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ision · 3 months ago

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MIDNIGHT PROTECTOR (~_~;)

ft jackson

☆¸¸ .•*★.

"Come on Jacks," you pleaded, whispering. The phone dial rang out a few more beats, and you hastily walked into the drugstore and out of the shadowed streets. The shop floor was busier than you had expected, what with the time being too late to be comfortable—some people may have well needed a last minute, urgent skincare fix.

You nodded at the single cashier manning the counter, meeting his eye for a second before he continued scanning for the customer in front of him. With another look through the shop's glass windows out to the street outside, you weaved yourself through the aisles of shower gels and blister plasters.

"Hey, what's up? It’s late, is everything ok" Your friend's voice cuts through the ringing, and you quietly breathe out in relief. You hear rustling in the background, the receiver assumably rummaging around his bedroom.

"Jackson, I just, just stepped out to grab some food from the CVS and—are you free? Were you slee—" You pick up one of the items on display, a scented candle, hand shaking slightly as you tried to read the packaging. "No no, it’s ok, what happened? Tell me," your friend presses, you feel your strained breaths unravel at his comforting tone.

You take a sigh, trying to collect your thoughts, looking around. "Umm, I think I'm being followed," you wrap your other, unoccupied arm around yourself. You don’t hear anything in reply. "There was, is, this man. He was standing outside the CVS when I got there, and then when I was done and left, he started walking behind me." You slowly turn your head towards the glass windows of the store, trying to catch a figure in the periphery of your sight. "Now l'm at this 24/7 beauty shop and I can see him outside, he's just looking at me." “I’m sorry to ask you so late but, could you come meet me? I don’t think I’m too far from where you’re staying,” you ask, starting to feel your chest tighten and stomach turn as the shadowed man faces your direction.

“You’re location’s on, right?” Jackson speaks up, “sorry, stupid question, of course it is - I’m on my way, give me like 4 minutes. Ok?”

You bite your lip, “ok, thank you,” you breathe out. Truthfully, you had forgotten your location share was even on. Jackson’s reminder takes you back to when he insisted you two always have location share on for each other, one of you had asked the other to do so because you were both away in different countries on holiday. It was a nice way to keep tabs on each other, whilst vacationing and just generally during busy day-to-day life. It’s the first time it’s ever come in handy for a situation like this, though.

“Keep me on the line, I’ll talk as I run,” Jackson’s voice cuts through. “Is the shop empty, is there anyone else there with you?”

“Yeah, a couple people browsing and some at the till.”

“Good.”

“Thank you, Jacks, I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t pick—“

“I’ll always pick up, anyways, it’s no big deal, literally, bare minimum,” his speech comes out choppily, in staccato. You can hear his feet hitting the ground as he runs, but his breathing never hitches. “Can you hold on the line for just a minute, please? I’ll be back after,” Jackson asks.

“Yeah, of course,” you nod, staring at the paint starting to chip on your nails, and the line goes quiet.

You hadn’t met a long time ago, it had only been a few months since this housewarming party a mutual friend hosted in their fancy new apartment. There, you struck up a conversation after being introduced to each other, and you and Jackson clicked so well. Whilst being from two different worlds, you had a very corporate job whilst he lived a creative’s dream as a famous musician, you loved the same things. To an extent. And the things you didn’t share in common, had somewhat of a commonality too. He wasn’t a fan of a specific genre of film you liked, but he’d happily sit down to watch your favourite movie, without complaint.

After the first meeting went so well, you two quickly set up regular hang outs. You heard he loved a dish and wanted to try out a new recipe, so he came over for dinner. He had an event coming up, therefore he needed your expert eye on what outfit suited him and the event's dress code best. Also, it wasn't too long before your flatmate's cat fell in love with him, and you'd go on cat walks to the park together—in disguise of course.

A few minutes pass of you inspecting the bottles on display, your pretence keeping you occupied as you kept tabs on the man outside. “I’m back,” Jackson’s voice cuts through the call, his tone serious and stern. “I’m walking in now.” The call drops.

The doors to the shop slide open, and you turn to see your friend striding in. He’s adorned in all-black, some loose joggers with a black zip-up, the oversized hood hung over his head. He meets your eye, and rushes over to you.

His hair hangs low, the ends slightly wet from a shower, and he pulls his mask down a little to speak to you. “Are you ok?” Jackson’s eyes search you, his hand comes up to your shoulder. You smile at the way his frown twists in concern, “I am now you’re here, thank you.”

He rolls his eyes, “don’t thank me, I said it’s the bare minimum. Besides, how could I even say no… sorry, I’m busy, ask him to stop following you? As if—” Jackson huffs. “Speaking of, that’s the guy? Following you?” He, subtly, nods pointedly at the figure outside the window. You’re both standing somewhere deeper into the shop, no one can see you from the outside in. And, Jackson made sure to slow his walking down before turning the street corner, he wasn’t about to lose the perpetrator before he could even get him caught.

You nod, “yeah, I, I noticed he had his hand in his pocket, he kept reaching into it a couple times—I don’t know, I’m probably just being paranoid—but I think he had something in there,” your fingers fidget, clasping around your phone. You watch as Jackson’s brows furrow, his hand drops from your shoulder. “We’re staying until the police come,” he says, finally.

“Police? You called them? When?”

“I put you on hold, remember. Anyways,” Jackson takes the bag in your hand from you, filled with snacks from the CVS, “do you want anything from here, it’s on me.” You walk further into the store, looking up and down the aisles together aimlessly as you waited on the police to arrive. If you ignored the shadowed creep outside, this moment felt domestic. Your bag was even slung over his shoulder. Despite your friendship only being relatively new, you felt you had known Jackson for ages. And, there were always twinklings of other things below the surface every time you met each other. Sometimes they were moments of lasting eye contact, other times, goosebumps after lingering touches or brushes of hands. You were still feeling each other out a little, though, taking it slow to build up feelings until they’d become too strong to ignore.

Jackson looks up, noticing something from the corner of his eye, “stay here for a second,” he tells you. “Don’t move.”

You nod, intrigued as you watch him walk away. He strolls out the store, and you see him walk up to some figures in uniform. Two men. Jackson talks to them, points in another direction, and the officers walk up to the shadowed figure, Jackson looking on. The stalker attempts to make a run for it, but unfortunately for him, doesn’t get too far before the officers hold him down and detain him. The scene moves so quickly, too quick for you to process and before you blink, the officers take him away and Jackson walks back into the shop and stops in front of you.

He smiles down at you, “let’s go, I’m walking you home.”

As you walk down the street, you chat away about your day at work, updating him on some recent office gossip about a work-couple. You don’t pay much attention to the way Jackson scans your surroundings: the way he moves closer to you ever so slightly, the way his hands ready to pull you back in case a cyclist nearly runs you over as you cross the road, the way he checks to see how you’re doing, only to get distracted by the way the warm street lights make your face glow.

It’s only when he hears a bunch of rowdy teenagers run past the two of you, that you register the way his arm wraps around your shoulder, bringing you in closer, shielding you. You look up at him, much closer now than before, your brows raised a touch, “oh, thank you.” His arm around you feels heavy, but warm, and you thank him silently for not dropping it afterwards.

Jackson keeps his arm there for the remainder of the walk home, carving its presence. He keeps it there until he walks you to your door, and keeps it there until you ask him if he’d like to come in.

#got7 x reader #jackson wang x reader #jackson wang imagines #got7 jackson #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 reactions #got7 fanfic #got7 #got7 jackson wang #jackson wang

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jellyfishbug · 11 months ago

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SWEET N' SOUR

pairing. bsf!chris x reader genre. smut. MDNI. wc. [4.6k] ! not proof read.

content; candy play kinda?, slight bondage (he ties her hands with a tie for like 5 minutes), spitting, oral f receiving, fingering, p in v, unprotected (WRAP IT), big dick chris, creampie, pet names, praise kink, aftercare is not described but it is implied. first fic . . . be nice pls :)

"I've never looked more stupid in my life." I sighed, tugging at my tie uncomfortably while staring at my reflection in the mirror.

Nick frowns at me. "You look cute!" he tries. "You've had better costumes for sure, but you can pull off anything. Matt, doesn't she look nice?" Matt, who's sitting at the end of Nick's bed in his cowboy costume, glances up from his phone and looks at my reflection in the mirror before nodding slowly. "Yeah, you look nice." he mumbles. I gave him an eyebrow raise, and he shrugged at me.

"Trust me, if you looked ridiculous, i'd tell you."

Nick swats at the back of his head, putting his ref whistle in between his teeth and blowing into it loudly. "Not helpful." He says through gritted teeth, glaring in Matt's direction as the whistle falls from his mouth and hits his chest.

Roughly an hour ago, Nick had opened the door of his apartment to see me standing on the doormat completely costume-less. He frowned at the sight of my white tank top and blue jeans, and asked me something along the lines of, "are you going as half the population?". Chris, who was standing behind him on a ladder behind him attempting to hang up lights over the curtains in a white tank top himself, snickered at Nick's comment. He was holding the lights in place with one arm and the other was hanging by his side with a hammer clenched tightly in his fist. His grin showcased the two metal nails that were in between his front teeth. Matt, who had told him previously that nailing the lights would leave marks in the wall, just rolled his eyes and went back to dumping the family size bag of twix into a clear glass bowl on the counter. Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. I usually go out of my way to dress up as something creative and funny, but I've had so much shit on my plate recently that buying a costume completely slipped my mind.

So, when i pulled my phone out of my pocket in the entry-way of my apartment and saw the calendar reminder "in one hour - trip's halloween party", I sighed in defeat and decided that I didn't have nearly enough time to pull something together. But fortunately for me, once I was inside of the triplet's apartment, Nick was already brainstorming. He ended up making me put on a pair of calvin cline briefs, put a red backwards cap on my head, tied a tie around my neck and shouted "you're magic mike!" So here I stood in front of the mirror, tie loosley hanging around my neck scowling at my reflection. I folded the hem of my jeans down so that you could see the calvin's better before crossing my arms in front of my chest.

I turned around again to face Nick, "Maybe its not that bad," He grinned at me. "See! It's good, I promise." He pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns me to face the mirror, snapping a picture of the two of us next to each other. He scrolls through them with a smile on his face. "We look gr-"

The doorbell ringing interrupts him and he shoots Matt a look. "Tell Chris to get his ass downstairs, people are starting to get here."

It didn't take long for the apartment to be full of people. Some familiar faces, some people i'd never met. Half of them weren't even wearing costumes. When I realized this, I gave Nick a look, my expression saying "i didnt even need to dress up", but he shook his head. "Just because they're boring doesn't mean you need to be too." The smell of weed and sticky spilled alcohol was lingering in the air, and the hot and uncomfortable temperature continued to rise. Every couple of minutes, I'd run into someone I knew, but the interactions were quick before they ran off to join the crowd of people who were dancing in the living room. Chris had eventually come downstairs. He was wearing a black t shirt, blue jeans and a grey jacket with a pair of black sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He was carrying around a bat with nails hammered lazily into it, but eventually, he set it down on the staircase railing, complaining that it was heavy and he was sick of holding it. At some point, he and Matt were playing a drinking game with warheads. By the end of it, Matt had started to feel sick, complaining that the mix of the alcohol and sour candy was making him "queasy" and he couldn't play anymore. Chris of course, didn't let him live in down for a good hour after the fact. The sound of chatter and music had completely filled at this point the room. Clouds of smoke and flashing lights surrounded me and the music blasting from the speaker buzzed against the bottom of my feet through my sneakers. Somehow, i'd managed to find my way out of the loud, sweaty, hot crowd of people, and i was now leaning against the kitchen island with a red solo cup in my hand.

"Why the fuck are you wearing sunglasses indoors? Its one in the morning." Matt drunkenly barks at his brother (in the worst southern accent i've ever heard). He puts his hand on the side of Chris's face to mess with them. Chris lifted his free hand and started to swat Matt's hand away, frustrated with Matt's attempt to tug at the lenses.

