#SOMETHING ABOUT THAT SASH THING AROUND HIS WAIST | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gxthicwxrm · 1 year

Note

would you pls write jj having sex with reader while ALL the pogues are at the chateau in the living room & they both don’t hold back because they’re filthy & don’t get embarrassed🫣

Birthday Boy

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!pouge!reader

Summary: you have a surprise party for JJ, and he has a surprise for you.

Warnings: smut, cursing, p in v, weed/smoking, fluff

Word Count: 2149 words

Main Masterlist - OBX Masterlist

---

"Surprise!" Everyone screams as JJ pulls off the bandana you tied across his eyes before looking around the room at the decorations you and your friends had put up while John B took JJ to pick up dinner. With a massive smile across his features, he turns to you as you hold a cake in your arms, candles illuminating the sugary square.

"Happy Birthday, J." You smile as you look up at him. He blows out the candles before capturing your lips in a kiss.

"I love you." He mumbles against your flesh before pulling away and turning to his friends. Sarah walks over to you, taking the cake from your hands.

“You did good. This is amazing!” Sarah reassures you before heading to the kitchen.. You’ve known Sarah since you were eleven years old. She was the first and closest friend you made since you moved to the OBX. That was until she introduced you to JJ.

"Thank you guys so much! Y'all didn't have to do all of this for me." He says nonchalantly, attempting to brush the gesture off, but his glassy eyes give him away as he looks around at everyone with a bashful smile. Coming up beside him, you wrap your arms around his slim waist making him wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him tightly.

“JJ, you deserve this and more. You deserve the world.” You tell him, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek; a lipstick stain marking his face. You move to wipe it off when he catches your wrist.

“Leave it. I like it.” He says, kissing your hand before turning back to his friends, a mischievous smile on his face as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a perfectly rolled joint.

“Birthday Sesh.” Everyone froze in silence before bursting into laughter as JJ looked around at his friends confused. Once the laughter died down, Sarah reached behind the couch as Pope grabbed a tray from under the coffee table. Sarah tosses a bag to John B who handed it to JJ. Giggling, JJ opened the bag and pulled out a joint and two blunts while Pope put the tray on top of the table that held two smaller joints and a bowl.

“Birthday sesh!” The group says in unison before making their way to the lit fire burning. JJ was shocked as he looked around the yard to see lights laced through the branches of the trees and balloons tied to a chair with a cloth on it. You walk over to the chair, grabbing the cloth before motioning for the blonde to come to you before putting the sash over his torso.

‘Birthday Boy.’

Looking down at the fabric, JJ blushes before grabbing your face and pressing his lips against yours. His hand slides down to cup your throat as he growls, quietly.

“Get a room!” Kie yells as Pope whistles as they grab a seat around the fire. JJ plops into his seat, pulling you into his lap before lighting the first joint of the night as conversation picks up.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you. Honest, I don’t know how I got so lucky to have found you.” JJ whispers into your ears before kissing your cheek, passing the jay to Pope who was ranting about something to Kie.

“I’m the lucky one, JJ. Did you like the surprise?” You ask, turning to face him as his hand rubs your upper thigh.

“Yes, baby. This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me. And it was with my family. It is perfect, baby girl.” He brushes your cheek before Pope brings him into the debate between him and Kie while JB laughs at Pope’s dramatic gestures, almost knocking over his drink.

Across the fire, you could see Sarah's mouth word, ‘I told you so’.

---

“Goodnight!” JB and Sarah were the last to go to bed as the clock hit three am. before you and JJ move into the bedroom. Closing the door behind him, JJ pulls off his t-shirt before tossing his shorts to the side and jumping into bed. Following behind him, you strip down to your underwear and hop in beside him. Pulling the covers over both of you, JJ pulls your chest against his.

“Tonight did mean a lot to me, babe. I don’t even have words for it. I’m just so grateful for you.” He says, holding your face while his other hand rubs your side. Caressing his back, you draw small patterns into his skin before looking up at him.

“I would go to the end of the earth for you, JJ Maybank. You deserve everything in the world that would make you happy.” You say sincerely. Your words ignite something in JJ as his hand moves from your hip to gripping your ass.

“Everything? I deserve everything I want? That’s what you said, right baby?” JJ’s voice is smooth as his eyes rake over your face as he slowly shifts his weight until he is hovering over you.

“Yes.” You whisper as JJ guides your legs around his hips, grinding his bulge against your core, gaining a moan from both of you.

“You wanna know what I want?” JJ kisses down your neck, leaving love bites here and there along your collarbone. Pulling off your bra, JJ kisses along your breast before licking your nipple, bringing a yelp from your lips. Pulling away, his lips are switched with his fingers as he plays with your nipple.

“I asked you a question.” JJ looks up at you, abruptly stopping his movements. “Do you want to know what I want?” He asks again, enunciating every word.

“Yes, sir.” You answer, grinding your hips upwards against him before he lowers against you, grinding harder.

“Good girl.” He praises you with a warm smile before his eyes darkened as you whine, pathetically. “I want you to be a screaming mess beneath me.” He grabs your underwear and pulls them down your legs before removing his boxer, tossing both to the floor. JJ rubs his cock against your clit before guiding himself into you until you are full of him.

Arching your back, your eyes roll back as JJ pushes your legs apart before rapidly thrusting into you eliciting boisterous moans that filled the room.

"Fuck, you look so good under me," JJ grunts as his hand grips your throat, squeezing slightly.

The two of you became an obnoxious, moaning mess as you feel your stomach start to tighten as JJ's hips smack against yours, transporting you as your eyes rolled back.

"Oh Fuck, I'm coming!" You yelp as your cum drenched JJ's thighs. JJ's thrusts slow down as he lets you ride your high out before pulling up, much to your disappointment.

"Turn around. I wanna see that ass, baby girl." JJ gestures with his hand, which you comply with as you arch your back while resting on your elbows.

"You listen to me so well, baby. You just love to let me use you, huh? You love being full of my cock?" J nibbles on your ear lobe as he pressed his dick into your core, making an unexpected gasp leave your lips as you drop your head against the bed.

"Oh, God. Oh my God. This feels so good." You groan as you feel JJ snake his hand through your hair before gripping at the scalp, pulling you until your back was against his chest while he slowly thrust into you.

"Oh, little one. Don't scream God’s name, scream mine." He snarls as he lets go of your hair, letting your drop to your arms again before pounding into you at an alarming speed.

"Fuck! JJ! Holy Shit." You screamed as JJ pulled you closer, making himself go deeper into you. You feel yourself tighten around him as the pressure in your abdomen grows.

"This is fucking heaven!" JJ moans as he grabs your hair again, being more gentle than the previous. "I'm going to cum." JJ grabs your hips and slams you against him while you reach for your clit, rubbing circles as you felt yourself begin to come.

"Oh, yes! JJ! Fuck!" You moan as you feel JJ pull out quickly before his cum lands on your backside.

Stunned, you lay on the bed, feeling euphoric as JJ wipes himself off with a rag before grabbing another to wipe you off before pulling on fresh boxers you finally turn and sit up to face him, a lazy smile covering your face.

"Here, baby. Put this on." JJ says as he grabs one of his old t-shirts and hands it to you, but stops you to lean down and connect your lips.

"You are the best gift I could ever ask for. I mean that with my whole heart. And I will marry you one day. Matter of fact, wait…" JJ dashes over to his bag as you pull on his shirt and scoot to the edge of the bed as he comes back to sit in front of you with something in his hands.

"JJ, what are you doing?" You laugh, unsure of why he was kneeling on one knee when you realized what was in his hands. The blonde boy sat in front of you, in nothing but his boxers, with a ring outstretched in his hands. Your heart started to pound in your ears as fear crept into your soul. He wouldn't, would he?

"Y/N, will you do me the honor of being Mrs. Maybank?" JJ looks up at you, eyes filled with fear as you analyze him for any sign of a joke. When you found nothing but sincerity, a smile broke out on your face.

"Yes, of course. I would be honored to be your wife, JJ." Your words send JJ flying towards you as he wraps you in his arms as you both fall onto the bed.

"Fuck yes!" He screams, kissing all over your face before pulling away to grab your hand as he slides his ring onto your finger.

"For better, for worse," JJ says with a smile, brushing your cheek.

"For richer, for poorer," you say the next part of the vow as you lean into his hand, moving your own to brush strands of blonde from his eyes. "In sickness and in health,"

"To love and to cherish, until parted by death," You and JJ say in unison as he leans his forehead against yours, brushing his nose with yours before kissing you. Pulling away, JJ lays back as you snuggle to his side with his arm around you as you feel your eyes start to shut.

"Wanna smoke?" JJ's voice cuts through your fall to sleep as your eyes shoot open.

"Fuck yes!" You say, sitting up and pulling on a pair of your shorts and a hoodie. After slipping on your shoes, you and JJ leave the room and head towards the back when you notice all your friends are wide awake, sitting in the living room. The clock read 4:47 am.

"Congrats, guys!" Sarah says, sarcastically with a genuine smile as she leans into John B on the couch with a blanket covering them both.

"Mr. And Mrs. Maybank!" Kie joins in while John B and Pope mockingly moan loudly.

"Oh, my god." You say covering your face as you bury it into JJ's chest. Mortification wouldn't cover how you felt as your stomach started to turn. You couldn't believe your friends heard you and JJ having sex.

"Okay, guys. That's enough. Do yall want to smoke or not?" JJ laughs, erasing the joking tension as everyone looks at each other before smiling.

"Lit it up, Birthday boy." JB playfully snaps his finger at JJ as you and he sit on the couch, him pulling a fuzzy blanket over your lap with his arm still around you. Pope hands him a blunt which he lights and takes a hit before passing it to you.

"Did you guys just get engaged?" Kie asked from her spot beside Pope. With a smile, you look at JJ, waiting for his answer as he turns to the group.

"Actually, it was a Routledge-style wedding." JJ kisses the side of your head. "She's my wife." He finishes with a smile as your friends cheer as you see Sarah and JB kiss as they remember their wedding.

Looking down at your hand, you look at JJ's ring as it fits perfectly like it was made for your hand as well as his. Turning to face him, while he talks to your shared friends, you realized how perfect the two of you were together.

JJ Maybank was your husband and you couldn't be happier as his eyes catch your own and you see your future unfold in his smile. Nothing could be more right in the world than this.

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mx-your-name · 1 month

Text

His Goddess

Possessive!Adam x Goddess!Reader

Warning: Yandere theme, Possessive Adam, nothing really about murder besides Adam’s dead and Sinners

Prompt: You are both of the goddess of Creation and Destruction

-It started off as you making a meeting of you and the rest of the gods and goddess about certain things that need to be taken care of and made a full balanced out scale so nothing could get destroyed or messed up.

-You were running a bit late since you had others to deal with.

-Your advisor who was the one to help out with your schedule had you do some stuff almost making you fully late to the meeting that you had set up.

“No! I told you! We need to act now! Heaven and Hell are going to destroy each other!” A female yelled. She was wearing a flowy white outfit, short white sleeves that stayed on her shoulder and across her chest making a big V shape. A cut on each side of the dress on each side of her legs so they could stick out. Some gold draped over her waist with a white blindfold over her eyes representing her covering her eyes so wouldn’t be able to cheat on the winning side. There was a scale on the table beside her where she could determine on what side to decide to choose from. A lion next to where she sits at the table. This was Themis the goddess of Justice and Law.

“I say they continue, it’s the only way to figure out the war! They need to sort this out themselves, we cannot interfere with anything or that’ll mess up everything that he built up! And they are to know nothing about our existence!” A male shouted back across the circular table from her. He was wearing mostly full armor and a helmet, he had a spear that slid into the chair arm rest that he sat on so he wouldn’t have to keep holding it. A red cape that fell behind him against his back. His shield that he always carried around next to him. There was mostly red and dark red on his clothes which represented the blood and violence. This was Ares the god of War and Courage

“Well we need to decide something or they'll be with each other and there won’t be anyone else any longer!” Themis responded back, her lion growling at the god of War. “I say that it goes on! They can decide their own damn fate with you determining what to happen with your stupid scale!” Ares remarked back, a tick appearing on his head as Themis gritted her teeth in anger. “Oh I can’t watch this! Why can't we all get along and love each other..” a male muttered to himself, he was wearing a white sash that goes over his body covering everything up. Giant white wings on his back that were against his back. This was Eros the god of Love and Desire, or as others call him Cupid.

Placing his fingers up his face pressing one against his mouth, as he glanced between the two who were fighting about the situation at hand. He sat beside the goddess of justice on the right side of her. A sigh comes from across Eros as he looks over to see a female that had a bird on her arm as she fed it. She was wearing a green draped dress that went down to her ankles, some green vines snaking around her head and on top of her head forming a flower crown that grew from the vines and bushes. This was Demeter the goddess of Nature and Fertility.

“What do you think about this matter, Demeter?” Eros asked, smiling a gentle closed smile. “I honestly don’t care about it unless it involves me, Eros. After all there’s really nothing we can do without interfering with what's happening between them both.” Demeter said, being fully honest about everything she stated. Eros felt his cheeks turn red, a bit admirable of the woman in front of him.

“Who cares what you think! I’m the god of War! And I say let it happen, how else did I solve my situation?” Ares slammed his hands on the table as he stood up glaring at Themis who also got up from her seat. “That doesn't mean anything! We need to stop it! And who cares about the war you’ve been through? You wanted to be in that war! And you know it!” Themis commented, anger written on her face.

Ares was going to resort back but was cut off by a loud voice enough in through the room. “That’s enough for both of you!” All attention went to you who was at the head of the table, Ares on your right and Themis on your left with Demeter next to Ares and Eros next to Themis. Both of them muttered sorry with a bow, immediately sitting back down after that.

You wore a long white and gold cloak that would almost reach the ground with a white looking dress that reached to the ground practically dragging against it. It wasn’t bigger than your height, instead it was made that way to shrink or grow depending on the height you wanted to go along with the same thing with the other gods and goddesses. Your black boots covered by the clothing, taking a seat as you started talking. You were the goddess of Creation and Destruction.

Everyone nodding their heads as they look at you, “Now let’s discuss what the situation is at hand. The heaven exterminators that have been killing sinners.” Glancing over at everyone then continuing on. “Does anyone have any ideas on what we should do about this at hand?” Questioning as you look towards Ares first letting him speak.

“I believe that we should just let them figure out their war against each other. If we intervene at all it could mess up everything and everyone would also find out about our existence which is supposed to stay a secret.” Ares explained knowing what might happen if you all stopped everything or tried to reveal yourselves. Nodding your head at the end of his words, “I see.. Themis? What do you have to say about this?”

“I think, sorry. I know that this is an incredibly stupid idea! If we don’t do anything then we are gonna have to keep reincarnating every single person that dies at the hand of the angels or they get completely wiped from this world of their existence! We’ve already had over 500 sinners dead since the last five extermination.” Themis went on, she was one to be level headed but at this point her patience was running thinner and thinner.

Letting out a hum as you quickly snapped your fingers making tea appear in front of everyone in the room. “Drink some tea and calm down Themis. You too Ares. Yelling isn’t gonna get anything done correctly.” You told them, Themis letting out a breath and drinking some of your tea as Ares just grumbles but doesn’t say anything else. “[Name], if I may speak up. I think we should be focused on those IMP’s right now. They’ve been destroying everything on Earth and killing people after people without a care in the world.”

Demeter spoke calmly, looking over at you as she pet her bird that sat on her finger. “Ah yes that was another problem I was going to discuss. Thank you for reminding me Demeter. Now about the IMP’s I think we should-” getting cut off by your words when a loud thud was heard at the other end of the room in front of the giant door. Everyone's head snaps towards the door, as the person who distrusted the meeting. You knew everyone would never intrude during the meetings especially even go near the room.

The person stood up grumbling looking around the room to see it was quite large, vines climbing up the walls to represent Nature, heart shaped lighting to represent Cupid, knight armor to represent War, scale alongside the walls to represent Justice, and nice interior design made from Creation. Getting a better look at the male face who looked at the five of you. Demeter eyes widened in surprise, Ares sprinting out his drink on accident eyes wide, Themis jaw was on the floor at who the male was, and Eros was freaking out.

You on the other hand were also surprised but shocked on how this could’ve happened. “Is… is that..?” Eros started, pointing his finger at the male who was shocked at your guy's height being even taller than him. “Who the fuck are you guys?” You recognized that look, clearing your throat as you softly smiled. “Welcome, Adam. Though I must ask what are you doing here? You aren’t supposed to be up..here.”

You spoke smoothly, staring down at him with your eyes peering at him. “Oh I don’t know. I got fucking stabbed and killed! Where the hell am I?” He said sarcastically, everyone was whispering to themselves on what to do since no one besides them and their workers are supposed to be up high on these levels. Not even Sera was allowed up here. “Well if you must know you’re in the Tower of Heaven, Adam. Or as other people know it is the highest power that’s above where Gods stay and observe both heaven and hell.”

You explained guestering to the gods and goddess that sit at the table in front of him. Getting up from your seat as you go over to where Adam was three times divided by your height. Sitting down on your knees, scooping him up into your hands lifting him up to your eye level. Adam took a step back from how tall you and the others loomed over him.

“I sincerely apologize. I wasn’t expecting how this is how our first encounter would go. Especially when meeting you, Adam.” You apologized, smiling gently at him. “Uh-huh.. so this place is what? A fucking place for you tall ass gods? There’s no fu- sorry, way that there’s more than one god.” Crossing his arms, a pink blush lightly across his face that was very light for anyone to see. But Eros could feel the slightest of love coming from where Adam is standing, silently squealing internally.

“Yes, he is indeed the original and the most powerful but we’re the gods who represent other things. Eros is the god of love, Demeter the goddess of nature, Ares the god of War, and Themis the goddess of Justice.” You said adjusting Adam into one hand so he wouldn’t fall, pointing at every single god in the room who greeted him in a simple head nod, a wave, or just a simple hello. “And what are you the goddess of? Being hot and sexy?” A smirk was on his face as he looked up at you, placing a hand over your mouth as you let out a laugh.

“No no. I’m the goddess of creation and destruction. I’m mostly second in command of all the gods and demigods.” You told him, placing him back down on the ground. Once he was on it you stood up to your full height which was about 40 feet tall. With a snap of your fingers the whole room shifted into a normal sized room so everything wasn’t so big for the first man. Your once 40 foot tall figure is now around ten tall along with the other good and goddess in the room.

“They're much better, so you won’t have to keep looking up at us,” you joked laughing a bit.

-After that encounter and when the meeting was over you had taken a stroll around the place with Adam explaining why he was here and not back in heaven. Your reasoning being that once someone ACTUALLY die you were either completely deleted or reincarnated by the hands of you guys

-But since it was THE Adam he was able to stay here and observe people and do whatever he wanted. Though he wouldn’t be able to go back to heaven since that would mess up everything

-Time continued to pass and during that you and Adam would get closer and closer each passing day

-He felt like he was falling more in love everytime he saw you or when you talked.

-You were single to so it was a plus for him

-He’d be the more possessive type of lover, as day passed he felt the need to stay by your side no matter what

-Whether it was a gods meeting, you in your office, checking up on heaven, hell, and Earth, or just strolling around the garden enough the view of everything

-Wherever you went he went. And where he went you went. Since this is gonna have to be a two way thing, after all your lovers friends

-Eros felt the love come off from Adam whenever he was near which was every second

-Not only did Eros the god of love feel the love but he felt the love was more possessive and a bit obsessive but more on the possessive side

-He didn’t care about it since it was still love

-Not much between the Dickmaster and Cupid; the first man doesn’t really like how he talks about love especially with you but when it’s someone else it’s cool with him just stay away from you and then the two of them will be cool

-Demeter didn’t really feel the need to get to know Adam since she knew everything about him but respected him enough as another demigod like god of sea, god of animals, etc, etc

-Ares oh geez don’t let those two stay in a room too long all they're gonna talk about is the war that they were in. Ares being the non stop against humans and other gods while Adam was against the sinners in hell

-Ares respected Adam, and Adam respected Ares back

-Themis and Adam is a completely different level of dislike

-Not like Themis HATES Adam or anything just doesn’t.. trust him

-How could she when her scale is always lower on one side than the other? And it wasn’t the good side

-Sometimes it’s balanced

-Now back to the two of you! You could care less on what Adam thinks of you if it was a lover, friend, family, or whatnot

-You were a goddess of creation and destruction you could do anything you want

-You also made Adam his own room in an instant once he had came to the Tower of Heaven

-It wasn’t ever used. Adam always slept in your room after the his first week stay and getting to know you better

-Adam has apologized multiple times for cursing in front of you or the other gods when getting a glare or look that told him to not say any of those words. He started using it less and less but still uses it time to time when with you, you didn’t say anything about it much unless he was cussing WAY to much

#x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #Yandere Hazbin hotel x reader #yandere adam #adam x reader #Yandere Adam x reader #goddess reader x Adam #goddess reader #goddess!reader #the dickmaster #the first man #Yandere Hazbin hotel x goddess!reader #Hazbin hotel x goddess!reader

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neopuppy · 1 year

Note

Hi 😊 hope you're doing well. Can I ask for just the tip scenario with jaemin please 💙 love your work.

think of this as…..a teaser of something to come in the future☺️💚

warnings: ‘just the tip’, unprotected penetration

“I thought you said she was special for a newbie.”

Jaemin’s glaring at you, arms crossed over his chest annoyed with his ankles mimicking the same position. Only to further intimidate you, test your will and see just how serious you are about this.

“She is.” Johnny’s quick to confirm, quickly shooting him a stern look before moving to stand in front of you and hide you with his larger frame. “Don’t listen to anything he says.”

“I’m still sore from yesterday..” you try to whisper, Jeno standing nearby scratching at his nape shyly.

“Sorry…” he mouths, shrugging and smiling sheepishly.

“Do you want to reschedule?” Johnny’s assuring as always, squeezing your shoulders to calm you. “We don’t have to film today if you’re not up to it.”

Jaemin’s mumbling curses under his breath, tightening the sash around his waist, robe concealing more of his chest. “This is bullshit.”

“No no..” you know Jaemin’s pissed off, rolling his eyes behind Johnny’s back while repeating ‘special my ass’. “Can’t we just, I don’t know.. take things slow?”

“We’re shooting a gonzo scene, how the hell do you imagine we can take things slow!” Jaemin moves to stand next to you, his expression clearly filled with frustration. “This is stupid Johnny! We’re wasting filming time.”

“We can always rework the filming style, nothings set in stone alright? Calm it down.”

“What if we..” Jaemin’s eyebrows furrow at the sound of your voice, teeth gritted between his lips. “A little at a time, you know.. slow.”

Jeno clears his throat, continuing to set up the camera’s position. “Just the tip scenes do great from what I’ve seen, just saying.”

“Just the tip?” Johnny’s eyebrow cocks up, slowly nodding. “POV Just The Tip….innocent slut struggles to take a 9 inch cock for the first time.” His fingers snap, nodding and smiling. “You think you can handle that?”

Jaemin smirks over his shoulder for only you to see, tongue dragging between his teeth as if daring you to back down.

“I can do it.”

Johnny nods, tugging you into his side to whisper against your hair. “I won’t get mad if you can’t.”

Tucking into his chest you double check that Jaemin’s moved away, wrapping around Johnny’s waist. “Is it really 9?”

He laughs at that, stroking your waist through the robe. “Nothing you haven’t handled before.”

He’s right, between filming with Johnny and Jeno you’ve been put through thicker and bigger than you fathomed to be possible, but Jaemin..

As if on cue he unties the sash around his trim waist, eyeing you from your toes up to the anxious look you give him in return. Grinning slightly he bites down on the corner of his lip, robe dropped down leaving himself completely bare, length half hard dangling between his upper thigh and pelvic bone.

Fuck.

Tugging himself to full mass his brows lift at you suggestively, as if to say ‘you next’.

The settings simple today, nothing plot heavy, plain set only for the purpose of close-up shots, a few cameras set up around to capture your lower halves connecting, Jeno handling a handheld camera for up-above shots from Jaemin’s point of view. It’s different, and as you approach the edge of the couch in front of him you remind yourself that this has to do good. It’s only your second week working at Suh Films, and the last thing you plan to do is let Johnny down so soon after taking a chance on you.

“Jeno fuck you too good yesterday?” Jaemin asks, low toned, grabbing onto the knotted up sash keeping your figure covered. “You know, if you can’t handle a little pain..”

“I can.”

