swear)

Kenshi Takahashi

oooo this sensual romantic ass man. sensual romantic ASS man (he likes ass)

he's not a loud guy or it's just rare. his hands aren't gonna go anywhere but your ass though. MAYBE your thighs, but it's always back to ass!

less on whimpering more on grunting but there's occasional cracks in his voice when feels really good. he only full on whimpers if you go fast and gets closer faster from the pace

please for the love of god leave some sort of marks on this man's neck. it drives him CRAZYYYY he'll be cursing like he's never done before especially cause he WILL return the favor

like raiden if you give his face more love especially around his eyes it's up for him you're going to be told how perfect and how good only you can make him feel for the next 72 hours

Johnny Cage

BRAT. he's a brat. Johnny John Carlton Cage is a B R A T

you will have to physically shut him up and that was his mission accomplished. don't let his hands be free either cause he'll keep trying to take control (and keep failing every single time)(again, this was allll part of the plan)

when he's completely helpless at your disposal...bottom bitch alert! whiny whimpering grunting sighing giggling you name it CENTRAL. he the type to whine about being restricted when it was literally his own idea in the first place

he's a praise kink bitch too i mean come on THE johnny cage ik you weren't expecting otherwise. tell him he's a good boy but also call him your bitch oh how he loves it

and by the way... record. everything. he'll watch those tapes back like they're old school vhs memories

Liu Kang

how you got a god to submit to you is beyond anyone's belief. but who cares?! drain that mf (balls)

he absolutely positively loves loves LOVES eye contact. you look him in the eyes long enough it's like your souls are fuckin too (literally that scene with him and titan kitana except you're looking down at him everybodyshutthefuckup)

give him a bunch of kisses pls pls pls he craves it he adores it CARNALLY. very very handsy man there's no part of you that goes untouched.

he's too calm to be loud but he does grunt and will have dragged out moans that result in a higher pitched tone

surprise, even a god could use some praise every now and then!!! he blushes the most whenever you call him perfect or tell him he's doing great even with all that's on his plate on the daily <3

Sub Zero

this stubborn fucker. just pull his hair and give him the same look he gives everybody and he's all yours cause then he'll look like this (i cannot stop referring to this picture)

in the privacy of your shared room (idc if this is ooc this is tumblr god damn it) he's a stuttering mess and cannot keep his hands off your hips and thighs for anything so prepare for those areas to have frostbite

there are times where his hands slide up your back when he's close, and by this time his furrowed brows and sharp gaze are completely gone. he's looking up at you like you've descended just to give him the ride of his life (bc you did obviously)

if he whimpers it's raspy and deep. he generally grunts and groans and a lot of profane language coming from them lips

however comma it's rare he'll shudder and whine like a lil bitch if he can't touch you oooo and he's a bucker too

Scorpion

last but certainly not least this sexy mf. i fully fully believe that he would not hesitate to submit to someone he's in love with (you hahaha)

you don't even need to pull his hair just glide your fingers through it he's set for life. he sighs and just smiles, you're so good to him

he's not very vocal but he certainly whines and has shallower breaths when he's close. when he looks up at you he has to try his hardest not to bust right there cause damnnn you fine as hail

thigh man thigh man thigh man. oh, did i say thigh man? i meant to say HE'S A THIGH MAN. and neck, like kenshi don't even think about getting up off of him without a bunch of marks on his neck and shoulders if ya feelin freekie

if you pull his hair he will cum. and you heard that from me.

ask box is open! <3

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prismatic-bell · 2 months

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Levant history/present situation question: do you know why Egypt isn't taking in refugees from Gaza? Thanks for offering to answer questions

Hey! Sorry this took so long for me to answer; I just had a 72-hour work week and my brain was spaghetti. Let’s see what I can do here.

So first, I’m going to say a lot of this is going to be educated guesses because there’s a lot that’s unknown. With that said, I don’t think any of these guesses are unreasonable.

To begin with, Egypt’s stated reason is that they think if Palestinians are allowed to settle in Egypt, they’ll never be able to go back to Israel. I think this is true, as far as it goes; that’s certainly a valid concern about the current war.

With that said, I don’t think that’s the only reason. Until 1967, Egypt actually controlled the Gaza Strip; it lost possession thereof in the Six-Day War, which Israel initiated after Egypt blockaded all shipping to Israel. What it discovered during that time is that Palestine is difficult to maintain, manage, or rule; Israel offered to return the Sinai Peninsula to Egypt after its victory in the war but didn’t include Gaza in this offer, and Egypt didn’t fight for it. I suspect at least part of the lessons they learned before 1967 lead to their reluctance now. (Incidentally, Jordan also learned this lesson. They expelled their Palestinians and stopped trying to retake the West Bank around the same time.)

Palestinians also have a tendency to bring terrorism with them when they move. They’ve been expelled from several countries as a result, including Kuwait, where they backed Saddam Hussein’s invasion and annexation attempt. I’d imagine this plays a role, as well; the big players in Gaza (mostly Hamas these days) are open admirers of terrorism. Egypt has a peace agreement with Israel, and taking in a group known to commit pogroms and to have endorsed genocide of the Jewish people would probably not go over well for them, especially given the US backs Israel.

The third reason I suspect is at play is one that does disservice to Israelis and Palestinians both, and it’s another reason the UN and UNWRA are hopelessly corrupt. Let me show you three people living in America:

This is Ahmed. His parents were targeted in Afghanistan by al-Qaeda in the 1990s, and fled to America. Here, Ahmed put down roots, and applied for citizenship when he was 22.

This is a second Ahmed. His grandparents fled Iran when the Ayatollah took power. His parents were born in the US, and so was Ahmed.

This is a third Ahmed. His great-grandparents left Israel-Palestine during the 1948 Arab-Israeli War. Ahmed’s grandparents, parents, and Ahmed himself were all born on US soil. Ahmed has never set foot in the MENA region—not Palestine, not Israel, not Egypt or Iraq or Iran or Sudan or ANYWHERE. He grew up in a middle-class home in Illinois and speaks no Arabic; indeed, the only reason he has an Arabic name is because he was named for his grandfather. His friends mostly call him Eddie. Ahmed has expressed little to no interest in Palestine.

One of the three Ahmeds is considered a refugee by the UN. Do you know which one?

…..yeah.

Palestinians are the only group on earth for whom this is true, by the way. If you’re a refugee from anywhere else, you stop being a refugee the moment you get citizenship in a new country, and only people who actually fled a country—not their descendants born elsewhere—are considered refugees. Hell, Palestinians BORN IN GAZA OR THE WEST BANK AND STILL LIVING THERE are considered refugees. You literally cannot be of Palestinian descent and not be a refugee.

So my suspicion for the actual biggest reason is this special treatment Palestinians receive from the UN. Egypt would be in a damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don’t situation in which giving the Palestinians citizenship would be seen as “ceding to Israel” but not doing so would be “contributing to the plight of Palestinians,” and no amount of aid they provided would ever be considered enough. Frankly if I was the leader of a country I wouldn’t want to take them in under those conditions either. (Hence why I say the UN is doing a disservice to the Palestinians with this—they’re disincentivizing countries that might otherwise help.)

So there you have it: their stated reason and also what I think are some reasonable suppositions as to further reasons.

#you ask nina answers #Nina blogs Judaism

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domreader-headcannon-scenarios · 26 days

Text

This BECANE SO LONGI’m not proofreading…

Leviathan x Reader x Foras

Cw Reader cucks Leviathan with a servant who is ‘cloaked, slight dub con voyerism, slight dub con hand job, Public stuff, teasing, spur of the moment threesome

It was a rare sight to see Leviathan so livid, yet, no one was hurt, quite the opposite actually.

While you sat in another person’s lap, right in front you sat Leviathan, your partner. He was watching you ride a random (to him) demon while he’s left naked and tied up, unable to even touch himself as he watches you.

The demon with you was using Foras’ ability, he knew that, but he wasn’t certain if, it was in fact, his most trusted and loyal servant. He growled, baring his teeth at the thought.

If it wasn’t humiliating enough to be exposed to one of his minions like this, he didn’t even know which one it was.

He tried to stay quiet, even as the sound of your flesh slapping against yours, he tried to listen to any sound they make, thinking he could use it to identify them. He even closes his eyes to focus better, but right as he thinks he can hear their voice.

You must have noticed since with take advantage of the fact he cant see with his eyes closed, and land a harsh slap on his defenseless groin, getting lucky hit and hitting just below the base, getting his cock and balls.

“Ah! The h-hell was that for?” He groans, glaring at you as the throbbing between his legs got worse. He needed to cum, but he wanted to focus on the man penetrating you. After-all, it’s not like he could ask someone else about this.

As king, he refuses to go to his minions and ask ‘Do you know the demon that cucked me?’ Or anything along those lines.

His attention is once again pulled away from the other demon while you grab the base of his cock, squeezing it in an agonizingly tight grip.

Leviathan hates the pathetic moan he lets out, to his humiliation if it wasn’t for your hand, he’d have cum from just a tight squeeze.

“Focus on the show, Levi.”

You teased him, to his horror his cock bobbed, letting all three of you see how much he enjoys this. To his surprise the other male demon whines, on instinct his attention is drawn to look where the man’s face would be (judging by the noise) and he realizes by your position…

You are letting the other demon lay his upper body on yours, chest to back…that demons weight is on you…

He snarls without noticing, getting caught off guard with another slap to his groin.

But you released the grip on his cock, Leviathan let out a surprised whine as he cums.

He looks at his cock in horror. Is he truly so depraved he just got off to being slapped, twice?

He threw his head back in frustration, thrusting forwards subconsciously.

He needs to kill the demon your with!

He cant let ANY of his subordinates see him like this!

As he’s throwing a mini tantrum. He suddenly stops, a thought clicking in his head. He looks begrudgingly between your legs.