"Get the fuck off me, Kid." he snapped, finally grabbing ahold of his wrist firmly enough to get it off his face. "It's a part of my costume, dumbass."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm going to find Nate." He mumbled, abandoning his cup on the island and wandering off into the mess of people. Chris rolled his eyes. "Can't handle his alcohol at all," he said quietly, lifting his cup to meet his lips. He looked towards me. I couldn't see his gaze through the sunglasses, but I could tell he looked me up and down.

"What're you dressed as?" He asked. Part of me thought he would've been able to tell already, but I answered nonetheless. "Guess," He furrowed his eyebrows in thought and shoved one of his hands in his pocket. "A frat boy?" I shook my head and make a "tssk" sound. "Magic Mike." I tugged at the tie around my neck in emphasis.

"Shit, should've guessed, the tie's a dead giveaway." He giggled, and I noticed that whatever was in his cup was started to stain his lips pink. "Nick's idea?" I frowned. "It's that obvious?" He shook his head. "Didn't say it was a bad thing,"

Finally, he put his sunglasses up so that they pushed his hair back on the top of his head like a headband, a couple of stray hairs resting on his forehead and dangling in front of his eyes. I knew he was looking at me before, but now that his eyes were no longer hidden behind the dark shield of the lenses, I felt myself turning to mush under his gaze.

We were standing facing each other now; him leaning against the sink with a hand in his pocket and a hand with his cup in it resting on the counter, and me leaning against the island with my palms pressing against the cold marble. He turned to look at the crowd of people, showcasing his jawline, which was illuminated in the flashing of lights reflecting off the disco ball that Nick lazily hung to the ceiling a couple of hours prior. He turns back to look at me. I realized I was staring, but I didn't look away. I felt myself get uncomfortable again, shuffling in place. Something about the way Chris looked directly at me whenever he spoke made me want to squirm away or cover my eyes so he couldn't anymore.

Out of the three of them, Chris and I were the least close. It's not that we didn't get along, and he was always nice to me, we just didn't click the same way i did with Matt or Nick.

The fact that I could barely look him in the fucking eye probably had something to do with that.

I look down at my feet in an effort to avoid his glance, and I heard him take another sip from his drink before setting it down on the counter, finally letting both of his hands rest in his pockets.

"D'you want candy?" I looked up, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the question.

"What?"

The grin - that fucking grin - was back on his face.

"It's halloween." He said dumbly "Do you want candy?"

I swallowed. "Sure?"

He reached to the other end of the counter and tugged the glass candy bowl towards himself. He fiddled around in the bowl for a second, digging through the candy like he was in search of something. I watched both impatiently and in confusion.

Finally, he stopped, pulling a red tootsie pop by the stick out of the bowl. He unwrapped it and took a step towards me so that he was standing on either side of my legs.

Instinctively, I reached my hand out to grab the lollipop, but he pulled his hand back.

"Say please,"

I rolled my eyes. "Chris, come on-"

"Say it."

His tone was teasing, but I could tell he wasn't kidding. I licked my lips and looked up at him. "Please?"

He nodded. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Another eye roll. I snatched the lollipop out of his hand and stuck it in my mouth. I crossed my arms in front of my chest. the silence lingers for a moment until i get the idea to return his question.

"What're you dressed as?"

"Steve Harrington." He said with a snarky tone, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Didn't you see my bat?"

"You mean before you got to lazy to carry it around? Yeah, i did." I laughed, the lollipop stick hanging between my lips. The drool was starting to built in my mouth, so I grabbed the stick again and swirled it in a circular motion on my tongue.

Chris's expression shifted slightly. "Mhm," he said, no longer focused on our conversation. Instead, his eyes lingered on my lips.

He grabbed my wrist, making all movements halt. He pulled the candy out of my mouth with a pop and tugged it towards his mouth, wrapping his lips around it.

I scowled, his grip on my wrist still firm. "Thats gross," I managed, my voice lacking confidence.

He looked at me with a sloppy smile, his lips glistening with spit. "What? swapping spit?" I nodded. He tilted his head. "You don't want it back?"

I wanted to shake my head. I wanted to say "no, thats disgusting." but I didn't move a muscle. I was completely still, my eyes still locked with his.

That same shit-eating grin still sat on his face proudly. He pulled the lollipop out of his mouth and started to move it back towards my face. Shamelessly, i parted my lips, and it was back in my mouth again.

"Doesn't seem so gross now, does it?"

The mocking tone in his voice grew poisonous. Embarrassment grew in my chest as I pulled the lollipop out of my mouth. "You sure are crass," i muttered.

"Why?" He said playfully. "Because i gave a pretty girl a lollipop?"

The way he said it made it seem so lewd. I felt like mush beneath him.

He stepped impossibly closer. He leaned down so that his lips brushed the shell of my ear. "Or because Because I wanted to see your lips all pretty and stained red?"

The heat of his breath against my neck sent a shiver down my spine. He pulled back and looked at me, eager to see how quickly i melted at his words.

The tension was suffocating. I could barely get a word, let alone a breath out.

"I don't..." I wanted to say something, but my breath caught. I closed my mouth so that my labored breathing wasn't so apparent.

He pulled the lollipop from my hand, not looking away from me for even a second. He placed it on my cheek, watching as it stuck to my face. "Stick your tongue out."

I swallowed. Everyone around us suddenly became invisible, and i obliged at an embarrassing speed, parting my lips once again and sticking my tongue out, allowing him to place the pad of his thumb on my tongue.

"Fuck." He mumbled, staring at my lips with intent. He swiped his tongue against my bottom lip, getting lost in the sight before his eyes finally met mine again. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please." it came out in a breath.

Before I could blink, the lollipop dropped onto the counter next to me and Chris placed his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me close so that our lips smashed together.

It didn't take long for him to obtain dominance, the hand that was on my neck falling to rest at the small of my back, and the other rested on my cheek, fingers lightly brushing the back of my neck.

My hands were on his face, then his hair, tugging and pulling. I whimpered at the feeling, and my lips parted just enough for his tongue to slide into my mouth. Maybe it was just the lollipop, but he tasted sweet. Sweet and sour. It could've been the alcohol we'd both been drinking, as well as the sour flavor the warheads had left on his tongue, but the way he tasted was intoxicating. The tint of cherry that coated his lips made me want to kiss him harder. I'd never get enough.

My hands fell back to the sides of his face, knocking the sunglasses of his head and letting them hit the floor, the sound almost entirely drowned out by the music.

Suddenly, I snapped back into reality, and our surroundings hit me like a freight. I pulled back abruptly, my eyes darting to the crowd in front of us.

Chris took the opportunity to latch onto my neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses from my jawline down to the base of my throat, digging his teeth into the flesh and swirling his tongue.

I whined. "Chris-"

His ivory teeth were enough to leave marks. I could practically feel my skin turning shades of indigo under his touch. He hummed in response, the vibration making me shiver.

"Chris, we can't-" his hands slipped lightly under the hem of the calvin cline briefs i was wearing to touch my skin, and my breath caught in my throat. "Chris, there are people. everywhere"

He finally pulled off my neck, but his hands remained where they were before. "So what?"

"So I don't want Nick or Matt to walk in here and see your tongue down my throat." I said messily, suddenly realizing how out of breath i was.

He put his bottom lip between his teeth in thought, glancing around the room.

"Lets go to my room,"

I had almost forgotten we were in his house. I glanced towards Matt, who was half awake on the couch, rambling to Nate. I couldn't find Nick.

"They'll notice that we're gone." I said.

He shrugged. "S'long as they don't come looking, doesn't matter."

I pause, but before I can even think about it too much, his eyes meet mine, and any thoughts I had were gone.

I nod quickly. He interlocks our hands and starts tugging me towards the stairs. I look over my shoulder, giving Matt one last glance, and I'm thankful he doesn't notice.

We quickly scurry down the hall, the rubber of our sneakers scuffing against the wood. Chris lazily opens his bedroom door, and once its closed, I'm immediately against it. His hands are roaming my lower half, and mine are latched around his neck.

We're kissing like I can't breath and he's my air. He pulls away, tugging on a fistful of my hair to make my chin go up for easier access. His lips latch to my neck again. I'm a moaning mess, and i can feel his lips grin against my skin.

"Fuck, you're so sweet," He says breathlessly between kisses to my jawline. He's telling me i taste sweet, but the lack of oxygen in both of us isn't letting him. "such a pretty girl."

I whimper at the compliment, and a huffed laugh escapes him.

"You like that?" He asks, pulling away from my neck to look at me. "You like when I call you pretty, baby?"

I nod, mumbling a "mhm" with closed lips. My hands are roaming the back of his neck, running my fingers through his curls. I'm lightly tugging him back towards me, desperate to feel him again.

"So responsive," he says quietly, latching our lips together again. He tugs at my belt loops to push our bodies together. I feel his hand roam to pull at the button of my jeans, fiddling with it for a second before unbuttoning them and tugging them down to until they fall to my ankles.

He steps backward, pulling me with him so I step out of my jeans, leaving them in a heap by the door. He turns us around so that his back is to the door instead, and we slowly make our way towards his bed, stopping when it hits the back of my thighs.

I lazily flop down onto the bed, my hands immediately finding his belt, tugging at it. He chuckles, grabbing a hold of my wrists.

"Needy girl, huh?" he asks.

"Chris, please," I beg. Part of me feels embarrassed at how quickly we ended up here - at how quickly i practically fell to my knees in front of him, but the growing tension in my gut is overtaking that feeling.

I need him, and I need him now.

"Not yet," he says. "'Wanna make you feel good first."

He holds both my wrists with one hand and starts to untie the tie that was hanging around my neck with the other. He places the tie around my wrists, before pausing in his movements to eye me carefully.

"Is this okay?" He asks, looking right at me when he says it. I nod slowly. "Verbal yes please, sweetheart."

"Yes."

He ties my arms together in a firm knot, his lip between is teeth in focus as he does it.

"Lie down for me." He tells me.

I lean back until my back hits the comforter on his bed. He pulls his jacket and shirt off in one swift movement, carelessly tossing them to the side before climbing on top of me, his legs on either side of mine.

He pushes my arms up above my head and lets them rest on the bed behind me. "Keep these here, okay? Can you do that for me?"

I nod silently.

"Good girl."

He presses a kiss to my lips and then trails them down my face and my front, bunching up my tank top right below my tits. He's too impatient to take my shirt off, but he's already tugging at the briefs around my waist.

"Can I take these off?"

"Please," I whine at him. As soon as I say it, he's pulling them off and discarding them.

"Fuck." he says under his breath, kissing my lower stomach before hovering above my core, the heat of his breath making me want to squirm.

"Chris, please." I say desperately, growing more and more desperate by the minute.

He looks up at me through his lashes. He licks two of his fingers cleanly, coating them with spit before placing them in front of my entrance and slowly pressing them into me. "What?" He asks tauntingly, watching his fingers disappear inside of me, "What do you want?"

My mouth gawks open as he curls his fingers, forcing me to lean my head back. My arms fall over my eyes. "fuck!"

"Look at me." He snaps. My eyes dart back in his direction. "Arms above your head, or I stop. Do you understand me?"

I nod, moving my binded wrists back to rest above my head. "'Gonna be a good girl for me?" he asks, beginning to pump his fingers at a slow pace. "Gonna do what I ask you too?"

"Yes," I choke out, screwing my eyes shut as his pace gets faster.

"Tell me want you want, sweetheart." He asks again, his movements paused while he awaits my response.

"Please touch me, Chris."

I let out an alarmed yelp as his mouth finally meets my cunt. His tongue laps at my clit, as I whine and squirm in place, moans and whispers of his name falling from my lips. He lifts his head for a minute, "You're so sweet, fuck, 'could eat you forever." he babbles breathlessly before his mouth is back where i need it most, relentlessly pushing his fingers farther into me.