“He’s not really..” Jaemin leans in, licking at your earlobe. “As thick as me.” Untying your robe, he steps closer and grips onto your waist, fingers digging into your sides purposefully to manhandle you onto the couch, robe completely slipping off in the process.

Gripping around your knees, he hoists you closer until half of your ass hangs from the edge, shoving your legs into place until you sit spread open, feet curled against the couches ledge and your palms flat to support your balance.

A sadistic thrill runs through his chest, inspecting your swollen core. Jeno really had done a number on you, fucking like a horny teenager finally nailing his wet dream. Palming down your inner thighs, he pulls your center open with his thumbs, wet folds spreading out met with the cool air filling the room.

“You’ll let me put it in a little, right?” He asks, no longer whispering. The cameras rolling not even crossing your mind, too engrossed in each flex of muscle rippling through his chest and arms. The dumb whiny nod you give is all he needs to grip around the base of his length, girth appearing ridiculous in thickness surrounded by his fingers.

Smoothing his thumb between your folds, he bends at the knee, the tip of his length swiping between to smear arousal up to your clit. Slit sucking at the bundles of nerves with each slow pass.

“Too wet for a whore that can’t take a big cock.” Jaemin sneers, tip pushing down a glob of wetness back to your entrance, the sound of it bubbling out embarrassingly loud.

“I can..”

“Oh yeah?” His teeth poke out, hiding back a smile as he pushes down against your resistant opening, having to suck back a hiss at the first bit of his length making it inside. “Fuck that’s tight.”

Jaemin whispers too low for the cameras to pick up, zoned in on the tip of his length struggling to push past the pulsating band sucking around him.

He keeps still for a second, inhaling short deep breaths as the veins lining his rod thrum violently, hungry for more. “Need in this pussy.”

Chewing at his bottom lip for a minute, his cockhead dips in and out furiously; stomach muscles contorting with every snap of your entrance around him. Focusing on your cunt gripping around his size, the stretch too painful to even look at. Heat scorches between his thighs, balls tightening up forcing him to tear his gaze away, distracting himself with your mouth, hung open and panting.

“Can you take more?”

#nct hard hours #nct smut #nct dream smut #jaemin drabbles #anon #jaemin hard hours

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miraclewoozi · 9 months

Text

NOW YOU SEE ME - c.hs

you can’t say you’re surprised that your boyfriend leaps at the thought of throwing some sensory deprivation into the mix of your sex life, but you’re maybe a little shocked at just how into it he gets.

pairing; vernon x fem reader. genre; smut. plotless smut. MINORS DNI. w/c; 4.5k a/n; smut warnings under the cut. a/n2.0: you ever just think about that one time hhu wore blindfolds on stage? yeah. yeah, me too. a/n3.0: this is half proof read and half not proof read because if i had to re-read the rest i was gonna delete it! so! if there's a typo, no there isn't! <3

warnings; swearing (honestly just assume this is a given with me at this point), blindfolding, nipple play (m rec), finger sucking, praise, handjob (m rec), orgasm denial (m rec), piv sex (not wrapped but it’s est. relationship), slight dumbification (of him<3), face sitting/cum eating implied(f rec), pet-names (baby, sollie, angel, maybe a couple others). dom!reader, sub!vernon. reader is shorter than him. (if i've missed anything, please let me know!)

“...Blindfolds?”

“Blindfold. Singular,” you correct your boyfriend, shuffling slightly against the back of the couch. He cocks his head a little but he doesn’t contest it: he just waits for you to continue. “I don’t know. Things got a little… over-friendly at brunch the other day and someone brought it up as something they’d always wanted to try.”

“Huh,” Vernon muses. “Yeah, no. I’d never really thought about it.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you assure him, and he rolls his eyes at you, looking back down at his phone. He taps the screen and the familiar jingle to his favourite game sounds through his speaker once more.

“I didn’t say that,” he says, the corners of his mouth tweaking up almost undetectably. What’s less discrete, though, is the way his bottom lip pinches as he draws it just slightly between his teeth. “You know I’ll try anything once.”

“Anything?” you tease, raising the volume of the TV again now your little intermission seems to be coming to an end.

“Almost anything,” he corrects. You laugh, and so does he; you bump your foot against his abdomen where your legs are resting in his lap, and his grin stays an extra few seconds on his face. Right up until something in his game obviously gets a little more difficult; then, his brow furrows in concentration and his thumbs start moving deftly across the screen. You turn back to the TV, pretending to pay any attention to the show you put on a little while ago, but your mind starts to drift elsewhere.

Good to know.

Three weeks pass before anything comes of that little conversation.

For a little while, Vernon was half-expecting you to whip out a sash of satin every single time things got the slightest bit steamy in the bedroom. When he told you he was down to try almost anything once, he really wasn’t kidding — even though you’re yet to deliver on that grand idea, you can safely say that your sex life has gotten a little bit spicier since you brought it up. Nothing nuts, granted. A few restraints, a couple of new toys here and there, but as yet…

No blindfolds.

So when he gets home from work late one evening, yawning his way through the front door to your apartment, it’s honestly faded almost entirely from his mind. Hearing him enter, you come through to greet him in the hallway, eyes landing on Vernon as he’s mid-stretch, his t-shirt riding up to expose a sliver of his toned midriff. Your smile at seeing him only brightens.

“Long day?” you ask, taking the last few steps towards him. Maybe there’s a little extra sway in your hips as you do, but Vernon looks so out of it that you’re not entirely sure he notices. He nods at your question anyway, rolling out a kink in his neck.

“The longest,” he says. “How was yours?”

“Slow,” you sigh, reaching him and slipping your arms around his waist. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He ducks his head down, pressing a short but sweet kiss to the tip of your nose. You rock up onto your toes to press one of your own to his lips and he smiles against you, humming in the back of his throat. “Can we order something in today? If I try to cook right now, I’ll end up burning the place down.”

“What else is new?” you tease him, pressing small pecks across his cheek and trailing them down his jaw. He clicks his tongue in feigned indignation but sighs anyway, tipping his head to the side; your kisses start to linger, each touch of your lips lasting just a fraction longer than the last.

Your embrace tightens, pulling him flush to you. There’s something really endearing in the way he lets his weight fall against you, only barely steadied by his hands on your hip bones.

“But before we do,” you murmur, lips tickling at his earlobe. He slackens his jaw, lips falling apart, eyelashes fluttering. You grin to yourself. “I think you need to unwind a little – don’t you?”

Vernon lets out a softly chuckled laugh. “I think you might be right,” he agrees.

You take a few paces back from him, reaching into the pocket of your sweatpants and pulling free a length of silk, running it slowly through your fingers as you lean against the opposite wall. His eyes fall to the pearlescent material before they lift back to your own; all the tiredness seems to have been shocked clean out of him and he stares at you like all his Christmases have come at once.

“Tonight?” he asks. You can practically see his thoughts firing off at a hundred miles an hour in those beautiful, big, brown eyes. Cute. “Really?”

“Mhm,” you nod. Vernon swallows so hard that his Adam’s apple bobs. “If you want to, of cour–.”

“I do,” he says, rushing before you can even finish your sentence. “Shit, babe. Yeah – I do.”

“Come here, then,” you say.

He does. What a good boy.

“Shirt off.”

He does that, too. In one swift movement, he reaches behind his head and pulls at the collar. His upper half is quickly bare and the discarded article of clothing is little more than a scrunched ball on the hallway floor. He stands in front of you, still gazing down at the silk. You’re not oblivious to the hardness growing in his pants as his breaths get a little deeper and his chest starts staining pink in a blush, but you make no effort to do anything about it. Instead, you twirl your finger once, asking him to turn around, and he spins on his heels so he’s facing away from you.

He's even polite enough to bend his knees so that you can reach without stretching.

“S’that okay?” you ask once your fingers have tied the silk at the back of his head, tugging gently at the bow. He nods, his own hands lifting to make sure it’s secure and in place, that he can’t see anything, before he stands fully upright again. “Not too tight?”

“Perfect,” he tells you.

You walk around to his front, using this moment to really take him in. His pants sit low on his hips, as they always do, and the waistband of his boxers peeks out over the top of them. He's perfect, you think, licking over your lips at the subtle edges of muscle and every inch of smooth skin. All yours, all for the taking. I can’t wait to ruin him.

“Tell me anytime if you want me to take it off, okay?” you ask, reaching out with one hand to press your palm against his bare chest. He gasps softly at the sudden contact but quickly relaxes into it, almost falling forwards into your touch.

“I won’t want you to,” he chuckles. “But yeah. Of course.”

“Good boy,” you coo. Your thumb strokes gently over one of his exposed nipples, earning you another easily-won sharp intake of breath. A few more careful brushes and it starts to harden under your touch, your intense, hungry gaze unwitnessed by the man already totally at your mercy. His back arches just a little, seeking more, but you stop almost as quickly as you started.

Instead, your hand travels upwards, flat-palmed but agonisingly light. He's burning up, already, the loss of one of his senses so obviously heightening everything else.

Two of your fingers curl beneath the chain that decorates his collarbones, pulling at it firmly, and he stumbles forwards for real this time. You catch him with your other hand on his waist, holding him in place and looking at his parted, pink lips.

“D’you trust me?” you ask, and Vernon nods, following the sound of your voice until he’s just inches away from your own mouth. Each of his breaths feels a thousand degrees as they breeze over your face; you can’t help but lean forwards and kiss him. Just once. As a treat.

“With my life,” he whines, chasing you when you pull away. “I’m all yours, babe. Please. Use me.”

You keep your fingers hooked under his chain and use it to guide him all the way to your bedroom. He follows blindly, steps clumsy: he trips over himself a few times, slipping in his socks on the polished floor. He mumbles various unintelligible things to himself each time and you just laugh sweetly back at him, but his gracelessness only delays you by a couple of seconds. The moment you have him in your room, you uncurl your fingers from his necklace and plant both your hands on his waist, pushing him slowly down towards the bed.

“On your back,” you tell him, watching as he lies flat, both his arms fixed at his sides.

You climb on top of Vernon, for the first time really realising just how much power you hold over him, right now. He is completely at your will. With one hand planted either side of his head, you lean down over him, hovering with your lips just grazing his own. He tries to press up into the kiss but you deny him, pulling away until he falls back onto the bed with a huff.

“You’re gonna behave for me tonight, aren’t you ‘Sol?” you ask, each syllable dragging your lips across his, joining and separating them over and over. “Be really, really good?”

He nods, and when you don’t respond to the nonverbal answer, clears his throat. “Y-yeah. I promise.”

“Only because you know what’ll happen if you don’t.”

“Only ‘cause I want to,” he corrects, swallowing hard again. You grin at him, giving in to the kiss that he so desperately wants. He moans softly at it, again as you lick your way between his parted lips, again still as you suck his tongue into your mouth and ghost your teeth over the muscle.

It’s spitty and sloppy and needy on both of your ends but Vernon makes a point not to lift his arms from where they’re placed down by his thighs. He kneads at the bedding instead: grasps and releases the sheets, rubs them between his fingers so that he doesn’t completely lose himself in you and do something he shouldn’t. He really is being good, you muse. Showing real restraint. Because you know, and he knows, that he isn’t allowed to touch you until you say that he can.

You sit back from him after a little while, pulling off your own shirt and taking hold of one of his hands. He curls his fingers around yours, so deeply grateful for even this pathetic little touch.

“Here,” you sigh, and Vernon rolls his head back when you place his palm on your side, on the fabric of your bra band but not at the cup. He holds you there, thumb stroking back and forth, and when you lower yourself back down again, he’s so careful in how he tightens his grip so that he doesn’t let go.

You kiss his Adam's apple first, feeling it dip and vibrate with the moan he emits. You travel lower, then, and lower still: over his collarbone, down his chest, before your tongue flits out across one nipple, hardened from the chill in your apartment and aided by the anticipation of not knowing where you’ll touch him next. He whines at the gentle brush, biting down on his lip; you feel how his hips threaten to jolt beneath you, but his concentration is written all over his face and you just know he’s anchoring them down with all his might. You blow a slow stream of cool air over the bud, one hand moving down to toy with the other side of his chest.

He’s always been so sensitive, here. Always keening and gasping as you tweak his nipples and suck them into your mouth. You tug one between your teeth, at the same time wiggling your hips down to better position yourself over his cock. It’s straining so much against his work pants and you think if he gets any harder, he’ll burst through the seams. A high-pitched whine tumbles through his defences at the combined sensations, and you roll down against him again, again, again until he’s grasping at your bra for dear life.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask him, voice low and quiet.

“Need more,” he says. “Please — fuck. Fuck, I need more.”

You click your tongue at him. “Such a nasty word from such a pretty mouth.” With a frown, you sit upright and press two of your fingers against his lips. He parts them for you but immediately closes his mouth around your digits, suckling on them, licking over them, groaning at the weight of them when you grab his jaw with your thumb and ring finger, pressing his tongue back down in his mouth. “Be good, okay?”

He nods, his jaw a little slack even when you pull your fingers away, a string of his spit keeping you connected until it breaks and falls onto his chin. It stays that way even when you move off him, even when you start unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down. He helps, lifting his hips, kicking them off and over the side of the bed, ready to be forgotten, all the while not closing his mouth. You position yourself between his calves, just out of reach of his hands, and trail your fingers over the insides of his thighs.

“You want more, huh?” you ask, watching as Vernon nods again, so desperately, the blindfold staying secure and unmoving even as the bow at the back shifts against your bedsheets. His jaw is so tense, the muscles at the joint are practically bulging. you’d feel bad for him if he wasn’t so damn pretty when he got worked up.

“Please,” he pants, muscles twitching under your touch. When you lean down and kiss the inside of his thigh, right where that adorable freckle embellishes his skin, he jerks enough that he almost plants his knee into your jaw. “M’sorry — it-… it all feels so much more sensitive today-” he says, all rushed and hurried. You kiss his thighs over and over, licking your way upwards, pecking just below his belly-button and dragging the tips of your nails down his sides. God, his cock is hardly even concealed beneath his brilliant white boxers; he might as well not be wearing any with the outline so clear and obvious. A small translucent patch is even starting to form where his tip strains against them.

“I know, baby,” you grin. “It's okay. Can we take these off, too?”

He wordlessly lifts his hips up for you again so you can work his last remaining article of clothing off his scorching body. His length bounces free the second it possibly can, thick and leaking, and he groans at the relief of finally escaping the elasticated confines.

I could just leave him like this, you think to yourself, relishing in everything that makes the man lying in front of you so perfectly himself. Every single hair, standing on end, at attention to you. Every dip and curve and bump and bruise and scar. You could stare at him all day. But he’s growing impatient behind that blindfold, no matter what his perfectly well mannered hands and near-silent mouth would have you believe. As much as you want to just sit here and visually appreciate him, you think maybe it won’t hurt to physically do so, too.

It’s a fair stretch, but you manage to lean over him to open your bedside drawer and pull free a small bottle of flavoured lube. You squeeze a little into your palm, and he inhales a few times: even though you can only see two thirds of his face, you can practically feel him trying to figure out what the fragrance he can smell is, all of a sudden.

“Strawberry?” he murmurs after a moment, and you hum acknowledgement, taking his cock in your hand. He sighs, hips lifting to thrust himself further into the circle your fist makes; you freeze mid-stroke until he settles them back against the bed.

“That’s it,” you encourage, languidly starting to pump over his length as he lets out more sweet little moans and whimpers, teeth so tight around his bottom lip that the skin around them pales. “Let it out, baby.”

He releases his lip almost straight away, gasping a moan of your name, his fists balling at the bed sheets instead to ground him.

“How’s that feel?” you ask, jerking him off a little faster, moving your wrist in the way you know he likes. When he only nods up at you, you squeeze your fingers just enough that he stutters out a grunt.

“So good,” he sighs, licking out over his lips. “Feels-... feels like heaven.”

You hum, fondly smiling ear-to-ear (not that he can see this, but you both know he’s visualising your face right now whether his eyes are trained on it or not). “Fitting for an angel, huh?”

Over the course of the next few minutes, your speed increases until he honestly can’t quiet the noises you so eagerly want him to make. Alongside the lewd sounds of the lube in your palm sliding up and down his cock, over and over and over, his whimpers and pleas grow louder. He re-grasps the sheets in his fingers, spewing out a string of expletives.

“M’gonna-...” he starts, swallowing hard, and you start to slow your movements just enough to make him hiss. His voice, when he speaks again, almost seems to be laced with panic at the thought of not being allowed to finish. “Please – oh, please, you’ve gotta let me come.”

“Do I?” you ask, pouting condescendingly down at him. He can either hear it in your voice, or he just knows you well enough to have guessed exactly what your face is doing right now. Either way, he groans, his own lips jutting out to match your expression as he throws his head back.

“Please,” he tries again, a little deeper this time. As if he’s trying to be commanding when he begs you. As if he could ever stop you playing with him, like this. (As if he’d ever really want to.)

“Not yet,” you say, slowing and softening more until your movements are barely-there. “Hold on, for me.”

Miraculously, he does. even when you bring him to the edge again and immediately drop your pace — he mewls at you and rolls his head back and almost chokes on the spit collecting in his mouth, but he doesn't let go. It’s taking everything he has, you can tell. The pretty vein that runs up the side of his neck bulges. His forehead grows damp with sweat. His cock twitches and throbs in your hand and is so hard you’re sure it must be bordering on painful for him. But he holds on.

After half an hour, after denying him of his orgasm for the fourth time, you can’t help but feel a bit of pity for Vernon; he looks positively wrecked, writhing with every pump of your fist, his voice dry and hoarse. And maybe it’s a little self-indulgent, when you finally stop teasing him: maybe you can't deny that this is destroying you, too. The weight of him in your hand is satisfying, but the need you have to be stretched out on his cock is almost unbearable.

You undress yourself as he comes back down from the brink, drying off his forehead on the back of his arm. Your clothes join his on the floor and positioning one leg over his hips, you bend down low to kiss his lips.

He presses up into it so hard he almost breaks his own nose.

“I need you, baby,” you tell him, cupping his cheek. His hands instinctively come to settle on your hips. “I want you to fill me up. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yeah,” he breathes, just the idea of finally being able to get his dick wet seemingly wiping away the brain matter he uses to form coherent sentences. “I can...”

“Do you want this off?” you ask, fingers playing with the bottom of the blindfold.

He shakes his head, almost as if he’s offended that you’d ask. “No – please,” he hurries, gripping your hips tighter. “Leave it on. Wanna-... wanna fuck you with it-... wanna know how it feels…”

“Okay,” you agree, kissing the corner of his lips before grinding your pussy down over his leaking cock. The heat between your legs and the slickness of your folds as they drag against his length does something so deeply sinful to Vernon: he reaches up behind your back, pulls you down towards him, buries his head in your shoulder and sounds like he’s about to sob.

“I don’t know how long I’m gonna-...” he tries to warn you, another smooth roll of your hips cutting him off. He groans into your skin, practically drooling for you. “Oh my God – you’re so wet.”

“It's what you do to me, ‘sol,” you laugh.

He thrusts his hips up to meet yours, and it’s your turn to stutter out a breath. His leaking head grazes your throbbing, neglected clit and you don’t have it in you to tell him to keep still. You let him fuck against you for a few seconds longer, selfishly relishing in the momentary fractions of relief, but enough is enough when you need him inside you so badly it stings and you lift yourself away from him, much to Vernon’s dismay.

“You’ll last until I tell you that you can come,” you instruct him. “Do you understand?”

He swallows thickly and slides his hands down your back, pressing his fingertips into your ass, but he does nod his assent anyway.

“I’ll try,” he says, slowing his breathing, preparing himself. The poor sweetheart always nearly comes apart the second he feels your walls hugging him.

“You’ll succeed.”

You don’t give him the time to respond as you take his length in your hand and position it at your entrance, slowly sinking down onto his cock, your cunt stretching to accommodate his size. it punches the air out of both of your lungs after the build-up; his sensitivity and you finally now feeling that delicious fullness renders both of you completely silent. You lower yourself until he’s fully tucked away inside you, until you’re sitting atop of his thighs, and suddenly you’re the impatient one. You want to feel him drag against your walls, want to feel him pounding up into you so hard it rearranges your guts. But you’re not that mean. You wait a few seconds for his abs to relax and for his fingers to stop grasping your ass so ruthlessly before your thighs start to work you up and down in deep, long movements.

Truthfully, you’re really not expecting this to last very long at all, so Vernon surprises you when he holds himself together beneath you long enough for the knot to start tying itself low in your stomach. He doesn’t thrust up into you, nor does he bounce you up and down on his length the way he sometimes does. It’s self preservation, really, but you can convince yourself he’s just being on his best behaviour if you want to (but it’s kind of hard to care too much when his gorgeous cock is pressing so deeply into you that you can feel it in your stomach).

“You feel so good, Sollie,” you gasp for him, changing the angle of your hips and feeling his tip graze across the spot that sends your hips into disrepair and your brain into a frenzy. If you weren’t kneeling, you think you’d collapse. “You fill me up so well, oh my God.”

“Mhm,” he nods, squeaky and quiet. His fingers grip your hips tighter, the sharp lines of nails pressing in. You don’t care that it stings: you’re beyond playing, now.

“You wanna come so bad right now, don’t you?” you ask.

“On-only when-...” he swallows hard, feeling you bouncing a little faster. His chest is all pink and splotchy, his neck sweaty and tense. “When you say I can-...”

“I think you’ve earned-... earned it, don’t you?”

“You think so?” He asks. You nod, forgetting for a second in your bliss that he can’t hear you until he asks again. “You really think I have?”

“Yes, baby,” you tell him, squeezing your walls around him and feeling his hips make that first frantic jolt up to meet your own. You hold yourself still, dragging your nails down his chest, leaving harsh lines in their wake. “Want you to come for me. Want you to fuck me full.”

“Shit,” he whimpers, fucking up into you again. And again, and again, and again. Over and over, faster and faster, holding you harshly in place as he chases after the release you’ve been dangling in front of his covered eyes since he came home from work. Hell, since you mentioned blindfolding him in the bedroom in the first place all those weeks ago. He can’t control himself, head back against the pillows, moaning your name out loud as his orgasm hits him like a fucking train.

You aren’t far behind: by the time his thrusts slow, you’re coming down from your own Earth-shattering high, thighs burning but feeling so deliciously full. He continues pressing into you, trying his best to keep fucking his cum into your hole even though it dribbles out and pools at the base of his cock. You’re bent down over him by the time you’ve ridden out your climax, forehead on his collarbone, feeling him soften inside you but still not pulling himself out.

“You did so good, ‘Sol,” you breathe, easing your fingers behind his head and untying the knot that keeps you from looking into those gorgeous eyes you love so much. He lets you, this time, and the silk falls away onto the pillows as he blinks up at you. His lashes are a little dewy, his eyes glassy and sweet in his post-orgasm bliss.

He looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, except that can’t be. All of them are right here in front of you.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs, hugging you close. “Thank you, y/n.”

You can’t help but chuckle at him. “Thank you for trusting me, silly.”

“Always will,” he hums, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “With my life.”

“Well. Thank you for that, too.”

He slowly pulls himself out of you after a handful of minutes, grunting softly at the loss of your heat and his sensitivity. One of his hands lightly taps against your ass and you start to sit, begin moving off him so you can both go and clean off, but he doesn’t let you get too far.

“Where are you going?” he asks, frowning, his hand gripping your ass harder.

“Well, seeing as I’m literally dripping cum all over the bedsheets right now-...” you start, raising a brow at him. He tugs you, then, as if to pull your hips up towards him, as if to guide you up the bed. You shuffle slightly, unsure, but when he can reach, both his hands wrap around you and he pulls you up so your leaking cunt is sat right over his waiting lips.

Okay. Maybe now he’s looking at you like you hung all the stars.

“You really are, aren’t you?” he asks, nosing your inner thigh, one hand sliding in-between your legs. An elegant finger plays with his cum, smearing it over your lips, a grin forming on his own when his eyes leave your pussy and lift back up to meet yours. “I’ll be good, baby, I promise. Please. Let me help.”

thank u so much for reading! likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all always so appreciated<3

#vernon smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #choi hansol smut #hansol smut #chwe vernon smut #vernon x reader #j writes.#*#well. there's that itch scratched. good + bye😭

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fayes-fics · 1 year

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Innocence Pt I

Innocence Series Masterpost

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgteron x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict teaches his intended what he can do with his mouth. First in a series following on from Temptation.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, innocence kink, dirty talk, sex education, nipple play, oral sex (m to f)

Word count: 4.0k

Authors note: welcome to this first in a new series of fics that follow on from Temptation! Thanks to @makaylan for beta read. I hope you all enjoy! <3

You wake to what sounds like hail. But it can’t be. There is silence again, then after a short while, a pitter-patter on glass.

