#At what point it is considered your own responsibility to avoid the content | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

many-shades-of-violence · 8 months

Text

dear doctor

✢ content: NSFW, Medical Kink, Doctor-Patient Roleplay, Dom-Sub Dynamics, Glove Kink, improper use of Devil Fruit, Electrostimulation

✢ pairing: Trafalgar D. Law x f! Reader

✢ characters: Law, Bepo, Shachi, Penguin, Ikkaku, Uni

✢ word count: 7.500

Life on the Polar Tang was delightful to say the least.

With a wonderful crew, a comfortable bed, delicious food, your very own Polar Bear on board, and last but not least, the company of your lover and partner, Trafalgar D. Law, you shouldn't have had much reason to complain. Well, perhaps, except for the fact that you were being pursued by the World Government due to your listed bounty. But apart from that, life was pretty good, especially when compared to the time before you joined the Heart Pirates. And slowly, but surely, you had even found yourself falling in love with none other than your own captain.

At the start of your relationship, Law had warned you that he was preoccupied with his duties, studies, and crew. He made it clear that these responsibilities were just as important as you, and that he would strive to care for them equally. Of course, you understood what you were getting into with a warning like that. Law's focused and determined demeanor was one of the many things that had captivated you, after all. And despite his initial warning, whenever he had to cancel your plans for sudden matters at hand, he always made it up to you in some way.

However, despite all of this, you currently found yourself pondering the state of your relationship. Law was avoiding your touch as if it were made of seastone, and this had been going on for a rough week. It wasn't unusual for you two to go without intimacy over some periods of time, but Law wouldn't even share a proper kiss or allow himself to be held while sleeping, and you knew how important latter was to him, considering the numerous nightmares he had to endure.

At first, you had tried to suppress your hurt over his distant demeanor. However, after enduring a dragging week, you finally reached your breaking point in front of Ikkaku. The poor girl had jokingly inquired about life in paradise, likely intending to check up on you, as you had formed a tight bond with the female crew member, but before you knew it, tears had welled up at the corners of your eyes, streaming down your cheeks within seconds.

Fortunately, Ikkaku responded with genuine sisterly concern, guiding you to a quieter section of the sub-marine where you could be alone. With a gentle hand stroking your back, she hushed you softly as you poured out your frustration from the past few days through tears.

"Shh, it's okay, y/n," Ikkaku whispered, offering you a heartfelt smile in an attempt to console you.

Tears still welling in your eyes, you looked up at her and spoke with a trembling voice, "I just don't know anymore, ´Kaku. He doesn't even talk to me. It's not like we even fought or anything."

Ikkaku raised an eyebrow at your words and let out a sigh of defeat. "Ugh, as much as I respect him, Captain can be so cryptic sometimes," she admitted, rubbing her neck uncomfortably. She then continued, "You sure there's no way you unintentionally upset him?"

Shaking your head, you looked down at the ground, attempting to control the flow of your emotions. Ikkaku seemed to understand your struggle and promptly produced a handkerchief, offering it to you. "Here, you poor thing. Take this."

"Thanks," you mumbled, using the handkerchief to dry your tears and blow your nose, working to steady your breathing. Meanwhile, Ikkaku appeared to be considering various possibilities for your captain's odd behavior. "Maybe we should approach this from a different angle. When did all of this start? Any idea? Take your time if you need."

You nodded in agreement with Ikkaku's suggestion, taking a moment to reflect on the past days and the onset of Law's sudden change in behavior. As you thought back, you shuddered as memories surfaced—countless instances when you had attempted to connect with your raven-haired lover. Each time, he had either brushed you off with something else on his busy mind or directly stated that he wasn't interested in your advances. The sting of hot tears threatened your eyes once more, your lower lip quivering in the face of this defeat, when suddenly, a vivid scene flashed through your mind.

You were immersed in a book as the door to your shared room swung open, announcing the return of none other than your boyfriend. Your gaze lifted from the page you were reading, attempting to remember where you had left off. A smile crept onto your face as you beheld Law's appearance – his dark, tousled hair still damp and droplets of water adorning his skin. He was dressed only in his blue jeans with black spots, the fabric fitting snugly low on his hips. A white cotton towel draped lazily over his right shoulder, partially concealing a fraction of the numerous black tattoos that adorned his tanned, well-defined torso.

A sensation of arousal began to stir within you as he entered the room. The weighty iron door closed behind Law automatically as he ran his fingers through his short hair, his inked fingers deftly arranging the strands. His sharp, yellow eyes met yours, a knowing smirk gracing his weary features. "Like what you see?" he purred, his voice deep and textured.

With an eager nod, you agreed, though you couldn't help but feel a touch embarrassed at being caught gazing at him so intently. "Don´t have to ask twice," you responded. Law casually tossed the towel aside, then crawled onto the bed you both shared. He briefly glanced at the book in your hands before placing it face down, ensuring you could resume reading it later. He sealed this act with a kiss on your temple, his skilled hands tracing the contours of your body.

"Wanna get a feel?" Law's voice rumbled, planting another kiss near your neck and sending a shiver down your spine as he exhaled warm air against your skin. You couldn't help but emit a soft, pleased sound at the feeling of his goatee brushing against you, relishing the delicate scratchiness it provided. Gradually, you shifted your position, now sandwiched between Law's body and the bed. Your gaze met his as you lightly traced one of the many inked lines on his chest. Your voice adopted a sultry tone as you parted your lips, ready to playfully tease your lover. "Right at your disposal, doctor."

For a brief moment, Law didn't react at all. His gaze seemed fixed on what you could only assume was nothingness. Then, with a sudden movement, he excused himself, pressing his hand to his forehead and muttering about being much more tired from the surgery than he had anticipated. He sought refuge under the thick blanket of the bed. While his reaction was a bit surprising, you didn't dwell on it too much. Sudden waves of exhaustion were nothing out of the ordinary when it came to your hardworking boyfriend.

However, as you replayed the scene in your mind, dissecting it frame by frame, a realization struck you like a bolt of lightning. This had to be the exact moment when Law's odd behavior had begun, starting with his turning away from you in a manner that made it impossible for you to snuggle up to him, as was your usual sleeping arrangement.

A surge of understanding flooded over you, and you swiftly turned your head towards Ikkaku, who was now vigorously gesturing in your direction. Yet, her frantic movements weren't directed at you. You turned your head, recognizing a familiar figure – a slender man wearing a Penguin hat.

"Get lost, Penguin!" Ikkaku exclaimed to him, her tone assertive. The young man scratched his cheek sheepishly, clearly caught off guard. "S-Sorry, I heard some sobs, so we—"

Ikkaku cut him off abruptly, her tone curt, "Don't you worry your pretty little head about this. y/n's dealing with some grown-up issues, and it looks like we need some grown-up solutions." She gestured for him to leave immediately, but her eyes widened as if another thought struck her. "Wait, did you say 'we'?"

Penguin nodded, his embarrassment evident. Just then, another familiar face appeared around the corner – none other than the other half of the renowned Heart Pirate duo, Shachi. He greeted you casually, "Sup!" It seemed as if Ikkaku was on the verge of giving up on the whole situation. She brought a hand to her forehead and let out a loud sigh, muttering to herself, "May the gods save me from whatever idiocy is going to come out of this."

In that moment, Penguin knelt in front of you, gently taking the handkerchief from your hand and using it to dab away the traces of tears and mucus you had missed. "There, there, y/n. No need to cry. It's just good old Shachi and Penguin."

Meanwhile, Shachi shot Ikkaku a disapproving look, planting his hands on his hips and gesturing first towards her and then towards you. "A bit of respect for your seniors wouldn't hurt, you know. Anyway, what's going on with them?"

"We're practically the same age, Shachi. And need I remind you of the captain's words? We're all equals, including Bepo," Ikkaku retorted, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. However, she quickly realized that bringing up the problem at hand might not have been the best choice, as a surprised squeal from Penguin shifted her attention back to you, still teary-eyed.

"Hey, everything's okay, y/n. Whatever's on your mind, we'll find a way to sort it out," Penguin assured you, doing his best to soothe your distress by gently patting away the lingering traces of moisture around your eyes. As you and Penguin tried to calm yourselves, embarrassed by the presence of not only Ikkaku but also two of your boyfriend's closest childhood friends, Penguin unexpectedly placed his hat on your head. The warm fabric cocooned your head snugly.

Eventually, your tears subsided, leaving only occasional silent hiccups in their wake. During this time, Ikkaku reluctantly filled Penguin and Shachi in on your situation, offering them insight into your current state, even if she seemed a bit unwilling to share at first.

Shachi let out a defeated sigh and scratched the back of his head, looking down at you over his tinted glasses. "So, any clue why he's been acting so distant? Captain must have one damn good reason to be giving you the cold shoulder like that, because to put if quite frankly, he got a lot of free time right now." His scarlet red eyes met yours, and you offered a weak nod, sensing his keen interest. "I'm not entirely certain, but I think it all started last week when he returned from his shower...." you mumbled, avoiding his gaze and blushing slightly.

"Oh my god, spare us the details if it happened during your intimate moments. I can live without that kind of insight into Captain," Ikkaku protested, shaking her head vigorously and crossing her arms defensively.

Shachi chuckled at Ikkaku's reaction, revealing his sharp teeth as he retorted, "You know how the saying goes, Ikkaku, the devil's in the details."

You felt a twinge of embarrassment, wishing you hadn't let your guard down so much around the crew. The thought of Law finding out that you had discussed your relationship issues with them made you cringe. But considering your lack of options, you knew you had to proceed.

Penguin's gentle voice brought you back to reality, his blue eyes locking onto yours. "Pay no mind to those two scatterbrains. You don't have to tell us if you're uncomfortable, but if you accidentally stepped on his toes somehow, we might be able to help you sort it out if you open up about it. Shachi and I have plenty of experience with that, believe me." He offered you an encouraging pat on the shoulder, while Shachi and Ikkaku now turned to face Penguin together, hissing in protest, "We're not scatterbrains!"

With a sigh, you gathered your thoughts and began explaining the situation that you believed marked the beginning of this strained dynamic. Just as you finished describing how Law had suddenly turned away, Penguin and Shachi exchanged a knowing glance before focusing back on you. Shachi grinned and chuckled. "Hey, y/n, you don't have to answer, but did you happen to do anything unusual?" You replied in a hoarse voice, "What do you mean?"

Penguin continued Shachi's line of thought. "Like, you know, anything new. Like a pet-name or something?" Both of them watched you intently, and you gave a wide-eyed look, feeling embarrassed as you nodded slightly. Ikkaku let out a dying sound, almost covering her ears with her hands. "Oh my god, do I really want to hear this?"

Shachi's snickering continued as he flashed his teeth, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "No need to explain. If my hunch is right, poor y/n stumbled into the biggest blunder imaginable." Just as Shachi finished his statement, Penguin's neck snapped in your direction, his eyes widening as realization dawned on him. He couldn't help but blurt out the revelation to Ikkaku anyway, his voice too loud for comfort. "Did you call him 'doctor'?!" You winced at the volume of his words, wishing you could disappear into thin air at that moment. Slowly, you nodded, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Ikkaku seemed torn between wanting to join you in your vanishing act and wanting to console you. She spoke up, trying to offer reassurance. "Well, it's not a big deal, right? I mean, it's literally his profession, so it's not like it's something out of the ordinary."

Shachi rolled his eyes at her words. "That's precisely the issue." Ikkaku looked at him, confusion etched on her face. "What do you mean?"

Letting out another sigh, Shachi brought his hand to his forehead and began to explain while gesturing. "Captain might be a pirate, but he still holds onto his professional ethics as a doctor. Not that I think he´s not into this. We all know he´s a perv. But knowing him, he probably struggled with the moral aspect anyhow." Penguin nodded in shared agreement, then laid a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I´m fully with you at your endeavor though. Nothing out of the window on a ship full of medical professionals."

Shachi, looking somewhat shocked, threw his hands up theatrically his mouth wide open. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Taking in all the information, you let out a sigh, a wave of sadness washing over you. You were aware that Law had strong emotional barriers, but if Shachi and Penguin were right, you hadn't realized that he couldn't even communicate his preferences to you openly, even when it was related to his ethical standards. You shivered slightly but composed yourself, gaining the attention of those around you.

"So, what's the plan?" Ikkaku raised an eyebrow, curious about your next steps. For a brief moment, you looked down, clenching your fists before responding. "I suppose I need to talk to Law. I already feel bad for burdening you guys with all of this."

As you looked back up at them, you were met with surprised expressions on Ikkaku's, Shachi's, and Penguin's faces. Color drained from their features, and they all seemed to be staring right behind you. Confused, you turned to see what had captured their attention, and a cold chill ran down your spine as you heard no other than Law's sulky voice.

"Do you now?" His voice rang out, catching you off guard. Ikkaku cried out in surprise, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Shachi quickly joined in with a question, "Captain, what brings you here?!"

You didn´t have to turn around to know that Law was frowning at them. “I could ask you the same to all of you. One moment I´m in my study, the next moment I get informed from Uni that four members of the crew are from their posts without notice.”

You swallowed hard, realizing the predicament you had unintentionally dragged the others into. Not wanting to implicate them further, you turned toward your captain, locking eyes with his stern gaze as you prepared to respond. However, when your gazes met, you found yourself unable to form any words. Each syllable seemed to stick in your dry throat, likely from the aftermath of your recent crying spell.

It didn't take much for Law to piece together the situation. The tear stains on your face, the handkerchief in Penguin's hand, the concerned expressions on Ikkaku and Shachi's faces, and most telling of all, Penguin's hat still resting on your head like a dorn in his eye – it all added up to a clear picture. With a deep sigh and a quick rub of his temple, Law motioned behind him. "Shachi, Penguin, Ikkaku. Get back on your positions. Now."

As you felt your crewmates start to scramble behind you, you sensed Law's strong hand on your head, gently yet determinedly removing Penguin's hat from your head and returning it to its owner without a second glance. Just as the other three began to move away, Ikkaku sent you a worried look, Shachi and Penguin giving you reassuring thumbs-up gestures from a distance.

Once they had left, Law stood still for a moment, his full attention on you. You silently reached out to him with your gaze, a question forming in your eyes. "What about me?"

He gave you a brisk look before he turned around. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten you. You wanted to talk, right y/n-ya? Then follow me." With a gulp, you gathered your resolve, trailing after Law through the dimly lit corridors of the Polar Tang. The tension hung heavily in the air as you walked, uncertain about what was to follow.

The two of you came to a standstill only a few minutes later. Lost in your thoughts about the impending conversation, your mind already racing with imagined scenarios, you suddenly realized that Law hadn't led you to your shared living quarters but instead to the submarines' operation room. Irritation welled up within you, and you shot him a pointed look as he pushed open the sturdy iron door and held it open for you.

"What? You need a personal invitation?" he remarked with a smug smile, raising one of his dark eyebrows. His behavior only fueled your frustration, aggravating how he could act as though the past week hadn't even occurred.

With a hint of sarcasm, you retorted, "Nah, I just didn't think I had a doctor's appointment today," before slipping past him and entering the dimly lit operating room, the frown on Laws faces evident. You were well aware that your snappy response wouldn't do any favors for the situation, especially if Shachi´s guess was right, but the way he was nonchalantly messing with you despite the recent tension ignited a raging fire within you.

As your eyes gradually adjusted to the dim lighting, you mustered the room you stood in. The space was bathed in a subdued, bluish light that emanates from overhead fixtures, casting an almost ethereal glow over the space. The walls are paneled in dark metal, giving the room an industrial feel, while shelves and cabinets are neatly arranged along one side, storing medical supplies, instruments, and equipment.

In the center of the room stood a sturdy, adjustable operating table with clean, white sheets draped over it. Overhead, a collection of lamps that could be adjusted to provide focused illumination on the table, created a well-lit and sterile environment for medical procedures. A sleek console nearby housed monitors and displays that provided vital information during the many surgeries your crew performed, one of them being the anesthetic machine you knew Penguin operated most of the times.

Near the table, there was a sink with multiple faucets and a variety of soap and disinfectant dispensers, underscoring the emphasis on maintaining a sterile environment. Cabinets around the sink stored gloves, masks, and other protective gear. A small workstation with a computer and medical records was positioned against the opposite wall, enabling the crew to access crucial information during procedures.

The room wasn´t overly spacious but was carefully organized to ensure efficient movement.

Just when you had finished your quick inspection, you heard the hefty iron door shut behind you, sealing you both inside. Standing close to the operating table, you turned towards Law, finally taking his form in for the first time this today.

His tall figure was framed by the subdued bluish light, casting angular shadows that only accentuate his sharp features. His raven-black hair fell messily over his forehead, the strands catching the faint glow from the overhead fixtures. On a closer look, his eyes seemed even more tired than usual. He's dressed in familiar attire, a black shirt with the Heart Pirates Logo embroidered on it, as well as his signature spotted jeans and hat.

Law's attention focused on you, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he watches your reactions and body language. His intense gaze held a mixture of concern, and perhaps a hint of regret. Despite the apparent nonchalance he displayed earlier, you could now see the underlying vulnerability that he couldn't quite manage to conceal now all alone with you, the lines on his forehead and the subtle tension in his jaw especially prominent.

