#( a well kept treasure || saved. )

[dunmesh]

this panel from the world guide of falin being surrounded by other girls while laios is all alone kills me because. that's it. that's the key difference in their journeys.

as laios states himself, he left the village in order to create a home for him and falin elsewhere. a home that won't collapse due to others' hatred and fears like their old home did, a home where they are loved and accepted unconditionally. but as he soon found out, even before earning money, or having walls surrounding him and a roof above his head- what he so earnestly desired was to meet other people who will accept him for who he is as well. instead, he kept being tormented by those around him, shunned and sneered at. his loneliness quickly became all-consuming until he truly had nothing left except for the monsters in the pages of his book, but even that became a target of mockery and destroyed. that's why ever since the day he left the village, he never felt that he truly made the right choice. so he kept running away: unable to resist and unable to accpet.

and an ocean away from him there was his sister, who never managed to fully fit in herself. but unlike him, she met a person who became a home to her and learned what a true friendship was for the first time in her life. and laios clearly realizes that too when he finally sees falin and marcille together, he can tell his sister obtained the greatest treasure there is on her own- the exact thing he never managed to find anywhere himself, thus coming back empty-handed to the sister he left the village for.

but when you read this part of the manga, laios's focus is on falin's loneliness, not his own. he talks about how it hurts thinking about all those moments she had to spend alone because he wasn't there for her, so it almost sounds like he's the one who couldn't bear her suffering and therefore decided to not let her go again. but we do get a glimpse of their first meeting after that almost-decade long separation in the manga, and then we see more of that in the world guide and daydream hour- and it becomes abundantly clear that it was falin who was trying to protect and save him from this pit of loneliness and depression he was in.

so instead of just doing his best to atone for leaving her behind in the village and making sure she is never lonely again, it might also be that laios was desperately clinging to the one person in the world he felt that accepted and loved him unconditionally. those words he used to describe his motivation to stay by falin's side are the exact words she would've used as well; she couldn't bear leaving him behind in this state. in a sense, they were each other's shackles.

but then she did. she died for him and their friends, and ironically enough, it was by leaving him alone like this that he was finally able to stand on his own and put his full trust in others. to have the courage to reveal who he is and give others the opportunity to accept him after such a long time of hiding. it was a long journey, but his hiding finally came to an end when he faced the others after shedding his monster form. and i love that the person who was falin's "home" all those years away from laios, marcille, became just as meaningful to him during their time separated from falin- the first one to find him and show him that he isn't alone anymore. just as he did for her.

so at the end of the story when falin talks about all the places she would like to go, it's not just that she wants to pursue her own dreams- but that she actually feels free to do so and go anywhere she desires. and one of the main reasons for that is that her brother finally found new people he wants to be with; his own home.

[hyhkai]

choi beomgyu — surprise!

[ 🥞 ] where beomgyu, your dumb puppy boyfriend is down whenever you are.

cw : face sitting + riding (?), they were watching one piece, sub!gyu, slapping/smacking, dirty talk, cum. let me know if there's anything I should add because I'm bad at cw's <3

a/n ; not proofread and tumblr didn't save my first draft. i hate life. inspired from a porn video I need to detox my brain and go on an exaggeration of a long walk and fade into the dusk.

eyes focused on the screen as episode 367 played on the tv, nami forcing the chipmunk zombies to tell her where the real treasure is as your eyes got drawn over to beomgyu, sitting on the edge of the bed as he looked down at his phone, scratching his neck and ruffling his hair.

there's only one explanation as to why your eyes are off the anime. he's so fucking sexy.

shifting in the bed, thighs pressed close against one another as your attention kept being off the show and how you wanted to have his perfect too perfect of a face between your legs.

contemplating what to do about your sudden arousal, your mind wandered off to the night of not watching episode 86, and him climbing into the couch with you and muttering with the most horny tone, "if you're down, I'm down. if you're done, I'm done."

oh well.

you sat up, hands playing with the hem of your shirt as you contemplated whether to do this or not.

fuck it.

he's a loser for you, and he's down all the time to the point where he's growing back into his era of teen hormones.

it wasn't long before your top was off your shoulders, and you'd made the headboard into a buttress for your back as you took your pajamas off, eyeing beomgyus back as he played some game.

you were so eager to get bare, yearning to have his mouth all over your thighs. in fact, it was very obvious the moment you entered just how much of a dumb puppy he is when his expression was filled with the fact that he wanted to push you onto the couch, pull your pants down to see the wet patch on your panty that's so obviously there. <3

it's almost laughable that you're bare and your one hell of a horny boyfriend doesn't even know. you huff, a grin plastered as you crawled towards him, causing the bed to jitter.

he was about to turn and look what you're up to, but was soon vehemently shoved into the mattress as you pulled him down, climbing onto his face and holding his hands.

oh he's grinning isn't he.

"oh fuck baby." he mumbled coherently enough as his face was pulled to your clothed pussy like opposites of a magnet. he only made the wet stain in your panties worse, and did so until your clit was traced into the cotton. god really made a sin when he created your boyfriend.

it's almost a crime because he's too too too pretty for his own good. he placed his hands over your thighs and wrapped it around, palming your ass. "lift your hips for me, baby." he mumbled into your pussy. it was whiny, causing you to almost fold and want to do a sixty-nine with him.

you bucked up your hips, and his finger slid your panties to the side as he tilted his head, and his lips latched onto your clit. "h-hah. g-good boy."

he moaned into your pussy, his dick was already pressed up against his pants, his hips bucking into the air and only getting sliding friction; not static. he shook his face, nose bucking up into your cunt, causing your eyes to close shut and lips flatten into a line of pure satisfaction.

his fingers were lurking around your hole, not pressing in but just enough for you to push yourself down onto his body. you let out a moan before you could stop yourself, his tongue swirling around your mess and two fingers right that were contemplating on whether to give you what you want.

"now that's a wet pussy." he mumbled, eyes downward as he stared at your arousal. "h- just fuck me." you mumbled as your fingers scrunched his tshirts fabric between them.

he let go at the tap of your fingers on his forearm, you getting up to turn around— and what a fucking view you got. dumb, dumb beomgyu, laying there as the mute tv's changing lights made his face glisten with your pussy. nothing to be bothered about, he likes it when his face his smothered all up in his favourite girl's pussy.

you gripped on his hair, and your knuckles almost went white when his tongue met your clit. it wasn't fair, his eyes so doe when he looks up at you, his tongue so mean when he eats you out.

"sweet." he kissed your pussy, and thank god you weren't at your apartment, these lewd noises could end up in a discussion with your neighbours. his breath hitting your core, tongue swirling, and yet he tells you he doesn't know how to eat pussy.

"h-hah, beomgyu, you're sure you don't know how to d-do this..?"

"take what I offer, baby." as he licked your nub.

he said something into your pussy that came out so incoherent it was just a vibrating sensation to you. you thought you were almost lost in the moment. almost? you were lost. other hand now on his forehead as you bounced and rubbed yourself all over his face. "y-yeah. take it, boy. fuck. h-hah.." you slapped his forehead to which all he did was laugh at your assumption of how he's the pathetic one, when it's complete antithesis.

his situation wasn't going to be any better than yours anymore when his hips were already thrusting into air whilst he ran out of oxygen. did any of you two care? absolutely not.

starting to get closer and closer, you were already going at it on his face, grinding on his nose and mouth while mumbling all sorts of curse words when he slurped all of you; like the dumb puppy he is.

"h- beom— beom, close. okay?" you said under your breath as his hands were starting to grip his own cock from above his slacks, rubbing himself but not completely, not wholly enough for his own orgasm. and why rub one out when you will be doing it later on anyway?

"on my face, ugh, pleasepleaseplease." he groaned when you did just that, cumming hard. hands pressed into the mattress above his head as you rub yourself sideways onto the homogeneous mixture of your fluids and his spit and saliva as he licked it all up, whatever came near his mouth, he swallowed. "filthy boy, i- ha, hah..." and one good, harsh pat on his head as you grasped his locks again, looking down as you got up.

you laughed at the sight; pretty, shiny beomgyu. literally. a sight that only you and the associates who deny your entry into heaven witness. who cares, he's so pretty.

"good boy." you mumbled as you used his shoulders as support when you plopped down onto the bed.

he opened his eyes, eyelashes fluttering to reveal his pretty iris's. "kiss?"

I could write an entire post on why this is bad. I was bored. i apologize for taking your time. ok actually I have absolutely no idea what came into me when I wrote this but I wrote it so hahahahah my bad I'll delete it and disappear.

[quizzicalwriter]

dally winston x virgin!reader who asks her boyfriend dally to be her first time

Sweet Thing

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Intimacy, intimacy, intimacy.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Kissing, touching, fingering. Inexperienced and slightly innocent reader. Loss of virginity.

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 2.8k (I got carried away.)

You’d always been Dallas’s favorite preoccupation, distracting him from everything else in life. The sweet thing he carted around whenever he hung around with the boys or found himself in the drunken den that was Buck’s on a Saturday night. You’d be there, propped on his lap with his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

Not that you didn’t have anything to say besides sitting there, hell, the guys loved you. You could hold your own when it came to their wit and it made you a worthy companion for Dallas in their eyes, not to mention your inexplicable ability to put up with his shit when nobody else had before - or seemingly nobody else had been given the chance.

Normally Dallas would’ve gone for girls at the drive-in, greaser girls, or any woman he could get his hands on or who could handle his banter for longer than a minute without giving him the back of their hand. You weren’t one of them, and frankly, that terrified Dallas. There was a part of him that wanted to pull away, push you away in hopes that he’d save himself the pain of heartbreak later on he’d convinced himself he’d suffer. But he always stopped himself whenever you found yourself in his arms, gazing up at him with your doe-like eyes.

It was a difficult thing, Dallas being intimate. He was born and raised in a constant battle for survival, not showing love or producing it, but you made it easy. The longer you two had been together the longer he found himself wanting to keep you close, protect you from dangers he seemed to see everywhere. The worries you once had about him leaving eventually faded, the look in his eyes as he gazed at you whenever you laid in his arms far outweighed any ill thoughts you’d suffered with.

The only way you could describe it was ardent, laced with a deep desire that you’d never seen before in his brown eyes. A deep desire that would show itself in the bounds of the night after the two of you had disappeared together, culminating in you on his lap in his bed, hips rocking together as he kissed along your throat and down onto your chest. Or with your legs wrapped loosely around his hips, him grinding into you, you whispering sweet moans into his mouth spurring him on to do more, touch you more, please you more.

Dallas never pushed, he was always understanding whenever you pulled away. Of course, he’d have to adjust himself in his jeans, but he’d quickly pull you to his chest and press delicate kisses along your face, murmuring how much you mean to him, something he didn’t dare do in front of others. That side of Dallas was for you, nobody else, so you treasured it whenever he showed it.

On one particular Saturday night in the midst of autumn, you found yourself propped up against Dallas’s side on one of the couches in Buck’s bar, legs bent up at your chest as you fiddled with frayed denim at the end of your pant leg. Dallas was in a debate with a random man, someone he seemed to know well enough to bullshit with, talking about how the two had snagged something good off a rich man’s car not too long ago.

If it hadn’t been for the incessant country music Buck played when it rounded two in the morning you’d likely have fallen asleep against Dallas, but the occasional jump of a new song kept you jerking awake, a tired pout situating itself on your features as you rested your cheek against Dallas’s shoulder.

“Looks like your miss is real tired.” The man stated, taking a long puff from his cigar before gesturing toward you with the end of it, a snicker following his words as he propped himself up against the end of his pool cue. Dallas quirked a brow, looking down at you where you were tucked into his side with a hidden smile.

“Guess she is.” He murmured, not saying anything more beyond that before moving to prop himself up straighter, hand smoothing down your back as he looked down at you. “Tired?”

You weren’t tired, tired. More so bored, the constant scent of smoke and alcohol wasn’t helping the boredom or the budding headache in the back of your skull. But knowing if you said anything other than ‘yes’ at that moment would result in another hour downstairs, you nodded, feigning a yawn as you let your eyes flutter deceptively.

Dallas caught on, but he didn’t say anything. Instead choosing to click his tongue against his teeth as he played along, shrugging as he moved to stand. “I’ll see you later, man.” He stated, causing the older man to shrug himself before dispersing off into the crowd. Dallas turned to you, helping you to your feet before leading you up the stairs.

“Lyin’ is a sin, y’know that right?” He chuckled out, quiet enough for only you to hear as he nudged open his bedroom door with the toe of his shoe, causing you to laugh yourself and avert your gaze from his as you moved into the familiar room.

“Didn’t lie.” You mumbled out, another pout crossing your lips as you kicked off your shoes, making your way to his bed. “Real tired, Dally.”

“Sure, doll.” He snickered from the corner of the room as you made yourself comfortable on the bed, the familiar metallic clang of his belt hitting the wooden floor echoing throughout the room soon after.

He moved beside you then, letting out a sigh as he wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling your back flush with his chest. The sound of country music and clattering pool balls still echoed from downstairs, but the only thing you could bring yourself to focus on was the feeling of Dallas’s knee between your legs.

It was an innocent move, both of you slept with your legs intertwined, it felt comfortable given how small his bed was. As he shifted to get more comfortable his knee pressed harder against your clothed cunt, causing your cheeks to flush red as you choked back a whine. Dallas stiffened, breath catching in his throat as he took a moment to gauge your reaction before moving his knee again.

“Dal-“ You whined, hand moving down in between your legs as you buried your face into the pillow you two shared, his scent lingering heavily on the fabric doing nothing to quell the growing ache between your legs.

“What, doll? Feel good?” He whispered, words ghosting across the nape of your neck, causing your back to arch involuntarily as you slowly nodded. His hand smoothed down your front, bumping over the fabric of your shirt and jeans as he slowly moved to cup your sex, ever so gently applying pressure as he rocked himself against you.

You felt yourself soaking your underwear with arousal the longer he rutted against you, his fingers pressing against your cunt through your jeans as he did. A familiar sensation bloomed in your lower stomach, one that left you clenching your thighs around his palm as you tried to quell the growing ache.

“Gotta tell me what you want.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, trailing a litany of open-mouthed kisses along the curvature of your throat, pressure from his fingers increasing against your cunt. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Fuck, Dallas, just fuck me.” You whined, embarrassment over the prospect of voicing your needs soon being overweighed by the sheer need you felt for him, your hand moved to grasp at his forearm as you begged. “Please, Dal.”

That seemed to be all he needed as he moved to sit up on his knees, pressing another kiss to your jaw before pulling his shirt up and over his head. You laid there, lips parted as you watched him undress, feeling your blush spread from your cheeks to the top of your chest. You wanted to touch him, feel him, kiss him - so you did. You moved to sit up, folding your legs underneath yourself as you moved to press a kiss to his lips, hands moving to cup his jaw, only pulling away when you felt that familiar pull to touch him elsewhere.

You’d seen him without a shirt, but you’d never truly been able to admire him until now. Your hands wavered over his body, fingertips dipping in between the rivets of his toned skin, along healed scars, a faint bruise that still lingered under the left side of his ribcage. Above it all you found yourself fascinated with the way his chest rose with each breath and the small freckles that lined his skin. They reminded you of the ones he’d gotten from his time in the sun that plastered themselves against his cheekbones and upper shoulders.

Dallas let you look, eyes fluttering whenever your hands would drift farther south than before. You could hear him taking in shuddering breaths, chest catching every few minutes as though he were teetering on the edge of self-control. He raised his hands then, looking to you for approval before he lifted your shirt up and over your head, bundling the soft fabric in his hands before letting it fall to the floor.