Hail doesn’t sound like that.

You pad out of bed and go to the window, pushing aside the heavy silk drape to look out.

It’s not raining, in fact, it’s a clear night, and the moon is throwing stark shadows. Just as you’re wondering what the noise could have been, you spy some gravel on your windowsill and movement below. Stepping into a moonbeam is the face of your now-intended Benedict Bridgerton.

You quickly throw up the sash window.

“What are you doing here?” you hiss down at him, glancing around nervously to ensure he has not been seen.

“Do you share a room?” He calls up softly.

“No...” you frown, “why?”

“Excellent, I’m coming up,” is all he says before you startle at the physical prowess he displays, effortlessly scaling a thick drainpipe and swinging himself onto the mini balcony in the middle of your room. He is clad in a ruffled shirt and trousers on this warm summer evening.

You hurry over and push aside those curtains, yanking open the French doors and almost tumble against him. You breathe his name, and his lips capture yours in a searing passionate kiss—your insides fizzing from the illicit thrill that he has come to visit you in the dead of night.

“I had to see you again,” he explains, lips peppering across your face, his arms wrapped tight around your waist.

“But the ball only finished a few hours ago,” you point out, the last word dying off as he gently bites your earlobe, silently chastising yourself for stating the obvious.

“And I have been thinking about you ever since,” he rasps in your ear. “Your scent and taste on my fingers is too much to bear. I had to see you.” The tinge of desperation and passion in his voice catches your breath. “I need more of you; I need to teach you more things. Right now,” he says fiercely.

“Benedict,” you stutter and cling to him as he walks you back into your bedroom, his kiss hot and heavy again.

“Does your door lock?” he asks softly, ghosting over your lips as he manoeuvres you towards your bed.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Is it locked right now?“ his tone gets even lower.

“Yes,” it’s barely audible.

He cups your face in his hands. “Good.” He says the word languorous and decadently, and you feel something inside you catch fire. “Are you ready to learn some new things?” A finger traces the bow of your lips as he asks.

“Yes, husband,” it’s fervent and breathy.

“I’m not your husband yet,” he simpers. “If I were, you would be screaming my name about now.”

“Like… like that servant lady did... that I saw in the gardens?”

“Just like that,” a hand smears down your throat to rest on the expanse of skin above the neckline of your nightgown, “you would feel so good you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself.”

You feel your heart hammering against your chest right below his warm palm.

He moves you both slowly until he sits on the edge of your bed, pulling you to stand between his legs, him looking up at you with a knowing smile.

“Remember I said I’d teach you what we can do with our mouths?” His voice is silken as his fingers trail lightly over the top of your breast, along the edge of your white cotton nightgown.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Well, tonight, you are going to find out what I can do with mine,” he states, as one blunt fingernail scrapes lightly over the fabric, snagging against your nipple.

Your breath catches, and you rock towards his touch.

“I love how responsive you are.” It's gravelly as his other hand mirrors the action, the thin layer of cotton doing little to dull the sensation.

Then his hands are gone, rounding your bum, his head pitches forward, and you moan as you feel wet heat on your left nipple as he opens his mouth around it, soaking the fabric with his saliva and flicking the point of his tongue against you. Your skin pulls taut, puckering hard against his questing movements. It’s a flash of pleasure that races to your core. His mouth closes up, sucking hard as he scrapes an edge of teeth around your hardened nub, clamping down just enough that you squirm against the firm hold he has on your bottom, your body bowed against him.

“Benedict,” you murmur, feeling drunken, the wet fabric dragging delightfully against your stiff peak.

“Mmm, do you like what my mouth can do to you, my love?”

“Yesssss,” you hiss as he moves across to your other nipple to treat it the same.

“I feel funny again,” you whisper.

“Tell me in detail, darling,” he tutors, pulling away from you a fraction to speak, the warmth of his breath over the wet fabric making you break out into goosebumps.

“My lips feel hot, my nipples feel tingly, and I have an ache between my legs,” you catalogue honestly.

He lets out a resonant sound, the vibration of which skitters across your skin.

“That is desire, my love,” he says quietly, “your body telling you it wants me.”

“I want you very much,” you confirm quickly.

“I know you do. I will give you what you need,” his voice rich and low.

“What will you do to me this time?” you pant, anticipation burning.

“Remember how I touched you between your legs? How I put my fingers inside you?”

“Yes.”

“I'm going to kiss you there,” his tone is dark and glittery.

“With… with your mouth?” you swallow audibly.

“Oh yes,” he chuckles.

“But… but I didn't see the servants do that,” you stumble, trying to understand why he would do such a thing.

“What you saw is only a fraction, my love,” he smirks. “There are so many, many things we can do together. And one of them is me kissing you between your legs.” He smiles at you and tenderly brushes a lock of hair over your shoulder. “You will enjoy it very much, I promise. Do you enjoy it when I run my tongue into your mouth when we kiss?”

“Yes, it feels wonderful,” you breathe, curling your fingers around his broad shoulders, the warmth of his skin seeping through his shirt.

“Well, it will feel even better when I run my tongue inside you… down here.” His voice drops almost an octave as one hand slides from your bottom to the front of your gown, where your thighs meet.

“You want to do that?” your voice incredulous.

“Very much so. I can run my tongue in places you may have never seen yet. But don't worry. Before we are married, you will see all of your body in a mirror. When I teach you exactly how to touch yourself,” it's whispered hotly against your skin, fingers swirling over your pubic hair through your nightgown.

“Will that be tonight?” you ask quickly, eager to know everything he is willing to share.

“I think when I am done kissing between your legs, you will want to sleep.” he smiles smugly, “and it gives me an excuse to return another night. Would you like that? For me to sneak back to you in the middle of the night?”

“Yes, please,” you sway in his grip.

“Mmm, I thought so. Now, let's take off your nightgown,” he says silkily, a hand tugging gently on the hem, bringing it up over your knees.

“I'm not wearing anything else,” you chew your lip gently.

“That's precisely what I want to hear,” he sighs unevenly. “Now take it off for me,” he encourages.

You cross your arms and whip the nightgown up and over your head, sailing onto the bed beside him.

He inhales sharply as you stand utterly naked before him.

“Do I look acceptable to you, husband-to-be?” you inquire nervously, biting your lips and watching his eyes slowly perusing your body.

You can almost feel the weight of his heated gaze. Perhaps subconsciously, he peeks his tongue out and licks his lower lip.

“Oh my love, you are so perfect for me,” his voice soft, fingers wrapping around your waist, then mapping the flare of your hips.

His lips return to your breasts; this time no cotton to separate, just the heat and suction of his mouth. You keen loudly at the extra sensation, and his fingers dig into the back of your thighs, pulling you closer against him. One of your knees nudges up to a bulge in his trousers, and he surges against your leg as his tongue swirls around your nipple.

“Your skin tastes sweet,” he moans, suckling hard, pulling you into a tighter embrace, enveloping your body.

There is now a fire in your core, molten hot, and you feel a drip onto your inside thigh.

“Benedict,” you call softly, “my thighs are sticky again.”

He groans, and his teeth graze you.

“I’ll never tire of you telling me that,” he gusts. You feel fingers sink into your public hair and then down further. “But tell me you are wet for me instead, darling.”

“I am wet for you, Benedict,”

“God, yes you are,” he growls, parting your folds.

He rubs an achingly slow circle around your clit as he bites down on each nipple in turn, not quite to the point of pain but dancing near it, your knees wanting to buckle. You hiss and run your hands into his hair, gripping it in your fist.

You squeak as he suddenly lets go and bands his arms around your thighs, picking you off the ground and collapsing back onto the bed, so you lay atop him, something hard and insistent pushing against your abdomen. He captures your lips with his, rolling until you are under him, diagonal on the bed.

“Oh…”

It's all you can muster at the potent sensation of being so surrounded, his warm weight pinning you down onto the mattress. He pulls your legs open and either side of his.

“How does this feel, my darling?” he asks, kissing your cheek and slowly thrusting his clothed body against the apex of your thighs.

“You feel so… so overwhelming,” you answer candidly, fingertips exploring the muscles on his back and biting your lip.

“Mmmm, good. Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Now. Here is where you learn what else my mouth can do,” Benedict’s voice is sinful, a crooked smile spreading over his face.

His lips slide down onto your neck and over your collarbone, dropping hot little kisses that make your skin feel afire. He maps the length of your breastbone with his tongue, achingly slow, leaving a trail of wetness that cools on your skin and makes you shiver, your hands now fisting the sheets around you, flexing with the sensations coursing through your body.

Your breath quickens as he gently nibbles down along your lowest rib, biting the flesh of your side at the dip of your waist, making you writhe at the strange, not quite ticklish, not quite painful sensation. Large warm hands press your hipbones down into the mattress, keeping you still as that tongue swirls patterns over the soft swell of your belly, pausing at your belly button to look up at you.

“How does it feel to have my mouth on your body, fiancée?” He looks up at you with pupils blown; his voice is low and dangerous, pitched to buzz all the way to your core.

“Wonderful,” you sigh in a heavy breath; your nipples crave to be touched again, the ache between your legs flaring hard as the frill of his shirt tickles against your clit.

With his chin resting on your belly, he reaches over to release your vice-like grip on the bedding and brings your right hand to his mouth, suddenly enveloping your pointer and ring finger. You stutter at the sucking on your skin and the swirling of his tongue. He pulls off them with a lascivious wet noise, then guides them to your nipples.

“Touch yourself, darling,” he murmurs, “I can tell you need it.”

You do as asked, and he makes a prideful sound as you gasp and your body flexes under him.

“Mmm, that’s just a preview of what you’ll learn when I teach you how to pleasure yourself,”

“It feels so good, Benedict,” you sigh, “but not as good as your mouth,” you add as a cheeky retort.

His deep chuckle into your skin makes you clench as he inches lower, his mouth feeling so hot. His nose trails into the patch of hair between your legs, and he inhales loudly, almost lewd.

“There it is,” he rumbles, “that delicious smell that has haunted me all evening. I can’t wait to have a real taste.”

You are breathing in short puffs as his knees slide off the bed, and he drags you bodily by the hips to the edge, your shoulders catching slightly on the rucked sheets. He splays your thighs wide apart, your feet resting on his shoulders.

“Look at me,” he demands softly, waiting until you meet his gaze framed by your thighs. “Grab a pillow, darling; I want you to watch me do this to you.”

You do as asked, enjoying the little smile twitching on his lips as you obey his instructions.

“Good girl,” he intones, and something hot and liquid races down your spine at the way he says it.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He smirks. “I just saw your nostrils flare and your pupils dilate; it seems you like it when I call you a…. good girl” you inhale sharply as the last two words are muffled against your flesh as he then envelopes your clitoral hood and sucks hard.

“Oh my god,” you cry out unbidden.

“Shhh, darling, we mustn’t wake the house remember?” He menaces against your warm wet folds, his expression so cocky.

“What are you doing to me?” you query in a loud whisper.

“Do you remember how I touched you here with my thumb earlier? Well, this little nub here…” he pauses to spear the tip of his tongue lightly against your clit, and you stutter even at that feather-light touch. “...It’s the most sensitive spot on your whole body, my love, and it responds to many sensations.” You breathe gustily out of your nose and bite your lip.

“I can lick…” he flattens his tongue and licks a wide strip against it as you keen, your teeth digging into your lip almost painfully.

“Swirl…” the tongue rotates around the spot hitting from the sides as well, a curl of desire unfurling heavy inside.

“Suck…” again, he pulls your flesh between his lips and sucks the bud; you cry quietly, your back arching.

“Even gently bite….” You have no warning as he replaces his lips, holding your swollen nub between his top and bottom teeth; all the while, he stares into your eyes.

You pant heavily at the heavy pulse you feel right at that spot.

“... All to make you feel good. Do you feel good?” He asks, releasing you from his mouth.

“God, yes,” you rush out, desperate for more.

“Now that is just your little pleasure button,” his lecture continues, and you watch his face sink lower, “I can also do this.”

You gasp loudly as he part your folds, and then something warm and wet spears inside your body where his fingers had been earlier tonight—it can only be his tongue.

“This, my love, is your cunt. Say it for me,” he tutors.

“Cunt,” you repeat, and he seems to delight in making you say it.

“It is the source of all this wonderful juicy wetness dripping down your thighs,” he explains before pressing into you again, going deeper, swirling against all your walls.

“I can’t believe you are doing this,” your voice shocked.

“Oh, I could do this all night. You taste delicious,” he assures.

He swirls a finger around your opening, then reaches up to your mouth with a long toned arm.

“Open up darling, taste yourself,” he commands softly. And you do, letting his fingers slip between your lips, a tart-sweet taste blooming on your tongue. “Do you like it?” he asks duskily.

“It’s okay,” you respond truthfully. “Will you taste the same?”

He huffs a laugh at your question. “No, my sweet. A lady tastes different to a man—you will find out very soon.”

“Do all ladies taste the same?” you inquire, curious.

“No,” he admits, “but all that matters is that you taste wonderful to me,” he assures, kissing your inner thigh with soft, warm lips “do you have any more questions? I want to ensure you ask everything you want to know.”

“Will you run your tongue anywhere else?” you wonder aloud.

“Every single place—from the tips of your fingers to the end of your toes and everywhere in between,” he promises huskily.

A finger traces lower, between your bum cheeks.

“Not tonight, but sometime in the future, I will run my tongue back here too, and you will love it,” he says quietly in a way that tells you it’s more taboo.

You shiver at the thought, knowing you will let him do anything to you.

“Once we are married, we can do other wonderful things with your little bottom. I know you love every single one. But tonight, let’s make sure you enjoy my mouth, my love.”

Those are his last words before strong arms encircle your thighs, holding you open in a firm grip. He ploughs his tongue heavily up from your cunt, as he called it, back up to your clit again.

You call out loudly at the heady wash of sensation.

“Shhhh darling, please, I don’t want us to get caught,” he reminds.

Your hand scrabbles across the bed until you find your discarded nightgown. You bring it to your mouth and ball it up slightly and shove one corner into your mouth.

He stops and looks up the plane of your body, surprised. “Did you just gag yourself?” There’s an undercurrent in his voice that makes your cheeks blush.

You nod slowly.

“Oh, we will have so much fun once we are married,” he growls, “well done on that, my clever girl. Now you can scream all you want.”

His tongue spears wet and questing against your clit, swirling narrow circles. You can't think of anything but the movement of his talented face against you, the slight stubble on his face tickling the soft sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

Without thought, your hands run into his luscious hair, gripping around his head, directing his movements as your legs fall further apart, pushing yourself against his mouth, his nose, wanting him to be buried inside you.

“Mmm, see, you are already an expert at asking for what you want.” he chuckles deeply, the hum of his voice making you cry against the material in your mouth.

He ploughs lower, spearing into your channel, his nose nudging your clit. You breathe laboriously through your nose and hear him panting against you as he furrows on, rhythmically plunging his tongue into your cunt, lapping everything up.

Behind your gag, you are chanting his name, scarcely believing that something like this is possible. Nothing you have ever experienced feels as heady as this. The heat of his mouth, the noises he is making, the visceral strength and size of his tongue inside you. If this is just his mouth, you are uncertain you will be able to handle the cock that you saw earlier entering you.

The gag feels slightly uncomfortable in your mouth, which heightens the thrill. Benedict is doing this to you in your parent's home, your mother sleeping just down the hallway, taking your innocence and giving you pleasure before they have even been formally introduced. You told them you had received a proposal, but they are not due to meet until the Smythson Ball in two days when your father returns from a business trip.

He moves back to sucking your clit hard between his lips, swirling, teasing, varying the pressure and speed of his tongue, then using a little edge of his teeth to nip at the tip. You cry against your gag, and he holds your hips firmly as you thrash against the white-hot spike of desire that hits you.

He intensifies his efforts, making debauched encouraging noises as he pulls your swollen bud hard into his mouth.

“Don't stop, please just don't stop,” you sob, chasing something even more intense than you experienced earlier from his fingers, but it's just a whining noise around the material, soaking up all your saliva.

“You are so close, aren't you, come on, my love,” he encourages, “let me feel it, give me more of you to taste.” his little soft plea pushing you closer.

You grip his hair, every muscle in your body tenses, dangling over a precipice, every fibre of your being taut and shaking.

Then with one pass of his teeth over your clit you are breaking. Your world contracting and exploding all at once. Heartbeat wild in your throat, a rush of blood in your ears, eyes clamped shut. Your hips cant up high, and he lets you, his movements matching yours, so his mouth never leaves your body. You know you are leaking onto his face, your inside clenching powerfully, wanting the feeling of something filling you as his fingers did. The burning pulsing ache around your clit makes you scream, yell and convulse, all of it muffled to barely a sound being emitted.

You collapse onto the mattress panting hard, and pull the gag from your mouth, dimly aware he is crawling up your body, laying down softly next to you. You stare at the ceiling for what feels like an eternity, returning slowly to your body, to the moment.

“Did you enjoy my mouth, darling?” he smirks, knowing the answer, licking his lips lasciviously.

“You know I did,” you giggle, flipping onto your side to face him. “Is it not your turn, fiancé?” You whisper, running your hands down his clothed body, desperate to feel his skin, touch and explore the way he has to you.

“My clothes stay on tonight,” he insists with a gentle head shake.

“Let me touch you,” you implore, your hand running over the prominent bulge in his trousers. He groans hungrily but grabs your wrist away.

“You will learn exactly what to do with my cock very soon,” he promises, “but not tonight, darling.”

“But does it not hurt if it’s…” you look at him expectantly for the correct adjective.

“Hard…” he prompts.

“…If it’s hard and you don’t touch it?” you reason.

He smiles. “Sort of. But I will deal with it later.”

“What will you do?” wanting to know everything, your mind filled with images of his hand on his cock earlier, spilling his seed onto your body.

“What you saw me do before,” he says softly, caressing your cheek.

“I want to watch again,” you pout playfully, hoping for a repeat performance.

“You are so wanton. I love that.” He tilts his forehead against yours, and you smell yourself on his face.

“Can I help you with my mouth on your cock?” you whisper boldly.

He makes a strangled noise, and his whole body seems to flex involuntarily, making you relish the thought. “Yes. Soon.”

“If not tonight, when? When will that be?” your tone is bright and determined.

“The night of the Smythson ball. In two days. Until then, my sweet, I shall take my leave. Stay here in bed and sleep well.”

He kisses you deeply, your taste still potent on his lips and tongue. He keeps kissing until your mind goes fuzzy, then springs to his feet quickly, disappearing out the French doors and, you assume, shimmying down the drainpipe. You don't see; you just lie on the bed staring at the ceiling in a daze, knowing you will never be the same again.

Two days will feel like an eternity.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months

Note

Hi, Miss Raven! What're your thoughts on the new characters' designs and the new cards we're getting?

[You can see the designs for the Halloween 2023 cards and other related TWST news here!]

I'll post my general thoughts below! I unfortunately don't know enough about Pinocchio myself to point out all the little easter eggs in their outfits, so I'll leave that to those who are more knowledgeable than me.

***Spoilers below the cut!!***

Regarding the NRC boys' looks overall, I think it's a very fun theme and very fitting for the location of the event. I like that they all still wear masks, just in a different context than in Glorious Masquerade. One thing I did notice is that the masks seem... same-y? Like they all resemble thick tree roots or something like that. So maybe they aren't masks at all, but they're associated with whatever the conflict in the story is. (I previously suggested mind control or the loss of consciousness, so maybe the "roots" play into that???) You can see the marionette theme Yana was going for, as well as some design elements from Black Butler's circus arc, very clearly. The poses for each of the boys, even the R cards, are extremely dynamic and imply a strong sense of movement. The ribbons are such a simple detail that contributes a lot to this sense of whimsy and flow.

Some comments I have on specific designs and poses:

Suspenders are so... Trey 💀 THERE'S REALLY NOTHING ELSE FOR ME TO ADD HERE, THEY JUST SUIT HIM

I like it when Trey makes these kind of slightly sus but plausibly deniable faces... He should make more of them...

I can't see the front of Jack's outfit that well, so I don't know if I can fully comment on it??? But I can see his. Like. Physique... coming through... That chest to waist ratio/j

Seeing Jack's tail like that kinda weirds me out. I think that's the first time we've gotten a "full" view of how the tails look coming out of the pants??? So maybe I'll get more used to it with time...

J WORD MY BELOVED dghgqwktvwukdviu1vdutw1513FR7vuofOTVUofvfaafvfyivs.,bk;mobsdb;ibuafetvuqoffSEythTOTqebivfguovqnafCUtuiUIEtt please ignore my bias 🤡 The way his top hat is angled and how there's a dark blue ribbon around him... It vaguely looks like he's trying to pass as Crowley, LOL

I like how his undershirt is frilled and how he has that sash at his waist it reminds me of the genderbent design for my TWST OC! The fact that both he and Floyd have the eel emblem that resembles a heart is also really cute~

Lilis is my favorite design of the R cards!! There's a very good distribution of ruffles throughout the look, and his knotted skirts fit well with his personal flair.

I'm not a huge fan of the style of hat Cater's wearing (sorry to all the Cay-kun stans out there), but I can appreciate his look. His dress appears more militant than Trey's, and his posing is certainly more aggressive--it's nice to see him in this new light.

FHIBBAILAIBASIADIHBLBUDB EVERY TIME I SEE L*ONA NOW I'M GOING TO THINK OF THE ONE REBLOG I SAW THAT SAID "of course leona has his tits out again" BECAUSE THEY'RE RIGHT, HE'S LITERALLY THE GIRLIE THAT DRESSES SLUTTY ON HALLOWEEN AND SOMEHOW NEVER GETS COLD 😭 You go, king... Live your best life!!

Love L*ona-san’s new hairstyle here!! 👀

The way Floyd is posed reminds me of those people that walk around on stilts. I think I much prefer the coloration on Floyd's outfit than on Jade's, but I prefer Floyd's jacket to Jade's. I think Floyd's the best of the SR designs!

Shockingly, Vil's look doesn't stand out to me that much??? I enjoy his sash, but I don't immediately pick up on anything in his illustration that catches my eye.

His pose resembles that of a ballerina, which just makes me think about the time he assigned Epel and Deuce extra (ballet) dance lessons in book 5 ajdbhasivldsadued

Of the SSRs, Ace is definitely my favorite one. He just looks so dramatic soaking up that spotlight and trying to look cool while doing it... Bro's 100% thinking, "heheheheh, I'm SO awesome :))" in his head.

Ace's design also reminds me a lot of Jack Hearts (from Disney Villain Recruiters). Not sure if it was intentional or not, but I'm definitely super into it!

HHNNNNNGNGHGHHGHGNGNGHHGHGHGHGHHHHH I WANNA BITE HIS HEAD OFF AND BULLY HIM SO BAD, I WANNA WIPE THAT SMIRK OF FHIS DUMB FACEe Am I seriously about to revert back to my Brat Loving era for Trappola... Maybe so...

I was pretty much expecting a SSR Ace (because he's a trickster with a brother that works in an amusement park) and Ortho (literally a robot that became a real boy), but Kalim took me by surprise. In hindsight, I guess it makes sense though...? Kalim has a similar immature vibe as the other two (plus I do remember there being this one scene in Aladdin where the Sultan was dressed like a jester that was being maneuvered on puppet strings).

It's great that Kalim gets to be a little out of his usual element and make darker, more mysterious expressions like what we see in his new illustration. I'm not sure if I entirely agree with how he's dressed (the yellow jacket is WAY too bright), but I love his his coattails (???) trail behind him in waves.

OR-KUN MY SON 😭😭😭 As is the case with all of his gears, I adore how the devs creatively adapted clothing into metal parts for Ortho! The half-caplet is easily the best part of the whole look for me (the pattern on it reminds me of stars falling down)--and because Ortho has a smaller stature, the type of hat he's wearing isn't as offputting; it actually looks very cute on him.

ANYWAY, VERY HAPPY THAT ORTHO GETS TO HAVE A HALLOWEEN SSR TO MATCH HIS BROTHER'S HALLOWEEN SSR FROM LAST YEAR... They match!!!