You cross your arms in front of you, creating a protective barrier against the eerie atmosphere that seems to hang in the air. The dim lighting accentuates the tension between you and Law, amplifying the weight of the conversation that's about to unfold. Taking a deep breath, you finally break the silence, your voice steady despite the unease you feel.

"So, care to explain why we gotta talk here of all places?" you inquire, your tone a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Your gaze locks onto Law's, searching for any hints in his expression that might reveal his intentions. His usually unreadable eyes hold a mixture of emotions, and you can't help but wonder what he's truly thinking.

Law's response is measured, his voice carrying a touch of that characteristic calm that has both comforted and confounded you in the past. "It's neutral ground. This is our best chance from distractions and prying eyes. I don´t want even more of the crew to get involved in this.” he gives you a stern look, hinting at the situation he just dissolved.

You look guilty to the ground, nodding in understanding about his reasoning even if you weren´t entirely convinced since the roof deck would also have done the job. It felt more so that the operation room's sterile environment and its connection to Law's profession as a doctor seemed to be the room where he felt emotionally most stable for a conversation like this.

"Look, I'm sorry about that, but we could've talked about a potential break-up in our room or somewhere less... formal," you whisper, your voice carrying a touch of vulnerability as your gaze slowly returns to Law's. Tearful frustration lingers in your eyes, a reflection of the emotional turmoil that has been churning within you over the past week.

At the mention of the word "break-up," Law's eyes widened in genuine surprise. His usually composed expression briefly faltered, replaced by a mixture of shock and regret that's almost palpable. His golden eyes held yours, as he spoke quickly, a touch of urgency in his voice. "Are you crazy? I'm not planning to break up with you."

You hold his gaze, unsure how to react properly to his intense response. Your emotions swirl within you, a mixture of relief, confusion, and lingering frustration. Overwhelmed by it all, you decide to follow the crew's motto and follow your heart's lead.

"Then why avoid me like the plague? You could've just said you're not into the whole doctor-roleplay thing due to your ethics" you huff, your words tinged with a mixture of irritation and longing.

As you unfold your arms, it's a silent acknowledgment that you're willing to engage in this conversation, even if it means doing so in a place that feels slightly uncomfortable. The operation room's equipment continues its low hum, a steady backdrop to the charged atmosphere that envelops you both.

Law seems to wrestle with his words for a moment, his gaze flickering away from you briefly before returning, his expression a mix of resignation and determination.

He takes a step closer, bridging the emotional gap between you as a sigh escapes him, tinged with an air of resignation. "I'd be lying greatly if I said I'm not into this, y/n-ya, and that's precisely the problem," he confesses. You gaze at him, your eyes widening slightly at his unexpected admission.

"Hell, I'd willingly comply with any desire you express in that regard," he continues, his tone carrying a mix of sincerity and frustration. "Whether it's indulging in role play or dissecting you all over this damn place. But my concern lies in the consequences. If my professionalism wavers, then what? I've already been labeled a freak by the world, and I couldn't care less about that but what about my crew? And most importantly, what about you?" His voice softens, as if he's revealing a truth that has been weighing heavily on him.

Law words linger in the air, the gravity of his dilemma palpable. The ambient sounds of the room seem to fade as you both stand there, engrossed in this intimate conversation.

"When you were on our bed, looking so alluring and ready for me," he continues, his voice almost a whisper now, "I found myself grappling with that very question. And truth be told, I still haven't found a satisfactory answer."

His eyes bore into yours, as if he's trying to convey his sincerity through his gaze alone.

You listened, your heart pounding as he lays bare a part of his emotions that he rarely exposes. It's both comforting and utterly terrorizing to witness Law like this. However, in reality you wanted to lay this part of him even barer to your eyes. Collecting your answer to follow your agenda, you replied to him, a slight smile on your lips.

"But thats kinda the charm, right? After all, who could juggle this risk better than the genius Surgeon of Death?" you ask, your voice softer as well, as you take one of his hands into yours, grazing slowly over his finger tattoos reading “DEATH”.

Law takes a moment, his gaze briefly drifting to the floor before meeting yours again. His cheeks are slightly tinged, a reaction to the praise you've just offered. "Well, duh, this would be horrible without my ROOM. Even I'm not that sick," he quips, a hint of his usual playful sarcasm in his voice. His tone turns more serious as he continues, "You gotta understand, this is all about endurance and trust, y/n-ya. If you don't like-."

You shush him with a simple gesture, bringing Law's fingers to your lips and placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles. "I trust you, Law. With my life. Please know that I would never say this lightly." you reassure him, your voice carrying the sincerity of your emotions. Your gaze meets his, and for a brief moment, the intensity of your connection is palpable.

Law's eyes reflect a mixture of emotions, a pained expression surfacing as he realizes the depth of the trust you're offering him, despite the turmoil he had inadvertently caused in the past week. "God, how did I deserve you," he murmurs, a genuine sense of wonder in his voice. In a sudden surge of emotion, he closes the remaining distance between you, his pink lips capturing yours in a fervent kiss.

You respond eagerly, the heated kiss igniting a passionate dance between your mouths. Your tongue pricks gently at his lips, coaxing his own to meet yours in an intimate tango. Law's response is immediate, his lips parting to allow your tongues to intertwine in a dance of shared desire. The room's atmosphere seems to intensify, as if the charged energy between you is affecting the very air you breathe.

The kiss deepens, a reflection of the emotions that have been building between you over the past week. In this moment, the operation room's clinical surroundings fade into the background, leaving only the two of you and the unspoken promises that hang between your heated touches and the mingling of your breaths. Only after your break off the kiss to catch some air, do you realize, that Law has elevated you onto the steel table behind you, the cold sensation making your spine chill.

"Are you okay with continuing here?" Law murmurs against your skin, gently nipping at your neck. It's clear that he's very enamored with the smell and feel of being so close to you again. "Sure. Just surprise me, doctor," you giggle, running your fingers through his thin hair. Law glances up at you, his face blushing slightly before he straightens up and scratches the back of his neck. "God damn, it's going to take some getting used to hearing that from you in a setting like this."

You grin at him, giving him a playful wink. "I'm not complaining. You look adorable when you're embarrassed."

"I'll show you adorable," he grumbles to himself, turning towards the table and the station nearby. You watch with interest, trying to see what Law is taking from the wardrobe. His broad frame intentionally blocks your view, making it impossible to see what he's doing. After a few moments of trying to distract yourself by kicking your feet back and forth in the air, you hear a loud snap of rubber coming from where Law was standing.

Your head snaps to him, realizing that he's covered his hands with a pair of medical gloves. He slowly makes his way back to your side, sitting on a rolling steel chair in front of you, a smirk on his lips. "Let's start all of this light, alright? So tell me, why are you here today?"

You already wanted to answer his first question when you realized that Law had already slipped into a role. For a brief moment, you were amazed at how effortless it seemed for him to play his part, but on the other hand, it shouldn't surprise you, considering his expertise. "Well-um..." you struggled to think of a reason, feeling that simply pointing at your cunt would be too quick as a starting point.

Luckily, Law quickly caught on, raising an eyebrow in amusement at your loss for words. "Any recent health problems? Need a check-up?" you contemplated your options before Law started to grin mischievously. "Too horny to think?" "Law!" you exclaimed, pouting.

"Sorry, what was that? I don't know any Law," he countered, crossing his arms in front of his chest playfully and smirking. "Sorry, Doctor," you chuckled. "Doctor-?" he asked once more, clearly wanting to hear something more specific. You sighed, already questioning whether this was a good idea, because it seemed that Law was way deeper into this than you had guessed. "Doctor Trafalgar," you sighed before continuing.

"Say, do you tease all your patients like this? Because if so, I have questions," you remarked, exaggerating a playful sense of exasperation in your tone. You couldn't help but smile as you spoke, the earlier tension of the conversation fading into a more lighthearted atmosphere.

Law responded with a nonchalant shrug and a widening grin. "Only the ones that catch my interest," he replied, his voice carrying a teasing undertone. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he gazed at you, his golden eyes filled with mischief.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head in mock disbelief. "So, I'm just another interesting case for you, huh?" you retorted, playing along with the banter.

His fingers idly tapped against a nearby counter as he maintained eye contact, his playful demeanor undeterred. "Oh, you're much more than just a case, y/n-ya," he said, his voice lowering slightly. "You've managed to intrigue no other but the Surgeon of Death himself."

You raised an eyebrow in mock suspicion, a smile tugging at your lips. "And what exactly has intrigued the Surgeon of Death so much?"

Law leaned in closer, his gaze never wavering from yours. "Why don't we find that out together? For starters, you could get rid of all that fabric. Makes it terribly hard for me to conduct a proper screening of my dearest patient."

Oh.

You gulped, amazed at how well Law was maintaining his character. Encouraged by this, you tried to take it a step further. "Well, I guess you're gonna have to help me with that, Doc. You see, I've got this terrible headache."

Law grins cheekily at that, his hands gliding slowly over your top. "And why should a mild migraine interfere with your ability to undress?"

"Well, you see…" you start to explain, but Law cuts you off as he drags his fingers slowly along your sides, towards the hem of your shirt. "Seems to me like you want my help for another reason," he says with a smug grin. "But how could I deny you that, when you´ve been so good up until now?"

He softly places a kiss on your neck before helping you pull off your top, leaving you only in your bra. His tan tattooed hands quickly roam over your clothed breasts, as his lips continue to trail along your neck. "Might as well check for some lumps while we're at it," Law mumbles into your skin, his teeth lightly grazing your sensitive spots. He unhooks your bra to gain better access to your breasts.

Once the lacy material comes off, his slender fingers massage the outermost layer of your breasts, gradually moving in circles. You can't help but stifle a moan, even though the fabric of his gloves is still between his smooth skin and yours, creating a unique sensation. As his fingers reach your nipples, he grazes over them, causing them to tighten. "I-I don't know if that's really necessary for the diagnosis, Doctor," you huff, searching for Law's mouth with your own.

"Oh, but I've heard it does wonders for a patient's well-being," he grins into the kiss, seeking your approval. As you nod, Law quickly reprimands you with a firm squeeze of your thigh. "Mind your manners. You have to answer your doctor properly, or I won't be able to diagnose you correctly." You squeal at his action, a quick "Yes" escaping your lips.

"Yes…?" he tries again, teasingly biting your lip with his teeth.

"Yes, Doctor Trafalgar" you moan, desperate for more stimulation. "That's right."

Slowly, Law glides down your body, his hands cupping every curve of your torso as he continues his exploration.

As Law reaches your breasts, his mouth cups around one mound of your nipple, sucking sweetly on the pink, hard bud. Another moan escapes you, and Law continues to massage your other breast with utmost care, while his other hand lightly traces circles over your thigh. As he switches sides, tending to your other nipple with his tongue, he switches the side of your thigh as well.

With so much happening at the same time, you can't help but squeeze your legs together. The heat that starts to accumulate in your lower body becomes too much to handle without proper relief. The cold steel table underneath you provides support, but you crave something more. Luckily, just as you're about to say something, Law pulls away from you, a small connecting line of saliva still linking your nipple to his mouth.

Quickly wiping it away, he gives you a quick peck on the lips, mumbling, "All clear. Found no anomalies." You sigh into the kiss, and your hands slowly wrap around his neck, gently cradling it with your nails.

"Well, that's good to know," you respond. Law responds with a low rumble in his tattooed chest before slowly pulling away, leading the two of you through the room. However, with your nude breasts right in front of him, nipples perky and glossy from his earlier attention, it's hard for him to deny his building arousal.

He slowly approaches you once again, one of his gloved hands trailing down your right side before coming to rest atop your plush thighs, and his other hand cupping your chin gently. Your lips are close to touching, and he whispers with ragged breath, "Are there any other things we should check? Maybe around here? I haven't had the pleasure of performing your pelvic exams yet.", he muses, slowly dragging his hand that rested on your thigh over your abdomen, his fingers drawing small circles on it.

"Yeah, good idea," you breathe out, your breath hitching as you squirm under Law's hot touch. His skilled fingers swiftly free you from your pants, leaving you only in a pair of panties

"These will also need to go," Law hums, snapping the band of the lacy fabric, earning a quiet moan from you. You complain that it's unfair for only you to be nude. Law grins into the kiss he plants on your neck, before adding, "Now, now. It wouldn't be very professional of me to strip in front of my dear patient, right y/n-ya?" He quirks an eyebrow, giving you a teasing smirk as his hands slowly start to cup the mound of your clothed vagina, his fingers sliding tauntingly slow over the small hill.

"Fine, then let me do it, Dr. Heartbreaker," you huff, slowly opening up his shirt, revealing the tan tattooed artwork of black curved ink that covered his chest. You gradually trace over Law's chest, your fingers rippling slowly over each of his abdominal pecs, following the small black happy trail.

Just as you reach the hem of his pants, Law grasps your panties, sliding them to the side. His fingers delve carefully between your swollen folds, gathering the slickness with a naughty grin on his lips. "Seems like you definitely don't have a lubrication issue," he remarks.

"Law!" you huff, your fingers gripping on the cold steel under you, searching for more pressure from his gloved fingertips. Law is all too happy to satisfy your craving, his two gloved fingers diving deep into you just after chuckling to himself. "Sorry, sorry," he mutters.

The feeling of the firm rubber initially makes you cringe for a second, but you quickly adapt to the foreign sensation. You even relax a bit, enjoying the chilled texture it provides. With a stifled moan, you push yourself against him, desperate for stimulation. You're relieved to notice that Law has gripped your hips with his other hand to stabilize you on the table. His fingers start slowly but surely moving in and out of you.

The squelching sound of the rubber gloves and the juices of your cunt only spurred you on more, when Law hit that very special spot inside you. “Fuck, right there.” You moaned, arms slung around Laws neck, trying to hold the angle that gave you the so much needed stimulation, the heat in your core rising and rising until it was close to snapping. Law seemed to realize exactly how close you were to cumming, because just when you tensed up, close to spilling over he retreated his gloved fingers, the most self-sufficient smile on his sharp features.

“God, no, you´re so mean!” you quiver, legs shaky from the sudden break of contact, your orgasm ruined to no avail. “And you´re so very desperate.” He retorts with a sly grin, freeing himself of the gloves and disposing them on the small tray next to the table, before he´s back at your side, slowly opening up the button of his pants, peeling them down to reveal his clothed bock by a pair of dark spotted boxers. “But I know exactly the thing you need as a cure for that.”

You look down at him, eyeing the tent in Laws tight skinny jeans. You grin weakily, seeing the state he was in, slowly dragging your hand over him. “Do you now? Seems to me, like it´s more for your own treatment, Doctor.” Law groaned at the sudden contact of your hand on his clothed cock, sucking some air through gritted teeth as you dragged out the pet-name, before giving him a firm squeeze.

“Our treatment.” Law retorts, a groan escaping him as you pull his boxers down with much vigor, his tan cock springing free. You lick your lips at the sight. You´d always appreciated the stark contrast between Laws tan skin and the pink tip of his cock, but in combination with the trail of precum dripping down from it towards one of his most prevalent blue veins, you could feel your core throbbing with need to feel him as deep inside you, as he could possibly enter you.

Slowly you cradled his length, giving it a few taunting pumps, thumb swiping experimentally over his leaking cockhead. “And what does that treatment involve exactly?” you look up to him through long lashes, licking over your lips to moisten them.

Law replies with ragged breath. “You´ll just find out in about a second. Now, be a good girl and spread your legs.”

Your quick to oblige, settling yourself on the cold steel under you with your elbows, all spread out for your lover to see. He gazes at your form for a brief second, absolutely love drunk before the feeling of your knowing smirk gets to heavy. He quickly grabs a condom from the small tray on his right side, pulling it over his length, before he aligns himself quickly with your entrance. His hands wrap carefully around your hips to keep you in place, before calling your name.

“y/n-ya.”

You look up to him, surprised when he leans in for a loving kiss on your lips, slowly sliding inside you as he whispers, "I love you."

You moan at the pleasurable sensation that comes with Law's intrusion, his throbbing member filling you perfectly. As your walls adjust to being stretched since the last time you were intimate, you respond to your lover's declaration, tangling your hands in his black locks as you search for Law's lips.

"I love you too, Law," you mewl, feeling the doctor's erection stretching you. Law's breath hitches as you tighten around him. "God... you're so wet."

"Just keep going," you moan, rocking your hips against his. A deep groan escapes Law as he slowly pulls out before forcefully thrusting his hips back into yours. "Fuck, Law!" you gasp wantonly, your captain groaning in response, holding you in place as he pounds your wetness with increasing intensity. "You're so desperate, y/n-ya, it's way too cute," Law huffs with a grin, partially withdrawing before hooking one of your legs around his hip.

"You're the one fucking me over your own OP table," you retort, crying out in pleasure when Law suddenly hits your sweet spot, a grin spreading across his face at your reaction. "And you're enjoying it," Law's dark voice resounds near your ears as he leans closer, angling himself to penetrate deeper into your soaked core.

Overwhelmed by pleasure, you cry out, digging your nails into your lover's tattooed back. Burying your head in his neck, you inhale Law's scent, the musky aroma mixed with alcohol making you dizzy. "You like it when your doctor fucks you like this, sweetheart? All spread out and at my mercy?" Law groans through clenched teeth, nearing climax.

"God, I love it!" you reply, the intense heat building up in your core suffocating you with each passing second. "And do you trust me, y/n-ya?"

