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halfvalid · 8 months

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Hiii! If its no trouble could I have a zoro and reader fic with the one bed trope? The others know about their crushes on each other so they force each other to share a room? Anyway they end up cuddling and its all cute (the others will tease them forever about it lol)?? Thankss

intertwined ribbons

ABOUT

alternate title: opla zoro makes my hated tropes less hated

rating: general audiences/teen & up

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!nami | live action!straw hats ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

description: unbeknownst to you, your crush on zoro is reciprocated. the rest of the straw hats take it upon themselves to get you together by locking you in his bedroom overnight.

tags: strawhat!reader, only one bed, forced proximity, confessions, no use of 'y/n', nami is a true instigator, cuddling, soft zoro, humor

author's note: thank you so much for the request and i hope it meets your expectations!! fun fact i actually used to hate the 'only one bed' trope, so i decided to challenge myself in writing this. and i think it's one of my fave tropes now lol

(you have an inner spirit that helps you make decisions except it’s just nami.)

“I just think that maybe you should stop avoiding him,” Nami started. You bit your cheek, ignoring her as you tied up the last of the ship’s rigging into a careful knot. Nami had been going on for the past few minutes, and you’d zoned out exactly three seconds in, when the name Zoro had first been spoken. Because of this reason you weren’t really listening, so you blinked up at her in confusion.

“Sorry? Who am I avoiding?”

“You’re impossible,” Nami grumbled. “And you know exactly who I’m talking about.” Which, well, fair. The math added up: you heard the word Zoro, you stopped listening, Nami continued talking until she realized you’d stopped listening. “Especially since you’re, you know—” she gave you another look, eyes rolling over to stare dead into yours— “Avoiding him.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said innocently. Nami sighed, leaning over to tug the rope dangling from your hands out of your grip. You tried to reach back for it, but she didn’t let you. “Hey!”

“Yes, you do. Face it. You’re avoiding Zoro.”

You made a face at her. “I think there are ropes on the foredeck that I can attend to.”

“No, there aren’t,” Nami answered. “Now stop changing the subject. There’s this wild concept called communication. It works wonders.”

“Says you,” you muttered, though your arms crossed defensively across your chest. You noticed the action after a split-second and unwound your arms with a scowl. “Look, I just don’t see the point. And I haven’t been avoiding him.”

You were, in fact, avoiding him. Ever since that dreadful night a week ago when Nami had gotten you tipsy and stuck her hand in your chest cavity fishing for secrets, you’d been avoiding him. The other girl was ridiculously good at prying truths out of you, and during the conversation, you’d accidentally spilled your crush on the Straw Hat crew’s resident swordsman.

You’d managed to keep the secret for the months you’d been together, wherein the unfortunate feelings had developed, and you should’ve figured once somebody knew they wouldn’t leave you alone about it. Because Nami refused to talk about literally anything else. You’d expected this sort of behavior from Luffy, or maybe Sanji, but Nami? The world was more amatonormative than you'd thought.

Nami cast you a look. “You’re blushing.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. What’s the harm in talking to him?” Nami demanded, one hand on her hip as she stared you down. You gaped at her.

“Um, literally everything? One, Zoro can’t talk about feelings or emotions for shit, so when he rejects me it’ll be in the most excruciating, offhand manner that will probably leave me at the bottom of a barrel of rum, two, after being rejected I’m going to have to leave the Straw Hats, three—”

Nami rolled her eyes, looking increasingly fed up with you. “For someone so obsessed with not telling our resident grass-headed swordsman about your feelings for him, you’re talking rather loudly.”

You shut up, snapping your jaw closed with a glare. “Stop it,” you hissed.

“Besides, who knows if he actually will reject you?” Nami turned to work on the next section of rigging, glancing over her shoulder at you. “You’re catastrophizing.”

“I’m being realistic,” you snapped. “Okay, fine. He reciprocates my feelings. Then what? We date, we break up because all relationships eventually end, it becomes awkward, and—voila—I’ll have to leave the Straw Hats anyway. It’s a bad idea all around.”

Nami just let out a huff of breath, the exhale laced with irritation. “Catastrophizing,” she repeated.

“I am not—”

“Sure. Go help Sanji with dinner.”

You gave her an exasperated look, but at this point Nami wasn’t paying attention anymore, so you stormed off into the underbelly of the Going Merry. Speak of the devil, apparently, because once you entered the kitchen you spotted not only Sanji occupying it but also Zoro. He was lounging at the table, swords strapped to his waist and a bottle of something he was nursing in hand.

You averted your gaze from him, head running a million miles a minute. Had he noticed you’d been avoiding him? You’d tried to be furtive about it, but if Nami had noticed, maybe—

“Well, hello there,” Sanji called from where he was in the midst of dinner preparations. “Come to help?”

“Nami sent me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I think she’s appointed herself queen of the Going Merry.”

“Oh, she did that long ago,” Sanji chided. “You’re only noticing it now. Pick up a knife, then. I’d like some help dicing the carrots.”

You stiffly moved over to the counter, ignoring Zoro as you went even as you felt his gaze following your figure. You picked up the first knife you found, positioning yourself in front of the cutting board to start dicing the vegetables already laid out for you. Abruptly, Zoro stood up.

“Heading out,” he muttered. “Call me when dinner’s ready.”

With that, he left the room, leaving you and Sanji to exchange looks. “He’s moody today,” you said.

“Probably ‘cause you’ve been avoiding him.”

You felt the familiar pinprick of a blush starting to warm your cheeks. “You too?”

“You’re rather obvious about it,” Sanji said with a raised eyebrow. “But enough of that.” Weirdly enough, he didn’t seem to question why. There was no way Nami had told him, so you were left confused, but no matter. The point was that for now, you were safe.

The hour dipped to evening, and soon the moon was glowing in the sky, a shining beacon of white amidst the ocean of stars and shimmering sea. You suppressed a yawn, busing the dishes from dinner as the rest of the crew got up from their respective seats to dissolve to their own rooms. Zoro had already retired for the night—if you were avoiding him, he seemed to be doing the exact same—so at least you didn’t have that to worry about.

“Ah, wait,” Nami said, after you’d finished washing the dishes and was ready to head out. “Zoro wants to talk to you.”

You jolted, glancing nervously around you before grabbing her wrist. “What did you do?” you hissed. Nami just laughed.

“Calm down. I didn’t do anything.” Off your glare, she relented. “I promise. And I swear it’s not about feelings or emotions or whatever. Even though it’s obvious you’re avoiding him, you know Zoro wouldn’t say anything.”

You were still suspicious, but you dropped your hand. “What, then?”

Nami shrugged, tilting her chin up just so. “I guess you’re going to have to find out.”

“I don’t trust you,” you muttered. There was that look in her eye, the one she got whenever she was thinking of something truly devious. Still, you couldn’t figure out what she was up to, so— “Fine, I’ll go to his room. Walk me.”

Nami rolled her eyes, but she fell into step with you as you made your way across the ship. “You should bring it up to him, you know,” she started, but silenced after your sharp glare. “Okay, okay. I get the point. I’ll stop bothering you about it.”

You stopped by the mouth of Zoro’s door. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” Nami said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She leaned against the wall beside the door, arms crossing over her chest. “I’ll leave you alone about Mr. Prince Charming over there. Knock.”

“You can't call him Mr. Prince Charming,” you said, though you did knock. “Prince’ is already a title.”

Nami gave you a look. “Okay, smart-ass.”

The door creaked open before you could give your response, and you turned, heart pounding in your throat as Zoro stared down at you. His arm was propped up by the open doorway, the other hand still clutching the doorknob. “What.”

“Um, Nami said that you wanted to talk—” you swiveled your head towards the other girl, but before you could finish your sentence, Nami was raising up your arm and unceremoniously shoving you into the room.

You shrieked in surprise as you fell into Zoro’s figure, stumbling into him and causing him to lose his balance. Your head shot up in offense, only to see the gleam of a golden padlock in Nami’s hand before she was yanking the door closed.

A dull click echoed through the room. The only thing you could hear for a few seconds was your own heavy breathing and the sound of Zoro gathering himself.

“Did she just—” You gaped at the closed door. “Lock us in?”

Zoro swiftly pushed past you, jiggling the doorknob for a few moments before giving up. Sure enough, Nami had sealed it with the padlock from the outside, so there was no possibility of either of you getting out of the room. You could vaguely hear sounds from the outside—dull thuds and scrapes—and watched as Zoro started banging on the door.

“Nami,” he called, voice dangerously low. “Let us out.”

“Sorry, Zoro!” Your jaw practically unhinged from your skull once you heard your captain’s familiar voice, all bright and cheerful like always. “We’re putting barrels in front of the door, so don’t even try breaking it down. Have a good night!”

“Luffy? What are you—” Zoro’s knocking quickened in pace, his voice getting increasingly louder. There was no response from outside, though you could hear snickers that sounded suspiciously like Usopp. What was going on?

You kicked into action, joining Zoro by the door and trying the door handle again. “Nami!” you yelled.

Nami’s soft laugh came from outside. “Sorry!” she called. “We’ll let you out in the morning.”

You gaped at the door, only aware of Zoro’s gaze sliding down to you as you dropped your hand from the doorknob. There were some more tigers from outside, and then receding footsteps. Zoro tried knocking one last time, but it was evident that the rest of the crew had all but abandoned you.

“Okay,” Zoro muttered, moving away from the door. “I need a drink.”

You watched him move across the room, picking up a glass from his bedside table that was only slightly full. He knocked it back in one swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. “Um, what now?” you asked uncomfortably.

“Nothing. Whatever,” Zoro said, turning to glance over at you. After a moment’s thought, you noticed that he refused to look you in his eye—his gaze was firmly trained at a spot beside your head. He turned away, stripping off his sword scabbard and setting them on the floor.

You glanced around nervously. Zoro’s room wasn’t that different from yours, really—less decorated, but the constitution was the same. There was the bed, a wardrobe, a desk with various paraphernalia across it, and a little couch in the corner too. “You can look through the closet for something to sleep in. I’ll take the chair.”

The words didn’t register at first, and you were left standing there, staring as Zoro kicked off his shoes and assumedly started getting ready to sleep. “Um, what?”

Zoro glanced over his shoulder. He still wouldn’t look you in the eye. “They’re not letting us out until morning,” he said slowly. “You can take the bed. Might as well sleep.”

“It’s your room,” you started, crossing your arms. “I can sleep in the chair. I’m smaller than you, anyway, so I’ll fit it better.”

Zoro regarded you with such a reproachful look you almost wanted to laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Change.” With that, he turned around, leaving no room for discussion. You stared at him for a second before giving up, moving to his wardrobe and opening it up to search for something to sleep in.

“So, uh, any ideas on why they stuck us in here?” You asked, although you already knew the answer. Whatever Nami thought locking you in a room with Zoro would achieve, you were stubbornly not going to let her be right. God, you were so going to kill her once you got out of there.

“Nope,” Zoro said, with such a degree of finality you figured it wouldn’t be safe to question him further. “They’re just stupid.”

“I mean, I feel like they would have a motive?” You rifled through his clothes, trying very hard to detach them from their owner. Wearing Zoro’s clothes was not something you wanted your mind to linger upon. Eventually you found a shirt of his that would undoubtedly be oversized on you, and you hastily changed into it, satisfied to find it draped well to your knees so you weren’t exposing too much skin.

You stole a glance over your shoulder at Zoro, only to catch him in the action of peeling his shirt off. The stretch of the muscles in his back gleamed in the dim light of the room, and you tore your gaze away, heat rushing to your face. “Um. Anything?”

“Nope,” Zoro repeated. Carefully, you closed the wardrobe door, lingering in one spot with your hands clenched together. Once you heard him start moving again, you deemed it safe enough to turn towards the rest of the room. He’d changed into a loose tan shirt, and had settled back into the chair.

“I said I’d take the chair,” you told him hotly.

“Yeah, and I said no,” Zoro said, tone dismissive. He had his eyes closed, and you stared at him in disbelief.

“I’m not sleeping in your bed,” you said, and then, just to emphasize your point, plopped down on the floor. Zoro cracked an eye open and stared down at you. He sighed.

“Get up. Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not being stupid,” you said. “It’s your room. It’s your bed. You will sleep on it. If you’re not giving me the chair, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Zoro let out a long sigh, closing both his eyes as if he was contemplating all his life decisions. “I’m not sleeping in the bed, you know,” he said.

“Okay, so neither of us do.”

Zoro’s brows creased, and he opened his eyes to glare down at you. “Seriously? At least take the chair, then. I’ll sleep on the flo—”

You gave him a sharp look. “Zoro.”

“This conversation isn’t getting anywhere,” Zoro muttered, and finally got up from his chair. You glanced up at him expectantly. “What can I do to convince you to take the bed?”

“Uh, nothing.”

“We can work out a compromise,” Zoro said with a sigh. “I want you on it, and you want me on it, and neither of us are willing to take it ourselves.” He paused, brow creasing as an idea seemed to form in his head—one he didn’t seem to be a giant fan of, but an idea nonetheless. “How about.” His lips pursed, before he parted them again to finish his sentence. “How about we both take it?”

It felt like someone had hit you square in the chest, air kicking out of your lungs and leaving you gasping for breath. Your windpipe was all raw, and you had to fight to tear any words out from your throat. “Ex—excuse me?”

“It’s big enough,” Zoro said stiffly, though his hands were clenched at his sides. “I can take one side and you can take the other. Since you’re so dead-set on me sleeping on it.”

“I—” You cut yourself off, suddenly far too aware of Zoro’s eyes fixed on you. Watching your every move. Oh, Nami was in for it now. How were you supposed to survive sleeping in the same bed as—you didn’t even want to think about it.

“Well?” Zoro prompted.

“Fine,” you agreed hastily, ducking your head lest Zoro catch any of the flush that was undoubtedly rising steadily up your cheeks. It was bad enough you were stuck in his bedroom and wearing his clothes—but this had quickly become your own personal circle of hell. “Good enough for me.”

“Finally.” With that, Zoro climbed into bed, settling himself on the very edge of its side. Your throat had gone dry, and you stared at him for another second before hurriedly turning away to flick the lights off. You approached the other side of the bed with an extreme lack of enthusiasm, staring at the empty sheets like they were cackling up at you. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Eventually you slid into the bed, busying yourself with arranging the blankets around your figure. Zoro’s breaths were steady and deep from beside you. You didn’t know what to do for a second, but then Zoro’s voice was cutting through the darkness. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You jolted, then suppressed your sigh. “Have not.”

“Yes, you have, and everyone knows it, and you’re not very subtle,” Zoro said, sounding almost bored as he rattled off the words. “Why.”

“I haven’t—”

“Don’t.”

You ran your tongue along your teeth, sucking at the valleys between them in annoyance. “It’s not important.”

Zoro paused before speaking, like he was mulling over asking the question. “Did I do something?”

“What? No.” You shook your head, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see. The sound did well enough to indicate the action to him, though—he scoffed, a low murmur from his chest that buzzed through your nerves. “I don’t want to talk about this. You’re giving the rest of the crew what they want.”

“They definitely did not lock you in here to talk about why you’re avoiding me,” Zoro muttered. Now it was your turn to scoff, because if only he knew. “Are you sure I didn’t do anything?"

“Positive. It’s all me.”

“Okay, so why?” Zoro prompted. You swallowed hard, trying to dodge around the subject. “Are you sure—”

“Please just stop talking,” you said, one hand reaching out to grip his arm as if the physical contact would make him shut up. There was a stagnant moment of silence, your breath catching as your brain caught up to your body. Your hand was on Zoro’s arm. Your hand was on Zoro’s bicep, and you were in his bed.

You cleared your throat, a panicked choke bursting from your lungs. “Um.” Your eyes skittered sideways, and then you finally turned on your side to stare at him. To stare at where your hand was still clutched around his arm.

You could just barely make out the angle of his jaw in the darkness, but you could see it was clenched, the vein along his neck protruding just slightly. Hastily, you removed your hand, the skin of your fingers tingling like you could still feel him underneath the tips. “Sorry. Why—why are you so certain that you did something for me to avoid you?”

There were a few moments of silence that ticked by, nothing but the rock of the ship interrupting it. Finally, Zoro spoke. “Because the reason they locked you in my room is because—”

“What? The reason they locked me in your room is because of me,” you said. Zoro finally moved from his position, head tilting to face yours so you were eye-to-eye. You swallowed. “Nami, um—Nami specifically forced me in here so I would… talk to you.”

There was a question evident in Zoro’s voice. “About?”

Your lips parted, and then closed again. “Um.”

“We can just sleep, if you want,” Zoro muttered.