You’d been cruel, allowing him to see to see your body opening for the invisible cock.

He’s seen how you stretch for his own cock, and the demon your riding right now, is smaller than him.

He feels his own cock twitch as a small sense of pride fills him.

That’s…all he can recognize, he knows it isn’t Glaysa, given the size…but that leaves so many demons.

He groans internally…trying to estimate the general size of the cock. Leviathan thinks to himself he could…’inspect’ his subordinates, he doesn’t need a reason, he knows his subordinates would let him do anything…

His eyes twitch as he sees cum drip from your opening…

That’s it…he is definitely punishing whoever this is.

To dare to penetrate you in front of him, watch him be humiliated, THEN to cum INSIDE you…

Leviathan bites his lip as he suppressed a growl. He can faintly hear low moans escaping the demon, the tone…he knows it’s one of his devils, one of the 72.

He knows Foras is the only one who can make anyone invisible…he’d have to ‘inspect’ him first.

He loses his thoughts once more as he sees you clenching down in the invisible cock, he realizes that you have climaxed too. On the other males cock.

He grimaced at the thought. He collapsed against the bed, knowing he’s not going to be untied until the other make gets a good head start.

He watches as they slip out of you, their cock covered in cum, a mix of both of yours. You help him clean up, using a cloth to clean the cum off him and yourself. Levithan can hear the grunt from the demon as you nearly stroke his cock while getting the essences of you both off him.

Leviathan’s eyes narrow as the other demon leaves while he’s still tied, and you’re cleaning him up. Leviathan moans, feeling you take his cock into your hand and rather roughly rubbing it dry. He can hear the door to his room open and close, but you still wait to untie him. By the time you start to untie him, he realizes it would be too late to find the minion right away…

He’d have to run around the palace and find the nearest demons…he can ‘inspect’ them, if he’s fast enough he might find them…but…you’re holding him while untying him, leaving him wanting to stay…

Hell, he will search later…he knows if he takes off you’d probably chase after him…

The following day, Levithan had made a plan to isolate nearly all his followers, and check them, his first would of course be Foras, as he could outright ask him who he helped hide, or even if it was him.

Levithan’s blood boiled at the thought…true he made the order that none of his demons were allowed ALONE with you…he should have ordered them to not be allowed to touch you like that…

He finds his target fast enough. Foras is alone like usual, he shoved Foras against a wall, blocking his exits.

“Last night. Were you the one who was with me and (M/c)? If it wasn’t, I need to know now who it was.”

Leviathan growled out, when Foras flinched back against the wall and offered no info he decided plan b was his only option…

He unzipped Foras’s pants, reaching in and pulling down his underwear enough to reveal his cock. Foras jumped and tried to push his hands away, or at least tuck his cock away before his king could see it.

“You’re Majesty! W-what is going on? W-why are you-“

Foras gasped and was caught off as to his horror Levithan was stroking him. In a public hall.

“I saw how they stretched, I have a rough estimate of their size. Get hard faster.”

Leviathan said as if it was an order. Foras heard footsteps coming and wanted to hide…but he couldn’t…not with Leviathan keeping a watchful eye on him.

“Your Majesty Leviathan…please I hear someone coming.” Foras whimpered out. He didn’t even get a reaction form Levithan, until he felt Levithan squeeze him with near crushing force, his cock visibly deflating from its barely hard state and going limp.

He didn’t need to hear Levithan speak to know he’d been caught.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

Leviathan growled, squeezing his subordinates cock torturously, he ignored the footsteps getting closer. He towered over Foras, looking down upon him as Foras visibly shrank.

Leviathan stepped in front of Foras to hide his exposed genitals, still in Levithan’s hand as he hid his servants shame from the person walking in.

Levithan instantly tightened his grip even more so as he sees you walking through the door. He debates releasing Foras and punishing him later but you waltz on over smiling.

You had to have been suspicious he’d do this as without hesitation he sees you aiming to separate him from Foras, you stop though seeing Levithan’s hand…on Foras’s cock, which was completely limp, red at the tip undoubtedly from the the pressure trapped in it.

“What did I miss?” You force Levithan to release Foras, having to physically pry his hand off. “Leviathan, I didn’t know you like cock…I’d have invited someone sooner if I knew.”

You tease, to get his attention on you, and to pull attention away from Foras. Leviathan growls.

“It was him, I saw how big he was while you rode him. He shouldnt have touched you.” Levithan snarls. “I’m going to punish hi-“

Leviathan stops and watches as you drop to your knees in front of Foras, gently kissing his cock, kissing the bruises Levithan left.

“Stop.”

Leviathan said, in a low rasp in his voice as you see surprise and anger across his face. “You…how long have you two been?” He says…seemingly more upset seeing how Foras is getting hard so fast from you, while he struggled to get his minion erect.

He wanted to pull you two apart but…seeing you two made him ache, he wanted to be involved, not push Foras away and have you for himself…

Maybe he needed to fuck around with Foras to feel better?

After that thought he approaches you two, grabbing his hand and placing it over his lap, right as you take Foras’ cock into your mouth. Foras whimpers in confusion, accepting both the roles he’s being pushed in.

He tries to stroke Levithan. He tries to mirror how you touch him, he has never…done this kind of thing…he knows how to touch himself but not another male.

You hum in approval, before you could do anything else Foras spoke up. “Please, can you two please…wait till we are in private?”

Leviathan scoffed and growled at him.

“You can just make us invisible if anyone comes.”

You do stop even as Levithan argues. “We should, I’d like to be on a more comfortable area too.” You get up, helping them both tuck themselves away.

Leviathan dragged you two to his bedroom, throwing Foras onto the bed and placing you down. When Foras attempted to move back Leviathan grabbed him and pulled him back.

“Levi, gentle.” You ordered, slapping his cock as payback. Leviathan groaned in response, letting go of Foras. Foras looked to you with a mix of respect and admiration. Leviathan seemed to get more agitated at that.

“Thank you, (M/c). I appreciate i-it.” He gently wrapped an arm around you, only to get pulled closer to Levithan. “Y-your Majesty?”

Leviathan push him with force down against the bed, getting between his legs. “Have a seat.” He says to you, helping you straddle Foras. Said demon whimpers as you are seated against his cock, you two quickly remove his clothes, leaving you seated on his cock.

Foras is flushed realizing quickly that Leviathan is punishing him with you not knowing. He knows your not gonna let him inside you just to avoid an outburst from Leviathan…and Leviathan was teasing him by not letting him have you…

You roll your hips against his cock, enjoying the friction. Leviathan on the other hand lifts up Foras’ hips and slips himself rather quickly and half hazardly into Foras, earning a whimper. While your movements are gentle, pleasant movements, Leviathans’ are rough and careless.

The dual stimulation made Foras whimper, turning invisible to hide his blushing. Of course the two of you don’t need to see him to keep going, and in seconds you feel a familiar wetness between your legs you glance down to see cum pouring from his invisible cock. Foras is whimpering and gasping, you hear Levithan growl as he thrust faster.

“There we go…that feels better.” Leviathan teasingly moaned, leaning into you. Leviathan grins down at Foras as he places his weight into you while you rub yourself against Foras. Leviathan locks eyes with him over your shoulder and Foras freezes realizing.

Leviathan is mimicking how he was leaning on you last night…to prove to Foras he can’t have you only to himself.

#nsft #whb #what in hell is bad #sub whb #dom reader #sub Foras #sub leviathan #leviathan x reader x foras #Foras x reader x leviathan #Foras x Reader #leviathan x reader #leviathan x mc #Foras x mc

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flynnriderishot · 1 month

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literally begging and crying on my knees for a toxic chris fic 🙏🏽😇 i was gonna go on anon but my thoughts plead to be heard

i will be - c.s

a/n: this is a LOT more sad than it was supposed to be 💀 i’m going through it

toxic! chris will be coming in another fic because idk where the hell i went with this 🤦🏾‍♀️

he was doing it again.

pretending you didn’t exist.

it was exhausting dating someone that treated you so poorly. but of course, you loved chris, so even knowing that you deserved better, you couldn’t find it in yourself to leave.

you’ve told chris that you hate the way he treats you, and he’s continuously said that you were thinking too much into it.

for a while, you believed him. you knew you were an over thinker, it was one of your biggest flaws. you grew used to the thought of doubting your relationship and chalking it up to you overthinking and self sabotaging.

but as you watched him whisper in her ear, you began to realize that it was he who was sabotaging things.

sabotaging something he claimed was so dead to him.

your face was void of emotion as you stared ahead at someone who you knew as your boyfriend, someone that nearly everyone at this party knew was your boyfriend. possibly even the girl that giggled at whatever lame pickup line he was using on her as if you weren’t a mere few feet away from them.

a hand met your shoulder, startling you away from your thoughts. you blinked harshly, thinking that maybe the blurriness in your eyes would have been the tears forming, only to soon realize that you couldn’t cry about it anymore.

it hurt, truly, but it’s happened so many times that you’ve wasted all your tears.

you’ve wasted so much time begging for him to treat you the way he did when it was just you two- showering you with kisses and hugs, whispering sweet nothings into your ear when you went to bed together.

or, at least you used to think you went to bed together. you came to a quick conclusion that he would go to bed with another girl and return before you could wake up.

you didn’t know what hurt more- the fact that he treated someone else the way he did you, giving her his most precious parts of himself and sealing it all with a gentle peck on the lips. or the fact that he treated someone else the way he did you, giving her cuddles and sealing his empty promises with forehead kisses and promises of the future.

you believed it was the latter that hurt the worst.

sex was sex, and that hurt to see he was so willing to give that part of himself to another girl when he swore he keep himself for you and you only. but it nearly tore your heart to shreds to know that the most intimate moments you shared with him didn’t mean anything as he was promising the same to another through his sweet whispers and back rubs.