You nod eagerly, capturing your lover in another passionate kiss before he presses his thumb against your throbbing clit, sending electric jolts through your body.

"Counter Shock."

For a brief moment, everything turns white as your orgasm crashes over you unexpectedly. Before you can comprehend what just happened, you realize that your mouth is wide open, Law's name slipping from your lips like a mantra, and your sweet juices flowing over his cock while your walls tighten around him, milking him until the last drop.

With a groan, the handsome surgeon climaxes inside you, a low moan of your name escaping his cracked lips as your sweaty bodies stick together on the operating table. Trying to catch your breath, you look up at Law, who is also trying to calm himself.

"What in the devil's fruit name was that?!" you ask. Law gives you a tired but mischievous grin.

"That was Counter Shock. I just discovered it recently. It's a Haki-infused electrical power." Law's eyes glint with mischief. You can only gasp at the revelation that your lover just brought you to orgasm through electrostimulation before playfully hitting him on the shoulder. "You're such a sick man, Trafalgar!"

"Coming strong from Miss Med-Kink." he said with a playful smirk, referring to the recent intimate moment they shared. With a nonchalant demeanor, he pulled out and efficiently put his trousers back on. Law promptly handed you a towel, gently wiping you down and planting a tender kiss on your temple.

Assisting you in getting back on your feet, you slowly dressed yourself while helping Law sanitize the room. As you stood just outside the heavy iron door, the scent of alcohol lingered instead of the previous scent of passion. Law glanced back at you before speaking.

"Oh, and y/n-ya," he called out to you.

You turned to face your captain. "Yes?"

He cleared his throat before continuing. "This time, everything we just experienced remains strictly confidential. Understood?"

You flashed a mischievous grin, giving him a wink before resuming your position, leaving Law blushing behind.

"Of course, dear doctor."

#op #one piece #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar d law #trafalgar law x reader #bepo #shachi #penguin #ikkaku #heart pirates #my stuff #writing #uni #med kink

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

Same as it ever was 11

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: I'm just tryna get through the week.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The waiting room is excruciating. You find yourself standing more than you sit. Both are torture. Your concern mounts with your discomfort and the more you think of Hansen’s response. He’s a demanding asshole, he told you several times he takes what he wants, but today, he let you go. Even he could see something was seriously wrong.

Funny how you never dread the doctor so much when you’re there for Simone or Malik, but for yourself, it makes your insides knot. You can’t even think of the last time you made an appointment for yourself. That’s probably not good either.

As the doctor examines you and goes over your symptoms, you wince and struggle not to keel over. He’s patient and gentle, treatment you’re unused to. That stray realisation is even grimmer as it sticks in your head.

“Hmm, I’m going to be optimistic and say it’s a bruised tailbone,” he explains, “we can send you for imaging to check for a fracture but it wouldn’t likely be possible today. I’ll call the lab with a request, just to make sure.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” you lean on the examination table, “so what does that mean? Painkillers? Stretches?”

“Rest,” he points at you with his gold pen, “avoid sitting. You want to keep pressure off the tailbone. Lay on your stomach when you sleep.” He tucks his pen in his coat pocket and goes to the cabinet in the corner by the sink, “you’ll want to keep this handy.” He opens the door and slips out a box, “it’ll help.”

As he gives you the box, you consider the image of the donut cushion on the front. The inflatable seat is stuffed into the tight package. You’re not unfamiliar with it.

“Apply ice. Every twenty minutes for the next two days, then two to three times a day should work,” he takes his pen out and his little pad, writing as he talks. “Make your husband do some of the chores.”

You cringe. You nod as you accept his advice. You were just about to argue; you have two kids and a job.

“I’m writing you a note. You’re not working for a week at least. I’ll fax a letter that should be acceptable for the time-off,” he rips off the top page and hands it over.

“Thank you,” you utter again as you look at his chicken scratch. “What is this?”

“Something for the pain and something for your blood pressure.”

“My blood pressure?”

“Your readings are elevated. It could be stress, it could be anything. Right now, I want you to keep track. Measure it and write it down. Come back in a month so we can go over the numbers.”

“Is it that bad?”

“At your age, it’s not entirely unusual,” he assures you, “better we catch it before it’s too serious. You get headaches? Feel tired?”

“Well, I have kids, I’m always tired and yes, they give me headaches sometimes,” you shrug.

“How often do the headaches come?”

“I don’t know, sometimes two or three times a week.”

“Do you have a history of migraines?”

“Not since college,” you answer.

“Ah,” he nods. “Take the pills, icy your tailbone, and stay in bed.”

“Doctor,” you go to argue.

“If it isn’t already a break, you’ll make it one,” he girds, “the lab will call you about your imaging appointment.”

You swallow down his orders. They’re much easier to follow than Hansen’s. And surely better for you. You thank him once more and leave the room, stopping by the counter to give your work address and get your imaging paperwork.

As you get to the car, you unpack the cushion and use the little pump to inflate it. You drop it on the seat and get in. It still hurts like a bitch but not intolerable. You sit behind the wheel and stare.

You could cry as you go over the appointment. Is it that obvious that you don’t take care of yourself? That you don’t have time? The doctor saw right through you and that brings it all flooding in. You’re barely holding it all together, you’re not sure how much longer you can.

You make yourself start the car and pull out of the lot. You go down to the pharmacy and turn in the script, wandering the aisles as you wait for it to be filled. You take out your phone to check the time. A missed call from Pete and another from Hansen. You don’t have the energy for either of them. Once you have your meds, you have to get the kids.

You claim your prescriptions and start your race against time. Waiting to see the doctor alone took up the bulk of your day. Now you have to get through the rest.

You nearly speed up to the curb of the school, at the tail end of the pick-up as the clock ticks on. You roll around as you see Simone and Malik waiting with Mrs. Guinness. You roll down the window and wave, thanking her loudly as the kids rush to the car.

You get out to strap Malik into his seat as Simone grips her book in her lap but doesn’t open it. You’re breathing loudly as the pain coils around your spine. You muffle it and give her a smile as she watches you. Her eyes dart to the front seat.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Good,” you say as you snap the buckles together.

“What’s that for?” She points to the cushion.

“The seat’s uncomfortable,” you grunt and push yourself out of the back door.

You shut the door and get in the front. You settle in, clicking in your own belt and fix your mirror. Simone is smart, too smart. She’s quiet as you shift into drive.

“Mommy, mommy! We played a game today–”

“Shh,” Simone interjects, silencing her brother, “mom,” she utter tenuously, “are you pregnant?”

You nearly scoff as you grip the wheel tight. You laugh and shake your head. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well…” she lets her thoughts hang in the air before she speaks to them, “you and dad have been… arguing and you have that cushion.”

“Trust me, I’m too old,” you shake your head, “don’t worry, you won’t be having another little brother.”

“Oh,” she hums, disappointed, “I was hoping for a sister.”

You take a breath. It’s all so complicated but some of it isn’t. They’re going to know sooner than later.

“Look, the cushion is because I hurt myself. I was waiting until we got home to tell you but I fell and hit my bum pretty bad. Got some bruising is all,” you explain lightly, “doctor says I’m good, just need to rest.”

“Mommy’s hurt?” Malik babbles.

“Oh,” Simone accepts again, “I… does dad know?”

“He’s been working but I’m gonna give him a call,” you fight to keep your tone steady, “he’s gonna have to come home and help me out a bit.”

“Mommy, you can have Donny, he’ll make you feel better.”

“Mal, she doesn’t want your stupid dragon.”

“Sim,” you rebuff, “don’t be mean. Malik, you can bring Donny in to snuggle with me, okay? That’s really nice of you.”

“Ugh,” Simone huffs and you see her roll her eyes in the rear view.

“Sim, do you have enough time between chapters to help with dinner?” You tease. She doesn’t answer. “Oh, don’t worry, I can manage some mac and cheese on my own.”

You flip on the radio and let the music waft through the car, trying to push away the other worries. You are going to have to call Pete but you really don’t know how much help he’s going to be.

🗄️

You pull into the driveway and repress a groan. You’re really starting to feel it. Your legs are numb yet painful. You push yourself out of the car and grab your purse and the cushion, your keys jingling loudly in your hand.

You open the back door but Simone’s too quick. She’s right beside you, waving you off.

“I’ll get him out,” she insists, “the doctor said.”

“I know what the doctor said,” you chuckle, “thanks, Sim.”

Another car door snaps shut from somewhere unseen. You don’t think much of it as other neighbours often get home at the same time. You wait patiently for your daughter to unbuckle Malik as he squirms impatiently.

“About damn time,” the timbre roils in the air hotly.

You almost let a ‘shit’ slip through your lips as Hansen’s voice makes you tense. You squeeze the cushion and look over Simone’s head at him. She lifts Malik down onto the ground and she turns to face your uninvited guest.

“Ew, it’s him,” she sneers.

“Nice to see you too, toots,” he struts up the walk with his hands in his pockets, “isn’t this sweet? Got the whole clan together.”

“What are you doing here?” Simone challenges.

He tilts his head, brows arching, “you know, maybe I should give your mom some time off so she can teach you some manners.”

“Hansen,” you put your hand on Simone’s shoulder and sidle past her and echo the same question, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m actually being a good guy,” he leans around, speaking to Simone pointedly, “not evil at all. Checking in since I sent you off to the hospital.”

You hesitate. That’s not exactly believable. You know why he’s here; to taunt you. At least he has the discretion to try to hide that from your children.

“Bruised tailbone, doctor is sending a letter, I’ll have to take a few days off to recover,” you say cautiously, knowing he won’t like the news.

“A few days…” he mulls with a sour expression, “bullsh–” he stops himself as Malik comes for to cling to your leg, peeking out from behind you.

“Mommy,” your son whines, “I wanna go inside.”

“Tell him to go away,” Simone hisses.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hansen, I gotta get the kids inside and make dinner–”

“You can do all that but you can’t drag your –behind– to work,” he challenges.

“I have a doctor’s note–”

“I don’t f–” he struggles to censor himself, stopping as he waves off his agitation. He exhales and wipes the frustration from his face, “you’re right. You’re in bad shape, it’s plain to see. So where’s the husband? Shouldn't he be here doing the heavy lifting?”

“My dad’s on his way home,” Simone insists.

“Yeah, he’ll be here soon,” you repeat her lie, “to help.”

“Well, he ain’t,” Hansen bounces on his feet, “but I am, so why don’t I help you out, huh? We need you back to work,” he reaches for your purse, latching onto the strap. “So you should rest.”

“Dude, go,” Simone snarls and pushes his arm.

“Hey,” he growls back at her. “I’m helping.”

“We don’t want your help. She’s not at work, you don’t boss her around here.”

“Simone, Mr. Hansen,” you snip, “please.”

“I’m being a nice guy,” Lloyd retracts his hand and throws it up, “she’s the one making this hard.”

You look at your daughter as she sticks her tongue out.

“She’s twelve,” you state.

“Yeah, and what are you? Sixty?” Simone accuses him.

He recoils, his lashes batting violently, “excuse me?”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, “Simone, take your brother inside,” you hold your keys out, “let me talk to him. It’s just work.”

“And the doctor said–”

“Please, Simone, thank you,” you shake the keys.

She sniffs and takes them. She blows a raspberry at Hansen as she grabs Malik and tears him away from your legs. You rub your neck, the donut cushion around your elbow, as you wait, staring at Hansen as he watches over your shoulder.

“Why?” You ask pointedly.

“What? I’m being good. I let you see a doctor for your fucked up booty and now I’m just tryna fill the hole left by that deadbeat–”

“Not in front of my kids,” you say.

“I was polite.”

“You are arguing with a twelve year old,” you shake your head, “please, I will do my best to get back to work. I know you don’t give a shit but I’m in so much pain, I can’t handle this right now. So please, go.”

“Huh, alright, let’s understand something here, you might be a little broken at the moment but you don’t tell me what to do,” he snarls, “that’s the first thing. Second, you put a muzzle on that daughter–”

“Don’t,” you warn.

“That mouth,” he points in your face, “it’s the ass that’s bruised, not that.”

You clamp your lips tight as your nostrils flare. You stand in a deadlock, silently glaring back at your boss. You feel the tension ready to snap. This is the moment where you could fuck everything up.

Neither of you speak, each measuring your next word but almost afraid to say it. A screech of tires veers in behind your car and fills the end of the driveway. You flinch and look past Hansen as Pete’s garish sports car beams back at you.

“Just in time,” Hansen mutters as he turns slowly.

Pete hops out and swings the door shut, almost frantic as his hair flops forward.

“Hey, I’ve been calling,” he puffs and stops short as he notices Hansen, “uh, everything okay? Where… are the kids?”

“Inside,” you eke out, clearing the frog from your throat, “everything is good, alright?” You try to convince yourself as much as your husband, “Mr. Hansen was just checking in. I missed work today. I went to see the doctor about… my fall.”

Pete blanches and nods, giving a guilty glance to his leather shoes.

“Yeah?” He dares to look at you, “you okay?”

“Bruised,” you answer bluntly, “so I was just telling Mr. Hansen that I am fine. I just need a few days to rest. And I was going to call to tell you the same but I had to get the kids.”

“Your wife’s a busy woman,” Hansen interjects, “hard worker. And she speaks so highly of you, bud.” He claps Pete’s shoulder, “you’re a businessman?”

Pete twitches, as if surprised. He looks at Hansen’s grasp on his shoulder but doesn’t shove it off. There’s a moment of recognition in his eye. Men and their ‘business’.

“Yeah, I run a fitness agency. We do equipment and training, aiming to get into the big leagues, you know, furnish facilities on the National scale,” Pete goes into his pitch.

“Ah, fitness, thriving right now,” Hansen slips easily into his role, “you know, I’m not wearing Louis Vuittons because I work in a dipshit office. I invest and I do it well.” He pulls his hand back and puts it on his hip, “why don’t you tell me more about this agency? I’m intrigued.”

You just stare. This has been an awful, painful day and it just won’t end.

“Uh, yeah, sure, come on in,” Pete sputters excitedly, waving him up the drive. “I got all my stuff in my bag.”

“Great, dinner’s on me,” Hansen offers, “for your time.”

“Oh, awesome,” Pete grins, “I’ll just get my bag out of the car. Honey,” he turns to you.

“Uh, yeah,” you swallow as Hansen faces you with a smirk, “right this way.”

You turn and hug the cushion against your stomach, each step tender and tingling. You sense him behind you, too close for comfort. He snickers quietly as you get to the door. You stop with your hand on the handle.

“Please,” you whisper.

“Be good and I will be, too,” he shoots back.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #pete brenner #dark pete brenner #dark!pete brenner #pete brenner x reader #series #same as it ever was #au #the gray man #pain hustler

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tripleyeeet · 3 months

Text

THANKS, LASS!

SUMMARY: Rugan finally gets to buy you that drink at the Elfsong... and say his proper thanks.

PAIRING: Rugan & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,252

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), teasing, a little bit of hair pulling if you squint, CONSENT!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, I've never written for this man in my life so if it's bad... just uh... move along, please. Also, thanks to everyone who voted for the poll! I promise I'll do more fun things like this when I'm not so sad and sick. :')

MASTERLIST

The pain that resides in your lower back is intense. A torturous shift of muscle and bone pushing itself in all the wrong spots. So much so that as you take that first step towards the Elfsong’s upstairs quarters you can’t help but groan at the impact. Remembering how awful it felt to fight off that horde of elementals alongside Lorroakan’s particularly brutal set of spells.

At this rate, the only thing you can feel is the need to rest and drink. Both of which somehow manage to pull your thoughts away from the staircase beneath your feet. Or more specifically how increasingly painful each step becomes.

“You guys still have that gold from earlier, right?” Karlach asks. She’s about two steps in front of you and barely hanging on herself. With her great axe strapped to her back, it’s a wonder she’s still upright considering she probably took the brunt of the fight.

“Yes, why?” Beside her, Shadowheart looks over skeptically. Even though she already knows why the tiefling’s asking.

“I ran out.”

“Of course, you’d conveniently run out of money the second we make it to the most expensive tavern in town.” Leaning against the railing of the staircase, Astarion uses one hand to steady himself and the other to flippantly wave her off. All while rolling his eyes before shooting you an unimpressed look. “I swear, all this woman does is mooch.”

“Says the bloodsucking vampire!” Karlach retorts, prompting Astarion to scoff.

“You know, comparing an eternal curse to a lack of financial responsibility is rather poor taste, Karlach.”

“Yeah, well—“

You’re already turning back towards the bottom of the staircase before you can listen further, grumbling under your breath. Moving your aching hands to your face to scrub them down in annoyance as you make a beeline for the bar.

All day they’d been at each other’s throats. Bickering about the littlest things as a result of too much pressure. Even before arriving within the city limits, you could feel the tension of everyone’s problems reaching their climax. And now it was well past the point of boiling over.

“What can I—“

“Whatever’s strongest, please.”

Awkwardly, you shift onto one of the barstools, cringing at the pain that radiates through your spine. Trying your best to ignore the exhaustion that settles once you inevitably trade your drink for a few pieces of gold.

“Rough day, I assume.”

You give the barkeep an annoyed nod, leaning forward to readjust your position. Attempting to alleviate the discomfort by putting more weight onto your elbows as you begin to anxiously sip. The drink overall isn’t bad for what it’s worth. A bit fiery as it slips through your lips and down your throat but still tolerable. Better than most of the shit you’ve ransacked on the road which leaves you somewhat thankful.