“What if they don’t let us out in the morning because we haven’t talked, though?” you hissed. Zoro let out a low laugh.

“You realize you’re giving them exactly what they want.”

“So you’d be more comfortable if we just… fell asleep?” you asked. Zoro shrugged. Since you weren’t exactly averse to the idea of not confessing, you nodded in agreement, heart beating a million miles a second. “Okay. Fine by me.”

You settled back into your pillow, but soon came to realize that, due to the fluttering butterflies in your stomach and the fact you were very aware of the man of your affections being barely a foot to your right, you could not sleep. Evidently Zoro felt the same way, because he kept shifting around under the blankets—your hands brushed against each other a few times before he jolted away like you’d burnt him.

“Sorry,” you muttered. Zoro didn’t say anything in response. Somewhere in the back of your head, you could hear Nami hissing at you—I didn’t shove you in a room with Mr. Prince Charming just for you to not take advantage of the opportunity. You tried to get her out of your brain—it was a bad idea all around—but the words kept reverberating around in your mind until you found yourself suddenly speaking. “Zoro?”

“Hm?”

“Nami stuck me in here so I would tell you that, um—”

“You don’t have to say it,” Zoro murmured, and you shivered, his voice sounding suddenly closer. You squirmed, your hand brushing against Zoro’s again, except this time it took him a delayed moment to drift away. He had gotten closer—or maybe that was you, instinctually leaning towards the dip in the middle of the bed when you’d been lost in thought.

“The reason they locked me in here with you is so I would tell you about my feelings towards you,” you blurted, the words slurring together, consonants and syllables all in one rush. “Because I have them. Feelings, I mean.”

Zoro’s voice was very low when he spoke. “Excuse me?”

You sat straight up, the blankets previously nestled around your chin falling to your waist. “I have feelings for you and that’s why everyone locked me in here.”

“I—” Zoro coughed, and then coughed again, ridding his throat of whatever was preventing him from making full sentences. He slowly sat up, and you stared down at the blankets in your lap as you saw him rise to his full height beside you. And oh, this was it. He was about to reject you in the most excruciating, offhand manner that would probably leave you at the bottom of a barrel of rum. “That’s not possible.”

“Why is that—” you decided to shut up instead of finishing your sentence, allowing him to speak instead. There was a soft burning starting at your skin, all red hot, and your brain buzzed, regret filling up your lungs and making it hard to breathe.

Zoro didn’t say anything, but you heard his hand before you felt it. It slid across the bedsheets before finally resting beside yours, fingertips grazing against your knuckles. “Zoro?” you whispered.

“The reason they locked you in here with me is so I would tell you about my feelings towards you,” Zoro said blankly. You blinked. It took you a moment to realize that he wasn’t just quoting you—that he hadn’t switched the pronouns accordingly. Your heart dropped.

Your voice was very faint when you spoke. “What?”

“I like you,” Zoro said carefully. Languidly, the words dripping off his tongue all saccharine-sweet like molasses, or honey. You shivered, your hand accidentally knocking against his, and he took the opportunity to draw it in closer, fingers pushing up your palm, just a hair’s breadth away from interlacing with yours. “Luffy unfortunately found out. He doesn’t know how to keep a secret and told the rest of the crew.”

You gaped at him. “I like you,” you said, dumbfounded. You could feel yourself trembling, fingers sliding against Zoro’s hand with every shake. “Nami yanked it out of me. Which is why I’ve been avoiding you for the past week.”

“I thought you were avoiding me because you found out I liked you,” Zoro muttered. His fingertips brushed against the pads of your hand, and you swallowed, mouth all dry. “So.”

You tentatively lifted your gaze, finding Zoro’s eyes even amidst the darkness. They were shining, a slight glint from the moon coming in through the window reflecting along the shadows of his face. Carefully, his hand slid fully into yours, fingers lacing together, and it was like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place.

Zoro slid back down onto his back, tugging you along with him. You settled back on your pillow, using your other hand to pull the blankets back over your chest. For a full stagnant minute the two of you lay there, hands intertwined in the space between.

You were the one who made the first move, then, thumb running up and down the length of his index finger. Zoro ran with the action, tugging your hand just slightly until you were leaning into the dip of the mattress, gravity pulling you closer to his body.

He lifted your entwined hands, tugging you towards him until your back was pressed right to his chest. Then he settled your arms back down again, the back of his palm resting against your belly.

You swallowed hard, able to hear the sound of your throat in the utter silence. Zoro exhaled, his breath softly brushing against your neck. “Good night,” you whispered.

Zoro pressed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, a ghost of something that left tingles fluttering down your spine, the drunken butterflies in your stomach swaying at the action. “Good night,” he murmured, and your breath caught.

He was warm, oh so warm, like a campfire with licks of flame that softened your hands in the dead of night. And even though you wanted to speak up, question when he’d started liking you, if he was lying or not—you were content to stay here in his arms and drift off to sleep.

So you did, settling back into his embrace with your head spinning and senses murmuring, all dizzy like you were caught in a dream. Eventually, your tiredness got the better of you, and you felt your senses fading as the world around you darkened to black.

The two of you jolted awake to the knocking and the very unpleasant hum of Nami’s voice. “Rise and shine!” she called through the door, and you blinked, bleary eyes adjusting to the light as you suppressed your yawn.

Zoro jolted up beside you, practically giving you whiplash as his arm was still comfortably around your waist. Your fingers tingled, and you realized that you’d fallen asleep with your hands laced together.

“Nami,” you grumbled, about to rise out of bed before Zoro stopped you. You turned towards him in question, only to stop short as you registered the look in his eyes. His gaze was deep, piercing; those butterflies rose up again in your stomach, apparently awake after they’d passed out from their drunken stupor. You swallowed. “Hi?”

“Hey,” he murmured. “They locked you in my room.”

“I’m going to knock Nami over the head with a rowboat oar,” you said blandly, eyes flickering towards the door, which Nami was still pounding on. You vaguely heard shuffling sounds, like the crew were working to move the barrels they’d stuck in front of the door to free you from your prison. “You can have the rest of them, if you want.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” Zoro agreed. “But first…”

“First?” you prompted.

Zoro brought your hands—still intertwined—to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss along your knuckles. “Good morning,” he said, voice low and awkward, like he wasn’t used to letting the words out of his mouth. He let your hands drift to his lap, leaning forward until his forehead brushed against yours.

A faint sigh escaped your lips when he finally kissed you. It wasn’t rough or hard; it was a soft press, like your hands had been just a few hours ago. There was a degree of finality to it; a held-in breath that’d exhaled from your lungs, one you hadn’t realized was building up that much pressure until you finally let it all go.

The door flung open, and you jolted away, but Zoro tilted your head back towards him before you could. At the mouth of the room, Luffy had started screaming. “Aww,” Nami cooed. Behind her, Usopp and Sanji were gripping onto each other like they were watching a particularly engaging fight.

A steady blush rose along your cheeks, but Zoro was absolutely shameless, the hand not held in yours raising up to give them the finger. “Get out of my room.”

“Told you it’d be okay,” Nami sing-songed, and then you really did break away from Zoro, picking up the object nearest to you and barrelling towards her. She shrieked, dodging out of the doorway as Zoro laughed from behind you.

“Wait!” she stopped you from whacking your pillow against her head, raising up her arms in defense. “I was right. I saw you two—”

“Nami,” you started, dangerously low. “You locked me in his room.”

“Yeah, to help you!” she cried defensively, slowly taking backwards steps as you gained on her. “Come on. We can talk about this.”

“Good luck,” Zoro called out from behind you—you turned around, catching his gaze. He had gotten up, leaning against the doorway and watching you with a sparkle of fondness in his eye. “You’ll need it.”

You blew him a kiss, ignoring the long groan it pulled out of Luffy from beside Zoro in the hallway. And then you turned around. Nami had darted off, taking the time you’d been distracted to run off. “Oh no you don’t!” you yelled, and then lunged after her with Zoro laughing all the while.

Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad thing, you thought. But you were still going to beat Nami’s ass.

#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #reader insert #x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla #opla zoro x reader #opla fanfiction #opla fanfic #kiki writes!

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amsgrey · 2 months

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request for a kaz brekker x reader one bed trope! literally some of my favorite fics to read ever!!! def with some angst maybe reader gets injured on the heist and kaz has to help. reader insists that they should sleep in the same bed and they end up confessing feelings or something. SO GOOD

Thank you for the request! Sorry it took so long but hey, it's alright.

Warnings: Violence, Blood, typical canon violence, kind of OOC!Kaz, semi-bad writing.

“Hey,” Nina didn’t bother knocking as she stepped into your room, “There’s someone here to see you.”

You looked up from your small desk, “Who?”

Nina shrugged, “Wouldn’t say, but she won't leave until she speaks with you.”

You frowned, getting to your feet and following after Nina. A million possibilities ran through your mind as you descended the stairs, you didn’t know many people from Ketterdam, or you didn’t know anyone that Kaz also didn’t know. WHo had come to speak to you was a complete mystery to you and judging by the way the Crows were gathered at the bottom of the stairs, it was a mystery to them too.

“Who is she?” Jesper broke the heavy silence first.

You rolled your eyes, “How am i supposed to know, Jes?”

Walking past him and the others you looked for the woman. There were a few dregs hanging around in the slat, like always. Hiding from the damp Ketterdam air or filling in their afternoons with ale and gambling. It meant the woman stuck out like a sore thumb. When you finally saw her, your blood ran cold.

“Oh, my,” The woman stepped forward, she grabbed your hands and smiled at you, “Look how grown up you are, my dear.”

She pulled you into a hug, an awkward show of affection that she had never done before.

“Mother.”

She hadn’t changed in the 7 or so years since you saw her last, a few graying hairs and wrinkles around her eyes were the only evidence time had passed. She still wore the same turquoise dress, the fabric stained and dirty where it spent too many years dragging on the dirt. She had tied a knitted shawl around her shoulders, to stave off the cold of the barrel and to make herself look more presentable. When you were a child on the farm with your parents, your mother would refuse to do any of the hard labor or household duties, always dressed in her ‘fine’ clothes and sitting by a window like the queen of Ravka.

You hated her for it then, the way she forced you to conduct her duties. The hard labor with your father on the farm, the chores inside the home, raising your three younger siblings. Looking at the woman before you now, you hated her just as much.

“What do you want, mother?” You forced out through gritted teeth.

The woman batted your hand she still held, a sharp smack to chide you for your tone, “Is that how you speak to the woman who raised you?”

She didn’t raise you though. Your father was the one who taught you everything you knew, cared and loved you. The marriage of your parents had been of convenience, a rich farmer up the road had fallen on hard times so he married off his only daughter to your father. Something neither of them wanted.

When your father had died suddenly in a farming accident, your mother had sold you to slavers, without a second thought. You had spent years in Ketterdam trying to bury the memories of your younger brothers screaming for you to stay, the chains that chaffed and burnt your skin and the cruel men who didn’t care about anything but making coins.

Standing with your mother before you, her soft hands gripping you so tightly, you felt like a young girl all over again. Begging for affection from a woman who hated your existence, cursed to always be nothing to her. You could still remember the beatings and the screaming, the bruises that you tried to hide and the permanent split in your lip which took years to properly heal.

Kaz was watching the whole encounter, quiet and calculating like he always was. The other crows were growing concerned, there was an air of uncertainty that settled over them all.

“What can we help you with?” Kaz finally spoke, he stepped closer to you, towering over your mother. Having him at your side brought you ease, a feeling of calm that always came over you when he was near. Kaz was prepared for anything, he always looked out for you and the crows.

“And you are?” Your mother snapped, glaring at Kaz.

Kaz didn’t seem bothered, “Are you here for something? Or to terrorize your daughter?”

You glanced back at Kaz, he had a look of pure rage in his eyes. You hadn’t told Kaz the details of your past, but he knew your mother sold you to slavers. You realized suddenly you didn’t want to be in the middle of Kaz and your mother fighting.

You grabbed your mothers arm, dragging her away from the gathered Crows and Kaz’s glower and pulling her outside. In the Ketterdam air things were immediately colder, you hadn’t grabbed your coat so you could feel it even more.

“What are you doing here?” You demanded.

“Can I not come see my daughter?”

“You never cared before, I didn’t even know you knew this is where I lived. You sold me to slavers,” You cried, stepping away as you started to get upset. “What in Sankta Alina could you want?”

“I am married,” Your mother boasted, “He lives in the Zelver district, we want you to come have dinner.”

You were reeling, so much information was thrown at you all at once. You gapped to answer.

“Your brothers will be there too,” Your mother waved her hand like she was dismissing your concerns, “They stayed on the farm.”

“Why- why do you want me there?”

“To make amends, my love,” She took your hands again, “It is time we act like a family again. Perhaps you could bring that guard dog of yours, act civilized.”

You wanted to say yes, straight away you wanted to say yes and trust that she had true intentions. But there was something nagging in your mind.

“Who is it that you're married to, mother?”

“A Merchant, trades with the Ravkan crown, Alexei Berezin.”

You recognized the name immediately, he had one of the largest mansions in the Zelver district, rivaled only by foreign dignitaries. He had brought in a large shipment of Ravkan gold and silk, Kaz had stolen half of it almost immediately, because Berezin had thought himself untouchable.

“When's dinner?” You forced out, trying not to let your knowledge of the man show.

“Tomorrow, be there by seven.”

She wandered away, slipping into the crowd of foot traffic and joining the mess of colours.

“Alexei Berezin.”

You forced a smile, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The man looked over you and Kaz like you were nothing, he grunted in greeting and disappeared towards the drinks cart.

You looked at Kaz, “Too late to leave?”

Kaz smiled, it made him look softer somehow, “We don’t have to stay long, let's hope Inej and Wylan are quick.”

A servant greeted you as you walked further into the drawing room, she offered you and Kaz wine in crystal glasses. You had played being rich at banquets and galas before, it was easy to hide in a crowd of rich people to steal from them, but here holding the crystal glass made you feel so exposed. The only thing that was stopping you from running out the door was Kaz by your side. He always looked out for you, tonight would be no different.

Your mother had lied, your brothers were not at the dinner. She had spun some more lies about how they hadn't been able to make the journey but you wondered if they were even invited in the first place. You, Kaz, your mother and her new husband all sat at the ridiculously long table, eating silently except for a few forced comments.

“So,” Berezin belched, downing his fourth glass of brandy, “Mr Brekker, how is business?”

Kaz looked at you from across the table, “As good as yours, Berezin.”

Berezin snared, “So then you admit to taking my shipment?”

“A shipment?” Kaz leant back, starting to enjoy the game.

Berezin started getting red in the face, rage barely contained in his eyes, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Dirty Hands.”

A smile ghosted across Kaz’s face, “Is this why you extended the invite, Berezin? Hoping to get your silks back?”

You jumped when Berezin slammed his fist on the table, he stood abruptly, his chair falling backwards loudly, “You listen to me here boy! You will pay me back what I am owed or I will make your life a living hell!”

“A living hell?”

“You have no idea who you are messing with, you and your little whore will pay-”

Kaz was on his feet faster than you had time to process, “Watch your mouth, Berezin, or silks won't be the only thing you lose.”

Berezin started shouting in rage, his words mostly coming out as jumbled insults and threats which didn’t mean anything for you and Kaz.

“We’re leaving,” You said to your mother, not bothering to bid her a proper goodbye as you joined Kaz’s side and retrieved your coats.

You were both halfway through the foyer when things took a turn.

Somewhere in the garden outside a fire roared to life, a green chemical fire that was Wylan's emergency beacon. Kaz urged you to walk faster, his cane striking loudly against the marble floor as you both tried to leave before Berezin caught on.

“Thief!”

Kaz grabbed your hand, and both of you ran the rest of the way out of the house and down the garden path. Berezin was screaming from inside the house, shouting orders to his few guards and screaming for someone to alert the Stadwatch. You and Kaz didn’t stop running until you reached the canal, skittering to a stop and dropping into the waiting boat. Matthias and Wylan were already there, Wylan was heaving like he had just finished a mad dash too.

“Did you get it?” Kaz demanded as Matthias started to row the boat towards 4th Harbor.

Wylan was nodding, “Handed it off to Inej, she and Jesper are heading to the warehouse now.”

You had to give it to Kaz, when he had explained the plan this morning after all-night scheming, you didn’t think you would be able to pull it off. But yet again, he proved he knew everyone's skills.