My back starts to arch and my hips lift lightly off the bed, but before I get to far, his free hand arounds around the base of my thigh and pushes me back down onto the mattress. My face is flushed and hot, the whispers of his name turning into cries.

His movements grow quicker, pushing me closer to the edge. He wants me to unravel under him, he wants me to go numb from his touch.

"Fuck, please, Chris. M' so close." I finally say, my nails digging into the sheets above my head. My eyes start to water lightly, the pleasure starting to become overwhelming.

He lifts his head, his fingers curling even deeper, a cheeky smile on his face. "Yeah? Gonna cum for me, baby?"

"Yes- fuck!"

My legs start to twitch as I chase the high, arching my back. He pushes my hips back down onto the mattress again, harsher this time, his grip enough to bruise the skin of my inner thigh.

He pulls his fingers away from me, licking them clean without thought, and looking down at the heavy rise and fall of my chest. The look on his face is proud - pleased - as he sees the tear streaming down my cheek. "Such a slut," he mumbles, "Aren't you?"

I can't do anything but whine. He leans back over me, placing a sloppy kiss on my lips. He still tasted sweet. He wiped the tear off my cheek and pulled my wrists down towards him, untieing the bind.

"You can give me another, yeah?" he asks, but he's already throwing the tie to the side and pulling my hips closer to the end of the bed to press against him. "D'you want another?"

"Yes- please, yes." I utter out, reaching for his belt again. "Please, m' need it,"

"Pretty girl wants my cock, hm?" He repeats, unbuckling his belt at painfully slow pace, looking right at me as he does it. "You wanna get fucked dumb? Want me to fill you up?"

"More than anything," I plead mindlessly, propping myself up on my elbows to see him better. "Please."

He pulls his jeans down and drops them on the floor besides him, now just in his boxers. He presses his clothed bulge against my lower half, grinning as my face twists in need.

I let myself fall back against the bed. I hear Chris fiddle with the hem of his boxers before pulling them down completely. I cant make myself look at him - my stomach flips every time i do.

He parts my legs slightly, his hand wrapping around my thigh. He uses the other to align himself with my entrance, and my hands fly to my face, covering my eyes. Licking his lips before looking at me.

He slowly pushes himself into me, furrowing his eyebrows and knocking his head back. "Shit,"

My mouth gapes open silently at the stretch - the burn - of Chris.

Fuck, he's huge.

He puts both his hands on either side of my frame, "Fuck, so good." He says breathlessly, pushing me farther down onto him. My moans and breathless babbles get louder by the second. If not for the loud music and buzz of the party downstairs, we'd be in trouble.

"So big," I whimper at him, my grip on the sheets turning my knuckles white, feeling every inch of him as he stretches my gummy walls. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

"Doing so good for me." he says, his voice soothing as I squirm and moan under him, the stretch turning from pain to pleasure. "You can take it, yeah?"

He finally sinks to the hilt, hovering over me as he kisses me again, basking in the view of me, the feel of me. My hands shoot to my eyes again, the almost unbearable pleasure making me unable to sit still.

I wiggle myself onto him, silently begging for him to move. He grunts, taking the hint and starting to slowly pump into me. He pulls my hands away from my face, mumbling "let me see your pretty face,"

He leans down, placing my thighs on either side of him and presses his chest to mine, mumbling praises and grunts into my ear. My arms wrap around his neck, gripping and scratching at his back. His pace quickens as the volume of our skin-to-skin contact gets higher. I tug at his hair, and he groans into my skin.

He pulls away, placing his hands back on my upper thighs with a tight grip, his nails threatening to break skin. He grins at my fucked-out expression. His pace speeds up even more, hitting spots i didn't even know existed. "M' I makin you feel good?"

It was almost mocking. He knew he was. My eyes rolling into the back of my head and the redness of my face was evidence he was.

"So good," My response was barely coherent, the twist of my stomach threatening to break. "m' so close, fuck,"

"Fuck, sweet girl takin' me so well." He chokes out between groans. "Gonna cum again? Gonna show me how good I make you feel?"

My arms fly above my head to grip the sheets behind me. I try to respond, but my thoughts run quiet; the only sound in the room is Chris slamming into me.

"Too dumb on my cock, pretty girl?" He hovers over me, the warmth of his breath hitting my face. "Such a good girl, fuck. Gonna' make me cum."

I whine, my hands flying to brush against his stomach, gripping onto nothing. "please,"

He's looking right at me again. "Gonna fill you up," he mumbles. "You want to be full, don't you sweet thing?"

"Please, please, please-" Is all that leaves my mouth. My hands grip his sides and I dig my nails deep enough to draw blood. "Need it."

He drops his hand between my thighs and rubs circles on my clit. My body shakes in place as the knot in my stomach shatters, bucking my hips up against him.

Chris groans. "Fuck, close,"

I start to whine from the overstimulation, my legs weakly hanging on either side of him as he pounds into me, chasing his orgasm.

He leans down onto me again, digging his teeth into my neck as his movements halt completely, his release filling me.

We stay like that for a minute, both catching our breath. My legs and core are numb, my face is flushed and drenched with sweat, and tears stain my cheeks. He carefully pulls out of me, whispering praises into my ear as I whine from the soreness and pressing kisses to my temple.

He messily kisses my neck, then my cheek, and pulls off of me, wiping the tears off my face. He smiles at my state. "So pretty," He pushes the hair out of my face and runs his thumb along my cheek. "So sweet."

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :) reblogs, likes and follows are appreciated! ! criticism is also appreciated, its how i improve, but please be nice. links below . . .

masterlists ! guidelines / info !

#Spotify #sturniolos #sturniolo triplets #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #halloween #smut #jellyfishbug 🌺

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solsticehymns · 3 months ago

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marauders + muggle jobs: headcanons

JAMES would 100% be a finance bro and you can’t tell me i’m wrong. every morning he leaves for work in a suit, perfectly polished and neat. comes home with his jacket off, sleeves pushed up, tie undone hhhhh… or maybe he’s lucky enough to work from home. and you hear him in his office talking on his headset about some “q4 projections… annual review…” blah blah blah proper name place name. he’s hot and busy and always offering to “go over your finances” which is code for “come sit on my lap.”

SIRIUS i’m biased towards since i wrote bartender!sirius and that’s all i can picture honestly. BUT if it wasn’t that, it’d be something creative and overlooked, but he has this strong passion for it. tattoo artist is popular for him and i fully support it. he owns a little studio that plays punk and has plants in every corner. gives you free tattoos just because he “needed to test a new needle.” criminally charming.

REMUS gives such exasperated high school english teacher energy. like “students can we please just finish macbeth.” at home, he’s grading essays, red pen in hand, flabbergasted at their writing. “this is the future of our country? no, we’re moving. this is not good, love, i'm questioning if they can read.” secretly bakes cookies for the class during finals week. has ten copies of catcher in the rye and hates them all.

REGULUS i kinda think would be a lawyer. he’s good at arguing, really good at negotiating. always gets his way. works A LOT but never complains about it—keep work and home separate kind of guy. comes home at 9pm still looking immaculate. probably has a decanter of scotch on his desk and a reputation for never losing a case. coworkers are scared of him. you are not.

EVAN? first thought was sales associate at prada or hermès or some other bougie brand. he has TASTE. he’ll judge your outfit with a smile and then fix it for you. maybe does interior design on the side. fusses over whether the rug and the curtains match. throws pinterest-worthy dinner parties. owns a label maker. he’s that guy and he knows it.

BARTY for some reason is giving private investigator energy. a sketchy one. office in the back of a nail salon like saul goodman. a million yellow notepads scattered everywhere, all illegible. black suv with tinted windows. says he’s “just doing recon” but you’re not sure if he’s actually working or stalking someone. probably both. it’s hot. don’t ask questions.

BONUS: LILY is a kindergarten teacher and LOVES IT. her kiddos adore her—“miss lily! miss lily!!” she always comes home with handmade cards and glitter glue on her skirt. her outfits are cute little cardigans, printed skirts, mary janes. has a sticker chart system and takes gold stars extremely seriously. brings themed cupcakes for every holiday. you fall in love with her again every time she talks about her kiddos.

☀️🌻 masterlist

#marauders era #marauders #marauders headcanon #james potter #james potter headcanon #sirius black #sirius black headcanon #remus lupin #remus lupin headcanon #regulus black #regulus black headcanon #evan rosier #evan rosier headcanon #barty crouch jr #barty crouch jr headcanon #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders incorrect quotes

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lavender-twilight23 · 2 months ago

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Random Thunderbolts headcanons/thoughts about the characters that have formed in my brain as I’ve been starting to write fanfiction* (and just things that I think are cute to imagine)

*mostly Bob not gonna lie

Putting this here just in case for spoilers

-Bob has an anxious habit of chewing his nails and/or nibbling at his knuckles, and he does a lot of anxious movement with his hands in general.

-Physical Touch is Bob’s love language. So is Alexei’s. Ava’s is Gift Giving/Receiving. John’s is Acts of Service. Bucky’s is Quality Time. Yelena’s is a combination of Words of Affirmation and Quality Time. She also makes an effort to learn people’s love languages if she’s close to them so she can make them feel the most loved.

-Bob is afraid of the dark because of his trauma from the Void and he is really ashamed of it.

-Bob likes going on errands with people, especially Ava.

-Alexei and Bob once raced on who could solve a Rubik’s cube the fastest. Bob won easily.

-Bob doesn’t like wearing socks since he runs hot.

-Bob is a pretty creative person (hence the book that he was reading in the post- credits scene: The Creative Act: A Way of Being) and sometimes writes poetry that he considers to be shitty. But secretly, John has read some and actually really likes his poetry.

-Bob has panic attacks relatively often. The first time he had one in front of the team was when Alexei was making eggs and loudly calling to Yelena across the room to ask if she wanted anything for breakfast. He wasn’t paying attention and dropped the pan. Alexei’s volume and the slam of the pan plunged Bob into a panic attack, and Bucky, with his own history of anxiety and mental health struggles, noticed first. He shut the others up and the team rallied around Bob to help him through it.

-John is secretly incredibly protective over Bob. He would never tell anyone, but once, after Bob had a bad day, he sat outside of Bob’s room all night to make sure he slept through the night.

-Ava’s favorite ‘holiday’ is April Fool’s Day for obvious reasons. (phasing, being able to sneak up on people)

-Alexei is atrocious at spelling.

-Yelena writes in really good cursive.

-Bucky has a doctor’s signature and John teases him about it often.

-Ava got Bob into journaling, and now Bob journals multiple times a week.

-Bob sees Yelena as the big sister he never had and is pretty codependent.

-Alexei throws a party for every team member on their birthdays despite many of their gripes with having a big celebration. But Bob loves it.

There we go, idk maybe I’ll post more when I think of more 🫡🫡

#marvel thunderbolts #thunderbolts #new avengers #headcanons #marvel universe #marvel characters #robert reynolds #alexei shostakov #yelena belova #ava starr #john walker #bucky barnes #my thunderbolts posts

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herespaaa · 2 years ago

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egcdeath · 5 months ago

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just what the doctor ordered

pairing: harvey x reader

summary: as a successful lawyer in the city, you’re almost certain that nothing can throw you for a loop. that is, until a visit to your sister’s farm brings you to the small town’s doctor.

chapter summary: a minor injury on your sister’s farm brings you to dr. harvey’s clinic.

words: 5.6k

warnings: fluff, slowww burn, mentions of blood, medical examination, unnamed original sister character, love at first sight vibes, mutual pining, friends to lovers

author’s note: full disclaimer i am not a lawyer OR a doctor so please forgive me if i get some things wrong. i also haven’t written creatively in a minute, so my writing’s a little rusty. please bear with me as i find my footing again!