You reached your hands behind yourself, unclasping your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders until your bra collapsed into your lap, exposing your breasts to him. Dallas had seen women before, he’d seen plenty, but none of them had ever had the effect you currently had on him. He felt his throat dry, brown eyes flickering between your chest and your eyes before he moved to gently lay you back against his bed, situating himself over top of you.

“You want this?” His words were hushed as his hand drifted down over your bare stomach, slowly unbuttoning your jeans as he kept his gaze locked on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort or worry. When you responded with a nod and a quiet, “I want this.” He smiled, a soft laugh leaving him as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

You’d envisioned losing your virginity hundreds of times, a perfect encapsulation of what sex had to be painted in your mind, vivid and blaring. But this was so different, the way Dallas was so gentle, not afraid to laugh if something awkward happened, both of you sharing the pure moment of intimacy with smiles on your face. Nothing could’ve ever prepared you for it and that somehow made it all so much better.

As he slid your jeans off your legs he smiled up at you, a soft look on his face as he tossed the denim to the floor, moving back up to place another languid kiss to your lips. His hand moved between your thighs, fingers splaying against your cunt through your underwear, a groan passing his lips when he felt just how wet you’d become.

“Dallas, please-“ You begged, thighs trembling as he continued to tease you through your underwear. He relented, placing a gentle kiss to your jaw before moving to sit back up, slowly sliding your underwear down and off your body before discarding them to the floor as well.

“So beautiful.” He murmured, eyes wandering over your form laid in front of him, hands smoothing up and down your sides as he took it all in. “So fuckin’ beautiful, doll.”

You watched with bated breath as he slipped his jeans off, kicking his boxers off along with them. His length was bigger than you’d anticipated, only having felt the shape of it when you’d ground down against him during your frequent make-out sessions. As if sensing your apprehension he moved back over you, hand moving to cup your cheek as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“It won’t hurt, alright? We’ll take it slow, real slow.” He whispered, voice soothing as he helped you to wrap your legs around his hips, your heels subtly digging into the flesh of his lower back. He smiled down at you, eyes voicing a silent question if you were alright to which you quickly nodded back, a smile upon your face as well.

He braced himself on his arm, face close to yours as he slid a hand down between you, helping to guide himself inside before sliding his fingers up to slowly circle your clit. A moan left you at the feeling, leaving you clenching around his tip, the feeling causing him to bite back a grunt as he slowly began pushing in.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groaned out, brows screwing together as he pushed himself to the hilt inside of your welcoming cunt, pausing in his movements to give you a chance to grow used to the feeling. “Doin’ so good, baby, so good.”

You’d heard horror stories from your friends, tales of how their first time had been painful and rushed, but this felt the complete opposite. While it took you a moment to grow used to the feeling of him inside of you, it was an incredibly welcome feeling. You could feel yourself clenching down around him, his fingers circling your clit only adding to the feeling building in your stomach.

“Dal- Dal, move.” You whispered out, voice hoarse as you grasped at his shoulders, desperate for him to move. He snickered at your pleading tone, slowly pulling himself out before pushing back in, slowly and deeply fucking you as he whispered words of praise into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses against your damp skin whenever he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of your warmth surrounding him.

You could hear your wetness coating his cock with each thrust of his hips, his fingers slick against your clit. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, broken-off moans, and whispered words. Your thighs tightened against him as he adjusted himself, lifting himself a bit, unknowingly brushing against a spot within you that you’d never known existed - one that pulled a drawn-out moan from your chest.

“Yeah?” He asked through a smirk, hand moving down to cup your hip as he pushed back into you, hitting that very same spot. You could hardly think, let alone breathe as he fucked himself into you, fingers working at your clit as he angled himself to hit that spot over, and over. “Taking me so good, doll.” He grunted out, grip tightening on your hip as he picked up his pace.

Your hand shot down to his wrist as he continued toying with your clit, eyes fluttering shut as you felt your orgasm building to its peak in your lower stomach, the feeling causing you to rock your hips in tandem with his thrusts. The look on your face was enough to make him groan, his hand moving from your hip to your jaw as he tilted your face to look at him.

“Look at me when you cum on my cock, baby.” He murmured, voice soft yet authoritative as he slammed into you. As soon as you opened your eyes he moved his hand, pressing it against your lower stomach as he continued fucking himself into you. It felt as though he were pushing you down onto him, that spot that nearly blinded you with pleasure constantly being rutted against by his cock.

All you could muster was a weak, “F-fuck,” as you came undone, back arching off the bed as you whined out his name. He didn’t stop, stifling a groan at the way you writhed beneath him as he felt his orgasm building. Once you started swatting at his fingers that still circled your clit he moved his hand, choosing to grab the other side of your hip, effectively propping you up against him as he fucked you.

The pace was near brutal, moans forced from your body as your breasts bounced with each thrust. You couldn’t focus, still reeling from your last orgasm as he continued fucking you into oversensitivity-fueled bliss. You could feel his thumbs pressing into your hipbones, short curses slipping past his lips.

“Gonna cum, baby.” He grunted, pulling out of you a second later, spilling his cum across your lower stomach. His chest heaved, cheeks flushed red as he pumped himself through his orgasm. You could only watch in a haze of your own, still catching your breath as he looked up at you, that familiar crooked smile taking over his features as he moved on top of you once more.

“Did so good, doll. Real good.” He murmured against your cheek, pressing a kiss to your skin between each sentence. “You feel alright? Need me to get you something?” He asked after a moment, a hint of concern evident in his tone that made you smile as you shook your head.

“It felt perfect, Dal. I’m alright.” You whispered back, turning over onto your side to face him, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek, leaning up after to press a kiss to his waiting lips. “Perfect.”

A/N: Thank you for reading if you made it this far, or even if you just skimmed it over - either way I appreciate the interactions! As always you can find my work over on my ao3 under the user “Unscriptural.” Thank you anon for the request! (Sorry for the late posting, or early? Wherever you are? I finished editing it and didn’t want to queue it, so here is your daily scheduled reading material.)

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n: 2.3k - boothill finds you digging around in junk and then offers you a gift he hopes you won't refuse... [plsdontflopplsdontflopplsdont-]

the heavy metal clinking of boothill's foot steps clank their way to your shop's door. an all too familiar door he'd always find himself going up to whenever he was in need of repair- big or small. the swiveling security camera you keep at your entrance blinks with red-lit life and moves to start following his movements as soon as he enters it's field of vision.

who knows if you're ever actually paying attention to the camera feed or not though. you can be careless like that. sometimes you're just out- couldn't be bothered or could care less about the remote feed linked directly to your phone. other times, you're so focused on some project you neglect it entirely.

based on the sign hanging on your shop's door he was familiar with- it seemed that this time in particular you were out.

boothill didn't need to know how to write- much less read well- to take a wild gander as to where you had wondered off to. putting his spring loaded and metal jointed hands on his slim waist, his chin dips with an amused chuckle and shake of his head. the cowboy lifts the toe of his mechanical boot and twists his body fully 'round; his spurs scrapping across the ground during his lazy about-face. with one foot in front of the other and thumbs hooked through the hollow crops of his trousers, the galaxy ranger makes his way towards the junk yard.

it would never occur to the standard person to spend their free time digging around a scrap yard filled with junk thrown out for a reason- but you were anything but standard. if you weren't tinkering around in your shop or finishing up a repair or commission, you were scrounging around the grounds for material or 'hidden treasure'... which was key for just slightly more valuable junk.

a typical haul for you would be a few pieces of scrap metal you could use for wielding, the rare unstripped screw or loose gaggle of bolts, and all sorts of wire. if it saved you a few credits by finding material instead of buying them, you weren't one to argue with free trash.

passing under the wire-metal gate leading into the fenced-off territory, his thumbs still tucked into his pant legs, his ears stay sharp. listening for any sound of you digging around in some heap while his head swivels back and forth to try and catch a glimpse of you.

"ey, sugar, you around!" boothill shouts, one of his hands detaching from his hips to cup around his mouth. he wanders further in, gets more ground, before calling out the same sentence a second time. shaking his head in bewilderment on how far in you had gone digging, he goes even further still and tries calling out a third time.

"here!" you finally answer back. your voice echoes around him, bouncing off the scrap metal and spooking the rats and other critters that call the junk yard home. his head turns in the direction of your voice, the way his body leans towards it before his feet start carrying him that way never took notice in his own mind.

eventually, he makes it to you. squat down to the ground, under the rusty remains of some poor saps long eroded escape pod from whatever solar system they crashed in from. he crosses his arms, then his ankles, leaning his metal shoulder on the ruined dome you were digging under.

the ranger had no idea how long you had been out here, but judging by the half full bag you kept on your shoulder and the grease sticking to your neck and exposed skin he could guess it's been a bit. he chuckles when you dig out a rusted, broken pipe of... something, before tossing it over your shoulder with a disappointed click of your tongue and looking up at him. your cheeks had some gunk on it too, probably from you wiping the back of your gloves on it.

"fancy diggin' around in junk?"

"it's not all junk."

"the fudge it aint," he scoffs. to him, it absolutely was all junk. "this aint called the dang junk yard for nothin, sugar."

"it's a scrap yard."

"stubborn-bottom." you move to stand up, clapping your gloved hands together before taking them off so you could use your hands more freely. "good to see ya took my advice and startin' wearing some forkin' gloves around here." he eyes around at all the rust and sharp metal. "gonna get tetanus or somethin', and we can't have that."

"im liable to get tetanus from you before anything else," you joke so straight-faced it didn't feel like a joke. his crossed arms drop along with his jaw and his stance straightens as he uncrosses his ankles.

"ey', i aint as forkin' filthy as you pretend i am, and you know it." you shrug with a half smirk that was so dismissive he was tempted to keep arguing. you push the goggles you were wearing over your eyes to avoid getting anything in them and possible irritation onto your forehead. seeing the contrast between your sweaty, grease and dirt marked skin and the clean skin that was protected under the goggles had him scoff. "yer filthier than i am, by the look of things."

you roll your eyes and move to climb out of the rusty treasure trove of junk you had deemed no longer having anything of value. reaching out, boothill offers you his hand. you take it easily as he starts pulling you up and out to stand in front of him. your hand drops from his when you stand safely in his bubble, and he isn't sure if you know how close you are or not.

your nose is always so focused in tinkering around or messing with work that you can't always... read the room so to speak. its endearing, until it gets frustrating anyway.

"so, what're you here for this time? need something fixed again- i swear if you already burned through that new servo i replaced a month ago, im going to take off your arm and you won't get it back for a week."

"well, that's awful sweet of you." you knew by his dry tone and sneered lips that exposed his sharp teeth that the word sweet was definitely supposed to be a different five-letter word starting with 's'. one that his broken beacon (which you refuse to fix out of entertainment) wouldn't allow him to say.

"seems like an appropriate consequence to me, considering i don't charge you for repairs."

"i ain't here for not goose-dud repair," he hisses. "i had planned on givin' ya somethin', but based on your sweet attitude i aint so sure about it now."

"you brought me something?" he nods. "from a different solar planet?" he could see the curiosity start to ignite in your eyes. he nods again. you stuff your gloves into a pouch in your pants that he swears you've sewed another pocket into, before you're marching away from him and towards the entrance he had marched from at the beginning of this search. "well come on, let's get a moving!" you shout over your shoulder.

his synthetic voice chuckles at your back. eagerly waltzing after you.

boothill soon finds himself sitting with his knees apart and comfortably lounging with his arms on the back of your worn-down, two-cushioned couch the moment you two got back to the shop. he had taken himself to your quote- reception room, as he waited for you to unload your finds from the junkyard (meaning you just took your bag, flipped it upside and let its content spill out unceremoniously onto your worktable before you would eventually sort through it at a later time).

the tapping of his metal toes against your floor echoed dully against the rug under the sofa as you soon made your way to stand in front of him, hands on your hips and an expectant look in your eyes. flicking the brim of his hat cheekily to get a better look up at you, he lifted his chin.

"my attention is yours," you dramatically sigh, hands flaring to your sides before bouncing back against your legs.

"im flattered, sugar," he jests back. still, he shifts. the small pouch he had strung to his belt that was home to his array of extra fire rounds was soon detached from him. the string of which was used to tie it to him previously, hangs lazily from his metal fingertips. with a raised, semi-skeptical brow, you carefully take it off his hands.

"if this is some sort of prank," you warn. his hands raise in the air with his elbows still resting comfortably on the back of the cushions he was leaning against, gesturing that he meant no harm.

slowly- cautiously- you pull open the bag and remove two different items that had been nestled safely inside.

tossing the now empty bag onto the couch next to boothill's leg, you took each item into one hand and looked between them. one was a small crystal that was no larger than the center of your palm. shining a swirling color of green and blue, you could only imagine that it would look even prettier properly polished and with a light shining behind it. in the other was a small box, one that could be opened with a rusty lid. giving it a small rattle revealed something to be inside. doing so revealed a small robot that had been covered in rust, missing a robotic arm and wires spilling out from under the cracked and broken screen that would most definitely have acted as it's face.

"what's all this?" you ask softly. boothill stands from his lackadaisical lounging on your sofa to come and waltz up to your side. he pointed at the robot sitting sadly in the container he had brought him in first.

"i found this lil fella and thought you'd have a gas fixin' him right up. as for that," he points to the crystal of dual-swirling shades next, "accordin' to my scanners, that there's a pretty dadgum power source." boothill takes the small crystal from your palm and hovers it just above the robot. "it suits him, don't it?" he chuckles.

in truth, the slightly dingy looking crystal shard was too magnificent compared to the busted and rusted robot. but, with a bit of work, repair and love, perhaps the color of the crystal really would look nice against polished sheet metal.

"i figure givin' you somethin' else to tinker with would be more... enriching than just your usual forkin' machines." and it could keep you company, but he didn't say that out loud.

when you would get it working like he knew you could, maybe you'd stop and think about him while he was away chasing his reality out as a galaxy ranger. if you could just spare a single thought towards him every day because of a small robot and shiny rock? he'd be tickled pink.

"he's cute," you whisper gently and boothill wonders if you know you said it out loud at all. he chuckles, bringing his hand up to cup the designed dents atop his cowboy hat. taking it off his head, he gently drops it onto yours, gaining your attention back from the gifts he had given you.

the way you lift your eyes to look at him- filled with something akin to excitement and fondness- and gently cradle the small rusty robot with his hat now shadowing your face, he could almost hear the wires in his chest running on turbo. he'd had to cool down asap before he overheated or crashed.

taking a step back- for his own sake- he leaves his hat on your head before patting your back.

"get to it," he softly tells you. you mutely nod, an excited smile breaking out over your lips as you trot towards a different room. it was a small private work space you retreated to for personal projects. boothill was one that was usually allowed inside since this room was where he would get his tune ups most times.

with boothill following your back, he watches you trot to your work bench. you gently set the robot's box down and remove it from inside. the crystal you submerged in a bowl that you soon fill with polish to let it soak. it took all of ten minutes before you're surrounded by tools and wires and equipment made for digital repairs. all the while boothill remade his comfort in a worn-down rocker you kept in the corner, content on staying put until he was forced to leave. whether it by your or by his next bounty.

he couldn't very well leave you with his hat either, even if it looked better on you than him.

the next time boothill comes into your shop after that gift drop off, it wasn't a visit but a proper repair. running out of cooling agent for his internal hardware was just waiting for a disaster to happen. his synthetic-coded laugh burst into the room jollily as when he sat down on the stool he always planted his ass in for repairs, a small, shiny robot- with the cutest digital expressions and a small blue-green swirling crystal placed in the center of its chest- was waddling across your work bench. a vile of blue cooling agent the near size of his small metal body grasped tightly in its robotic arms.

it chirped happily with a digital reverb when you thank it for bringing the coolant over.

boothill was indeed tickled as pink could get seeing you already attached to the lil fella. he wondered what you named it.

a/n: smol robot go beep-boop (i love the idea of mechanic!reader just having a cute lil guy to follow them around like a puppy :(( [big thanks to @/birinboom and my partner for letting me pick their brain on what gifts boothill ended up giving to the reader bc i had no idea lol smooches <3]

[vaspider]

Last year I wrote about what happened at Pride when a couple of kids didn't understand why us older folx were so bitter about Reagan.