“you okay?”

you looked away from chris as he glanced in your direction, letting out a breath of air. the breath of air that allowed you realize that it was time to let go.

“no. but i will be.”

taglist: @hearts4chris @timmyandsturniolo @mayhem-72 @luvsturns @knowingnothingnoel @mrsmattyb @itzdarling @julliaaaaaaaaaaaaa @dracoflaco @heartsforchrisandmatt @lily-strnlo @alliehansson @stinkytwinkwinky @mstarniolo

#sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine

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itsabouttimex2 · 4 months

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Do you have any headcanons for after an escape attempt with each monkey demon ( Mk , Monkey king and macaque) What would be their reaction at first? What would they do when they find you? How stricter would they get? What would they start doing differently after the attempt?

MK, as usual, has very different responses depending on the season he’s in.

Season 1 MK probably doesn’t even consider the possibility that Y/N could “escape”. This is when the relationship between the two of you is at it’s healthiest, before this poor boy goes through hell and back.

You aren’t locked up, he doesn’t have you hidden away, there’s nowhere that you’re explicitly forbidden to go- there’s nothing to escape from. His assumption isn’t “Y/N is running away from me!” or “I can’t let them escape!” but instead, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Y/N… so I’ll drop everything to go visit them right now!”

Sometimes he abandons all prior goals to run off and see you. Sometimes he rushes through a fight and ends it a little more… fiercely than his opponents would have liked.

Once the trauma starts rolling in and Y/N becomes his coping mechanism as much as they are his friend, MK starts to personally define exactly what counts as “escape”.

You aren’t allowed to leave his side without telling where you’ll be going and when you’ll be back. If you’re a competent enough fighter to take on a Bull Clone or two, he won’t push this ‘rule’ as hard. And if you can’t do that?

Then MK makes a serious push for you to train with him. He’ll beg and pester Wukong to teach you at least some of the 72 Transformations as a form of defending yourself or getting out of nasty scrapes without his help. Eventually, his mentor concedes (after some serious bribery on MK’s part) and allows you to take part in the sessions.

But until you can reasonably take care of yourself against two or three opponents at once, MK is by your side every minute he gets the chance. Running off or giving him the slip means little once he’s mastered his Gold Vision, which he does very quickly. Or he can extend his pole to the skies to get a much better view of the surrounding area to see exactly where you ran off to.

Give him the slip too many times, and MK will tie your wrist to his with his headband, ensuring that you don’t get “lost” as he drags you along after him.

“C’mon, Y/N! I already got permission from Pigsy for you to stay the night!”

“That’s sweet of you both, really… but last time I stayed the night, it turned into a week.”

“I know! That was the best, wasn’t it?! Maybe this time, we can stretch it out to a month!”

Sun Wukong will let it slide once. Just once, he’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, choosing to believe that you wouldn’t go running off with a very good reason. After that, his restrictions mount and your freedoms decline one by one. Each consecutive escape brings you one step close to being locked inside Shuilian Cave, where he decides that you are safest.

But that’s for a later day, once you’ve run his trust dry.

For now, he believes in you.

So he’ll let you leave, giving you a single day to tend to whatever business that you needed to attend to so urgently that you left.

All alone. In the middle of the night. With a single packed bag.

Wukong will let this one first escape slide, because lord only knows that he’s pulled so many horseshit antics that his kid/friend/student/whatever Y/N is running off once isn’t that big of a deal. And really…

He wants to believe in you here. He wants to think that this is something you’re doing for a very good reason, instead of just being a desperate attempt to get away from him.

When the single day he allots you is over and done, you can start counting out your precious, meager minutes of freedom one by one.

In less than an hour, his flying cloud blazes through the sky and blisters the earth like a comet, leaving a crater of destruction and cinders where it lands.

And aboard the vaporous mount is none other the Great Sage himself, arms folded and grin forced.

“Hey there, bud. You been out here having fun, huh?”

No vigor or vim to line his words. No electric cheer to fuel his fluid movements. No warmth in his tone.

It’s almost hard to call him Sun Wukong.

But it is him here, and he’s here for you. He offers you a hand, stiff and tense. The way the acts makes it clear there’s no choice but to take it, not when the air grows thick and the tension is stormy.

“C’mon, bud. Time to head home.”

Pre-Season 4 Macaque is the only one on this list that’s immoral enough to outright kidnap someone, in my opinion. MK might guilt you into staying with him, and while Sun Wukong would technically commit kidnapping, it’s by virtue of not letting you leave instead of forcibly taking you away. It’d be more along the lines of false imprisonment.

But Macaque?

If all his careful maneuvers and schemes prove inefficient in keeping you close, he’ll switch to brute force in the blink of an eye.

Macaque; at the start, gently manipulates you. His shackles are first gossamer, innocuous and kind. He builds you up and tears you down in increments, never swaying too far to either side. You never feel confident enough to leave, never feel hurt enough to lash out.

He doesn’t chase after you. He makes you feel unstable and dependent, then molds you into seeing him as a shelter that you aren’t strong enough to leave.

It’s a brutal process for Y/N, especially if they’re his student, because he intentionally picks a lonely and insecure person for the sake of rivaling MK.

And if you do somehow break free from the psychological and emotional strings he uses to puppeteer you about, Macaque simply switches to physically stringing you up with his shadows and forcing you to act out your deepest insecurities as he narrates them to an audience of shadow clones.

“Poor little Y/N… forever on their own, watching from the shadows while all the rest of the world laughs and loves with one another.”

The shadows around your body maneuver and mold you, forcing you to wave your hands and walk, dragging your lips into frowns and smiles. Every little shame and self-doubt you possess is bared to the light, bared to his shadows, and you can’t help but be strung along as a passive watcher in your very own story.

You break into tears halfway through, devolving into hysteric sobbing by the end.

And Macaque; no longer a shelter but instead a jail, offers you comfort to reel you back into his grasp. He’ll take you into his arms as you weep, promising to make you stronger, strong enough to forget the past and all that he’s forcing you to leave behind.

Now that you’re rendered to your most reduced state, he can start to work his magic.

“Trust me, kiddo… everything I’m doing, I’m doing for your own good. You get me?”

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere MK #MK #Yandere Sun Wukong #Sun Wukong #Yandere Macaque #Macaque #Monkiefam #Is Wukong’s part too pretentious in wording please tell me I crave feedback for the silly things I write

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gallusrostromegalus · 7 months

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So, I am begging you here, pls tell me that Ikkaku and Yumichika are still bffs on this AU. I need the violent miss- and yet perfectly matched bastards to still be forever ride-and-die with each other.

Also, all the dropped tidbits relating to Yumichika are gold and I am hoarding them like a squirrel hoards his nuts for winter.

They are actually, for real, legally married.

Ikkaku was 500% ready to fight the entire Gotei-13 when he took the 628-year old marriage certificate he and Yumichika had gotten in 72 North to the Seireitei Records Office to be honored.

Instead, the sole hiccup in the process was the young lady behind the counter asking him to spell Yumichika's surname for her as this document seems to have been... stained, at some point.

"-That's not... Blood, is it?" She asks, concerned.

"Uh. It's actually. Um. Soy Sauce." Ikkaku mumbles.

It would have been less embarrassing if it had been blood.

Turns out, Gay marriage- and indeed, divorce, or changing your name, or gender, or becoming the third, fourth or seventeenth parent/legal guardian to a kid is a nonissue in soul society, because someone complained *once* and Yamamoto declared that, one, he didn't care, and two, the rest of the military commanders were hired off death row, and *this* is what you're complaining about? Fuck off.

But here are some Yumichika Fun Facts:

Everyone in the 11th division has really, really good personal hygiene and well-cared for hands, feet and nails because Yumichika's mother was a doctor at a rural hospital and put the fear of dysentery, cholera, pneumonia, tetanus, sepsis, trench rot and necrosis into him even more than fear of the gods, and he very much continued this sanitary evangelism.

Yumichika's other mother was a drag queen at the brothel that adjoined the hospital and taught him all about hair, makeup, poisons, manners, alley fights, how to play the shamisen, how to make a knife out of anything, flower arrangement and how to curse the hell out of a motherfucker of it comes to that.

Kubo was wrong Yumichika looks out for all his sisters not just his cis-ters.

Kenpachi was friends with Yumichika before either of the ever knew Ikkaku. He met Yumichika shortly after adopting Yachiru when Yumichika saved him from drowning in the river that ran through his home village.

Kenpachi asked Yumichika what he could do in gratitude for saving his life, and Yumichika, seeing his sword, asked if Kenpachi could "give him a real fight, for once"

They had a jolly little scrap that left Yumichika in the hospital for three months, an almost insatiable lust for battle, and a permanent bald scar on the edge of his eyebrow, which is where he glues the decorative feathers he wears.

It also got him (lovingly) told to move out and make his way in the world.

Yumichika met Ikkaku some years after that, when the theater/brothel he was working at hired Ikkaku on as an Emcee and a comedy act in his own right.

Ikkaku loves making people laugh and is damn good at it.

Yumichika was already considering making a move on him when a heckler pulled a sword on Yumichika during his act and Ikkaku beat the shit out of him with a chair without a second thought, and Yumichika decided he was going to seduce and marry this bald little maniac then and there.

It still took the better part of six months, because Ikkaku was convinced that Yumichika was "Way out of his league" and "He's just being friendly to a coworker!".

Things finally became clear when, having reached a boiling point of sexual frustration, Yumichika challenged Ikkaku to a duel, beat the hell out of Ikkaku with Kujaku, and screamed his feelings directly into Ikkaku's face.

"Oh." Said Ikkaku. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I'VE BEEN SAYING THINGS AND SHOWING YOU THINGS AND SITTING IN YOUR LAP AND KISSING YOU FOR SIX MONTHS YOU FUCKING MORON."