The plan was somewhat simple, you and Kaz would entertain Berezin while Wylan posed as a servant and slipped into Berezin's office. Wylan would swipe the key to Berezins safe which sat in his warehouse; it was old and Ravkan, protected by small science. You didn’t have enough time on the first job to try and crack it, so now was the perfect time. The original plan was for you and Kaz to stay all through dinner and whatever other pleasantries were to be had, while Wylan snuck through undetected. His Green fire beacon was a sign he had been caught, so you and Kaz hightailed out before things got too nasty.

Inej and Jesper were on their way to the safe now, while you, Kaz, Matthias and Wylan drew attention in the opposite direction. Headed towards 4th Harbor meant the four of you could lead the following guards and Stadwatch into the twisting streets and narrow wharves and hopefully escape into the crowd.

As Matthias moored the boat to the side of the canal, you and Wylan climbed out and surveyed where you were.

“Are you alright?” You asked him, still aware of how his hands shook.

Wylan nodded, but you were unconvinced.

Matthias and Kaz climbed out of the boat after you, the four of you standing at the canal edge for a moment while you tried to compose yourselves.

“Hey! Stop right there!”

“Bastards,” Kaz swore, already ushering the three of you to run before they started to shoot.

“Kaz, they're after us, not Wylan and Matthias…” You shouted as you ran down the street alongside the canal, headed towards the Council of the Tides Watchtower.

Kaz ordered everyone to stop, “Y/N’s right, Wylan, Matthias, head back towards the slat, take the long way and check for tails, we’ll go the opposite way.”

Matthias started to argue, “No, we should-”

You all ducked as gunfire echoed through the streets. Bullets ricochet off the cobbles at your feet, dangerously close to hitting one of you.

“Go!” Kaz yelled over the noise, blindly reaching for your hand and pulling you along with him as you headed away from Matthias and Wylan and towards the government district.

You were right, the three or four guards from Berezin's estate followed you, not your friends as you rushed through the dark streets. At this time of the night, the Crow Club and the surrounding area would be buzzing with life, but in this part of town, everyone was shut inside asleep. There weren’t many lights, aside from a few lanterns left on in people's doorways, so as you and Kaz ran you stuck to shadows and unlit alleyways, hoping to lose your stalkers in the maze of buildings.

Kaz pulled you to a stop after running for ten minutes and started to take a toll on him and his leg. The two of you ducked into an alley, Kaz leaned heavily against the wall and his cane, heaving as he regained his breath. You glanced over him, worried that he wouldn’t be able to continue for much longer.

“Maybe we lost them,” You whispered, peaking around the corner to the main street, which was completely deserted aside from a rogue tabby.

Kaz nodded, unable to speak a reply. You kept glancing from the main street to the end of the alley, which appeared as if it curved around and kept going. You had no idea if it was a dead end or not, but staying here was making you anxious, it was still too exposed.

“I Have a safe house not far from here,” Kaz said, pushing off from the wall and leaning on his cane.

“A safe house?” You replied, “In the government district?”

Kaz rolled his eyes, “You underestimate me.”

If he hadn’t been hurt you would have pushed him away, chuckling at his comment. Instead, you opted for offering him your arm so you could walk out of the alley together, hopefully, Stadwatch who patrolled the area would think you were a couple returning home.

The two of you walked arm and arm down a few streets, smiling pleasantly at the passing Stadwatch or the rare delegate returning to their boarding. After a few turns Kaz said you weren’t far from the safe house, which was an old apartment above a tailor.

“How did you even get an apartment above a tailor?” You teased, “Hiding a side business?”

The sound of a gun cocking stopped you both in your tracks.

“You even twitched, I put a bullet in the girl.”

The barrel of the gun was jammed into your back, the voice behind you ordering you both to turn with your hands up.

The two men before you were guards for Berezin, you could tell from the crest that was pinned to their jackets. You looked around for the other two men, but they weren’t around. Hopefully, they were far away, you weren't sure if you could win a 2-1 battle tonight.

You moved to pull your flint from your pocket, you had stowed it away safely the first time you and Kaz had run for your lives tonight, now you wished you stayed holding it. Your hand slipped into the pocket of your coat, your fingertips brushed the cool material, pulling into your fist and preparing yourself to summon. You only had one chance at this. The sound of the gun firing struck you first, the deafening crack that bounced from the walls. The searing pain in your right side forced your fist open in shock, your flint clattering to the cobbles as your other hand came to cradle your side. Immediately your blood started seeping through your fingers, soaking through your coat and dripping onto the street below. You looked up at the man who shot you, just in time to see Kaz bring his cane cracking into the side of the man's face. It sent him sprawling, the force of the blow knocking him off balance. You used your opportunity to kick the second man in the shin, stunning him for long enough for Kaz to incapacitate him too.

Kaz wound his arm around your waist, pulling you away from the two men as they groaned on the ground and dragging you up the street.

“Just hold on a little longer,” He spoke as he led you down another side alley, “We’re almost there.”

He forced you to stop before an old door as he fiddled with the lock. The dark green paint was peeling, revealing the chipped and water-stained wood. Kaz flickered with the lock for a few seconds and the door swung open, revealing a steep staircase into the safe house.

“You’re kidding,” You groaned, letting Kaz shuffle you into the small space as he shut and locked the door.

“Go on then,” Kaz smirked, pushing you up the stairs.

The two of you climbed up the stairs, silent as you struggled together. When you reached the top, Kaz opened the final door and you both tumbled through over the threshold. The safe house was less of a house and more of a safe room. Filled with crates and shadows of objects you couldn’t make out, it felt much more cramped than your room in the Slat. Kaz pulled out his bone light, casting the room in the pale green light. With the new light, you could see the space clearer. A sink in the far corner close to the only window, and a bed pushed as far from the window as possible. You stumbled over to the sink, holding yourself up on the basin as you tried to get a look in the small mirror at your wound.

“Let me help,” Kaz ordered, pulling out a crate from the wall and forcing you to sit down.

Kaz looked over your side, letting you know the bullet had gone straight through, but would need some stitches and to be cleaned. There was a pause where you both realized you would have to remove your coat and top so Kaz could see better. With shaky hands, you slowly unbuttoned your coat. Kaz helped you guide it off your shoulders, letting it fall out of the way.

“You’ll have to unzip my dress,” You whispered to Kaz, hands going back to your throbbing side.

Kaz cleared his throat, nodding and stepping around you to follow your instructions. You could feel the smooth leather of his gloves ghost over the skin on your neck as he fiddled for the zip. He couldn’t get a good grip, abandoning one of his gloves on the floor so he could hold the small tab properly. Kaz’s fingers were freezing, When he touched the skin on your back the chill seeped under your skin and into your bones. You focused all your energy on not shivering against the feeling. He gently folded the dress down, letting it fall around your hips so he could see the bullet wound clearer. It left you in your bra and skirt half of your dress, yet you didn't feel exposed. Kaz was nothing if not respectful to you and you truly felt nothing but trust for him now.

There were no words between you as Kaz stepped to your side and crouched down. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, but he was focused solely on your wound, his brow scrunched up in a frown.

The two of you stayed silent as Kaz worked. You handed him what he asked for, a wet rag, sutures and a needle, a bandage. When he had finally tied off the last stitch, he started to bandage your waist. By now he had abandoned his other glove to the floor too, both of them covered in your blood and useless to him. He focused on the warmth of your skin as he wrapped the bandage around your waist, making sure to wrap it a few times to ensure it was secure. When he was finished, he noticed how quiet you had gotten, staring down at the floor with slightly glazed eyes.

“Are you alright?” Kaz’s voice came out more of a croak, just above a whisper. It pulled you from your dissociation, pulling you into the moment. You turned to look at him, The bastard of the Barrel kneeling by your side, hands stained with your blood and the most caring, almost loving look in his eyes.

You must have lost more blood than you thought, Kaz did not love you.

“I’m fine.”

Kaz nodded once, shakingly pushing himself off the ground and turning on the water to wash clean his hands. You didn’t move from the crate, mostly because you were unsure of what to do and also because there wasn’t exactly space to move in the room anyway.

“You should sleep.” Kaz said, refusing to look up at you from the sink.

“We both should. You can take the bed.”

Kaz shook his head, “No. You're injured, you take it.”

You rolled your eyes, “Did you sleep last night Kaz?”

There was a heavy silence.

“So you need to sleep now. There's plenty of room for both of us anyway.”

You knew as soon as you said it the atmosphere had changed. It was well known Kaz kept his distance when he wasn’t wearing gloves. You had rarely seen him without them no matter where he was. After the longest silence, Kaz finally nodded, letting out the quietest, “Okay.”

He turned to you, “There should be a stash of clothes in one of these crates, I could find them?”

You smiled, nodding. Sitting with the top of your dress folded down was starting to get cold and sleeping like this would only make things more awkward.

Kaz riffled through a few crates, finding ammo and whiskey before finding the crate filled with shirts and trousers. He pulled one of each out, setting them on the bed and turning his back so that you could get changed with some semblance of modesty. It was amusing for you, that he had already seen enough but he was too kind to even risk a glance now.

When you had gotten into the clothes, with a little struggle trying to lift your arm into the sleeve, you pulled back the quilt on the bed. Kaz helped, letting you shuffle across the bed to where it pressed to the wall. The bed was so much bigger than your one, more likely double the size. Your bed hardly fits you in it, slightly too short and skinny because of the awkward rooms of the Slat. This bed was different. Although not as soft as your own, the size meant you and Kaz both had enough room so that you weren’t too close.

Kaz was about to lie the quilt down and get on top when you stopped him.

“Are you mad?”

“What?” He scoffed, confused as to why you were heckling him now.

“Kaz Brekker, you will get cold. Just get under the quilt and stop acting like we’re some teenagers who can’t get ahold of ourselves.”

Kaz stared at you in shock, blinking down at you with pure perplexion in his eyes.

“Jesper was right,” He sighed, getting situated under the quilt to please you.

“Right about what?” You pressed, turning in the bed to fix him with a glare.

“You are cranky when you're tired.”

“Oh shut up,” You scoffed, rolling back to stare at the ceiling and now him.

Kaz chuckled, by now the bone light was fading steadily, the pale green light becoming nothing more than a faint glow from the corner of the room. You couldn’t see Kaz’s face too well, barrel able to make out the faint outline of his features in the dark.

For a while, the two of you lay in silence, the only noise coming from the far-off sound of waves in the harbor. With no one else on the streets, every time footsteps echoed around in the streets below, you held your breath.

“They won’t find us,” Kaz whispered, feeling you tense next to him.

You didn’t respond, trying not to panic yourself further.

“Listen to me,” Kaz shifted, the bed shaking slightly under you both, “We’re safe here, I won’t let anything happen to you, not again.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” You responded, mirroring Kaz’s movements to face him, “Jobs go wrong sometimes.”

Kaz didn’t react, “Sleep. We’ll head back to the salt when the city wakes up.”

You wouldn’t say it out loud, but Kaz being by your side to protect you filled you with a sense of ease. You could relax back into the pillow and trust that he was going to look after you, no matter what. As you slipped into sleep, you thought dreamily about how much you cared for the bastard of the barrel, even if he didn’t share the same feelings.

Kaz was thinking the same as he watched over you. He sat up in the bed as soon as you had fallen asleep, staring at the door in the dark, prepared for anything that might come barreling through it. He cared too much about you to let you get hurt again, especially when he was the only one around to protect you. He would never say it out loud, like you, but he would do anything to protect you from harm in the city where no one mourned.

#kaz brekker x you #ketterdam #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #kaz rietveld #nina zenik x reader #six of crows nina #six of crows x reader #six of crows wylan #six of crows jesper #shadow and bone #soc #sab #one bed trope

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onlyyvette · 4 months

Text

★ DAY 4 - breeding | grimlock

kinktober 2023 - masterlist.

warnings: top/dom reader + sub/bottom grimlock + cybertronian reader + heat cycles + breeding + robo tits + feral behavior + kind of dub-con since grimmy is in heat + public sex + you guys literally frag in the hallways of the ark + grimlock needs to get dicked down NOW + yes i do enjoy mechpreg sue me

a/n: Idk why but grimlock just awakens something in me; also this would most likely take place in the g1 show but i love using idw grimlock's design and character

Another day that Grimlock was stuck on this stupid planet with it's stupid rocks, and it's stupid fleshlings, and of course, stupid Decepticons. And least, but definitely not last, this cursed heat-cycle from the Slagmaker himself.

Heat-cycles weren't typically too big of a problem for most Cybertronians. They were short periods of time where mechs charge soar to unbelievable heights once every few years, usually satiable by heat-repressants or a good session of marathon sex. Usually the first option was chosen, the second method being better suited for two or more mechs in heat that are able to keep up with each other. Even when none of those options were available, it's only the first day or two that are the worst, the heat enough to make a mech pounce on someone. Still, locking yourself in a habsuite with enough energon is an easy fix. But despite how relatively easy it is to deal with a heat-cycle, Grimlock just couldn't shake his off.

Grimlock first realized his heat was was approaching when he was "sparring" with another mech. In actuality, he was just working off some steam and chose the closest poor shmuck to help him out. When he barreled into his opponent and knocked them flat onto the ground, instead of letting up, he stayed leaning into them, heavily panting as he suddenly felt dizzy and...hot. It was when Grimlock realized the he was panting and damn near about to rut against the mech he abruptly got up and excused himself. Of course, without actually saying excuse me of course.

Grimlock immediately made a beeline to the medbay. He usually enjoyed his heats when he had potential partners, but the desolate planet he was stuck just made him want to completely get rid of that extra charge. He downed all the heat suppressants that Ratchet gave him and went about his merry day before that same sensor-clogging hit him again. But he already took the suppressants! While it made no sense to him why his heat was still persisting despite the medicine was beyond him, but he was quickly beginning to forget about that train of thought when the fog started to cloud over his mind...fuck he was so horny.

Grimlock could feel his array heating up, his spike throbbing as it begged to be released from its confinements and his valve lips drooling, already puffy without even touching them. Maybe he could just release his panel really quick and just sneak a servo under his array and touch his needy valve. Just a little bit though! Just enough to get rid of this annoying charge and...

Before Grimlock even noticed it, he was fingering open his valve, forcing his blunt digits into the dripping wet heat between his thighs. "Mmhhhghh...hahhh..." Grimlock panted heavily, continuing to thrust into his valve, hitting whatever nodes he could find. He whined, thinking about how shameful it was for him to be fucking himself on his digits right in the hallway of the Ark but it was oh-so-hard for him to linger on that though because of the dizzying heat clouding his senses. The dinobot began to slide down the wall he was leaning on for support because of how weak his legs were, yet his servo never left his array.

"Haahh--Ahh! Ghh..." Grimlock's moans became more vocal as he began to reach his high. By now, Grimlock was face down, his aft in the air trembling while his digits continued to pump themselves in and out his sensitive valve. His frame was running so hot and his processor couldn't even begin to worry about how mortifying his predicament was--he just wanted someone to help him out dammit!

✦ ✦✦✦✦✦✦ ✦

You were walking down one of the many hallways in the ark after coming back from a sparring session with another bot. Your frame was aching from the bruises you got but it was a pretty decent excursion. As you were making your way to your habsuite, you caught a whiff of a sweet, tantalizing smell. Instead of making your mouth water, it made your array feel tight. For some odd, unknown reason, you decided to follow the smell, heavy pedes picking up with speed as you went.

Before you could see what was happening, you could hear the sound of rasping moans and slight squelching sounds. Who in their right mind would be self servicing out in the open like that? Despite the question filling your mind, you turned the corner and were met with one of the most beautiful images your optics had ever laid eyes on.

There was Grimlock, powerful and fearless leader of the dinobots, writhing on the floor as he shoved four of his digits into his sopping valve, aft swaying as he let out pathetic mewls and low growls. Suddenly, his EM field enveloped you, pulsing messages of want/need/please/pleasepleaseplease-- The poor mech was a mess. The moment you saw him, you could feel your spike immediately pressurize with a thunk against your spike panel. You couldn't help it! What else were you supposed to do when one of the most attractive Cybertronians you had ever met was in heat, desperate for spike.

The moment Grimlock noticed your presence, he slowed down his digits pushing into his valve and spread his legs wider, a more inviting position. When he made a low whining sound and swayed his hips again, your patient broke and your spike released itself.

As soon as your spike pressurized, Grimlock took the opportunity to lift himself off the floor swiftly and tackle you to the ground so he was sitting on top of you. Now you were no small bot, you were nearly Grimlock's size but you were so caught up in admiring your superior's frame that he caught you off balance. In all honesty, even if you did know what he was going to do, you still would have let him. "Fffrag...frag me..." The arousal was practically dripping from the dinobot's words. He rolled his hips into you, rubbing his bare valve on the underside of your spike, wordlessly begging you to fuck him and a sad attempt to stop himself from just dropping down onto your length.