... Is that the fucking cricket on Ortho’s cape... and the goldfish on Kalim’s scarf… AND THE CAT ON ACE’S WAIST… What does this meeeean 🤡

And now for my thoughts on the two new boys!! Honestly?? I don't actually have much to comment on in this regard because I try to reserve my judgment of characters until I've actually seen them in action. I haven't seen Pinocchio either, so I don't have a strong basis for what their personalities would be like based on their original Disney counterpart. I only vaguely understand that Honest John and Gideon trick children into visiting Pleasure Island... That's it, that's the full extent of my knowledge on that pair. I don't have any other expectations going in other than "yeah, these two are going to swindle me".

Gidel looks like a mix of Cheka and Ruggie to me (because of the hair and the eye shape). He seems like he’ll be the other guy’s goon, similar to how Jade and Floyd/Ruggie follow Azul/Leona. Nothing else for me to add, Gidel seems alright… Just a silly lil’ guy!

I have more… mixed thoughts on Ferro. One one hand, he looks like the exact kind of shady bitch I’d love. (You know, the ones that smile and lie and manipulate and drive a knife into your back and—LOOK, HE’S VERY J WORD CORE) On the other hand, I’m beating back the “you like cat/dog boys” allegations from my friends, so 💀 I can’t give in so easily/j

Looks-wise, Ferro’s iteration of the rat tail hair is not as ugly to me as Malleus’s is. (I think it’s because it looks more windswept!) I also really like how he dresses—very dapper 😌 and he can pull off green eyeshadow well!

I’m wondering how they’ll make Ferro different than the other con artists we’ve seen so far *eyes Octavinelle* but I’m keeping my hopes up since the devs did a good job remixing the “I have a dead brother and I feel immense guilt about it” backstory for Rollo (when Idia had a similar one). Looking forward to that~

I’m sure my thoughts will chance once I actually get to see them in the event! ^^ I’ll keep you posted. For now, I’ll keep cautious. (Actually, this fan art basically summarizes my current feelings on the two! I’m Rollo/j)

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vinnoa-articles · 9 months

Text

Unlucky(?) Wandering

[Gif from ONE PIECE by Eiichiro Oda]

Rating: +18, you have been warned. If you are a minor, leave now.

Word count: 3,325

Type: Smut

Characters: reader (AFAB), Zoro, mentioning of Sanji

Trigger warnings/content: Sexual content, drinking/drunk sex, rough sex, degradation, spanking, multiple orgasms, brat/brat taming

Sweat was dripping from his brow, down to his waist band, breathing heavily as he stretches while he takes a small break from his work out. “I need to get…stronger,” staring at his cut-covered hands, closing and opening the palms to ensure the tension on the pads of his fingers were releasing slowly. The pulsing of his blood ran hot within his body, his jaw was clenched, the callouses pressing against each other as he closed and opened repeatedly, to get ready for his next rep set. “I need a drink after this,” slowly bending down to grab his biggest set of dumbbells, grunting under the weight in his hands. Grunting as veins popped up on his forehead, his head only counting the mere digits, until he hit the hundreds. Setting the dumbbell again, he grabbed a towel nearby to wipe his body, his face and his hands. “Ero-cook better not be using my sake for cooking again, I swear to god I’ll slice him down today,” rocking his head side-to-side to emit cracking throughout his spine. “Maybe a jug of sake, along with a nap amongst the trees would be nice,” Zoro smiled, getting excited by the moment. His sweat mixed with a subtle smell of testosterone claimed the workout room.

“Zoro?”

“Huh?” He glanced lazily at the door, only to see the frame of Y/N holding the door handle, leaning forward, wearing a tube top, shorts that begs the eyes to imagine how plush the thighs that restrict it are like. “Oh, you are here,” not even bothering to see what she wanted.

“Sanji said snack time,” her voice high-pitched to sound convincing to her partner, this time around anyway. He raised his brow, his forehead slightly shining from where he missed the sweat on his brow.

“Did he ask me to come? Or did he bribe you to make me eat his food?” Slowly turning away, grabbing his top, sash and swords to wrap up everything, hinting he would be leaving to go elsewhere. The girl hesitated, rubbing her arm to ease the awkwardness of his question. Her silence was deafening, with only his steady breathing finally getting into pace. “That’s what I thought, he tantalizes you with food I see? Did he attempt to flirt with you this time?” Crossing her arms, she pouted, she leaned against the frame to support her weight.

“He doesn’t flirt with me, he merely compliments me. He knows that I am with you,” she stated a-matter-a-factly. Zoro merely shrugged and rolled his right eye.

“Same thing, complimenting and flirting are the same,” trying not to think about her words, cutting deep into his mind. Stupid cook, he thought. Turning around to slowly take his time to the doorframe, to nearly bodycheck Y/N, but stopped right in front of her small frame. It was as if he stared right past her, or at least, he didn’t want to look at her eyes. “I’mma go shower, so if you wanna see me afterwards, just wait on the deck.” Her nose wrinkled as she faltered a little, trying to take a small step back. She stood on her tiptoes to compete against his blank stare, nearly centimeters apart.

“No, it is called appreciation Zoro. Something that you lack sometimes,” her breath smelled of cherries, her skin smelled of seashells, she must have been playing on the beach with some of the crew. Whom, he didn’t really care about at that moment. Zoro reached out and grabbed her shoulder, so small in his hand as if she was glass. Gently pushing her aside to make room for just him to not bump into her body. “A compliment or two doesn’t hurt does it?”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” as he walked past her. “A quick shower, and I’ll see you on deck, got it?” Ruffling his sweaty hair, spreading his scent throughout the hallway. Zoro wanted to show his affection the way he normally does, but he didn’t want those words to lose meaning if he used it frequently. Such a pain in the ass, he thought of stripping off his clothes and quickly showering to get into the bathtub to relax his muscles. There were definitely moments where he ruffled her hair, poking their cheek to see their cute pout; even bantering to try and see her think up of all the reasons he was being wrong or annoying. Zoro never wanted to give her extreme favoritism just because they are their girlfriend. However, there are moments when he knows what he is doing is cold. Especially when she stands next to Sanji calling him muscle head, moss head and lower bounty. The only time when it was low was when he was at Wano, and he hates that Y/N rubs that in his face. Quickly climbing out of the tub, his head was heavy with thoughts. “Maybe a jug or two should be fine before I meet up with Y/N for a little day drinking, right?” Groaning to mentally prepare for potentially seeing an angry cook guarding the pantry again like last time.

There was a set of shorts and a loose Hawaiian shirt, waiting for it to envelop his muscles. He quickly slipped the shorts on, tying the swords to his hip as he walked down the hall while putting on each sleeve as his feet led him straight to the kitchen. Luckily, his favorite cook was not there gatekeeping the sake pantry. Flinging open the wooden door, he saw his favorite sake, but also another small bottle. Frosted glass with no grains at the bottom of the bottle, he couldn’t read the label, but maybe he could just take a small sniff. Uncorking it, he could smell the strong aroma of alcohol, with a hint of berries, it was something different. “Well, this will do for now I guess,” grabbing the neck of the bottle and capping it.

“Really?” Anger was in her voice as she stared at his swords hanging at the belt along with the bottle of liquor in his hand. “Did you get lost on the Sunny-Go this time?”

“No no, I just had to make a quick pitstop,” Zoro couldn’t look her in the eye, he hates confrontation when she is angry. It didn’t process that he truly fucked up until he took a quick glance at her. Everyone on the ship knew not to mess with any of the crewmates when they were angry, especially the duo who could shock a bunch of enemies down to their knees. “So, that walk,” walking off the ship to land on the sand of the beach.

“Why? We are only going to get lost,” Y/N said with a hiss.

“What, you don’t trust me?” Turning to try to catch a glimpse of his girl. She followed suit to prove him wrong, but her pupils shot daggers into his eye.

“Idiot,” she said under her breath. As they were leaving, Sanji was yelling at everyone to find an expensive bottle of something. Something about 80-proof something, whatever that means.

“We went that way!”

“But we just came from that way!” Shit, we followed her directions and we got lost. There was no way he was going to let them get anymore lost. Fuck, now we are arguing now he thought. “Had we followed my entire path, we wouldn’t have gotten lost.” Almost sneering, but sighed. Both of you are bad with directions, especially when all the trees look the exact same, the leaves, height of the trunks, undisturbed grass that swayed in the wind as if no one had already walked this path before.

“Listen, let's just take a break, you and I. It’s already dark out, so it will be hard to see soon,” Zoro said as calmly as possible, almost seeing something in the distance, the swordsman tried to confirm it. “Hey, is that a house?” Y/N looked and could see something in the distance as well. They both ran to the small building, making sure it was exactly what they both saw.

“Well, we still need to finish that bottle you brought along don’t we?”

It wasn’t long until he checked the house out to find out it was abandoned for a long time, yet everything functioned within the home. “Yeah yeah, sit your ass down and we can start to drink.”

“I don’t typically drink-”

“Yeah yeah, I’m going to drink it for you, so don’t worry,” Zoro announced as he popped off the cork, gulping the forbidden water from the bottle straight. Y/N sighed as she sat on the bed nearby, listening to him quench his thirst. “This shit is so great! No wonder that swirlbrow was hiding it.”

“You can’t handle me regardless if you were drunk or sober. You couldn’t even look in the eye,” teasing him in a competitive manner. “Besides, I am always in control here. Not you.” Zoro swirled the last bit of the sake into his lip, emptying the bottle clean. There was something that aggravated him just now. It's not true, not at all in fact. They both were in control of the relationship, not just her.

“That’s not-”

“I would never beg for you ever,” a smirk forming on her lips as she crossed her legs. Zoro lunged at Y/N, pinning her down on the old creaky bed, almost breaking on the weight of his body and hard palms.

“Shut up…slut, I can make you beg all night if I wanted you to,” Zoro locking his right hand around her neck, pressing harder than normal in a way that he could feel her twitch. “Now take your words back,” he snarled. Zoro’s nails tearing the sheets beside her body. “I said, take your words back, brat.” Y/N didn’t falter, just staring at him back, almost spitting back at him. In fact, she challenged him, tilting her up her jaw to compete with his glare.

“I refuse to let you win,” a smile creeping onto her lips. “Let’s see how long it will take for you to give up, lower-bounty,” whispering oh so softly to his face. His grip tightened a little, hitching her breath a little.

“Oh is that so?” Zoro raised his eyebrow, wedging his thigh between her clothed core, moving it up slightly to see what she would do. Y/N’s hips hesitated to meet the friction between her legs, nearly giving in. There was no way she was going to give in easily. Both of them were so similar, even their competitiveness was almost matched, almost. “Did you try to move, my little brat?”

“Your little brat? Thought you implied I was flirting with Sanji,” Zoro’s grip loosened a little, of course he didn’t want to hurt Y/N at all, but surely he wanted to teach her a lesson about talking back to him. With his right hand, he flipped her over and yanked down her shorts, revealing her plump cheeks, slapping it to see it bounce. Y/N yelped, almost moaning with her breath wavering to prevent it from giving away that she didn’t want to admit she was enjoying it. They both knew she was stubborn, but sooner or later, one of them would admit defeat. Landing another slap on her cheek again, her yelp got stifled when she stuffed her face into the pillow.

“I know you like this, slut.” She propped up her head to catch a glance at her man rubbing his hand over her ass, soothing the sting that had slowly been fading.

“Oh, so you do want me to flirt back with Sanji? Oh, I see I see,” there it was again, teasing him like the brat she was. “Guess he was right.”

“What was he right about, slut?” Zoro questioned, as he gripped her thighs, his fingers hooking onto his shorts, waiting to see what her answer was. Her eyes gazed deep into his, and she parted her lips to only say one thing.

“He could have pleasured me better.” Zoro had enough lip, he took his hand and slapped the right ass cheek almost as hard as he could. Y/N yelped in pain, feeling the heat radiate from her ass, not wanting to submit to his aggression. “Z-zoro-,” her voice muffled into the pillow. There was no way she was going to give up with just some hits to her ass. Y/N wanted to win this game more than anything. “If you think that is all it will take-” His wrist snapped, wrapping around her throat, squeezing enough to make her gasp, his other hand near her jaw, rough pads trying to trespass into her lip.

“You're going to keep talking back, maybe let's make use of those whorish mouth of yours,” prodding at the corners of her lips. There was a little give to her lips as her pink lips parted, there was an opening to allow his fingers to enter. Swirling of the tongue around his fingers to show a little bit of obedience. “Oh that’s my girl.” Zoro was finally waiting for that moment of giving. “For a little reward, maybe you’ll get something better to lick on,” Y/N moaned around his fingers, saliva nearly drooling onto her jaw, as Zoro pulled out his pointer and index finger. Still grasping onto her neck, his other hand trailed down to tease at her pussy. “So wet for me. Or is that something you are going to say wasn’t what I did?” She was slowly starting to succumb to his teasing, she hates losing but she knows too well how well he treated her in bed.

“Oh Zoro…” her vocal chords pulsing into his palm, he could feel every word, anticipating her next words. “Are you trying to please me just to prove your point?” Her mouth was still talking shit it seemed. There was a pause, it was true, he does love pleasing her, but he wanted to see if he could test her limit. He was in control here, his goal was to win this little banter. His fingers entered her core, the sound of her wetness dripping out as her soft moan escaped her lips.

“Your lips never lie when I touch…here,” as his thumb circles the bundle of nerves. Y/N’s back arched, the sheer amount of pleasure too much to hide as her moans reverb off the walls. She grit her teeth, but it was way too much as her body started to tremble, that sweet spot causing this warm sensation deep within.

“Zoro I-!” Y/N moaned loudly as her body shook, her walls clenching his hardened fingers to signal her final release. Zoro, of course, was elated, but still had a point to prove.

“Did I say you could cum?” His fingers dipping out of her cunt and up to his own lips. The taste of her was addicting, as if he wanted to dive into her and eat her like it was his last cup of sake. He saw her small eyes now looking at him, she looked so small and docile now. Her head shook, but he wanted a definite answer. “Did I say you could cum, slut?” His hand around her throat released as a gasp of air filled her lungs. There was a small mumble, but he wasn’t having any of that tonight. The smell of sweat and drunken fighting swirled around the atmosphere. “Speak up, you know I can’t hear you.”

“No…”

“No who?” He demanded.

“No Zoro, you didn’t.” Y/N was starting to waiver, closer and closer.

Zoro won.

“Good,” his voice was so drall, thick and rough. “Now…” his calloused hands grasped Y/N’s waist, making sure her body was perfectly aligned with the bed beneath. Stripping of her tube top as if it was hiding more treasure. “I guess it’s time to claim my prize, is that right babe?” Y/N caught her breath, her brain was beyond muddled with thoughts. What was this feeling? It was nothing she felt before. Zoro waited, and waited, making sure there was a sign that he didn’t overdo it. “Oh little babe,” his fingers traced Y/N’s jaw gently to find some sort of sign if Y/N was okay, as the alcohol seemed to be slowly wearing off.

“C…claim me, please, its not enough,” her voice was so soft, needy, as if this was something she yearned for. Zoro hesitated, as he wanted to see how far she wanted him. “Please, love.” He couldn’t wait, nearly ripping everything off, he teased his head right at her entrance, Y/N’s arms flew up in the air to grasp the broad man above her.

“Hm…I don’t know,” the swordsman teased, rubbing her entrance up and down, “it’s supposed to be my prize, but then again…” entering her in one swift movement, he was stretching her out subtly. His fingers did enough of the work that Y/N moaned out and grabbed onto Zoro’s shoulders. “Fuck, so tight for me babe,” his voice growling as one hand grabbed her right breast, kneeding the nipple every so often to hear her forbidden sounds.

“Zoro, love, please. Right there!” He could see her eyes, her pretty eyes, the view was sinful. Sanji could never see this, and he couldn’t help but admit to himself that he gets jealous that Sanji could dish out comments to make Y/N feel good about herself. However, he knew this side of Y/N was for him and for him only. Zoro leaned down to kiss Y/N, as his thrusts got sloppier and sloppier. There was a twitching feeling he could feel within his veins. “I’m going to cum!”

“Fuck, me too babe-” as he slammed his hips right into his partners. Both harmonizing as they finish, skin meeting as the slickness of sweat and his seed mixed. Zoro couldn’t help but feel a little dizzy, as he nearly collapsed right on top of his girlfriend. His arms trying to wrap around his exhausted girl, pulling up the sheets below to cover their naked bodies. Y/N was still trembling from the high, but soon was steady in his arms. “Thanks…Y/N. I...love...you”

“Oi, Zoro!”

“Hm?” Zoro grumbled from bed, his head still a little groggy. The air smelled still sweaty, and stale. His head wasn’t ringing, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little exasperated. “What…” Getting up what the commotion was about. The sheets fluttered off, revealing his bare skin to the cold air. Zoro realized that he still wasn’t clothed, as he picked up his garments off the floor and put them on. Y/N walked in and looked away shyly, but tried to look at his figure.

“Your shorts are on inside out, first of all,” Y/N pointing straight to his legs. Fuck. Turning around and taking them off, just to readjust them and put them back on. “Also….thousand sunny is right behind this cabin….” Zoro’s eyes widened, nearly popping out of his skull.

“W…What now?” Nearly shoving his girlfriend away from the window, sure enough, the cabin overlooked the waters, showing the cute little lion face of the thousand sunny looking away from them. “Ah…well, at least that ero-cook will know that I am the one that can make you blush the most now.” A smirk beaming on his face. “What do you say? Round two? To prove my point of course” Y/N sighed and slapped his arm.

“You wish!” There was the girl he knew. “Last one on the ship has to help Sanji clean the dishes!” Zoro made a break to the door, just as Y/N was going to leave the cabin. This was the one time he was going to make Y/N lose just so he can potentially punish her again.

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aka-indulgence · 1 year

Text

Worth the Effort (You Are)

As I’ve said before, I’ve been in a Really Romantic mood lately, and I just wanna…. be with Sans….. ouhghug….. i lov him….. also I just so happen to have written and finished this around valentines day! It’s not a valentine’s fic but. It’s very soft… romantic fluff… hehehee ://>

Ao3 (because it is Longe): https://archiveofourown.org/works/45076489

———————

It was an exciting day.

You tie a white sash around your waist, and tie your hair back. Styling your hair?

The baby blue dress you were wearing was adorable. It was really flattering for your form, and you look like if a flower had spontaneously turned into a human.

A special day.

Sans had asked you on a date. One that he planned out, one that he said was like “what you’d expect from a romance movie. novel. mettaton’s dating ma- no maybe not that one.”

Any date with Sans was a special occasion. Time spent with your wonderful, loving bonefriend was something you cherished. But Sans was putting effort to change things up, to impress you with something new. Not that you needed it, but the fact that he was doing it for you makes your heart flutter.

He said he wouldn’t even teleport for it, that he’d have a special ride for you. You don’t know what he could mean by that… usually you’d assume him to be alluding to teleporting (the first time he’d say that line was when he showed you his teleportation powers. Your jaw had dropped on the floor that first time.), but he already said he wasn’t. You spend your time nervously waiting for him to arrive pondering what kind of ‘ride’ he’s bringing. Of course, Sans never showed interest in vehicles… why would he, if he already has the most efficient method of transfer already, what… ingrained in his very soul? Maybe he borrowed Papyrus’ car? Or… maybe he is planning to surprise you with a car…?

You doubt it. Sans is crafty as much as he is lazy. He strives for convenience.

You don’t doubt however, that Sans was going to be on time. He promised that he’s going to arrive today on time. So you relax on the window-side seat, not looking out of it, as if he was going to come faster if you did, no. You actually relax a bit, not paying attention to the time, and start to snooze a little… woken up by the knocks on your door. You practically bounce off the seat like a spring, opening the door with a smile on your face that somehow gets wider when you see the soft skull of the man you loved so much.

Even better, he was wearing a tux shirt, and long jeans. Sans, mixing up his wardrobe? No.

“Sans!” You waste no time to wrap your arms around him (well, to the best of your ability) in a warm hug.

Look at your handsome man!!!

“are you surprised? i promised,” Sans winks. Sure enough, you fish out your phone and it shows you the lock screen.

“On time, to the dot!” You announce excitedly.

Sans snickers a little. “if you were looking at a clock…”

… “Don’t tell me you knocked right when the second hand made it all click.”

“yes.”

You laugh delightedly at that, wishing you were looking at an analog clock to see that, it would’ve been amazing.

“Well, I say I’m impressed, but… you’ve always been good at being ‘on time’,” You say slyly, as if you were trying to undermine his feat. Sans can see in your smile that you weren’t doing it to be mean. “You’ve been pretty good at keeping your promises to come on time.”

He was on time, sure… but he’d like to cut it close. If this was another date, Sans would come to you just a few seconds before the time he promised he’d take you out somewhere- say, a restaurant, and appear before a very shaken receptionist and tell them about his reservation (that was about to be cancelled).

“you know me. i hate promises, i don’t make them lightly.” Sans makes a solemn expression. “but i always make promises to you. you make it easy for me to keep them.”

… Damn this man, your heart was feeling all sorts of mushy and soft for him before the date’s even gotten off the ground properly.

Sans can’t blame you for having to immediately kiss him (right now!!). In fact, the skeleton seems quite happy to have you furiously kissing him on the teeth.

“You look!! So good!” You say as soon as you’re done attacking him, picking at his shirt. “tux shirt. Simple, but dapper.”

You’re only half-joking.

“ah… you as well,” Sans’ smile turns warmer, seeing your dress.

Of course Sans would appreciate your clothes, but you still feel giddy anyway, giving him a little twirl. “You like it?”

“i love it.” Sans tells you emphatically. “it’s cute… an’ pretty. you trying to match my magic?”

“Absolutely.” You answer confidently, pecking him one more time on the cheekbone, which he rubs affectionately, chuckling.

“Well!” You clap your hands, challenge in your tone. “Where’s this ride you’ve been promising me? It better live up to the hype!”

Sans chuckles at your enthusiasm, then steps back away from the door and makes a grand waving motion at the thing just on the road in front of your home.

“our ride, my lady.” He bows dramatically.

You’re… actually too stunned to speak. The blue ride Sans was showing you was… a tricycle. An honest to god tricycle.

“H… h,” you wheeze gently, “you didn’t,” you breathe as you approach the (relatively) little thing.

“i did.”

When you look it over, you could see that it was modified. It was larger than a little kiddy tricycle, but not as big as a proper bicycle. The seat was so that it could fit two people comfortably (and you mean comfortably. Sans wasn’t… a small man). Other than that it looked like a regular tricycle.

When you turn to look at Sans, he looks so proud.

“What a–” cute “--silly use of your engineering degree. I love it.”

“no core, a bore,” Sans shrugs, as if that little detail in his credentials was some everyday thing that many monsters had. “well… not really. but it’s been a while since i really… used that degree for anything. might as well for my favorite human, huh?”

You don’t doubt that your eyes were sparkling at him when he says that. You spend a minute or so just admiring the tricycle.

“Did you build it from scratch or…?”

“nah. that’d be tire-ing.” Sans sighs, “I’d rather tri something else.”

“L-”

“like we should get a move on before it gets too late. we better get this show on the road before we spend an entire day lazing around your house.”

“... Who are you and what did you do to Sans?”

“heheheh,”

As much as you’d like to tease him about it, he’s right. Sans prepared… “Stuff” for you, and you’d like to appreciate it.

So you do.

“Let’s go then, Mr. chauffeur, take me to our destination!” You declare confidently, glance at the tricycle, then less confidently “.... can you tell me how to sit in this?”

—————

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so nervous riding a tricycle before.

You’re sat behind Sans, and though you’re about the same height as him, his broad shoulders made it so it was a bit hard to look over them. Your hands couldn’t circle him properly, so you had your hands scrunching up his shirt. It didn’t take too long before you got used to it though, and your brain didn’t keep thinking that you’d fall out of the generous seat.

You would think that riding a tricycle around the city, it would take a while to get anywhere, but surprisingly, Sans kept up good speed. He even overtakes a couple of cars while he pedaled, and even from behind him you could see the shit-eating grin growing on his face whenever someone in the cars makes a double take at the sight. You’d covered your mouth then, a move that made Sans even more proud.

You wondered how he did it. And how Sans didn’t seem to struggle at all. Leg day, maybe?

The idea of Sans doing any sort of exercise seriously, perhaps even specifically so he could use the tricycle was a hilarious mental image.

By the time you’ve arrived, you barely recognize your surroundings. You’re at a nice big park… somewhere? And after Sans parks the trike,

(“don’t worry, no one’s going to steal a tricycle. that’s a bit trite don’t you think?” “I mean. If you say no one’s going to nab it…”)

(Sans somehow fits the tricycle into the regular bicycle parking rack.)