"...I may be stupid."

"At least you're also cute. C'mere you sexy cueball."

-and they have been blissfully if dramatically wedded since.

It was many years after that that they had moved on to a different brothel as a duo floor show act, when they got to talking to some of the other working girls about their travels and Yumichika tells the story of how he got his eyebrow scar saving a real freak of a guy from drowning after he got stabbed by a river stingray, but then he challenged him to a fight because- well, he was young and cocky and a small fish, but in a tiny pond- and promptly got his ass beat.

"That's wild!" Says Ikkaku. "I also challenged a random freak with a stingray scar on his leg to a fight because I was bored and- all due respect to you and Kujaku, my beloved - but he gave me a thrashing the likes of which I'd never had before or since. He had his daughter with him was the weird part- he was a real big bastard, face like a cliff, but his girl was this adorable little pink thing."

Yumichika sits up, frowning. "-seven feet tall in socks, big vertical scar on the right side of his face?" He asked, gesturing to his own.

Ikkaku put his drink down and pointed at Yumichika "-and bells in his hair! You fought Zaraki Kenpachi too??"

"Yes! What the hell?" Yumichika laughed. "I wonder where he is now..."

"Oh Gods, he had the WORST sense of direction! He's probably managed to walk in and back out of the Soul King's palace on accident!" Ikkaku giggled

"Well, if he's the same seven foot tall sword bastard with the scarred face and pink little girl on his shoulder as the seven foot tall sword bastard with the scarred face and the pink little girl on his shoulder standing out in the street looking lost as hell, you can go ask him." Said their coworker Sachiko, pointing to the giant standing not a dozen feet away.

"Look Ken-chan! It's YuYu and Baldy!" Yachiru giggled.

"Yachiru!" Yumichika gasped, delighted.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT!" bellowed Ikkaku.

"YOU AGAIN!" Zaraki bellowed, ecstatic. " BEEN A FEW YEARS, LET'S SEE HOW MUCH YOU LEARNED!!"

Ten minutes of incredible violence, twelve minutes of evading the police and twenty-one minutes of getting lost on the way back to the brothel, a bloodied but still standing Yumichika was explaining to the Madame that the giant bastard carrying the unconscious half of her prized floor show duo behind him was, in fact, an old friend of theirs whom she should absolutely hire as a bouncer, you can see how effective he is!

Madame Tsubaki, who recognizes incredible spiritual power and fighting potential when she sees it, and who is still very petty about the divorce from her husband the Shinigami Captain-General, allows herself to be persuaded.

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfiction #yumichika ayasegawa #ikkaku madarame #kenpachi zaraki #yachiru kusajishi

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thewritetofreespeech · 11 months

Note

Hey there!! First things first, I love your writing so much 😭😭😭 I’m obsessed with your blog

I have a request for the seven brothers from obey me!

I was wondering how each of them would react to their s/o who got in some kind of trouble and comes home covered in blood, in shock, not being able to speak at first?

If you can write it I’d be really grateful 💖

Obey me Brothers + Bloodspattered MC

Lucifer

He had been waiting up for them when he finally heard the door open.

They were supposed to be home an hour ago. Lucifer appreciated that time could get away from a person, especially a human, but it was incredibly rude for them not to call or text that they were going to be late. So, he waited up for them. One to make sure they were ok, and two to give them a talking to.

Closing his book, he stood up from his large leather chair and stepped into the foyer. “I certainly hope your watch is broken. Otherwise, I have no idea why you would be so….” He trailed off as he came around the corner, saw [Y/N], and felt all the blood run from his face as he saw them covered in it.

“[Y/N]! What happened?!”

He rushed to their side. Trying to do a preliminary assessment as they muttered and stumbled over some words. Clearly still to jarred to speak.

Lucifer sighed as he couldn’t see any physical injuries on them. Thankfully, in a way, the blood wasn’t theirs. “There, there. Let’s get you cleaned up first then we’ll talk. I’ve told you. Going out into the Devildom alone was dangerous.”

He ushered them up the stairs and to the bathroom. He hated to say he told them so, but he did. Why did no one ever listen to him?

Mammon

Mammon was pissed. He hated being stood up. Not only did it leave him with feelings of inadequacy and neglect he was all too familiar with, but he wasted a perfectly good outfit.

[Y/N] was supposed to meet him at the Hellfire club for the launch of his new campaign for Belle Nuit Couture. One of the newest and hottest fashion lines in the Devildom, and he was the star. This was a party for him and he had invited [Y/N] as his date and they stood him up!

He couldn’t enjoy the party at all after that and, after several glasses of champagne and free tote bags, Mammon left to go home and give [Y/N] a piece of his mind.

The car dropped him off at the gate and he walked up. The front steps coming into view as he got closer, and seeing [Y/N] sitting on them.

“Hey! Ya got some nerve standing me up!” He called as he came closer. “I got you on the guest list for the most exclusive party in probably the world, and ya don’t even show up! Man. You’re really selfish if you think—” His rant stopped mid sentence as [Y/N] turned their head up to look at him. Face covered in blood. Along with the rest of them, he realized.

“I don’t have my key.”

Mammon dropped the gift bags and raced over to [Y/N]’s side. “What the hell happened!? Who did this to you?!”

“I don’t….I don’t….”

“Why didn’t you call me?!”

“They took my phone.”

“They?! Who’s they?!” He could feel his blood boiling. His shoulder blades tense and itching as his wings tried to come out, along with the rest of his demon form. Who would hurt his [Y/N]?! “I’m calling the car back.”

“Wh….Why….”

“To get you to a hospital!” Mammon shouted. Already on the phone and telling the car to turn around. “Here. Lean on me. No wait, I’ll carry you.”

“Your shirt….”

“Who cares about that?!” He was already picking [Y/N] up bridal style. The blood sticky and messy as it pressed against his expensive new BNC attire. No one else in the world had this line yet, and he’d already ruined it. But [Y/N] was more important.

Levi

Most people knew to leave Levi alone when he was on a new game grind.

He expected no less than 72 uninterrupted hours of gaming when the cellophane seal came off the packaging, followed by minimal interruptions for the next 7-10 business days.

It was why, when he first heard the knock, that he thought that he had imagined it. This was a horror game after all. Creepy noises were expected to come up now and then. But, he quickly realized, door knocks did not come up in forest sequences of a game, so he went to go check the door.

“Oh, hey [Y/N]. Wow! Is this a new cosplay for the game?! What dedication! I didn’t even know that there were characters like this in the game. You must have gone real otaku and checked the forums. Good for you! This blood looks so real too. What did you use? This doesn’t look like syrup or a synthetic mix or….”

Levi suddenly realized that the reason the blood looked so real was because it was real. His beautiful [Y/N]-hime-sama, was covered in blood, and just staring at him with these big, sunken doe eyes. He felt all of his blood drain from his face. His stomach felt sick. He had a very low threshold for non-animated blood, and he was starting to feel woozy.

“Oh…oh no…I must have triggered another real world game experience. That’s it.” He tried to rationalize. “Y-Yeah. That’s it. This is just like the otome game we got stuck in before. D-Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out. Let’s get you cleaned up first and then we’ll beat the game together [Y/N]. Just like always.”

Yes. Right. This was just a game. This was just a game. This wasn’t really real. It was all a game.

Satan

When reading a good book, Satan lost all track of time. Many a night he had been alerted to the time by the sun coming up, or his alarm for school, breaking through his intense focus, only to realize he had been up all night. He wasn’t sure what time it was when he heard the knock, but he was pretty sure it was late. It just felt that way.

Saving his place in his book, Satan got up from his bed to answer the door and was shocked to find [Y/N] there. Covered in blood.

“Good gods [Y/N]! What happened?!”

“It…It was….They….” They could barely speak, their hands shaking as well, and Satan wanted to feel sympathy for them. However, all he could feel was anger swelling up in his chest.

He heard the word ‘they’ and his mind quickly deduced that someone or something had done this to [Y/N]. A being out that had the suicidal gall to touch them. Hurt someone precious to him.

He could already feel the violent storm of his rage building within him, ready to smite any and all who played part in this. But then, just as quickly, he took a deep breath and tampered it down. [Y/N] and their safety was more important right now. Nothing else but that mattered right now.

“Come inside. I’ll get you some towels. We’ll get you cleaned up and we can talk about it. If you want.”

Hopefully [Y/N] had names, because he really didn’t want to go student to student hunting down whoever knew anything. Not that he wasn’t willing to.

Asmo

Asmo was pretty irritated.

[Y/N] was supposed to come home straight after the committee meeting and they were supposed to have a cute night in together. Movies, popcorn, facials, pedicures, maybe some light petting under the covers; though that last one was all Asmo’s idea. But they never showed up!

He got that sometimes these committee meetings for events could take a while. He had certainly been involved in a few due to his popularity and excellent party planning skills. But all night??

He had been so irritated that Asmo snuck into their room to wait for them. Sitting on their bed with his best ‘and just where have you been at this hour?’ look to let them know that he was annoyed they missed their date.

But, the hours ticked on, and eventually Asmo fell asleep on their bed. Drifting to sleep rather peacefully, until the door opened.

“[Y/N]….?” He said groggily. Rubbing his eyes as he sat up. “Where have you been?” Ok, maybe not as accusatory as he originally intended, but the spirit was there.

His eyes eventually adjusted from sleep and the dark to spot them. Back lit from the hallway, but with just enough light for him to see they were covered in blood. “[Y/N]! What happened?!”

Asmo quickly sprung from the bed and raced over to them. “Oh no! Your poor clothes! Your hair! Are you alright?!” They looked a mess, but intact. Not that their outfit could really be saved. “Come with me. We’ll get you cleaned up in my bathroom. No one will bother us there. I was so worried [Y/N] but I never dreamed….oh never mind. Here, take my hand. We’ll get you cleaned up and into bed before you know it.”