You groaned as the nodes on your spike brushed against Grimlock's plush, wet valve. You still couldn't fully believe the sight before your optics. Maybe that was the reason why you felt frozen in place while the dinobot helplessly rubbed his valve raw on your spike. Surprisingly, even in his heat-addled mind, Grimlock still wanted his partner to be okay with his advances. Finally though, you lifted him up with your servos on his waist, positioning him right above your spike.

It all went too quick when Grimlock lifted up his huge, crimson thighs and lowered himself onto your thick spike. "Graahh-- HaaAH! Ah! Mnghhh!" Grimlock threw his head back and immediately began bouncing on your spike. His greedy valve clung to your spike with every miniscule movement, as if it didn't want your length to exit his valve for a moment. "Hahh, Grimlock! Fuck..." You gripped his hips even tighter and took control, thrusting into the mech's warm valve, releasing howls of pleasure from said mech. He didn't even realize it, but by now, Grimlock's chestplates parted, revealing the soft protometal hidden within. His tits were large and heavy, a beautiful matte black color to them. He wasn't producing any energon, but it's not like that was going to stop you.

You immediately latched onto one of Grimlock's nozzles with your mouth, nipping it softly. The moment you did that, Grimlock fucking whimpered, holding onto your helm and pushing his refineries into your face. As you suckled on his tit, you could finally feel his heat affecting your own thoughts. All you could think about at that moment was fucking him hard and filling him up with your transfluid, sparking him up and repeating the process all over again. You let out a small growl at the thought of breeding the mech and bit down on his nozzle hard, causing the poor mech to spit out staticky moans. "I'm gonna fill you up... fill you with-- ah!-- m-my sparklings... make sure you know they're mine." You didn't even realize hat you were speaking but Grimlock clearly did, since he reacted to your possessive words with a loud keen.

The moment you finally his his ceiling node, he keened, practically hugging your helm as he overloaded hard. You weren't done with him though. You pushed him to the ground and flipped him over onto his stomach and lifted his aft up. It wasn't easy to manhandle such a big mech, but his dizzied state from his heat made it easier. When it finally hit Grimlock that he was empty, he whined and wiggled his hips a bit but you held him in place and pushed into him once more.

"Guuhh, uuhnGGH! F-fragg, HaAHH!" Grimlock let out sinful groans as your spike kept filling him up. You really were he perfect mech for him. With every thrust, you spike rammed into his ceiling node, threatening to force open his gestation seal and fucking a sparkling into him. And he would love every fucking moment of it. With every drag of your spike against his walls, he let out howls of pleasure that you were sure everyone in the Ark could hear. But by this point, you couldn't care less; you were too busy fucking the mech under you to have any shame at the moment. All you knew was that something inside of you was screaming at you to fill the dinobot up with your spike and transfluid and make sure it stayed in there. By now, Grimlock had overloaded twice, his hazy mind unsure of exactly when his second overload had hit him, yet his charge never left his frame. Still, all he wanted was for you to already overload in him, spill your transfluid into his needy hole and make him beg for even more.

When you finally overloaded into Grimlock's hungry valve, you barely even registered it, not slowing down a beat as your transfluid flooded the mech's valve. He immediately felt your transfluid hit the edges of his tank as you filled him up over and over again. When did he even open his gestation seal again? Not like i mattered anyway, because you were still pounding his valve like your life depended on it. A distant part of his mind wished that you had a knot, mod or natural. Oh how he wished you had a fat knot to shove into his tight hole and keep you inside of him so none of your transfluid would spill...

At last, you finally slowed down a bit, pushing your spike in and out of Grimlock's valve at a much steadier pace. You could feel your transfluid and his lubricants flowing past his puffy valve lips and you truly believed that Grimlock was satisfied. He had been railed so hard he nearly saw Primus himself and was absolutely stuffed full with all your transfluid. As you eventually came to a stop and began, reluctantly, withdrawing your spike from his wet heat, Grimlock let out a low whine. "N-no...don't pull out...I want more. Please." He sounded so needy and pathetic and with the way that he kept rubbing his aft back on your crotch made you unable to reject him. If Grimlock was fully aware of his pitiful behavior, he would have wanted to snuff out your spark and anyone else who could have heard the two of you. But for now, all he he knew was that you began to push your spike into him once more and he was going to be fucked full again. Probably not for the last time.

#vetty's thirsts. ✿#vetty's works. ✿#vetty's kinktober. ✿#valveplug #transformers #transformers idw #maccadam #grimlock #grimlock x reader #top reader #dom reader

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d20unfuckability · 1 year

Note

I am campaigning hard for a Gilear sweep and here’s why.

Look. We all know he is not fuckable at all. Off the radar. Bottom of the barrel. Remember when he got stuck in the wheel well of the Hang Van for hours (days?)? I don’t think we have canon evidence that Gilear has fucked since the divorce and I don’t believe he psychologically or logistically can. He’ll get stuck in a sex toy. He’ll spill yogurt in bed. It will be pathetic and ridiculous and no sex will occur because he will just fuck it all up. Pun intended.

But he has to win anyway because the spirit of the character is that despite his in-game failure at just about everything, the players and us as viewers are rooting for him. We know that because of the rules of comedy he cannot succeed, and we cheer him on anyway. Brennan hates Gilear so goddamn much and we LOVE him and believe in his (well established to be canonically nonexistent) potential to do great things, save the world, and to maybe, one day, fuck.

Thank you and goodnight.

I'm with you on the Gilear sweep.

But here's the thing- he's EXTREMELY fuckable.

In the very literal sense of able to be fucked. I firmly believe that the only thing he's good at is getting slammed down big style.

If not through the power of his fuckin enormous dick, how do you think he earned a place in Hallariel's bed? By being charming? Hell no.

The man got stuck in a wheel well for god knows how long and took it like a champ. He is constantly being injured in absolutely ridiculous ways and just keeps on truckin'. His pace is slow, but it's unfaltering.

Whether he's topping from the bottom or getting pounded himself, he can keep. fucking. going. Use him like a goddamn toy; the man's built to be ridden hard and put away wet.

Slam him into the bed and make the old man cry. It's what he wants, needs, and deserves.

#gilear faeth

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eonian-nightmare · 11 months

Text

Okay, yes the new episode was alot but its making me think about time and space and science again. Like our resident scientist often does. And like.... can we talk about how everything with carlos related back to "time".

Like okay, let's talk seriously, we know that Carlos has had a few interactions with weird timelines

He was apparently missing from the main world for decades.He was in the DOW for 10 years, He didn't age in nightvale for a large portion of the time he was there.

But that's hardly scrapping the bottom of the barrel. Like honestly, has anyone sat back and thought seriously about this, about why everything about carlos comes back to time.

He'll, his first major interaction with us was him trying to pick apart and measure time in a realm he was not used to. He got annoyed when cecil told him to just drop it. It's almost like he wanted to control it.

And that's kind of what he was trying to do in the DOW wasn't it?. Like honestly. Think about the logic behind the science used to measure time there. It's a place where the sun never sets, time literally works different from where he's used to, the place was barren. He would have had to literally do so much testing to even just get a vague concept of time there vs nightvale. And it would've taken so long. It would've been quite scientifically interesting. Maybe even more so than nightvale purely due to this.

We could talk about the fact that one of the only things we've heard about carlos family is that his mother gifted him a clock?

How his first major gift to cecil was a watch that beat nightvale logic and could tell the time.

Can we think about how almost every special rant he has involves time in one way or another?

Can we talk about for some reason carlos' memory is never affected with timeline changes?

Can we talk about how he fixed the issue with telly and the time line, or how simply he said he would keep trying and fighting against time if cecil didn't remember him when he forgot.

Can we mention that 5 years ago carlos was supposed to be 41, but at the same time had somehow reached the level of professor and had tenure, and managed to disappear for decades. Or the fact when he told cecil he'll find his way back to him when stuck in the DOW, he was talking about hours, days, weeks, months as if it's all the same and doesn't matter?

Can we mention how the person carlos loves the most struggles with the concept of time. Has memory blanks, a fear of ageing, gets scared to look in the mirror, doesn't like keeping track of how long has past, has had numerous issues where he's gone through time and been unable to tell how long exactly has passed.

Can we talk about how nightvale was originally destroyed, how it broke time and space and pulled itself apart.

Can we talk about how something happened before carlos arrived here, something he hates talking about, something to do with a massive Phantom ocean. Can we talk about the quote from Dracula "I have crossed oceans of time to find you"...

Anyway.... I think we should talk about time more,

#wtnv #welcome to night vale #carlos dave robles #wtnv carlos #carlos the scientist #time #wtnv thoughts #wtnv spoilers

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loversj0y · 9 months

Note

for the Wilbur Drabble Taylor swift thing can you PLEASE DO DELICATE

delicate

event masterlist

pairing: wilbur soot x gn! streamer! reader

tw: slight agoraphobia, bars, drinking, insecurities

notes: sorry abt the delays and stuff! love this song so fuucking much i <3333 this was my most listened to song last year

word count: 1.9k

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @lillylvjy / @melunnek

It was almost a sick kind of amusing how easily words could be twisted. Within a week, you felt like you’d gone from the top of the world to the bottom of the barrel, when a stream clip of you talking about a fellow streamer got twisted into what felt like the whole world turning against you. It was stupid. You hated him for valid reasons, but you didn’t actually say anything, people just took things too far and now, even when you tried to clarify things, it only got worse. You watched with horrified eyes as friends turned their back on you, saying the worst fucking things about how you were a liar and a snake, over a stream clip taken out of context.

You wanted to hide. Entirely. Even knowing that you were only a Twitch Streamer, not some big time celebrity, it felt like every time you left the house you could feel people’s glares and angry stares (despite the fact that it was mostly in your head). Leaving your house became a stressful ordeal.

So you did hide. You stopped streaming and making content, except for all the ideas you wrote down because your brain was so wired for it at this point. But your dark bedroom became a sacred place, the only place you truly felt safe.

It was pretty late, nearing midnight when your phone buzzed on your nightstand, the screen lighting up the room.

‘hey, where are you?’ was all the text read. It was from Wilbur. You honestly barely even knew him a few months ago, but he somehow became your best friend. He stuck by you even despite what everyone said about you online, and you honestly questioned if he knew what happened.

‘Hiding again :(‘ You texted back simply.

He sent you his location, and you looked to check what it was. It was a shady dive bar on the outer part of town, away from most people.

‘I will literally pay for your uber. You need to leave your house and this place is really cool.’

You debated it for a long moment. You didn’t look perfect right now, but if you tossed on a better pair of pants and a jacket, you could fix up everything else easily. And it would be nice to get out of your house for at least a bit, even if the thought gave you anxiety.

‘Be there soon.’ You texted him after a few minutes of deliberation, standing slowly. You got dressed quickly and called an Uber, waiting for it to be outside before you actually left out your front door. The entire drive over mostly consisted of your fingers nervously drumming on your leg as anxiety filled you more and more.

By the time you arrived, you had half a mind to just ask the Uber to turn back around. But you already told Wilbur you’d be here, so you got out of the car and headed inside. It was a nice place, you did have to hand it to Wilbur. The front was primarily open, a patio with people chatting freely among themselves. None of them spared you a glance as you headed towards the main entrance, and you felt grateful for it. When you did walk in, a few heads turned, and your anxiety grew. After a moment of searching the slight crowd, you spotted Wilbur in the back, sitting at a two top alone. You smiled softly and waved as you started walking towards him.

He stood, coming up and giving you a hug, “You made it! I was getting a little worried you’d ditch.”

“I almost did,” you admitted softly, hugging him back, “But I think my Uber driver was getting pissed at my finger tapping, honestly.”

He laughed, sitting back down. You sat down across from him, smiling at him. He looked really nice, a blue vintage Nike jumper matched with a pair of dark jeans. The thing about Wilbur having stuck by you when no one else really did, was it lead to a fast development. The feelings you had for him went from friendly to romantic at some point, and although you couldn’t pinpoint when, it happened almost all at once and quickly. But you found yourself oddly content with it, the anxiety in your brain focused too much on your online life to focus on how you felt about a crush. It didn’t mean you weren’t nervous, but it was much more subdued when your mind was preoccupied with so much else.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” he smiled, “has it been bad today?” “Eh,” you shrugged, “Not any worse than the rest of the days, I guess.”

He nodded, “Every day it isn’t worse is progress, I’d say.”

You nodded, quietly taking a moment to look around the room. It had gotten busier, but it wasn’t overwhelming yet, especially with no one looking in your direction. You turned back to him, fiddling with the chipping paint at the edge of the table.

“Are you not worried?” You asked him, avoiding eye contact, “To be seen with me?”

He gave you a funny look, shrugging, “Honestly? I don’t give a shit. Isn’t it enough for me to know you and like you?”

You peered up at him, a soft flush covering your cheeks, “Yeah, I just mean like… I don’t want you to get into hot water for being seen with me.”

“Let them say what they want about me. I don’t do enough on the internet these days to even cause much talk anyways.” He smiled.

His smile brought a smile out of you, “If you’re sure.”

“Oh, trust me,” he chuckled, “I’m very sure.”

The majority of the night was fine, a few drinks keeping the conversation light. Wilbur did a fantastic job of keeping your paranoia at bay, for the most part. As the bar got a bit more full, it was inevitable for people to look at you both, and it became all too much when a couple gave you both several glances. Wilbur caught onto your growing paranoia, and he reached over, gently touching your arm.

“Hey, let’s get out of here. We can head to mind, if you want?”

You nodded, and in your slight panic, you took his hand into yours, holding onto him for support. He led you outside, hailing a cab.

He moved his hand to your back, rubbing it gently. “It’s alright,” he murmured, “You’re okay, alright?” You nodded, leaning into his touch, “Yeah, sorry, there were just a lot of people, and I just… yeah.”

“I know, it’s alright,” he smiled, pulling you in closer to him. He was warm, and you felt yourself leaning in to his side. He moved his arm, and you almost moved away from him, but instead he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer while you waited for the cab. He gave you a gentle smile, and you found yourself flushing under his attention. When the cab pulled up, he opened the door for you and ushered you in first, a hand gently staying on your back to remind you that you were safe, and that he was there. He got in, keeping you close, and he told the driver his address.

The drive was quiet and nice, staring at the city as it passed quietly. Your hand rested on the middle seat, and after a moment, you felt Wilbur’s hand gently rest on top of yours. Without turning your head, you turned your hand slowly, lacing your fingers together. He gently squeezed your hand, and you returned the gesture, a soft smile brushing onto your face.

Once the cab pulled up to Wilbur’s apartment building, Wilbur carefully got out of the car, never releasing your hand the entire process, even as you both walked upstairs. You were almost scared to speak, the entire environment felt delicate, like if you spoke, he’d pull his hand away and be added to the long list of betrayers in your life. You wanted to say something, to admit how he’s occupied a permanent home in your mind, but the cold air of the apartment lobby didn’t seem like the home for that conversation.

You took the elevator to the third floor, getting a bit closer to Wilbur and leaning your head against his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head ever so gently before the elevator arrived, and he walked you to his apartment. When you walked in, neither of you wanted to pull your hands away, so he gently moved you both to sit on the couch.

You looked up at him, and he met your gaze. You got lost in his eyes immediately, pretending you were actually his. Fuck, you liked him much more than you thought.

You didn’t want to speak up. You had to, because for once, it felt like maybe there was someone who liked you for you, and you couldn’t bear to get your hopes up only for it to fall through. But there was something your brain seemed more inclined to do first.

“Wilbur,” you started softly. Your faces were incredibly close now, and you could feel his breath against your face, “Can I kiss you?”

He nodded quickly, hand gently moving to rest on your cheek. He leaned in, and you met his lips, kissing him gently. Your hands went to rest on his shoulders, and his hand gently cupped the back of your head, not forcefully, just lightly threading his fingers into your hair. The kiss was gentle, yet full of passion and longing.

When you pulled away, your foreheads rested together for a few moments as you sat there quietly, processing how to speak up.

“I like you,” you spoke softly, “I- I know that’s probably obvious, but… even despite everything, you’ve stuck by me even though my reputation has literally never been worse, and I’ve been trying hard to seem composed and put together around you,” you started rambling as you continued, pulling away slightly so you were actually facing each other now, “but you’re on my mind a lot more than I should probably admit, and our friendship is already pretty delicate, so I’m honestly a bit terrified to have even brought this up, but I just really-”

“Hey,” Wilbur interrupted, chuckling softly, “take a breath. Relax. This is going better than your mind is probably telling you right now.”

You nodded softly, taking a breath slowly. “I just- I really like you. Is it cool that I said all that?”