Growing up, you and your sister were like night and day. Where she liked to play outside in the mud and get her hands dirty, you preferred to stay inside, occupying your clean hands with arts and crafts. Where you were precise and careful with your words, she preferred to be crude and speak her mind. You were anxious when she was carefree, and while your nose was always in a book, her head was always in the clouds.

She also happened to be your grandfather’s favorite—so it came as no surprise that she was the grandchild he asked to inherit the farm. It came as even less of a surprise that she happily accepted the property, always flexible and ready to pivot to the next opportunity. You weren’t particularly mad about it, after all, he passed while you’d been fighting tooth and nail for promotion to a senior associate at the law firm you worked at in Zuzu City, and you weren’t exactly interested in giving everything you worked so hard for up to play in the mud professionally.

While it might not have made sense for you to live in Stardew Valley as a career, it certainly made sense as a safe haven for you to visit when you needed some time away from the city, and with the week you just had, you desperately needed time away from the city.

The train ride into town was a quiet one, your head pressed against the glass as you dozed off and thought about the town. Though you visited the farm a few times throughout your childhood, you never felt completely at home there. Still, it would be good to see your sister and get away from the hustle of living in the city, even if you were only taking a break from it all for a few days.

After getting off the train, you barely had a moment to collect yourself before you were immediately greeted by your sister. She hugged you tightly, as if she hadn’t seen you in years—despite visiting your apartment in the city only a few months ago.

Even if you didn’t show it as outwardly as your younger sibling, you were just as excited to be seeing her. You did your best not to dwell on it too much, but you often worried about her. You worried about her from the second she was born, and you would surely be worrying about her until the moment you were six-feet under. Despite the fact that she was coming up on her third year on the farm, you couldn’t help but feel concerned about her being so alone.

During your weekly phone calls and her less frequent visits to the city, you resisted the urge to interrogate her on if she’d made any new friends or was enjoying the life she was carving out for herself. Knowing that you had a bit of an anxious streak, she set the boundary that you could only discuss these types of things if she were the one to bring it up first, and you did your best to respect that.

Like when you realized you hadn’t visited your sister’s farm since her housewarming party a few years ago, or that you somehow had managed to spend every single major holiday together in the city. You kept your desire to see your sister where she lived quiet, not wanting to stir the pot, until she suggested that you come to visit. Immediately, you put everything down to come see her.

You weren’t sure if the invitation was extended because of how stressed you were at work, or because she genuinely wanted to see you, but it didn't particularly matter to you. You wanted to come and visit your sister to make sure that she was okay—that she wasn’t just spending her time rotting in the old farmhouse away from society and living off of jars of pickles your grandparents preserved years ago.

The two of you walked back to the farm, the path you’d walked so many times growing up feeling somewhat familiar, but in a distant and blurry way. On some level, returning back to the location as you walked side by side with your chatty sister made you feel a bit like a kid again.

As her farm came into sight, you were immediately taken aback by the decorated exterior and the stretch of crops growing on the land. Apparently, you had no reason to be worried at all. Your sister appeared to genuinely be flourishing in her new life as a farmer.

You made sure to compliment her on this as the two of you went inside, making light small talk as she showed you up to your room.

“As much as I’d love to stay here and chat, I still have some things I need to finish on my to-do list today. Feel free to tag along, but you should also explore the town,” she explained.

“You? To-do list? Who are you!” the two of you shared a laugh before you began once more. “I’d love to help you out.”

That was how you ended up in her kitchen, helping her jar up cranberry preserves. It was going pretty well once the two of you found your rhythm, but like anything that required coordinated teamwork between the two of you, it didn’t last long. As you went to grab a jar lid, multiple lids collapsed and threatened to fall off the countertop. Using both of your hands, you attempted to collect the falling lids–which proved to be a mistake, as one lid very suddenly sliced the palm of your hand. As any reasonable person would, you yelped out in pain.

“Oh shit, what happened?” your sister turned to look at you as you clutched your hand, which was becoming bloodier by the second.

“I think I cut myself,” you said through gritted teeth, more put off by the sight of blood than the actual pain you were feeling.

“Can I see? I can probably clean it up,” she was already up and off to grab her first aid kit before you could even show her the damage. Once she got back to the kitchen, you presented your bloody palm to her and she attempted to dress the wound.

“Hmm. Okay, this looks way above my pay grade. You might’ve severed an artery or gotten tetanus or some shit.”

“What!?” you knew you shouldn’t exactly be taking medical advice from your sibling who had absolutely no medical background at all, but her words still alarmed you as a fellow person with no medical background.

“Umm, okay, there’s a doctor in town that can fix this.”

“A doctor?” you questioned, still leaning over the sink as you did your best not to look at the cloth on your hand that was beginning to be splotched with crimson.

“A doctor and a nurse. Well, clinic assistant, to be more precise.”

“That can’t possibly be all you have here,” she shrugged dismissively at your statement. “Man, this town sounds like my own personal hell. Whatever. Fuck it. Let’s go.”

The two of you moved swiftly to get to the clinic after your sister informed you of their hours and the fact that you only had thirty minutes to get there before they closed. The two of you marched into town like the women on a mission that you were, before your sister stopped in front of a small building and threw the door open for you.

“Oh, hey,” a woman in the front of the clinic greeted your sister familiarly. Her bright, friendly demeanor and the fact that your sister knew the hours by heart made you wonder what exactly was the extent of her connection with the clinic. “You okay?”

“Would you believe that it’s not me for once?” she laughed, a little too hard to be an average laugh. You stored that little bit of knowledge away to be used at a later date. “Maru, this is my sister,” she lifted up your hand in a supported wave, displaying the bandage that was now much darker than it was in your sister’s kitchen.

“Oh! Nice to meet you. I’ll grab the doctor. Feel free to take a seat, but he won’t be too long,” she explained before exiting the room, before peeking her head back out the door once more. “Maru, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled, though the low current of pain in your hand made you want to do anything but smile. She returned the expression before leaving to presumably alert the doctor that he had a patient waiting for him.

“You’re way too calm about this,” you said to your sister as she led you to a chair.

“I’m a regular here, so I know you’re in good hands,” she said casually, wearing her ‘Regular At The Doctor’s Office’ Badge like it was one of honor. “No pun intended.”

“Ha ha. Are you sure we shouldn’t be going to an emergency room or something?” you tried your best to seem like you were keeping cool, but you weren’t fully convinced that you could trust a small practice family doctor with all of your medical needs.

“Oh please, they’ve seen much worse,” her tone was cool and casual, and if you didn’t know her so well, you might even think she was posturing to sound cooler than she was.

“What the hell could you even do here that would require medical attention so frequently? Do you have a terminal illness I don’t know about?”

She simply laughed at you instead of responding as if you were missing something, like you were missing the most obvious thing in the world. You had a feeling that if Maru and the mysterious doctor were in the room, they’d be laughing right along with her.

“Besides, I could have tetanus or something. I’m pretty sure it’s a bad thing to cut yourself on metal.”

“The metal was sterilized, you big baby,” she rolled her eyes incredulously, as if she wasn’t the one who suggested that you might get seriously ill from the cut on your hand in the first place.

“Okay, well you’re the one who put the word tetanus into my head,” you huffed just as the main door swung open, and a man who looked like he just stepped off the cover of a children’s book about a personified mouse appeared from behind it. He clutched a clipboard tightly and his glasses slipped down his nose. It was oddly endearing. And also a little concerning. You weren’t fully convinced that the town didn’t just grab their nerdiest looking guy and declared that he was now a healthcare provider.

In a town with a population greater than twenty, you were sure that he would’ve called your name out to grab your attention, but given that your sister was living in a ghost town, the two of you were the only ones in the room who possibly could’ve needed medical assistance.

“Hi there,” he began, the depth and smoothness of his tone in the one word taking you by surprise. “Would you like to head on back?”

You wouldn’t like to, really, but you were sure that with every passing minute, your likelihood of getting tetanus, or some other obscure metal-transferred pathogen grew. And there was simply no way that you would ever make partner if you fell victim to tetanus now. Glancing at your sibling, then at the doctor leaning against the door, you stood up.

“Are you coming with me?” you asked your sister, your voice only slightly above a whisper.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a violation of HIPAA,” she dismissed you with ease. Somehow, you felt like her lack of enthusiasm at being your emotional support during your appointment felt connected to the too-hard laugh she let out at the nurse. You frowned at her excuse, which somehow prompted her to tell you the truth. “Sorry. I actually just need to talk to Maru about something.”

“Fine. I’ll just get my life-altering medical treatment on my own,” you teased before heading towards the door.

“That’s not actually a HIPAA violation, by the way,” he informed you both. Oddly, the small comment gave you the slightest hint of more confidence in the doctor to know that at the very least, the small-town doctor knew a few of the rules and regulations his job required. After his interjection, the two of you began your trek down the hallway to the exam room, with you following a few paces behind the doctor.

He turned and extended his hand to you, and you shook his hand the same way you shook everyone’s: with a confidence and self-assuredness that said I’m going to demolish you in court. Though, you had to shake with your non-dominant hand, and you were a little nervous by the whole ordeal, and maybe you just needed your eyes checked, but up close the doctor was kinda cute. All of which played a role in your handshake coming across less like unspoken coldhearted intimidation, and more small town politeness.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Harvey,” he greeted you with a smile that tilted his mustache just the slightest bit upward. Again, you were struck by how cute the doctor was, but you reminded yourself that you were there for treatment and not eye candy.

Regardless, you introduced yourself, ditching the typical qualifications that fell behind your name for the simple explanation of being the local farmer’s sister. Surely, that meant more to this guy than knowing what law firm you worked for. Besides, he hadn’t even introduced himself as a doctor, despite the time, blood, sweat, and tears that he’d surely put into getting in the field. Clearly, people in this town didn’t care about titles.

“It’s great to finally put a face to the name. Your sister talks about you a lot,” he explained, pushing the door to the exam room open and holding it for you.

“Good things, I hope?” you asked as you stepped inside.

“Mmm, sometimes,” he replied after a moment of fake-pondering the question. Something about his shtick felt very endearing to you—but that was a thought you’d unpack at a later date. “You can go ahead and sit in the chair with the paper, then we can talk about what brought you in today.”

Thankfully, you were good at following directions and it was pretty difficult to miss the massive, sterile looking chair in front of you. “Well, Little Ms. Farmer was showing me how to make preserves and I cut my hand on the lid of a jar.”

You watched from your vantage point as Harvey sat down on a nifty looking stool, complete with wheels to let him get around the room easily. He turned his back to you to grab medical equipment from the countertop and listened to you as he worked.

“Ah! That sounds painful,” he turned back around to look at you and scooted his stool towards you. “I’m just gonna get a few of your vitals before I take a look at it. Does that sound okay?”

You couldn’t exactly say that a random family practice doctor checking you out was your first preference, or that it sounded okay but it wasn’t like you really had another option, so it would have to suffice.

“Go ahead,” you hummed, looking up at the tiled ceiling, then back at the man in front of you. You went through the motions as he ran through standard tests and asked you a few questions about your medical history. What caught you off guard was when the cool metal of a stethoscope pressed against your chest.

With the man now close enough to you that you could feel his breaths blow softly on your skin, you felt like you were observing the doctor in a whole new light. Sure, you thought that he was cute before, but now you could see the flecks of brown in his otherwise green eyes as they were fixed on the ground intently while he listened to the sound of your heart. You noted his brows furrowed in concentration and the soft curl at the tips of his hair. The cherry on top of his proximity to you was the near-intoxicating scent of the man. You swore that you could smell the shampoo that had been in his hair that morning and the clean, woodsy scent of his cologne.

Your senses were overwhelmed by the man in front of you, and he hadn’t even done anything—and clearly would not do anything. He was doing his job, after all. But that didn’t stop your traitorous body from telling on you.

“Your heart rate is really elevated,” he commented and looked up at you in a way that certainly wasn’t helping your already climbing heart rate. “Are you on any medication? Had any caffeine today?”