This year, I have something a little softer.

Someone who looked a little older than me came up to the booth wearing a pink t-shirt proclaiming him one of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, San Francisco chapter. As I was ringing him up, I asked if he'd been involved for a while.

"Yes," he said, "for a bit," in that way us middle-aged people do when we're sort of wincing and feeling old.

"Okay, well," I said, sitting at my register in my queer booth full of queer clothes and patches and pins, topless in public for the first time. (I had pasties on for my own comfort bc I was working, but I live in the city of the Naked Bike Ride, and I took full advantage). My baby brother and both of my partners ran around behind me, my brother wearing a loose tank top that makes his scars visible.

"I need to tell you that you all helped keep me alive."

He blinked at me as I continued, "I was a kid in high school in the early 90s. I lived in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania, and what you all were doing was so loud and so out there that even I heard about your work. It was one of the things that kept me alive. So thank you, and please thank the rest of the Sisters."

I heard about them through people in my parents' church complaining about them, and then I sought more information through the beginning of the internet, through newspapers, through anything I could find. I found the cover of Newsweek that one of the Sisters was on. I read about their "exorcism" of fundamentalist preachers whose books sat on the shelf in my parents' basement and probably still do. I saw how loud and colorful and unapologetically queer they were.

The knowledge that someone was out there, so full of defiant joy, refusing the shame that people kept trying to put on them? Oh, that kept me alive. I saw them, and I knew I could make it through. I wrapped my hands around that knowledge, and I held on so tight.

It took me a long time - a long, long time - to unwind most of it for myself and get to the point where my fat butch ass was sitting bare-chested in the July breeze, looking up at him as he held out his arms and said "you're actually giving me chills." I answered, "I mean every word. You helped keep me alive. So thank you."

I never know what to say when people come up to me in public and tell me that I helped them or changed their life in some way. I appreciate it, and I genuinely love the people who apologized for "fanpersoning" at me last weekend, I just never know what to say. I'm incredibly grateful that the Sister I spoke to was incredibly gracious, saying "usually we give blessings, but I feel like you blessed me." Another member of the party let me pet their tiny dog, who was not very interested in me, and that's okay. It was an overwhelming day. Then, they moved on.

Me? I'm still sitting with the fact that I looked last weekend into the faces of people who didn't know they were holding my head above water, and that I got to tell them the work they do matters. It's a rare thing to get to tell someone, "You saved me," and I'm treasuring it.

Last weekend, I wore my new battle vest with nothing underneath it, unless it was too hot, and then I just sat in my chair, chatting and ringing ppl out with my skin free to the air. I decided last year that top surgery isn't for me, but that also I'm going to love this body unapologetically, and it's no less a transmasculine body because the soft new dark hair on my belly isn't accompanied by pink scars along my ribs.

I didn't get here on my own. I got here because someone else cut through the undergrowth ahead of me so I could take another step forward. Here I am, decades later, still taking step after step, one at a time, and trying to lay paving stones behind me.

Last weekend was another step along that way, another step through unwinding the fear and shame and sadness that my parents and their church built into me. Another step out of hating myself for hiding parts of myself for so long, for acting out in other ways to distract people from my queerness, for feeling so much guilt when other people tell me I'm brave, because I know how much of myself I hid for how long because I was a coward, because I was afraid.

Another step into expiating stigmatic guilt.

[suppose-i-was-worm]

For Lack of a Burger

**finally I have written! Sorry for the long absence, folks- my cat is a needy little thing and I love her. Enjoy!**

“As blood son of Batman, it is only natural that I train here to become heir to the Bat.”

Dick- well, Nightwing right now- looked down at Robin, who was staring out over Gotham with his brow furrowed.

“And what of the league? I can’t imagine them letting the heir to the Demon’s Head run loose.”

Robin stiffened a fraction more than he already was- something that Nightwing wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t trained by Batman himself.

“I know only one thing for sure concerning the heirship of the league.”

“What is that?”

“Grandfather will not taste relief in death.”

Nightwing wasn’t sure what that meant, but Damian seemed so assured of the fact. He would have to tell Bruce- maybe Ra’s had discovered a better method of immortality than the pits?

An alert pinged on their communicators, and the two of them checked it before heading off to save the citizens.

~~~

“I miss real food, Clocky.”

“You are currently unable to process it.”

“I know. Ectoplasm just isn’t the same though.”

Danny sprawled on Clockwork’s floor, lazily filling out paperwork from ages ago and yesterday.

“It has been a very long time since you left humanity behind.”

“I wish there was a safe way to go back and get some food.”

His mentor paused briefly, and Danny looked up. Was that a gleam in Clockwork’s eye?

“There is a way.”

Danny shot up into a seated position, crossing his legs.

“Tell me!”

“You will face many hardships.”

“Clockwork, serious as a funeral, I would kill for a burger right now.”

Clockwork smiled enigmatically.

“You may have to.”

He flicked his fingers and Danny found himself pushed back. He allowed it- at this point in his existence, he could overpower Clockwork, but he’d asked for this.

The world went dark around him.

~~~

In the year since he’d come to live with Father, Damian had not said a word about his brother. He’d been told, before being unceremoniously bundled away from the only home he’d ever known, that he was to be the heir of the Bat and Daniel was to be the Demon’s Head.

His mother had told him that Father would try and steal Daniel away from the League- that Damian would yet again be the lesser son. After a few months with Father, Damian had stopped believing that. There was no thing as a ‘lesser’ child for Father.

And yet.

Grandfather was a powerful man, and Grandfather treasured Daniel more than he had ever cared for Damian.

Daniel al Ghul, second son of the Bat of Gotham, was brilliant. He kept his emotions in check, fought with practiced ease in any situation, and spoke circles around even mother. It never took him as long as it took Damian to learn a new skill, and most of the time he spent studying, even when they were both allowed a break.

Damian loved him, even as the younger child overtook the position Damian had striven for his entire life.

What was not to love? Damian had loved him ever since his tiny hand had curled around his finger in infancy.

He had always been fond of small, cute things.

But if Daniel left the League, Grandfather would come after him, and it would be unsafe.

Damian held his tongue and loved his baby brother from a distance, even though he might never see him again.

~~~

John “Hellblazer” Constantine needed a drink. Or several.

Bats had appeared on the Watchtower with yet another new Robin, and this one was probably the most concerning out of all of them.

No, it wasn’t the sword.

It was the massive fucking protection order from a powerful death god that radiated off his small form.

“Bats.”

“Hm.”

“I need to talk to you and the kid.”

Bats nodded, a gesture John took to mean ‘go ahead’.

John sighed.

“Not here, Bats. Too many ears.”

“Hrn.”

The Bat swept away, followed closely by his brightly colored companion. John followed as well. He was pretty good at speaking Bat, after all these years working together.

They made their way into the bowels of the Watchtower, into a sitting room John hadn’t known existed.

“What do you need, Constantine?”

John paused for a moment, assessing. Robin was watching him suspiciously, hand on his sword, and Batman was standing half in front of the little bird protectively.

“Did you know this one was friends with a death god?”

“What?”

The Bat and Robin spoke the same word at the same time, in the exact same tone. Did they practice that? Anyways.

“Yup. Little redbreast screams hands off.”

“I am not acquainted with any gods.”

John shrugged.

“Doesn’t mean you knew they were a god. To get to the bottom of this- has anyone ever sworn to protect you in some way?”

Robin went still and pale behind his mask, before darting a glance up at Batman.

Batman, who was looking down at his sidekick.

“Robin? Report.”

The boy stuck his chin out.

“It was many years ago, Batman. He- they couldn’t have been a god.”

“You don’t know that, kid. Where did you meet him?”

“He wasn’t a god!”

Robin had become defensive, sword halfway out of it’s sheath, glaring at John- presumably for the sin of being alive.

“If the League of Assassins has contact with a deity of death, we need to know, Robin.”

Snarling, Robin started out of the room.

“I will not discuss him with either of you. He is safe where he is.”

“Robin- chum. Who is he?”

Robin stopped in the door, not looking back. His voice wobbled a little as he spoke.

“My younger brother.”

John needed a drink, and fast.

~~~

Danny stood over Damian’s bed, watching his older brother breathe shallowly. Grandfather had beat him badly, and Danny was still unsure why.

Talia wouldn’t look him in the eye, and Grandfather had gone to soak in the pits.

“Daniel?”

“Damian!”

Danny bent over his brother, placing a hand over his pulse to check it.

“Why?”

Why had Grandfather beaten him? Why had he stood and let it happen? Why didn’t he run?

“He… wanted me… t’kill you.”

Danny felt rage swell up in his tiny seven-year-old body. What right did Ra’s al Ghul think he had, to beat a child almost to death for such a reason?

What right did that man have, to touch someone Danny had come to care for?

Closing his eyes briefly, Danny allowed himself to meditate for the few moments it would take to let his rage die down enough to comfort his brother.

Once it had, he opened his eyes again and pressed his forehead to Damian’s.

“I swear I will protect you, ahki. Ra’s al Ghul will not taste relief in death.”

The next day Danny watched invisibly as Talia dipped Damian in the Lazarus pits to heal him before putting him on a plane to Gotham.

~~~

“You have made me proud, Daniel.”

Ra’s watched as Daniel bowed, having taken out a squadron of elite ninja for his tenth birthday.

The ninja were still breathing- Ra’s was sure Daniel had spared them so as to not weaken the ranks of the League he was set to inherit.

It pleased him that his young grandson was so wise, despite his youth. His older brother had no such wisdom- rash and impatient, still full of emotional weakness. Ra’s would no longer claim that boy as his grandson once Daniel passed his newest test.

With a wave of his hand, several ninja brought forth a young man. They had managed to kidnap Richard Grayson from under the nose of the Bat, and now Daniel would kill the other.

“Grandfather?”

“This is your Father’s oldest ward. He is a usurper to a place that rightfully should be yours. Kill him.”

Daniel walked towards the bound man, and the ninja holding the captive backed away respectfully.

“May I ask him a question, Grandfather?”

Ra’s nodded. There was no harm in it.

The boy drew his sword and stepped around the man, holding the blade to his neck.

“Tell me, Grayson. Is Damian well?”

The lilt in his voice spelled danger for Damian, and Ra’s could barely contain his grin at Daniel’s ferocity.

“He is protected,” the kneeling man forced out. “You won’t harm a hair on his head.”

Daniel smiled, not unlike a shark.

“I know.”

Before Ra’s could blink, Richard Grayson’s bonds had fallen to the floor as if he had turned into a ghost, and Daniel’s sword was stabbed into the dirt between the Demon Head’s feet.

“We are leaving, Ra’s, and you will not stop us.”

The venom in his calm grandson’s voice when Daniel said his name made Ra’s pause, but only for a moment.

At a gesture, ninja poured out into the courtyard, intent on recapturing Nightwing and taking down the heir to the Demon.

Seconds before the ninja collided with the two, Daniel grinned, his eyes locked straight on Ra’s, grabbed Grayson’s hand, and the two vanished.

~~~

Dick was… Confused didn’t quite cut it. His day had been a disaster, and then this tiny meta who looked like a carbon copy of Damian appeared.

“So… You a clone?”

“No.”

“Oh. Uh. What are we doing, by the way?”

The boy smiled serenely at him, and then continued his work.

“Jacking a plane.”

“You’re like, eight.”

The boy shrugged.

“If you like.”

“Where are we going?”

“Gotham.”

“Who are you?”

The boy turned and put his hands on his hips, and Dick was starkly reminded of Bruce by the posture and facial expression.

“Look, Grayson, I get it, you’re confused. But if you don’t shut up and let me finish this wiring, we’ll never get you back to Gotham before the League catches up.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

The boy turned back around and continued his wiring.

“Call me Danny. Too many fruitloops call me Daniel.”