“You an adventurer?”

As you take another drink, pausing mid-sip to narrow your eyes at the barkeep you can’t help but wonder how he hasn’t gotten the hint. You’re not here to talk —you’re here to drink. To drown in the silence of your thoughts until you inevitably have to come back up for air and wander helplessly upstairs to bed. To wallow in your own pity as you try and decide whose problems you’ll have to face next in favour of avoiding your own.

Opening your mouth to respond, you’re quickly interrupted by a familiar voice. One that’s low and Northern —a jumble of words you don’t quite catch on account of the speed at which he scolds the barkeep causing him to scoff.

“He bothering you?”

Glancing to your left, you’re met with Rugan’s familiar eyes. All tired and blue, looking at you with an odd amount of smugness that has you holding back a smirk as you shake your head. “Not anymore.”

“Good. Ol’ Darvin’s always been a bit shit at social cues, haven’t you Darv?” As he speaks, his volume rises, catching the attention of the barkeep once again who flips him off.

“Oh, piss off, Zhent.”

All he does is laugh. Lending you a moment to take another much-needed sip feeling your stomach flip.

“I see you made it back in one piece.”

“Mostly.”

“Rough trip?”

You snort in response, knowing just how unaware he is of how truly rough it’s been. “You could say that.”

“Hopefully no more gnolls?”

“Only a few.” You shrug, watching him nod his head. Noticing the way he pauses his response to take your appearance in full, his eyes darting from the faded bloodstains coating the roots of your hair to the dishevelled way your armour sits on your frame, already begging to be discarded.

“When did you make it back?”

“A few nights ago.”

“And you’ve just now decided to take up my offer for a drink? Tsk, I’m offended,” he teases, his lips pulling down into a mock frown that has you biting your tongue and shaking your head, trying to appear aloof.

Because if you're being honest, at this moment you’re feeling anything but. Thanks to the way he continues to stare —practically drinking you in like a man devoid of hydration— it feels as though you’ll cave at any second. Something you know you can’t do because there’s work to be done.

“My sincerest apologies,” you reply dramatically, pausing to take the last few sips of your drink before sighing in relief. “Yesterday I was a bit tied up fighting a cloister of angry Sharran’s and today we had to murder a power-hungry wizard. So, the offer sort of slipped my mind if I’m being honest.”

Unsurprisingly, that piques his interest, prompting his brows to raise and his frame to sort of shift a bit closer. “Seems a bit excessive, don’t you think?”

“How do you mean?”

“Aren’t you meant to relax now that you’re back in the city?”

This time you laugh, throwing your head back —watching as he scrunches up his face in confusion until you eventually settle back down, wiping a stray tear from your eye.

An act you half expect him to question considering how absurd it looks suddenly erupting into madness. How despite always acting like you know exactly what you’re doing you’ve just shown him otherwise. Granting him what little access you’re willing to release in order to pull him in.

Which sounds ridiculous when you take into account you barely know the man. Having spoken to him on only two occasions, he really shouldn’t be trusted. Not at least until he’s proven himself an ally like others have. Instead, he should be placed at arm’s length like every other soul you’ve managed to save along the way. Looked at with fondness and curiosity but not faith. Never faith.

“Got yourself into some deep shite, have you?”

The way he smiles after he speaks leaves you questioning everything. The way your body shifts in response —the way your lungs give out and your legs move. The way everything feels warm and taut, forcing your mind to travel to places you know they shouldn’t.

“Course.”

“Bit of a troublemaker?”

In response, you shrug your shoulders and grin, unsure how to respond because, truthfully, you’re not. At least, not really. Sure, trouble always seems to find you as of late but obviously you don’t want it. Instead, what you want is peace. A night of no consequence or agenda. A night of song and dance and drink. A night of something other than what you’ve been constantly offered time and time again over these last few weeks.

Which is why you don’t protest when Rugan merely changes the subject, offering to buy you another drink. Or why you fail to stop after the second or the third —pausing around the fourth to debate going to bed before eventually relenting once more, smiling at the way he pokes fun at your lack of tolerance.

“Figured a fierce warrior like you’d be able to handle their drink.”

By that point, your mind is exclusively swimming around him. Thinking of all the ways you could further enjoy his company after this is over. Maybe you could ask him out for another drink. Or tag along with whatever trouble he’ll most likely get himself into again.

“Give me a break, Zhent,” you chastise, swirling the glass that now sits idly in your hand. Trying your best to tear your gaze from his, knowing that you’re drowning. Slipping further and further into those pretty fucking eyes that look and stare and absorb every single little thing you do. Every new glance making you unnecessarily nervous —a bundle of skittish thoughts and movements erupting over time, forcing your guard to quickly lower. Causing the once-severed connection between your mind and mouth to mend itself in the form of drunken rambles that have him practically on the edge of his seat.

“You know, I kept thinking I’d miss you when we arrived,” you tell him, glancing over your shoulder to hide the stupid grin that sits across your face at just the thought.

“You don’t say.” He grins back.

“Mhm. I kept having to tell myself not to get my hopes up.”

“Didn’t realize you viewed me so highly.”

“I don’t,” you immediately lie, despite knowing he’s already caught you. Thanks to his patience, charm, and heavy pockets he’s managed to earn at least one admittance of vulnerability, and knowing him that’s all he needs.

“You know, you’re a terrible liar,” he muses, and although you want to fight him on it, you don’t. Knowing that the conversation would just lead to another ill-performed lie tumbling from your already loosened lips.

“And you’re too smug.”

“Well, that’s because I have to be.”

You raise your brow. “Why?”

“Because pride gets you places. Shame doesn’t.”

Suddenly, you’re scrunching up your face and leaning forward, placing your glass on the counter between you —moving towards the edge of your chair so that you can explore his features the same way he did earlier.

Somehow it hardly phases him. Instead of making him sweat as it had previously done to you, you can sense that pride he’s talking about. All the underlying confidence that peaks through his pores, settling between the lines of age that reside around his mouth and eyes. It practically radiates off of him. Blinding you for a good few moments before it slowly fades behind the backdrop of something new. Something far more vulnerable, showcasing itself in the subtle way his eyes dart down towards the hand that’s suddenly found itself around his knee.

“You know, it’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes,” you say, speaking to both him and yourself. Attempting to boost whatever confidence the two of you once had during the flirtatious parts of your conversation. “In certain circumstances, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

Looking away, you then press your lips together and go to move your hand, feeling his quickly slip over top and how it pulls you back in again.

“This your way of granting me permission to be vulnerable, then?”

All you do is shrug, glancing down to see his fingers maneuvering your hand into his. Each digit lacing between the empty spaces of your own so that he can raise it and place a gentle kiss on your knuckles. An act that leaves you utterly breathless as he snorts and says something else. Something you don’t quite catch due to the fact that you’re already six feet below the surface, desperately trying to come up for air so that you can focus on the sound his mouth makes rather than what it might feel like against your skin. Or how it might taste after a long bout of—

“Oi, you listening?”

“Sorry?”

All he does is scoff as he kisses your hand again, watching your mouth open and close like a fish out of water. Taking you in with each struggling breath until he can feel your sense of stability returning.

“I said I’d really like to take you upstairs and fuck you, if that’s alright.”

At that moment, you’re completely speechless. A silent mess of twisting expressions too scared to respond with anything remotely charming.

As if you’ve been reduced to nothing but a follower worshipping their holy God, eventually all you do is nod and allow your body to be led up the stairs. Patiently waiting for the moment you step over that final threshold of privacy. All while internally wondering if what you’re doing is the right thing because there’s still so much work to be done. Not to mention the fact that everyone’s relying on you to—

“Aye, they can handle themselves for the night, yeah?”

Practically reading your mind, it’s as if you’re already one. A pair of bodies so tightly wound that by the time you’ve stepped into the room, he’s already working towards that goal.

Kicking the door closed, he presses into you almost instantly, moving his hands around your frame; lingering on the plushest parts as he inevitably slots his mouth against yours. Barely giving you a chance to think let alone breathe as he leads you to the bed. All while your hands wildly follow his in tandem, wrapping themselves around his shoulders —feeling them tense with excitement as the edges of your arms roughly knock against them on your way to hold his face.

Caressing his sturdy cheeks as he sits on the mattress’s edge, you then feel him pull you onto his lap, prompting you to smile against him. Feeling the way he gently bites back through the hazy taste of heated ale and desperation. Suppressing the urge to moan at the impact of his teeth taking hold of the skin before pulling back.

“You’re breathing a bit heavy there, sweetheart. Everything alright?”

You’re tempted to smack him but instead, you resort to merely tucking a hand behind his head to pull at his hair, watching his jaw shift. Feeling the tone of the room change almost as quickly as he grabs your chin.

“Careful there. Wouldn’t want to hurt that pretty little face of yours any further.”

For a moment his fingers feel tight against your face, pressing your lips into a pout until he eventually allows the softer side of his movements to return. Then you’re lost to the waves all over again, feeling him guide you to a standing position beside the bed. Watching intently as he follows behind, moving his fingers to the clasps of your armour.

“Bit overdressed it seems,” he jokes, instantly making quick work of all the fastenings and ties. Starting with your chest plate before making his way down to the belt of your trousers, painfully lingering on the latter.

“I see that pride of yours is still intact,” you say, moving in to kiss his lips. Realizing just how truly soft they are in comparison to the rest of him. How unlike the arrogance and greed that resides in his voice and hands respectively, there’s a hidden tenderness there. An Achilles’ heel that you’re more than happy to nurture rather than exploit.

Which is something you’re certain he notices based on the way everything changes after that. How, instead of things progressing solely for the purpose of shared satisfaction, they move with care. With newfound attentiveness in the form of slow, curious hands that coast the edges of your torso.

“You know, I never properly thanked you for saving us that day.”

Narrowing your eyes, you can’t help but smile at the sensation of his breath suddenly wafting against your neck. Or how his palms feel dragging down the fabric of your tunic only to tuck themselves against the bareness of your skin, resting just above your hips.

“Didn’t you?”

Far gentler than you anticipate, his mouth sucks the skin of your neck. His teeth applying a bit of pressure before his tongue darts out to soothe the small affliction. “Not in the way that I wanted to,” he tells you after, kissing that same spot before moving lower and repeating the process. All while digging his fingers into your hips. “Not in the way you deserve.”

There’s a moment when you go to ask him what he means. Not because you’re unaware but because you need to hear him say it. To listen to him admit that what he’s doing is nothing more than an act of gratitude so that after this is said and done you won’t be distracted anymore.

But then he proceeds to lower himself to the ground, floorboards creaking under the weight of his knees. Thumbs carefully brushing across the edges of your stomach before moving back to your belt. Looking up at you, his eyes are larger and more desperate than you’ve ever seen them before and it’s as if you're back on the shore, wondering whether or not it’s okay to dive back in.

“Can I?”

“Yes.”

It comes out like a whisper. As your lungs fail to provide the air you need to breathe, you’re left stranded. Wafting through the waves of his hands peeling away the fabric of your dirtied clothes, the only thing that’s there to stabilize you is him. His hungry mouth and broad shoulders —his calloused hands ghosting the backs of your calves as he tentatively kisses the inside of your thighs. And in order to stop the tremors he inflicts from toppling you over, you have to reach down to grab his hair.

Wrapping your fingers gently around the knot that sits on top of his head, you hear him hum in response almost instantly. The vibrations of his voice brushing against the edge of your cunt. Every subtle movement of his hands and mouth forcing your body to shift uncomfortably, trying your best to alleviate the pressure.

An alleviation that doesn’t come easy. Thanks to the teasing of his lips eventually wrapping around your clit but failing to do much else. Knowing that good things like this take time.

(And that a little bit of teasing never hurt anyone).

“Rugan, can you— oh fuck—“

His tongue circles the exact spot you need it to. Moving languidly around before darting elsewhere and repeating the process, you can feel your insides tightening. The imaginary band within you being pulled taught as he moves his fingers up to brush your folds. Every motion working together to force a moan from your lips. The kind that makes him grin against you, forcing his fingers inside just as shifts to suck your clit again.

Immediately, it’s all too much. An overload of sensitivities taking over your mind. Suddenly, you feel your hips blindly rut against his mouth while you tug at his hair. Forcing him to work that much harder. Making it hard for either of you to breathe because he refuses to stop.

Even when you can feel him desperately panting against you, he refuses to stop. Running his tongue across every exposed area —embedding the feeling of its efforts throughout every nerve— it doesn’t take long for you to come undone.

In fact, it’s hardly a minute after you’ve egged him on that he’s pushed you over the edge, remaining completely consistent in his efforts to please you. To show his appreciation in the form of a suckling mouth that continues through the endless waves of pleasure. To graciously thank you over and over until you’re later left limp against his chest after the fourth or fifth round (you’ve lost count) breathing so hard he can’t help but feel smug about it.

TAGLIST:

@oldanimefan @void-singer @gunslingerorchid @littleplasticrat @fistfuloftarenths @kirahlene @killerpancakeburger @charmedslytherin @voloslobotomyservice @cloverthebarbearian @my-favourite-zhent @imgoingtofreakoutnow

#thanks lass!#rugan x tav #rugan x female reader #rugan x reader #rugan smut #summer writes

123 notes · View notes

229zmi · 6 months

Text

MISSION: ACCOMPLISHED

PAIRING: Nagi Seishirō/Reader

CONTENT: holding hands, references to kissing but Does Not actually happen, mikage reo

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

The night of Halloween finds a group of three in your room, underneath the dim glow of your ceiling light.

In one corner, Reo hogs the space in front of your full-length mirror, almost nose-to-nose with his own reflection as he prods at the plastic fangs in his mouth, unsatisfied with how they fit across his teeth like a shoe three sizes too big. His eyebrows look as if they’ve been filled in with black marker by a child learning to colour inside the lines for the first time, and the splotchy white facepaint all across his skin isn’t making things any better.

Despite whatever intentions he may have of impressing people tonight with his DIY costume, you think he looks more unhinged than anything else. More of a jumpscare than a sight to behold, and more clown than vampire, as far as you’re concerned. You whisper your opinions to Nagi, and with a noncommittal nod, he agrees.

Speaking of Nagi, there he is: sprawled on top of your bed, stomach facing down. His head is in his arms, although once in a while, curiosity drives him to peek over his forearms and glance in your general direction, where you’re sitting cross-legged on the floor. With your posture mimicking that of a desk lamp, there’s an expression of concentration on your face that Nagi finds endearing, even though he doesn’t understand why you’re putting so much effort into vandalising a Halloween costume that’s not even yours.

Because in your eyes, simply draping a white sheet of fabric over his head could hardly be considered a costume, so you’ve taken it upon yourself to fix it up a bit with some dry erase marker, drawing in some distorted ovals for eyes and a mouth to make it look a little less… last-minute.

“I’m done,” you declare at the same time Reo does, your purple-haired friend finally turning away from the mirror for the first time in almost two hours. He looks proud of himself.

“How do I look?” Reo wiggles his eyebrows, gaze flitting between his two friends for a response. However, it’s by mere coincidence that Nagi expects you to be the one to respond on the behalf of you two just as you expect him to do the same, so you end up looking off to the side while Nagi shuts his eyes, the both of you purposefully avoiding eye contact with Reo and waiting for the other to say something.

After an agonisingly long minute of silence, you realise what’s going on and internally let out a dramatic groan.

“Reo,” you say finally, “what are you supposed to be?”

Reo frowns, pointing to his fangs. “Can’t you see? And I told you already. I’m a vampire, duh.” He holds his hands up, mimicking claws for some reason. “Rawr, or whatever.”

“Vampires don’t rawr, what the fuck is wrong with you.”

“Then what do they do? Huh? If you’re so genius.”

You grab a pillow from underneath Nagi’s arms, whose face contorts into a frown but he doesn’t say anything else when you proceed to fling it at Reo. You’re aware that him being an athlete sort of comes with quick reflexes and that he’s just allowing you the satisfaction when he lets the pillow hit his face and fall to his lap, but you’d rather believe you caught him off guard this time around.

“I don’t think vampires do that,” Reo says.

With all of your heart, you hope he somehow contracts an allergic reaction from the facepaint he’s using. And his hair falls out from the gallons of gel in it.

Turning to Nagi, you toss the costume over his head.

“What d’ya think?”

“It’s creative,” Nagi comments, with the white fabric obscuring his view. You’ve also taken the artistic liberty of cutting small eye holes into the sheet (with his permission, of course) for him to see out, but he doesn’t bother trying to readjust it, leaving the ghost’s eyes near the top of his head and the mouth somewhere by his left ear.

“Looks great. You really did a lot for his costume,” Reo adds, snickering from the far corner of the room before turning back to the mirror with a pout as he picks at the facepaint, which is now starting to flake off like dandruff. His eyebrows still don’t quite look right.

You shake your head, then scooch closer to the side of your bed. “Sei, you’re supposed to— the black eyes go, you know, where your eyes are. There’s holes so you can see.”

“So much effort just to put my Halloween costume on…” Nagi sighs, and then instead of moving the sheet of fabric around like any sane person would, he uses his arms to lift it up, stopping just above his eyebrows. A pair of ashen eyes centre on you, still sitting cross-legged on the floor as he suddenly drops his hands, letting the fabric drape over your head and shoulders. “Done. I can see now.”