He smiled softly, bringing a hand forward and brushing a strand behind your ear, “Yeah, it is. Because I really like you too. I don’t give a fuck what people say about you, honestly. I like you for you. You’re gorgeous, and smart, and you’re way funnier than you give yourself credit for.”

You flushed softly, taking his hand in yours once again as you thought for a moment, “Life is crazy, so, I know we can’t make any promises now or anything but… you know what you can make?”

He grinned, chuckled softly, “What is that?”

“You can make me a drink.”

He laughed, head falling back, before looking back at you with the most adoring eyes, “See. Funnier than you give yourself credit for.” He smiled and stood, kissing your forehead, “I’ll go get you that drink.”

You grinned back at him, and as you heard echoes of his footsteps, you relaxed and let out a breath, knowing that as delicate as everything is, you at least didn’t have to pretend he was yours anymore.

#mar's 200 follower event #mar writes #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x y/n #wilbur #wilbur soot fluff #mcyt fanfiction

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 4 months

Text

HELP I can't stop thinking about this fic: https://www.tumblr.com/mylevisdontfitanymore/689619340309446656?source=share and how maybe after Andy has had his fill and is finally done fucking Ransom he spends the rest of the night pumping him full of more alcohol and food and maybe he spends the entire rest of the cruise out of his mind as Andy's drunken plaything, too stuffed and bloated to move far from the bed without lots of help, too drunk to think about anything but his stomach and how much more of everything he wants and always available for Andy to fuck when he pleases

@achubbydumpling Ransom × Andy dark fic, "A Little Extra: Cruise Ship"

I mean… fucking SAME

I remember when Dumpling first wrote and posted that and we had a lengthy conversation about some darker scenarios for that pairing. So, this chaotic, horny drabble will be heavily inspired by that interaction. Thank you for the inspiration Dumpling, as always ❤️

Unbeta'd, warning for dark Ransom × Andy, intox kink, alcohol consumption, mentioned of past non-con/dub-con, free-use, stuffing, weight gain, humiliation/fat shaming, etc.

Andy can’t honestly be blamed for what he does because… have you seen Ransom? That soft, pale skin and pretty, pink mouth with an especially plump bottom lip; those big blue eyes, most often lit with a challenge and dare; his expensive clothes tailored to fit his body. He’s irresistible normally. But, better yet, have you seen Ransom when he’s drunk and messy? Anyone would do anything to have that rich brat when he’s sloshed.

Drunk Ransom and his fat, round belly full of all the alcohol he’s been downing like it’s water. Andy doesn’t even need to encourage him so much, his greedy nature from growing up in the high life does it for Andy. Ransom simply drains bottles and bottles without caring about anything, not the price of the smooth liquor or spectacle of his expanding waistline, his belly bloating right out of his luxurious, perfectly tailored clothes until he’s so full and round - his skin pulled so impressively taut - that he may as well be a walking keg or even a walking, really waddling, barrel. Almost audibly sloshing with too many drinks. It’s a fucking miracle if Andy lets him walk anywhere, though. His slight exhibitionism, his hunger to see the stares of disbelief at such a huge, sloshed brat, is overridden by the possessive fire inside him to keep Ransom.

He wants to keep Ransom full, bloated and packed to the point that he’s stuck on his back, and he wants to keep Ransom to himself. He wants him as a pet. An obedient pet that will do anything he wants, like, for example, drink another bottle and chase the alcohol with soft, pillowy carbs that will drink the liquid inside him and expand further. Andy wants to get him to the point that his stomach is really struggling, creaking and gurgling with how bloated it is.

Here’s the thing, though: Ransom may come off like a bitch and a brat to everyone after being spoiled his entire life but, he metaphorically (and now literally) has the softest underbelly that Andy who, oppositely, appears to be sweet and doting and soft once as the ideal family man but Andy has this very dark side, hidden from most people he encounters. It’s not hidden from Ransom. That dark side is lured out by Ransom. There’s just… something so irresistible about Ransom. Andy can’t stop himself from taking advantage of Ransom. It’s hardly his fault, though, with how much rich boy is asking for it - stumbling around, drinking, and fixing him with those fiery eyes.

Andy has a habit of only having a few drinks here and there, so he barely gets tipsy when he does drink, and this habit works to his advantage now, leaving him with a near completely clear, sober mind to admire this messy, uncoordinated prince… all doughy and spoiled. He’s never done a damn thing besides sit on his ass. (And, fuck yes, would you look at that! He’s got a fucking fat ass. All shapely. Nice and round and wide. Andy wants to sink his teeth into it.) Besides, Ransom’s rich fat. He takes the time to always work lotion into his skin and wax and get massages and, just, otherwise take immaculate care of himself. So, he doesn’t have any stretch marks anywhere on his body. He only has pale, soft, plump, and doughy fat. He’s lush. Smooth. So easy on the eyes and perfect underhand. No stretch marks anywhere on his soft body… not until he meets Andy.

Andy, as we know, can’t resist and he takes advantage of his pale, unmarred body and claims it for himself. Andy fucks him hard and leaves hickies on his puffy tits, thick thighs, and absolute shelf of an ass but, of course, those bitten-in marks don’t hold a candle to the permanent marks Andy makes on Ransom. Andy will have Ransom to himself. He will keep him. And he will claim what’s his by stuffing and bloating Ransom until he’s literally on the cusp of bursting. Funneling alcohol and liquor and spirts and anything that leaves his sweet mouth loose and slurring into him. Stuffing any kind of food down his throat, too. Watching ethusastically as it all stretches his skin so badly, leaving lengthy, obvious, red marks all over his previously spotless body and ruining his body.

Jesus.

Ruining his body. The thought of being the one to ruin Ransom makes Andy feral like nothing else. It feeds into his darkness, making him only want to stuff him worse and ruin him worse and… it goes on and on.

Ransom gets that way, ruined, by being kept as a little pet for Andy. It goes beyond the cruise. Andy snatches Ransom up and just won’t let him go.

At first, when Ransom surfaces from the night after Andy drugged him and used him when he was so full and sloshing he was fucking pissed at Andy. Seeing red. Seething and baring his teeth. But. Also… damn it, he gets it. Through his pounding headache, waking up entirely naked with his legs spread wide and slutty underneath the weight of his desperately full bladder and still bloated stomach, he comes to the conclusion that he knows that he would’ve done the same if presented with such an opportunity. A poor, little thing wandering the ship bloated and wanting to indulge so badly that they’re willing to go to dinner with a stranger, stuffing themselves, helpless as a baby deer under the drugs slipped into their system… Ransom licks his lips.

Yeah.

He’s equally fucked up.

C’mon, he’s rich - if he sees something he wants, he gets it. It’s that way with people, too, not just things. He could see how if he couldn’t charm or bribe his way into someone’s pants as usual, he might just get them drunk enough that they’re easy and pliable to have what he wants from them. It just so happens that when that was used on him, it unlocked his spoiled hedonism and he couldn’t stop pigging out. So…

He doesn’t blame Andy. He can’t stay mad, even if it feels like he’s pulled a fucking muscle with how big he got (and still is), puffed up tight and round on alcohol and sugar. Rich boy has never been sore before. He’s not familiar. He could be though. It’s achy and throbby and… he kind of likes how it feels. It feels like a job well done. He’s pushed himself so much that he’s made himself sore. Damn.

With Ransom not only not pissed but also into it, they develop A Thing.

Specifically, a relationship based on free use and indulgence.

Andy is the one in control and Ransom is the one giving himself over to be stuffed and fucked and filled. Anything Andy wants to do to him. Anyway Andy wants to fill him. Ransom aches and throbs for it, craving the fullness and heaviness now that he’s had it once - chasing the high.

So, Andy keeps Ransom drunk whenever he doesn’t need to be present in reality for his responsibilities. Which are… what exactly? Ransom doesn’t work, not thanks to that multigenerational wealth, so there are not many times he has to be sober for “responsibilities.” He has a whole fucking team of people managing everything about his life (his “babysitters” according to Andy’s mocking laughter), meaning more than anything else, he’s nice and full. Well. Usually, if he’s how Andy wants him he’s painfully full. Sloshy yet packed tight. His stomach made into a water balloon.

And that’s where most of those stretch marks come from.

Poor baby. He gets all marked up so fast! Aw. 🙄

As established, Ransom has lived the high life since he was born, he’s always been fed the best foods and drinks and hasn’t had to work a day in his life, so he’s always been soft. His slowing teenage metabolism has left him puffy. Not quite yet chubby, but certainly on his way with his problem controlling himself and his appetite for, well, everything. But then Andy comes crashing into his life and feeds him and feeds him and feeds him, and Ransom is growing fatter faster than he ever could’ve on his own. Faster than he ever would’ve dared. Ransom is pretty vain. He wanted to stay in shape and “presentable” but he can’t. He can’t help himself. And Andy sure as hell won’t help him. He’ll just pop the cork to another wine bottle and hand it over, making sure to lift the end of the bottle when Ransom tries to stop and catch his breath. He wants him to down the entire thing. Chug it. Now.

Despite all the alcohol that should give Ransom a solid, hard beer gut, Ransom continues to pack on butter-soft fat. Soft, plush fat that can be felt when he’s not drum-tight from impossibly high levels of fullness.

Andy doesn’t care about Ransom’s pleasure in their arrangement of free use. He only cares about his own. Just like that first night when they encountered each other. He’s focused on himself. Fucking Ransom’s pasty, doughy thighs, then his clenching, tight little hole. Dumping him onto the bed and having his way with him, completely unrestrained.

During bloating and/or stuffing sessions, the pained groans Ransom gives, the way he clutches at his expanding, tight gut desperately, or his attempts to jerk his head away from a new bottle or another spoonful of a rich, decadent dessert do nothing to stop Andy. He can complain and squirm as much as he wants but it’s not gonna change the fact that he’s only done when Andy is satisfied. He’s his pet and his toy. He’s Andy’s to play with and use and ruin however he wants. All the new stretch marks Ransom develops appear seemingly overnight and appear very early on in their arrangement. The marks are dark and intense, his poor skin is literally splitting open with the pressure of all that food and alcohol in his belly. He whines and tries hard to soothe them with lotion and ice and heating packs, but it does nothing. Andy doesn’t care until he does. When he does, it’s because he’s getting off on it. Getting off and splattering them with come.

New stretch marks along with the rapid explosion of buttery soft fat on Ransom’s frame are just more evidence of that little fact… this isn’t about Ransom’s pleasure; it’s about Andy’s.

Andy is shamelessly using him.

Actually, if anything, the stretch marks, groans, whimpers, and visible discomfort, even pain, when Ransom is being used especially roughly turn Andy on. Fuck, look how much control I have over Ransom. Look how willing my rich, bitchy boy toy is to eat for me. Drink for me. Look at how he can’t stop me. Ransom heels. He surrenders. He’s so fucking easy and pathetic and that’s why Andy had to have him that first night, drugging him to get it.

Pathetic and needy.

It’s so easy for Ransom to fall into that mindset of being used up. Ruined. Controlled. He enjoys being Andy’s pet and fuck toy so much. It starts against his will, yeah, but it’s also everything he’s ever wanted. It’s not about his pleasure but… also, it is. He’s being spoiled and taken care of and pampered. He’s nearly always blackout drunk but that’s just a little detail. It doesn’t matter that much, most people in high society have alcohol problems behind closed doors anyway! Andy isn’t doing anything totally terrible. He’s just getting Ransom where he was bound to end up anyway, speed-running the debauchery of being so grossly rich.

Sure, when Ransom is lucid enough to think (a true rarity), he tells himself that he doesn’t want the weight that comes with the indulgence but it has to stay because he can’t separate the two. But, that’s not how it really is. Rich boy is lying to himself. And that’s nothing new.

It’s a lie because he can’t help it when he’s sober, when he’s tipsy, when he’s drunk, when he’s high, anything, he grabs his belly, his thighs, his moobs, any part of his suddenly much fatter body he can reach. He grabs himself. He wants it. He wants to feel it. He wants to see his body jiggle and move as he jerks off or tries to pitifully bounce on Andy’s cock only to find it to be too much work, going back to just lying there with the room spinning, letting Andy do all the heavy lifting. It’s fine. It’s great! Even if he tells himself he “doesn’t like it,” he doesn’t like gaining weight, it doesn’t matter. Andy is forcing him into it. There’s no guilt. Just indulgence. Just pounds piling onto his overburdened frame.

And… with the acceptance that he can’t stop, he’s only going to grow bigger and bigger and bigger until (or if) Andy decides to stop, Ransom is completely, wholly a rich pet. He sits on his ass, never lifting a finger, only getting fatter and fatter. Being fed all day, rolling around and jerking himself off if and when Andy has to leave to go to work or get more groceries or… whatever it is that he still has to do himself because he can’t pay one of his countless personal assistants to do it for him as his pet can. Disgustingly rich and shameless, detached from the everyday person’s lifestyle.

However, their exploitative dynamic gets worse and worse better and better until Andy has Ransom trained to only orgasm when he’s being fed or bloated. It started with Ransom’s love of having anything in his mouth. He’s always enjoyed fingers in his mouth, or cock or pussy in his mouth during sex - coming faster when he has something to occupy his plush lips - but it’s transformed. Andy exploits his oral fixation, perverting it until no matter how much Ransom tries to jerk himself off under his overflowing belly or reaches around his wide blubber to finger himself until he’s shaking, sweating, and whining from the unprecedented hard work, he can’t reach his climax. He can’t come until he’s being fed or bloated. He needs something being forced down his throat! He goes without (a long time for him, a few hours, but a pathetically short amount of time for literally anyone else) until he can’t and he slurs through begging words. Please, please, please, I need sugar! I need carbs! I need fat! I need alcohol! I need to come!

Then…

Andy makes it worse.

He always does.

Worse and worse and worse. Using him. Ruining him.

Andy forces Ransom to go from needing something edible in his mouth to needing his gut to be full, too. He needs something in his mouth and he needs his belly full. He’s so used to constantly being drunk and pigged out that when he isn’t, instinctually, all he’s thinking about is food and alcohol. More. He wants more. He has to be comfortable at his baseline.

And his baseline has become warped to the “comfort” of being painfully full, so packed and tight that new stretch marks are on the way.

Then, and only then, bloated like a beached whale, can he come.

Pathetic.

Also - as if Ransom needs more, the greedy bitch - Andy loves to dress Ransom up in luxury clothes. Andy gets hard from putting him in everything from panties and corsets and stockings and heels to full, classic suits. Slacks. Belts. Waistcoats. Jackets. Always Andy uses Ransom’s money - extensively using the passcodes he gave him to get into his bottomless bank accounts - and then stuffs and bloats him until he bursts out of his brand-new clothes. Immediately ruined and in need of replacement. The expensive fabric is nothing but scraps once they’re done with it. Rips and tears from fat bulging through, buttons missing, popped off from all the pressure, ladders in stretched stockings caused by widening hips and thighs.

And Ransom loves it. Of course, he’s ended up growing out of all his clothes… again. He wants to do it more, too. Please. The greed is on a constant loop in his mind, only intensified when Andy is near, pleading, feed me, feed me, feed me. Feed me! Feed me!

Ransom’s only known indulgence and luxury his entire life. He’s the worst kind of glutton. Always has been.

So it’s really not surprising to anyone from his old life - rich family and stuck-up “friends” - that he’s blown up like a balloon, even if they all make nasty comments about his gain. Unafraid to shame him, mocking him to his face as well as behind his back. Asking him if he really needs to eat all of that when they lunch together. Raising eyebrows when each and every time they see Ransom, he’s in new, larger clothes. Telling him to hurry up when they stroll, and he waddles through the many rooms of a mansion estate or the garden outside, side by side. Pestering Ransom about going to see a doctor because the baby should’ve come a few months ago, shouldn’t it have? Or simply outright telling him that he’s too fat and it’s embarrassing - threatening to cut him off or write him out of wills if he doesn’t slim back down to their expectations. They have standards. They have reputations to uphold. They can’t be seen with such a slob.

A pig.

When they say those terrible things to Ransom’s face, Andy might be comforting... if he feels like it. But usually, he’s demeaning, too.

Ransom lives for it. He gets some shivery enjoyment from people from his own walk of life shaming him, but it’s nothing like the pleasure of having the man who corrupted him shame him and then keep fucking ruining him. It’s the finest kind of head-spinning depravity. Always with some new way to make fun of him…

“Of course, they said that, pet,” Andy drawls, his accent really coming through when he’s turned on. “Did you forget to look in the mirror before you left the house?” He grabs his face and squishes his chubby chin and cheeks, “speaking of… you’re about the size of a house these days,” he grins.