Dick expected a long flight ahead of them.

~~~

Damian was strapping on the last of his gear to go rescue Richard from the League of Assassins when the man himself strolled into the batcave, looking tired but no worse for wear.

“Dick!”

Batman- no, he took his cowl off- Father threw himself across the room to assess the health of his son.

Damian started unstrapping his gear.

“How did you get free?”

“We apparently had a man on the inside?”

“Had?”

“He blew his cover to save me.”

“Nightwing, report. Where is this man now?”

“I was landing the plane. Nice digs, dad.”

The cave fell silent, but for the ringing of the batarangs Damian dropped as he spun to face the newcomer.

“Not sure what I think of the ‘cave’ vibe you have going on, though.”

“Daniel?”

Daniel met Damian’s eyes, and a look Damian had never seen on his little brother broke out on the boy’s face.

A true, genuine, joyful smile.

“Akhi!”

Damian pulled out his sword and held it towards the stranger in his brother’s body.

“Who are you?”

The boy laughed.

“I’m a little weird now, right? It’s okay, Damian, it’s me.”

“What was the last thing you said to me.”

Damian felt that was a good question. No one but Daniel would know.

“I said I would protect you, and that Ra’s al Ghul would not experience a pleasant afterlife.”

“That-“

“Isn’t quite it, I know. Still true, though. I brought the Lazarus pits with me. Ra’s can’t use them anymore.”

Damian heard Father and Drake choke at Daniel’s words. This was Daniel, despite his complete personality change. No one had been with them when Daniel had made his promise.

“Since when were you a god of death?”

Daniel laughed.

“It’s a long story, Ahki.”

Damian sheathed his sword and held out a hand.

“Come then, habibi, tell me.”

“Can I have a burger to go with the story? I’m starving."

[e-hibiscus]

Synopsis: Sending and/or receiving (love) letters from each other.

Pairing: Arlecchino x gn!reader, Clorinde x gn!reader, Eula x gn!reader

sfw utc‼️‼️

Arlecchino

With Arlecchino, exchanging letters is a common occurrence. Her time away from Fontaine can be prolonged and sporadic, however the messages and letters you wish to send always find themselves in her grasp in a timely manner.

Your letters are long; full of present and future plans, but always includes a small portion at the end dedicated to how much you miss her. How you can’t wait for her to come back home, and for Arlecchino to take care of herself. Even if she knows very few individuals could cause her any harm, Arlecchino finds your concern endearing.

Arlecchino adores if you send her pictures alongside them. She often keeps them with her until she returns home; collecting the photographs as sentimental momento from you within her private quarters alongside all the other little gifts you make just for her. She keeps the majority of your letters in a box within her office.

In turn, Arlecchino sends back just as many letters, if not more. Her handwriting is elegant; strokes thin and pristine. Each letter is handwritten and delivered with your favorite type of flower or small gifts from wherever she’s currently assigned. The majority of the time, one of the children would be the one to hand the envelope to you because she trusts them more than any fatui agent.

Clorinde

Clorinde was the first to send you a love letter. It was a confession asking you to become her partner, and it’s written with affection and care that would’ve been unbelievable if not for your long standing friendship with one another. Many of her affections are written out, for your eyes only. She’s often reserved with her affections, but her adoration is laid fully bare in each word written in ink.

Her letters are saved for special occasions such as your anniversary, birthdays, and other special events. They’re neatly placed in a custom sealed envelope, addressed solely to you alongside a small gift she knows you’ll treasure. It’s usually an object you’ve been eyeing when the two of you go for your evening stroll together.

Clorinde enjoys watching you open and read them. For her, it’s far easier to put her feelings into writing. She adores the way your gaze softens so lovingly, your eyes come up to meet hers, and how flushed your cheeks become.

She prefers sending you letters, but when you write one in turn, Clorinde keeps it in her bedside table; rereading your letters when she either wakes up or before heading to bed.

Eula

Eula secretly adores the love letters you leave for her. Before she wakes up or after she falls asleep you leave a folded letter on the kitchen counter where you know she will see.

The first time you wrote her a love letter, Eula turned beet red. She was just as flustered as when you first confessed your feelings for her. She (tries) to maintain a cold outward demeanor, however she carefully places the letter meticulously back. She’s kept that one letter in her office at work so she could reread it on a bad day.

Her letters to you seem well thought out. They’re written perfectly, and Eula lets you know how “effortlessly” writing something like this was for her. In reality, she’s rewritten the same letter over and over again because she doesn’t quite know just how she wants to say she loves you. Even as she writes, the knight can’t help but feel the heat rising up her face as she envisions your reaction to her letter.

She’ll swear to herself when the ink blots on the page, crumpling it before getting a fresh sheet. It needs to be perfect because Eula wants to send you a perfect letter. It’s what you deserve for being her lover!

[plutoswritingplanet]

could you do a request of Buggy (opla) falling for Luffy’s older sister? (Adopted or blood relation, doesn’t matter) like he takes her hostage but she doesn’t seem to mind. She know she can escape at any time, but keep annoying buggy to a point where… he doesn’t see her as a hostage anymore, more like treasure? And she starts to maybe feel something for the clown?

You Started It (Buggy The Clown x Reader)

a/n: how did i know the first request will be about the clown lmao. i took some liberties when writing this but i hope you still like it <3

Warnings: Buggy Being Kind Of An Asshole, Captivity, Some Suggestive Themes

Summary: Poking the bear isn't the wisest things you could be doing in your particular situation.

Part 2.

You've memorized every nook and cranny of your shoes. The time you've spent in containment has really opened your eyes, when it comes to how little you actually knew about the clothes you were wearing. For example, your right shoe was slightly bigger, molded by your foot. You must be putting more weight onto your right leg, when standing. The hem of your shorts is made with a very close cross stitch, making them slightly sturdier and thicker. Right where the material folds, just above your knee, you've managed to pick out a small hole, the strings of abused material hung sadly and tickled your skin.

There wasn't really much to do, while being kept in a cage, in the backstage of a circus which belonged to the infamous Buggy the Clown. Well, except studying the stains on your shoes and waiting for the Captain to visit you, which he did quite frequently.

"Entertainment purposes" is the reason he declared, when you've asked him why on earth is he keeping you locked up in a hanging cage. But you weren't so easily fooled. You knew from the start, that the role he has envisioned for you to play, was that of a Hostage and Bait. So, inevitably, when your younger brother and his merry band of misfits come to save you, he'd be able to even out the score. Which was a shitty plan, in your opinion.

They've kicked his ass before, they can do it once again.

So, that's why you're here, feet dangling above the floor, as you hum to yourself. Anything to pass the time. That is, until you hear the door to the backstage open, and a familiar tone of voice calls out.

"Hostage!"

Really, how did he even expect you to stay in the dark about his plan, while calling you like this? The man was clearly insane.

Buggy the Clown stands before you, makeup disheveled as always, with his Captain's hat abandoned in favor of a striped bandana. He's excited, which is evident, by the way he can't seem to stop moving, jumping from one leg to the other, hands fidgeting at his sides.

"How are you feeling, my dear Hostage?" he asks with fake concern, and just as your mouth opens to answer, he interrupts "Ah, never mind that, I don't care."

You don't even try to hide the annoyed expression on your face.

"You can sing" he states matter-of-factly, pointing a finger right at you.

"Barely."

"Can you dance though?"

"Barely as well."

He hums in thought, pacing the floor in front of your cage. Finally, he stops, looking at you with his head tilted to the side. His eyes rake over your body, and it brings a sudden wave of discomfort to your bones.

"You'll be performing in our next act."

Again, his tone leaves no space for an argument. Still, you were never an agreeable person, smiles were more of your brother's thing. So, you straighten out as much as the cage allows you and cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Do whatever you like, my brother will get me out of here before you can say Welcome to my big show".

"Welcome to my big show" he says immediately, then, raises his finger, as if he's waiting for the entire crew of Strawhats to fall from the sky.

They don't, obviously, and he gives you a pointed look, to which you respond with a roll of your eyes.

"Besides" he turns around and opens one of the chests laid out on the table "Aren't you a bit old to dote on your younger brother so much?"

The question genuinely offends you, and as he pulls out another bandana, this one red, covered entirely with big white polka dots, your eyes glimmer with venom.

"Aren't you a bit old to play dress up?"

He turns in a blink of an eye, and with terror mixed with disgust you watch his hands detach from his body, slamming into the cage. The force of impact sends it flying right into the nearby wall, the back of your head smacks against the metal bars. The swinging of the cage coupled with the stars erupting before your eyelids from the impact make you feel dizzy.

Then, Buggy takes a step towards the cage, connecting his hands with the rest of his body, and your prison stops swinging in an instant.

"I should kill you for that" he says lowly, his blue eyes bearing into your face.

"You started it" you choke out an accusation, trying very hard not to vomit.

He stays completely quiet, just watching you for a long while, his hands slowly loose tension. Then, as if his rage has entirely dissolved, he smiles, teeth completely exposed, as his cheeks crease. God, you'd do such a better job at his make-up, given the chance.

"You're funny, Hostage" he shakes his head, and suddenly, for some unknown reason, it downs upon you, just how close to you, he's standing.

"Sing for me some more" he says.

And then, his hands push back with sufficient force to send your cage flying again. You groan at the movement, another wave of nausea almost making you loose your breakfast. When you finally have the perfect, biting comeback, he's already gone, the door slamming after him. You're alone again.

A sigh escapes your lips, as you press your forehead to the cold metal of the cage. You've already memorized all the details of your own clothes, and the room was too dark to see anything more. So, you start observing the cage. The way the light shifts up and down on the bars, the way the brown paint seems to peel away under your thighs. Then, you look up, towards the place where all the bars have been stuck together.

And then your eyebrows furrow. Because just above the ceiling of the cage, you can see something poking out. Something roughly the size of a fist and colored a pale, fleshy color. You raise yourself slightly in your seat, to get a better look, and immediately regret doing so.

It's an ear. His ear. Detached and placed right on top of the cage. That's how he knows about your singing, the bastard.

An idea brews in your brain, mischief spilling out of your growing smirk. You pull yourself up, until you can reach the top of the cage. Your arm is just slender enough to slip past the bars, and your fingers brush against the cold flesh of the ear. Before Buggy, wherever he is, can react, you snatch the ear from the top of the cage, keeping a tight grip, as it starts to jump in your hand.

Then, you take a deep breath, place the ear close to your lips… And give the most blood-curling, shrill scream you could muster.

Immediately, you hear a string of curses coming your way, and a second later Buggy bursts into the room, a murderous expression on his face. You open your hand, and the ear nearly bursts out of your fingers, flying back to it's owner like some sort of deformed beetle. The sight, for some reason, is so incredibly funny, you can't help but choke out a little giggle. Which soon becomes a quite big giggle, which in turn morphs into a full blown laughter.

You can't see the Captain through the tears of laughter forming in your eyes, so when he knocks on the metal bars of your cage, you nearly choke from surprise. He's looking at you strangely. Not quite as angry as before, but there is something else lurking behind his eyes. As if he's enveloped deeply in his thoughts, but at the same time completely present and focused on you. Your laughter dies down in an instantly, and you reach up to wipe your tears, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"I've captured myself a comedian, huh?" the man leans closer to the bars of the cage, placing his forehead against them and looking at you from below "You trying to take my place as the funniest person in the circus? Hm, Hostage?"

You risk a smirk, leaning down towards him. He watches your movements with a curious expression, eyes darting all over your face.

"Yeah" you whisper "So, you better watch your back."

At that, he smiles one of his brilliantly wide smiles. This one however, seems the most honest out of every one you've seen up to this point. You try not to linger too much at the way his eyes seem to shine in the dimly lit room. Or how the stubble on his face makes his features sharper. Or even on the way his arms flex as he leans against the cage. And definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, you're not focusing on the fact, that he's standing nestled right between your dangling legs.

So, before your brain conjures up any unwanted ideas, you clear your throat again and straighten up. Buggy notices the shift in your posture, but doesn't move, instead it seems as if a lightbulb has literally appeared beside his head. Desperate to change the subject, which hasn't been even brought up yet, you wave your hand in the general direction of his ear.

"Your ability is pretty useful" you try to sound as neutral, as humanly possible.

"Oh?" he tilts his head back and gives you a suspicious look.

"Yeah, that eavesdropping thing was really cool… And slightly disgusting" your nose scrunches "But mostly cool."

He hums low in his throat, his hands slowly letting go of your cage. Still, he remains standing between your legs, your knee brushing against his prominent hip bones.

"Are there" you swallow "Any limits to this ability?"

Now, his eyebrows jump straight under his bandana, and you definitely do not like the slow smirk filling his features.

"I mean, like, can you detach your nose? Or um… I don't know, your fingernails?"

Finally he steps back, stretching his arms to the side, as if he's giving you a show, and in a way, he does. There are muscles, hidden under those circus clothes. His exposed forearms are nicely shaped, with thick veins running the length of them. You really don't mean to ogle the man, but fuck, he is handsome. In an "insane-sadistic-clown-who-is-also-a-pirate-for-some-reason" way.

"I can detach every single part of my body with no effort" he says, his smile growing.

Before you could really think about your actions, your gaze falls downward, right to his belt keeping his trousers up. Mortified, that your brain would even go there, you tear your eyes up, and with a horrified expression, look upon a face full of excitement.

Then, Buggy raises his hands to his heart, feigning a scandalized expression, which would've been funny, if you weren't currently blushing in the lovely shade of a ripe beetroot.

"I'm sorry… that's not… I didn't" your words come out a jumbled mess, and Buggy wheezes out a laugh.

"Oh would you look at that" he puts his hands behind his back, as he slowly starts to stalk towards your confinement "You know, with how sheltered your little brother is, I didn't expect you to be such a dirty pervert."

You choke on air, arms flailing inside the cage, as you genuinely are at a loss for words, You can feel your face grow impossibly hot, the heat spreading all the way to the tops of your ears. The Clown still advances, until his face is pushed right between the bars of the cage, a smile on his lips and a glint in his eye. You don't know what to do with yourself, as the man continues to laugh at your outrage.

Finally, his right hand flies from behind his back and stops right above his head. Then, as if making a show specially for you out of his unusual abilities, he lets his pointer finger remove itself from the hand. Involuntarily, you make a face, and try to push yourself as far into the cage, as humanly possible. Which, given the size of your prison, does practically nothing. The finger aims straight at your nose and presses it with slightly more force, than a friendly "boop" would.

"You started it" he throws your own words back at you, and watches your dumbfounded expression with a smile and a giggle.

Finally, he steps back, all his body parts in place, and you can breathe again at last. Then, with a flourish, he bows down before the cage, before giving you a slightly unbalanced twirl. At that, you can't help but smile, almost fondly. He's not so bad, when he isn't actively trying to murder you and your friends.

"Anyways, get ready, your grand performance is in a week" he concludes, and you sigh deeply.

So he hasn't let this one go.

No matter. A week from now, you'll be out of this place. The thought fills you with joy, and strangely, with some sort of melancholy, which you have to jot down as nausea, just to protect your own mental health.

"Hostage" the man says, as a goodbye, bowing once again, this time with fewer theatrics, and begins to walk back towards the door. "Captain" you respond in kind, inclining your head slightly.

He stops in his tracks, back turned to you, before slowly, twisting his body, to look you in the face. He wants to say something, his mouth opens and closes, and anticipation floods your stomach. But then, his lips pull back into one more smile, more reserved, more private. Now, in this rare moment of tranquility, he looks truly handsome, and your heart jumps to your throat at the realization. He gives you one last look, shakes his head at the floor, and exits with a soft click of the door.

You're, once again, left alone with your mismatched shoes and the hole in your shorts. This time, however, your head is filled with tender thoughts, one that could keep you company, until another visit befalls you.

[starstruckgoateepuppy]

i was a dick, it is what it is

mina x f!reader

synopsis: you wanted to die so bad, and when you try, you forget about how much it would hurt your mina

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: mentions of pills, vomit

wc:854

a/n: my mimiwimi 🙁 i have so many drafts goodness its short but oh well sorry to disappoint

you held the pill bottle in your hand. you were crying, no one was home, no one to stop you. but why were you hesitating? you felt so helpless and at that moment you wanted to live, you wanted to live peacefully and happily without any problems. but who doesn’t have problems?