Fighting back an eye roll, you tell him firmly, “No, you cannot.”

“I can see you just fine.”

“Yeah, only me.”

“I’m okay with that.”

You avert eye contact, ignoring the way your face feels tingly with his breath fanning across your skin. “You won’t be okay when you bump into a street lamp or something while trick-or-treating.”

“Hmm…” His expression twists into one of full concentration. Lazily, he grabs another pillow and manoeuvres it so that the side of his face can rest atop it, gazing down at you. “Then you can be my eyes.”

You blink, perplexed by what he means. “Huh.”

“I’ll hold onto your hand, and you can guide me so I don’t bump into or trip over anything,” Nagi suggests, nonchalant as per usual.

“That is—“ You clear your throat, swallowing thickly. You tell yourself: this is normal. Nothing special or unusual or cryptic. There are no other implications behind his words. Do not overthink. (You’re so overthinking it.) “That’s a lot more effort than if you just wear the costume right.”

“Maybe he just wants to hold your hand,” a voice speaks out loud your thoughts, though it sounds less like your subconscious and more like a certain friend— shit, you’ve forgotten that Reo is still in the room. With ears to hear your conversation and eyes to see… “I really hope you two aren’t kissing in there because that’d be real awkward. You could at least have some decency to tell me to leave.”

Upon the realisation that you and Nagi’s current situation could come off as something it’s totally not, you jump away immediately, pulling the sheet off and chucking it away from the both of you as far as you can.

“We were not doing that— shut up,” you splutter. Glowering at him, you latch onto the pillow beneath the Nagi’s head in preparation to throw it at him once again.

“Oh, so you were kissing,” Reo muses with a grin. “You’re all breathless and shit. And Nagi looks like someone just spray-painted his face pink.”

Before you can say anything, Nagi slightly lifts his head off the pillow, and you take that as your signal to hurl it at Reo’s face.

Unfortunately, with some notable prediction and athletic skills, he catches it with one hand. He flashes a smug smile, one that you think will haunt your nightmares for as long as you live, fucked up eyebrows and all.

“Get out.”

“Fine! Fine. I see how it is.” Reo throw his hands up in mock-exasperation, but the way he agrees so easily has you wondering what he’s actually planning. You don’t have to wait long, however, before he reveals it himself:

“Have fun, you two,” he bids by way of a farewell, emphasising the ‘fun’ part by making kissy noises at the air and wrapping his arms around himself to create the illusion of a passionate make-out session as he walks out. The door slams behind him, the loud before the silence that follows after.

You don’t want to look at Nagi. You’re too embarrassed to even move in his vicinity.

“Hey.” You feel a poke in the middle of your shoulder blade. “If Reo’s gone, does that mean we won’t have to go trick-or-treating?”

Considering how Reo, out of the three of you, was the one who wanted to go trick-or-treating the most, you don’t really have an opinion on the matter. Plus, you hadn’t spent that much time on your costume, and neither had Nagi, clearly. “I don’t care either way.”

“Then let’s just stay in and watch a horror movie.” With a satisfied hum, he rolls over onto his back, rummaging with one hand for your laptop that you keep stowed away in one of the drawers of your bedside table.

“It’s in the middle drawer.”

“Thanks.”

After gathering the pillows that you’d thrown at Reo off the floor and placing them back on your bed, you hop into the empty spot right beside him.

A couple minutes into the movie, Nagi speaks up.

“You can hold my hand if you’re scared, by the way.”

You freeze, turning to look at him, but by then, he’s already returned his focus to the screen. This is normal, you try to convince yourself again. He’s just silly like that, it doesn’t mean anything. Figures you find yourself focusing on him more than the actual movie.

(At some point during the movie, a cheap yet convincing enough jumpscare pops up across the screen, and subconsciously, your hand interlocks with his. Nagi’s heart almost drops to his ass, but he thinks nonetheless: mission accomplished.)

[BONUS]

Mikage Reo:

hey you

are you holding [y/n]’s hand yet

i swear if you aren’t… i went trick or treating ALL BY MYSELF just for you two

do you know how #Lame i look dressed in a vampire costume towering over all the other little kids in front of somebody’s house like. Trick or Treat! ^_^

one of the parents asked me if i was too old to be trick or treating. i cried.

and then one of the kids asked me if i was too old to be doing that too T_T

nagi seishirō:

yeah

Mikage Reo:

yeah what

yeah about holding hands or about knowing how lame i look

HELLO?????

read

#i know trick or treating isnt rlly a thing in japan but. i do Not care #this was so fun to write #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x you #nagi x y/n #blue lock x gender neutral reader #blue lock fluff #nagi fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #229ZMI

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mxdarling · 11 days

Text

[“put that down! you’ll hurt yourself with that.” / “you’re so pretty when you smile.”]

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

ೃ⁀➷: summary: idia bought a new multiplayer game, and he wants to play it with his player one, you.

ೃ⁀➷: word count: 2.3k (2334)

ೃ⁀➷: reference/Inspiration: playlist

ೃ⁀➷: event: [200 followers event]

[author's note:] JDJDKD MORE IDIA CONTENT WOOHOOO this was supposed to be his belated birthday gift from me but uhh cough cough writer block hit me like a bitch soo.. didn't finish before new years, and it's now like- 4 months late??? anyways, thank you anon for requesting idia with dialogue #3 and #7!! my last yandere idia work had him a little creepy so i made him cute this time loll i hope it's to your satisfaction anon!

[warnings:] lowercase, yandere behavior, more fluff than yandere, established relationship, reader is a gamer, cuddling, kisses, reader is ticklish, poor explanation of game mechanics, mentions of fear for judgement, reader is portrayed as a crybaby, one paragraph mentions idia being a creep, game is a rip-off of minecraft (fantasy version), toxic teammates.

[note:] If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me. i don’t condone this type of behavior, this is merely just for entertaining purposes and some sort of coping mechanism for me. if you continue to read beyond this point, ignoring my warnings, i am not responsible for your actions from here on out.

[GN reader]

IDIA SHROUD seemed to be in a good mood today, at least according to what you've seen so far. probably because his latest purchase is the cause of his being in such an upbeat mood. not that you're complaining; it was rather cute seeing him all excited and giddy when he found a new game to play. it's like a whole new, different side of him comes out whenever he starts to ramble about the features of the game and why he should absolutely play it right now. of course, as his player one, you're automatically going to be the first person he's going to play with. not that you mind, really. playing with idia was always a fun experience; it reminded you a lot of how you would spend your free time back in your world.

(those days of laziness, those days of unproductivity where you did nothing but lay down on your bed and do nothing—no school work to do, no club activities to do, no studying for an upcoming exam—just pure idleness. then when you're bored, you could just use your phone, PC, or iPad to entertain you as the day goes by, playing nonstop until late hours in the evening. god, you miss those days.)

you often wondered what genre of video games this new world had to offer. you knew that it wouldn't be so different from your own world, but you weren't sure just how many of your friends were affiliated with gaming entertainment. out of fear that judgement would be placed upon you if you shared this interest of yours, your love for video games has been hidden—so to find someone else (with that someone else being idia) that likes video games and is very well versed in them is a dream come true. it was a long process to get him to play with you, let alone consider you a friend and not try to avoid you every 2 seconds—still, it was a feat you were proud of because now you get to experience many, many different sides of idia that you would have never known 9 months ago.

(you once heard idia curse like at least twenty times in one breathe when one of his teammates was being shitty and a prick, he sounded so angry and scary that you backed into a corner to avoid getting burnt by his scorching, bright red hair that grew the more angrier he got. the only reason he stopped was when he heard quiet sobs in the corner of his room and turned around away from his computer to see you huddled in the corner of his room. quickly he went over there, completely abandoning his game and comforting you. he hates seeing his cute prefect cry, especially because of him, he's not the great at comforting but when he hugged you so tightly, your quiet sobs turned into silence. right then and there he swore to never be the reason you're crying and when you do, he'll be right there with you.)

you are currently cross-sitting in his very comfy bed, watching as idia set up two controllers and plugged in the PCs to turn them on (you're still surprised he's got more than 2 PCs, which, if you really think about it, his family background makes it make sense). after waiting for the PCs to turn on, he then connects the controllers to the PCs and opens up the game on both screens. you would insist on helping him set up, but due to you literally being isekai'd into this unknown world of twisted wonderland, you aren't too familiar with many things besides the whole magic stuff—plus, you aren't too keen on breaking any of idia's stuff because of your lack of knowledge on how to do technology.

(technology in general is so extremely confusing, you would argue wholeheartedly all day and all night, and idia would agree with you and low-key flex on how knowledgeable he is in the field of technology, just to impress you and show how reliable he is. secretly, he likes it when he's useful to you.)

"sorry! it took a while to set up..." in slightly shaking hands, he hands over the controller to you while holding the other in his free hand. he looked rather nervous when he faced you to give the controller, like he's worried he wasted your time waiting for him. it reminded you of a puppy looking up to its owner apologetically when they did something wrong, so cute, you thought, adorable even, you added.

"haha! it's okay! you didn't take that long anyway." you gave him a reassuring look, a soft smile, and bright eyes, showing him that you weren't bothered by having to wait a bit as he set up for you two to play.

both screens show the in-game loading screen, and the bar quickly fills up due to the fast internet speed (one you're quite envious of). slowly it fades to the starting screen, where a big text is bouncing 'tap to start' in both of your faces. Idia presses to start immediately, wanting to get into gameplay as fast as he can while you take a moment to admire the visual aspects and effects of the game in silent awe. you always had a thing for the visual stuff that was shown in-game. by slowly pressing the button on your control, you enter the game and begin a fantastical journey with idia.

“put that down! you’ll hurt yourself with that.” he says worriedly as he watches you damage your avatar's HP bar this early in gameplay. usually he gets really annoyed when he plays with noobs and normies; they stink at comprehending basic knowledge, do dumb things in-game, ask too many questions, and ruin the whole gameplay experience for him. 'ugh, how annoying.' is his usual reaction to such—of course he wouldn't think of that towards you! never ever would he ever think this way towards you; even if you do things noobs and normies usually do, he can't bring himself to be annoyed—you were too cute in his eyes. he would never admit this to your face, though, and he still gets red just at the thought of him thinking you are cute. It's true though; don't get him wrong, but... the embarrassment that comes with thinking about these thoughts is just too much for his poor little heart! honestly, he's for sure that one day you'll be the death of him, does he care though? not really; in fact, he would probably love that.

(he blushes so hard whenever he thinks of you in his clothes; it's the way your natural scent clings onto his shirts, the way his shirts made you even cuter than you already are—one of the only reasons he doesn't wash his clothes immediately because he wants to savor your smell to memory. he's a creep, yes, but he's one devoted creep.)

"whoops! sorry didn't see that, haha..." nervously laughing at your mistake, you eat whatever consumable you have in your inventory to try and restore as much health as you lost. as your avatar munches on the food in its hand, from the corner of your screen, you can see idia's avatar walking towards you. once it's near enough to your avatar, you can see the animation of a bunch of items being dropped and your inventory picking up due to the proximity between the items and your avatar. you opened your inventory, curious about what he just gave you since it looked like quite a lot of items, and confused about why he was giving you so many items in the first place. your eyes widen in shock as the items he's given you are one stack of steak, every weapon in-game (sword, axe, pickaxe, shovel, hoe), but in steel, and a full set of steel armor.

your mouth continues to gape open as you put on the armor set on your avatar. how did he get so much stuff this fast? it hasn't even been an hour yet! "where.. did you get so much stuff!?" you ask naively, following idia around as you don't want to get lost, die, and lose all your stuff. "stole half of those from villages, some from mining, and a few from trading" he says so casually as he continues to walk in an unknown direction, like this was a regular thing for him, not to mention this was a hard difficulty! he's playing this game like it's not easy mode! "could've gotten more if it weren't for those stingy mobs..." furrowing his eyebrows, he let out a small huff of frustration, pressing slightly harder on the buttons on his controller, not noticing how your mouth dropped down even further at his passing comment. as she presses on, walking in an unknown direction, you're hit with the hundredth reminder that he's on a whole other level than you when it comes to gaming.

three hours in, and you guys decided to play on public servers, where you'll get to play different game modes other than the usual story and survival modes. once the two of you picked a game to play, the room quickly filled with laughter, shouting, incoherent grumbling, screams of terror, and many more in between. you two decided to save a team game as last since idia wasn't enthusiastic about playing together with other players because he just wanted to play with you, and there was an underlying fear that you would encounter toxic teammates. but since you were practically begging him to just try it at least once, he couldn't help but give in to your pleas.

it was fun, he supposed. it wasn't as annoying or infuriating as he thought it would be, but he still had to keep up not making really snarky remarks when certain players were interacting with you. he'd hate to have you see such a mean, ugly, and disgusting side of him. other than that, it was an okay experience. he thinks it would've been better if it was just him and you on a team; wouldn't it be kind of romantic? you and him against everyone else?

then what he feared most would happen actually happened. suddenly some fucking jerk is screaming insults at you for not being good enough, and before that teammate got two more words in, he exploded on them. curses upon curses spit out his mouth in rapid speed, and the voices of that said teammate slowly but surely die down as their ego and pride go down with them. in the midst of anger and chaos between him and the teammate, you could feel tears building up inside you; everything around you started to blur, and the sounds that filled your ears were starting to get tuned out. you couldn't even hear that idia stopped screaming curses, turned off both PCs, and went to take the controller from your hand, lift you up into his lap, and slowly wrap his arms around you.

once he had you fully in his grasp, he tightened his grip, making sure not to let you get away from him. he wasn't good at words, especially when trying to comfort someone, but seeing you cry was making him cry too. he did, after all, swear to always be with you when you cry. raising one of his hands, he placed it at the back of your head and gently pushed towards his neck. then his hand went down to rub your back, up and down, up and down, at a slow pace. letting you cry it all out in peace while also letting you know he's there with you.

a few minutes have passed, and your sobs have gone silent. your eyes have become droopy and sleepy, and it feels almost impossible to keep them open. suddenly, a hand lifts your chin, and you feel a pair of lips come into contact with your forehead. it wasn't like a quick kiss; no, the kiss lasted for at least a few seconds before pulling away. even then, upon pulling away, you feel another kiss on your cheek, this time a little quicker than the forehead kiss. then another kiss on your other cheek, then another on your nose, another on your jawline, another on your earlobes, and finally, his lips hovered over your own lips.

you could feel the hesitation when he let out a nervous breath; the thought of your lips on his always sends him into an electrifying and drunken daze. he can't think straight when he's this close to you, but even then, it gives him an unusual feeling of contentment and confidence. the luck he has to be able to snag such an adorable, cute, amazing, and beautiful person like you in his life. he almost can't believe it. swallowing his own nervousness for your comfort, he presses against your soft lips delicately. soon after making physical contact with your lips, he feels a smile form on your face—a small smile, yet it was enough for him. any smile from you is enough for him, because seeing you happy is the best view he could ever lay his eyes on.

feeling out of breath, he's the first to let go but also the first to frown at the loss of touch. i want to stay like this forever, he thought as he watched you emit a giggle after the kiss. fire burns brightly in his heart, and he starts to wonder if you being the death of him will really come true. his cheeks burn that ever-warm red that he knows you've seen many, many times before, but he can't help it. when you pull him into a world through rose-tinted glasses, no way could he be immune to such an effect.

"i really can’t take it when you cry like that… smile for me, alright? you’re so pretty when you smile."

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

PLEASE DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO OTHER SITES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION + REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

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venus-haze · 11 months

Text

I’ll Keep a Light in My Window (Starlight x Reader)

Summary: After her Believe Expo speech, it feels like everyone’s eyes are on Annie. Among the messages flooding her Instagram DMs is an encouraging one from you, an old friend from her Capes for Christ days. The two of you reconnect, and Annie finds more than friendship with you this time around.

Note: Woman reader, but no other descriptors are used. This is my first Starlight fic! I hope I did her justice since this is mostly from her perspective. Inspired by the song from The Get Down because it’s so Annie. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: This is pretty much fluff with some angst, related to canon events and mentions of homophobia in the context of American Christianity. Obviously playing with the plot of S1 for this fic. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Despite the crowd’s chaos in response to her speech, Annie felt her smile falter when she got backstage and was met with varying degrees of rage and disgust. Her own mother looked like she’d spent the past five minutes sucking on sour candy.

‘Hello!’ Annie wanted to shout. ‘Did you see what I did out there? Aren’t you gonna congratulate me?’

Hughie had disappeared after meeting Ezekiel. She tried to pretend that him not even saying goodbye didn’t bother her. If she could get up on stage and bare her soul to thousands of people in person and millions at home, at the very least she could admit to herself that she was hurt.

The drive back to the tower was tense. Everyone seemed to avoid making eye contact with her. As if she’d done something wrong. The longer she sat with what she said and did, the more she was convinced she made the right choice. Between what The Deep had done to her and how she was treated after saving a girl from suffering the same fate, they were just mad she called them on her complacency.

As soon as she made it back to her suite, she pulled out her phone to find her Instagram had blown up even more than when she first joined The Seven. Her phone nearly crashed from the amount of notifications she had. Thousands of comments and messages, either rants or support. She scrolled through her clogged DMs, her stomach churning at the glimpses of abuse that piled on from irate strangers. One DM caught her attention, addressing her by her real name rather than Starlight.