He brings you up to a scenic hill that looks like it came out straight out of a movie. Overlooking the rest of the park, with a big shady tree on it.

It’s a good thing you came earlier, because today was the perfect weather to be out, and no one had taken the prime space yet. The sun’s getting high on the sky, but you won’t be bothered under the shade.

He leads you there, then takes his hand away. “wait here. be right back in a jiff,” Sans mentions, and he walks behind the tree. He takes more than a jiff, a couple of seconds, and when he reemerges from the other side you stifle a snort.

He looks like a whirlwind, a plaid red and white blanket thrown over his skull, and a picnic basket swinging from one hand…

A picnic!!

Old memories resurface, of always wanting to do a traditional picnic that you saw often while watching shows and movies as a kid. With a blanket and matching picnic basket… tea cup set… lovely company. You never got to and you didn’t think you’d have the motivation, but here you were, with Sans providing it for you.

“A picturesque picnic?” You thought out loud, “That’s so sweet!”

“hey you haven’t even seen what’s inside the basket.” Sans places it down, and spreads the blanket over the grass. “and i mean… paps helped me pick out the stuff, so i think he should get some of the credit.”

“Credit for what?”

“getting good grades on ‘dating’,”

“Am I dating the both of you???”

“no it’s an individual project… but doesn’t hurt to have a brother who reads all about dating.”

The basket Sans brought wasn’t small by all accounts, but Sans fitted more into it than you thought it could. You take them out and spread them over the blanket. You squeed in delight, having some of your favorite light dishes around you, along with the picnic staples: sandwiches, fruits, and of course one (1) teapot.

As you look around though, you have to ask… “Are you sure you like this stuff, Sans?”

Sans pauses, hand stuck in the basket. “huh? of course i do. i wouldn’t bring it if i didn’t. besides,” He materializes a hotdog from the basket, “i came prepared with my usual.”

It was a sight, to have him bring out the ketchup bottle out and sblort, there goes the ketchup on the sausage, against the backdrop of a very proper looking picnic.

Well… almost. Wasn’t like your favorites didn’t include something ‘unhealthy and greasy’...

“had to sneak this in. i’d already promised paps that i was gonna plan out a romantic picnic and he left me to it for the most part… but he wouldn’t have approved of this particular meal choice.”

“No, he wouldn’t.” You agreed, eyeing his hotdog with a little more drool than you’d care to admit. “Do you have… more…?”

“wouldn’t be a thoughtful boyfriend if i didn’t think about that now, would i?” Sans’ sockets gleam as he procures another delicious processed meat product.

You spend your picnic appreciating all the stuff Sans brought (doing your best not to shove it all down your face), pleasantly surprised that Sans made most of it by hand.

“also, papyrus was there. … i promise, i made the main stuff, even if paps tried to stage a coup against me,”

“Hahaha!”

It was very thoughtful, and it made you feel very special that this skeleton with a lazybones reputation kept proving to you day by day that you were someone worth a lot of effort, even if you didn’t need something grand.

Eventually the topic of his tricycle came up again.

“i’ve had that tricycle for a while, actually. ever since we surfaced,”

“No way, really?” you looked back towards the bike parking area, though you couldn’t actually see the vehicle in question. “I was convinced you bought and built that tricycle for this date.”

You’re afraid you might’ve sounded disappointed, because Sans waves his hands frantically. “no no, that was for you. it wasn’t all… professionally approved for actual distance travel, before. i did that for this,” he gestures at the picnic. “no… it used to be a very normal tricycle. and no, not the one for adults. lil kiddy trike.”

You think about the tricycle now, upsized and fit for two people. You try to imagine what it might’ve looked like back then, while Sans stayed the same… on a kiddy tricycle…

Your mouth turns into a squiggly line. “B… but why? I’ve… I’ve never even seen you on something remotely like a bike,”

“i can show you,” Sans fishes his phone out of his pocket, smile going up to his sockets. “you wanna know how big ‘ol me fit on it, right?”

“Yes!” you answer emphatically as Sans scrolls through his gallery. It takes him a while before his sockets widen in an a-ha! expression.

“here it is… sweet surfacing memories,” Sans says, turning the screen to you as he looks up wistfully to the sky.

Your face is flat as you stare at the image on the phone, hands unconsciously coming up to it, taking it away from Sans. You just had to take a closer look.

It was… a glorious picture. The image quality was surprisingly crisp and sharp where it mattered, considering the motion blur you could see at the edges of it. There, was an image of Sans, his shit-eating grin wide on his face as he winks for the camera, and though it was cut off you could see how tiny the tricycle looked like under him, And behind, there was Papyrus, in his sports car, all shiny and new with the hood down and Papyrus was… god, his eyes were popping out of his skull, mouth opened in frozen agony, fists furious at the wheel. You honestly think you could hear the “SAAAAANS!!!” he must undoubtedly be screeching in the image.

Sans laughs along with you when you burst, throwing your head back, one hand to your chest- he was trying to kill you!- half-mindedly handing him back his phone.

Again, “B… but why!?” You ask even more desperately than before.

“screwing with my younger brother, obviously.” He rolls his eyelights in teasing ‘duh’. “pap always wanted to have a sports car like that, you already knew he used to have a racecar bed back in the underground. early after we surfaced, pap got his dream come true in that car and wanted to take a test… victory ride around the city highways. i gave him some time to indulge on it himself but.. i couldn’t resist to ruin it… maybe just a little,”

There was the glint in his sockets, in the way his grin was lifted, the expression that Sans had when he just found a brand new pun or when he was waiting for you to realize what he just tricked you into. Even though you’ve fallen for something many a time when he did it, he always looked adorable when he made that face- happy.

“couldn’t let my brother have his joy ride on his own could i? so i found my own- shortcutted all around the city for bicycle stores… toy stores… for the perfect tricycle. i needed something that was practical but still funny enough, something that’d look small for me, and i found it. as soon as i did i chased him, and once i found him, i overtook him.”

His sockets crinkled as he looks to the side, no doubt looking at the memory in his mind’s eye. “he was so pissed. you know my brother, so cool, he was stamping his leg and flailing his hands while the car kept cruisin’ on as if he was still driving it. i rode off into the sunset before he did, and when i got home he’d stopped at undyne’s house, sitting on the porch, looking like a storm. undyne was trying to comfort him but… i think i even got her, because she broke out into a laugh when she saw my trike.”

He sighs happily. “told her i was here to pick up my bro. paps left in a huff and said I CAN TAKE MYSELF HOME ALONE!!”

You laugh- surprised and not at the same time, and you don’t bother trying to keep it ‘polite’. You weren’t expecting the frighteningly good impression of his brother form Sans, and the story itself was hilarious- something you absolutely expected from Sans.

“You’re an asshole!” You say, pointing an accusatory finger at him. Sans doesn’t take offense.

“sure was. pap tried real hard to stay mad at first, for ruining his moment… but i apologized to him while sitting on my trike. i don’t think he could resist seeing something like that. i broke him when i honked the horn.”

“There was a horn?!” You repeat, disbelieving.

“yeah.

“Where’d it go?

“oh, i took it off, for the… for the occasion.” Sans rubs the back of his neck. “didn’t feel like it’d fit..?”

Hm… probably right.

But, “You should put it back on after!” you encourage, “I wanna ride around in it with you more! And I think the faces people make when you honk at them are going to be funnier after they get over their shock.”

Sans perks up at that, like he wasn’t expecting it. “r… really?” then, hesitantly, “you… you actually like that thing?”

“Of course I do, you made it for us!” You announce cheerfully. “And I really want to ride around the city with you… it was actually pretty relaxing.”

Of course you liked being with Sans anywhere, and his teleportation was great you could go from one place to another in an instant without having to worry if you’d ever be late, but… you also liked taking your time to just be around him, and since Sans rarely ever took rides… it was pretty romantic to be riding behind him while he cycled around.

You add that. “And I like spending time with you,”

His grin was minimal now, something that’d worry you… if his cheeks hadn’t started dusting blue, spreading across his face.

“i…. same,” He eventually smiles again, holding his cheek tenderly. “i love you.”

“I love you too.” You answered so fast it was almost automatic.

Sans sits there in silent for a moment, the sound leaves rustling quietly in the wind, along with the ambient noise of the park. Then, he seems to get an idea.

“you know what else you love though...”

Oh no. That grin wasn’t a good sign.

(It was a Funny sign.)

“you love food so much you’ve been stealing it from your own datemate.” He puts his hand on his sternum and makes a melodramatic face. “i’m hurt.”

“What..?”

When you turn to look, all the leftovers have somehow been piled onto your plate in the blink of an eye. You’re surprised it doesn’t topple.

“Wh, how did that all get here?!”

“i get eating condiments with excitement, i really do, you know me, but… that whipped cream was for sharing, sweet-toots.”

“Huh???” Was your reaction, until you saw the whipped cream beside you. “I was!! Putting it on the cake earlier!!”

“ravenous.” Sans is ignoring your desperate pleas! “you can still see the remnants of the crime…” He’s tapping on the side of his teeth. Sure enough, you had whipped cream there.

“And you have the crime of breaking the laws of physics!” You shoot back, ‘walking’ towards him on your knees, “time to go to jail, bone man!”

“oh no, are you going to whip me- augh!!” Was Sans’ anguished cry (mixed in with a surprised laugh) when you smack him softly on the cheek, trying to jab him anywhere you can. You were (not actually) annoyed and you were trying to make your case clear! Sans answers back with jabs on his own, and though he had thick bones and bigger hands, he was… playing as nice as one Sans would allow. Then, he found his way to his tickle spots.

“Sans, no!”

You end up playfully stuck to each other, trying to shove and tickle and push and pull at each other, to get the upper hand.

“Get your hands-! Not there!”

“if you surrender first, food stealer,”

“For the last time I did not steal your food!!”

“whipped cream sprayer,”

“I didn’t-! Argh!!”

You give Sans a hard shove. And this time he doesn’t get up- you see him attempt, of course, but he starts tilting back over the hill, you can see his expression turn from playful to huh?? And you try to catch him, one hand going over to protect his skull and the other around his waist (sort of), but he’s tilted too far… and his hands had automatically caught you…

Well. You end up rolling down the hill together, a blur of blue and black, picnic left alone on top. You squeaked and Sans was huffing as you both spinned, eventually slowing down to a halt, with you on top of Sans.

You were in a tangle of limbs. Apparently both of you had the same idea- keep the other one safe. Although you can’t imagine your tiny hands could be of much help to Sans, who’s thick arms did wonderful as a defensive pillow around you.

You stare at each other in stunned-silence for a little while. Maybe a bit longer.

You only seemed to snap out of it when you saw a blade of grass on Sans’ cheek and tried to thumb it away- only to realize your hand was stuck under Sans skull. And when you tried to use the other one, it was also stuck under Sans’ back.

Your face scrunched up and so did Sans. And then you both burst out in laughter, ignoring your trapped hands.

“r…. ribcaged!!” Sans was wheezing, the power of his laughter making you shake a little on top of him, while your own laughing certainly made you look like you were vibrating.

“I was trying to keep your skull safe and this is the thanks I get?” You’d jab him in the sternum if you could, but alas, your hands were indeed, ribcaged.

Sans mirrors you, putting one hand on your head, lifting his back a little so you could free your hands (before they start falling asleep). You fold them on top of him, smiling while he’s still giggling, his sockets shut.

“oh my god,” Sans says, like he’s had a revelation, rubbing one phalange under his socket. “are we… are we in a romcom? or… straight up romantic movie?”

He was hehehehing all the way, and you really didn’t want him to stop.

“What if we are?” You shrug. “We’ve got real attractive leaads…”

“heheheh… yeah we do,”

Sans draws his hands back around you while you giggle, and when his hand settles over your head, you struggle a little to stop yourself from smiling when he leans in. You meet his teeth with your lips, and it was a joy to feel that he was having trouble too, feeling his expression on his teeth.

You’re so happy. You’re so happy you get to do silly, adorable couple stuff with someone that you really cared about.

… Somewhere deep in your mind, you think “We’re lucky Alphys and Undyne aren’t around to see this… they’d be taking pictures like paparazzi, and you’re sure they’d squee about it with each other.”

—————

You spent some time canoodling with Sans a bit longer, until you both abruptly remembered your picnic stuff when a dog had come up, sniffing around. Most of it have been eaten of course, so nothing got sacrificed… but you supposed it was time for you retire home. It was afternoon now and families have started getting to the park, which was less peaceful. Nice, but not quiet.

“i mean it would be nice to see the sunset… but i don’t think you’d have much fun overheating under the sun.” Sans said, on the matter while he stacked the utensils back into the basket. (He had insisted he do the stacking. By the way he put emphasis on it, you feel like it’s either a pun, or a story he hadn’t told you about.)

When you came back to the parked tricycle, he looked like he’s still feeling shy about it and had half a mind to just teleport you home, but you remind him how much you want to ride around with him, and he concedes.

“You should take me sunset riding. Next time maybe?” You talked over him, hair waving in the wind. He had gone up a flyover and you were admiring the view, the tall buildings all around you. Maybe he didn’t think you could see it, but you could see the blue spreading on his face again. It took him a while before he answered you with “yes. definitely, next time…”

It felt like the ride home was all too fast, and you had the same feeling in your stomach as you do when you were a kid, waking up right before your car arrives home. It doesn’t keep you down though, as you practically skip your way towards home, with Sans holding onto your arm like a proper gentleman.

You take off your shoes at the door and untie your sash, standing around the entry way. “Aw Sans, that was great! Food’s good, cool ride,” Sans ducks his skull a bit, glancing away, “even better skeleton. It…. it was a special date. Thanks Sans,”

You give him a peck on the cheek, and you love seeing the little gesture has him being faintly blue, though he has a confident smile and his eyelights were glowing brightly.

“it’s… don’t mention it. i told you i gotta romantic bone in me…”

“I knew that!” You giggled, reminding him that “It’s Papyrus that didn’t think you had a romantic bone!”

You shake your head. “But look at you now… you put together a bunch of meals for us, bought matching basket and blanket, got here on time, and you modified an entire tricycle that you only planned to use as a joke.”

Your heart feels full as you say, “You always know how to make me feel special.”

His grin drops again, averting his gaze. This scene… it makes you smile, how even after a year of dating this goober, it still feels as if you two were two kids who’s crushing on each other. He takes your hands in his, and when his eyelights turn to look back at you, you could see they were in the shape of hearts.

“you’re always worth the effort, starlight.”

Ah… that lovely nickname.

He brings your hands to his teeth in a gentleman kiss. You’re squeeing and shaking in place, you don’t want to let go of Sans’ hands right now.

“Oh, I can’t wait to be able to have revenge on you, grr… who would’ve guessed the whoopie cushion would be so good at romance?”

Sans taps his chin, looking around your house as if he were judging it. “hm…. i can think of a few ways you could repay me.” Sans says, after much pondering. “ya know my legs are real tired from all that pedaling… i don’t think i have enough strength to go home right now…”

You smile at him. You’re too happy to try to challenge his reasoning- even to jokingly ask him “but you can teleport?”

As if he was expecting you to turn him away however, Sans has chosen to close the distance and dramatically lay (part) of his weight on you.

“Wh- hey! Get off!! Sans you can stay, but I’m not going to have a lot of fun if you end up crushing me on my front door!”

“.....” Sans doesn’t answer. Instead,

“zzzzzz……”

“Oh my god!”

You get into ‘Playful Fight Round Two’, but it doesn’t last as long, and there were no scenic romantic hills to roll over, as you settled into Sans’ arms, walking over to the very comfy sofa that could very well rival his old one back at his house.

“this is the best repayment ever, and you’re the best girlfriend ever,” Sans says. You both settle into a couch cuddle, with Sans as the big spoon, TV turned on as background noise. “happy anniversary, starlight.”

He kisses your cheek. The edges of your lips quirk up. Though they were getting tired from how much you smiled today, you don’t have it in you to care.

“Happy anniversary, Sans.”

#aka writing #fluff #i. love him. so mUCH #AUGHUUHH #sans x reader #ut!sans x reader

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the-obnoxious-sibling · 2 months

Text

in which this story comes to an end. (fucking finally.)

part eight of the post-marineford portion of the near miss fics! (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7) if you have no idea what i’m talking about but would like to read a shanks/buggy story about kissing in disguise and then having to deal with the emotional fallout of doing that, click on this link, that’s the tag for the whole thing in chronological order. (plus a fair bit of complaining about writing, one inspirational improvised musical number, and a snippet of shanks pov) if you do know what i’m talking about: it’s done! it’s done!! i wish i could say i planned to end this on 3/8 but lmao, did not know the significance of the day until, like, this tuesday. but it’s done. i’m taking a break from the world of this story to work on some gift exchange fics, but i will be uploading the first few fics to ao3 soon, and should start posting the shanks POV post-marineford story in late april. if there are scenes you’d especially like his POV on, let me know! i’ll do my best to incorporate them.

Buggy spent a very cathartic half-hour shouting at a bunch of guys who ate up his words with a spoon. Always eager to please, the men obediently found themselves disembarkation buddies, cleaned up the messes they’d made, and started gathering their things (mostly weapons they’d stolen off the guards at Impel Down).

It was nice to be respected, Buggy thought as he watched them scurry around the ship. However misplaced the respect, it made people listen to him, something Buggy had wanted for as long as he could remember. He’d never been able to get enough. Probably never would, if the hunger that grew every time these men cheered his name was anything to go by.

He wandered up to the room he shared with Galdino—thankfully empty, he didn’t want to end up in another slap fight over details—and took care of his own possessions. (It wouldn’t do to have any excuses to delay or hang back when they got to the meeting point.) With the modified Marine jacket and hat back on, Buggy could fit everything else in a small satchel that he strapped around his waist, neatly hidden by a twist in a sash and the way the jacket fell. He left the room… more or less the way it had been when he arrived—there was no way to hide that dent in the wall, and Galdino would have to be the one to deal with the smear of wax across half the bed—and exited the room for the last time, taking in the view of the deck below with a contented sigh.

The Red Force was a well-run ship—a compliment Buggy would never voice aloud, but in the privacy of his own mind he allowed himself to think it. Even with hundreds of strangers aboard who couldn’t help but get in the way, she was clean, well-equipped, and sailing smoothly. Buggy didn’t know if he’d be able to say the same in a few hours, when all these men would be trying to squeeze onto the somewhat smaller Big Top. Buggy rubbed a hand across his mouth to hide his involuntary grimace at the thought. Maybe the island they were meeting up on had some industry he could put them to work at? A farm would be fantastic, if he could get paid for their labor and get the produce at a discount as well…

Buggy looked over the deck in search of one of Shanks’ senior officers. He didn’t know most of them by name, but those cloaks and capes they wore were distinctive enough that he thought he should be able to identify them on sight, and surely if the one he found didn’t know anything about the island, they could point him to someone who did. The navigator? Roux, who seemed to know a little about everything? Beckman, whose job it was to know something about everything?

And, think of the devil, one of the doors to the interior of the ship opened to reveal Beckman, speaking with a few of those cloaked men. They each went their own way, and Beckman crossed to the railing, taking up a pose not dissimilar from Buggy’s a few levels above him. That was a first mate for you, always keeping an eye on things, one way or another.

Buggy sent his feet down the stairs and the rest of him took the shorter path, swooping down to Beckman’s side like a giant white bat. To his credit, Beckman didn’t react to this unusual approach. Instead, calm as anything, he said, “Whatever you said to those men, it seems to be doing the trick. Thanks.”

Buggy waved the praise off. “If they’re so eager to be under my command, they’ve got to start learning to behave themselves sooner or later. Might as well be now.” Leaning an elbow against the railing, Buggy looked Beckman over. He sure did seem a lot more relaxed now than he’d been outside Shanks’ rooms. Relaxed enough to share intel? “Tell me something.”

Beckman glanced sideways at Buggy. “Hm?”

“What do you know about this island where we’re meeting up with my crew? Is it populated?”

“Ah, I don’t think so, no,” Beckman said, tilting his head back, recalling the facts. “Snake picked a jungle island that’s a bit out of the way of normal trade routes. There’s some ruins, but no signs of recent habitation.”

Buggy tried not to visibly wilt. “Ah.”

Beckman’s eyes lingered on Buggy. “We didn’t want to risk a naval presence on the island getting word out to the rest of the Marines.”

“No, no, it makes sense.” Buggy sighed, shoving a hand under his hat to scrub at his hair. “Just trying to figure out how the hell I’m gonna feed all these guys in that case.” No way had anyone thought to tell Alvida that Buggy was bringing new guys with him, let alone a lot of new guys. She’d have gotten the ship supplied with their normal numbers in mind.

Well, the new guys were a tough bunch, maybe they’d see hunting for their dinner as a fun challenge. Assuming there was anything safe to hunt and eat on this island… Buggy dug his fingers into his scalp, biting back a frustrated groan.

Beckman laughed. “Yeah, I don’t envy you that job. At least we were expecting to take on passengers.” He whistled to get the attention of someone up in the crow’s nest and flashed a hand sign at them. After a few exchanges, he stopped signing and rolled his eyes. “Stubborn, overworking little—” He cut himself off and glanced at Buggy. “Was that all you wanted from me?” Buggy nodded. “Then I’ll see you when Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… or when we land. Whichever comes first.” With that, he walked over to the mast, got the attention of a young man who’d been leaning against it, and grabbed onto a low-hanging rope. The two of them pulled themselves up into the rigging—to harass whoever was up in the crow’s nest into taking a break, probably.

Buggy watched them climb for a minute, a frown crawling its way across his face. When Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… so there was something Shanks was hiding that he didn’t think he should, huh? Buggy had figured the feeling he was getting off Shanks was about one of those topics he’d had private conversations with Roger about way back when, not something that Shanks would consider any of Buggy’s business. But apparently that wasn’t the case.

Buggy’s frown deepened. He could come up with a list of topics Shanks wouldn’t want to broach but would still feel obligated to bring up, no problem. But that list was short, and Buggy didn’t like the thought of discussing anything on it.

Unsettled, Buggy leaned back against the mast, arms crossed.

“Look out below!!!”

Buggy looked up and shrieked at the sight of a man falling head-first out of the crow’s nest. He scattered—it wasn’t like his body would soften the blow enough that the guy would live—and then blinked, as a rope he hadn’t noticed went taut, and the falling slowed to a gentle, somehow mechanical motion.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” he demanded, floating up to be eye-level with the slowly descending man. This was, if Buggy remembered correctly, Shanks’ sniper, Yasopp, of the infamous years-long tempting out to sea. Someone with good aim, and a keen eye, but not particularly decisive—or, at least, he hadn’t been back then. He was also apparently someone with a shitty sense of humor; he wasn’t answering Buggy’s question because he was too busy laughing and pointing at Buggy.

“Your face! Oh, my stomach hurts,” he said, clutching at his waist. “Oh man, that was almost worth getting kicked out of the nest.” As they approached the ground, he shifted his weight so his feet would touch down first, and untangled himself from the rope with practiced ease. “Phew. Sorry, uh—Buggy, right? Yeah, sorry about that. The crew knows better than to stand so close to the mast when the watch changes, and I didn’t think to check before I jumped.”

“Jumping from the crow’s nest for fun.” Buggy shook his head. “And here I thought you people were almost respectable.” Yasopp, the maniac, cackled. Beckman, drifting down to the deck on his own rope mechanism, in a much more orderly fashion, chuckled a little.

“It’s possible we’ve been on… well, not our best behavior. Let’s call it better behavior than usual, these last few days,” Beckman admitted. “Except for Yasopp, who doesn’t know the meaning of the concept and so stays up in his nest.”

“You haven’t been on your best behavior, you’re as mean as ever,” Yasopp said, putting on an over-the-top pout.

Beckman rolled his eyes. “Because I need to be, to get anything done around here,” he said. “And you need a break. Drink, talk to someone, tinker with one of your ridiculous trick bullets, I don’t care, just—let someone else keep an eye on things for a few hours, okay?” He nudged Yasopp in the side with an elbow. “Or are you gonna say you didn’t train your juniors well enough at their job?”

Yasopp crossed his arms, sulky. “No,” he conceded.

“Good,” Beckman said. Giving Buggy an apologetic grimace as he untied himself, he said, “I trust he’s apologized to you already?” His tone suggested that if he hadn’t, Yasopp would soon regret it.

What a mother hen of a first mate, Buggy thought, fighting down a smile. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he said, shrugging off the incident like it hadn’t carved a decade off his lifespan. “I should’ve known you people had to be at least a little crazy, since you run around with Shanks.”