“I’m on birth control, if that matters at all to you,” you regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. Your subconscious thoughts must’ve materialized into words, and your sentence came out as oddly suggestive, making you cringe internally. Maybe you were just overthinking, but you didn’t want it to seem like you were hitting on the poor man you just met, just trying to do his job and provide you medical care.

Ever the professional, Harvey didn’t even flinch at your sentence, instead nodding understandably. “Have you had any cardiac concerns with it before?”

You wordlessly shook your head at his question. You appreciated his professionalism, but part of you hoped that he stored this knowledge away for some other point in time. You internally scolded yourself for thinking this, but didn’t do much to stop that particular train of thought.

“I must just be nervous,” you laughed awkwardly, all regular attorney confidence out the window. It was all so unlike you—you were usually so precise and thought through every word that came out of your mouth. The effect he was having on you was starting to worry you. Maybe it was just the small-town charm rubbing off on you. Maybe it was something else.

“My sister put this stupid idea in my head that I somehow gave myself tetanus. It’s been bothering me the whole time.” You had to applaud yourself for that save. You thanked whatever was out there for the ability to think quickly on your feet, only developed after formative years of cold calls.

He hummed aloud as he pondered your statement, a new expression of thought on his face. Unfortunately, you could feel the pace of your heartbeat somehow increase even more. In the back of your mind, you began to prepare an excuse for why your heart was beating so fast. Surely, you could lie about spotting a bug on the ground or forgetting about drinking an energy drink that morning.

“When did you have your last tetanus shot?” the doctor asked.

“Uh, a few years ago?”

“Less than five?”

“Mhm.”

“You should be in the clear. Unless you cut your hand on something rusty?”

You shook your head once more, thoroughly impressed with this knowledge off the top of his head. You distantly wondered if people in this small town often stepped on rusty nails.

“Nothing to be worried about,” he assured you, voice soft and sweet. Unfortunately for you, his kind reassurance and his quietly confident competence was doing nothing for your steadily climbing heartbeat.

Ever the attentive doctor, Harvey finally commented on your racing heart. “Hey, you’ll be alright. I know it’s scary that your hand was bleeding so much, but there are just a bunch of blood vessels in your hand, so it probably looks much worse than it actually is. The fact that you’re still coherent and not lightheaded tells me that there really isn’t anything to worry about.”

You swallowed once more, looking at him like a deer in headlights. “Sorry,” was all you got out. He might want to reassess that whole ‘coherent’ thing.

“No need to be sorry,” he assured you before taking the stethoscope out of his ears and resting it on his shoulders. “Mind if I take a look at your hand?”

When you nodded, he took your hand and took a look at the gash. You tried to ignore the way that butterflies swarmed in your stomach. It had been a while since anyone touched you in any way, but it was a little pathetic that you were getting butterflies and a racing heart from the man who was about to give you stitches.

Holding your hand gently in his own, he took a look at your palm before pouring alcohol on a cotton ball. “This might hurt a little. Let me know if you need me to take a break.”

You couldn’t help but imagine his words being spoken to you elsewhere, voice thick and laden with lust. You thanked every single one of the gods that he wasn’t still listening to your rapidly beating heart.

Your hand stung as the man in front of you focused on disinfecting the gash, but all you could manage to focus on was the concerned on his face as he tried to get a better look at your hand. Internally, you chastised yourself for thinking about a stranger like this, but it certainly didn’t deter you from doing so. Maybe you just needed to bite the bullet and redownload Tinder when you returned to Zuzu City.

“Well, the good news is that it’s not nearly as bad as it looks,” he looked up at you from where he was sitting. For a moment, you imagined him looking up at you while—you stopped that train of thought. Man, were you touch-starved. “A bit of bandaging and being extra careful should do the trick.”

“Oh good,” you sighed out your relief, partially at being okay, and partially at knowing your shameful appointment was coming to a close. “I apologize for wasting your time. If I knew all it would need is a little gauze, we wouldn’t have come in, especially right before you close.”

Harvey gently uncurled your fingers, which had subconsciously tensed while you spoke, then began to work a bandage around your hand. “It’s really no problem at all. In fact, I’m glad you came in. Like I said, it was good to finally be able to meet you after hearing so much about you. And it’s always better to be safe than sorry when it comes to your health. You’re welcome here any time, even outside of my hours.”

He glanced up at you in between words, still steadily and diligently treating your wound. As he spoke, a soft dusting of pink appeared on his face that you couldn’t exactly read. For a second, you humored the thought that maybe, just maybe he’d felt the same tension you were feeling. Though, you were sure that a smart, sweet, and gentle guy like Harvey was surely off the market.

“Thank you, doctor. That’s really kind of you,” you tried to ignore how your own cheeks felt warm. It had been a long time since anyone had treated you so tenderly, even if it was Harvey’s literal job to do so. “But what about your work-life balance? Are you just constantly on call?”

“In a way, yeah. But it’s for the greater good of the community,” he dismissed with the wave of a hand, using his other to secure the bandage on your hand.

“What about the good of Dr. Harvey?” you couldn’t help but question, and were met with a look of slight surprise on his face. “Oh- sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep or anything. I mean, I’m sure you take good care of everyone in town. You definitely took good care of me today, and of course, I’m really grateful that you take care of my little sister. But you should take care of yourself too.”

Part of you worried how your words would be received, knowing that it was coming from a somewhat hypocritical place—after all, lawyers weren’t exactly known for their ability to balance their personal and professional lives. Still, you felt like the sweet, cute doctor needed someone to tell him about boundaries, and a stranger he might never see again felt like the right person to deliver the message.

Harvey opened his mouth to say something, then paused and shrugged, “I guess you’re right.” He set the equipment he was using down, then announced: “All done. Thanks for chatting with me and giving me a fresh perspective.”

You followed him out of the room, unsure of how you felt. At least you knew you didn’t have tetanus and that your hand wasn’t too badly injured, although you felt like you were leaving the clinic with something far worse than a physical ailment.

A crush.

Which felt ridiculous, considering you’d only just met this man, and that you basically knew nothing about him aside from how soft he was with you, and how much he clearly cared about his community.

Luckily, the doctor didn’t seem to pick up on this—and if he did, he maintained professionalism by not commenting on it—leaving you two to make small talk as you walked down the hall.

“So, how long will you be in town?” he asked, glancing back at you as he walked a few paces ahead of you.

“Just for the weekend,” you hummed, training your mind on thoughts of eating freshly harvested fruits and laying on the beach, rather than sitting in an office sifting through novels of paperwork. “Then it’s back to work.”

“You’re a lawyer, right?”

“I am,” you were impressed by his ability to recall information that your sister surely shared about you to him. You weren’t sure who you should be more flattered by—Harvey, for remembering information about you before he even met you, or your sister, for talking about you fondly to people who didn’t even know you.

“I could never do what you do,” he said almost dreamily. “Any sort of public speaking is a nightmare for me.”

“Really? You don’t go to medical conferences or anything like that?” Harvey opened the door to the waiting room and held it for you as you walked through. You tried not to let his gentlemanliness derail your words. “It seems like there’s always some sort of doctor gathering happening in Zuzu. I live in an apartment near the Joja Convention Center, so I see a lot of people come to town for things like that.”

He shrugged, leaning casually against the door as he spoke to you. “There are, but it’s not for me. I work here for a reason.”

“Well, this seems like a good fit for you, if today was any indicator,” you tried not to lay it on too thick, but you were genuinely quite impressed by the medical treatment you received.

“Thank you. I’m sure if I ever saw you in a courtroom, I’d be saying the same,” he smiled at you, and you somehow knew that he was being completely honest. He seemed like the type of guy to bring you lunch at work, then offer you a massage at home while you told him about your day, all while telling you about how much of a great job you were doing–but you were getting ahead of yourself.

“You’re too kind,” you felt heat rise to your cheeks once more. Between the flush of your face and your heart rate, you truly couldn’t catch a break. You just hoped that Harvey didn’t catch on to how pathetic you were being. “Well, I‘ve already taken a lot of your time. I don’t want to steal any more of your evening.”

“Oh no, it’s been a pleasure. Hopefully I’ll see you again. Well, not again like in the clinic, but around town,” once again, a red blush appeared on his face. Maybe you weren’t alone in your delusion after all. “But feel free to stop by. It feels like your sister’s always coming in to talk with Maru, so you’re always welcome to tag along. Wait, that sounded bad. We love when she visits- you know what, I’m just gonna stop talking.”

It was cute to watch him be as outwardly flustered as you were on the inside. You couldn’t help but to giggle to yourself, though you were sure you sounded like a schoolgirl.

“Thanks, Dr. Harvey,” you said once you’d finished giggling.

“Just Harvey is fine,” he gently corrected you, seeming to prefer the familiarity of just his name.

“Thanks, Just Harvey,” you unashamedly laughed at your own dad joke, and Harvey joined you with laughter of his own. You were sure he’d heard it a million times, but he still laughed like it was his first time hearing it. “I’ll see you around?”

“Sounds good.”

Despite you and Harvey being in your own little world, that did little to change the fact that your sister and Maru were both in the waiting room, wordlessly and unabashedly observing the two of you.

“Give it to me straight, Doc. Is she gonna live?” your sister asked dramatically before theatrically clutching her chest.

“Fortunately. It was looking a little dicey there for a moment, but I think you’ll pull through,” he looked at you and smiled. You returned the gesture and laughed a little too hard, much like your sister had done with Maru not all that long ago. “Take care of yourself, okay? Feel free to come back if you need your hand re-wrapped.”

You nodded and your sister leaned over the desk where she was currently standing next to the nurse. “How much are we paying today?” she asked the two medical professionals in the room.

“Oh, it’s on the house,” Harvey dismissed, glancing at you, then at your sister.

“So my sister gets free appointments, but I have to foot the bill when I get a little tired and fall asleep in the town square. I see how it is.”

It was now Maru’s turn to laugh like it was her first time hearing a joke. “That’s such an understatement. Just enjoy the free medical treatment today.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you stepped closer to the exit, and your sister took the cue to leave. “It was nice meeting you guys,” you waved as you left.

“What was that!” your sister laughed out the moment you stepped outside of the clinic.

“What was what?”

“‘Thanks, Just Harvey,’” she mocked incredulously as the two of you walked towards her farm. “Is that seriously how you flirt?”

“No! Obviously I have more game than that.”

“But you think he’s cute?” your sister laughed and you felt your face warm.

“I did not say that,” you argued.

“I know you well enough to know that you’re thinking it,” she hummed, content with her observation. “It tracks. You would like him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“It means that you’re both each other’s type.”

“His type? Is he not, like, married with kids?”

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ as she kicked a pebble.

“How is that possible? He seems like such a sweetie,” you sighed dreamily, momentarily imagining him with a child that oddly looked like a combination of the two of you.

“You got all of that from him patching up your hand?” she peered at you skeptically. For a moment, it felt like she was reading your mind, her look a reflection of her disbelief that you were seriously fantasizing about a man you just met.

“You should’ve seen how tender he was being,” you gushed, not even caring that you sounded like a lovesick puppy. You thought about how softly he cradled your hand and unfurled your curled fingers and the pink across his cheeks as he told you that you were welcome in his clinic whenever.

“Yeah, he’s a nice guy,” your sister agreed, unmoved by your enthusiasm.

“Nice guy like, a nice guy? Or nice guy like nice guy?”

“Ew, definitely the first one. But there are definitely some nice guys in this town. Just wait until you meet Clint.”

“No thank you,” you laughed. “Not like it matters anyway. I’m really just passing through.”

“Fair. Besides, aren’t you still seeing Adam?”

“Eh,” you shrugged at the mention of your ex. “Not really.”

Your sister laughed at you once again. She seemed to be doing a lot of that. “Not really? What does that mean?”

“It means that…” you gave up on explaining before you could even begin. “It means that it’s none of your business.”