Ransom whimpers at the same time that his tummy growls - it’s far from empty, but, whenever someone talks about his weight, it just makes him hungry. Hungrier. He’s always hungry. You can’t stretch his stomach to the size that it is without a voracious appetite.

Or…

Andy snorts, “can’t blame them for asking who tailors you’re clothes, can you, Rans? No one in high-end fashion makes clothes the size of tents.” He pulls at the soft sweater he’s wearing, the knit thick and making him look even thicker and softer. “They expect their wealthy patrons to know better than regular, working, and middle-class people, pet. They know the rich will stay thinner because they’re vain. That, or, you know, get the fat sucked out of them, going all plastic.”

Ransom moans around the beer bottle between his lips, he doesn’t stop swallowing more of the malty, flavorful drink, though. He can’t stop. Andy is right. There’s so much about the high life that requires so much self-control. Ransom has never had self-control. He can’t. He can’t control himself. He needs more.

Or…

“Aw, pet, were they making fun of you again?”

Ransom nods, pouting.

Andy just sighs, happily satisfied, “telling you you better get your eating under control, hm?”

Again, he nods.

“Imagine that… anyone thinking you are the one in control. You’re just a sweet, brainless little pet. Well. Not little. Not anymore,” he chuckles, and Ransom pants, his gut too heavy on his lungs. “They don’t know I’m the one fattening you up,” he pinches his ass filthily until Ransom squeaks, “this is mine. I fucking built this ass. But they don’t know that, pet. And they don’t even question it. Isn’t that wonderful, piggy? You’re so greedy they don’t even think about foul play. They just assume it’s your nature and you got hugely fat all by yourself.”

Ransom feels hot, his head is spinning again, and his vision is blurry as if he’s been afflicted by a sudden fever. They’re only in the next room over, taking a breather before they go and mingle with more of Ransom’s family. Ransom doesn’t give a fuck about his family (he never really has), but he especially doesn’t give a fuck right now. Right now he wants Andy to feel up his belly and jerk him off. Now. He’s so fucking horny. It’s hard enough to be sober for so long, acutely aware of every pound of fat on him, how he jiggles and moves, without anything to numb him, but when he’s being teased about it, too? Meanly by his family and meanly 🥵 by his fucking owner and feeder?

Fuck.

He’s too fucking hornyyyy.

“You want out of those clothes tonight, pet?” Andy tugs at the straining fabric of his waistcoat, barely holding around his rotund middle, the buttons this close to pulling apart so much that gaps form, exposing his dress shirt underneath.

Ransom nods eagerly, completely breathless at the thought (not that that’s a hard thing to achieve when he’s so severely restricted).

Andy tips his head to the side, indicating a passing server with champagne flukes on their elegantly balanced tray from the corner he’s crowded Ransom into, “then you better start fucking drinking,” he gruffly whispers, lips to his ear.

Ransom moans. Thank God. He’s been miserable sipping on just water all night, trying to be on his best behavior when around others.

“If you pop a button by the time we leave, in front of everyone, then you won’t have to go to bed clothed and aching. If not…” Andy just smirks, “it’s not like you can come without being so fucking grossly stuffed that you burst out of your clothes anyway, so it won’t matter, will it, pig?”

Ransom goes up in flames.

Immediately, he flags down the help and empties the tray of flukes into his keg-belly before waddling back into the middle of the party, unashamedly taking two of everything being passed out by the help. Food and drinks. He has a mission. Make a pig of himself in front of everyone until he pops.

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #belly kink #text #stuffing #weight gain #tight clothes #button pop #alcohol consumption #intox kink #andy barber #ransom drysdale #andy barber x ransom drysdale #andy x ransom #chubby ransom #animal play #pet #pig

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understandableparadox · 3 months

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Bottom of the barrel isekai review #2

Today's title: I was reborn as his highness the prince’s little evil dragon.

The understanding of cringe is an abstraction of the same feelings of those in Salem dragging literate women to a lovely communal barbeque where they will be served. Is that an exaggeration? Yes, am I making a ham-fisted reference to a sci-fi short story? Also yes, very clever you are, go get yourself a cookie. I will wait.

Anyways that is to segway to the idea that sometimes our ability to consider a story bad is based on the ideas it presents. Sometimes these ideas are weird, that weirdness becomes correlated with the cultural idea of cringe.

Anyways that is a segway from a segway to talk about omegaverse. That is a concept that exists, where did it start? Im staring down a deep and scary rabbit hole that i'm simply not prepared to delve down into. So let's skip that and get into the basics. ABO or Alpha Beta Omega is a setting in which the genders are changed as thus: alphas are sexually and socially dominant, male and female may share the same genitalia for the concept of sex. Betas are either normal humans or hyper submissive socially and sexually, male and females usually share the same genitalia in this instance as well. In some fictions the omega may take the spot of the beta and the beta will become the average human within the setting. Beta and omegas emit a pheromone that can set people into estrus and attract alphas, alphas can bite the base of a beta or omegas neck to mark them as theirs.

That's the bare bones basics and also a segway of a segway from a segway into the story we are talking about today.

The titular title is a manhwa, if you are a rock dweller that's a korean manhwa. Don't let the country jump fool you, we are still dealing with the normal rules of an isekai so let's keep moving.

We start by examining the main character, shown to us to be the ubermensch of gamers. The true pinnacle of mankind, tall, strong, powerful, athletic, mewing like his god damn life depends on it to ensure that his jawline is capable of splitting atoms, causing mass destruction to the immediate area.

He gets shanked at a gaming event by im assuming a rival gamer who went insane and thought that he was irl stream sniping.

He bites the dust and awakens as the shell of an egg breaks around him, staring up into the soft eyes of the main romantic interest, the crown prince. Oh, he's a little dragon now and also still a 18-19 year old man stuck in the body of a lil baby dragon. The two cavort around jovially, well one acts in a jovial manner, the other is trying to figure out what the fuck is happening and why hes stuck on a leash instead of cranking sick 90s in fortnite.

They then remember what game they are in. The game is apparently a visual novel/rpg in which the crown prince raises a dragon that turns evil and he must slay it with the power of friendship and the god nuke spear he found in a cave. Cool, he decides to not be an evil dragon that gets hit with the god nuke spear. A wise choice.

We get some more exposition before the world decides to run a fucking truck into my head by haveing a possible pre-pubescent child introduce the idea that this is infact omega verse. The wicked step brother pops in shouting “omegas lives are easy”.

Which hit me with an absurd level of whiplash but ok, let's try to keep moving.

The story meanders around a bit more, we are introduced to the wicked step mother who is an alpha which yeah feminism, the queen pegs the king.

She does the wicked stepmother bit and leaves and we are treated to a few too many shots of this toddler-esque character cuddling up to this baby dragon which if I must drill into the soft gray matter hidden away within your domed ivories is a full grown man who plays video games for a living.

I am unfortunately well acquainted with the trope of Middle aged japanese business man in the body of a baby because god damn if freud did not hit a societal nerve, and I would never dream of being so crass as to say that this is equally creepy but I hope you can forgive me if I inch this close to the same rung.

Gamer god decides to start speed running the game, assuming that if he gets to a certain event within the game in which the main character helps a goddess and gets a wish, deciding to yoink that wish for himself and get back to begging markiplier to do a nude calendar with him, bro just a quick twelve picks, its for charity bro, come on, tasteful buns out for charity bro.

Anyways more meandering, quick break to have one more bed scene where gamer god in baby dragon form sniffs again this kids pheromones because hell is real and the only torture is the one we inflict upon the world with our thoughts and ideas.

They get the fuck out of the castle and go to the spooky woods where they meet the princes arranged fiancee, an alpha who is drawn as a full grown man.

Anyways he is utterly nothing to the story and serves to explain why they are able to beat the random cabal of cultists in the middle of the spooky woods who have the goddess trapped.

They free her, she hands out some random shit and then fucks off. The paladin, prince and dragon then decided to go on magical adventures for a bit where we learn that the dragon's gift turns him back into a facsimile of his human form which carries around the prince again. Cue badly drawn fight scene with with trolls, cue yet another mention of the princes pheromones because the author has decided that I need to be shot a few more times and let's be honest, im asking for it, tying myself up on the shooting range like i am, drawing an assortment of red dots on myself, beckoning any wayward bullet to find purchase in all the soft supple flesh they can burrow in.

More magical adventures and they find the magic sage, oops it's actually not the magic sage its the evil sage who after tricking our party tries to use mind control to seduce gamer god which leads me to believe that the author has some straight guy x gay guy fics in the same hard drive i believe should be turned into the police.

Prince goes ape shit and despite showing little magical affinity suddenly has the skills to summon the god damn grim reaper who saves the dragon. Gamer god passes out and in the meantime the real sage pops up and promises to teach the prince white magic and to train the dragon by chasing and fighting his familiar, a transforming rabbit.

This is how the dragon meets mushroom fujoshi who does a lore dump and scares everyone in my discord because we were not familiar with Korean and Chinese internet slang and how it gets translated, please see below.

It's not what it looks like, it means “Couple Pairings' '. Which yes, i know, holy shit why would they translate it like that???

Who the fuck knows. They explain how shits happens. They were the true creators of the world. After playing the game in its entirety, they decided the ending lacked luster so they decided to create an omegaverse fiction in which the prince and dragon Bone Expeditiously.

Now this either means that god themselves in all of their infinite wisdom and power was placed in their own schrodingers box. Either so enraptured with the true beauty of this fiction or infact so repulsed by its contents that they decided to trap multiple innocent souls along with the stories creator to force it to play out to its logical possibly bloody end.

She also states that the prince must kill the dragon if they wish to escape, but also how the fuck do you know that? Anyways she fucks off.

We now reach the time skip, where thank the fucking gods everyone is now drawn like a fucking adult and its not only slightly werid when they sniff at each other.

And nothing happens for ten chapters as these two twinks run around each other playing grab ass until the last three chapters where they introduce the concept of a marriage party, as the paladin broke up.

Two affronts to decent racial design and orientalism pop up to create a bit more plot, they send the dragon off to be able to be human without a trinket and that's the end of it.

Is the story anything to write home about? Not entirely. It's very standard BL fair with twinkish men cavorting about and an absurd amount of flowers being drawn around them. The story is very much interested in the slow burn yet sporadically intense budding romance between gamer god and the prince. It seems scared to interact with its own premise of omega verse, only gently playing into the themes or using the fantasy sexism of alphas vs omegas to create shoehorned drama between certain characters or to create societal roadblocks for the character that teach about an inch high. If I must surmise my criticism, it's not cringe enough for me.

What about art? Its standard, most manhwa you will read will be expertly to competently drawn. The art is serviceable to the story itself, though i will note that the author is fucking deathly allergic to anything that resembles the color brown or drawing anything aside from eurocentric pretty boys that look like they belong onto a old german propaganda poster.

"Is the underlying story, barring any other concept, good?"

It is decent, it's fine. It's a standard romance fair, if you are diving into this for something hot, spicy, something you would be loath to be caught reading then my apologies, this is not it.

"on a sliding scale of min to max, how much is the author using this to explore fetish"

Low. The author clearly has some fetishes but they only somewhat clash into the main story. Mostly through gamer god pretending he's straight to the author can have the multitude of gay men attempt to coerce him into something “taboo”.

"How many story crutches does the author use to explore the story"

I think the story avoids the vast majority of major crutches, though it does rely heavily on the video game trope which allows the dragon to suddenly push the game into a random direction due to knowing how to skip a part of the level or knowing where certain in-game items relevant to the plot are hidden.

"Is the author attempting to use the story as a way to explain why he is not weird."

The author is not saying anything, but interestingly I believe they are attempting to pass themselves as being weirder than they actually are. Do with that as you will.

Do I recommend this? Read on your own time, dont feel bad if you dont wanna read it.

#isekai #omegaverse #fantasy #shitty isekai #manga review

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samuskitchen · 2 years

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bottom of the deep blue. (1)

⇒ mermaid!suna x siren!reader

summary : sirens, creatures of unmatched beauty and cunning charm, they lure men in with their voices and grace, taking advantage of all the gullible fishermen and pirates. mermaids, the peacekeepers of the deep blue sea, naive and kind to a fault at times. a fated encounter between the two underwater dwellers leads to a difficult situation and a love that shouldn’t be.

warnings : mean!suna, mentions of blood, mentions of death, mentions of ptsd, lovesick hopeless romantic reader :,) , naive reader, suna says something that’s kind of racist to sirens

genre : mermaid au, pirate au, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, betrayal

a/n : CAPTAIN YUJI IS MY DEAREST TERUSHIMAAA, except he’s like anti siren :,( other than that i’m excited for the series to progress, theres one chapter that i am so excited to write and post, it’s literally why i started this series 😼 IF YOU ENJOYED PLS LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS, REBLOGS OR MY ASK BOX AND THE TAG LIST IS STILL OPEN!!

w/c : 3k

an ocean, calm and steady, a clear sky and a sun that shines a million sparkling patterns onto the waters below it. a ship lays on the calm sea drifting slowly with minimal effort, it’s not a big ship, surely not impressive enough for other pirates to respect them, but it was able to hold a small crew of men. barnacles and algae littered the bottom of the ship, stuck to the wooden structure stubbornly.

the captain holds an intricately detailed golden spyglass to his left eye, scouring the horizon for any sign of a safe haven, a place to dock and collect themselves after being on the open sea for days.

he sighs, a king and heavy one that leaves his men dropping their shoulders and kicking their feet. another bust, because of course the hastily drawn map wouldn’t hold any merit. he stuffs both the map and spyglass into his coat's deep pockets, gripping the wheel tightly in both hands as he moves to turn the ship left.

some of the crew continue regulating the deck. most of the men, though there weren’t many of them, opted to fiddle with a barrel or drink their boredom away with the beer left out from their small feasts. however, this was exactly what they had signed up for when joining captain yuji’s ship. they knew their captain was a spontaneous man, one without a plan and too much excitement to just live, that he’d willingly dive head first into danger if it meant he’d get a minute of adrenaline from it.

yuji continues guiding the ship, making turns every so often expecting to see something, anything. he taps the ship's wheel impatiently, his foot mimicking the taps of his fingers and his eyes narrowing on the horizon.

finally, his eyes catch sight of land with a tunnel of sorts, and a spot of green through it. he shouts for his men to prepare as they near the tunnel knowing there wouldn’t be any real danger of not fitting through for their somewhat small ship.

the ship approaches the edge of the tunnel, yuji lets out excited hums, his foot now tapping along merrily as he bobs up and down with excitement. “get ready men, i have a feeling this will be worth it!”

they enter the tunnel.

after a few minutes the ship is slowly pushed out of the tunnel by a steady current, the ship rocks side to side gently by the winds in the shade of the cave. the boat is silent, not a single sign of life.

except for a wide eyed, heaving, traumatised yuji terushima who lay flat on the ships helm, a hand pressed to his chest as he released short and quick gasps, lip wobbling and eyes staring up at the sky which slowly reappears again.

the screams of his men ring in his ears like that of a cannon firing, it’s loud and it’s irritating and it won’t leave him alone. it makes him grip his hair and groan, he wants it to stop. he needs it to stop.

he sobs a loud cry, one that leaves his chest aching as he presses his palms against his ears. he can’t stand the sound of their screams, their begging, their cries for help as the sound of struggling in water and splashing continues. he thinks he despises the sound of thrashing against water now, but he knows he despises sirens most. he’s certain of it.

and as he lay on his cursed boat, alone and drifting pitifully on the quiet ocean waves, he knew he had a new goal as captain.

he’d never lose another man to those wicked sirens, ever again.

“yn? you did not eat as much today, what is wrong?” the eldest siren moves closer to the youngest, hand caressing her cheek with a worried look adorning her beautiful face.

“it’s nothing, sister… i’ve just not had an appetite lately!” you give a strained grin as you pulled back from her touch, gently pushing her wrist away. “well, i hope you guys enjoy the rest but i’ll be off, don’t wait up on me!” you rushed off in a hurry, grateful that the tides were on your side for once and pushed you towards your little sanctuary away from your role in the underwater world.

entering your dry cave you eyed the opening of the pool carefully, trying to see if you could spot a blurry figure sitting cockily on your ledge again. however, the coast seemed clear and you were relieved to finally have a moment alone again.

you pushed past the water, pulling yourself up and sitting on the ledge hurriedly. it had been so long since you could come back, every day you’d be forced to wait with your older sisters as unsuspecting men drifted into the dark tunnels with their boats, the ships being the only thing to make it out of the tunnels in the end.

you move to lay yourself flat against the ledge. back flat on the surface with your eyes staring up intently at the twinkling crystals. your own little stars. a cosmos away from the pressures and expectations of your society. no one to force you to be a monster, no one for you to harm. just you and your own little world.

a grimace makes its way onto your face, you hear the echoes of their screams in your mind and you begin shifting uncomfortably. you didn’t think you’d ever get used to their pleas and cries for mercy.

sirens were never merciful.

you clear your throat, shaking your head as if to get rid of the thoughts and sounds plaguing your entire being. trying to get yourself to think of something else, anything else, begging silently for something to help distract you.

and like a blessing or maybe a curse, you hear it. a ripple, the currents moving and pushing against something. someone? a head breaks through the surface, the culprit's hair lays flat against his eyes though he doesn’t need eyes to know you’re lying on your ledge.