A small smile crossed Beckman’s face, and Yasopp muffled a snort of laughter in a fist.

Someone called out in a panicky tone for Beckman from a far corner of the ship, and the smile fell off his face. “If you’ll excuse me?” Not waiting for a reply from either of them, Beckman walked off.

“So mean,” Yasopp said, fondness creeping into his voice.

“That’s first mates for you,” Buggy said, unable to keep a similar fondness out of his own voice. Shanks had done a good job finding this guy. When you grew up with the gold standard first mate (or, heh, the Silvers standard?), it was hard to find someone who could measure up. “Keeping things in order when your captain’s lost his head.”

Yasopp chuckled. “Ah, the boss isn’t that bad off.” When Buggy gave him a skeptical look, he smirked. “Lost his heart, maybe, but he knows where his head’s at.”

“I—uh.” Flustered, Buggy cleared his throat. He’d really just gone and said it. “You’re a lot less subtle than your crewmates.”

Yasopp shrugged. “I leave subtlety to subtle men. I’m not built for it; I’m built for getting to the heart of the matter, and doing it fast.” He extended two fingers towards Buggy, lifted his thumb into the air, and twitched his hand like it was a gun recoiling. “We both know where things stand. What’s the use in dancing around it?”

“Sure,” Buggy muttered, his thoughts going back to what Beckman had said. What was it Shanks both didn’t want to tell him and needed to tell him? What was there left unsaid, besides the sort of thing Buggy had already decided didn’t need saying? He crossed his arms. Damn it, he’d been trying to avoid thinking about this shit!

“Hey,” Yasopp said, snapping his fingers to draw Buggy’s attention. “You work with bombs, right? You make them yourself?”

Welcoming the change in topic, Buggy scoffed. “Of course,” he said, “only an idiot trusts the kind of weapons manufacturers who are willing to sell to pirates to make explosives that are good, reliable, and cheap, and I have better things to spend my money on.” He narrowed his eyes at Yasopp. “Why?”

“Because Beck just gave me permission to tinker with my trick bullets, and if you make your own explosives you might be able to figure out what I’m doing wrong with this one.” Digging around in one of his oversized ammunition pouches, Yasopp presented Buggy with an unusually lightweight cartridge. “Here, what do you think?”

Buggy cracked the cartridge open, curious. Inside was a pool of silvery-black gunpowder and a thin-walled hollow bullet, which proved to have some other kind of powder inside. Buggy pinched that powder between two fingers, rubbing them together to feel the grit and then sniffing at the residue left behind. He stared at his fingers, baffled, and smelled them again. “What is that, aluminum and an ammonium salt?” Yasopp nodded. “Are you trying to make a cartridge that explodes in the barrel?”

Yasopp sighed, running a hand through his locs. “What I want is a smoke bomb I can fire out of a gun. What I’m getting is… that, more or less.”

“Yeah, of course you are, a big velocity change ignites this stuff easily. With a different catalyst, though, or maybe a better sealed chamber…” Buggy trailed off, considering the bullet. A miniature smoke bomb, huh? Something that could stand up to the initial shock of gunfire, and turns to noise and powder on impact… “Do you have a chem lab around here somewhere?”

Yasopp grinned.

The two of them didn’t emerge from Yasopp’s workroom until the bell rang out announcing last call for lunch. Buggy wasn’t sure he’d ever get the metallic burnt smell out of these clothes, but he didn’t care; this had been fun, the kind of idle experimenting with explosives that he hadn’t had time to do in years. Buggy hadn’t realized how much of a man’s free time it ate up, captaining even a smallish crew, until he’d gotten a fraction of that time back.

“Too bad we didn’t figure out a solution for your smoke bullet problem,” he said, dusting the last of the gunpowder off his shirt sleeves.

“Eh, I’ve been working on this on and off for months, it wasn’t gonna be an easy fix,” Yasopp said, shrugging his star-spangled cloak back on. “But it got both of us out of our heads for a few hours, so I’d hardly call it a waste.”

Buggy blinked at him, frozen with one arm in his jacket. “Both of us?”

“You were fretting, I don’t know what about. Shanks, at a guess. And I’m… not good at letting other people take on my responsibilities.” Yasopp grimaced. “Beck doesn’t always have to toss me out of the nest, but…”

Buggy frowned, sliding the jacket up his other arm. “I wasn’t fretting.”

Yasopp gave him an unimpressed look. “Sure. And what kind of concealer do you use to hide the frown lines you must have, if you make that face every hour of the day?” When Buggy scowled at him, Yasopp said, “I’m not a subtle man, remember? If you want somebody to pretend to believe your lies, you’re looking at the wrong guy.”

Buggy sighed. As Yasopp locked the workroom up behind them, he admitted, “It… was good to get out of my head for a while.” Yasopp gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, and they left it at that.

Lunch was a bit less exciting than the past few days had led Buggy to expect: the fried rice with pickled cabbage and ham that had been served with Shanks’ breakfast was the main dish on offer, with other repurposed leftovers making up the rest of the meal. When Roux wasn’t looking, Buggy gave him a curious look. The rest of the crew had been on their best behavior, according to Beckman… so, had Lucky Roux been showing off? If he had, it had worked on Buggy; he still wanted to poach Roux for his own crew, even if this less impressive offering was his usual fare.

Eating his bowl of rice with a couple promising-looking toppings—all well-spiced and delicious, of course—Buggy made his way out onto the main deck. A few Red-Haired and Whitebeard Pirates glanced Buggy’s way, but most of them had gotten used to Buggy over the last few days and returned to their meals without paying him any mind. He peered down at the lower deck, crowded with men in worn prison uniforms standing in surprisingly well-organized clusters of twos and fours, finishing their lunch.

“Afternoon, men!” he called.

“Captain Buggy!” they cheered.

“Let’s see,” Buggy said, and on a whim set aside his bowl to chop off his feet and swoop down, close enough to excite his men but just out of reach. “Aren’t you arranged all nice and orderly? It looks like you did as I asked.”

“Of course!”

“We’d do anything you asked, Captain Buggy!”

Buggy grinned. Music to his ears. “Then I suppose I should reward you, shouldn’t I?” A few excited sounds rose from the crowd as Buggy returned to his spot on the deck above them. “Hm… I’ve told you a few stories of the old days with Captain Roger, and a few more adventures of the great Captain Buggy’s crew. But there’s someone I’ve yet to introduce you to, a captain who’s been allied with me and mine these last few months.” Someone who might need some convincing to cooperate with the sudden appearance of all these guys… and who was more eager for praise than even Buggy. “Let me tell you how the strong, beautiful Iron Mace Alvida saved my life.”

A hush fell over the crowd.

“Yes, I know what you’re thinking: the great Captain Buggy, in need of rescue?!” The wide-eyed stares Buggy received confirmed this. And by the look of it, some of the men were mentally tacking on the phrase by a woman? to that question, as he’d suspected they would. Yeah, best to nip that potential problem in the bud. “Well, I’d been through a terrible trial in the days leading up to our first meeting. Separated from my crew, from my body, alone on a half-wrecked ship, starving, a vicious sea monster rising out of the waves before me, his many-toothed maw dripping with drool, eager to eat me—when suddenly! A great iron mace came down on his skull!” Buggy slammed his lunch bowl against the railing, the crash of metal on wood drawing the eye of every man below.

Buggy grinned. If they hadn’t been hooked before, they sure were now.

He fudged some of the details, of course—no need to reveal exactly who had put him through that terrible trial, or how his crew had behaved in his absence. But the broad strokes were true enough, and the changes he made were in support of his reason for telling the story: to convince these guys to respect Alvida, to flatter her as they did him, to make this joining of forces go as smoothly as possible. Sure, it didn’t put Buggy in the best light, at least not at first, but he didn’t want Alvida taking a perceived slight out on a man who might be able to stand up to her mace. If revealing one of his weaknesses was how he avoided that disaster, so be it.

He was just reaching the ‘rescuing his crew from cannibals’ climax of the story when a cry rang out from above: “Land ho!”

Finally. The relief that rushed through Buggy nearly made him cry. After all the many hells he’d been through since being arrested… things could finally start getting back to normal.

“We’ll continue this story after we disembark,” Buggy announced, to a few disappointed groans from his men. “Find your buddy if you lost track of him during lunch! Make sure you both have everything you’re taking with you! Stay out of the way of the Red-Haired Pirates while they’re get us to shore, but be ready to leave the second we’re docked!”

“Aye, Captain!”

But of course, it wasn’t quite that simple.

Buggy found Galdino sitting in the empty mess with Lucky Roux, making polite conversation over a pot of tea. Though, with these two, it might not actually be the conversation it seemed to be—something about the island Roux sourced his tea from? Apparently it was a distinctive blend, and hard to acquire.

“Did you need something, Buggy?” Galdino asked, an undertone of irritation to his voice. Because of course Buggy needed something, why else did he ever seek Galdino out?

Well, if Galdino didn’t want to be used, he shouldn’t have made himself so useful.

“The dock’s gone,” Buggy said. “Either rotted through or swept away in a storm.”

Galdino glanced up at him, and set down his teacup. “Well, at least it’ll be a challenge. Lucky Roux, it’s been a pleasure.”

“It’s sure been something, having you people aboard,” Roux said with a wide smile. “Hopefully not for the last time.”

Buggy snorted. “In your captain’s dreams.”

Galdino muffled a laugh in his fist; Roux didn’t bother concealing his amusement. Buggy realized how his words had come off, scowled, and stormed out of the mess with a mutter of, “Come on, Galdino.”

The two of them joined Beckman and the Red-Haired Pirates’ navigator at the bow of the ship, and considered the space where a dock clearly used to be. A ship this big, an island with such a sharp drop from shore to sea? They wouldn’t be able to land without a dock.

“Can you do it?” Beckman asked.

“I’ll need to begin from the shore,” Galdino said, thoughtful. “If it isn’t well anchored from the start it’ll drift away.”

“That’s no problem.” Buggy chopped his feet off and leaned forward, letting Galdino sit cross-legged on his back. He flew them to shore, where Galdino made some long wax spears that Buggy wedged into place. When they were securely dug in, Galdino melted the tops of the spears and, starting from that spot, created more wax to mold into a floating dock. Nothing that would be any good at anchoring a ship the size of the Red Force long-term, but they didn’t intend to be here any longer than necessary. So long as it could hold firm while the men disembarked, that was all they needed.

While Galdino worked, Buggy hovered above the canopy, looking for any kind of promising location to settle his men. He quickly spotted the ruins Beckman had mentioned—several of the old buildings were tall enough to be seen well above the treetops, the gray of the stone standing out against all the greenery of the jungle. There was one with a large paved area around it, not far from the shore, which seemed promising. Buggy took a moment to fix the spot in his memory, then went back to tell Galdino about it.

Galdino barely paid him any mind. He was focused on his work, and confident enough in it to stand on the dock as he was building it, a foot or two of wax all that separated him from the awful, helpless death that awaited any Devil Fruit user in the ocean. It was bold of him; Buggy preferred a nice, reliable boat any day.

“Any messages to pass on to the men?” he asked, hovering at Galdino’s shoulder.

“They’ll need to be light on their feet, and should stick to the center of the dock,” Galdino said. He was starting to sweat; extruding this much wax in one go must take a lot of effort. “If their weight isn’t balanced right, one wrong move could capsize this whole thing.”

Buggy blanched. Yeah, he could never. “Noted,” he squeaked, and flew back to the Red Force to convey these instructions.

Despite Galdino’s warnings, the disembarkation went well. Buggy watched with no small amount of pride as the buddy system worked beautifully, each pair of men walking down the gangplank, across the waxen dock, and onto the shore without any signs of a bottleneck developing. Being listened to was nice—it was very nice—but being listened to, having your orders followed, and seeing them work exactly as you imagined, now that was heaven. Buggy might not be the strongest pirate the world had ever seen, but damn it, he was good at this shit.

As the last dozen pairs prepared to leave the Red Force, Buggy felt a gentle weight press down on his foot. He frowned, tried to remember where he’d left his feet, and only then noticed a presence on the main deck that made his hackles rise.

Shanks.

“Are you holding my feet hostage?”

“That depends,” Shanks said, giving Buggy an unreadable look. “Are you leaving without saying goodbye?”

Oh, this guy. On his own ship, surrounded on all sides by his most trusted officers, and still managing to look like some kind of miserable wet cat, terrified of being left alone.

“And how was I supposed to say goodbye to someone who’s been hiding from me?” Buggy asked, instead of the dozen meaner things he wanted to say.

Shanks glanced away, suddenly awkward, and Buggy took the opportunity to look him over. The shower had done him good, gotten him clean of all that secondhand makeup—though it had not, Buggy noticed with a quiet little thrill, removed the bruises that had apparently been hiding underneath some of that makeup. His hair looked nicer, almost healthy, even pinned back by the sunglasses Shanks had propped up high on his forehead. “Are these the shame glasses I’ve heard so much about?”

Shanks’ hand rose to fiddle with the temple of the glasses. “Ah, yeah.”

“I thought your crew was supposed to laugh at you while you were wearing them?”

“They’ve been laughing at me, all day,” Shanks said, tired. “And they’ve been right to, given… everything.”

Well, that was ominous.

With a sigh, Shanks said, “There’s something I should have told you earlier, Buggy, but there never seemed to be a good time, and… I didn’t know how to say it.” A sheepish smile pulling at the corner of his lip, he said, “I still don’t, to be honest,” and pulled the sunglasses down over his eyes.

It took Buggy a moment to put it together. Shanks’ discomfort, the way the large mirrored lenses took up so much space on his face, the nervous twist of his lips… then Shanks ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and it clicked. All the blood draining out of his face, Buggy caught Beckman’s eye; he nodded, ever so slightly.

(Fuck.)

Buggy got up in Shanks’ face, looking past his own wide-eyed reflection to confirm that spark of recognition. Shanks leaned back, Buggy reconnected to his own feet, and at this angle… yeah, he knew that face. He’d kissed it, once.

(Oh fuck, he’d pickpocketed that guy, too.)

Fighting down a hysterical burst of laughter, Buggy said, voice high-pitched from the strain, “Well, uh, thanks for the ride, Shanks! I’d say I owe you one, but I’m pretty sure you still owe me another two or three dozen favors before we’re even.” He backed up, hands brushing along the railing as he inched towards the stairs, and beyond them the gangplank, the dock, the island, freedom.

(Somewhere he could have a little breakdown about this revelation in private.)

“Buggy…” Shanks cautiously held out a hand.

Buggy pulled back out of reach. “I’m not saying goodbye to you, Shanks!” he snapped. Shanks faltered, his hurt visible even past those ridiculous sunglasses, and Buggy sighed. Did he have to spell it out? “Stupid. I already told you.”

Confusion wasn’t a much better look on Shanks. Well, either he’d figure out or he wouldn’t.

Buggy rolled his eyes, spun around, and ran off. Over his shoulder, he promised, “Until next time, Red-Hair!”

#notfic #the near miss fics #one piece #shuggy #buggy #shanks #now if you’ll excuse me i’m going to sleep for a week #orz why is writing so easy at the beginning and so hard at the end

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sarcastic-positivity · 5 months

Note

It was the middle of July and despite Tim’s aspirations as a kid, he did not, in fact, have a job that gave him summers off. As such, it was a miserable affair, getting to and from work. Usually Tim would be in an airy t-shirt and shorts but Jon had caught sight of his Hawaiian themed top last week and it had been a close thing to avoid being forced to go home and change. It would be a few weeks before he could get away with such a ‘blatant display of disrespect for work procedures’, as Jon put it, so here he was: sweating his ass off on the tube and praying to whatever god would listen that they’d fixed the AC at the Institute.

God never did like Tim.

“Christ above, does Elias want us dead or something?” Tim cried to the room at large as he dropped heavily onto his spinny chair. It was stifling. “What did we ever do to him, huh?? Did someone submit a statement about Bigfoot again?” He immediately started popping buttons on his ‘work appropriate’ shirt.

Sasha popped her head up from her cubicle and grinned at him. Her waist-length braids had been piled sloppily on top of her head and she looked about ready to topple over from the imbalance. She’d already shed her top layer down to a simple purple tank top but she still had a sheen of sweat on her brow that had her large round glasses slipping down her nose.

“Pretty sure it’s cause Gerry called him an old codger and compared him to the statement giver from the McGregor case last week. He’s out for revenge now.”

Tim wrinkled his nose. “What, the stuffy one with the cane who wouldn’t shut up about how the Tories are implementing a surveillance state?”

“The very same,” Sash confirmed, pushing her glasses back up with a hand. “Though I personally think Elias would be very pro Big Brother. Did I tell you he asked after my aunt the other week?”

“You told Elias about Matilda’s lung cancer?”

“That’s just it! The only person I told about that was you, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t run off to tattle to Elias.” She leaned forward in her chair conspiratorial and Tim couldn’t help but do the same. Sash was magnetic when she was like this. It had led to more than one rendezvous in their first year at the Institute. “I think he has cameras down here.”

It wasn’t the most insane theory she’d come up with, somehow. Just two months ago she’d followed Jon home because she didn’t believe he actually had a home; she’d thought he’d been sleeping in the Institute of all places. Besides, there was that feeling of being watched that pervaded this place. Still, Tim couldn’t help but laugh.

“I think we’d know if he had cameras, Sash. Did I tell you what he-”

“What fresh hell is this?” The voice from the doorway was flat and scathing and Tim immediately spun in his chair to grin at the intruder.

“Gerry!” He called happily. “I didn’t know you were coming in today!” He was wearing his signature black trenchcoat and a scowl that did things to Tim. Luckily for both of them, Tim was well guarded against Gerry’s scary-sexy goth vibe by virtue of sharing a flat with him. There were only so many times you could get a chub from simply looking at your roommate before your prick just gave up on the enterprise entirely.

“There’s a statement I need but this is fucking ridiculous.” His voice was as deep and rough as it always was but the angry edge to it managed to send a little zing down Tim’s spine. The days that Gerry showed up at work are always so interesting. “It’s at least 10 degrees hotter in here than it is outside. The fuck is Elias thinking?”

“Gonna rough him up for us, Ger?” Tim asked with a grin and Sasha laughed. “Stomp on him a little with those boots of yours? 10 quid says he’s into it.” Gerard shot him a look but there was a smile playing around his lips, pulling slightly at the snakebite piercings there. His makeup that day was the same as it usually was, eyeliner and three exaggerated lower lashes that made his gaze all the more intense. Thank god for the aforementioned Roommate Protection. Especially when Gerry’s eyes swept over Tim before meeting his eyes again and giving a mocking little smile. His eyes were slate grey and impossible to look away from.

“Projecting much, Stoker?” He asked in a low tone. It was teasing and Sasha cackled but Tim’s brain stuttered and properly died. What did one say when a hot goth implied that you maybe wanted him to stomp on you with his giant sexy boots? Especially when it was true.

“What, you wanna find out, Keay?” Tim shot back. That was good. Keep it light, let it plausibly pass for playful workplace banter – a little bit of light flirting to keep thoughts of the heat at bay. Gerry arched a brow at him, face betraying nothing but that same cool amusement. Sasha snorted and shook her head, turning back to her computer.

“You two are ridiculous,” she told them. Tim shrugged, eyes still on Gerry, and then Jon’s office door creaked open.

“Oh good, you’re here, Gerard.” Gerry’s eyes flicked away. “You said you needed the Anderson file?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Gerry said. He passed by Tim’s desk to take the file from Jon. Tim turned back to his desk. “By the way, your workplace is a HSE violation waiting to happen.”

“Yes, I am quite aware,” Jon said drily. “Make sure to get that one back to me by the end of the day. And not stinking of smoke this time, Gerard. I have more notes I plan to add to it.”

“No promises.”

・・・

Inevitably, it was Tim who had to go hunt Gerry down at a quarter to five to get the file back. Luckily the fire exit to the left of the stairs to the archives was conspicuously propped open by an unopened carton of cigarettes and Tim pushed outside into the slightly cooler summer air.

Gerard was lounged on the steps leading to the back alley, facing away from the door with the file open at his feet and a lit cigarette in hand. He’d tied his hair up sloppily, much like Sasha had hers, but it was so long that black sheets of it still cascaded down his bare shoulders. His trenchcoat had been completely abandoned, laid out on the step beside him, and he was left only in a crop top Tim had never seen before. It was made of a sheer grey material that matched his eyes and had no sleeves to speak of. Even worse, Gerry had a hand tucked under his shirt, shucking the top halfway up his chest. His alabaster skin shone in the dim light of the setting sun and Tim nearly took a tumble down the steps when Gerry tilted his head back to look back at him.

“What?” Gerry asked in a gravelly voice when he caught Tim staring. Tim opened his mouth to respond but he suddenly found himself incapable of speech. Gerry rolled his eyes and turned his head languidly back forward, lifting his cigarette to his lips. “AC’s broken inside but it’s barely any cooler out here. Don’t be a prude.”

That surprised a laugh out of Tim. “A- A prude?!” He choked out. Never in his life had he been accused of such a thing. And this, this was so far on the opposite side of the scale he wanted to laugh. Or cry. Gerry just blew a smoke ring.

“If you’re here for the file, it’s there.” He kicked at the manila folder at his feet and Tim could hear the wounded noise Jon would make if he were there. Right, Tim had actually come for a reason that wasn’t to ogle Gerry. Supposedly.

“Right.” Tim cleared his throat and picked his way down the steps so as to not step on Gerry. God, did his legs have to be so long? “This thing has gotta reek by now,” he said as he bent down for the file. “Pretty sure the boss man won’t be too happy with you about that one.” He turned back and around and Gerry quickly lifted his eyes. His eyes were a warm hazy grey, much like the smoke drifting around his head.

“Afraid of Sims then, are you?” He drawled. His piercings glinted as he grinned at Tim.

Tim rolled his eyes and made his way back up the steps. He very pointedly kept his gaze on the ground as he did so, enticingly bare torso be damned. “Everything’s a question with you,” he said. “‘Projecting much? Afraid of Sims?’ Just call me a bottom and get on with it.”

Gerry rasped out a chuckle right as Tim reached the top step. Tim hesitated but couldn’t help but glance back down behind him. Gerry’s head was tilted back, hair messy and top askew, and his eyes half lidded against the dying light behind Tim’s head.

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

He was sight to see, all stretched out and half clothed on the steps to the alley. Tim shook his head and turned back inside without another word. Gerry’s rapsing laugh followed him all the way into the archives.

Damn tease.

SPEECHLESS. SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP. THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED AND MORE THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE HOLY SHIT IM LOSING MY MIND

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neteyammeowmeow · 4 months

Note

helllooo jay its me i am like a little bug and i am asking u ... for ... bloyd hcs.. bc u get me so hard.... only if its not too much troubl...

HAIII OOMF, I GOT YOU💯 Most of these are set in the Monastery btw :3

This is after the Merge and after they reunite, errm, Benthomaar’s really clingy in the morning, when Lloyd wakes up he finds out he’s being hugged like he’s going to get squeezed to death, and Bentho’s excuse is that it’s really cold up when it’s still sunrise and Lloyd’s really warm (he’s just attached). Bentho also likes to give Lloyd forehead kisses with it, like he’d just savor every second they get to spend with each other because they’re usually busy after.

Based on Lloyd’s leaked outfit for S2, Benthomaar helps Lloyd wear his clothes before he starts the day, it’s not that Lloyd’s outfit has so much accessories or anything but literally just for quality time (they’re the married couple that never gets married). Benthomaar would stand behind Lloyd and help him drape the outer over his shoulders, and fix the sash around his waist, but right after he hugs him with his arms wrapped around him and Lloyd tries to escape his clutches by saying that the kids are waiting for him (his face is actually really flustered but he doesn’t try to break from Bentho’s arms either way).

Lloyd’s the one that cooks in the relationship, he learned his skills from Zane (and surprisingly Cole (HE’S LITERALLY INDONESIAN!)) and from the massive stack of recipe books scattered in the kitchen. Benthomaar loves to accompany him whenever he can, though he’s not that interested and is picky about surface dweller food, he’s curious on how to make them using so many varying essentials. When Lloyd’s by the counter chopping a dish, Benthomaar would hug his waist from the back (he loves doing that because his head can rest on Lloyd’s head) and either Bentho asks what Lloyd’s doing, or they just stay in silence. Either way, if it’s raw fish that Lloyd’s cutting, he’d just grab a chunk and feeds it to Bentho. They sometimes share small talk about anything in the kitchen, like it’s just one of their favorite places to be.