“Ah, I forgot. You lawyers don’t believe in giving real answers.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you whined, pushing her gently.

“You fuck off!” she laughed, pushing you right back. “Don’t forget, I’m the one giving you a place to sleep tonight. Although, I’m sure Harvey wouldn’t mind taking you in as a guest when I inevitably kick you out.”

“Please, please stop,” you begged, rubbing your temples.

“Should we go back and ask him?” she asked, turning on her heel.

“I will literally kill you.”

“Why does that sound like another excuse to go to the clinic and see your cute doctor?”

“Shut up! Like you weren’t giving the nurse heart eyes and laughing like she was a comedian every time she spoke.”

That gave her pause, making her turn around to look at you. She stared at you wordlessly for a minute, clearly trying to come up with something witty to say.

“Too far?”

“Kinda.”

“How about this: if you shut up about Harvey, I’ll shut up about Maru.”

“Deal. No more meddling in each other’s love lives.”

“Deal,” you agreed quickly—though, something told you that it would be a difficult promise for both of you to follow through on.

next chapter

#harvey sdv #harvey x farmer #sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey x farmer #harvey x reader #stardew valley harvey #stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic

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hannahbarberra162 · 6 months ago

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Opposites of Attraction (Kid x Reader, Enemies to Lovers)

No gods no masters only 1 million WIPs

A huge huge thanks to @nocturnalrorobin and @limitlesstildil for beta-ing this during the holidays for my needy ass.

18+ MDNI on Ao3

The other chapters

Kid POV

Walking around town on some shithole island he’d already forgotten the name of, Kid felt a strong pull towards the local dive bar. He and Killer had been going in that direction anyway, but the pull made him curious. He didn’t often feel them, it took a significant amount of metal for him to feel a pull that strong. With his Jiki Jiki no mi he could detect even trace amounts of iron, cobalt, and nickel but usually allowed the feeling to wash over him unnoticed. But this wasn’t a trace amount, this was something significant. And whatever it was, he wanted it. Even though he had complete mastery over his fruit, it relied on having metal to manipulate. In this part of the Grand Line, high-quality iron was difficult to find and Kid was working on accumulating as much as he could to prepare for upcoming battles. Whatever the metal was, he wanted it on his ship.

“A cannon?” Killer asked, seemingly apropos of nothing. After spending so many years together, Killer could read Kid’s microexpressions with ease and vice versa. On the battlefield it worked like telekenesis, helping the pair devastate whoever was in their path. During peacetime it helped them bed whoever they set their sights on with smooth talk and cheeky flirting, capturing and breaking hearts with ease all up and down the Grand Line.

“No, not a cannon, hafta find out,” Kid stated, throwing open the door to the bar. The air was heavy with dust and the smell of stale alcohol hit his nose as he scanned through the room. Nothing was amiss from a dive bar - there was booze, darts, a pool table, and various people drinking and talking loudly. There wasn’t anything significant made of metal at the business, only barstools, tables, and cups composed mostly of wood with only metal nails tugging at his consciousness. Locating the large amount of iron again, Kid found the metal deposit had moved locations and was now heading out the door as if on foot. Further intrigued, Kid attracted whatever the metal was gently, not wanting to damage it in case it was something precious.

Your POV

There was only one person you didn’t want to meet on the Grand Line. None of the high-bounty pirates bothered you in the slightest - except for one. If you died, well, it came with the territory of being a mercenary. You lived your life without fear, taking on jobs you wanted and turning down those you didn’t. It had landed you wherever you were at the moment on the Grand Line, looking for another job to take.

You were a fairly well-known mercenary on the Grand Line, notorious for using your Logia Devil Fruit in creative ways. As the owner of the Iron-Iron fruit, you had the ability to turn yourself completely into iron but also to make and manipulate iron as well. You could duplicate keys and pick locks in seconds, you could turn into molten iron and, of course, you could mold your arms into giant hammers and smash anyone in your way. You could protect yourself and others with shields, create shrapnel and expel it at rapid speeds, and even make your own silverware. You had worked hard to master your fruit and felt confident in your ability to fight for hire. Being so versatile meant you were able to demand a high salary if someone was seeking you out specifically. You were happy with your life as you’d made it, adventures of your choosing awaiting you at every turn.

Now, the one person you didn’t want to meet was across the bar, flexing his gigantic metal hand as he stood in the doorway, looking around. Quickly chugging the rest of your beer you slammed the glass down on the bar and hightailed it out the back door. You knew very well who he was - Eustass “Captain” Kid - and you had no desire to ever meet him face to face. Nearly sprinting out the door, you made your escape into the alleyway that led back to the town.

Or you tried to.

You were being attracted to Kid by his Devil Fruit power, being pulled against your will towards the Captain. You had feared something like this would happen - even without using your fruit power some amount of your essense was tied to the Iron Iron fruit, giving Kid the ability to magnetize you. Scrambling for purchase, you tried holding on to the doorframe of the back door but the pull was too strong. Your whole body felt like it was being pulled towards Kid and you had to let go of the doorframe or your fingernails would be ripped off. You decided to try for the dignified route and go to him instead of being pulled. Turning on your heel, you marched up to the Captain of the Kid Pirates faster than the pull was dragging you. It almost felt like you were flying as you moved with the magnetism instead of fighting it.

“Oi. What do you want?” you asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Kid was taller than you’d expected, towering over you with a frown. He was massive, his wanted posters not doing justice to how solid he was. You resisted the urge to punch him with an iron fist for pulling you to him. For now. You could feel his magnetism still drawing you in as you continued to step closer to him. He didn’t step back.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, scowling down at you.

“You brought me here, shithead. You tell me,” you snapped back unamused. The Captain might have some kind of control over your body movements but he didn’t control your mouth. And yes, maybe it had gotten you in trouble before but with your Logia power, you never had a problem backing it up. By now you were practically stepping on his feet as he remained where he stood.

“The fuck you talkin’ about Squirt? You some kinda robot? And the fuck you doing?” he asked, looking you up and down while you were compelled to get even closer to him. You had to tilt your face up to avoid smushing it into his bare, muscled chest.

“You some kinda idiot?” you retorted, trying to ignore the weird position the magnetism had you in. God, if Kid was always this dense you weren’t sure how he’d gotten so far in life. Though if that wasn’t a pistol in his pocket, you could form a guess. You were completely flush against him, your chest to his front. His large body was radiating heat and you had a fleeting urge to hug him. As a Logia user, you didn’t really get cold but you didn’t often get to feel warm either. You avoided most touch outside of violence and sex, this may have been the closest you’d been to a man in a while. Kid smelled better than you expected as well, like well-worn leather and oil rather than body odor and stale piss like you’d imagined he would.

“She’s that mercenary,” the Massacre Soldier interjected, holding a beer in his hand. You idly wondered how he’d drink it with the mask on but he pulled a metal straw out of his pocket. It attracted and stuck to Kid’s metal arm as the pull was still going.

“Turn it off. I want to drink,” Killer requested calmly. The Captain grunted but finally turned off his magnetism and Killer grabbed his straw off his Captain’s arm before it fell to the ground. You were able to take a few steps back and glare at the man ruining your night and possibly your life.

“You that Iron Logia user?” he asked with a wicked grin.

“You already know the fuckin’ answer, dickwad. Why were you looking for me? And don’t call me Squirt, assface,” you said with a toss of your head.

“Got a mouth on you, huh? Don’t matter, join my crew - I can use your powers. You make metal and I could use it to make weapons and -” the Captain started explaining his reasoning as you tuned him out. He’d clearly already thought about some schemes and ideas for your future and you weren’t interested in finding out what they were.

“No,” you stated firmly, grabbing a large beer off a waitress’s tray as she passed by.

“Why the fuck not? It’s better than anything else you’d be doing. What, you need to escort more asshole nobles to a summer island for vacation or some shit like that?” he balked as you chugged the dark ale in one go. Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand, you dropped the mug to the floor and crushed it under your foot.

“Cus I don’t want to,” you said, taking another step towards the Captain. This time it was by choice you felt like getting in his face and confronting him.

“You’re already a mercenary, what’s the fuckin’ difference between joining my crew and anyone else’s? We’re a strong crew, my bounty is 3 billion, you can’t do better than that,” Kid demanded, his red-painted mouth sputtering with anger as if the idea that you’d refuse never occurred to him.

“The difference is I don’t want to,” you explained calmly as if you were talking to a child. It only enraged the Captain more as he turned as red as his hair. You had a feeling that if you stepped foot on the Victoria Punk, you’d never get off it. More than that, you didn’t want to be around someone who could control your body whenever they wanted to. You weren’t sure exactly what the limitations of your fruit were when not in use, but being around Kid meant your powers would just be an extension of his own - something he had already figured out. No, you wanted to keep your freedom and your life and that didn’t include being the metal monkey for one Eustass Kid and his gigantic ego.

But there was more to it than that. You’d heard about his personality and what he was like so you knew a working relationship wouldn’t be possible. He was crude, stubborn, brash, quick to anger, and so were you. You’d contracted with similar high maintenance Captains in the past and it had never worked out. You became a mercenary because you didn’t like taking orders or being beholden to anyone and someone like Kid couldn’t handle insubordination. His ego was larger than his already gigantic skull and you wouldn’t be able to resist butting heads every chance you got. Kid was the exact kind of Captain you refused to take contracts from, even without the Jiki Jiki no mi.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Massacre Soldier watching the heated conversation while drinking his beer with the straw. The mask didn’t allow his expressions to show but you got an impression of amusement from the infamous first mate.

“Well, too bad for you Squirt. I don’t care about what you want and don’t want,” he said while mimicking your higher voice. “I need metal and you’re gonna make it. Now let’s get drunk,” the Captain stated, turning with a flourish to go to the bar, his cape billowing behind him. You made one more attempt to flee from Kid but before you made it two steps you were attached to his metal arm, held in place by a strong magnetic field. You felt like a decorative magnet as your limbs dangled helplessly off his arm while your torso was stuck to him. You took up nearly the whole metal contraption with your body but he paid you no mind. You tried wiggling and squirming but nothing was going to dislodge you from his arm until he turned off the field.

“Turn it off you fuckin’ cocksleeve! Put me down right the fuck NOW!” you demanded, making your fist into iron out of habit. As expected, it magnetized to his arm instantly with a loud clang before you could even pull back to punch him. Kid laughed in your face as you glowered at him.

“That was your plan? Turn into more metal for me to magnetize? Dumb fuckin’ idea, Squirt,” he said, reaching the bar. Kid jostled your entire body as he slammed his flesh fist onto the bar, cracking the wood in two.

“Oi! Barkeep! Get me a shot glass and some booze,” he bellowed across the room to the panicking barkeep. The Kid pirates were known for creating chaos at the slightest inconvenience, yet another grievance you had against them. Though you often felt like destroying things, it made coming back to any particular island more difficult. Following along with a crew or scoping out locations was considerably harder when the Kid pirates left an island as a decimated crater.

“Get me somethin’ too! Fucking cheap ass,” you grumbled, still attached to his arm. You were slightly impressed that he carried you like you weighed nothing, which gave you an idea. You turned your entire body to iron suddenly, causing him to dip on one side due to your immense increase in weight. If you caught him off guard, maybe he’d drop the field and you could get away. Unfortunately, Kid grunted but righted himself quickly, pulling his arm up to the bar once more. He was as strong as he looked, the muscles weren’t just for show, you thought to yourself.

“Quit bein’ so fuckin’ annoying!” Kid complained, taking his first shot. You tried grabbing the bottle of booze but he held it out of your reach easily. You felt like a kid who was being held back by their head, swinging their arms and legs in a futile effort to hit their opponent.

“Me?! Being annoying!? You’re kidnapping me you titty-twisted ape!” you yelled back, turning yourself back to flesh to talk. If being completely metal wasn’t going to work you’d at least be able to give him a piece of your mind before he took you to his ship.