Hesitantly, she tapped the message to see the full contents.

‘Holy shit Annie!! You’re so badass🤩 Our Capes for Christ counselors must be shitting themselves right now lmao way to go!’

There were a lot of people from her Capes for Christ days, a constant rotation of hopeful young superheroes ready to use their powers for the glory of the Lord. Looking back, it was just a self-righteous vanity project for their parents and whatever religious sycophants hovered around. She tapped your photo, bringing her to your profile. Your brief bio gave your first name and that you were living in the city, but your supe name was nowhere to be found.

She tapped your most recent photo. In a brightly lit hospital hallway, you posed in black scrubs with a handful of balloons. You’d posted it just a week earlier, the caption celebrating working as a nurse for three years. Most of the comments were congratulating you, but one comment finally jogged her memory.

‘might be thinking of someone else but were you red heart?’ someone commented.

You replied with, ‘Yeah I was a million years ago! Lamest name ever😂😂’

Right. Red Heart. Healing powers. Red Cross spokesgirl. White top with a red skirt and sparkly red shoes that reminded her of the Wizard of Oz. You were on the Capes for Christ circuit with her. At one point she considered you a close friend, close enough to invite you to the roller skating party she begged her mom for when she was ten, only allowed to invite three girls because that’s all they could afford. Memories of skating to Britney Spears songs and balancing a paper plate with room temperature pizza on her lap came back to her. You’d bought her one of the special edition birthday Barbies. Her mom never let her take it out of the box, claiming it’d be worth a lot of money some day. It was probably still collecting dust in their attic.

She could remember you going off to college after high school, dropping your superhero identity not long after. With healing powers, it made sense you’d go into nursing. Her mom had expressed a judgemental disbelief at your decision. Annie wished she at least had a choice like you.

She scrolled through more of your photos. You seemed to be doing well since you got out. Got out. Like it was a cult. Maybe in a way, it was.

Annie hit the follow button on your profile and messaged you back.

‘Thanks Y/N! I made a lot of people mad, but I’m glad I did it 😊’ she hesitated a moment before typing, ‘We should catch up sometime! You're still in New York right? I’m pretty new to the city.’

Before she could get too in her own head about whether asking you to hang out was weird when the two of you hadn’t spoken in years, you responded with the names of a few coffee shops on the Upper East Side and that you were off work the following day.

Her mood had tanked before meeting up with you, getting chewed out by Stilwell and feeling some guilt for Ashley losing her job. She had to remind herself it wasn’t her fault. If they hadn’t enabled a sex pest for years, she wouldn’t have had to make her speech.

Following the directions on her phone and getting a bit turned around in the subway, she walked up to the coffee shop a few minutes after eleven, when the two of you had agreed to meet. She rushed inside when she noticed you were already sitting at a table with your drink.

Annie sat down across from you with her coffee, playing with the cup sleeve. “I’m so glad you had time to hang out. I still don’t really know anyone here, and it’s nice to see a familiar face.”

“Yeah! I'm not really in touch with a lot of people from back then, but I can totally introduce you to my friends. It’s an adjustment, but the city has a lot to offer if you know where to look.”

“Way more to do than Des Moines at least.”

“I can’t believe I nearly forgot,” you said, lowering your voice to an excited whisper, “congrats on getting into The Seven! Out of everyone in our weird ass group growing up, I always had a feeling it was gonna be you.”

“Thanks.” She gave you a strained smile. “It’s not exactly what I expected, but I’m making the best of it.”

“Sometimes that’s the most you can do,” you said.

“How about you? What part of the hospital do you work in?”

“With my powers, they have me all over the place, but it’s good. I can see I’m really making a difference.”

“That’s what I want. Sometimes I feel like they just parade me around to look nice, but they won’t let me do anything,” she said. “Like that stupid new costume. It’s like they make me wear it just to humiliate me for helping that girl because I didn’t do it their way. I feel like a joke.”

“Not after the Believe Expo. Anyone would be an idiot not to take you seriously now,” you said. “I mean, you said what so many people were thinking but were too afraid to say. It’s bullshit they’re treating you like this.”

“No, it’s—I’ll deal. We’re supposed to be catching up, and I’m like dumping all my problems on you. How have you been? Are you seeing anyone?” she asked.

She wasn’t sure how she’d answer the question if you’d been the one to ask. Hughie could be so hot and cold, like he was hiding something.

You were silent for a few moments before answering. “Not really. My girlfriend and I broke up a few weeks ago.”

“That’s great! I mean—not great that you broke up, I’m so sorry,” Annie said frantically. “Just you being—dating women. I’m happy for you.”

“That means a lot, Annie. I kind of parted ways with Vought because of it. I mean, they have this progressive face, but then they let Ezekiel spout his bullshit and put their name on that too?” you ranted. “That’s just me. It’s pretty much impossible to have a career as a supe without Vought, so I don’t judge.”

“Do you think I’m crazy for trying to change things from the inside?”

“It can’t hurt to try. Then at least you know you did what you could.”

She smiled. At least she could vent to someone who understood and actually gave a damn. Hughie was nice, but he didn’t quite get it. There was always some kind of disconnect. Maeve wasn’t nearly the mentor she was hoping for. She got it a little better now. Maeve had been in The Seven for years, Annie could only imagine how much it’d wear her down.

On her way back from getting coffee, Annie stopped in front of a bookstore with a huge Vought display in the window. Her comics were front and center, a cardboard cut-out of her next to one of Homelander. The Deep’s comics were barely visible with clearance stickers slapped on the covers. Serves him right. She couldn’t believe he’d been her favorite at one point.

Sleepovers with the other Capes for Christ girls almost always led to a “who’s your favorite member of The Seven” discussion. The answers were always a lot of Homelander, some Lamplighter or Marathon Man, but you always answered Queen Maeve. Back then, she thought it was because you admired her strength, her trailblazing as the first woman in The Seven. Maybe it wasn’t that simple.

“That’s her! I swear to god it is!” Annie overheard someone whisper-yell.

“Who?”

“Starlight, over there!”

Annie kept her head down, speed-walking up the street. She ducked into the nearest subway, getting on the first train that stopped even though it was going further uptown. Pulling her hoodie up to obscure her face, she sighed. She had everything she ever dreamed of, but it seemed more and more like it was turning into a nightmare.

The following weeks were busy between her obligations with The Seven and helping Hughie with whatever cryptic stuff he was up to. She still found time to see you. Hanging out with you was the only thing that made her feel normal anymore. You were so confident in who you were, she felt comfortable finding out who she was outside of Starlight. With you, she could just be Annie.

All of a sudden her association with Hughie had Homelander nearly turning on her. Maeve took up for her in nothing less than a Hail Mary moment. Then, to make matters worse, her entire world came crashing down when she agreed to meet up with Hughie despite his fugitive status. She wasn’t born with her powers, no supe was. Instead her mom signed her life away to Vought and allowed them to basically experiment on her. The cherry on top of the melting ice cream sundae that’d become her life was definitely getting shot immediately after finding out the news.

When she came to in the hospital, she saw you in your scrubs, slouched in the chair next to her bed. She reached out, taking your hand in hers.

“Y/N?” she croaked out.

“Annie!” you exclaimed, jumping up from the chair. “Holy shit, how are you feeling? I did what I could when you got here. You heal fast, so you should be—“

“It’s all a lie! Our whole lives, Y/N! They fucking lied about everything!” she raged, her vision blurred by tears. “At least you got out. I feel so stupid.”

“Hey, don’t call my best friend stupid.”

She laughed weakly, sniffling a bit. “Thanks Y/N, for everything. All this time I was thinking I was doing what I wanted, but it was what everyone else wanted for me. It always has been.”

“Then start living for you, whatever that looks like. It’s never too late,” you said.

Her hand still intertwined with yours, she pulled you closer to her, your faces inches apart. Taking in your features, she admired how pretty you were. She’d always thought so, but didn’t know how to place it before. Since you’d reconnected, however, it was different. Butterflies in her stomach when you'd smile at her. Texts from you brightening her day. Hanging out with you being the highlight of her week. She didn’t have to try when it came to you.

“I think I’ll start now,” she whispered.

In a moment of nerve-wracking bravery, Annie pressed her lips to yours. Relief swept over her when you kissed her back, smiling against her lips. Whatever happened next, she knew she could get through it with you by her side.

#annie january x reader #starlight x reader #the boys x reader #annie january #starlight #the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon

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porcobrainr0t · 1 year

Text

all too well

PAIRING cristiano ronaldo x fem!reader

GENRE angst; reader is a little delulu

CONTENT WARNING swearing, toxic relationships, cristiano more like crizztiano, reader talks to herself a lot, reader has hair you can put in a ponytail, readers race is not relevant nor involved

AUTHORS NOTE the first paragraph is doubled and i apologize, I’ve tried everything but its super late so i cbb

It wasn’t rare; moments like this. Sitting in your small apartment, alone with your thoughts as a lifeless phone lay on the coffee table to your left. He’s busy, is what you convinced yourself. He can’t always make time for me. You gave him time.

Yet, time went on, and still no response. The candle lit near the television was being drowned in it’s melting wax, a candle lit not long after you sent the message. You let your eyes shut.

When you awoke, the sun had yet to rise. It was roughly four am, your throat was dry and your eyes watered. An unfamiliar blanket was wrapped around your frame and a sloppy, lazy note was left on the coffee table. The candle was blown out. Giving your eyes time to adjust to the lighting, you tried to make out an outline of what the piss-poor handwriting had intended.

‘Sorry I missed tonight, sweetheart. Reschedule tomorrow?’ A sigh left your lips. It’s the third raincheck for this very date— Was all this even worth it? Was truly the only thought you could think. It was getting exhausting, and you considered yourself a patient person.

That was until the next Sunday. Which followed a Monday where he had to fly out to God knows where for God knows what. That Sunday evening, two of you sat in uncomfortable silence in an overpriced restaurant while your pasta grew cold. Cristiano pokes at his own meal, avoiding eye contact. It was a very awkward dinner; the waitress evidently being solely interested in making sure Cristiano was pleased, and the man only played along. Entertaining her as she bites and licks her lips while he talks, chewing her gum slower and extending her lips with every tense of her jaw.

If you wanted shit like this, you guys would have went to Hooters— or in other words a god damn strip club. At some point, when you placed your hand on top of Cristiano’s, his immediately flocked away while he continued the conversation. But what really threw you off was when he starts, “Hm.”-ing and “Mm.”-ing gruffly for every little thing, the lack of eye contact making you go quiet. Your barely touched pasta lay before you, and you scoff.

Getting up, you blink grimly at his confused expression and make your way to the door, removing your heels once you make it outside. Alright, you settle, so I’m walking. The overwhelming scent of everything invades your nostrils and it makes you nauseous. It isn’t long on your voyage before you hear footsteps approaching you from behind, and a hand sliding across your waist to embrace you.

“What was that?” He queries, and you scoff once more. Does this man really not have an ounce of respect for you? It feels more like a rhetorical question, and you push his invading hand away by force, yet he places it once more.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Tell me what’s wrong first.”

You stop dead in your tracks, and he follows. He’s unbelievable. “You’re what’s fucking wrong, Cristiano. Do you ever hear yourself? I mean, seriously, you take me out after no-show’s three times in a row, you ogle the waitress the whole time we’re there and you don’t even acknowledge me— then you come out here and ask me what’s wrong? You make me feel fucking stupid!”

He stares at his feet. “I didn’t know that was how you felt,”

“Why would you? You only ever care about yourself. I can’t stand it. Leave me alone, Cristiano. I mean it.” Your feet are on fire, the cement digging into your soles. You’d rather endure this feet pain than stay with him any longer.

“Can you— can you at least, let me take you home? Please? I can’t leave you out here…” He inquired, although you were quick to shut it down. But Cristiano was faster. “You live miles out from here, sweetheart. Let me take you home, and I’m out of your hair.”

You sighed and accepted the invitation. It was another awkward ride. The radio wasn’t lively, a slow song from his native language played softly in the background. Throughout the ride, Cristiano had managed to get his rough left hand to rest on your thigh and caress it apologetically. The sensation made you think. Do I really want him gone forever?

Cristiano must have been thinking the same thing, because once the car was in park, his seatbelt was off and he was rushing to get your door open.

“I want to make sure you get in safe,” was his excuse, and you hummed. Arguing wasn’t on your to-do list at the moment. When the two of you reached your door, you fumbled with the keys to get the door unlocked, pushing it open after the latch clicked.

“I’m here. And ‘m safe. So you can leave now. Goodbye.” You excused him, although Cristiano had other plans. His hand found its way behind your hair, his thumb under your earlobe. It was hard to say goodbye, when his eyes held such passion, he had you practically melting in his hand.

Cristiano leaned in, until his lips met yours and you two were in the doorway. The kiss was broken when he had both of you in the apartment with the door shut. “I’m really sorry,” he kissed your knuckles, and began leaving a trail of them all over. “Really sorry.”

He led you to your bedroom, and sat you at the foot of the bed. On his knees, he kissed your ankle, and once more led a trail going up from there. Cristiano’s tenderness made your insides turn inverted, and your face felt like it was on fire. He kissed your cheek, then the corner of your lips before fetching some comfortable clothes for you to change in. He didn’t let you change yourself, only ever instructing you to put your hands up or jump. After treating you with such care, Cristiano pulled a scrunchie from your nightstand and put your hair in a comfortable ponytail, knowing you can’t sleep with it in your face.

Cristiano puts you under the covers with a peck to your forehead, soon changing into a pair of sweatpants he owned that was left at your home. It isn’t long before he’s in bed with you, grasping you in his arms and putting you to sleep. Mumbling a small, coherent thank you, he hums in response.

When you wake, Cristiano is not to be seen. This feeling is all to familiar. You know it all too well.

#football x reader #cristiano ronaldo x reader #cristiano ronaldo x you #angst #now i have writers block #goodnight #my work

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gabessquishytum · 9 months

Note

This morning I woke up thinking horny Dreaming thoughts and for a second I was so bummed out that I couldn’t tell anyone. But then I remembered I can tell you and I just really want to thank you for your inbox and for all of your enthusiastic responses. I’ve been doubting lately if I want to stay in fandom spaces but you really make it fun and worthwhile and plain lovely, and I’m really grateful for you.

Anyway: horny thoughts.

I come from a region where religious affiliation was systematically discouraged two generations ago, so we’re all pretty much atheist and only go to church — if at all — for Christmas, so I was rather surprised that there is such a thing as premarital counseling aka. Telling young couples what to do/expect in bed after the wedding. Which is. Such a strange concept to me? Whatever happened to comprehensive sex ed? Do parents actually believe their teenagers are not experimenting and figuring themselves out?

Never mind my confusion, but I was thinking older marriage counselor!Dream and soon-to-be-wed!Hob. And why not make it a/o/b?

Hob is young, a fresh-faced, barely 18 Omega. He isn’t conventionally attractive but handsome in a way Betas and maybe even Alphas would be: broad shoulders, tall. By the time he’s 16 it was clear he will never have problems growing a full beard (unlike most Omegas), his chest, arms and legs are full of coarse hair-

Hob’s okay with it. After he’s lost his parents and was sent to the orphanage he figured he wouldn’t be of much interest for anyone really. He spent his time in the library and helping the nuns to take care of the little ones. He’s really good with kids and smart, so he aims to be a kindergartner or maybe even a teacher, if he gets the chance to study.

Considering how odd he is, he’s never had much to do with other kids his age. The alphas were intimidated by how large his is, larger than they are sometimes. Some Omegas and Betas avoided him for the same reason, while others were just put off by how strange he is. It saddens him a bit, but as long as he’s got the kids to take care of and hang out with, it’s fine. He’ll just live out his extroverted tendencies by playing with them for hours. He didn’t make the same experiences as others — there was one kiss with another Omega when he was 15. Hob liked it but the other Omega was so terrified that Hob decided this just isn’t worth it — but he’s content with his life.

Two weeks shy of his 18th birthday, the nuns ask him for a meeting. Hob knows that this is about his future and he plans to present them with his plans going forward: Either keep helping around the orphanage while he gets a few hours off each day to work on his schooling or find a part time job tutoring or as a nanny to do the same. He knows that they can’t keep him around forever, but they’ve always been good to him and he hopes they’ll let him stay a bit longer.

He is very surprised when they tell him, they found an Alpha who wants to marry him.

Hob protests. He doesn’t want to marry, he wants to be a teacher! That’s what he’s worked for ever since his parents died and none but the kids at the orphanage showed him any affection. He doesn’t want to sit at home all day, waiting for his Alpha to come home and knock him up (though he would love to have children of his own. that’s not the point). He doesn’t want to be an object, locked into a solitary building yet again!

The nuns assure him they’re written to the Alpha who is amenable to Hob getting his degree and working in childcare, as long as it’s not hindering him from performing his marital duties. Which to Hob doesn’t sound like a completely horrible deal? He can sleep in the same bed as some Alpha every night, that’s okay. After all, that’s all it is, right?

He agrees, reluctantly. The nuns send him to marriage counselling and Hob goes. He’s not sure what he needs it for because he knows how kissing works (mouth A on mouth B) and that sleeping next to your spouse will eventually lead to children.

Enter marriage counsellor!Dream, who has not done this before and has no idea why he agreed to this. His last marriage ended in tragedy so he’s clearly not the right person to prepare anyone for that kind of commitment but his siblings talked him into it. Something along the lines of how being around younger people in love would help him and make him less jaded.