you had your mom and dad who was never around, you had some friends who you treasured very dearly, and your girlfriend who you would kill for. you were struggling so much and no one was there to save you from it, you didn’t want to burden anyone.

you hated that you felt this way, you hated that everyone had to see how messed up you were. you wanted to care for people, not needing them to take care of you. you plopped the pill in your mouth, swallowing it.

suddenly in your dilemma, you hear a buzz from

your phone. a notification from your precious girlfriend. you read it carefully, you read it again and again. you suddenly drop the pill bottle and regret everything you did. what did you do? why were you doing this? you had so many people who cared for you. you started to remember that, you forgot about it. you ran to the bathroom as fast as you could. forcing yourself to throw up the pill you just swallowed.

“hey lovely, you know that i miss you and i care for you so much right? xoxo your girl, minari”

that was a text that was sent a few seconds ago and a text that mina probably didnt know saved you from almost not being there anymore. you were struggling trying to vomit the pill out. you didn’t want to die anymore. you wanted to hug your girlfriend, your mother who cared for you when you were at your worst, even when your father was being horrible and argued with your mother so many times. you couldn’t imagine how much she would be grieving if you left.

your mouth was full of the white substance from the pill that was meant to unalive you. you vomited it out? hopefully. you wanted to stay, get some help. you felt painful in your heart, you wanted to live but the pain was unbearable. at least you were trying.

you hear the front door open. your mom came home, you run into her arms. surprising her a little, she hugged back tightly, kind of choking each other but you couldn’t care. you almost did not have the chance to hug her again. you kept remembering the message mina sent you. you had to meet her now. you had to tell her everything and tell her all your feelings and problems you have kept to yourself all the months. and how much she has helped you mentally.

“mom can i go to minas house?” you look up at her, loosening the hug. she nods, knowing that you had to say something important.

she went into your room after you left, not wanting to invade your privacy but just wanting to sit on your bed thinking. as she sat, she felt something hard after placing her hand on the bed. she saw the pill bottle, she stared at it closely. tears welling up from her eyes. she couldn’t believe what she saw, she really hoped you were safe, she couldn’t imagine you gone, the very room she was in, your body was almost found dead in. why was she only finding out about this? she felt so guilty she never realised any of this sooner. you were such a cheerful person, never once would she have thought you felt like this. it pained her as a mother that you felt this way. no wonder that was the most warming hug you have ever given her.

-

your frantic knocking on minas front door begging for her to open up and hug her as tight. you never left the house for days, saying you were sick and your body was sore. it never was, maybe your heart was. you haven’t met your baby in weeks and you never realised how much you took her for granted. you regretted ghosting her without telling her why you weren’t coming to school nor texting her. she was also helpless but she knew something was wrong and knew it was a problem for you to fix. she trusted in you that you would never do something like that on purpose to make her feel bad.

you were a great girlfriend in her eyes, anyone could see how much you cared and loved her. she couldn’t imagine a world without you. although she almost had to.

the creak of the door as it opened up to see a beautiful black haired woman with the brightest gummy smile you have ever seen. she smiled so hard her cheeks were hurting, how could she not knowing you were just fine? you lifter her up, letting her gasp in surprise. you were so happy and grateful God gave you another chance and the realisation that you have people who care about you.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hi!! Hope everything is going well!

Could I Please ask for some bottom buggy (mayhaps with some watersports since I saw you had a interest) or some ftm crocodile being fucked into submission!

Have a nice day.

Ftm Sir Crocodile x male reader

Ficlet

I love Sir Crocodile so much 🗣️ 🗣️

Reader is part of Buggy’s crew, cuz I thought that would be hilarious. Reader doesn’t have a devil fruit, but is still super kickass. Hes kind of the information gatherer, smuggler, etc, for the Buggy crew. Reader is also normal human height.

Mixed terminology for Crocs bits. Also, breeding/pregnancy? kink warning ig. but its just mentioned for the fantasy.

The Cross Guild appeared great for any outsider or lesser in the know members, which was most of them. They all saw your captain as someone great and almost godly, thinking he was so much more than he was, but you had been with him for many years, even before the Buggy pirates had even been created. Shortly after the execution of Rogers, Buggy had stumbled into your path and had accidentally saved your life, and from then on you had been by his side.

Most people thought of you as something akin to an accountant or treasurer, wearing an outfit that looked very much like that of a ringmaster, long red tailcoat and top hat and all. You were always one of the first to run away, giving you a reputation of a coward who couldn’t fight.

The only one who truly knew how much of a threat you could be, would be your captain and his inner circle, which you were also part of. You might not have been the strongest physically compared to someone like Mihawk, but no one could gather information like you could, smuggle like you could, or have someone “disappear” like you could. Your network was so extensive that even the one they called Joker, who you knew was none other than Donquixote Doflamingo, was jealous.

That was why you knew everything about Sir Crocodile and Mihawk before the day was over when the Cross Guild was formed. You cowered off to the side, keeping up your weak act as you flinched at their raised voices or the light reflecting off Crocodiles golden claw.

They believed you a weak fool who’s only worth was your quick mind and ability to calculate numbers quicker than most computers, which resulted in them mostly dismissing you. It was a role you basked in and felt comfortable, using it to keep your true identity under wraps. That was until they pushed your captain too far, as Crocodile especially seemed to take great pleasure in antagonizing and hurting your captain.

You were protective, most pirates were, if they felt any sense of loyalty to their captain. It was because of that, that you dug up a trusted contact, a celestial dragon with greater access to seastone than anyone else you knew. Using measurements from the moment’s clothes had to be made, a pair of cuffs in just the perfect size soon arrived to you with the post.

It was easy to press Crocodiles buttons, to get him worked up by acting stupid and pathetic, just the way you knew made his blood boil. It was even easier to enrage him so far that he chased after you, so blinded by his anger that he didn’t even notice how you kept avoiding his sand, or how you were leading him further and further away from the rest of the guild.

When he finally caught up, Crocodile caged you against the wall, hook digging into the drywall as he almost snarled down at you, cigar crunched between his teeth as his purple eyes blazed. But mild confusion crossed his face as your fearful expression dropped, his body straightening as your eyes met his head on. Before Crocodile could order an explanation, a feeling of weakness crashed through his body, making his knees buckle enough that you had to catch him, supporting his towering weight and bulk.

His vision swam as you started dragging him along, his feet dragging along the floor because of his height compared to your own. Crocodile felt dizzy and mildly nauseous, his eyes finally catching the heavy bands around his wrist, the one he still had left. “ssseastone?” he slurred out, voice lighter than the growl you were used too, cigar long forgotten somewhere along the journey.

In the beginning, you had planned on torturing him, the blades strapped to your person burning at the thought, but as you threw him down almost carelessly on a barely clad bed, a different through passed through your mind.

A slight thrill ran down your spine as his purple eyes burnt into you, his usual anger still present, but mixed with something else, something deeper and hungrier. Soft pants left Crocodiles lips, sounding faintly struggled as the seastone drained the power from his body, leaving him limp and pliant.

You could see the heat rising to Crocodiles cheekbones as you started stripping off your usual getup, tailcoat slid off your shoulders and neatly folded, top hat placed down with care. “What the hell are you doing…” Crocodile rasped from the bed, his pupils blown as an unfamiliar need unfolded inside him, the familiar thrum of pleasure running through body.

Maybe it was his weakened state, but he swore his cunt was pulsing with need, especially as you unbuttoned the stark white shirt you always wore, revealing a tightly muscled and heavily scarred body underneath, leather straps adorned with vials and weapons stretched across your torso.

Crocodile tried to shuffle his legs, maybe to squeeze his thighs together, or to spread them further apart, he wasn’t sure, but all he could do was a minimal twitch and jolt. “I planned on cutting you up, making you beg for mercy. But from the looks of it… you wouldn’t mind some other kind of discipline” you murmur, almost stalking towards him where Crocodile was splayed out on top of the white sheets.

You could see all his muscles tense as you let your hands climb up his legs, up his thighs and stomach, traveling all the way up his arms towards his hook. A choked off noise leaves Crocodile as you remove his hook with ease, like you had done it a thousand times before, placing it off to the side with care.

“Behave yourself” you tell him, squeezing the sides of his jaw to make his lips part. Crocodile tried to growl or snap a threat, to snap his teeth at you or somehow fight back, but his body was mostly unresponsive, his tongue feeling thick and useless in his mouth.

A shiver of anticipation ran through Crocodile as you moved again, settling between his thick spread thighs. Your eyes met as you reach for his belt, your brow lifting as if asking if he wanted you to stop. You may be a pirate, but you had class and manners, at least when it came to stuff like this.

But when all Crocodile responded with was a sour expression and glare, you make easy work of his belt and slacks, tugging them down his hips and legs, throwing them off to the side with little care. Your disregard for his clothes made Crocodile grumble, but the noise was quickly silenced as you pressed your entire hand against his slick underwear, fingers teasing his hard t-cock and soaked folds.

“Tsk tsk, look at you, bet you just need someone to put you in your place, is that it?” you mumble in an almost mocking tone, looking up at him with an almost feral hunger in your eyes. Crocodile chokes on the words that want to form in his throat, some kind of rebuttal perhaps, that he would never want someone as low as you to do anything to him, but as you pinch his cock between your fingers, it morphs into a shaky moan.

Crocodile’s boxers as easily pulled off, thrown to the floor with a damp plap, making his face redden further as you only find amusement in the obvious sign of his arousal. Kicking off your pants and boxers, you crawl up the bed and sit between his thick thighs, pushing them further apart to expose where he only grows slicker, hole clenching around nothing as if begging you to fill it.

“What would they say, seeing the great Sir Crocodile, spread out like this, ready to take the cock of a feeble weak treasurer” you taunt, pressing your hips closer to his, so that you could drag the tip of your cock up and down through his folds. The act has Crocodile arching as good as he can with the cuff on, his eyes squeezing shut as he clenches his jaw, a breathy noise leaving him, folds only growing slicker around you.

Maybe it was your size difference, with you being average human size, compared to Crocodiles almost 9 feet, or maybe it was his gut deep arousal, but his hole didn’t need much prep for you to be able to fit inside.

That didn’t mean you were just gonna give it to him, since this was supposed to be a lesson. A stuttery moan spills almost silently from Crocodiles lips as your fingers rub through his folds, barely pressing against where he wants you the most. He had never imagined himself in a situation like this, splayed out and dripping for you, someone he had always just seen as a nuisance, but here he was.

“Come on Crocodile… ask nicely” your tone is almost cruel as you push only two fingers inside him, barely felt because of his size, but just enough to rub against his wet gummy insides and leave him aching for more. Crocodiles jaw clenches, barring his teeth as his head weakly rolls to the side, as if to hide his face into the sheets.

“Or… I could just leave you here, thighs spread open, cunt glistening with want. Im sure someone will pass by, and who wouldn’t want a chance to fill this” as if to exaggerate your point, you push two more fingers into his slick hole, burying them as deep as possible into Crocodiles wet insides, punching a gasp out of him.

Crocodile seems to debate it, if he wants to put his pride aside for someone like you, but his thoughtprocess is knocked off course as you pinch his cock with your free hand, twisting it cruelly. Had he not been wearing the seastone cuff, his thighs would have clamped shut and a shout would have left him, but now all his body could do was tense up as a wet keen tumbled out of him.

“P…please” Crocodile finally mumbles, voice small and almost shy, but it can barely be heard over the wet slick sounds of your fingers thrusting in and out of him, his wetness running down your palm and wrist in the process.

“Hm?” you hum, the questioning tone in it clear, as if you didn’t hear him at all, giving his cock another twist just because you could. “fuck me… please…” is gasped out, Crocodiles insides clenching around your slick fingers as they rub and prod around inside him.

Your fingers movements slow to a stop, silence filling the room long enough for Crocodile to peek an eye open and look down at you. Your eyes are intense as they bore into his, the predatory flare in them making Crocodiles insides quiver. “Normally id demand better than that, but I’m starting to pity you” you scoff out, withdrawing your fingers from his hold with a slick noise.

Instead of wiping them off on the sheets, you use the large amount of slick that had gathered in your palm to slick up your shaft, releasing a huffed exhale as Crocodiles eyes widen at the sight. “I’ve thought about making you ride me, so you’ll have to make yourself take it, but we can’t do that right now, can we” you eye the cuff around his one wrist, making Crocodile growl and spit out a weak warbled “fuck you”

His insult carries no heat, clearly only for show, his glare quickly wiped off his face as you finally push inside him. Crocodile needs little time to adjust, resulting in you almost immediately setting a bruising rough pace, drawing in and out of him with loud wet slick noises, his hole gripping onto you as he gasps and moans.

Reaching down, you push his shirt up just enough to splay a hand across his lower stomach, a foxlike grin spreading across your lips as you watch his hips weakly roll into your own. “If you weren’t such an asshole, I could fuck you whenever. Imagine that Crocodile, walking around, cunt leaking my cum, as you try to play tough.” You chuckle darkly, tone thick and hungry in the way only a predatory animal could possess.

As your cock rams into that sensitive spot inside him, Crocodile is finally starting to realize you are truly more than you seem, his cunt drooling a wet puddle under him on the sheets as you take him with a new hunger, a glint appearing in your eyes as your hand presses down harder on his stomach.

“I could knock you up you know, right here.” Is hissed out as you bottom out inside Crocodile, the words making him tighten up and shiver in want. “No one would find you so scary then, would they Crocodile. Waddling around, fat with my kid” you purr, letting both your hands splay across his stomach. It was all fantasy, but by God did it make Crocodile wet and wanting. Something about the fantasy of you, some lesser subordinate knocking him, Sir Crocodile, up, had him seeing double.

The seastone didn’t help with his woozy state, all attempts at forming words only becoming half formed and slurred, Crocodiles eyes going wet and glassy as that familiar feeling spread through his body. “in… inside me…” Crocodile slurs as you curse to yourself, clearly close to the finish line as well. Had it not been for the cuffs, he would have thrown his legs around you, squeezing you against his body to keep you inside him, but all he could do now was beg.

Crocodiles pride crumbled as your fingers squeezed his cock one last time, a pure orgasmic expression crossing his face as he gasped and moaned, his entire body twitching weakly as he came, wetting your cock and the sheets even further as the feeling thrummed through his entire body.

With a deep groan you bottom out inside Crocodile for a last time, letting your eyes squeeze shut as you spill inside him, coating his insides in a thick coat of white. Crocodile whimpers weakly at the feeling, trying to squeeze around you as if to milk your length for more.

He slumps against the sheets further than he already is, eyes falling shut in a relaxed exhausted expression. Crocodile barely notices as you pull out, white leaking out from between his folds to join his own mess on the sheets. He barely even notices you cleaning him up, only twitching and gasping softly when you clean up between his legs.

Its only when the seastone cuff leaves his wrist that Crocodile returns to himself somewhat, as the familiar feeling of his devilfruit washes through his body again. Squinting his eyes open, he catches sight of you getting dressed again, tucking on your shirt, then your coat, and lastly placing your hat on top of your head.

Even with his devilfruit returned to him, Crocodile still feels weak and exhausted, but the good type of exhausted one only gets after a good fuck. Part of him wants to ask you to stay, to hold him and pet his hair, to maybe mumble more dirty fantasies about knocking him up, and how you’d make him live as your pretty little housewife. But instead, Crocodile just grunts to get your attention, his attempt to demand to know where you are going.

“I have to get back to the others, since ill be taking over your duties for the rest of the day and tomorrow” you say, voice resolute and not allowing any denial or struggle. And normally Crocodile would have growled and rejected anyone taking over his duties, but for some reason, the idea of you taking care of him made him relax deeper into the bed, muscles lax and thoughts empty and calm for once.

Approaching him, you press a soft kiss to his forehead before telling him “this room is hidden away from everyone else, so take all the time you need. Ill check up on you later” as you pat his cheek. After telling him where the bathroom is, where he could find towels and replacement sheets and blankets, you were on your way, leaving Crocodile on his lonesome.