“I’m not kidnapping you, I’m hiring you permanently,” Kid said with a snicker. Reaching over the counter and grabbing a few more bottles, Kid turned away from the bar. Popping the cork off some rum, he drank directly from the bottle. He handed the unopened bottle to the Massacre Soldier, who did the same but stuck his straw in it instead.

“And your contract starts now,” he said with finality, leaving the dive with the Massacre Soldier following. Everything in you wanted to flail and scream but it wouldn’t do any good, you were made of iron and he controlled magnetic fields. You assumed he was heading back to his ship to drink more and pass out. You had a similar plan until Kid had ruined it. Still dangling, you considered the masked man walking alongside Kid.

“Hi, you must be the Massacre Soldier. It’s nice to meet you. I’m a big fan of your work,” you said pleasantly, sticking out your hand. The man stuck out his own scarred arm and shook your hand with a firm grasp.

“Killer. Nice to meet you too,” Killer responded pleasantly. You smiled at him and hoped he did the same behind the mask.

“What the fuck? You talk nice to him but not me?” Kid said, shaking you slightly.

“Fuck you, you’re kidnapping me. I have no problems with Killer, why would I be rude? I’m not a dick to random strangers,” you finished with a hiss. It was getting tiring being carried around like a purse. Intent on resuming your conversation, you looked at Killer again.

“If you’re ever interested in becoming a mercenary, let me know. I think we’d work well together,” you continued, nodding at the handsome man as the three of you reached the docks.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! You can’t recruit Killer while I’m recruiting -”

“Kidnapping -”

“Recruiting you!” Kid yelled into your face as he brought you up to his own. You narrowed your eyes. No one - no one - yelled at you like that and got away with it. Not anymore. You couldn’t hit him so you did the next best thing.

You spat in his face.

Kid POV

The glob of spit trailed slowly down his cheek as he stared at you incredulously, a growl escaping his throat. You pointed your finger at him defiantly and spoke quietly, nearly a whisper, undeterred by his reddening face and growing anger. You were either stupid or brave - he didn’t particularly care right now. Kid wouldn’t tolerate disrespect of any kind, especially not in front of his crew. Kid knew Killer was watching, waiting to see what he’d do.

“Don’t ever speak to me like that,” you said, your eyes flashing with rage. Kid was so shocked that he had yet to respond to you. He’d talk to you however he liked, he was the Captain of the crew and you worked for him now. Coming up with a quick plan, Kid smiled his most menacing grin at you. It didn’t seem to have the intended effect as you weren’t cowed in the slightest. He didn’t want to hurt you, he still needed you to make metal for him. Besides, you’d be on his crew now and he never hurt his own crew members intentionally.

“I’ll say whatever I want, Squirt. But I don’t think you can,” he sneered, using his magnetism with a little finesse. As expected, your mouth slammed shut, leaving you unable to speak or even move your lips. He hadn’t thought through all the implications of you being made of iron when he first met you but now he could really see the value in having you aboard. He could control your every movement if he wished, down to your lush little mouth. You tried showing him your anger through your eyes but Kid just laughed.

“Much better now, huh? Don’t have to listen to your bullshit yapping,” Kid said, sitting in the dinghy of the ship. Holding his arm over the side, he held his arm with you face down over the water as he repelled the boat towards his beloved Victoria Punk.

“Don’t piss me off too much or the last sight you’ll see is my sweet face,” he sneered. You flipped him off with your free hand, pissing him off even more. Kid decided to have a little fun and dunked his arm up to the shoulder (and you) underwater, just for a few seconds. Kid relished the panic on your face the moment before you realized his intention and the inevitability of being dipped in the water. His metal arm got wet but it was worth it to see you sputtering in indignation with your now sopping hair sticking to your face.

“Might want to let her open her mouth for a moment to breathe,” Killer suggested, tying the dinghy to the Punk as you breathed as rapidly as you could through your nose.

“Nah, you’re fine, ain’t you?” Kid asked, shaking off his arm. You, of course, didn’t answer. Kid laughed, enjoying the fury on your expressive face as you shook your limbs in an attempt to get off as much seawater as you could. You took in the ship adorned with a fish skeleton in front of you, your eyes skittering across the multitude of metal adorning the ship.

“Welcome to the Victoria Punk, Squirt.”

#kid x reader #kid x you #enemies to lovers #op x y/n #x reader #reader insert #killer op #kid pirates #this isn't kidnapping #it's more like #non consensual taking you to his ship #he just needs you to work for him #even when you don't want to #can you blame him?#he needs you duh stop being annoying

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katyaromanoffpetrova · 1 year ago

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The only fool on April Fools'

Natasha thought she came up with the best prank ever. But she forgot exactly who she was trying to prank.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 2.7k • Warnings: suggestive talk Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

A/N: a late birthday post from me :)

2028

Natasha could not stop looking at her hands on the steering wheel. More specifically, she couldn't stop looking at her nails. Every time they caught her eye when she went to change the song on the radio or flick her blinker, the smuggest smirk took over her entire face.

She'd been thinking long and hard about this year's prank. April Fools' Day was a serious occasion for her and Katya, a holiday they planned for for months. It started in 2010 when Natasha had been brave enough to prank her girlfriend at the time, and it developed from there. The only rule they had was that the pranks shouldn't be too humiliating. Just funny. So there was a lot of creative freedom.

This year, she really nailed it. It was hilarious. She was hilarious, and Katya was going to be so pissed. She thought Natasha had just gone to get a haircut, but she'd be getting the worst surprise of her life when she showed her what she'd actually been doing in the city.

Was it cruel? Yes. But Katya replaced all the Oreo cookie filling with toothpaste last year. Natasha's Oreo cookies. And she filled a donut with mayo. So Natasha wanted to let her feel that same pain. Only more subtly.

When she walked into the house, pushing her smirk aside for the sake of the prank, the smell of cake filled her nostrils. It smelled delicious, like chocolate and butter. A special recipe that Katya had been meaning to try. Too bad that Natasha wouldn't be eating a single piece of it, considering there was probably salt in it instead of sugar, but at least she knew where to find her darling wife.

Prepared to feel incredibly smug and pleased, she strolled into the kitchen. Katya stood with her back turned, softly singing a song as she mixed something with the handheld electronic mixer. The noise drowned out the sound of Natasha's footsteps, so she didn't hear her come in. It only prolonged the excitement. "Smells good in here."

Katya jumped, quickly turning off the mixer. "Oh. Hi, baby!" An adoring smile spread across her lips as she turned around. Natasha almost felt bad for her upcoming prank. Almost. "Let me see your hair." A crease formed between her brows as she studied Natasha's long red locks. "It doesn't look any different," she said carefully, as if she was afraid to offend her new haircut.

Natasha smiled sheepishly, glancing down at her hands. "Yeah, well, you know… I was planning on getting my hair done, but then I passed a nail salon, and, well…" Instead of explaining, she simply brought her hands up, holding her nails out for Katya to see.

When the nail stylist asked her what shape she wanted, Natasha told her to go for the pointest, most stabby looking nail she could do, and she hadn't disappointed. Two inches long, all of them ended in a point that could seriously poke somebody's eye out. The deep red color and the black details turned them into the sexiest murder weapons she'd ever had. The sexiest, most inconvenient weapons ever. They were lowkey homophobic.

She saw the different emotions cross Katya's face one by one. Excitement, at first. Probably because she was happy Natasha spoiled herself, or she liked the nails. Then hesitation. Then realization. Then anger, which manifested with a slight twitch of her brows. And lastly…

Actually, Natasha couldn't decipher the emotion that slid over the anger. It was like Katya mentally paused before she could get really angry, and then decided on a different course. All of it happened within a second. Her brain was just that fast at assessing a situation.

An excited gasp flew from her lips. "They look so good, honey!" Katya exclaimed, carefully taking Natasha's hands in her own to see her nails better. "The design is so simple yet so elegant. It really suits you!"

Natasha inwardly frowned, her smugness plummeting. This was not the reaction she had been hoping for. Not by miles. But she wasn't giving up yet. "What do you think about the length?" She smiled, mirroring Katya's excitement. "I wanted to go even longer, but I've never had nails before so I didn't want to overdo it."

"No, I love it! It suits your hand shape really well."

To Natasha's even bigger surprise, Katya let her hands go to grab her cheeks instead, pulling her close to press a sweet kiss to her lips. Her blue eyes sparkled joyfully. "I'm so glad you treated yourself to something nice. You deserve it."

Then she turned around and went back to making the icing for her cake.

Natasha stood there, lost, wondering how this had gone completely the opposite way of how she wanted. Katya was supposed to be upset, asking her what she was thinking, getting long ass nails as a woman in a lesbian relationship. With those weapons on her fingers, she could not use them for her favorite activity whatsoever.

But instead of getting pissed, Katya got the opposite. She happily sang, swaying her body as she finished mixing her icing. Not a care in the world.

Natasha's prank had dramatically failed.

"Look how good this looks." Katya suddenly turned around, a big scoop of chocolate icing on her pointer finger. Slowly, she brought it to her lips, sucking her finger into her mouth and pulling it out. "Hmm, so good," she moaned.

The very bottom part of Natasha's stomach twisted into knots. She couldn't find her words as she watched Katya lick off the icing in a way that was incredibly sensual. And not by accident.

''Yep, that's done!" She beamed. Katya covered the bowl with some foil and put it in the fridge, happily twirling around to a still frozen Natasha. ''I'm going to lift some weights. Could use a spotter.''

''I—'' Natasha mentally slapped herself, swallowing thickly. ''Sure.''

Katya perked up. ''Okay. Give me a minute to change.''

She wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what those nails meant. It meant her wife was an ass. An ass who didn't want to get laid for a few weeks, apparently.

Her first instinct was to get pissed. Get pissed at Natasha for partly ruining their sex life. Because while they owned many replacements, Natasha's fingers would always be her favorite, and they were not going up there looking like that.

But then Katya realized that getting angry was exactly what her wife was after. And what better way to ruin a prank by pretending not to see it? In fact, she was going to throw Natasha's own prank right back at her, make her miserable. Show her that getting these nails would come back to bite her in the ass. Fast.

Nobody messed with her.

Choosing her smallest sports bra and tightest cycling shorts, Katya threw her hair up and returned to Natasha. The woman seemed to be disoriented, or at least deep in thought. She was in the exact spot Katya left her ten minutes earlier, frowning at the countertop. When she did look up, Katya purposely flexed her biceps as she tightened her ponytail, drawing Natasha's gaze directly to her arms.

Her green eyes darkened as they took in Katya's figure. Everything that wasn't bare skin was skin-tight. And while her body didn't look the way it did when she was twenty-four—duh—Natasha still thought it was hot as hell. She wanted to grab it, bend it over the counter—

''Earth to Nat.''

Natasha rapidly blinked, pulling her head out of the clouds. ''Hm?''

Katya had a huge grin on her face that she tried to hide. ''I said; are you coming?''

''Oh, yes.''

She didn't even try to not stare at Katya's ass as the brunette walked in front of her. It was right there, shaking in those spandex shorts. The urge to grab it and press her nails—oh. With a frown, Natasha looked down at her pointy nails. She couldn't grab Katya's butt and press the top of her nails down at the same time.

''Hmm…'' Katya stopped in the doorframe of the garage—their home gym. ''What do you reckon I should do first?''

''Ass.'' Natasha was just in time to bring her gaze upwards when Katya spun around, staring straight into her raised eyebrow. Her cheeks heated up when she realized what her half-horny brain had thrown out. ''I meant squats.''

''Squats it is.'' Katya smiled.

Even the process of setting it all up drove Natasha up the wall. To get the weights on the bar, Katya had to lift them, and because she barely wore a shirt, her back, shoulder, and arm muscles visibly flexed for Natasha to see. Her hands itched, but she suspected Katya was playing a game, and she wasn't going to give in.

They both weren't going to give in. So it was going to be a game of who can hold out the longest.