Beel

Beel was always happiest when he was in his room with Belphie.

It was quiet. Just them. And he could finally relax after a long day just in his room with his twin. He had missed Belphie a lot when he had been banished to the attic, but was very happy he was back.

Beel was sitting on his bed, eating snacks, and getting ready to hit the hay when he heard a knock at their door. Belphie was already asleep, so he went to go get it. Thinking one of his other, equally important brothers needed him for something.

He was shocked to find [Y/N] on the other side of the door. Their face pale, except for the blood all over it. “[Y/N]!”

He cried out their name in alarm and pulled them into the room and close to look at them. “What happened to you!? I just saw you an hour ago, how could you….” His mind was suddenly racing with ideas. None of them good. His mind was also racing towards memories of the past. Deep in the past. Of the last time he actually saw Lilith before she was lost to them forever.

‘No, no, no! Not again! This can’t be happening again! This isn’t happening again!’

“What’s going on…..”

Belphie

Belphie sat up in his bed, hearing the commotion.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes, asking what was happening. In this family it could be anything from a blown fuse to the world was ending, so no reason to get excited until it was necessary.

He fully opened his eyes and saw Beel standing there with [Y/N]. His brother, wide eyed with a terrified look, and [Y/N] just standing there was a dazed expression. The only color in their expression was the blood actually clinging to their body. “What the hell happened?!”

“I..I don’t know!” Beel answered. Terrified, and still holding on to [Y/N]’s shoulders. “They just showed up like this.”

“Well are they injured or hurt or something?” Belphie asked as he came over to look at them.

“I don’t know!” Beel just repeated. He sounded like on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Belphie could feel his own panic attack rising. Funny how, not long ago, he actually dreamed of doing something like this to [Y/N]. Now the thought of losing them made him sick and impossibly fearful. “We…We should go get Lucifer.”

He didn’t know what to do or what happened. And whenever he didn’t know anything his brain immediately thought ‘we should get Lucifer’. Though he pretended to hate him, and said mean, cruel things to the man, he still needed his big brother.

“H…He’ll know what to do. He always does. I…I’ll go get him. You stay here with [Y/N].”

Beel nodded, but Belphie didn’t see it as he took off with a speed not often seen from the youngest brother. He just had to get Lucifer. He would make everything alright. He always did. It would be alright.

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clovermunson · 1 year

Text

king hargrove — b. hargrove

summary: billy never saw himself as a dad, but he’d never trade his two little girls for anything— even when they ask him to dress up like a princess and have a tea party with them.

warnings: tooth-rooting fluff. like eating two bags of cotton candy and chasing it with a 72 oz. big gulp soda at the state fair. brief mentions of billy’s upbringing (not detailed). bee’s full name is beatrice but she’s called bee. oh and a mention of mechanic!billy. no use of “y/n”. first fic i’ve written and actually finished in…months? i think?? that’s about it really.

pairings: billy hargrove x fem/mom!reader

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: i told y’all motherfuckers i was gonna give billy something happy, and here it is!! it’s the most i’ve written in about two weeks and y’all can thank this lovely goon: @bookshelf-dust for that. anyway, as always likes and reblogs (especially reblogs) are greatly appreciated, i just ask that you DO NOT copy and repost my writing and claim it as your own!! — xo, morgan🖤

Billy Hargrove was many things. A bad influence, a womanizer, some might even say an antagonizer, of sorts. And while he’d agree to being all of those things before he met you, if someone would’ve told him that he’d become the father to a little girl in the spring of 1989, and then again in the summer of 1991, he would’ve told them they were crazy.

But now as he sat at the ridiculously small white dining table set, on the floor with his legs outstretched rather than in one of the dainty chairs that he was sure would crumble under his weight, he was certain that he wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

“Daddy, you gotta wear it.” Bee, your youngest daughter, had shoved a pink feather boa at him, making him jump back.

“Pleeeease? And this?” Juno, your eldest daughter had asked, holding a tiny plastic tiara out to him, “pretty please?”

“Okay okay.” Billy held his hands up, finally accepting defeat before letting Juno place the tiara on his head as he took the boa, wrapping the feathered accessory around his neck, then smiling for his girls.

Lord, if the guys at the mechanic shop knew about this, they’d never stop giving him hell over it.

“You look pretty.” Juno giggled at him as she pretended to pour two cups of tea.

“Pretty, huh?” Billy chuckled, “I don’t think the pink goes with my shirt.” He tugged at the material of his dark red shirt, showing how it contrasted.

“Oh well.” Bee shrugged, “gotta wear it.”

“Bossy.” Billy couldn’t help but laugh at the miniature version of himself, but if anyone asked where Bee got it from, he’d say it was from you.

“Get it from my daddy.” Bee didn’t miss a beat with her response, further showing just how much she was like her dad. All Billy could do was smile to himself, knowing that she was right.

Before he knew it, Juno had offered him an empty teacup, and he’d be damned if he turned it down. The floral patterned cup was abnormally tiny in his hand, but he still brought it up to his lips, pretending to take a drink.

“Pinky up.” Juno was quick to correct him, wiggling her tiny pinky at him.

At first, Billy looked confused. Why did he need to have his pinky up?

He felt Bee’s little hand grab at his, trying her hardest to raise his pinky.

“You’ve gotta put your pinky up, daddy.” She tried to pry his pinky from the tiny cup handle, giggling as Billy fought back with her.

“Daddy!” She whined, pouting at him. It didn’t take much for Bee to get her way. All she had to do was get those big ocean blue eyes a little misty, and she’d convince anyone to get her whatever she wanted— mostly her dad and her uncle Steve.

“Alright, alright.” Billy raised his pinky, waving it at Bee, “better?”

Bee simply nodded, appeased with her dad’s actions as she sipped her fake-tea.

You’d been carrying a basket full of laundry when you’d heard the giggling coming from the girls’ room. Instead of going on your way to the laundry room, you’d stopped just out of sight, leaning against the wall beside the doorway to listen in. Though you had to admit, seeing Billy in a tiara was quite the spectacle.

“You’re the king of the castle!” Juno exclaimed, quickly jumping up from the wooden chair to twirl around, her yellow polka-dot skirt twisting around her, the sleeves of her white blouse flowing from the small breeze she’d created.

“Is that so?” Billy watched as Bee joined in with her sister, both of them twirling around the table, skipping and jumping over their scattered toys.

“Mhm.” Bee agreed, “you’re the king. The king makes the rules.”

“I dunno about that, kiddo.” Billy snorted, “I would say I’m pretty influential around here though.”

“Infuwentual?” Bee stopped in her tracks, a bewildered look on her face. She struggled with the word, but Billy had quickly realized his mistake by using a big word.

“Influential.” He gently corrected her, “it means that daddy’s got a lot to do and say with what happens around here.”

Bee nodded, seemingly understanding the meaning of the new word. “So you make all the rules?”

“Not necessarily, babygirl.” Billy shook his head, smiling. “I do get to help make them though.”

“That doesn’t sound fun.” Bee crossed her arms, expressing that she didn’t agree with that decision— or whoever made it. Clearly an attitude she’d picked up from her father.

You smiled to yourself at that. Of course you and Billy made the rules together, and it was a very delicate balance of give and take between the two of you. But if your little girl could have it her way, she’d be running the world in no longer than two weeks’ time.

“But that’s how the world works, Bee.” Billy shrugged, “what can you do?”

Bee sat for a moment, seemingly contemplating her choices. Finally she spoke, and her little voice carried so much certainty with it, that even you were sure you’d let her have whatever she demanded. “Become the queen.”

“You wanna become the queen, is that right?” Billy couldn’t believe what he was hearing, feigning shock.

Bee nodded proudly, her plastic tiara nearly falling from her head.

“Well, you’ve gotta be a princess for now.” Billy had made it fairly obvious that he could match his daughter’s sass, “you do such a good job at that already.” He adjusted her tiara, making sure it was straight again.

“‘Course I do.” Bee sounded almost offended, “I am the princess.” She annunciated the word, only to add emphasis.

“Yeah, the mean princess.” Juno stuck her tongue out at her younger sister, knowing that Bee would retaliate.

“How rude!” Bee tossed one of the little building blocks at Juno, pouting.

“Meanie.” Juno threw a block back at her, which Billy had caught with astonishingly quick reflexes, making both of his daughters’ eyes widen.

“Girls.” Billy’s voice was firm, yet gentle with them, “that’s enough.”

“Sorry…” both girls mumbled, afraid to even look at each other.

“Neither of you are in trouble.” Billy felt the need to clarify, as he always felt like the bad guy when he had to scold them, “you just can’t call each other names and be mean to each other.”

The girls nodded in unison, showing that they understood the ground rules.

Since Billy had become a father, he’d become more gentle and less abrasive. He’d never once yelled at either of your girls, choosing to raise them with the kind of gentleness and unconditional love that you’d find in a family movie— the kind of home that Billy wasn’t lucky enough to have growing up.

He’d be damned if he didn’t give his little girls the best life they could possibly have though. Juno was the surprise baby, and sure money got tight at times, but he always worked extra shifts and overtime to make sure she had everything she needed and wanted. Then when Bee came along, Billy had been promoted to assistant manager, which came with a nice paycheck every week that was more than enough to support your little family.

Instead of continuing on to the laundry room, you decided instead to turn on your heel, heading back to the living room with a bright, almost dopey smile on your face from witnessing possibly the sweetest thing you’d ever seen. You set the basket of laundry down on the couch, making your way to the kitchen where you began to prepare dinner.

After about twenty minutes, Billy had gotten himself out of the princess tea party by claiming that he had ‘kingly duties’ to attend to, and while the girls were upset over it, they allowed him to leave.