“hey pearl, miss me?”

of course it was him.

“what do you want rintarou, i thought we had already established this was my spot. why are you here?”

“mmm, if i remember correctly i said i’d be back, did i not?” he pushes the hair out of his face, slicking it back until he was certain it wouldn’t fall back down and block his vision, the muscles in his arms and chest flexed with his movements, it makes you gulp and divert your eyes, a heat spreading in your belly that makes you blame it on the screaming man you had tried to digest a few moments ago.

“what’s wrong, pretty? you don’t look very happy.” you still refuse to look at him but you know he’s smirking, it seeps into his tone.

“leave me alone, rintarou.”

“i’ll leave if you tell me your name,” his sly smile returned again, sharp eyes enticing you to answer him, as though he was the siren manipulating you into fulfilling his wishes. “or i could just stay here and keep you company, i know how much you adore my presence.”

he cackles at the glare you give him, manoeuvring himself to float on his back, hands resting on his chest and his eyes glancing over at you every few seconds. he definitely wasn’t going to leave…

“you’re such a nuisance, are you sure you’re a mermaid? i think you’d fit the siren life much better.” you grumble.

“did you just indirectly call sirens annoying? and here i thought you loved your job, what, the fishermen aren’t satiating your insatiable thirst for blood?” his tone was light, he was teasing you, but you still felt a pit forming within you, a guilt consuming you from the inside out.

at your lack of response he looked back at you, noticing your doleful gaze trained on the pool below. he hums, a small smile growing on his face. he swims closer to your ledge, his piercing eyes still trained on your deflated form which was in a more upright position than before. he rests his forearms on the ledge and his head on his forearms, gaze still focused on you.

“did i perhaps… say something wrong?”

you cleared your throat, shaking your head quickly. “no it’s fine, you’re right! but uh, it’s getting late i’m sure so i really must head back, my sisters are probably worried by now.” you push yourself off the ledge, diving back into the pools water and rushing off without waiting for another response from the intriguing yet beautiful merman.

you’re sure he’ll be there again.

“ah, there she is! i was starting to think you’d never come back, pearl.” you’re greeted by the same teasing tone as all the other times. of course rintarou was waiting for you in your special cave.

“i think it’s time i find a new cave.” you mutter under your breath, ignoring the large grin rintarou sends you as you pull back from your beloved ledge.

“what’s wrong with sharing?”

“i don’t want to share with you.”

“what’s wrong with me!?”

you can’t hold back your amusement at his defensive behaviour, glad to finally see a side of him that isn’t his usual cocky attitude. he huffs at your giggles but he lets a smile grace his face at the sound of them, he’d never seen you smile before. now he understood why you were a siren, he’d truly never heard a more beautiful and melodic sound before.

the two of you stayed in a comfortable silence, letting the cool water lap at your skin as it gently shifted, the caves air felt nice on your exposed skin and the luminescent jewels added to the scenery, you came to realise you preferred rintarou when he wasn’t speaking.

“so, pearl,” you groaned at the sound of his voice, throwing your head back in annoyance. “am i ever going to learn your name?” he pressed.

“why is it so important to you? it’s the only thing you’ve consistently asked for since we’ve met.”

he snorts, “well i’d like to know the name of my new friend, unless you want me to keep calling you pearl?”

“we aren’t friends, and i don’t want you to think you’re more important than you really are, we’re merely acquaintances.” you tried to keep your voice steady.

his face dropped if only slightly, he purses his lips and looks at you somewhat dejectedly. “yeah, okay.” the new silence that settles over the two of you is much less comfortable than the first time, you couldn’t help but feel guilty at the way he looked now. his eyes were downcast and he’d let his tail tap against the ledge gently almost as if he’s in dire need of an escape from this situation.

“is there a reason you don’t want to befriend me?” his voice was quiet, small, he looked as though he was embarrassed to be even asking such a silly question. you sighed, fingers lightly tapping the water, a nervous habit you picked up after your first kill.

“you stole my cave…”

your head snapped up to look at him at the sound of his scoff, he glares down at your form which is still submerged in the cool water of the pool. he pulls himself back up into a seated position, hands tightly gripping the ledge as he stares you down.

“are you kidding me?” he looks at you in disbelief, almost as though he’s challenging you to prove him wrong, he takes your silence and guilt ridden face as an answer. “you’re not even going to give me a chance, just because i found your stupid cave? if you want it so bad then keep it, i don’t know why i tried so hard with your kind anyways.” he pushes himself off the ledge this time, his eyes stayed locked on yours, the look in them was intense and angered, he was beyond upset, and you didn’t understand why.

sirens and mermaids weren’t meant to get along anyways, he’d lose nothing by leaving you and your favoured cave alone. but you’d lose the only non siren companion you’ve ever had in your young life, maybe you could share your cave, it’s not as if sirens were greedy, they’d share the blood and flesh of them they were feasting on with each other, your sisters always made sure everyone was fed and full by the end of a hunt even when they had less than the others.

so maybe you could share with rintarou. the pretty, cocky, sly mermaid who got on your nerves so easily.

“my name is yn…” you let your eyes focus on something else, not able to withstand the pressure of his eye contact anymore.

he let out a breathy laugh, pulling back a bit, “that wasn’t so hard was it, yn?”

you felt your insides flare at the sound of his voice calling your name. sirens may have alluring voices that entice and seduce men, but it would never match that of a mermaids call, so soft and gentle.

“no, i guess not.” you smiled softly, still not having the courage to look back at him. “i’d like to try being friends with you, if that’s okay?” you look up only for a second, too nervous to hold his beaming gaze as he smiled brightly.

“of course it’s okay, yn.”

over the next few weeks your sisters continued to hunt the foolish pirates and fishermen who dared to cut through the tunnel, you were forced to participate in every hunt and after you all finished eating you’d retreat back to your cave where you’d find rintarou waiting patiently for you. some days you’d break through the surface of the pool and find him playing with a fallen jewel, other days you’d find him impatiently tapping his tail against the ledge.

the two of you continue this little routine, building up your unconventional friendship more and more through the weeks. sometimes you’d bring him a pocket watch or a spyglass dropped by the men, or you’d bring back a piece of jewellery they had been wearing that would suit rintarou. the two of you began exchanging gifts, what rintarou found above land on the shores whether it be a washed up bottle or a coin, he’d bring to you and what you found would be given to him. it was sweet.

your sisters, however, began to notice your ever growing collection of items found above land, they’d tinker with the glass bottles curiously or examine the gold coins you stashed away. they would ask where it came from and your only response would be ‘from a friend.’ you couldn’t bring yourself to tell them about rintarou even if you really wanted to, you couldn’t risk them forcing you to cut him off or have them hunt him the next time you need to feast.

you resorted to calling him your ‘friend’ and though that wasn’t enough to fulfill their curiosity overall, it would be enough for now. every night you’d tell your sisters about the adventures rintarou went on, how he’d been able to see the lives of mortals above the surface of the deep blue sea and how they’d interact with one another. you told your sisters about the types of food found in the place called a market, and how the coins you collected were used as valuables to trade. every piece of information rintarou fed you about the world above the water was regurgitated to your sisters who listened to you intently. your eldest sister played with your hair and watched in amusement as you explained every detail with bright eyes, while your other sisters got ready to sleep, using your stories to lull themselves to sleep.

you were so envious of rintarou, sitting beside him and gripping his hands when he’d mention something that had your curiosity bubbling over, he’d smile at your reactions and continue, what you assume is, over exaggerating his stories adding details you were sure didn’t happen or meeting people you just couldn’t fathom existing. he’d talk about the food he’d tasted and the drinks he’d drunk, his distaste for beer and how wonderful coconut water was. you pleaded with him, begging him to take you the next time he goes and all you were met with was a hum and a pat on the head. he waved you off with a “maybe, but then i’d have to be responsible for anything that happened to you.”

“that’s not fair! rin please i promise nothing bad’s gonna happen.” you pouted at him, hands gripping his bare shoulders tightly, shaking him as you continued your pleads.

“rin?” he smirked.

“rintarou, is that the only thing you got from what i said?l

he sighed, pushing your hands off of his shoulders, the smirk still present on his face. “if i knew you’d be begging to spend so much time with me i would’ve told you these stories sooner.”

it was your turn to shove him away, a small huff following your actions, putting a small distance between the two of you on the small ledge, you turned away from him but you couldn’t help the small flutter that filled your chest. you cursed at your foolish heart for betraying you so easily.

rintarou gripped your chin, turning your head to face him again, letting his hand rest on your jaw as he stared down at your deflated form in amusement. “don’t pout so much, i promise i’ll take you someday. maybe not the next time i go though, we still need to get you some human clothes.” he gestured down to your current state.

“really!? you’ll take me? is that a promise?”

he holds out his pinky, just like he told you the humans did to signify an unbreakable deal.

“i pinky promise”.

taglist: @lomlsuna @akaashiwife @plixy @on-crows-wings @1-800-s1ya @sabztov @keiji-in-a-can @tamak00

#🌀. botdb #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna x reader #suna x y/n #haikyuu fluff #hq imagines #suna fluff #haikyuu angst #suna angst #suna rintaro imagines #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintarou angst

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arcplaysgames · 1 year

Text

So as far as beach episodes go: P4G > P3P > P5R

this one was a snoozefest, so let's touch on the important bits that stand out and then talk about Beige Boy and Solid Snake.

One, I have fully turned against Ryuji on the basis of his frequent and repeated disregard for Morgana as a part of the team and frankly as a full person. I am getting really teed the fuck off because for the last five hours or so of gametime, I have been watching Mona get more and more anxious about his place and about whether anyone on the team cares about him and his journey to the heart of Mementos

and at every fucking opportunity, Ryuji basically reinforces to Morgana yeah, you're not really one of the guys, you're not really part of the team, you're the mascot.

If I had agency in the world of this game, I would take Ryuji aside for a Fucking Discussion about this, because the fuse is lit and I am certain we are headed for a rift between Morgana and the team,a nd you know what? I'm on Morgana's side. He should be pissed, he should be hurt, because I'm hurt on his behalf just watching this unfold.

Fucking Ryuji, you are the bottom barrel of the Token Best Friends. Yosuke would never do me like this*. And if Junpei were here, he'd be Morgana's BFF, are you kidding.

(* in fact yosuke did the Literal Opposite and adopted the 'mascot character' lmao fuck you ryuji)

Yusuke is the fucking load-bearing column holding this game up, i swear to god. I have never understood the Moronsexual joke until right now. I imagine Reverie is like "I have to marry him, he'd be fucking hopeless without me???? it's just the right thing to DO"

Alas, Atlus hates me.

Futaba trying to grab the lobsters while Yusuke holds them out of her reach is the best rigging and animation this game has given us thus far.

Futaba picks her name, Oracle. And she is explicitly here to learn more about her mother's research, less to save people. Which is respectable and she's very up front about it.

THAT'S THE BEACH TRIP. like this one just was..... ugh. it had the weird queerphobic stuff again and it pulled the "the boys try to pull girls and fail" gag again but this time with ZERO charm at all. I remember that scene in P4G with Kanji, Yosuke, and Reverie was one of my favorites because it was genuinely really funny. This had nothing.

SIGH. WHATEVER. LET'S TALK ABOUT MORE INTERESTING STUFF.

blah blah blah evil evil evil blah blah blah

i have at this point accepted that Persona just sucks at foreshadowing the Big Bad of their games and P3 was a fluke. interested to see how P2 does when I eventually play it.

oh shit this game caught some of the Sony Hot Sad Dads disease, huh? Iwai has a dweeby looking son named Kaoru and he's ex-yakuza.

Do I like Iwai or do i just miss MGS2 Solid Snake? Who could say.

Also his shop theme tune fucks severely, it sounds like SMT4.

Anyway, after that we're having very domestic funtime at the cafe when

oh shit Beige Alert

Futaba immediately hides behind Reverie because she got Vibe Radar. Vibedar, if you will.

I feel like when Akechi enters your vicinity, your phone should get one of those emergency PSAs. Like when a tornado touches down in your county.

Okay so. /points. Eyes closed.

/points.

The fuck is happening here. Like, bruh, you showed up and immediately mentioned the lady who threatened Sojiro's custody of his daughter, and now you are looking like a wounded puppy because it turned the atmosphere frosty.

You did that, homeboy, that was you. I know you are astute enough to know that.

He sadly drinks his coffee and reveals his backstory: he was raised by a single mom who died soon after, then got stuck in the foster care system for a while.

THAT FAKEASS SMILE AGAIN. See, this is why I know he stirred up the hostile energy on his arrival on purpose, he is extremely good at tone and social cues, enough so that he can use or not use them to his advantage.

I would tell Reverie to install a deadbolt on his door but he doesn't have a door lmao this is going to be great

I keep saying this but: Bryan Fuller vibes. My god, Bryan Fuller vibes.

Futaba realizes she missed the fireworks festival so she runs out to get some small fireworks, and Morgana goes with her to make sure she's okay.

Morgana is the fucking best. He really gives a shit and puts himself out there for people and I just want him to be appreciated dammit!

This is Reverie's family now, yep. See that gurl? She is his sister. See that old man? That's his dad. Yep!

Also Sojiro doesn't even know Morgana is a person and treats him better than Ryuji.

yeah this is me going full kill bill sirens on Ryuji, sorry. i will slam dunk him into a fucking dumpster, i'm so angry with him for his MANY MANY fuck ups and, specifically, how he doesn't seem to learn or grow from any of them.

I think that's my beef with him. Like, P3P, Junpei did multiple big fuck ups, but he both apologized explicitly for them and also learned from them and became a better person for it. He was my ultimate ride or die. I romanced Akihiko but my true love was my broship with Junpei.

Yosuke also fucked up a lot and even went full Joker Mode once, but he also experienced one of the longest arcs of character growth in the game. I remember when I started to like him after being tepid on him for the first third of the game and how annoyed I was that he was growing as a person!!!! But he wound up being a fave.

I need Ryuji to get his shit together and start growing tf up bc I am real sick of his self-important bullshit and how he steps on Morgana's feelings. I am hoping whatever the upcoming blow-up with Morgana is leads him to wake tf up, but also I'm not holding my breath.

At least I have Ann and Yusuke.

#p5 #persona liveblog

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pupcuck · 6 months

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HIII omg I love ur writing, I just read waste me and it was so good ong like ??? literally me. NEED MORE FEMCEL READER I love her she’s such a loser omg she’s so me :33. She def listens to creep by radiohead and weezer. Especially bc Leon is already a loser too like what if reader was much more of one?? ITS SUCH A GOOD CONCEPT. Like I can imagine him thinking he’s soo fucked up or some shit and then in comes in reader, he’s just like oh. maybe not.

Like mhm I love dumb and cutesy reader but I need a fucking loser that wastes away in their room and is fucked in the head, that type of reader that loves like a dog no matter what, always coming back for more no matter how much they get beaten or ignored. Dog coded but in a sad way!!! Like yeah she’s awkward and whatever but I feel like she would self sabotage and lash out like a provoked mutt when its tail gets stepped on.

LIKE omg I could go on a whole rant and write a fucking essay on how femcel reader is SO GOOOD esp with Leon but i’d just be rambling LMAO.