Hob is immediately fascinated. The Alpha is so, so different from what he expected. He’s slender and tall, which is only accentuated by the suit he wears. He’s twice Hob’s age if he had to guess, judging by the grey in his hair. He’s stunningly beautiful and Hob is immediately enamoured. What a pity this guy isn’t the one he’s marrying because he sure wouldn’t mind lying in bed next to him, especially considering how delicious he smells and how Hob's body feels all tingly as soon as he steps inside the room.

Dream is equally as ass over teakettle for the sweet, naïve Omega that stumbled into his office. They talk a little about Dream’s actual day job, Hob’s aspirations for the future, etc. to get comfortable with each other before Dream starts poking at Hob’s experience only to realise that he has none. Zero. Zilch. He gently inquires what Hob does when he gets aroused and hard to which Hob answers that he waits for it to go away.

Dream is speechless. This beautiful, smart, kind Omega is so inexperienced, it would be a crime to let him get married like this. I mean that’s just setting him up for unhappiness! Dream knows other Omegas his age — the same age Hob’s prospective husband seems to be — and they won’t take care of him the way they should.

So Dream decides he has to do something about it. He starts slow, inviting Hob back for another evening to continue the counseling but gives him homework: The next time, Hob feels aroused and his prick is hard (in private), Dream wants him to wrap his hand around it and stroke it until he cums. Hob doesn’t know what that means, but Dream promises him that he’ll know when it happens.

Thing is tho: Hob doesn’t know what Dream meant. He tried but stopped at the first sign or pre on his tip. So next time they meet, Hob complains that he couldn’t sleep after because he was so keyed up!

Dream, his head a bit hazy given the image of Hob on his bed, his hand wrapped around his small Omega prick, that he goes ahead and asks Hob to demonstrate what he did. And Hob — blushing from both shyness and arousal — strips out of his trousers and pants, sits down on the leather armchair in the meeting area of Dream’s office and starts masturbating.

It’s painfully clear that he doesn’t know what he’s doing so Dream starts to coach him through it. He tells him that his grip needs to be tighter, that he needs to stroke faster, that he can’t stop now-

Dream nearly cums in his pants watching Hob. His eagerness is incredibly beautiful, the flush on his cheeks so, so stunning. He’s never seen anything as mesmerising as Hob looking down at his prick in surprise, his smell permeating Dream’s office and the wetness from his cunt soaking into the expensive leather upholstery.

Dream sends him to the bathroom to clean up, answers a few questions before he sends him home with more homework. Then Dream rushes to the bathroom himself, cumming within seconds because what he just witnessed- most erotic sight ever.

Two days later they have their next counseling session and Hob immediately blurts out that his wrist hurt too much so he couldn’t do the assignment Dream had given him, but he still wants to try. Aren’t there any other ways to finger his cunt? And Dream, who has been thinking about nothing but Hob for the past two days, proposes that he could just do it for Hob. So Hob strips down and takes a seat on Dream’s lap, already wet with slick and smelling ever so delicious.

Dream makes Hob cum twice on his fingers before he orders him to recline in the armchair and eats him out. Hob can barely walk afterwards and curls up on the couch, his head resting on Dream’s thigh. Maybe this whole marriage thing isn’t as bad as he thought it was? But what about the Alpha? Surely he has still so much to learn from Dream.

Next time they meet, Dream teaches him to kiss, while Hob sits on his lap. Hob's rubbing against his thigh until he's a shuddering mess and Dream gives him the quickest blowjob he's ever given.

This goes on and on and on and progresses steadily. They meet with take-out dinner and talk, they have their "lessons". The first time Hob cums on Dreams cock, Hob cries with how good it feels. He's an incoherent mess when Dream's knot inflates. There’s about two months left until the wedding and Dream vows he’ll make sure to teach Hob everything he knows about how to be pleased and how to please his Alpha.

And if they fall in love along the way and elope before Hob can marry some stranger, well at least Dream’s not jaded anymore and Hob is suddenly much more enthusiastic about marital obligations.

Love, 💄

I'm having a kinda terrible bad no good day today, so it's perfect that this has come to the top of the pile for the posting! First of all I want to say: thank you for letting me be the outlet for your thoughts and ideas! It's really a pleasure for me to know that my blog feels like a safe space. I hope you'll stick around for a very long time!!

I'm always grateful when you guys occasionally drop an absolute banger like this in my inbox. It's a real gift on a day like today when my head is empty. Anyway. I am. Deeply obsessed with this whole scenario. The whole setup with "marriage counselling", Dream being peer pressured into doing it even though his marriage was a trashcan on fire... excellent, I love it. And Hob!!! Darling, clever, innocent Hob!!!!! I would take a bullet for him in this au. I need him to have a happy life!!! I need him to be able to get his qualifications!!!! Most of all I need him to be railed by Dream 24/7.

I gotta know... has Dream taught Hob about birth control? Is there such a thing in this universe? Because if Hob is getting knotted several times each week for two months, I feel like there may be a whole other reason for them to elope together...... although I do kinda love the idea of Hob showing up to his wedding with his intended alpha, guiltily hiding his tiny bump behind a bouquet of flowers because Dream got him pregnant, oopsie.

Anyway, I love anything with omega Hob and this is no exception!!!! Thank you so so much for sharing it with me!!!!!!

#💄 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw omegaverse #cw mpreg

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clotpolesonly · 1 year

Note

your fic ideas are hella cool so dropping in another 📔 if you wish!

(another content warning, for abuse & gaslighting this time)

AU where instead of letting him go to suffer in his grief and guilt, Kate keeps Derek after the fire. she doesn't take credit for what she did, instead bluffing her way through convincing Derek that someone else was responsible for it. she offers him refuge. she can protect him. because she loves him.

desperate for comfort in the wake of all that he's lost (he assumes, and Kate reinforces the idea, that everyone else is dead), with the alternative too horrifying for him to even consider much less accept, Derek latches onto her and goes with her willingly because he's got nothing and no one else left.

it's a perfect foundation for the kind of emotional abuse that keeps someone feeling indebted no matter what their abuser puts them through. he'll do anything she wants him to, because doesn't he remember what she did for him? what she's still doing for him? keeping him safe. he knows what her family does, he doesn't he understand how much of a risk it is for her to harbor him from them? he can't possibly disobey complain when she's risking everything for him.

bonus points if he's desperate enough, and Kate a forceful enough personality, that Derek can latch onto her like an alpha to avoid omega status, in lieu of having a pack. we see atypical pack bonds in the show, Scott forming a "pack" with Stiles and Allison that was solid enough to avoid omega status and help him resist the sway of a real alpha, so i'm inclined to think it's possible. Derek, young and vulnerable, alone and grieving and terrified, submitting to the will of someone older, trusted, and powerful enough to make him feel safe.

little does Derek know, Laura and Cora both escaped the fire (and Peter, comatose still). he thinks they're dead, because that's what Kate told him, and he trusts Kate (because she's all he has).

he doesn't know they're alive, but they also don't know that he's alive. Laura and Cora fled town together after the fire, the way Laura and Derek did canonically. and they're drawn back the same way -- Peter's slowly returning consciousness, the mystery of the fire, etc etc. in this AU, it's Mrs Finch (the teacher at the high school from season 6 who's apparently been an alpha werewolf in hiding the entire time) that Peter killed so that he could start biting random teenagers in the woods. that's definitely something that Laura needs to look into and take care of.

it's also something the hunters are looking into, of course. Chris calls Kate for backup and, not having any more context than "rogue alpha", she comes. and she brings her boyfriend with her. whatever identity she's set up for him, it's well established by now, and Derek is (horror of horrors) one of her hunters. she's convinced him to fight the "bad" werewolves. it's not like werewolves didn't police their own sometimes anyway, if they deserved it, for the sake of staying secret and protecting innocents. it didn't take too much manipulating prodding to convince him to use his superior senses to aid her cause.

Derek is the one who finds the alpha. he has him in his sights.

only Laura has found him too.

and that's the first they see of each other.

Derek runs before there can be any kind of connection. he goes back to Kate and tells her what he saw. she, of course, gaslights the fuck out of him. he didn't actually see his sister. he couldn't have. they're all dead, remember? she saw the bodies herself, doesn't he trust her?

Kate, blindsided -- she knew Laura and Cora were alive, but she didn't expect them to be here, threatening her long con and her control on her favorite tool/toy -- runs back to Chris (completely in the dark on her machinations) for damage control. tries to turn him onto taking the other Hales out of the picture as quickly as possible without alerting him as to why.

code-loving Chris resists; as far as they know, those Hales haven't done anything wrong. they haven't broken the code, one of them is just 16, and it seems like they're all working toward the same end in taking down the rogue alpha. maybe they should just let them be for now, keep an eye on them, monitor the situation, etc. Kate, not happy about this, but unable to leave to handle things on her own without raising eyebrows.

meanwhile, Cora being the one to connect with Scott and Stiles. much less likely to stand out while sneaking around a high school she doesn't attend, lmao. Laura is busy with the alpha investigation (and with the whole "holy SHIT was that Derek?? that really looked like it might've been Derek, wtf wtf wtf" thing), so she does most of the handling with the boys.

Scott isn't nearly as resistant to her (or Laura) as he was to Derek, who was far more overbearing and uncommunicative, lol. Laura wants him to focus on getting himself and his shift under control, adjust to his new powers, just stay out of the way for now. she tells Cora that too, but Cora says FUCK THAT, Derek might be alive and you want me to stay out of it??? she may not have spent 7 years completely alone and fending for herself in this AU, but she's still headstrong and proactive. she wants to get shit done.

so she, Scott, and Stiles end up on their own little sub-mission. and they bring Allison into the fold because they don't have an Argent-traumatized Derek projecting all over them and insisting they can't trust her. they know Argents as a whole are bad, but they also know that Allison doesn't seem to have any clue what the rest of her family is doing. she's a total normie. Cora's much more likely to look at her and go "wow, you're so in the dark. maybe if we DON'T lie to you, we can get you one our side and you'll be an advantage!"

she starts explaining things to Allison and makes some mention of her brother and Allison's like "wait, Derek? that's Kate's boyfriend, they've been together for years, he's staying in our guest room" and Cora's like UM??

Stiles: "well, fuck, let's break in and rescue him right now!" Allison: "you know i have a key, right? it's my house" Scott: "idk if that's a good idea" Cora: "Laura would be so mad......let's do it"

meanwhile, Laura, more on the cautious side of things. she's desperate to get Derek back, if that actually was him, but she isn't sure it was and she can't take huge risks if it puts the sibling she does have in danger. keeping Cora safe has been her number one priority for the last 6 years, she isn't willing to jeopardize that just yet.

doesn't mean she can't take small risks. if Chris Argent gets all up in her face to menacingly wash the windows of her car, she may take a chance on a question or two.

Laura: "Kate's boyfriend -- Derek, isn't it? i had a little brother by that name. would be about that age by now, if he was alive." Chris: "what are you insinuating?" Laura: "nothing. just a funny coincidence, don't you think?"

she doesn't get an answer, but it plants a little seed of doubt in Chris, right as Kate's control over Derek is starting to fray a little bit. Cora & co get into the guest room where they're staying, intending to rescue him, but they miscalculate and no one's in there (which is probably good, cuz that would've gone badly for them). Cora gets frustrated and upset because there are scents here but she doesn't really recognize them enough to verify if it's her brother or not -- it's been a long time, and she was too young to remember properly.

but Derek wasn't too young. and when he gets back to the room, he and can smell her.

Kate insists he's wrong, he's not smelling anything more than perfume or air freshener, what is he smelling ghosts now? he starts to feel like either he's going crazy or maybe, maybe..... Kate is lying to him.

he's still fighting that realization, but the next time he gets sent out on his own after the alpha, Laura finds him. neither of them runs this time. Laura tries to get Derek to come with her, but Derek has been with Kate a long time and he doesn't know how to do or be anything else anymore. they argue. Derek insists that Kate has been good to him, that she saved him, that she loves him.

Laura: "Derek, she told you we were dead! do i look dead to you?"

over the course of this argument, Derek mentions smelling Cora in his room and Laura's like "you did what?? GODDAMN IT, CORA"

that's how Laura finds out they've let Allison in on the secret and she is furious. she may not have the very personal grudge and trust issues that canon!Derek had with them, but she's still got a very healthy aversion to hunters. she yells at Cora about how reckless and stupid it was to tell this girl anything. Scott steps in to defend her -- it was his idea, if she's gonna be mad at anyone then be mad at him. Stiles argues that it was a tactical advantage to have an inside man, so to speak.

Laura gets that, she does, but she just.....she wants everybody to be safe. she can't protect her loved ones (the ones she has left) if they won't do what she tells them to do. she's by far the more traumatized of the two of them. she went from normal teenager to The Alpha, the one with too much responsibility on her shoulders to be allowed to grieve and process properly. she sheltered Cora, still an actual kid, enough to let her fall apart and then put her back together again, but Laura never got to do that herself. she couldn't afford to break down when she had a child to keep safe and provide for.

but now Cora's old enough to take of herself, old enough to push for what she thinks is right, and Laura is still clinging to that Must Protect instinct because it's the only thing that's been keeping her going for the last 6 years. to be faced with evidence that she failed as an alpha, and as a big sister? that she let Derek get taken in and twisted up by hunters and she didn't even know? devastating.

it takes them all to talk her down. because honestly, she is being paranoid and irrational and stubborn, and that's not actually helping. it's not helping her, it's not helping Cora, and most of all, it's not helping Derek. if they want to get their brother back, they'll need all the help they can get, and Allison, Argent or not, has already proven that she can and wants to be that help.

in the end, they decide they need Chris as an ally too, if they really want to get somewhere, and they can use Allison to make that happen bit by bit. they get her to start hinting at things, asking leading questions about Derek, like if Chris knows where he's from or what he studied in school or how old he is. casual normal things that Chris realizes he doesn't have answers for, because Kate always answers for Derek when people talk to him and she's always vague.

not to mention, Kate is acting cagey lately. pushing so hard to kill Laura with no code violation. he's got Laura's voice in his ear now. i had a brother by that name. he would be about that age too, if he was alive.

aaaaand okay so i never got to the end of this idea, so you gotta imagine the rest of it yourself 😅 but you know at some point, either Laura tears Kate's throat out to rescue Derek, or Derek truly comes to understand just how deeply he's been victimized and does it himself. either way, i'm cheering them on.

send me a book emoji for the plot of a fic that i haven't written but daydream about!!

#and the answer is #Anonymous #Derek Hale #Laura Hale #Kate Argent #Cora Hale #Allison Argent #Scott McCall #Stiles Stilinski #Chris Argent #Teen Wolf #fics by me

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6kuros · 1 year

Note

As a fellow creator who is also disturbed and upset by the revelation of pizza tower being a product of 4chan type people, I'm wondering how you handle it? I still want to draw fan art but Im struggling to not get uncomfortable. Basically, I have both love and hate for the game now, and you seem like a cool person so Im wondering how you deal with that. Love your pizza tower fan art sm btw!

im really glad that you enjoy my art, and also am flattered you think im cool!!!

first of all, id like to mention that the art i posted just now was art that i had finished last night, before everything about mcpig came to light and i just wanted to post it since i already had it done…still unsure if im going to draw consistent pizza tower in the future honestly, id like to because its a lot of fun and i really do love a lot about the game. ideally, the current situation would change somehow so i can do that without any discomfort for myself or others, but the only way i foresee that happening is if the devs actually remove the racist shit from the game

what makes me feel (kind of) okay about producing fanart for the game despite what emerged is mostly the fact that as long as i am not reproducing the harmful contents of the game, nor directly supporting the people behind it, im not putting any harm into the world or perpetuating the 4chan stuff i guess? the only thing im really worried about is possibly getting people to want to buy the game by putting my fanart out there, but considering the games popularity from streaming and youtube videos i dont see my own art as contributing to that much. that makes it easier for me not to feel unsettled when i draw fanart for it, but i think that depends on how you view the relationship between fanart and source material, especially in an interactive space like the internet. if you think your art risks sending the message that you approve of negative aspects of a piece of media then its probably better not to share that art

theres also the fact that from the messages that were revealed i get the impression that at some point mcpig had a sort of disdain for "cringe leftists" being fans of the game i guess, and i would consider myself someone who he would/would have found cringe at one point lol. so by being into the game its kind of a fuck you idc that you hate me, this thing you made is being enjoyed by cringe leftists. considering the tone of some of the messages was "if people get mad at me im just going to be edgy in response" i dont even think disengaging with the game would even bother him at all. but all of that is really just speculation and i dont want to insinuate that engaging with bigoted media is proactive just because you are a marginalized person or have progressive politics. its important to actually weigh the harm of your actions and what effect you have with your consumption of said media i dont really know if thats a good answer though, and if it holds up to any sort of moral judgement. i do think its possible to enjoy problematic media, but considering how new the game is its not the kind of thing i can look at and be like "this piece of media is from x years ago and doesnt do real harm now". my worst fear is that there are pizza tower fans who are going to see the awful shit in the game and replicate it, bc the game somehow makes them thinks theres nothing wrong with it or that they can do so without consequence. just from a scope of the fandom there seem to be a lot of young teenagers so Yeah. im concerned in that regard and id like to beam a message into kids' brains thats just like Hey this character design/behavior fucking sucks Dont do this

so, by posting my art anyway i hope i can contribute to a portion of the fanbase that is outwardly against the bigoted content in the game, as an alternative to mcpig dick riders/defenders. and if there are any fans out there involved in the community who dont know better, hopefully they can learn, and avoid perpetuating bigotry

all that being said, your feelings on the matter may be very different, and you dont have to abide to any of this thinking. if a piece of media is upsetting you, its okay to step away from it as long as you need. maybe see how you feel when you come back to it and if the hateful feelings are still there, there is no obligation to engage further