“Mmm,” Billy hummed as he approached you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, then he inhaled the aroma of the kitchen, “whatcha making?”

“Spaghetti.” You responded with a giggle, “or as Bee calls it, ‘pasghetti’.”

“She’ll get it eventually.” Billy chuckled, “she’s got her mama’s brains for sure.”

“And your attitude.” You laughed, scrunching your nose, “what a killer combo.”

“Tell me about it.” Billy grinned, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of your neck.

“William.” You scolded him, giggling as you shimmied out of his grasp, “not here.”

Before Billy could even put some space between the two of you, Juno and Bee had come barreling down the stairs, stopping just at the threshold between the kitchen and living room.

“Can we have ice cream for dinner?” They both asked, their puppy dog eyes on full display.

You looked at Billy, a brow arched as you continued to stir the pasta noodles.

“Don’t look at me.” Billy held his hands up, shaking his head, giving you that million-dollar smile of his, “I didn’t tell them they could”.

“But you’re the king!” Bee shouted, the anticipation was clear in her voice.

“And if the king says we can have ice cream for dinner…” Juno trailed off, looking up at her dad.

“I may be the king, but mama’s the queen. What she says goes around here.” Billy leaned over to press a kiss to your temple, knowing that the girls wouldn’t even try to argue with you over it. “Even I can’t get her to change her mind.”

Juno sulked, padding over to her chair at the table, seemingly having accepted defeat.

Bee took a big whiff of the air, then smiled. “Mama, is that pasghetti?”

“It is spaghetti”. You gently corrected, knowing she still wouldn’t say it right anyway. “Go sit at the table with your sister and I’ll make you a plate.”

“Okay.” She chirped, nearly sprinting to the dining table, taking the seat right next to Juno.

Billy watched as the girls chatted amongst themselves, their senseless babbling making his chest swell with pride and an almost overwhelming sense of joy. Everything he never knew he needed was right in front of him, and he wouldn’t trade it for the anything. He leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he felt that warm sense of comfort wash over him that he’d been waiting years for.

Seeing the opportunity to tease your husband, you took it without so much as a second thought, though you kept your focus on making dinner.

“You may be the king, but you make a pretty princess too.”

Billy’s eyes darted over to you, and he smirked to himself. He knew that arguing was pointless, because the queen was always right.

#this shit killed me to write #cutest shit i’ve ever written #girl!dad!billy can have my life #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove fic #clovermunson’s fics #morgan’s writings

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sparkbeast20 · 5 months

Text

A bit of Lore about the 72 devils aka The nobles

I'm wondering, does it count to Lucifer? Cause he wasn't originally a devil.

Like, was it fate/destiny that Lucifer would have become the Sin of pride?

And does that mean that all the nobles tied to a certain king? or do the kings have to find them and claim as their nobles?

So many question, but I'm happy what we got!! I have more thoughts on some of the lore dump in the event.

Also. This whole "You are born to server/bound to a certain person" trope. Is one of my favorite.

There are so many ways to take it, and I love this when it's not romantic, just either mutual/platonic dynamic or loyal as hell.

#what in “hell” is bad?#what in hell is bad #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#whb beelzebub #whb amon #whb thoughts #whb spoilers

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fushipurro · 2 months

Text

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Chapter 2 - Synched Spirits

<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter (wip) ->

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, cowboy!au, fluff smut & a bit of angst in between, guns, mentions of blood, pet names, creampie, anal, threesome (f/m/m), gangs

☆ Word Count: 5.4k

“So, you must be Clementine then, huh?”

The palomino huffs back, examining you with big brown eyes. Her ears flicker with interest, no doubt curious to the strange new human holding taking her by the lead to the other end of town. You can’t blame her for being wary, you’d feel the same if your beloved companion left you for another so you can only imagine how she and your Valentine are feeling right now.

She’s not the only one cautious of you. It’s hard not to miss the many townsfolk eyeing you down, what with how last night went. Between the robbery and your duel, everyone’s on high alert for the foreseeable future.

One would like to believe they’d be more grateful you didn’t outright kill the guy. Maybe they wouldn’t care so much if you were a man instead of a natural born, gunslingin’ woman, but sucks to suck. That drunken fool is lucky you decided to be nice and let him off with just a mangled hand. Had it happened after Valentine was stolen, the results would have been much different.

You hitch Clementine up outside the gun store, pushing past the door and greeting the shopkeeper. They’re about the only person so far today not afraid of you, but in all fairness, he’s the one with a dozen guns an arm’s length away.

“Lookin’ for anything in particular, Ma’am?”

You hum in response, scanning the available goods displayed out across the various shelves. There’s plenty of ammunition for a good price; wouldn’t hurt to replenish your pistol stocks after that duel. You decide on a few, bringing them over to the checkout counter.

“I’ll take these and…” Glancing up behind the clerk, there’s several cabinets containing an assortment of larger weaponry. A little voice creeps up from the back of your head offering a wonderful idea. “…maybe a rifle, depending on what ya have.”

He turns his back to you, unlocking one of the many units. Across the empty counter in front of you, he places down a few options, naming them as he goes, “Rolling Block, Varmint, Springfield, Bolt Action…take your pick.”

You’re instantly drawn to the Rolling Block, a girthy beauty that screams power and fine craftsmanship. “How’s the firepower on this one?” you ask, lifting the weapon up to better examine.

“You won’t find much competition with that one,” he tells you, and that’s exactly what you like to hear.

If someone dares to so much as think they can get away with stealing your horse, then you’re sure as hell going to track them down and put a gaping hole right where their heart should be. That black-haired outlaw better watch his back if he knows what’s coming. Once all is said and done with, Calamity Jane will be needing a new nickname after you usurp that throne.

“How much?”

“$187 even, Ma’am.”

Tch, that’s steep. And more than you have on hand thanks to the rest being buried in Valentine’s satchel.

You sigh, begrudgingly looking over the rest of the artillery. “How about the rest?”

“The Varmint here is our cheapest at $72 if you’re goal is hunting rabbits and other small game; otherwise the Springfield is our next cheapest at $120.”

You replace the Rolling Block in your hands with the Springfield Rifle, trying it out just like you did with the former. It’s lighter in weight with less range on the scope, but the clerk assures you that with some express or high velocity bullets, distance won’t be an issue.

“I’ll take this then.” You pass a billfold to the clerk, seething once again over why you’re doing this to begin with. Money’s hard to come by in this day and age, as far as legal opportunities go for someone like you. So help that bastard if he finds the rest of your stash and decides to take that for himself.

Leaving the store with your new weapon in hand, you’re quick to notice a gathering of lawmen outside the Sheriff’s office just across the street. A dozen uniforms with an equal number of horses all geared and ready to go.

“Who’s the Sheriff around here?” you call out, approaching the group.

“That would be me, Miss.” The crowd parts, making room for a young, white-haired man. “Sheriff Satoru Gojo. How may I be of service to you on this lovely day?”

You scoff, This guy? He’s clean as a whistle. Even the star on his chest could be mistaken for a mirror with how much he’s shined it.

Any other time and his equally bright smile might feel akin to fresh rain in the New Austin desert, but currently, it’s more like greeting the sun after a wicked night in the saloon.

“I’d like to know what’s being done about those thieves from last night.”

His blue eyes wander your figure up and down. Curious, but invasive. “You’re not with the bank, are you?”

Does it look like I’m wearing a suit or a fancy dress?

“My horse was stolen by one of those bastards and I intend on getting her back. Today,” you hiss impatiently.

Giving attitude to a man of the law may not be the smartest decision lest you desire a night behind bars, but to be fair, you have every right to be pissed given the circumstances. Had they have been competent in their line of work, then the criminals wouldn’t have gotten as far as they had or even been able to leave town in the first place.

It’s infuriating.

And the nonchalant nature of this man only pisses you off further.

“You’re in luck then, Miss…?”

You reply to the man with your name, sternness evident in your tone.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he remarks, earning a glare of disapproval from you that he shrugs off with a laugh. “My deputies and I are heading out on a lead if you want to sit tight inside.”

You place a hand over your hip, all nice and sassy with your face anything but. “I’d rather come with y’all than sit on my ass.”

Satoru takes the lead of a pristinely clean cremello stallion, its fur almost as perfectly white as the hair on its rider’s head. “I won’t stop you, but…” He pauses, hoisting himself up and over the saddle effortlessly, showing off those long legs of his. “…it could be dangerous.”

You pat the gun holster attached to your hip, just another way of showing that you’re anything but the normalcy ‘round here. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

The rim of his darkly colored cattleman hat dims his facial expression as he hunches down over the horn of the saddle, but not the light coming from that toothy grin stretching ear to ear.

“I don’t doubt that for a second, I’m aware of the duel that occurred last night.”

“Good, so then you know I mean business,” you warn, not once wavering from the eye contact with Satoru.

He outstretches his hand, beckoning for you to accept. “Of course. You want to ride up here with me then so we can get going?”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you respond, pointing your thumb behind you at Clementine. “This girl will do just fine.”

“Didn’t steal her, I hope?” he teases in an effort to lighten the situation. It doesn’t necessarily work as you roll your eyes the moment your back turns on him. From there, you and the rest of the deputies mount up to leave town, destination unknown.

You hunker back from the rest of the posse, allowing the mare to instinctively follow while you take in the surrounding sights. You had come to this town from a different path than the one you’re marching on now, but given the view, you’ll for sure find yourself adventuring out here again in the future. The settlers here picked a beautiful spot to build the city of Valentine on. In the distance lie snow-kissed peaks and plateaus in nearly every direction, a wide-open prairie, and now the freshwater stream trailing at your side.

The stream runs clear as crystal, giving you an easy view of all the trout and pike that call it home. Measly shadows darting around in search of food and the ducks swimming along the surface. Sunlight catches on all the ripples, reflecting a dazzling lightshow of effects.