It took a while, but he finally pushed himself into a seated position before getting to his feet. The feeling of your cum trickling down the insides of his thighs as the familiar heat of arousal burning inside him once more, making Crocodile shuffle towards the bathroom you had pointed him towards. Even though you had just left, he could still get himself off a few more times from just the memory alone.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be disciplined by you, he wondered how you’d react if he caused issues with your smuggling routes. The idea sent a line of heat up his spine as he stepped into the shower, hand quickly traveling between his thighs, fingers burying themselves into his still sensitive hole, fantasies of hungry glare and cruel fingers filling his mind.

[shirefantasies]

Thorin’s Company When You Tell Them the Legend of Brísingamen (F!Reader)

Tagging @welikeimagines-andfandoms for the idea inspiration, thanks love 😉 Warnings: suggestive of course given the nature of this legend 😂 but no explicit acts described

"In my world, dwarves are but the stuff of legend," you told your company, all rapt at your words and the sight of your features flickering in the fireglow as they rose into a little smirk, "In fact, one of my favorite legends involves a group of dwarves." "Well, go on, then!" Gloin encouraged. "Tell us!" "Yeah," Ori agreed, eyes shining, "What are you waiting for?" "Dramatic effect," you teased with a grin, "But I shall tell you the legend of Brísingamen. Known as the necklace of flame, Brísingamen was the most beautiful piece of jewelry in the world." "Crafted by dwarves no doubt!" Bombur chimed in. "Of course," you nodded, smiling softly, "Four dwarves forged it: Alfrik, Berling, Grer, and Dvalin." "Sounds a lot like..." Nori teased, elbowing Dwalin. "Indeed!" You agreed, nodding the tattooed dwarf's way. "Maybe it's a relative, huh? Well, Brísingamen was not just beautiful, but magical! Its protective magic attracted the goddess Freya, who offered to purchase it with great riches of silver and gold. The dwarves, however, had no need for her treasure. Rather they offered a different form of payment: they would give her the necklace if she was willing to spend a night with each of them." "They didn't!" Nori burst out, smiling devilishly. "Well," Balin countered, "Even if they did, it doesn't mean-" "And that, my friends," you cut him off with a wicked grin of your own, "Is the story of how Freya acquired Brísingamen." Uproar overtook the camp, shouts of triumph, applause, laughter, outrage, shock from Bilbo, and you loved every minute of it. One particular reaction stood out to you, however....

Balin

"Ah, lass," Balin teased you, shaking his head, "What've you gone and filled their heads with now?" "Old stories," you answered with a shrug and a look of mock-innocence, "Myths, really. Tales I thought they might get a kick out of." "A little too much of a kick, I daresay," Balin replied, nodding toward Nori, who looked you up and down with a smile. "I'm not so easily bought as Freya," you told him, "I would give myself only to the one who has my heart." At that, Balin arched a bushy white brow. "And who might that be?" Involuntarily your jaw dropped at his question, eyes staring into his as anew. "You mean you do not know?" “You mean you want me like I want you? How?” Balin’s brown eyes shone so sincerely your heart all but broke, save for a select phrase that played over and over again, turning your fluttering heart back over and curling your lips back into a grin. “It wasn’t only their heads I filled with ideas, was it?”

Dwalin

Shaking his head, Dwalin gave a little snort. "All that over a necklace." Dropping back down onto the log at his side, shifting on its rough surface, you gave him a teasing smile. "You wouldn't do it, then?" Rather than a verbal answer, the dwarf gave you an exasperated glare you laughed heartily at. "Would you?" He asked in gruff incredulity. "Four's a lot to handle," you joked, "Even if it's not at a time. Think I'd just pick my favorite and go with that." "Oh, you've favorites, then?" "I quite liked one of them. What was his name again?" Putting a finger to your chin, you kept teasing. "It was very familiar." "What makes you think he'd spend the night with you?" "I can be very persuasive," you replied, lowering your voice and leaning closer, your nose almost brushing his. "He's going to need you to persuade him a little harder than that." "That can be arranged," you told the tattooed dwarf, a hand falling to his knee as you planned to make him ever regret asking.

Thorin

“What was the point of you telling that story?” Thorin. Off to the side, not sitting down, hands folded at his back. Serious. Of course. “Just for a bit of fun,” you told him with a shrug. “Fun? Is that what you want with us? All of us to-” “Skies above, Thorin,” you waved both hands defensively, “Is that what you think of me? I only told it because I knew they would like it. I want to help you, you know. I care about you.” At that, the king-to-be shook his head, some black locks loosening and falling to his shoulder with the motion. “You’re right. That was unfair and I am sorry,” he apologized, blue eyes wavering from yours, “I don’t know what came over me, I just-” Something flashed in those fierce icy eyes as he trailed off, something that had your lips quirking upward. “Wait, were you…jealous?” A full grin graced your face, teasingly glinting at Thorin. “You didn’t like the thought of me spending the night with all the others, did you?” The dwarf shook his head at that, but you caught the smallest of smiles playing upon his face as he did so. “See? I got a smile out of you!” “You simply never cease to surprise me,” Thorin told you, resting a hand on your shoulder.

Oin

"Did I hear that right?" "You sure did," you told him, elbowing him as you settled against his side, the warmth of the healer's coat. "Well, aren't ye a saucy lass?" He laughed heartily. "What was that Freya thinking?" Shrugging, you told him, "I don't think it was her idea. Remember, those naughty dwarves would not accept her treasures.” “I would say they did!” Oin burst out into another laugh, putting his hands up. “But I guess you caught me there. We know how to have a little fun, us dwarvenkind!” “Do you now?” You asked, leaning forward with your chin resting on your fist. For all his hearing difficulties, Oin didn’t miss a beat that time. “Come to the healer’s tent for a little checkup and I daresay you’ll find out.”

Gloin

Gloin had laughed with the rest of them, but now he was snorting to himself. Taking a seat at his side, you asked him what that was about. “So they denied the treasure of a goddess? Bloody fools those dwarves were!” Hands on your hips, you leaned in closer to frown right at Gloin. “Some romantic you are!” “I don’t think romance had anything to do with it,” he pointed out with a sardonic smile, “But if it did? Oh, I would give every jewel, every coin in the kingdom to be with my One for but an hour! Time like that shines brighter than all the wealth of the mines!” Lips parting wordlessly, you stared at the auburn-haired dwarf, blinking once, twice. “Well, how’d I do?” He asked with a grin, resting a gloved hand gently upon your knee. “Enough romance for you?” You licked your lips and nodded, prompting him to connect the space between your lips. “Good,” he said in a low voice as you separated, “That story gave me a couple ideas. Four nights and all. I don’t fancy sharin’, though.”

Bifur

Chuckling to yourself, you made to look for a seat, noticing many members of the company parting rapidly to make room for you but choosing the spot next to Bifur, who smiled at you as he whittled. "Did you like that story?" You turned and asked him. Looking up for just a moment from the round shape he was carving, Bifur nodded eagerly, smiling at you beneath his braided mustache. Chuckling, you just settled in, your arm resting against his. "Well, good." Sparing glances at his whittling between other conversation, you caught a series of interconnected shapes and finally inquired as to his creation. "What are you making?" What he said you could not understand, but the small series of connected circles were held above his head and down, pantomiming draping it around his neck. "Is that... a necklace?" Gaze opening even bigger, you smiled wide and wicked into Bifur's hazel eyes. Lips quirking upward, he nodded and made to hand it to you before playfully yanking it away. What could you say? He knew what he wanted.

Bofur

“Well, well, well!” A weight and a warmth settled at your side after you’d selected a seat, one conveniently without any of the neighbors eagerly waving you over. Just the one you’d been hoping for, in fact, the sight of Bofur next to you with eager eyes and raised eyebrows brought a smile to your face. “You can’t go running off after a story like that!” “Where would you have me go, then,” you asked, “My dear Bofur?” “If I’m being honest, to bed with me, but I haven’t a single pretty thing to offer you. Just my toys and my trusty hat.” His words were joking, but his voice was almost…sad? “You think I want all that? I’m no goddess, Bofur,” you replied, “I like my campfires and saucy tales. I like a good night with someone I care about. And most of all, I love your toys and your hat.” “Really?” He leaned forward, hands gripping the log at his sides as he grinned, eyes darting this way and that over you.” “Really,” you answered, “Now are you going to kiss me or do I have to?”

Bombur

Bombur addressed you softly as you settled at his side, accepting him as your neighbor due to him being one of the few you trusted after a tale like that. Not to mention him being the most comfortable one or how sweet he was. Sure enough, his voice was as warm as ever, but gentler as he asked you, “Those dwarves must’ve been pretty dashing, eh?” “Something like that,” you answered, eyes sliding away from his teasingly. “What d’you suppose they might’ve looked like?” “Oh, great beards for sure,” you told him, “No doubt about that. I like to imagine them with fiery hair but hearts that burn with a much more tender light.” “That the kind of dwarf you could spend the night with?” Bombur asked, hazel eyes glowing with hope. “Indeed,” you answered with a smile, “I think I could.”

Dori

"So she really went through with it?" Glancing up from the steam curling out of your tin cup into Dori's blue eyes, you shrugged. "According to the old tale." Nose wrinkling, the dwarf sat next to you, careful not to disturb his own warm mug. "That's disgusting! Where is the respect?" The dwarves' for Freya or Freya for herself you were unsure; either way your reply was the same. "They offered, she accepted," you answered with a shrug before gazing back up at him, eyes sliding over the flutter of his lashes as he took a sip of evening tea, his lips gripping the mug's edge, "And besides, maybe she had just been waiting for an excuse to be with one of them." At that, Dori lowered his drink and fixed you with an intent look. "What are you saying? Do you mean to imply that-” “Yes,” you cut him off, “Yes, I am.” “I don’t have any necklaces,” Dori told you, raising a hand almost defensively. “But what,” you asked him, pushing the mug in his other hand gently down below his face, “Might you do if you had?” “I- I don't suppose I would need it that badly. If- if you liked it.” Eyes darting rapidly to your lips, Dori gave you his full attention.

Nori

"Nice night, isn't it, Freya? Oops, I mean-" Covering his mouth with his hand, Nori feigned innocence and correcting to your name, eyes sliding very deliberately to yours. "What's this?" You shot back, crossing your arms. "Are we dreaming again?" "Come on," Nori procured and swigged from his hip flask, an arm thrown casually over the rock at his back, "You can't deny there was some, shall we say, subliminal messaging in your little faery story there?" “Perhaps you were just projecting,” you countered, lowering into the seat at his side. “Twasn’t I who felt the need to tell us all about some lass ‘n her love of all things dwarfkind. And I do mean all things.” He added, punctuating his statement with a wink. “Are you trying to convince me your folk have some tricks up their sleeves?” "Not exactly up our sleeves." "For Mahal's sake," Gloin called out, "I'll give you the bloody jewels myself if you two just throw a blanket out in the woods and get this over with yourselves!" At that, Nori simply cast out an arm like a humble servant, although his expression could only be described as that of an eager housecat when you smiled back at him.

Ori

Twas Ori that came to you, taking you by surprise at his look of eager questioning. "So when you say Freya spent the night with them, you mean she..." He didn't need to go any further; you simply nodded as he trailed shyly off, brown eyes drifting down to the earth. "As the legend goes." "Those aren't real dwarves!" He replied, knitted gloved hands curling into fists as he looked back up. "Real dwarves would respect a lady far more than that! They would offer her gems in gratitude and celebration of one so fair." All teasing melted from your face in favor of a wide, soft smile. "Oh, Ori, any lady would be lucky to have you by her side. You're a gem in and of yourself." "You really think so?" He beamed. "I know so," you answered with a nod. "Wh- When we get to Erebor, I’m going to find you the biggest jewel I can get my hands on!” Ori burst out, hastily amending it. “Besides the Arkenstone, of course. Thorin would get jealous seeing how much prettier you are.” His earnest tone had your heart fluttering, let alone the way he smiled at you. "Well, then it is I who is luckiest."

Fili

“I would not be so confident, brother. Isn’t that right?” You’d hardly been listening until you heard Fili address you by name, head snapping up the blonde prince’s way instantly. “What was that?” “See? She ignored you,” Fili quipped to his brother before facing you again. They’d both been sitting casually by the fire, legs thrown apart and boots resting slightly raised on rocks or other forest debris as they conversed. The moment you chimed in, though, the brothers leaned forward with their full attention focused on you. “When we arrive at the Lonely Mountain, we’ll both be picking something out for you,” Fili continued. He couldn’t mean…. “Well… thank you?” You answered, hesitating slightly. Every trace of hesitation, however, melted away when the prince added the next comment. “Necklaces. Unless you’d prefer a ring?” “Necklaces are fine by me,” you answered, fully confident in your understanding, “But aren’t you a little bold assuming I’ll want two?” “That,” Fili replied without a moment’s hesitation, grey eyes glinting, “Is why you’ll have to choose.” “Don’t worry, my gems will be a much more impressive cut! Just as you might expect,” Kili chimed in. “But mine will shine much brighter,” Fili retorted, turning back to you, “What do you say?”

Kili

"Oh," Kili spoke your name, "Just wait until we reach the Lonely Mountain, you'll see." "See what?" You asked, raising a brow at the eager-faced dwarf prince. "How much bigger our jewels are. Much bigger than any Bringer-Men." "Brísingamen," you corrected with a laugh, shaking your head at Kili's excitement. "You'll see. When the light strikes them just right, they shine like the very stars in the sky. No, brighter still. They shine almost as bright as your eyes.” Feeling a flush rise to your cheeks, you frown slightly at the black-haired prince. “What is all this?” “I’m saying if you want a necklace, I can find you one,” Kili replies in a low voice. “Oh,” you answer, smirking, “It better be the biggest one you can find.” "You know that's what I have waiting for you: the biggest one you can find." He was proud of that one. You could tell. All you could do was smile widely and shake your head... At least, that was, until Fili approached you. "Oy, bugger off," Kili called, "She's already getting a necklace from me!" "Not if I get one first." "Who says? I'm faster. Mine'll be bigger!" "Says who?" "Says Kili," you chimed in with a smirk. "See? She wants one from me!" You could have chimed in with the reminder that you were not the goddess Freya, but watching the brotherly spat complete with a budding slap fight was too entertaining. Sitting back with satisfaction, your eyes darted over the metaphorical carnage, the only thoughts in your head being of how flattered you were as the subject of the princes' fight.

Bilbo

"So," Bilbo started awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, "All those dwarves, eh?" "For Freya, I suppose," you replied, shrugging and taking up the stick to stoke the fire before looking back up at the hobbit, "I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It was just a bit of fun for all them. I knew they'd all have a laugh." "No, no, it was good," Bilbo shook his head and put up his hands, an aura still as tense and searching stretched across his sweet, warm features, "Very- very funny. I especially liked the way you told it. Riveting. You really are good at it, you know. Storytelling." "You heard all that and the foremost thing you got," you asked, "Was me?" "Well," Bilbo fidgeted, hands wringing as the trees suddenly got very fascinating, "I just couldn't stop thinking about- That is, I suppose I was wondering if you told them that in hopes that they would, you know. Want to... act it out. And I have no doubt they would." Bubbling up from your chest before you could stop it was a laugh, one great and high and sharp laugh of pure disbelief. "Well, perhaps they would, but you wouldn’t catch me taking them up on it in an age! None of them are exactly my sort,” you replied. “And here I thought you were thick as thieves! If you don’t mind my asking,” Bilbo inquired, pulling his pipe from a pocket within the folds of his coat, “What is your sort, then?” “Are hobbits good craftsmen?” You asked in response, leaning forward with another grin.

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[freemilkshakesposts]

You Remind Me Of A Campfire

⚠️Warning ⚠️: Sexual content (18+) MDNI

Levi x Reader (Smut + Fluff)

Summary: After a grueling expedition, you find yourself alone with Captain Levi in an abandoned cabin. With a heart full of unspoken feelings, you wonder if this moment could be your chance to reach him. Will you finally break through to the captain's heart?

The ancient walls of the decrepit cabin groaned under the relentless assault of the storm outside. Inside, the warm, almost sinister glow of the fireplace cast erratic, dancing shadows across the room, weaving an eerie, intimate tapestry. Levi reclined in a battered leather chair, his eyes transfixed by the flickering flames, his mind lost in labyrinthine thoughts. The expedition had been a merciless ordeal, driving the team to seek sanctuary in this isolated refuge for the night.

The room was deathly silent, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the expedition, save for the soft, sounds of breathing echoing against the sheltered walls. For Levi, it was a symphony. That silence, a rare treasure, a fleeting moment of peace amidst the chaos.

But the hush that enveloped the room was abruptly ruptured by the ominous creak of the door, revealing a looming silhouette cloaked in darkness. He recognised that figure all too well, a constant presence in his world.

"Come over here," he commanded, his voice slicing through the air like a sharpened blade, his gaze remaining fixated on the fire, unperturbed by the intrusion upon his solitude.