(and as a bottom line if anybody reading this is considering playing pizza tower i suggest you pirate it instead of paying for it)

#ask #anon #also just want to say im open to having a discussion about this and towards critiques of my argument but if it gets to the point #where people are being unreasonable and aggressive ill be turning off anon/closing my askbox

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ms-hells-bells · 1 year

Text

i have to be honest, i'm having some complicated feelings at the moment, i'm quite perturbed, so i'm just open journaling, this doesn't really have a firm point or conclusion, just getting my thoughts out there.

it is a little frustrating and aggravating when i encounter accounts that hide their age for a variety of reasons. but i think it's a complex matter (helpful adults that want to avoid inappropriate interactions with minors vs malicious adults who seek minors to inappropriately interact with, etc.), and that's not what i want to talk about. this site is 13+. there are many kids on here. i was on here from 14. so, the mix of grown adults and very adult subjects and online responsibilities/consequences with....children can create uncomfortable circumstances regarding discussion and content re; violence, sex, and power imbalance [between child and adult users].

i am not eager to have such interactions (involving topics and content seen as explicit, mature, adult, violent, sexual, etc.) with minors because i am not a grooming man. and i think normalising it, even in a benign, attempt to be supportive manner can potentially create a vulnerability for the malignant 'you are mature for your age' men because a lot of these girls ARE very mature in terms of the way they speak, and the knowledge they have which other generations before them didn't have at their age before the internet. but that doesn't equal psychological and physiological maturity, and it doesn't mean being exposed so unrestrictedly to so much complex, adult topics and media when you've just started puberty is mentally healthy. as i've said, i was massively negatively impacted by being on here for much of my teen years, and most women i speak to on here or elsewhere say the same, we all have stories of grooming, inappropriate interactions, harassment, bullying, mental health degeneration, etc.

it's a difficult topic, and i don't think i have an answer, because teen girls deserve support and knowledge from older women, and there does need to be that transition from childhood to adulthood, including more maturity and social responsibility and involvement in discussions such as radical feminism in detail, but yeah. so, the most i can do is try not to actively interact with teens. i can't stop them from following me (that 'don't follow if you're a minor' does nothing lol), but i hope that we can encourage and teach taking breaks, avoiding direct conflict that leads to online harassment and abuse by other groups (or even within infighting here), focusing on school and irl hobbies and friends, and reminding them that they should have these discussions with themselves about what is healthy, and consider what exposure to which online content helps or hurts their mental health, personal relationships, natural development, etc.

that's all i want to say. if you are under 18, you are not stupid, you are not a baby, you are not sitting at the kiddie table. but you are also not an adult, and as women very aware of the damage done to our own selves by being exposed to so much when we were your age, we do very much care, and just want a balance between power of knowledge and having a normal, healthy adolescent development BECAUSE we respect you.

#long post

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wolfeyedwitch · 1 year

Note

not to be evil but standing cuffs for celeste

Yes to be evil. You 100% mean to be evil. Don't even try to lie.

Also for @amonthofwhump day 6: stress position

CW for female conditioned vampire whumpee, it as a pronoun, manhandling, stress position (duh, but I figured I'd say it anyway), sadistic whumper, pet whump, multiple whumpers

Masterlist

---

The vampire never knew what to expect when it was dragged to this room. It seemed that every time, its trainer brought something new.

The only constant was that it would hurt.

The men dragged it in and hauled it to its feet. Its legs quivered under the strain of its own weight, receiving a nasty chuckle from the men in response.

“Tired already, pet?” came its trainer’s voice.

Its eyes snapped to the man. Stupid, stupid, stupid, it had been too focused on its escorts to even notice the trainer. It couldn’t afford such mistakes!

Hesitantly, it nodded. It had long since learned not to speak. Words are for humans, not vermin, after all.

The trainer smiled like a shark. “Good.”

It tried to ask with its eyes, hoping he would condescend to explain what he meant.

“Your existence is no longer your own. You’ve begun to accept that, finally.”

“Took it long enough,” one of its escorts muttered.

The trainer gave him a sharp look before continuing. “Now you must accept that this applies to everything else about you, as well. You no longer set the terms of your un-life. That is for your owner to do. You will do as your owner directs, even if such things seem impossible.”

It didn’t like the sound of that. Fear started prickling along its limbs and gnawing at its empty stomach.

“Hands,” the trainer commanded.

The men restraining the vampire extended its hands towards the trainer. He grabbed something hanging from the ceiling, then fastened what turned out to be manacles—thankfully steel rather than silver—around its wrists. He stepped back. The others followed suit, letting the vampire fall.

It didn’t make it all the way to the floor. The chains connected to its manacles stopped its collapse, resulting in a harsh yank to its already injured shoulders. The vampire couldn’t hold back a whine at the pain.

The men only laughed.

At a nod from the trainer, the chains began shortening. The vampire was dragged upwards by the wrists, and it scrambled to get its feet under itself to decrease the awful strain on its arms. The chains only ceased shortening when the vampire was balancing on its toes, heels hovering off the ground.

The trainer stepped forward again, looking the vampire over as it struggled to remain standing.

“This,” he said, soft and sweet as poisoned honey, “is where you belong. As entertainment for your betters.” He patted its cheek, the touch too hard to be comforting but not quite hard enough to be a slap.

It was just grateful he wasn’t wearing the silver gloves today.

He stepped back with another sharp-edged smile. “Your task for today is simple: remain silent. If you can manage that? I might consider rewarding you,” he said.

It nodded fervently. It could do that. It would do that.

One of the others held out a leather pouch to the trainer, who accepted it and poured the contents into his hand. They looked like…

Oh, no. Oh no.

If it hadn’t just been told to be silent, it would wail in despair.

The trainer held up a handful of what might have been jacks, if not for the sharpened points. The metal gleamed unmistakably.

“Silver caltrops. Let no one accuse me of being too soft on the pets I train,” he said with a smirk. “If I were, how would you learn?”

He stepped behind the vampire, and it stiffened as he disappeared from its view.

The next sound it heard was that of metal against stone. It stiffened; tears pricked in its eyes.

It could feel the hated heat of silver beneath its feet.

It struggled to grasp the chains connected to its manacles, to both ease the strain in its shoulders and avoid the caltrops by holding itself up. The men laughed at its display.

“Like I said,” came the trainer’s voice as the man circled back around to face the vampire. “Entertainment.”

---

Taglist:

@kim-poce @cupcakes-and-pain @nonbinary-disaster @onlybadendings @neverthelass @its-mysweetlittlesecret-blog @ghostfacepepper @someonesnamesblog @rainbows-and-whumperflies @extemporary-whump @thecyrulik @myhusbandsasemni @heart4brains @kixngiggles @whumpsday @whumppsychology @elrysdoesstuff @towerlesskey @inkkswhumpandstuff @whumpycries @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @haro-whumps @pigeonwhumps @cc1010foxy

#the heart and the hunger #vampire whumpee #vampire whump #bthb #standing cuffs #winter whumperland #amow winter whumperland 2022 #stress positions #celeste the vampire #pet whump #manhandling #sadistic whumper #multiple whumpers #female whumpee #the vampire is female #it as a pronoun

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opinated-user · 11 months

Text

reminder to not listen to LO about anything sex or kink related

BDSM is not a kink, it's an acronym meaning bondage, discipline/domination, sadism/submission/switch and masochism. the larger community is open for more experiences that don't necessarily include any of these. the idea however that they are normalized because they're "common" or don't considered paraphilia anymore is false. in some countries you could get arrested for consensually spanking your adult partner in the privacy of your own home. her comment about how "nobody bothers anyone about self asphyxiation" sounds interesting to me because what does she mean by bother? as is, calling the police? being arrested for it? if you're applying self asphyxiation in a unsafe way that could potentially end your life like LO has promoted before, i hope you get bothered. i should hope someone is there to stop you and call someone that is able to deal with the damage to yourself. i'd hope that when you tell people about it, someone is there to tell you that is very dangerous, to not promote it yourself and just generally practice extreme caution when not avoid doing it altogether. i have no idea about the legality around this particular action, but... don't tell people that it's okay to do it and nobody will mind. or even imply that it's safe to do, as LO seems to do just that by comparing to another kink that does get called unsafe. this is how you get people killed.

finally, the point of her post is overall just wrong and you'd hope that the woman who has a pinned post talking about so many people accusing her of being a pedophile would be able to add two plus two. if people have "unjustly" accused LO of being a pedophile, does she really think then that it's a wise position to have to be in one where more accusation of pedophilia piled up? look too her intentionally pointing at another group "proshippers" to intentionally put them on a us vs them category. the idea is pure deflection. LO is a safe adult to be around. LO would never enjoy images made with the real suffering of children. LO would never suggest that a child is responsible for the action of a pedophile. LO has never made sexual content and sexual comment in spaces where she knew for sure minors could enter. LO is never creepy, has never expressed disgusting justifications for child grooming. LO doesn't have a long, long, way too long history of sexualizing real life children (including her own underage sister) and fictionalized children. she has never done that, despite all the evidence to the contrary that goes back more than a decade at this point and despite the accusations of multiple people who has known her for years. she wouldn't do that, because why else would she be accusing anyone else of doing so? why would she be so happy to grab another punching bag to whome give all the crimes she's being accused of, if clearly she didn't do anything? it couldn't be projection, right? futhermore... once again, people do consider BDSM abusive. some laws actually do as well. that's the entire bulk of anti kink people or "kink critical" radfems or the actual movement that search to criminalize all kinks, yes, even the most common ones. or the movement of people who are desperately trying to make trans people, people who do drag or are generally gender non conforming into active dangers of society. maybe on this environment is not exactly the wisest choice to insist that the only people to get be "shamed" for being pedophiles are the ones who deserve it and are legitimately pedophiles. maybe LO shouldn't be lying to her audience about only "real pedophiles" being under fire.

do not take the word of LO on any of this and do your own research.

#lily orchard

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dimonds456 · 7 months

Text

Aight, what you see above is an article that's getting passed around by proshippers. I'm making my own post separate from theirs to discuss the contents of this article and why I believe everyone *should* read it, while also I don't believe the article is correct.

The article was written by a Japanese artist who had been harassed for "proshipping" online, even though they themself did not partake in anything more than aging up 15-year-old characters to 19. As far as they claim, that was it (though the artwork itself is not provided).

Someone had DMed them, asking if they were a proshipper, or a "problematic shipper", to which they shrugged and went "I guess so?" and then that person-referred to as A- started spreading it to all their friends that A was a proshipper and to avoid them, leading to soft blocks, harassment, ect.

Something I'd like to point out that is correct about this article is the meaning of "proshipper." It doesn't mean "problematic ships." Instead, "pro" is the prefix, not an abbreviation. The meaning is in reference to someone who is unbothered by any specific type of ship, and/or supports the creation of problematic ships. This difference is, I feel, important, not because the definition is changed, but because how people view that definition changes substantially.

Keep that in mind.

Something else of note here is the cultural difference. The artist is from Japan, and according to them, Japan allows ships of any kind. Japan, as a country, is proship, which creates vast and varied artistic expressions. Any and everything is allowed.

And, according to worldpopulationreview.com, the age of consent in Japan is 13 (though articles are saying they're rethinking this law).

Again, I recommend reading the article for yourself to fully understand the artist's point of view, but I'd like to break down where the author was wrong about many things. A lot of them stem from cultural differences and are normalized, so you can't really blame them, but it's good to keep in mind when interacting with proshippers from all over the world.

Something they're right about is harassment. I don't think people should be being harassed for stuff like this. Blocked? Yes.

The first thing they got wrong was the general assumption that fiction doesn't affect reality, or that antis cannot tell the difference between fiction and reality. This (at least for a lot of us) isn't true. Using myself as an example, it's clear to me that fiction and reality are two different worlds.

However, to say that fiction doesn't affect reality is false. Both worlds influence each other. If an adult starts dating a 13-year-old in fiction, younger audience members who watch that will see that relationship play out. Depending on how it's portrayed, this can either help or harm that audience member. If this relationship is deemed bad in that piece of media, then the younger members of that audience will remember that, vs if they say it's okay, THAT'S where you've crossed into proship territory that is actively harmful towards your audience.

I am a firm believer that anything should be allowed in fiction, as long as the author is respectful, responsible, and considers the ramifications of their work towards a real audience. So like, having a relationship between a 19-year-old and a 13-year-old should be allowed to be portrayed, as long as it isn't positive. By not allowing these stories to be told at all, that's leaning into some book burning shit.

What the author did, aging up 15-year-olds to 19, is not inherently bad, especially since they say it wasn't sexual in nature (but again, the art itself is never presented).

The second thing they get wrong is calling us a minority. I don't believe there were any studies done on this, but I don't think the majority of Americans go around talking about shipping children with adults? Again, it's a cultural difference that was influenced on this specific artist BY other proshippers. It's a biased view from both sides. I do not believe any studies have officially been done on this subject, so you cannot call us a minority. But, we can't call you a minority, either. I'm not sure how many there are on either side.

But also, I don't think that really matters. Continuing my topic from before with fiction affecting reality, if someone in that audience can get hurt because of your story, then it doesn't matter if the majority don't. It's still harmful and can affect reality- THIS reality- in negative ways. By drawing proship art and saying it doesn't matter because it's fiction, you're helping to normalize this art for ACTUAL predators. It doesn't matter how many proshippers there are, this is STILL harmful.

Something else I noticed, but I cannot point specifically to this article as evidence for, but it may be influencing the author, is the idea of in-fandom vs outside-fandom. The author mentions this a couple times, though usually in reference to the cultural differences between Japan and America.

The author is outside the US fandom, and so doesn't fully understand its inner workings or why so many of us are anti-proship "purest"s. I don't know how else to explain this besides going up to your grandparents and asking them if they think proshipping is okay.

Upon hearing the actual definition- being unbothered or perpetuating any type of relationship between two or more characters in fiction- they might go "yeah I agree with that," because that does sound nice on paper. Freedom of expression.

But what antis have come to realize is that fiction DOES affect reality, and if you were to ask your grandparents if they thing a child should be in a relationship with an adult, they'd probably go "no."

This is purely because they don't understand the culture of being online, and the several, several subcultures that came to be. We know what proshippers are and what they represent, but someone outside fandom space wouldn't.

And now, to any proshippers reading this: first of all, thank you for hearing me out, lol. But then, I ask you to please re-evaluate why you're a proshipper. Is it for the freedom of expression idea, do you just not give a shit, or do you genuinely enjoy seeing kids and adults together? Maybe something else? I'm not going to tell you how to feel about that- you can come to your own conclusion- but I do ask that you re-examine that idea.

If the author is SOMEHOW reading this, first of all, thank you too. My goal here was not to harass you in any way, but to point out the core of why this article doesn't really work. I'm sure in Japan things are vastly different, and that's not your fault, OP. And although I don't stand by what A did to you, I do ask that you think again. Stuff like this does affect reality, even in small ways (but when it comes to p*dos, it can be FAR more harmful than good).

Proshippers help normalize unhealthy behaviors that can seriously hurt children for the rest of their lives. Do proships exist in reality? ...Yes. Not between fictional characters, but those characters can influence people in real life to go "oh yeah the incest ship was okay in this anime, which means it's fine if I'm like that, too." It's not fine. It's not okay.

Again, I'm not here to harass you, and ultimately it's up to you whether you choose to listen. I'm sorry for the harassment at all, that should not have occurred.

Back to my general audience, though, yeah. Again, read the article for yourself (which I do still highly recommend). It gives a good glimpse into the minds and ideas of some proshippers out there. I don't think OP is a bad person, just misinformed. And I believe the same of a lot of proshippers out there. We can't change their minds, but we can make sure misinfo like what is in the article is debunked, and spread correct information regarding the subject.

Some sources:

youtube

Again, read the article, do some thinking (on BOTH sides), and have a good one, guys.

#dimond speaks #i do think this debate is WAY more heated than it needs to be #i firmly believe proshipping is bad and there isn't an excuse for it #darkfic is different (until proshippers started using that term too)#it all depends on portrayal #like i don't like watching that sort of thing myself but it might be cathartic for someone else #or there could be valuable lessons to glean from it #like this is one of the many things i hated about 'as i lay dying'#one of the kids of the family gets. that. and there is no plot reason besides “she's stupid”#i do think these works deserve to exist if only so we can discuss them and learn from them #but actively partaking in normalizing this stuff is NOT OKAY and shouldn't be regarded as such #idk im tired.#i'd ask that i not be taken out of context here and if someone wants to debate me i'm all ears #but yeah. love your neighbor and don't sexualize kids okay?#and op i dont think your art was proship i think people on twitter were exaggerating #but again i havent seen the art so idk what theyre talking about #k peace #tw incest mention #incest mention #proshipping #tw proship #ask to tag #Youtube

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