Lloyd sometimes likes to fidget by touching Benthomaar’s fingers because his skin texture is different than humans, he usually does it while they’re talking or just out of the blue, if he’s really nervous or anxious about something he’d grab Bentho’s hand really hard, Bentho’s concerned for him and also his own hand because it feels like it could snap.

Benthomaar is royalty, and it’s definitely more usual for them to have servants that aid them around, such as preparing food, or cleaning their rooms, and so much more. However, there are no servants to help aid in the Monastery, Benthomaar is entirely on his own when it comes to such things. Lloyd was one of the Ninja that helped teach him how to do mundane, day to day tasks and chores, it’s not much — but it mattered enough for Benthomaar, he wasn’t treated like a King when he’s around Lloyd, Lloyd treats him as Benthomaar, like a friend, a lover, and a partner.

The servants had always kept the palace spotless and the shine of the marble floor was like how the light glittered upon the sea’s surface, Benthomaar never had to bother to clean them, because it was not his task there, but in the Monastery, he has to take care of it, his role played just the same as the Ninja. So there he was, in the hallways of his surface home, with Lloyd’s hand on his, trying to teach him how to sweep properly with a broom, and how to make sure he doesn’t scatter the dust and dirt he had gathered with it.

Food was always prepared by the hunters, and prepared in the dining room neatly and tidy. Benthomaar’s only duty was to finish the food of his plate and leave politely, following the etiquette his father had taught him. But in the Monastery, he finds himself helping Lloyd read the instructions from the recipe book, learning of the unique edible flora of the surface world, and the variety of their dishes and spices.

And after, he helps Lloyd clean the dishes. Lloyd tells him that there are two soaps, one in the glass bottle is to wash his hands, and the other in the plastic bottle, was to squeeze for the dirty kitchenware — there were also three different sponges all in different colors. The pink one was to wash the plates, forks, spoons, or knives, the other types of tools needed to cook that Benthomaar struggled to remember the names of. The blue one was to wash the drinks, specifically only drinks, Lloyd told him it was because Jay one day brought up how it felt weird that they used the same sponge for everything, and it might “Make the water taste weird”. The yellow one was to wash the entire sink and other things that weren’t used directly for cooking, just to make sure it’s extra sanitary. Lloyd also taught him to put cloth around the sink so that the water wouldn’t splatter all over the counter, at first, Bentho was confuse because he assumed washing the dishes wouldn’t be such a struggle, but in the end it was rather challenging, because the water did in fact, get everywhere. It was a humbling moment, but the laughter and the exasperated sigh Lloyd gave Bentho was funny and memorable.

6. After the Merge, Lloyd was genuinely worried for Benthomaar’s fate, he wasn’t sure if he was alive, or he was hurt, what if something had happened to him and he never knew about it? What if Benthomaar ended up on the other side of the earth? Will they ever see each other again? Here’s another thing to mention, Lloyd never had the chance to truly confess to Benthomaar about his feelings, and now he doesn’t know if he’ll get one at all. It gave him a lot of time to reflect, he questioned himself if he was going to move on, he didn’t realize how much Benthomaar’s presence impacted him just as much as his family had. He finds himself anticipating a figure that fell asleep on his desk due to overworking, having to carry them into the bed so they can properly rest, he finds himself waking up and missing the sight of the color blue laying beside him, he misses the fingers that would thread his hair for comfort whilst sharing conversations about so many topics, odd ones, funny ones, all of it. He missed it, he missed Benthomaar so much, it was a while that he last felt his heart thudding weird that somehow brought a smile to his face, just as the smile he saw on the face of his friend — it was so bright and gentle.

7. But what about Benthomaar? Does he carry the same sentiment? Of course he does. However, whilst Lloyd had more time to spend alone and think, Benthomaar was always surrounded by persons and crowds, his duties as a King had only put more of a burden upon him as Merlopia grows stronger and bigger as time passes, there was so much that overwhelmed him than he expected. Benthomaar wonders if he’ll ever get to share another moment with Lloyd, he wonders if Lloyd were there with him, what would he do, seeing Benthomaar buried within a flood of letters and papers? Would he scold him? Would he drag him away from his seat to rest? Would he try to create a distraction as Benthomaar suddenly finds himself laughing and hugging the one that he loved dearly, pushing his worries for his kingdom another day? Benthomaar would grip his head tightly, suddenly exhaling and looking out the windows of his chamber, perhaps, once he can finally break free from his tasks, he’ll find a way to meet Lloyd again.

8. They don’t admit how much they were yearning once they’ve reunited, they end up being very awkward. Because they’re really happy and glad that both of them are safe and sound, but there’s so much left unsaid — left to be said. Do they share the same feelings? Have they changed so much after the Merge? It takes a while, but slowly they start to reconnect, and they are back as they once were.

9. It’s actually funny how they got together, because it wasn’t through a confession or a proposal, it wasn’t through words said during a beautiful sunset or sunrise, or during a rainy day where everything felt comfortable and right, or even during the midst of battle. It was because of Sora and Arin.

“What??”

“Well, you know, me and Arin don’t mind if we get another dad.”

“What— what makes you say that? Who’s your other dad?”

“That guy you keep hanging out with, his name’s Bentho, right? I mean, he’s a really fun guy and he’s nice, as long as it’s not anyone evil, right?”

“Sora, what are you talking about???”

And later, once Kai heard, he laughs so loud and pats Sora on the back while snickering, saying, “he’s always been that bad, kid.” Nya only rolled her eyes because they all knew that their youngest brother was truly dumb when it came to himself.

Thank u… :3

#ninjago #lloyd garmadon #benthomaar #ninjago lloyd #ninjago benthomaar #deepseaenergy #deepseaenergyshipping #bloyd #ninjago headcanons #ninjago kai #ninjago sora #ninjago nya #ninjago zane #ninjago cole #i know they’re like cameo mentions but they matter to me…

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e-dubbc11 · 29 days

Text

Stripped

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x F! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, male strip club shenanigans, lots of fun, fluff, and humor

Word Count: 4.1K-ish (who knew I had this much to say about Stripper! Rumlow 🤣😉)

Summary: Brock and Reader are in an established relationship. He’s been leaving to go to “work” at night and Reader seems to think he’s keeping something from her. Reader goes out with her friends for a friend’s birthday celebration and gets a surprise of her own.

A/N: Based on a conversation between me and my lovely Lily @munsonownsmyass She always has wonderful ideas and this one was a lot of fun. Lily and I bounced dialogue off of each other that I did put in towards the end of this fic. I also made a playlist to go along with this and I’ll link that at the end. Real life Ginger @gijos helped me with a few details for this one too. I hope you like it! 🩵

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“Didn’t you work already today, Brock?” You asked, looking up from your book.

Your boyfriend, Brock Rumlow, looked down at you with his whiskey colored eyes and nervously replied, “I did, doll. But this just came up and I’ll get paid extra for it so I have to go.”

The nervous tone to his voice told you he wasn’t exactly telling you the whole truth.

“Are you sure that’s all it is, baby?” You asked, softly.

He cocked his head slightly and gave you a half smile.

“Of course it is, sweetheart.” He replied.

Brock leaned down to kiss you on the forehead and with his work bag slung over his shoulder, he headed for the front door.

“It won’t take too long, I promise.” He said. Brock’s voice sounded tired and extra raspy after the long day he already had.

He had been doing these late night jobs for awhile now, but it just sounded like they weren’t the normal type of work he did for SHIELD. You had no reason not to trust him, he always came home when he said he would, and never broke his promises.

Later that night

You could feel the heat radiating off of his body when he spooned up behind you, his strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he kissed your bare shoulder. The combination of his natural scent was mixed with something unfamiliar, cologne, perfume, or maybe both? But you ignored it and drifted back to sleep.

You were just happy he was home safe with you.

**********

The next morning, the aroma of coffee wafted past your nose as you rolled over in bed. The space next to you was cold where Brock had been sleeping, and you wondered how long he had been awake for.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” Brock said with a warm smile as you slowly walked into the kitchen.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you asked him, “You must have gotten home pretty late, huh?”

The smile disappeared from his face. He could tell that you were a little upset.

“Yeah, I tried not to wake you, doll. I thought I was being quiet and I’m sorry if I woke you, baby. I really did try not to.” Said Brock.

The look on his face and the tone of his voice told you he felt bad for getting home late and disturbing your sleep but you decided it would be best if you just let it go. Brock felt bad enough without you giving him a bunch of shit for working late. He did apologize for it.

“It’s ok, baby.” You said with a slight smile. “May I have some coffee, please?”

As Brock poured coffee into your favorite mug, you reminded him that you were going out tonight with your friends for a birthday celebration. It was your friend Shannon’s birthday and she decided that she wanted to go see some strippers.

“What?” Brock asked as his lips pulled into a straight line and his voice dipped a little lower, the rasp a little more prominent.

“Yeah…you know it’s not really my thing but that’s what she wanted to do. She’s the birthday girl. You should see her, she bought a sash and everything.” You said with a slight chuckle.

Brock didn’t seem amused at all. He ran his thick fingers through his dark brown hair and hesitated before asking you, “Well, uh, which…which one, I mean, yeah so which club are you going to?”

Taking a sip of your coffee, you raised your eyebrows and shrugged.

“I dunno. I think Shannon said it was a place that’s a little ‘classier’ than the usual ‘bingo hall’ type male strip clubs. These are her words, not mine, baby. I think they’re all a little sleazy.” You said.

“S-so you really don’t know which one you’re going to?” Brock asked again, scratching his head.

You vigorously shook your head back and forth.

The scowl on his face returned as he slowly stroked his beard, his hair still messy from sleep and he pondered carefully on what to say next.

Brock was gazing down at the floor when you tilted his chin up so his eyes were focused on yours.

“What’s the matter, handsome? Do you not want me to go?” You asked, shyly.

He responded quickly.

“No, I mean…of course I want you to go. It’s your friend’s birthday and I would never tell you that you couldn’t do something, you know that. I have to work again tonight anyway.” Said Brock.

“Must be important if they need you on a Saturday night.” You said.

Brock nodded.

Neither one of you had any plans for the day until later so you suggested going out to lunch. He agreed and the two of you had a nice afternoon together.

**********

Brock called out to you from the kitchen before leaving for work.

“Hey doll?!! I’m leavin’ in a minute.”

You had just finished getting dressed. Taking him completely by surprise, you ran into the kitchen, leaped into his arms and planted a kiss on his lips.

He set you back down onto the floor with his hands still wrapped tightly around your waist. Deepening the kiss, his tongue gently pressed against your teeth, begging for access to your mouth. Parting your lips, your tongue tangled with his while he gently brushed his fingers against your lace shirt.

As he rubbed the fabric in between his thick fingers, Brock glanced down at your outfit and pulled away slightly.

“What are you wearin’?” He asked.

You glanced down at your outfit, a sleeveless black lace shirt, tight jeans, and black over-the-knee boots. Turning around in a circle so he could get a better look (and see what he was going to be missing), you gazed up at him through your long dark lashes and replied, “What? You don’t like it?”

You were taunting him but only a little. Brock didn’t really react well to being teased but he tolerated it from you. He kissed the tip of your nose and answered, “Of course I like it, sweetheart. As I’m sure every other man will too when they get a look at ya.”

You rolled your eyes. Brock could be slightly possessive and intimidating but for the most part he would just use his bark and not his bite.

“Baby, it’s not MY birthday. Besides, you know I like to look nice when I go out.” You said.

He looked you over from head to toe.

“Uh huh. You look a little TOO nice, y/n.” Said Brock. “What time are you leaving?”

Glancing at the time on the stove, you replied, “I dunno, an hour or so.”

Brock looked at his watch and said, “Alright, well I gotta get goin’. I’ll see you later.”

“Ok baby, well you be careful. I love you.” You said, with a sly smile and a wrinkle in your nose.

He loved how playful you were and when you were, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Have fun, beautiful. Not TOO much fun, huh? I love you too.” He said.

Brock kissed the tip of your nose, waved and walked out. You heard the bike start up and drive away. He usually didn’t get that worked up over you going out and you wondered why it bothered him so much, but then again you were going to watch male strippers.

Maybe he had a point, you knew how you would feel if female strippers were to grind up against him. It was just a reminder to make sure that the only one receiving any attention tonight, would be the birthday girl.

**********

“Uh, I didn’t think we’d be sitting this close.” You said looking at the stage directly in front of you.

“Yeah…it’s great, isn’t it?!!” Shannon exclaimed.

She was very excited so you just smiled a wide smile and gave her the thumbs up. You were happy because she was happy but you really hoped it wasn’t a curse being so close to the stage. You didn’t want to be singled out or pulled up onto the stage.

Everyone sat down, you turned to another friend that came along, Camilla, and asked, “Uh, s-so do they strip all the way down to, umm, a g-string orrrrr…?”

Camilla laughed and asked, “You’ve really never been to something like this before?”

Looking around, you shook your head nervously.

“Some of them do but a lot of them just strip down to their boxer briefs.” She said.

Still, extremely nervous, you replied, “Oh ok.”

She grabbed a hold of your arm and said, “Relax! We’re here to have fun! Tell that hottie over there to bring you a drink!”

That made you laugh, and you covered your eyes in embarrassment. She was right, you were there to have fun so you motioned for the very handsome shirtless server in a bowtie to come over so you could order a drink.

Even though you’ve never been to anything like this before, it didn’t mean that you were going to show up unprepared.

“Holy shit, y/n!!” Exclaimed Shannon. “How many ones did you bring?” She asked.

You glanced down at the wad of cash in your hand and replied, “Well, there’s a hundred here. Do you think I need more?” You asked in a semi-serious tone.

Everyone just laughed. Camilla touched your shoulder and with a wide smile stretched across her face, she sarcastically replied, “I dunno. You might wanna hit up that ATM at the front of the club.”

With your lips firmly pressed together, you glared at her before replying, “Very funny.”

**********

As the lights dimmed, a spotlight shone on the microphone that was placed in the center of the stage. A chiseled man in a leather vest and cowboy hat walked out as all the people in the audience, most of them women, started to clap and shriek uncontrollably.

Rolling your eyes slightly, you watched as the emcee took the mic and your friends collectively lost their minds over the cowboy in the black leather vest, while the song Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy played in the background.

He tried to calm the crowd but they just screeched even louder. When he did finally get everyone to settle down, he spoke.

“Are you animals ready to have some fun tonight?!!” The cowboy asked with a wide devilish grin.

The audience squealed, hollered and whistled in response. Looking around, you noticed everyone was clapping and very eager for the show to start. The drink you ordered was almost gone and it seemed to be doing its job to help you loosen up a little so you ordered another.

“I see we have some birthday girls in here tonight! Start getting excited because we have something fun planned for you. Alright…up first is a walking cliché but hey, it works. He’s a firefighter by day but also turns the hose on at night, if ya know what I mean. Please welcome ‘Blaze’ to the stage.”

The stage went dark, the music started and the spotlight reappeared. At first you noticed the boots, the dark pants with yellow stripes at the bottom, and the hat. He wasn’t wearing a shirt but he had suspenders on.

Under the lights, his near perfect body glistened under the bright lights and your jaw dropped. With the song Sex on Fire playing, Blaze took in the crowd’s energy and then took their dollar bills.

Removing one suspender strap and then the other, he was completely bare chested now dancing around the stage which is when he stopped in front of you. Slapping some dollar bills down in front of him, you felt yourself start to blush but you managed a shy smile anyway.

He removed his fireman’s helmet, winked, and placed it on top of your head. He danced away to the other side of the stage to finish removing his pants, revealing the short red boxer briefs with flames on them that he had on underneath.

Well that was fun.

“You’d never know that it’s your first time at a place like this!” Said Shannon with an excited smile. “You fit right in, sweetie!”

As the night progressed, you watched all the birthday girls get pulled up on stage and all of the “Magic Mikes” made their night by giving them each their own private dance. Shannon and the others looked like they were having a great time. Also, you and your other friends were having a blast, laughing and tossing dollar bills on stage.

The chiseled cowboy reemerged from backstage to take the mic again.

“Alright birthday girls, I hope you enjoyed your surprises. Now…we’re gonna rock out for this next guy. He has a day job but refuses to tell me what it is, says it’s ‘classified information’ which I take to mean that he’s a spy of some sort. What do you guys think, huh?” He asked.

Everyone started clapping and screaming, preparing themselves for the next dancer. Still wearing the fireman’s helmet, you checked to see how many dollar bills you had left. “That last group of guys were a little expensive,” you thought to yourself as you bit back a smile.

Camilla leaned over and asked you, “So…what do you think is comin’ out here next?”

You pondered for a minute before answering her.

Finally, you replied, “Well, let’s see…we’ve seen a firefighter, M.C. Hammer the construction worker, Captain Breaststroke, the swimmer that stripped down to his Speedo, guy in a three-piece suit, and a bunch of ‘Magic Mikes’…maybe the rest of the Village People are comin’ out next?!”

You started laughing which made Camilla laugh.

“Do you guys do this a lot? Ya know when I’m not around?” You asked the group. “I will admit it is fun but also REALLY cheesy.”

Woody the Cowboy started to talk again.

“Well, it’s a nice night outside but in here it’s about to get dark and stormy. Are you all ready to get…Thunderstruck?” He asked in a breathy whisper into the mic.

As the crowd clapped and screamed in anticipation for the next dancer, you remembered that Thunderstruck is one of Brock’s favorite songs and you hoped he was staying safe at work tonight.

“Ok you crazy animals, get your dollar bills ready and put your hands together for Romeo!” The cowboy said, enthusiastically.

The stage went dark and the cowboy took the mic and the stand with him as he walked off. The lighting linked up with the intro to the song and a silhouette dressed in all black emerged from backstage. His tight black undershirt had a heart in the middle and he wore loose black pants that could be removed quickly.

Flashes of light brightened up the stage for moments at a time then went dark again as the man came closer, moving his hips from side to side. From what you could see, he had dark hair and his toned tan skin glistened under the brief flashes of light.

As he moved closer to the front of the stage, his handsome face came into focus and your jaw dropped to the floor when you saw those amber eyes staring down at you. The music and screams from the crowd were drowned out inside your head. The silence was deafening as your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest, heat rose to your cheeks and your blood burned like wildfire in your veins.

Your friends froze in place when they saw Brock’s face, then turned to look at you seething with anger. Dollar bills were tightly clenched in your fist, the fireman’s hat still on your head when his name escaped your lips, and not in the good way.

“BROCK?!!!!” You yelled as loud as you possibly could.

He didn’t move and was just as surprised to see you as you were to see him. Everyone in the audience stopped and became very quiet.

“Oh shit…Ok, I can explain this.” He finally said after a minute of awkward silence.

“The hell are you doin’ here?!!” You shouted.

“My job, baby! I didn’t think you’d be HERE!” He replied.

“Obviously!!” Narrowing your eyes and glaring at him, you replied, “Start talkin’, ‘ROMEO’! Let’s go!”

You turned on your heels and headed for the entrance to the club with Brock hot on your heels while the cowboy came back out and introduced another dancer.

“Sweetheart…wait!” Brock called out after you.

Not even giving him a chance to explain, you just started yelling.

“THIS is what you’ve been doing when you said you had to go back to work?!!” You asked in an angry tone. “Am I not enough for you, Brock? That you need to get attention from every horny woman in town?!!”

Your breathing became very shallow and your heart felt like it was being squeezed as the pain in your chest persisted. If the dollar bills weren’t clutched in your dominant hand, you would have punched him in the face. You were that angry.

“I ain’t doin’ this for the reason you might think, doll. Alright?! I’m doin’ this because—“ Brock paused; he continued to stare at you and remained quiet.

“I’m waiting, Rumlow!” You said, folding your arms protectively across your chest.

“Sweetheart, it’s a little hard to take you seriously while you’re still wearing the fireman’s helmet.” He said with a half-smile.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Brock?!!” You said, pressing a finger into his chest. “Tell me why you’re doing this or I’m going home and throwing all of your shit out onto the lawn!!”

“Alright, alright!! I needed to make some extra cash because I wanted to buy somethin’ for ya, somethin’ you said you’ve always wanted. I had most of the money but I needed the rest of it fast because the guy I was gonna buy it from had someone else that was interested in it too.” He said. “So THIS is the only way I could make it happen.”

Still angry but also now a little confused, you narrowed your eyes and before you could open your mouth, he took your hand in his and led you to the parking lot.

“Brock, where are we going? I’m not done yelling at you yet.” You said.

He turned his head back to look at you.

“Can you close your eyes for me, doll? Please, y/n?” Asked Brock.

You inhaled sharply, still flustered with anger but you humored him and shut your eyes. The two of you continued to walk for a few more seconds when Brock stopped, let go of your hand and moved to stand behind you. The rasp in his voice sent a restless shiver down your spine as he whispered in your ear.

“Ok, sweetheart…open your eyes.” He said.

Slowly, your eyelids rolled back. The dim street light glowed above a beautiful shiny classic teal Ford Bronco. It looked just like the one your grandfather had when you were a child.

He remembered.

When your relationship with Brock was fairly new, he had asked about a favorite childhood memory and you told him about when you were young, your grandfather used to take you and your brother along with a couple of your cousins to get ice cream every Sunday after dinner during your summer vacation.

All of you would pile into his Bronco, roll the windows down, and off you went. You were the oldest and the only girl so you got to ride in the front seat. You loved that truck, and told Brock that you’d love to own one just like the one your grandfather had, someday.

Looks like someday had finally arrived.

Brock remembered that story and how happy that memory was for you. He even remembered what color it was. Your grandfather bought it in teal because it was your grandmother’s favorite color. Well now you felt like a little bit of an asshole but only a little bit because even though he didn’t technically lie to you, Brock didn’t tell you the whole truth but you could understand why he did what he did. You could only imagine the carnage if the roles were reversed, he would take on the entire room if you were on that stage instead of him.

Covering your mouth with your hands, you were rendered speechless.

“Oh Brock…it’s just like the one my Pop Pops had. You remembered.” You said with a hitch in your voice. “I can’t believe you bought me a car.”

“You like it then?” He asked with a sly smile stretched across his lips.

You gave him a warm smile as tears welled up in your eyes.

“I love it, baby. Thank you. I’d hug you right now but you’re all lubed up and greasy.” You said with a slight chuckle.

Brock laughed and replied, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell ya, doll. It’s a little embarrassing but it made me a lot of money pretty quick. And tonight’s my last night anyway. Your Bronco is paid in full.”

“Well I’m sorry that I jumped to conclusions…and threatened to throw your stuff out on the lawn.” You said, sheepishly.

He smiled and looked at your hand with the dollar bills in it.

“Wait…how many singles do you have left?” Asked Brock, pointing to your hand.

Fanning out the money in your hand, you counted it out loud.

“Ten…I have ten singles left.” You replied, looking up at him through your dark lashes.

“And how many did you start out with?” He asked.

Tight lipped, you didn’t want to answer his question so you looked away at something on the other side of the lot.

“Y/n…sweetheart…how many did you start out with?” He asked again.

Biting down on your lower lip, you tried to look at him but you couldn’t so with your eyes still averted, you finally replied in barely more than a whisper, “A hundred…”

With raised eyebrows and a shocked look on his face, Brock’s jaw dropped and he replied, “WHAT?! A hundred?!”

“Hey that fireman was REALLY good, VERY flexible, plus he gave me his hat.” You said with a wide smile stretched across your face.

Brock’s lips were tight and through clenched teeth, he said, “I’ll kill him. Ya know when he came backstage, he talked about the hot girl in the front row that he gave his hat to.”

With a devilish smile on your face, you said, “Oh really? Well, why don’t you get back in there, shake it for me, and if I like what I see, you can have my last ten dollars.”

Waving the dollar bills in front of his nose, you gave him a wink before leaning in to gently press your lips to his. Brock’s hands suddenly were wrapped around your waist, he pulled your body flush against his, your lips parted as he pressed his tongue against your teeth wanting to twist and knot with yours. A soft moan escaped your lips while your arms snaked around his neck and his stubble scratched your chin.

“You won’t be mad if I finish my last dance?” Asked Brock.

“Well…I hope it’s not your LAST dance, baby. Would you be interested in performing a private show?” You asked.

“As long as my girl is ok with it.” He said, his voice raspy in your ear.

You kissed him again and replied, “Oh I’m sure she’s ok with it. Now, do you want me to get a pole for the bedroom orrrrrrr?”

“Allllll-right, enough sweetheart. Let’s go back inside.” He said, gently smacking your ass.