I feel like Leon is so used to talking to optimistic and like generally sane (LMAO) people. Like, imagining him talking to someone that’s just one big fucking sad loser??? im sold. I think it would be funny if he just got so concerned and weirded out to the point that he’s like “what the fuck is wrong with you are you okay” like no I need you to live and breathe :33

gonna put this under read more cuz it’s long :3

the line between femcel and potential narcissistic abuser is so thin so leon better watch out. dog coded but also has the potential to freak out on him if pushed far enough, esp if he takes her for granted, like yes she’s lonely and she’d like to be feeling wanted but not by someone’s that’s just taking her as a joke!!

like omg yes she is a fucking loser that will take bottom barrel anything but she has some sort of standards once she’s in the relationship, and she’s probably obsessive over him almost, hyper aware of how he’s reacting to her I think he would probably assume that she’s just a stupid lovesick puppy but it’s like so much more than that 😭

AND YES leon is a loser and he’s so depressed and he’s also stuck in that cycle of self-loathing and I know the healing in death island was super quick and they could’ve fleshed it out so much more bc healing is a struggle but capcom hate character development.

but like leon has the potential to heal as he’s surrounded by people who have experienced things similar to him, people like chris and rebecca who want him to be happy, who actually consider him a friend and if he’s faced with someone that has basically no one,,but him that’ll be so strange to him.

like idk someone that’s so beaten down, that’s never been told anything other than their own insecurities, that relies on him to kind of make them feel happy?

i think it’s both simultaneously so much pressure but also a sort of rush for Leon? his mood and his words dictating how someone feels is so new to him like he has to walk on eggshells around someone but they also cling onto whatever he says it’s so mindfuck to him and he would probably come out of it damaged too 😭

#inbox 💌#🫀.waste me

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megan0013 · 1 year

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Missing scene request for fallout: Nomura's promise to protect the baby

um, hi, hello

this prompt has been sitting in my inbox for, uh, over a year? but i finally did it!

fallout

filling the gaps

There’s a light on in the kitchen.

Barbara frowns as she pulls into the driveway and, after turning off the car’s ignition, swivels around to stare at the offending illumination. She’s almost positive there were no lights on when she left for her appointment that afternoon and, while it’s possible, she finds it highly unlikely that Jim would have stopped by before heading off to Trollmarket.

Should she go in? Or call for reinforcement just in case?

But if the intruder really is someone who truly wants to do her harm, why would they turn on the light and lose the element of surprise?

It’s probably Toby, anyway. Or Claire. Maybe even Nancy, since the three of them have been taking turns keeping her company whenever Jim’s off trollhunting and her own small circle of friends aren’t able to pop by for a visit.

Or maybe it is an axe murderer. She could honestly care less anymore, and trudges into the kitchen a minute later to find a certain museum curator rifling through her very bare pantry.

“Hey, doc.” Nomura says as Barbara places the plastic bags she’s carrying down on the counter. “You didn’t happen to grab something for dinner, did you? All you have is milk and cereal. Which is surprising since Little Gynt is so obsessed with cooking. I really thought you’d be properly stocked.”

“What do you want, Nomura?” Barbara asks, head tilting as her hands rise to rest on her hips. She’s tired and still feeling particularly upset over the local grocery store’s lack of mint chocolate chip ice cream, and the magenta changeling is at the very bottom of the list of things she feels like dealing with right now. Along with bowls. Because she’s definitely about to eat this poor imitation of her favorite dessert (peppermint bark, really?) straight from the carton.

“Your baby.”

A thin, red brow arches. “Excuse me?”

“That didn’t come out right,” Nomura says in a flat, derisive tone. She holds up her index finger and tries again, “What I meant to say is, I want to protect your baby.”

“My baby?” The doctor shifts her weight to one side. “How do you even know I’m pregnant?”

“I read your mail. And,” Nomura jerks her thumb toward a grainy photo stuck to the refrigerator, “there’s a sonogram with your name on it.”

Okay, fine.

“It literally says Baby Lake-Strickler on the top corner.”

A muscle in Barbara’s jaw ticks.

“Look. I know you can take care of yourself. You’re not defenseless. I get that,” Nomura barrels on before her audience has the chance to lose what little patience she has left. “But what about next week? Or six months from now when you’re the size of a house? Let me help you. Please.”

“Right.” Barbara sighs and reaches up to rub the bridge of her nose, knocking her glasses askew in the process. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude but - “

“He was my brother.”

There’s a hitch to her voice, one that’s desperate enough to draw Barbara’s attention to how haggard she appears now. Thinner, too. Like she hasn’t known a moment’s peace in weeks. And the persistent shadow of anguish that seems to have settled in her green eyes, well... Barbara can certainly empathize with her, can’t she?

“He was my brother,” Nomura repeats slowly. She swallows. “And if Draal gets to pledge his life to protecting one of Stricklander’s children, I get to do it with this one.”

#meg answers #(finally)#stricklake #fallout fic #ah yes it's been a minute #i apologize for the wait

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eddaschild · 6 months

Text

The Chase is on! || @bymargrace

He could hear occasional footsteps as he skidded about the corner running out of the room and into the Hideaway itself. Where to hide? Where to hide?! If this ended up like their last game of Hide and Seek where poor Joshua ended up locked in the infirmary... Well, Rylan just needed to find a better hiding place out in the open this time if it turned into that so the game could continue for a long time if the other was up for it.

Darting into a large barrel that was turned on its side, Rylan glanced behind his shoulder with a sigh. The coast seemed clear for now which means that the game was going in his favor that is until he felt it tipping upward leaving the little boy at the literal bottom of the barrel. In seconds, he was in darkness. What just happened? How long was he out here for? There was no way it was time to go to bed! Unless Joshua was much slower than he initially thought. Even though he stood on his tip-toes the top of the barrel was out of his reach.

A sudden movement caused Rylan to jerk forward as the shipping barrel was loaded onto a bulkbreak cargo hold. By the time things settled down, he was already loaded onto a ship's deck that was planning on sailing within the next two hours. What was he going to do?! He was stuck, yet he needed to be quiet to win the game. The tiniest of words were said hoping that he wouldn't be overheard for the game to stop. "Help."

#[v: hideaway orphan (au)]#bymargrace #// thank you! ^^

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craacked-splatters · 2 years

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DHMIS has been rotating in my head these past days like a microwave and I'm going mad. What if the traffic trio are just what they are: puppets. Like I KNOW they are but what if its more than just at the physical sense? All this time the hints of a possible backstory i was gathering was for the trio. But what if isn't? Puppets are used to tell a lesson or teach things to kids in a way they might understand like sesame street. You know what else? Stories. They can be used to tell stories too. What if the trio are bieng forced to play out this story that belongs to someone else? All these hints of life from before doesn't even belong to them. Might explain why they don't understand their surroundings or know each other or get confused when something breaks these dumb loops. They're not allowed to do anything different bcuz they're just puppets. They're not supposed to have these feelings or thoughts or dreams they're just supposed to act out the story given to them bcuz they're literally just tools. Maybe that's why dhmis lore wise is so confusing too. This show is so jam packed with lore it amazing. (at least I think so) They're so many things, so many hints and clues to SOMETHING. There's clearly something here, a backstory? A tragic life lesson? A limbo? Idk. All these pieces are so scattered and hidden so deep inside all these metaphors and symbolism creating this massive collage of chaos. Maybe what the viewers, us,bare seeing is the pov of the trio in all of it. Everything is so confusing and fucked up bcuz they don't understand or know anything about this story. They don't know anything. They're just acting it out. For who? Idk the lady in the attic? Maybe. A lot of y'all think she's in charge but she herself was in the doll house. Like the clothes she was wearing and the stitches in her face? Hello? There was also more stairs leading up above beyond the attic. Meaning there's MORE. She's just been in the attic rewinding the others below her. She has control but she isn't the main brain orchestrating everything. There's something above her. Something with more power. These puppets are at the bottom of the barrel. They have no power. If it turns out this true I'm gonna cry. These 3 really have nothing but each other. They're not allowed to have anything for themselves. They are tools. They were made to be used. They are stuck. They have no control, and everytime they try to break free from the script they just keep going back to the start. They fight and scream and maim bcuz all they have is each other. All these frustrations and buried trauma blowing out like this? I mean it's not like they get therapy. But don't u see? Despite it all they still stick together. Even if they get on each others nerves, fight, or seem indifferent they still try to be together.

Examples:

In the job and family episodes, Duck tries to snap some sense into the other two saying they should just leave and go home. He wants all of them to leave together. In the transportation episode Red drags the others along with him on the trip when he could've just gone alone. He was desperate but he wanted Duck and Yellow to come along too. He even states that they could keep in touch when they get separate homes. In the Death episode yellow was so upset at the thought of never seeing duck ever again. He didn't want this blob replacing him. He only wanted it to be the three of them. Even Red shapes the blob into duck. Like c'mon. I haven't seen an instance where they flat out ditch each other.

At the end of everything all they have is themselves. That's so fucking sad. God these puppets r making me crumble. I need to sit down.

#dhmis #dhmis spoilers #splatter rambles #*head in hands*#TRAFFIC TRIO IM HOLDING UR FERAL ASSES SO GENTLY IN MY HANDS RN #i love this show #it scratches my brain #i might even go so far as saying it dismembers #them <33

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thalia-amongst-the-thorns · 2 years

Text

Whumptober No. 3 - Gun to Temple, “Say goodbye”

Late, but better than nothing! Today we have the start of the second ongoing tale set in a world of superheroes and teen angst.

We begin with a super fight on a school night...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It said something about Mrs. McCloud’s excruciating extended essays that Ed still preferred being at the center of a supervillain jailbreak to being at his computer forcing himself to crank out meaningless paragraphs safely back home.

Honestly, Nobody’s warning that Fear was planning something at the Moldoff Penitentiary had been a welcome interruption. And with Beacon currently off planet fighting alternate universe doppelgangers in space or disassembling Brainwave’s orbital satellite that radiated cosmic brainwashing rays or whatever (maybe Brainwave had summoned Beacon’s alternate universe doppelgangers so she could brainwash them to take over the world for her? Eh, if he cared enough about it he could ask Warp to explain it again later), Nature had put out an all hands on deck text for the team to assemble on a school night and keep an eye on the suped up penitentiary. Who was Ed to put his education above the safety of the tri-state area, perhaps even the free world?

Mind you, it’d still been a bit of a surprise when something had actually happened, Moldoff’s power cutting out around midnight just before the red emergency lights kicked in and sirens blared and Nature was signaling them all to move in to help the overwhelmed prison guards. Nobody tended to get… obsessively paranoid about anything that even marginally hinted at being connected to Fear. Not that Ed could blame her. Fear had more than proven she was capable of the kind of villainous behavior that needed someone to track her down and kick the ever loving crap out of her. Ed just didn’t didn’t want to do it personally.

No, it was much better to be tangling with a cyborg who currently had him in a headlock. Maybe he should have stuck to the essay writing after all.

“You doing okay over there, Pillar,” Solar Flare called out from where they’d posted up behind a toppled security desk, popping up to shoot off a few plasma bolts before ducking back down for cover. Bodies swarmed everywhere, a mixture of their team and the scattered guards trying to contain the tide of villains forcing their way through the bottleneck at the penitentiary’s main doors.

Ed shook his head, throat currently preoccupied, while his opponent let out a surprised guffaw underscored by the screech of metal on metal from his rusty jaws.

“‘Pillar’? Shit, really scraping the bottom of the barrel there, aren’t yah? Or did the capes crowd finally move on from alterative aliases while I was locked up to just naming themselves after literal random crap?”

“Hey, it’s a good name!” Solar Flare rose to Ed’s defense as he flailed ineffectually, their skin shining a defiant red underneath their white and yellow costume. “I picked out that name and it’s freaking fantastic and you’re going to regret saying otherwise when Pillar kicks your butt right back into its cell!”

The cyborg merely laughed harder, jostling Ed as his flesh and wire laced arm squeezed tighter around Ed’s throat.

“Isn’t that cute, you gotta have a cheer squad to hype up how powerless you are, eh Pillar?”

A dull flush washed over Ed’s cheeks. Thank god the stupid orange visor covered up most of his face.

He’d been trying to put Nature and Animal’s lessons into practice, all that patience and thinking before you rush in with no plan shtick, but what this guy really needed was a swift smackdown. Especially if he was going to keep mouthing off.

Ed screwed up his face, reaching deep down for the current of power humming at his core. There was the usual level of push back that happened when he tried to make the switch mid-fight, his body instinctually wanting to stay invulnerable to protect itself, but Ed had enough experience now to power through the resistance and direct that current of strength to flow into his muscles instead. Instantly his neck was crushed with the pain he could now feel from the cyborg’s vice-like grip and Ed gave a panicked and embarrassing squeak as his lungs suddenly realized they needed air again.

“Waiting for that butt kicking any time now kid,” the cyborg cackled, and Ed gritted his teeth against the heat creeping up his whole face.

Clapping one hand over the cyborg’s, Ed pulled back as easily as he would the lid of a tin can and there was an agonized squeal of metal giving way. The man gave a very satisfying yelp of surprise as Ed easily broke out of his grip and proceeded to throw a super strong jab to his jaw followed by a snap kick to his guts. Ed pulled back on the hits just a smidge, both because he didn’t know how much the cyborg could take before his head literally got knocked off his shoulders and because without his invulnerability Ed would end up shattering his own hand if he put that much power into a hit. As it was he could feel his knuckles bruising on impact, his toe popping painfully as the kick set the cyborg flying back ten feet into a wall where he left a man sized crater in the concrete as he slid to the floor.

“Nice!” Solar Flare whooped, skin changing from annoyed red to amused yellow. “Consider your butt officially kicked, mean metal man!”

They flashed Ed a quick glowing thumbs up before they turned back to blast a woman with a lizard head before she could bite into Red Pulse, and Ed was thankful they hadn’t noticed the flush continuing to burn through his cheeks.

“Playing possum?” The cyborg had pulled himself up off the floor, an ugly welt forming across what skin remained on his face. With a whir his dislocated jaw snapped into place and he gave Pillar an impressed leer. “Guess the next generation of supers is down for playing dirty. What an improvement.”

With inhuman speed he launched himself at Ed, cracking him across the face with one meaty fist that had Ed’s ears ringing. It hurt, his body screaming, disoriented, unable to process what had happened. Ed wasn’t used to being hit, to feeling pain, the blow probably wasn’t even that bad he was just weak.

The cyborg pulled back for another punch and Ed latched onto his wrist with first one hand, then snagged his second wrist with the other, easily holding the other man in place. His human eye bulged in panic, mechanical one whizzing erratically in its socket, and Ed grinned.

Fuck being weak.

“I was going to offer to let you go back and make yourself cozy in your cell,” Ed said, trying to come off as coolly blase and not desperate for a one liner, “but it looks like you’re just really dead set on an ass whooping.”

“Dead set is right, kid.” The voice was feminine, so close that Ed could feel her hot breath on the back of his neck. There was a click right in his ear, the sound of a chamber settling in a revolver. “But I intend to make things a bit more permanent than an ‘ass whooping’.”

A low, mocking chuckle rumbled in the cyborg’s chest, both eyes focusing on the new challenger right behind Ed’s shoulder, and he pushed back against Ed’s grip with renewed vigor, about the same strength as a charging rhinoceros. Child’s play for Ed to overpower if he weren’t being distracted by the cold barrel of a gun being pressed into his not invulnerable and very shootable head.

“Fear warned us about you, bean pole. Told us to get our shots in right quick if you started throwing your weight around and getting handsy with people.” A woman draped in a maroon overcoat and matching honest to God chaps and cowboy hat sauntered into Ed’s line of sight, in stark contrast to the prison uniforms the other supervillains were wearing. Shit, when had Fear started teaming up?

The gun tip slid around Ed’s cowl in tandem with the woman, and awkward as the angle was Ed could just make out a mess of wires and blinking acid green lights, like someone had put an old fashioned revolver in a blender with a laser pistol. A trail of cold sweat slid down Ed’s spine.

“But if a game’s what you’re after,” the woman drawled as the gun hummed sharply, “then let’s see what gets to you faster; my hex shot or Stoic Sentinel’s fist.”

Stoic Sentinel grinned, muscles flexing, and Ed couldn’t stop the terror that seized his body, squeezing his heart until he was sure it would explode. His eyes darted around, cowardly, for help, but more bodies had flooded in between him and Solar Flare, blocking their line of sight. Something orange flashed in the distance, but Ed wasn’t sure if it was Warp or some freaking D-list villain with radioactive citrus powers.

“Say goodbye, white hat,” the woman hissed, and there was no time to think as her finger pulled the trigger.

In a panic Ed let go of his hold on his internal current of power. Immediately the energy snapped back into its preferred shape, a stretched rubber band released, and Ed was sent flying back, no longer strong enough to hold Stoic Sentinel back as the cyborg surged forward and plowed both of them into the gunslinger. The woman yelled in surprise as her shot went wide and all three of them powered through the surrounding crowd before Sentinel lost steam and they collapsed in a heap on the floor amidst stomping feet and stray plasma bolts.

#whumptober2022 #no.3 #gun to temple #say goodbye #fic #oc #ed #sasha #my writing #b listers #everyone has superpowers and angst #you really realize how silly super alias are when you have to write them like five times in a row #but its okay ed hates it too #superheroes

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