“So… what brings you to our fair city?”

You turn to your opposite side where Satoru and his majestic stallion ─ Mugen as you’ve come to discover its name to be ─ are nestled up at your side, stirrups annoyingly clashing with utter disregard for personal space.

“Do I need a reason or permission to come?”

“Well, no,” he pouts, “but as Sheriff I like to know who all is coming and going.” He further invades your bubble by leaning over in front of your line of sight, leather scrunching with every motion. “Besides, you’re an interesting change to the usual visitors. How could I not be curious?” he adds pointedly.

You sigh, giving in to his questioning. He doesn’t seem like a bad guy after all, compared to the horse thief you’re eagerly waiting to meet later. Satoru’s merely caught you on a bad day is all.

“I’m just a traveler like any other,” you drawl, a seldom undertone in your voice. “I used to call Tall Trees home, but that’s long in my past.”

“Bear country, huh?” He whistles out of surprise. “No wonder you’ve got the balls of one.”

“You could say that.” An amused huff leaves you. “Hunting bears is what ensured our survival up around Aurora Basin,” you explain, looking off in the direction of the mountains you at one point called home. “Had to watch our asses at all times to avoid Brumas or Lobo’s pack always hanging around our house.”

“Brumas?”

“Yeah, she’s a local legend in those parts. ‘A giant clad in golden fur.’” You exaggerate with your hands the sheer size of the bear. “Many doubt her existence, but my dad and I saw her firsthand one winter while hunting elk. Barely made it out intact but we made sure to leave her with a memorable scar on her face.” The memory of that day pulls the edges of your lips upwards.

“It's kill or be killed,” the words of your father sound in your head. “Either you stand your ground and fight back, or you won’t survive in this world.”

As they say, there’s always a method to the madness. Grizzly hunting as a kid is what geared you up to take no shit from others today. Especially for a lone woman carving her way through the frontier, you need to have the balls of a bear as the man next to you so sweetly described.

“Yikes,” Satoru grimaces at the fierce display of your nature stretching across your face. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Help me get my horse back today in one piece and you won’t have to worry.” You wink.

“By my honor as Sheriff of Valentine, I will get your steed back.” He pulls a semi-auto pistol from his belt, twirling it around his finger like you’d find in those animated photographs big cities always show off. The cocky cowboy, slick as could be with the metallic extension of themselves. “I’m the strongest, after all.” He winks back.

You have to hand it to him; he knows how to make an insufferable day a little less so; like a chaser you’d have following some throat-burning liquor. All it took was just some conversation and fond thoughts to get you back in the right mindset.

A pungent smell wafts your way sooner down the path, the luscious greens of the shrubbery abruptly turn to charred remains covering the expanse of land before you. A thin boundary of life and death.

“Forest fire?” you question rhetorically at first, but Satoru offers an answer.

“Kinda, we’re approaching what used to be a town by the name of Limpany.” He pauses, exhaling a discontent sigh. “Burned to the ground last year along with the rest of what you see.”

Kinda?

“Do you know how it started?”

There’s another brief pause, enough to shift the atmosphere in an awkward direction. You aim your head at Satoru, finding his downcast expression and a bittersweet smile. He brushes his fingers through Mugen’s mane, finding comfort with his trusted familiar.

“Since you told me your story, I’ll tell you some of mine,” he begins, taking in a focused breath. “My best friend and I were once deputies together, our sights set on becoming the sheriffs of a town no one would dare mess with thanks to our presence.” A flicker of remorse passes through the depths of his blue orbs. “We had a job that went sideways, and it wasn’t the same for us after.”

“How so?”

“I went on to become sheriff like we originally planned, but Suguru started to pull back and decided on going home to Limpany for a while.”

A pit in your stomach forms, giving you a sinking suspicion as to where this story could go. Considering his mood, the destination ahead, and the reveal of someone important to his life, there appears to be more to this as a whole than just a bank robbery. Nevertheless, you allow him to speak freely.

“Suguru discovered some serious corruption going on in the town by its people. In response, he ended up decimating nearly the entire town in one night, sparing no one. From that day forward, he became a wanted criminal in the eyes of the law.”

You wonder what could have been so severe to require that much lethal force, but at the same time if you were in his shoes, you might make the same choices. It wouldn’t be that far off on things you’d do considering how you decided to get back at the men who stole the lives of your parents.

Now here you are sympathizing with the man you’re hunting for your own personal vendetta. Oh how the tables have turned once you see the other side.

“I take it this Suguru is your gold thief?”

He sighs, “Unfortunately, that looks to be the case.” As you already expected to hear.

The town comes into sight, and with that, an end to your conversation. You’re surprised to see that despite the raging inferno that had occurred, buildings remain standing all along the settlement. Crumbling and disregarded, but still feasibly sturdy.

Smoke still hovers in the air as nature has yet to blossom and overtake the land once more. Maybe once spring has truly set in, new life will occur in its wake. So far, It’s quiet, but that may not necessarily be a good sign. Satoru orders his men to disperse throughout the town, going door to door in search of any signs of the gang.

The two of you hitch your horses out front of what used to be the Limpany Sheriff’s Department. The lettering on the building has long since faded from the flames but remains legible to a degree. Next door however is a jailhouse that stands without issue, and scarce of any blemishes. While Satoru is occupied with the main building, you decide to check out what lies beyond the iron door. There’s a click as you pull the safety of the gun, cautiously opening the door and ready for whatever lies inside.

Come to find out, it’s empty. The eeriness of the room sets off a trail of goosebumps down your spine. There’s smoke damage on the walls inside, but elsewhere nothing is damaged as far as you can tell. One of the locked cells houses two adult skeletons shackled to the wall. The bones of their wrists still nestled between the cuffs. The cell across somehow felt more ominous. The door is opened, leading to an empty room which in itself isn’t a cause for concern, but the scattered loot tells a different story. You bend down to pick up once such piece.

Is this… a child’s shoe?

Your eyes widen.

No doubt that one, but multiple children were being held in this very cell for reasons unknown. Is this what Suguru had come home to find…?

“Surprised? I know I was when I first saw this.”

His voice startles you, causing your sudden turn to meet him. “Satoru, what is this?”

“Corruption,” he answers bluntly.

What a cruel world this can be to live in. And with that thought, you can’t blame Suguru for crossing that threshold of sin.

A commotion sparks up outside, drawing both of you to the door. “Sheriff, come quick!” One of the deputies calls out. You get up to follow Satoru out as the two of you are led to another section of town where lawmen have quickly begun to circle. “It looks like they camped here and left this morning! There’s fresh hoofprints everywhere too.”

“Mount up!” Satoru shouts confidently, “They couldn’t have gotten far, let’s not waste any more daylight here!”

You’re about to whistle for your horse off muscle memory when you immediately have to remind yourself that she wouldn’t be able to hear your call.

They don’t prepare you for these things.

Valentine is all you have left right now. Losing her is like losing family. As much as you find yourself resonating with Suguru, the fact remains that you’re heartbroken without her. Hopefully she’s safe and the two of you will be reunited again soon. You brush the thoughts, running off with Satoru before galloping off with the rest of the posse.

The roads outside Limpany aren’t the most well-travelled, so for any decent enough tracker, the thousand-pound impressions in the dirt are easy enough to spot. There’s evidence a wagon or two may have joined the group, all leading down the Dakota river towards the Upper Montana. Trees quickly become scarcer as you enter this new area thanks to logging companies, making it easier to see everything in front of you but at the same time, everyone can see you as well.

The group stops short of a tree line near the river to use as cover. Up ahead lies a small home and barn to match looking all too lively and full for its size. A fatal flaw in their attempt at laying low, but one you’re thankful for. Pulling out a pair of binoculars from your satchel, you investigate the scene. There’s a long, gray-haired man and another shorter bald guy walking around, weaponry in hand, and several more interesting characters around. Among the dozen horses grazing from their posts, none are Valentine.

“Are those the men we’re looking for?”

“Looks like it,” the white-haired man sighs, tightening the grip on his own pair of binoculars. “I see some other wanted faces the Outlaw Killer was looking into.”

“The Outlaw Killer?” you scoff, quirking a brow. Interesting title that speaks for itself.

“Yeah,” he snickers. “He’s a crazy bounty hunter. You’d know him if you saw him, I’m sure. Grouchy asshole that only ever wears black ─ hell, I think all his guns and even his lasso are the same color.” He rolls his eyes and an image of the blacked-out stallion and its flirt of an owner came to mind from the night before. So much for a bad temperament.

“Good to know,” you hum, raising your new rifle from its holster, taking aim at the gray-haired man first on instinct.

“Woah woah woah, what are you doing?” Satoru’s urgent voice fills your ear.

“What’s it look like?” you calmly reply, “I’m gonna pick them off one by one.” The safety clicks just as the man reaches out with a hand on the barrel to low the gun.

“I’m itching to get this done with as much as you are, but I’d like to arrest them, not kill.”

You click your tongue out of annoyance, “What’s your plan then, Sheriff?”

“Let’s just get a little closer and see what more we can learn first. It won’t do us any good if they’ve stashed the gold, and I doubt they’ll tell us anyways.”

He has a point, sadly. For now, you’ll just have to go along with it. You lean on the reins with a tap of your heel to guide Clementine. “Have it your way, but just remember that I’m not the one wearing a silver star.”

“Hey if this goes well, I’m more than happy to give you one.” He smiles, following your lead with the rest of his men. Once again, he’s got Mugen right up at your side, hunched over the saddle to see your face. “You’re just the kind of attitude we could use; that and I’m enjoying your company.” You roll your eyes but the faint smile tugging at your lips gives you away all too easily.