Silent steps guided themselves to the captain's location, the seductive dance of flames consuming the cold, empty cabin. They settled across from the fire, enveloped in its sensual flicker. The warm breath of the blaze teased their senses, its allure, an intoxicating embrace they could not deny. The fire's pull was irresistible, an invitation to lose themselves in its mesmerising glow.

"Here," Levi whispered, as he enveloped you in a thin blanket, a cocoon of warmth that swallowed the icy tendrils of the night, leaving only the echo of their absence behind.

Silence hung heavy, a taut wire between you, charged with the unspoken and the unspeakable, as you both stared into the flames, mesmerised by their dance.

Outside, the storm raged, a symphony of chaos, but within these walls, it was just the two of you, enmeshed in a world of your own making. The tranquility was deceptive, the silence suffocating, each second a mounting pressure.

I need air.

Gathering your courage, you shattered the oppressive stillness. "Levi, thank you for everything today. I don't know how we would have made it without you."

He shrugged, casually brushing off the praise, but beneath the veneer, a glint of vulnerability danced in his eyes—a fleeting glimpse of humanity in his unyielding façade. "Just doing what's expected," he murmured, the tension thickening the air between us.

Fuck, the urge to penetrate his icy demeanour was overwhelming, like an invisible force in the room urging you to shatter his façade, to delve deep into the enigma of Captain Levi, to strip away the layers and uncover just Levi. What's there to lose anyway?

Taking a deep breath, you reached out and touched his hand, feeling the rough callouses, the faint chill of the weather still clinging to them. "You always take care of us," you murmured, your voice slicing through the quiet. "But who takes care of you?"

Levi's eyes widened imperceptibly, a crack in his stoic mask—uncharacteristic vulnerability flickering briefly. For a moment, you wondered if you'd pushed too far, but then he turned his hand over, clasping yours. "No one," he confessed softly. "Not for a long time."

You stepped closer, and the dense air that had kept you apart finally dissolved. The roar of the storm outside faded into oblivion, leaving only the crackling of the fire and the rhythmic sound of your breathing. "Let me," you whispered, your voice trembling with a palpable, almost desperate need. "Let me take care of you tonight."

His gaze softened at your abrupt request. With deliberate poise, he adjusted his stance and lightly tapped his thigh. You smirked, heart racing as you positioned yourself upon him.

At last, you were near enough to fully appreciate Levi's grandeur, especially those rare, exquisite blue eyes—so flawless, akin to a pristine sky, devoid of distraction, a blank canvas for meticulously crafting aspirations.

A shiver ran down your spine as his finger traced your jawline, his gaze scrutinising your presence, a fucking beauty, he mused, relishing a long-awaited moment, just as you have yearned for this for so long.

In an instant, you seized his shirt, and swiftly, his lips collided with yours in a urgent union. The world dissolved into nothingness as you melded together, mouths opening and closing with voracious hunger, hands moving feverishly, exploring, clutching, dragging each other closer. Before long, you found yourselves entangled in each other's arms, dismantling the barriers around your hearts under the moonlit canopy of the old cabin. His lips claimed every part of you: mouth, neck, every inch. He consumed you, and you consumed him, your arms tightly wrapped around his body, finding solace in him through that endless night.

"You just can't get enough of me, can you? Addicted to the way I make you feel," he growled into your ear, punctuating his words with a hard thrust that tore a cry from your lips, painting the air with beautiful, raw sounds.

Yes. You loved it. He was your campfire- warm, comforting, familiar. An oasis of relief in a world that often felt cold and indifferent.

"L-Levi," you gasped between his relentless thrusts, "I love you-God, I love you so fucking much," you spat, each word fracturing as pleasure surged, the tightly coiled rope in your abdomen unraveling, propelling you over the edge. Your thighs quaked; you were so fucking close. Levi smirked at the sight of your glazed eyes, then drew your face to his, seizing your lips once more, swallowing your moans as you both shattered into each other, your ecstasies merging into one overwhelming climax.

He was your blazing beacon, an inferno you dared not extinguish. Levi, however, would never admit the same—he's already lost so much, his heart remains partially caged. Only when you utterly destroy those barriers will he be free to confess his love, perhaps when the world is liberated from fear. Tonight, he just wanted to be taken care of, to surrender to the comfort you offered, if only for a moment.

[yeowangies]

mutual understanding

Chapter I: The butt of the joke | II | III | IV | V

PAIRING: Kenpachi/AFAB!Reader CONTENTS: AU - Fantasy, Medieval, Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Pining, Explicit Sexual Content in later chapters. WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: None. WORDCOUNT: 3914

Summary:

Marrying a complete stranger was something you had come to terms years ago, but marrying Kenpachi Zaraki, out of all the possible options, was something you didn’t want to settle with. No matter that he had saved your life, you weren't going into the marriage happily, even more so, you were afraid he would be a brute in every aspect of the word.

To your own surprise, however, no one had ever treated you better.

Notes:

So uh. Hello. I started writing this a few months ago and I didn't think it'd be so long so, it's a kenpachi chaptered fic now lmao

This is heavily inspired by the webnovel 'under the oak tree', though only inspired. If any of you had read it, you'll notice the similarities and how small they are.

As a medieval au, I tried to write with a manner of speech according to it mainly for the reader character, but I might be a little stiff for that lmao

This will have smut (in the 3rd chapter if i calculated everything right), so if you're waiting for it, it's coming 💖 For now, this chapter works as an introduction and setting to the rest of the plot!

header by me, divider by @/benkeibear

You rolled your eyes, frustrated, as you waited in the corridor for your father to come out of his office, with a speech prepared in your head to dissuade him from making this arrangement happen. 

Marrying a complete stranger was something you had come to terms years ago, but marrying Kenpachi Zaraki, out of all the possible options, was something you didn’t want to settle with. There was only so much you could do against such an union, but you had nothing to lose, so talking your father out of it was probably the last and only resort. 

“Father,” You called out for him, loud enough to make him look at you once he walked out of the room. He only kept walking as you chased after him, holding onto your dress as each of your steps resonated in the hallway. “I beg of you, please do not let this union take place!”

“Why should I do such a thing?” He asked, voice cold, not even presenting you with a quick glance as he kept on walking. 

“I do not wish to marry that man!” 

“I am the one who decides who is to become your spouse, however.”

“I understand that, but please, I must insist!”

He came to a full stop once he reached the door towards the banquet hall, and you tried to catch your breath as he turned to look at you with a stern look. 

“What do you have against him? Kenpachi Zaraki saved your life, if you must remember, my child.”

“I remember it perfectly well, but… giving him my hand in marriage as payment is atrocious to me, Father!”

“Surely you are not suggesting not to reward his actions.” He quirked an eyebrow in your direction. You knew you were testing your father’s patience at this point. “You are the princess of this kingdom, or have you forgotten?”

“His honorable actions deserve every reward possible, and we must not repair expenses if he demands food, or treasures, or perhaps a bigger fief than the one he already has. But, please, give him my life in exchange? You cannot be serious.”

“If I did not know you well enough, my child, I would assume you have a vendetta against him.”

“A vendetta!” You repeated, amused and exasperated at the same time, and you couldn’t help but raise your voice when you went on. “Father, he is a barbarian! He is violent and does not even seem to know any rules regarding etiquette!”

“Let me remind you that he is incredibly powerful too.” Your father said, as serious as always, not paying attention to any of your objections. “So powerful that even without belonging to a royal family, he has his own army. People who follow him, who are loyal to his physical strength and character. Kenpachi Zaraki would be a great ally to have if we ever have to face a conflict with our neighboring kingdoms, as it had happened in the past. And there is no safer place for you to be than with the strongest man in this land.”

The political agenda weighed heavily in this situation. You assumed that was the case, but you have just been explicitly told that was probably the main reason behind this marriage, and you couldn’t argue anymore. At a loss of words, you let your father turn to leave towards the banquet hall, sparing you a daring look before walking in. 

You sighed, clenching your fists in defeat. No other argument you could have possibly said would change this predicament.

When you walked into the hall moments later, you were taken aback to see Kenpachi talking to your father, in the most casual manner.

“I do not need a wife.” Kenpachi said through gritted teeth, emphasizing every word with anger. “I don’t want one!”

“Do not be so unreasonable, Zaraki,” Your father replied dismissively. “You will need someone to care for your fief while you are away.”

You had to control the urge to roll your eyes this time. 

“My people do that just fine!”

“It has already been arranged. I will not take any more objections. I am being more than lenient with you, Zaraki, considering your past activities, I am willing to overlook them for this union that will benefit us both.”

“I do not give a crap about that.” Kenpachi replied, low and intimidating, but you still couldn’t help but look at him with eyes wide open when he cursed like that so openly in front of you and the king. 

Kenpachi clicked his tongue as he turned to leave, looking at you with a glare when he strode past you, and slamming the door shut. For such an antic complaint, you wondered why he didn’t stand his ground more, he certainly could if he truly didn’t want this union. 

As much spunk you had in you to face situations like these, his size and imposing aura just left you breathless. You barely even reached his chest when he walked past you. You were terrified he might just accidentally kill you by simply putting a hand on you. 

“Father, please, please!” You turned to your father with imploring eyes. “I beg you, do not let this happen!”

“My child, if you have any more objections, I would be glad to hear them, but you better have a spectacular argument.” He said to you, frustrated yet purposely mocking you.

“He is just… so old!” 

You turned red when your father suddenly laughed.

“Oh, other royal men choose their spouse much, much younger than you, when they are even older than Zaraki himself!”

“I am well aware that it happens…”

You sighed again, completely given up, as you turned around.

*

The wedding ceremony took place almost two weeks later. Knowing what little you knew about Kenpachi, you were surprised he didn’t take off before the date. 

He was cold during the service, and barely looked at you during the banquet. He must have hated this arrangement as much as you did or even more by the way he kept glaring at everyone who even tried to talk to him, and you were left in charge of exchanging niceties with the guest wishing you good luck in this new period of your life. 

You couldn’t help but wonder constantly about what your father mentioned, even as you were in the middle of a ball with a room full of people. ‘Past activities’. Whatever did he mean by that? You knew your father merely saw you as a political tool, but you were concerned he had actually sold you to a man who could physically harm you. 

It was inevitable not to dwell on that, especially as you were getting ready for the wedding night. With your maids trading comments about how happy they were that you were married, but concerned that Kenpachi was such a big man with such a stern expression, it was difficult to relax. Their worries had been your own for weeks, and it was only making it worse to hear other people comment on them. You kept your words to yourself however, not dismissing their conversation, as they brushed your hair and helped you change into your nightgown. 

You weren’t clueless about what couples did in the intimacy of their bedrooms, but no matter how much you knew, you had never experienced it. It was almost impossible to hide your nerves; you only knew so much about this man, and what little you knew only made you more worried. 

Kenpachi practically burst the door open, getting you out of your head and making you and your maids jump from surprise. 

“Leave us.” He demanded, fixing his eyes on you as your servants scurried away. 

You bit your lip, looking at Kenpachi with what little courage you had at that moment before standing up from the chair by the vanity. You had only seen him wearing different kinds of armors throughout his stay at the palace, but to see him in only a tunic and pants made you realize how muscular and thick he naturally was. His gaze was smoldering as you approached the bed, carefully lying on it as gracefully as you could, trying not to show how nervous you truly were. He was sitting on the bed in the blink of an eye, and you closed your eyes when you felt the mattress shift as he took off his tunic. 

“Fucking unwilling women isn’t really my style.” He said, making you open your eyes to meet his briefly. “Do you want this or not?”

Apparently you were doing a terrible job at hiding your anxiety. 

Looking at him when he was completely shirtless only distracted you more, and you swallowed loudly before attempting to speak, but only an unintelligible babble came out of your mouth. Kenpachi clicked his tongue, and when he averted his eyes, you feared he might walk out of the room. If he did, not only would the unconsummated marriage fall apart, but you’d be terribly and publicly humiliated. 

When he brought his thumb to his lips, biting it hard enough to draw blood, you stared at him with eyes wide open. He let the blood drip onto the sheets in the middle of the bed before wiping off his finger, a crimson stain forming immediately. You were too confused to react when he reached for your nightgown, pulling it over your thighs before pinching the skin there, strong enough to make it hurt. 

A loud squeak came from your mouth, and you instinctively swatted his hand away, sitting up and pulling back. 

“Why did you do that?!” You asked, soothing your thigh with your hand over your gown. 

“Why do you think?” Kenpachi replied with a smirk, entertained by your reaction. “That slap you gave me wasn’t so bad.”

“Well, you hurt me!”

“We’re even then.”

You looked at him, confused by his words, as he lay on the bed beside you, kicking off his boots. 

It took you staring at the blood stain on the bed for a minute as you rubbed your thigh to fully understand what had just happened. A priest would come and check if the marriage had been consummated the next morning, and there was proof. The little yell you let out would convince anyone who might have been listening outside.

Kenpachi had just let you out of a situation you weren’t ready for, without even a second thought. 

“Thank you.” You said softly, looking at him as he closed his eyes. 

“Just go to sleep and let this day be over with.”

You hummed in agreement, relaxing even more when you noticed he wasn’t going to try and touch you at all. You lay beside him, taking a quick glance in his direction as you got comfortable, covering yourself with the blankets and turning to the side so as not to face him. 

*

Leaving the palace you had grown up in was difficult but you knew it was coming as soon as the wedding ceremony was over. 

The morning after the wedding night, your maids had already prepared most of your luggage, and by noon you were already on a carriage, on your way to Kenpachi Zaraki’s fief. Him and all his men traveled by horse, the only privilege of having a nice comfortable seat was given to you as the only woman. 

You caught some topics of conversation here and there. How hilarious it was that Kenpachi had gotten a wife without even trying and your difference in age and size were the most common. It made you chuckle to even hear comparisons like ‘beauty and the beast’. But what got your attention the most was the name that occasionally popped up, ‘Yachiru’. 

‘Yachiru was waiting for them.’ ‘One of the few times Yachiru did not accompany Kenpachi.’ ‘Yachiru must feel lonely all by herself in the castle.’

You were starting to wonder if maybe Kenpachi wasn’t as single as he seemed, and that’s why he refused to marry you initially. A woman waiting for him at his fief could only mean one thing, and anger bubbled up inside you. It wasn’t uncommon for men to have other women outside their marriage, but it was unfair that he had one while you were getting married. 

“Why are you sulking?” Kenpachi asked you while you looked out the window, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I am not doing such a thing.” You replied, even though you knew you were.

“We’ll get to my place by night, put up with it until then.”

His horse went up ahead as you stared at him, still surprised by his lack of finesse in his words. 

True to them, however, you reached his fief after nightfall, when you were hungry, and most importantly, ready to sleep. You didn’t even have the energy to pay attention to your new home, though the darkness was making it difficult to even look at it in detail.

“Wait here, I’ll get food.” Kenpachi said once you were both in what would be your shared bedroom from then on. 

The chamber was dark with a high ceiling, stone walls keeping the light away, with only one big window that made moonlight crept in. It was warm due to the fireplace, which you assumed the help probably started earlier. To your own surprise, it was spacious, with even an ample desk with a chair; and the bed was big enough to comfortably fit three people, with soft blankets and covers made out of fur. 

It wasn’t the kind of room you expected from a man like Kenpachi. 

When he came back a few moments later, carrying a tray with plates for the both of you, you practically gulped down everything on it as soon as you had it in your hands, forgetting about being polite and delicate for a second. 

“So you can eat.” Kenpachi teased you with a smirk.

“I apologize,” You said with your mouth full, slowing down for only a second to drink water. “I was just famished.”

“Why are you saying sorry?” He asked, looking at you curiously. “You royals are too complicated. If you’re hungry, eat.”

“Truer words have never been spoken.” You replied, tasting the bread on the side, that was made recently, still warm and soft on the inside. 

You didn’t exchange words while you both finished your meals, and you eyed him with intrigue every once in a while. Kenpachi seemed just as hungry as you were, swallowing down everything faster than you, and drinking what was probably wine from his cup. He lacked manners, you knew he did, but it only made the situation more endearing. 