You started to crack up.

“Ooh, ooh am I gonna get your thongs mixed up with mine?” You said, trying to keep a straight face.

Frowning slightly, he narrowed his eyes and glared at you.

“Very funny, y/n.” Said Brock, walking ahead of you.

Finally getting your laughter under control, you called out to him to get his attention.

“Brock…” You said, catching up to him.

“Yeah?” Brock replied, turning around to face you.

You pushed yourself up onto your toes to kiss him on the cheek.

“You know I tease you because I love you, right?” You whispered.

Brock kissed the tip of your nose, then replied, “I know, doll. I know. And I love you too.”

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @k-marzolf @gijos @nutmeg17 @nekoannie-chan

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @redstarsandnightmares @randomlittleimp

If I tagged you and you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again. As always, thank you again for reading!

#brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #brock rumlow imagine #brock rumlow fanfic #Spotify

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jensenackleswifey · 9 months

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Just Married !!

Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: After you, Dean and Sam all get shitfaced drunk, something unexpected happens

Notes: Cringey ass fluff, bogan is kind of like the Australian red-neck

It all started at the end of an easy hunt. Sam, Dean and I had to fight a demon that was possessing the mayor of Las Vegas. He wasn’t killing anyone or necessarily hurting anyone, only convincing the city people to do stupid, inhumane things purely for its own enjoyment. If anything it was funny and I didn’t even want to stop it but of course, our job was to hunt demons, so we did just that. It didn't even realise we were in the city until we cornered it in the mayor’s apartment and sent it back to hell. We were in the city for about 2 days. It is the first and probably the only time we'll ever have the opportunity to have an excuse to be in Vegas, so we were obviously not going to waste it. After we kill the demon, me and the boys all get in Dean's Impala and go back to our shitty motel and shower and change into something a little more comfortable. As I'm getting changed Dean comes into the bathroom to give me a shirt since I forgot to bring one in to put on after my shower. He brings me a plain white singlet top to pair with my low-waisted blue jeans and black converse. As I put it over my head, Dean starts stripping off to get in the shower and as soon as he steps in the white tiled shower, I slip out of the bathroom keeping the door shut enough so Sam doesn't see in and see his brother naked in the shower. As always, Dean takes his time getting out of the shower, so Sam and I just put on the TV while we wait, and luckily our favourite kids show was on, Astro Boy. Watching kids shows while out on jobs makes it so much easier to forget about all the gore we see every day and escape our weird lives for a little while.

When Dean finally comes out of the shower, I put on my oversized leather jacket and we all leave in Dean's car and head down to the local bar (which was between about five different bars, but we chose the cheapest option). We sit down on the bar stools; Dean orders a beer and I manage to convince Sam to order the randomest named cocktail on the menu with me.

After around 2 hours it hits 9 o'clock and we're all absolutely smashed when two people come in with a bogan tux and short white dress on with a sash that reads 'Just Married!'

Dean looks at me with wide, excited eyes "Y/n, let's go."

I nearly spit out my cocktail as I reply "What? Why?"

"Sam, call Cas. Y/n and I are getting married"

"You called?" Cas said from behind Dean, causing Dean to spill his drink all over the bar.

"God, warn a man next time!"

Cas just looked at Dean with a blank expression.

"Where is the chapel?" Dean looks at me and Sam then at the married couple, "Hey!! Where is the cha-"

He's cut off by Cas transporting us to the chapel.

"This is a disgrace. What even is this?"

"It's a fake wedding Cas. Obviously, it's not going to be a real, holy church." I tell him but he still has a slight look of disgust on his face.

Dean and I are just looking around until Dean catches sight of a fake Elvis watching us and he chuckles before he clears his throat to speak.

"Hello good sir, we'd like to get married please"

"Of course, if I could just see some ID"

Dean pulls out a driver’s license for 'John Harris' and I pull out a license for 'Ella Powerly'

We could hear Sam snicker from behind us and I looked back at him and Cas while Elvis was explaining to Dean what we have to pay and what the terms are.

Cas still looks really nervous about this whole thing as he says, "Why didn't they just get married normally?"

"Because 1. we're poor and 2. they’re in loOoOoOve" Sam replies, slapping Cas's back and slurring his words. Sam has always been a lightweight drinker and it is very obvious in times like this when someone asks him a question and there is an opportunity to make fun of them.

Dean takes my hand and I turn around to face him.

"Do you, John Harris, have anything to say to your soon-to-be-wife Ella Powerly?”

"Y/n-" He clears his throat and looks anxiously at 'Elvis' while I try not to laugh at him, "Ella, I have loved you ever since I met you and I know that that doesn't make up for the way I treated you when we first met but I'm hoping that you can start to forgive me so we can spend the rest of our short, horrible lives together."

Seeing Dean so flustered made me want to start crying.

"John, everything that happened between us before we got together made our relationship stronger and it could never make our relationship different. I love you more than anything."

I heard Sam sniffle from behind us, so I turn around to see a single tear run down Sam's face.

"It's just so beautiful." He mumbles to no one in particular and Cas gives him a tired/annoyed look.

I turn around as 'Elvis' continues the ceremony

"John, do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, to honour her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"And Ella, do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honour him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"Do you have any rings to exchange?"

I say no at the same time Dean says yes and I look at him with my eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

Dean pulls out a little, silver ring with a raw diamond on it and my jaw drops slightly as I look between him and the ring.

He takes my hand and slips it on my finger with ease and I look back up at him with tears in my eyes, threatening to spill out at any moment.

"You may kiss the bride"

Den grabs me by the waist and pulls me in and kisses me, full of emotion and we pull apart and we're free to go. 'Elvis' hands me a 'Just Married!' sash and Sam pull us outside so that Cas can send us back to our motel because he is about to throw up. As soon as we get back, Sam sprints inside and Cas puts a hand on mine and Dean's shoulders.

"Congratulations" And just like that, he disappears.

I look at Dean and smile widely and he flashes me the same smile back.

He holds out his arm "Shall we?"

I smile even wider and take his arm and we practically skip inside.

------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning when I wake up, Dean was awake before me, running his hands through my hair.

"Good morning." I say quietly to him.

He just smiles at me, and I turn back around and let myself get more comfortable with his hands running through my hair.

Sam comes out of the bathroom, and he looks white as a ghost. He looks at us and groans.

"I think I'm going to throw up again"

Dean chuckles from behind me and I look back up at him.

"Well Dean, I can't wait to legally spend the rest of my life with you."

"Well technically Ella Powerly and John Harris are legally married but you’re still my little wife. My little Mrs. Winchester."

And with that, I just push myself up his chest and peck him on the lips and lay back down, ready for whatever comes at us next.

My first fic ever so please ignore how shit it is LMAO

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean x reader #supernatural #jensen ackles character #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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mx-lamour · 3 months

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Costuming Strahd: Art Addendum

I didn't include any mention of the official Dungeons & Dragons art for Strahd von Zarovich in my previous post, because I had dismissed it outright. There, I said it.

I shall strive to amend my folly in this addendum.

Let's start with that 5e cover:

I generally approve of this representation. No doubt it colored my concept of Strahd's silhouette, since this is the first image of Strahd I came into contact with, some two or three years ago.

The shape of this garb is much like what I was aiming for in my previous post. Strahd is sporting a crisp shirt with stiffened, buttoned cuffs, much like our modern button-downs or blouses spanning back into the mid-1800s. His torso is trim in a fitted vest with standing collar, which easily fits into the category of fantasy-Renaissance. Speculation on from where/when exactly the inspiration comes might be a futile effort; it would find itself at home among the elves in The Lord of the Rings, and I'm not about to dig into that concept work just now.

Actually, what his vest reminds me of most is 15th century brigandine [or tabard (see below), which would cover brigandine or a breastplate, which is why] it's the right length, if nothing else.

Reconstructing History, He's literally Elrond, and some brigandine

I believe I said it's easy to fake good pants, especially when sitting down. This example reinforces my point. His legs are indeed covered, and the result is not garish. Not particularly exciting, but nonetheless successful. You could probably even call them hose if you really wanted to.

His boots are literal extant riding boots, from "early 20th c." England, and honestly I'm so proud of this one-to-one reference.

[Fig. 1] and [Fig. 2], although my first thought had been Victorian cycling boots.

The cape draped around his shoulders appears to be quite thin and probably only falls to about his fingertips, since it doesn't drape over the chair cushion and he's not sitting on it. It could look like some kind of military cape. Or maybe even, to drag him back a few centuries again, something Elizabethan.

I'll do a whole thing on capes later.

Moving on...

Early Strahd von Zarovich was definitely Dracula by another name, but later art has been pretty consistently (from what I can see) this other red/blue outfit, with baffling ruby clasps instead of a single pendant around his neck.

That last one has me. To be fair, it's the only one gazing back at the observer... >.>

Look. This garb is sexy. It cannot be understated. While it's not what I'm going for in my own costume foray, this is a fantastic design. Here's why:

The line where blue meets red along his ribcage accentuates his chest. That same red draws the eye down over his crotch, subtly curving to accomodate his thighs. Those chains on his cloak and the sash around his waist are positively drippy, like the source of the Ivlis pouring down to the Tser Pool. The asymmetry of that and his mismatched shoulders gives him such a dynamic slant, something to visually climb back up like handholds on the face of a cliff. And the sash is supple, in direct contrast to his armored hips, solid and stalwart. His limbs are clad in slim nondescript brown, making it all the easier to focus in on his center, in high contrast dotted with solid rubies. The red and blue both, especially together, are blood colors, indicative of veins hidden beneath the skin.

He might be covered from toe to jaw, but this is an intimate costume.

Despite my appreciation for it, though, again, I personally am trying to make something a little less Lord of the Rings. For reasons.

So, let's see what I can come up with in terms of historical inspiration... if anything, lol.

This is going to be fairly stream-of-consciousness. (Not that it wasn't already, I suppose.)

The first thing that came to mind was a kaftan (or zupan?), because they can be fitted through the torso and feature a standing collar and embellished closures up the front. But, kaftans from Russia, the Ottoman Empire, and other areas touched by those cultures usually also have sleeves. I finally found the two illustrations below without sleeves, but they were difficult to track down and I'm not sure how much of what they depict is imaginary. (Although the sword, pouch, and helmet from the first one are definitely from an extant burial site.)

There's also the Polish kontusz, where the arms can be worn out of the sleeves, with the sleeves flipped back, and that can give the illusion of sleevelessness... A lot of examples I found of this particular garment are also open to the waist, which is delightfully provocative, but doesn't resemble the Strahd ensemble.

Examples from Chernigov (Ukraine) and apparently Moldova; a Polish kontusz

I can think of little source material for that long, pointed fantasy hemline, but allow me to grasp at some straws.

The straws in question.

Actually, this brings up a really good point of inquiry. Where does this drapery-between-the-legs situation that modern fantasy seems to be so enamoured with come from?

Tabards would seem the obious answer, but even that, in modern parlance, is used as an umbrella term for a wide range of garments that may or may not have any true basis in reality.

There's also just... loin cloths, I suppose, which can look like a piece of fabric just draped over the crotch and hanging between the legs, but there's usually more to it than that.

At last, after some digging around, I came across the video below. Bless Shad for his contribution to society.

It goes over all the the differences between those various styles of garment usually bearing symbols of allegiance all lumped together as "tabards", and presented me one more vocabulary word with which I was not yet familiar: the scapular.

youtube

Alas, monastic garb is my blind spot. Silly that I've played at least five clerics so far.

To summarize, I think the that the shape of the lower part of Strahd's... whatever-it-is... is inspired by a mix of these garments described in the video. It's short like a tabard should be, and has that dip between the legs reminiscent of a scapular.

But, ultimately, this thing is a waistcoat. Not a waistcoat in the Victorian sense; a waistcoat in the mid-18th century sense.

Monk wearing a scapular, and some fancy waistcoats.

Finally, the very-high standing collar on Strahd's waistcoat smacks of a couple things: Russia (again), or the Regency era. Although, in the Regency years, waistcoats became much shorter (ending at the waist) and lengthened up the other way with high standing collars. But, if you were to combine the two waistcoats above and throw in some suggestive high-hip cutouts like a 1980's leotard, you might come out with something that resembles what Strahd is wearing in all that sumtuous art.

The one with the sash really drives the comparison home.

With the initial kaftan comparison and this guy with the funny hair (a Count Vasili, coincidentally) above, Strahd von Zarovich's red/blue fantasy garb is also giving the Motherland, and folks, I already said that I was trying to keep blatant Russia out of Barovia (as much as that garb clearly slaps). But I also recently remembered due to this post that I am a total sucker for Russian pet names, so... who knows.

In the end... do I know what I'm doing? Absolutely not. I'm not sure which of these elements will filter into further consideration for my own Strahd von Zarovich costume, but I'm definitely glad I gave all this a look. Absolutely worth it. Learned a lot. ♡

#costume things #costuming barovia #strahd von zarovich #costume design #fashion history #costume history #curse of strahd #lamour dms cos #art analysis #art appreciation #ravenloft

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avengerscompound · 8 months

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The Recruit - 35. Steve

The Recruit - An Avengers Fanfiction

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x Bucky Barnes x Sharon Carter x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Word Count: 2636

Warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of rape

Synopsis: When Sam Wilson is set up on a blind date, he doesn’t expect anything to come from it. He is already in a relationship after all, and not just with one other person, but a whole group of them. You never expected to end up working for the Avengers let alone be dating six of them at the same time. Now you’re balancing a new job, a new romance, new friends, and a secret that could destroy a lot of lives if it got out. It’s a tricky balance to get right at the best of times, but when something happens to Steve Rogers it’s up to the people who love him most to get him back.

35. Steve

Steve took one last look at himself in the mirror. He’d dressed up. A gunmetal three-piece suit with a pale blue tie to bring out his eyes. It was probably the most formally he’d ever dressed to go out on a date. Dating in general had been limited. He and Bucky had gone on the odd double date. He’d gone out for drinks with Sam. He'd taken Sharon out to dinner and dancing a few times. But no date had been particularly formal or fancy. And since becoming part of a rather large polycule, dating had been taken right off the table.

It felt strange now to be taking you out to an expensive restaurant. Risky even. Things had changed in the few weeks since they’d pulled that sentient black sludge from him. For so long the group had been keeping what they had secret, and he’d known how much everyone had hated that. While they agreed with him that keeping the secret was important, it was always him that pushed to keep it, because he didn’t want to upset the public or seem unprofessional. He’d been more worried about people questioning if they were good enough people to act as heroes, than about the feelings of the people he loved.

There was something that this whole ordeal had shown him, Sam, Bucky, Sharon, Natasha, Clint, and you had all stuck by him at his absolute worst, trying to help him back to the light, and he couldn’t trust the public to stick with him at his absolute best. His priorities were all wrong and he needed to put the feelings of the people he loved before the perceived judgment from people who didn’t even know him.

They were no longer going to keep the relationship a secret. Not that they’d be unprofessional at work, or make a big statement about how they were in a seven-person polycule. They just weren’t going to hide anymore. They’d go out together. If they were out of uniform and outside, they’d show affection to each other without worrying about being spotted. They’d go on actual dates. They’d take this relationship in the natural direction that it would go if it was just two people and if that meant they stayed happy in the tower in separate apartments, so be it, but if it meant a commitment ceremony and moving in together and having a family, then he’d be open to that too.

That was starting with you today. He was taking you to a nice restaurant and splurging, because after spending months, struggling to get to know a version of Steve that was wrong, you deserved the chance of getting the best version of him, and to get spoiled at the same time. It still felt weird after so long hiding things, but he wanted to do this for you. He wanted to restart with his best foot forward.

He made his way down to your room and knocked on the door. You opened it and he felt his breath catch. You were breathtaking, obviously taking his instruction to dress up to heart. Your makeup was flawless, and you wore a red A-line dress with a heart-shaped bodice and halter neck. The halter strap was black lace and the lace traced around the neckline. There was a matching sash around the waist, black ribbon laced up the back, and black mesh poking out from underneath the skirt.

“Wow,” Steve breathed as he took you in. “You look beautiful.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you said approaching him. There was a slight hesitation before he leaned down and kissed you. He had meant it to be just a peck on the lips, but your hand went to his lapel and you held him there, one foot kicking out behind you.

It felt good. Right. Yes - he had spent months and months connecting with you with a dark passenger inside him twisting his thoughts, but he’d still been there. The real Steve had still gotten to know you. He had kissed you many times - this was just the first time he’d done it since that day in the hot tub where there hadn’t been a voice trying to turn it into something dark. This kiss was familiar but different and it felt more right. It was real and it was him connecting with you.

You pulled back slowly, sucking softly on his plump bottom lip. “Mmm… that was nice.”

He hummed in agreement as he looked at you. You seemed a little dazed and you took a moment to shake it off. When you did, you patted his chest and gestured for the door. “So where are we going?”

“Tony pulled some strings and got us reservations at the Polo Bar,” Steve said as he stepped outside.

You paused as you pulled the door closed behind them and you started laughing. “Oh boy.”

Steve wasn’t sure what had just happened. Was there something wrong with the polo bar? “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Bad choice? Tony said it was the place to be.”

You wrapped your arm around his elbow and leaned into him again. “It’s fine. I’m sure the food will be really good…”

“But?”

“But,” you said. “My first date with Sam was at a really expensive, fancy place too. And we were both awkward and uncomfortable in it until we left and did something more relaxed.” The two of you arrived at the elevator and got on board and you turned to look at him. “See the thing is, he was trying to impress me instead of get to know me. Honestly, I think he specifically didn’t want to get to know me, because he was dating you and he didn’t want to fall for someone else.”

Steve smiled affectionately. “He did anyway.”

You laughed and dropped your gaze. “He did. Because we ditched it before we ordered and we just walked around. We got to know each other and we had fun just being us.” You touched his chest again and looked up into his eyes. Steve smiled and put his hand on yours as he gazed down at you. “You don’t seem like a fancy restaurant type, Steve. If you are, then I’m happy to be corrected, but we’re going on this date because we need to get to know each other. We should do something that will let me do that.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile. You were totally right. He’d already won you over. Now you just needed to get to know each other. He nodded. “You’re right. Scratch the Polo Bar. What can we do instead?”

The doors opened into the lobby and the two of you stepped out. “That’s really up to you. Who is Steve Rogers? Is he going to the theater? Does he like to dance? Bowling? Ping Pong? Amusement Parks? Boat rides? Ball games? Live music? Dinner and a movie? The great thing about New York is that there’s always something happening.”

He nodded in agreement and stopped you before you went out the front door. “Let’s walk for a bit while I think. But before we step outside, that’s going to be a little crazy out there. How do you want to do this?”

You looked out where the usual mill of paparazzi and fans were hanging around and seemed to consider things for a moment before returning his gaze. “Can I loop my arm with yours and stay close?”

He smiled and offered you his arm. “Of course.”

The two of you walked outside. There had been no official statement about any of the team dating yet, and so this was the first time anyone had been out publicly together. The reaction to Steve stepping outside with you was instantaneous. People started calling out Steve’s name and they swarmed in. Security tried to hold them back and make a path for you to escape through, but you were planning on walking. Steve quickly altered the plan. He held you close to him and stepped out into the street, flagging down the first cab he could get, and the two of you climbed into the back.

“Where to?” the driver asked as he pulled back out into the street.

“Just drive around for a bit. We haven’t quite decided that. We just need to get away from that crowd,” Steve answered as he buckled up.

“You’ve got it, Cap,” the driver said.

Steve turned his attention back to you. “A lot of what you suggested sounds good. I love musicals and I haven’t seen one in so long. But it’s not great for getting to know each other. I would love to go swing dancing, but you know what? I think I’d like for that to be something we all do together.”

“Oh yeah,” you agreed. “That would be amazing.”

“I have to admit, I’m really heavily drawn to a ballgame. I loved going to the game when I was younger. We always sat so far back. But even if there was a game on tonight, it’ll be a cold day in hell that I support the Yankees.”

You snorted and pulled out your phone. “You, Steven Rogers, are in luck. The Mets are playing the Phillies. The game starts in ten minutes, so we’ll be about twenty minutes late, but that’s okay. What happens in the first twenty minutes anyway?”

“You’re really fine with that?” Steve asked.

“Totally fine. Sitting in the stands, talking, watching a game. We can get a hotdog, a lobster roll, and some kind of spiked lemonade. It’ll be fun. And who knows, maybe you’ll have a new team.”

“That’d be nice,” he agreed. “Because I can’t support the Dodgers now they’ve defected.”

You laughed and nudged him. “See, I’m already learning more about you.” You leaned over and tapped on the glass. “Citi Field please.”

On the drive to Queens, you bought the tickets. Steve tried to argue but you said the site was already open. So Steve said he was paying for the food. He even placed the orders for that via the app, so within forty minutes not only were the two of you in the stadium, but you were seated with your food and drinks. Steve had gone a little overboard. Well - he needed the extra food, he burned calories like a furnace burned paper. Things had changed in the world of ballpark food since he was a kid, and he no longer had to worry that buying a hotdog would both eat up all his money and make him violently ill. So when he saw the huge variety of things available on the app, he decided to let loose. The box of food that Steve had carried to their seats was huge and contained a lobster roll, a chopped cheese sandwich, a fried chicken sandwich, two spiked lemonades - one strawberry and vodka and the other blackberry and tequila, and two classic Nathan’s hotdogs with sauerkraut. He set the box on the ground between the two of you and you each grabbed something from the box.

“I might just take bites from everything if you’re cool with that,” you said.

“I’m very cool with that,” he agreed. “A little sampler for you.”

You took a bite of the sandwich and leaned in against him, as you stared out at the game in front of you. “Do you think we can talk about it?”

Steve had talked about it so many times now, he was honestly getting sick of it. But he owed it to you. He took a bite of his hot dog and sighed. “Sure. Of course. I guess there are things you need to know.”

“What was it like?” you asked.

“To begin with, it was almost like being drunk but without the thoughts being impaired. It was like all my inhibitions were taken away. When I slept with you, it was me that wanted to do it, but it was a kind of primal part of me that’s usually pretty quiet. I was already attracted to you, but this me, the me without that thing in there needs more than that to let go. I need to know you,” he explained. “After a while, it was like another voice was there that I couldn’t seem to resist. And the longer it went, the more it convinced me to do things that I would never do. It was like it was pulling my ID to the surface. Sometimes I was fine. If things were calm and I was just hanging out with you all, I was just me. But if something annoyed me, it just took control and where I might normally just be annoyed, I would be furious. I was taking it out on anything near me. If it was sex, I was the most animalistic it could make me. The things I did - I do when I’m asked, and it’s not that I don’t enjoy them, I enjoy making my lovers feel good. But that wasn’t me. That was it using my body.”

Your brow furrowed and you took his hand. “Oh god, Steve. I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “No… it’s… I don’t feel violated. At least not sexually.”

“Are you sure? Because it sounds like it did. That we did,” you said, looking deep into his eyes.

“I promise,” he said. “I never felt like my body was being used to sate someone else’s desire. I felt like someone was just changing the way I enacted my desires. I don’t know if that makes sense. Like I said, I do those kinds of things and I want to sleep with all of you. I enjoy being rough. But it made me want them in a way that removed the whole reason I normally enjoy them.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yes, and if anything, I feel like I violated all of you. Or it did… or…” he shook his head. He couldn’t even figure out how to describe this voice in him that wasn’t him but changed him. It hurt. He hurt. He felt guilty and angry about everything. “I feel like you were all sleeping with a stranger. And I feel worst for you because at least the others knew what they were seeing was my bad days amped up to a thousand. They could see me and they were humoring me in the hopes that therapy could get under control. They were trying to help get the man they loved back. But you - you were falling for this monstrous version of me.”

He turned away from you, and you reached up, turning his cheek so he was making eye contact with you again. “I need you to listen to me, Steve. I told everyone I loved them. All of them. But not you. There’s been something holding me back. I don’t know what that thing was making you do or not, but talking to you now I can guess. There were times I think I was turned on by that darkness. And there were times that darkness scared the absolute shit out of me. But the whole time I kept thinking; ‘When would I get to see that sweet man I spent time in the hot tub with.’ I think I haven’t told you I loved you, because I knew I wasn’t seeing you yet.”

Steve’s gaze softened, and he reached up, caressing your cheek. “You are so special. I hope you know that.”

“I feel special,” you said. “I have five people who all love me. And I think one more who is on the way to.”

Steve smiled and nodded. He leaned in just a little. “Oh, well on the way,” he said, and he kissed you.

// NEXT

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