Being a deputy isn’t something you’ve had in mind before given your sense of exploration and all, but another way one could view it is imagining it as a means of settling down somewhere. An ever-growing supply of work paired with using your favorite set of skills to earn money; all and all giving you stability and a place to call home if you ever decide that’s what you want in life.

It's worth thinking about if he’s serious. A second option to consider on top of Kento’s.

To avoid spooking the gang, you and the rest of the posse tie the reins of your mounts to some trees a few yards back from the tree line closer to the homestead. From there, it’s all about maintaining a stealthy approach. Plenty of shrubbery dots the property, so even with the lack of tall standing trees, you’re able to keep as low a profile as you can without inciting a shootout. The rest of the men can have their fun with their hunt for gold or apprehending dangerous individuals. Your first and foremost objective is securing Valentine.

Since she’s not outside, one can only assume she’s in the barn out of sight. It’s a good size, but in desperate need of some TLC as you learn the moment some rotted wood snaps cleanly off with a simple tug. You crawl through from the back, entering the structure into a bed of hay. Looking up from the ground, you quickly find that it’s not just you stuck in a 12x12 box.

A familiar tobiano paint stands proudly, turning his head in your direction. Beautiful black and white markings cover the gelding with a splash of white on one side of its face revealing a sole blue eye. The other eye is a rich shade of brown, surrounded by black fur.

“Good boy,” you whisper to the horse, hoping to not frighten him or anyone else that may be inside to your presence. He eyes you back with a huff and some widened eyes, but thankfully their ears move in attentive patterns rather than that of aggression.

You measle around to the front of the stall, managing to swoon him with your pets between soft whispering coos. “I should steal you and show him how it feels. You want that, big guy?”

A high-pitched whinny pierces the air, drawing your eyes to your long-lost Valentine one stall over. She stomps her foot aggressively, but her warning comes all too slow before the stall door flings open. Before you can reprimand yourself for being snuck up on, let alone draw your gun, the opposing force already has their own aimed nearly point blank.

“My, I didn’t expect anyone to check here first, let alone wish to steal Uzumaki from me?”

You turn slowly towards the man you’ve been wanting to see all night and day. The same silky-haired bastard that made off with your mare. He stares you down the iron sight of a Cattleman’s revolver, holding a salacious grin as he takes amusement in this whole ordeal.

“I think it’s only fair, seeing as you stole my own horse after your little escapade in town last night.” Unlike his suave tones, your voice is laced with the venom of a diamondback rattlesnake. Just because he has you cornered, doesn’t mean you’re any less dangerous than a pit viper itching to strike.

The sound of gunfire alerts you both to the events unfolding outside the shabby walls of the stable, all with the shouting of a dozen men. The sliding door to the entrance of the barn opens with a bang, and the outlaw is quick to draw up a second revolver at the new arrival.

“Suguru, put your guns down.” Satoru says, trying to mask the hints of pain and grief beneath a stoic demeanor.

On the other end, Suguru is cheerful and keeps his sight set on the other with a cheshire smile. “Satoru~ long time no see.”

You clear your throat, reminding the two of your third wheeling presence. “Nice reunion and all, but you’re outnumbered here.”

“That may be.” he pauses, rolling his head in your direction once more. “But I’m holding the guns here so it’s up to you both to decide how you want to walk out of here.”

Funny how things ended up working out after that.

Between some more bickering, monologues, thundering hooves, and dwindling gunfire, who knew a simple suggestion to “kiss and make up” would lead to you being sandwiched between them in one of the empty available stalls occupying square bales of hay to use as surfacing.

Straw digs into your back annoyingly, but the pleasure of two cocks in either end transition you to a state of euphoria. Muffled whimpers fail to escape, instead warping around Satoru buried deep in your throat. It’s long, veiny, and curves in all the right directions. His hands find comfort over the mound of your breasts, kneading into the flesh with each thrust.

You can’t see it, but those breathtaking blue eyes look in awe of your figure adorned with a sheen of sweat and the sight of Suguru’s cock disappearing into your perfect little pussy. “So pretty,” he purrs, noting how you’re glowing brighter than any star could hope to achieve, silver or not.

Suguru’s hands brand the dipping of your hips with a bruising grip, rutting into you with his especially girthy extension. Each jerk of his body hits right into a sweet spot bringing you ever closer to undoing the knot at the base of your core.

They both momentarily pause as you begin to unravel, choking out cries that leave Satoru reeling with pleasure from the tightness of your throat. Suguru feels it too. Your gummy walls encasing around him in erratic motions. The two of them aren’t far away from their own release.

The sounds each make only serve to keep the wings of your pussy fluttering for more. Irresistibly charming, and all the more passionate given the shared history they share, and you now caught in the middle.

Suguru leans forward over you, cupping Satoru’s cheek to draw him closer, crashing their lips together in a messy embrace. That one action forces each to come undone, painting both ends of you so perfectly white. They pull out, savoring the whining noise you release from the loss. The black-haired man takes a moment to admire how you clench around nothing and the cum gushing out like a waterfall of love.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Suguru asks, and both Satoru and you simultaneously answer positively making him chuckle all low and honey-like.

“You’re doing so well, but we’re not done just yet…” Both men exchange a look, as if reading one another’s mind. Soulmatism at its finest. “Well, Satoru?”

“It’s been too long, Suguru,” he responds gleefully. Satoru then proceeds to lift your tiring body up and onto his lap, making you straddle him as the other comes around into your view. “Ready for more, princess?”

“Less talk, more stuffing,” you scoff, taking it upon yourself to line his tip with your eager cunt, graciously accepting him into the depths beyond what Suguru could reach.

“You heard the pretty lady, Satoru,” the other whispers into his ear, nibbling the lobe as he slowly thrusts up into the man. The slick coating his shaft that you provided just moments ago make for a smooth entry, earning a deep fulfilling rumble from Satoru.

His fingers slid up your thighs and over the curves of your body, pressing into the plush to bounce you on him. You saw plenty before of the cobweb of veins that marble his cock, but feeling the ridges trailing along your insides leaves you breathing out such sinful sounds. He works it like the most formal of fountain pens, writing poetry on velvet walls that could put even Shakespeare to shame.

“Fuuh-uck,” you murmur, burying your face in the crook of Satoru’s neck, shamelessly letting him contort your body however he desires. Your arms wrap tightly around his neck and hair, locking him in against your bare chest.

“Now now, don’t go hiding yourself,” Suguru says between disheveled breaths, trying not to let his pace falter as he urges your face up. He overtakes your lips, mixing sloppy kisses with nips across your bottom lip.

Satoru uses this chance to pepper your open neck with marks fashioned all in his name, biting down with more force each time his lover hits that sweet spot inside. He can feel not only his own chest tighten, but his balls as well.

Suguru breaks the kiss, but only to push the two in front of him down. The weight of Satoru comes down over you, taking your mouth against his and soaking up the taste of all the combined flavors. Suguru unleashes powerful thrusts into Satoru that force him in and out of your own body as he chases his high.

“You missed me this much, Suguru?” He gazes over his shoulder, smiling as he tries to form cock-drunk words. “S-so much more aggressive than usual, f-feels good.”

“Not a day goes by where I don’t see a reminder of you.” You can just barely make out the seldom, yet saccharine face Suguru makes, your own vision clouded with a hazy white. “It’s just like the old days with o-our new friend here.”

“Our princess here is taking us so well, isn’t she?”

“She is,” he says, and you feel feather-light touches come over your thighs that attempt to coil around Satoru for closeness. “You’re such a good girl, I bet you want to cum, don’t you?” You feverishly nod, unsure how much longer you can hold out.

“Come on, baby.” A finger moves over your clit drawing star-shaped patterns until that’s all you’re able to see. “T-that’s it,” he drawls, following soon after.

Hot ropes of cum spill out inside you once more, making a beautiful cocktail of three. Suguru mercilessly ruts into Satoru until he himself finishes, savoring the feeling he’s long since missed and relishing in the new ones you’ve brought him.

Satoru’s body relaxes leaving you trapped underneath. You take the time to brush your fingers through his hair as you come down off your high, feeling yourself ground to the Earth in the process.

Suguru pulls out, leaving a chaste kiss to you both. His delicate fingers push the hair of your face, admiring the beauty of your afterglow. You close your eyes, soaking up the feeling of one another, completely oblivious to anything else.

Well, almost oblivious.

“It’s been fun seeing you again and meeting such a lovely new woman,” Suguru starts. You open your eyes and Satoru as well to see Suguru dressed and mounted atop the tobiano. “I’ve got to get home before my daughters begin to worry. See you around sometime.” He winks, galloping out of the stable before either of you can say another word.

Satoru stands up, exhaling a defeated sigh. The plan to arrest Suguru ended up with the two of you being detained by love. Both his gang and the gold are long gone to wherever his hideout lies.

Satoru helps you up, cleaning you off as best he can before readying the horses, and yes, that means yours too.

Valentine is home, back with her family.

You.

As you sit atop her on route back to the city of Valentine, you feel a discomfort in your clothes and the crunching of parchment to follow. The source of which is a pamphlet courtesy of Suguru, detailing drawings and hints on how if you’re interested, you can use these clues to find him and his camp of outlaws.

And so, a third opportunity for your future presents itself, but that’s for the future. For now, the only thing on your mind is a steak dinner. Here’s hoping the Butcher has finished his job.

☆ Notes: KFC breakup – saloon edition

Fr this chapter was hard for me to write. I love satosugu but I’m not confident in writing them just yet :( I cursed myself so many times and had to close to document. march weather also has got me not feeling too well so that sucks.

I was kinda stumped how to transition from gunpoint to dickpoint in a way that wasn’t so dubious or noncon so I hope you don’t mind me just skipping straight to the action :3 threesome smut is hard to write for me

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #cowboy!au #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto x you #geto suguru x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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