His lack of social graces made it difficult for you to like him at the beginning; he seemed aloof at best, or completely ill-mannered at worst. But maybe you had looked at him wrong. You’ll have the rest of your life to figure it out. 

“Can I get a maid to help me get undressed?” You asked once he removed the plates from the bed. 

“The maids are sleeping. I didn’t know you needed help for that.” Kenpachi stared at you blankly for a second too long and you inevitably blushed.

Ashamed, you remained quiet, avoiding his eyes. You didn’t want to ask for his help in removing your dress, but you couldn’t do it alone. 

“Can you help me then, please?” You finally asked, looking at him with embarrassment.

His gaze remained on you, unfazed for a moment, before he nodded and gestured to you to come closer. You stood in front of him while he sat on the bed, and turned around, holding your hair back so he could see the back of your dress. 

Kenpachi sighed loudly, and the feeling that you might be annoying him made you tense. He took his time, carefully undoing each button. You shrugged off your sleeves once he had reached the end, nervously holding onto the front of your dress. Before you could tell him to loosen the satin tapes of the corset underneath, he was already on it, hooking his fingers and undoing the knot before tugging softly at the tapes to open it up. 

Your face was hot from embarrassment for having to ask for his help, for feeling like a bother in doing so, and for exposing yourself like this. You stepped away once he was done with the tapes, and while you held tightly onto your dress to prevent it from falling, you looked at him over your shoulder. 

“Can you turn around, please?”

Raising a brow, Kenpachi eyed you up and down before getting up from the bed and turning towards the fireplace, keeping his back to you. 

“I don’t even get why you’re making a fuss,” He said, removing his boots. “I saw you in your sleepwear yesterday.”

“It is not the same situation.” You replied quietly, as you quickly shrugged off your dress, letting it fall to your feet before shimmying your way out of your corset. 

“What’s the difference? I’m gonna be seeing you undress for the rest of our lives.”

You gulped loudly, but didn’t reply. 

Once you removed your bottoms, you were left in your tunic, tying the tapes in the front so no skin from your chest was visible. 

“You can turn around now.”

When you looked at Kenpachi, his shirt was gone, and that only made your face blush harder. He scanned your shape with his eyes quickly before sighing, approaching the bed and lying down on it. 

“Come on, let’s sleep, I’m beat.”

You nodded, though you didn’t think he even noticed, as he closed his eyes as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

Sliding on the opposite side, you covered yourself with the blankets, and turned to your side, your back to him like the night before. 

“Good night.” You whispered quietly, and closed your eyes.

*

When you woke up the next day, the sun was already high up, and Kenpachi seemed to have woken up a long time ago by how cold the side of the bed was. You took the opportunity to explore your new home as soon as you finished breakfast, and it amazed you how enormous the castle truly was. 

Its design on the inside reminded you of a fortress, with a lot of long corridors and rooms that would make anyone lose themselves in there if they were to go deeper. Or perhaps it was just you; the castle was mostly made of stone with only a few windows, and every corner looked exactly the same. Completely different from the palace you used to live in that had tall windows with luxurious decorations and items in every wall. It would take some getting used to living in such a place, but you really couldn’t complain about it; it was still a big castle that offered you comfort and security. 

As you headed downstairs to explore the outside, you stopped in your tracks when you heard some maids talking to each other as they passed by. 

“Yachiru was her usual cheerful self now that Sir Zaraki was back.”

You frowned as you kept walking, offended that everyone in the castle seemed to know that your brand new husband had another woman. One that had been with him long before you knew it. 

You didn’t really care if Kenpachi had other women, you even expected it since he didn’t have any intention to marry you in the first place. But you hoped he was at least careful about it so the entire world wouldn’t find out. Apparently it was a little too late for that. 

The garden left a lot to be desired. As you walked through it, overgrown grass and weed invaded most of it, and even the trail was uneven. While you headed towards the training grounds, you already decided to ask Kenpachi for permission to fix it. 

The training area was spacious, and currently occupied by almost every boisterous soldier Kenpachi had under his command. Dust flew in the air as they yelled and exchanged sword blows, blood occasionally splattering on the ground, and you stood, mesmerized by how eager to fight these men were. Violence only attracted more violence, and there was the proof that Kenpachi Zaraki only attracted more people who were exactly the way he was. 

But you were shocked to your core when you saw a little girl in the middle of it all, her pretty pink hair contrasting the atmosphere and uniforms of all the men. 

“What are you doing here?” 

You jumped when you heard Kenpachi’s voice beside you, and he stared at you, impassive, when you turned to him. 

“I-I was just… getting to know this place.” You replied nervously. “What is that child doing there?”

“Training.”

“W-What? She is only a child!”

“And she’s stronger than most men here.” Kenpachi replied, staring at her as she swung her sword like she was playing with it. 

“Whose daughter is she?”

“Mine.”

You inevitably choked on your own saliva when you heard him and started coughing, loud enough that almost every man present turned to you, which only made blood travel to your face faster. Most of them bowed to you, but you could barely acknowledge them as you tried to recover.

A daughter? At this point you were convinced you were the butt of the joke. 

Kenpachi was staring at you between curious and amused, but he remained quiet. 

“W-When were you planning on telling me that?” You asked him once you regained your composure, covering your mouth with your hand. 

“Tell you what?”

“That you have children!”

“Oh.” Kenpachi said, as if it was the most boring thing you could be talking about, and it only made anger start to bubble inside you. “She’s not actually mine.”

“What?”

“I found her in the woods when she was a baby and took her in.”

“Oh…” You whispered, extremely embarrassed about the situation. “What is her name?”

“Yachiru.”

It all made sense then.

You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding, and stared at the group of men in front of you, who still had their eyes on you. Ashamed of introducing yourself in such circumstances, you bowed as you said your name quickly before making a quick exit and turning back to the castle. 

You knew you would have to socialize with Kenpachi’s army of men sooner or later, but you were still embarrassed they saw you red as a tomato and sputtering nonsense, so you ended up having dinner in your room. 

“Did you stay here all day?” Kenpachi asked when he walked in at night, making you jump slightly. You still couldn’t really get used to his loud gruff voice.

“Not precisely.” You replied, eying him from the bed as he took off his boots. “I explored the rest of the castle before returning here.”

He only grunted in acknowledgement before removing his shirt and eyepatch, and you averted your eyes quickly, trying not to stare at him. However, when he took a clean shirt and walked towards the door, you couldn’t help but look at him, alarmed that he was leaving. 

“I’m going to sleep in another room,” Kenpachi turned to look at you with his usual hardened expression. “You stay here.”

You couldn’t even let out a single protest as he walked out the door.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hi! I don't know if ur accepting requests, so you can ignore this if y aren't ❤️

Can I request the twisted wonderland dorm leaders with a gender neutral reader that's based on the White Rabbit?

White Rabbit | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Paranoic and really jittery; your every day normal is that of someone high on caffeine. While many would equate it to the temperament of a frantic bunny it is your every day normal. Of course the ones willing to kill for you don’t mind or maybe they do and are hoping that once your in their clutches your nervous temperment recedes:

Vil Schoenheit

“If time is the issue I’ll make sure to keep you informed.”

When you are trapped staying in your captor boyfriend’s dorm

He sets alarms for events you worry about 

While smashing or keeping your pocket watches away

That way you can’t hop to testify when the body dropped

He’ll worry about the time and he’ll worry about your makeup

You don’t need to do anything else

Riddle Rosehearts

“Yes! Your timing is impeccable (Y/n) you can never disappoint.”

Of course he appreciates your dedication to time

Always following his rules on top of that

No better place for you than by his side

His precious timekeeper

Idia Shroud

“I-i understand t-that feeling. Maybe we can isolate together!”

He figures if time is your stresser than you’ll appreciate not keeping any time at all

He’s excited to get you addicted+ to enjoy games as much as he does

Killing two major bosses in one go– you’ll always be by his side and he does get to save the ammo meant for enemies

Malleus Draconia

“We are so different. Different in size, in power–star crossed is a good name for us isn’t.”

He notices how you were so brave to approach more like too afraid to run away

He loves the speedy pitter patter of your little heart almost as much as he likes it when your sleeping+

Dragon’s aren’t known for chasing bunnies

But they are known for keeping treasures even if they do try to run

Azul Ashengrotto

“Always in a rush, wouldn’t you like some security?”

He does what he does best

Take advantage of your jumpy disposition

But this time it isn’t just to have the upper hand 

Precious little rabbits should be kept safe and sound in their pens

Predators are easier to cull that way

Leona Kingscholar

“Well that’s my herbivore, my prey. Quite the runner.”

Delights in the fact he can chase you around and blame it on you just being the scaredy bunny you are

But he loves it most how you recognize his hunger, twitch your nose, and dart away

You’re just so irresistable

[smogfromkortalmombat1]

MK1 Lin Kuei headcannons (Cute childhood edition)

Bi-Han

As a child, he was a big fiction reader. Sci-fi, mystery, there was nothing he didn't read. Non-fiction he saved purely for his studies- it bored him completely any other time.

He wasn't one for animal companionship, but he did have an exception as a child - the Lin Kuei temples had quite a few stray cats. He got quite attached to them, feeding and caring for them frequently. In return, he got lots of impromptu snuggles from them during meditation sessions.

A favourite past-time hobby of his was carving from wood. He could spend hours at his desk working away on a project. Statues of dragons and mythical creatures from the books he read all sit on a shelf in his room, handmade by him. He treasures them all dearly.

Though not a favourite hobby of his, he did take up knitting at one point, after watching his mother. He was never good at it, but he did enjoy it. He kept stacks of random wool in his room because of this.

Speaking of his mother, Bi-Han was a complete mama's boy as a child. His mother was his go-to for all things advice. He loved her dearly.

Kuai Liang

He loved cooking as a kid- mostly the eating part, but he enjoyed the satisfaction of making his own dish, just how he wanted it. He was, and still is, a massive fan of spicy food. If he can still feel his tongue, it isn't spicy enough.

He had a fascination with wildlife growing up- especially inverts like scorpions and tarantulas. He kept many in his room as a hobby over the years. As a child, he could spew fact upon fact about each creature like a crazy man, going on for literal hours if you let him.

His favourite animal he ever kept was an Emperor scorpion. He let Tomas name him, which resulted in the abomination that is Sprinkles Jr. Despite her awful name, Kuai loved and cared for her well.

Had very little patience for a lot of things as a kid compared to his adult self. He always had to be on the move, doing something he deemed fun or exciting, rather than things that were demanded of him- for example, studying or meditating. He tried, of course, but he struggled with it for the longest time until eventually he cooled down with age.

Total daddy's boy. Absolutely adored his father growing up, and strongly idolised him. He still does as an adult.

Tomas

His native tongue is Czech, but as a child he knew bits of Russian and German. He also knew bits and pieces of English, though not nearly as well. He joined the family not knowing Chinese at all, and had to be taught. Luckily, he picked it up fairly quickly.

His favourite animal as a child were foxes. He also adored big, goofy dogs- the fluffier the better.

Most of his childhood clothes (before his grey clothing choice was finalised) were hand-me-downs from his older brothers. This meant, for a long while, Tomas wandered around in a weird dual mix of old, faded blues and yellows.

The first trick he ever learnt with his smoke magic was how to levitate, though it was an accident and out of his control, for the most part. He used to freak both Kuai Liang and Bi-Han out by randomly floating upwards sometimes, or, even worse, randomly falling out of the sky, leading to one of them having to run and catch him.

He was a mama's boy as a kid, with both his blood mother and adoptive mother. He loves them both dearly.

Thank you for reading have a gif:

[stayconnecteed]

han jisung drabble    —   999 words !

⠀⠀⠀for the ❛ drabble event ❜⠀﹙ requested by @hanjsquokka ﹚⠀fluff, "no one had ever done that for me before"

22 : 13⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀by the time jisung had emerged from the bathroom, leaving behind a smeared mirror and chaotically arranged skin care products, the clock marked past ten o'clock at night. it was a friday, and although his friends had invited him to the pub to chat for a few hours with bottles of soju and beer coming and going from their table, he had turned them down. well, rather than declining, he had offered an apologetic smile that hid how tired he really felt, promising to come to the next one, his social battery fading by the minute.

but he knew the plan he didn't want to miss, and it included a movie night, his favourite food on the table and you, snuggled next to him, like a warm presence in his heart that never left him. friday evenings in your apartment always started the same way: as soon as you heard the keys open the door, you came out of whatever room you were in to greet him with a big hug. and he would open his arms, wrapping them around you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, leaving kisses on your skin while you giggled because it tickled you.

you watched him hurriedly take off his sneakers, leaving his bag in the part of the hall wardrobe you had freed for him when you had started to date, and he didn't leave your side for a moment, his arms holding you, hands on your pockets, embracing you as he trailed behind you down the corridor. and while you carried to the bathroom one of the hoodies you had stolen from him, and some of the sweatpants he kept at your place for such occasions, he would tell you about his day.

and you always listened to him actively, asking questions in the right silences, laughing at his jokes and frowning when he told you about some angsty anecdote. and he would get lost in his words, too busy watching your reactions, too distracted by you, by your kisses and your giggles and your gestures, until you looked at him with those eyes and asked him what happened next. and he would intertwine your fingers with his, craving your warmth against his skin, and keep talking, sometimes even as he showered, you sitting on the counter and his voice echoing off the tiled walls.

that friday you had been too focused on the kitchen to follow him into the bathroom in your little tradition, but every time your humming reached his ears as you finished cooking dinner, he couldn't stop thinking that as soon as he finished, he would thank you for everything you always did for him. not only that night, when you were also tired from a week of work that had seemed interminable, but every little detail that you had with him, and that he treasured in his memories. he always considered himself the luckiest man ever for having found you, but every time he had you with him it was a confirmation.

so when he walked through the apartment from your bathroom to the kitchen, following the delicious smell coming from the pot you held in your hands, and saw you, hair dishevelled, still in the outfit you had worn to work, running your hand over your forehead in a tired gesture, he was the one who took the pot, putting it back on the stove, and gently pushed you into the hallway. he distracted you with tender kisses, feather soft on your cheeks and lips, saying it was your turn in the shower. you mumbled something about how you could have showered together to save water, but you listened.

and while he listened to the water flowing in the bathroom, he tidied up the kitchen. wrapped in his hoodie, which still smelled of you from the last time you had worn it, he tried to clean up the living room a bit, vacuuming the sofas, arranging your books and cds, folding the clothes you had left in a pile on your bed because you were too busy. dragging the slippers on the wooden floor, he carried the bowls with the dinner you had prepared to place them on the table in front of the tv, selecting the show you were watching together and playing one of your playlists in the background while you didn't come back.

it was worth it as soon as your confused gesture peeked through the door, asking him if he had been the one to put your clothes away in the closet. and when you saw everything he had done while you let your tiredness and all the accumulated stress slide out of your body like dirty water leaving your shower down the drain, your eyes crystallised. you knew it was the bare minimum, because after all he lived in your house too ーoccasionallyー but he had caught you by surprise.

for once in your life it hadn't been you who had to do everything, for once it had been someone else who had helped you, and suddenly the gentle way your boyfriend was holding you contained so much love and so much affection that you felt it overflowed, slipping through your fingers without knowing what to do with it. and as his hands wrapped around your waist, locked in an embrace you didn't want to part from, your bodies rocking to the melody the speakers were crooning, you whispered into the fabric covering his chest, right over his heart: “no one had ever done that for me before”.

and a content hum later, after his lips left a kiss on your forehead, tightening his grip as if he thought that at any moment you might run away, you felt his jaw move over your head, "perks of being your last, right?" a breathy chuckle of his, the kind you liked so much, moving along with you, "i have the privilege to be your first for some stuff".

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