If things progressed this way, Natasha was one hundred percent sure she was going to lose.

''Okay.'' Katya excessively bent over to put her resistance band down. She'd warmed her muscles—doing some very deep deep squats—and secured her ponytail once more. ''I'm ready.''

Natasha knew it was going to be a mistake when she stepped behind Katya. She knew she was digging her own grave. The brunette pressed her ass into her front and flexed her muscles way more than necessary as she adjusted her grip on the bar resting on her shoulders. Natasha clenched her jaw to keep still and quiet, but the frustration started to build.

Down Katya went for the first squat, pausing a few seconds before she went up again. Natasha squatted along with her, forcing herself to pay attention to the bar and only the bar. She wondered if she could even close her hands around it in case Katya needed her help. Those damn claws of her were probably in the way.

She was about to breathe out in relief when Katya didn't pull any stunts on the way up.

Then she let out the sexiest grunt ever.

Natasha nearly collapsed through her knees. Dirty memories of times where Katya grunted like that flashed through her head. Half an hour of teasing and she was on the very edge of damning it all to hell. Screw her dignity. She wanted something else to screw, and fast.

Down, Katya went again, audibly breathing out as she went down, and grunting when she straightened up. Down, breathing out. Up, grunting.

Three times, Natasha kept herself together with great difficulty. On the forth grunt, her sexual frustration snapped.

''Put it down.''

Katya smirked to herself. She expected her wife to keep it together a bit longer, but obviously her plan was working. ''What? Why? I've just started,'' she said innocently, pretending to be extremely confused the same way she'd been pretending to be stupid.

''Put the thing down.''

Carefully, Katya racked the bar, furrowing her brows as she turned to face the fuming redhead. Before she could blink, Natasha had her pinned against one of the squat rack's poles. She felt all that frustration in the way her spine bumped against the metal. ''What's going on?'' Her eyes widened like that of a deer in headlights.

''Stop playing dumb.''

''Playing dumb?''

Natasha took one good look at her and knew she wasn't going to give in. Katya could play the innocent persona as long as she wished to, no matter what threat Natasha would sling at her head. Torture training as a kid clearly worked better for her. The only thing she had to do was grunt a bit and Natasha was a goner.

A groan of frustration filled the garage. This was cruelty in the most ruthless way. Dangling the richest, most tasteful, most expensive wine in front of an alcoholic but not letting them have a taste. Collecting all her self-control, Natasha backed away, stalking off without so much as another word.

Katya snickered proudly, smirking as she turned back to the squat rack. Her plan was going amazingly so far. These weren't the only tricks up her sleeve.

The torture continued throughout the day. She was doing the dishes? She accidentally got the front of her shirt all wet, and didn't happen to wear a bra. The dinner table needed a good clean? She was bent all over that thing trying to get the spots in the middle. She was vacuuming? She was on her hands and knees on the floor trying to vacuum underneath the couch.

Wherever Natasha went, she also miraculously had to be. The redhead could not escape her. It was torture training. But in a way she'd never been tortured before.

The weapons on her hands had gone from ''the funniest things ever'' to ''I'm going to rip my whole nail off if it means I get to stuff my hand down her pants''. She couldn't take it anymore. Sexual frustration built and built until her stomach was in a permanent knot and her hands were constantly sweaty.

Two hours before Maya was meant to be coming home, Natasha couldn't take it anymore. The groans, grunts, and sighs, and the positions Katya bent her body in finally pushed her over the edge.

Fine, her wife had won. But taking a hit to her ego and pride was worth it if she could finally get her hands between those legs.

She didn't even bother soaking her nails off. She simply took nail cutters to them and cut them all off as short as possible. Then she filed them down roughly, paying extra attention to the middle three fingers of her left hand, and tossed everything in the trash.

Katya heard her coming from miles away, her rushed footsteps before Natasha cornered her in the laundry room. She saw them immediately; her nails. Or the lack thereof.

Concerned, she dropped a t-shirt back in the laundry basket, trying to reach for her hands. ''Oh, no, what did you do to your nails?''

But Natasha wasn't taking this innocent bullshit anymore. ''You drive me absolutely nuts. You pest,'' she grumbled. Her voice lacked serious anger as she slowly backed Katya up against the washing machine. Instead, it was laced with reluctant defeat and annoyance. Annoyance at herself.

A sly smile overtook Katya's features as she gripped the edge of the machine for stability. It looked like her wife had been through it. ''Ready to admit you made a mistake then?''

''I hate you.''

Katya chuckled softly. ''You dug your own grave, babe. Worst prank ever. Well, for you then. It was so much fun for me.'' She smirked teasingly as she slowly trailed her fingers up Natasha's arm. The game was still going on. Even now. The glare Natasha sent her was weak at most. ''Don't forget who you're messing with.''

Natasha rolled her eyes, leaning forward to connect their lips, thinking this was it. But Katya jerked her head back, amusement swimming in her eyes.

''Nuh-uh. Say it.''

''Say it?'' The redhead grumbled impatiently, seconds away from throwing a fit.

Katya nodded smugly, her fingers slowly trailing down Natasha's arm. ''I need to hear it. I…''

Natasha clenched her teeth together to swallow back the vile words and accusations that Katya would only laugh at. She didn't think she would be this cruel, giving her dignity another slap in the face by making her vocally admit her mistake like a child. Unfortunately, Natasha didn't have another option.

She squinted her eyes, placing as much displeasure in her words as she could. ''I made a mistake thinking I could outsmart my mean, cruel wife.''

Happy, Katya grinned, grabbing Natasha's hips to pull them flush against her own. This victory tasted sweeter than her chocolate cake downstairs. She won April Fools'. And she didn't even have to do anything for it. ''You know, it's really not my fault you get so riled up.''

Natasha usually loved to bicker, but she couldn't take it anymore. Her gaze kept drifting down from Katya's eyes to her lips when she talked, and if she wouldn't get her mouth or hands on her body right this instant, she was going to explode. ''Respectfully, shut up. You had your fun, now it's time for mine.''

''Yeah, those nails aren't going up there looking like that.''

#katandnat #katyaromanoffpetrova #forgotten ghost series #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!oc #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #black widow #marvel #mcu #wlw #lesbian #sapphic #natasha romanoff fluff

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just-an-emily-existing · 2 months ago

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To celebrate my birthday I gave myself an updated ref sheet!

Headcanons and more below!

🩷✨Emily✨🩷

Element: Suit of Cards

Birthday: May 13 2005

Age: 20

Zodiac: Taurus

Chinese Horoscope: Rooster

Spirit Animal: Hyrax

Height: 5'0

Sexuality: Bisexual and Polyromantic

Gender: Genderfluid

Pronouns: He/She

Personality Type: INFP

IQ: Idk I’d say like 87?

Nicknames: Emmy (Douglas)

Allergies: None

Disabilities: None

Right or Left Handed: Right

Quirks/Habits: Picks fingers often and brushes hair as a way to stim

Home Town: Not telling you 🫵😐

Nationality: American

Siblings: None

Who is the most important person in her life: Douglas

Person he looks up to the most: Douglas

Best Friend: Thomas, Rosie, Percy

Lover: Douglas

Rival: D10

If she could have a superpower it would be: Teleportation

Dream Job: Famous Artist

Biggest Fear: Being forgotten or ignored

Biggest Flaw: Has to be in control

Favorite Holiday: Halloween

Favorite Animal: Giraffe and Hyrax

Favorite Hobby: Drawing

Favorite Color: Pink

Favorite Food: Ramen

Favortie Drink: Gatorade

Least Favorite Food: Cabbage rolls

Favorite Season: Spring and Summer

Favorite Movie: TATMR

Favorite Book: Everlost by Neal Shusterman

Favorite Singer/Artist: Bear Ghost

Very skilled at: Cleaning

Least skilled at: Gaining motivation to do literally anything

Greatest Achievement: Graduating high school

Pet Peeves: Tapping feet

Introvert or Extrovert: Introvert

Organized or Messy: Both

Is she good at singing: Yes

Can he bake: Yes

Can she cook: yes

Does he play any sports: No

Instrument: Voice

Facts

Loves to sleep with the fan on.

Cannot go to sleep without washing her hands.

Had a makeship body pillow of sweaters that he pretends is Douglas.

Loves to paint her nails.

Is always tired.

Likes to clean.

Is a night owl.

It's either all of nothing when he commits to something.

Loves anything sweet, spicy or just flavourful in general.

Is always singing or repeating the same 5 seconds of her favorite song.

Will not hesitate to beat tf out of any unruly truck.

Has karaoke nights with her girlfriends.

Loves to draw and is very good at it.

Also has very bad ADHD.

Hates drinking.

Hates being told what to do.

Don’t fuck with her when she’s on her period, she’ll probably kill you.

Loves playing video games, eating and drawing

Loves to put her own spin on things (mainly creative things).

Is very emotionally sensitive.

Loves coming up with new drawing/ writing or any creative ideas but always finds it very hard to actually execute them.

Motto: “You’ll get it together eventually, even if your life is chaos right now.”

Theme Songs

American Baby - Dave Matthews

Idontwannabeyouanymore - Billie Eilish

#LMAO I FORGOT MY HAIR SHADING XD #ttte #thomas the tank engine #thomas and friends #ttte humanized #ttte human au #my art #humanisation #Ttte Emily 💖#My Ttte Art #The Stesel Team Au

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masked-men-fantasy · 1 year ago

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Favorite Kink (Rainbow Six Siege)

You and them are getting along for awhile. It's time to learn more about their truest, deepest desire.

NSFW Content. MDNI.

Tachanka

Breeding Kink: Tachanka will whisper how well you take him, how his virile seed performs inside your fertile body, how your belly will grow, what the baby with you and him will look like, and how well he will take care of you once the baby is born. Fear not; if you are not ready for a baby yet, he will not do it without any protection. He will wait until you accept to be fully bred by him.

Bondage kink: Alexsandr was always drawn to the idea of tying you up with rope. Be the one in charge in the room with you losing all control completely. And my, oh my, Alexsandr is sure one hell of a dirty talker. He has a dictionary of dirty words inside his head, both in English and Russian. He knows how to use his voice and his Russian to his advantage, to turn you on, and to make sure you beg for more on his bed.

Body worship kink: It is not easy to maintain the physique. Although it is part of his work, it is still challenging. Hence, Tachanka is very proud of his muscles and, overall, of his body. Guide your hand over his body. Give him plenty of massages and kisses. Perhaps compliment him on how handsome he is when he has those unique tattoos on his body. If you did this right, you can expect a hell of a ride tonight.

Kapkan

Hunter and prey kink: Maxim is a hunter by nature. He was raised to be a hunter, live like a hunter, and therefore enjoy sexual life like a hunter. If you both had a long holiday, he would bring you to the silent woods. Not well-known, no people, perfect for hunting you. Kapkan will let you run away from his hut for an hour before he starts hunting you down. You might step into his non-lethal trap, or perhaps you might cause the sound by accident and give away your location. And in the end, with his skill, he will, of course, catch you within less than two hours. Be prepared for rough, animalistic sex in the middle of the forest and on the way back to his hut. You won't get any breaks from him. Well, you cannot blame him for such behavior. The adrenaline kicked in after the thrill of the hunt, and you are too gorgeous. Plus, he deserves his reward for finally catching you with his hand.

Marking kink: Oh, and what comes along with hunter and prey kink is also his habit of marking. Kapkan hunted you down to own you. Therefore, he has to prove that you are his property. Be prepared for plenty of bite marks, hickeys, or some nail scratches. Fear not; you can do the same to him, and he is not afraid to show those marks to the rest of the Spetsnaz Unit. He takes your mark on his body as a trophy of pride.

Deimos

Sex toy kink: Deimos is a man of gadgets. His ability to engineer also grants him creativity for sex toys as well. He has many modified versions of sex toys. Extremely high-strength vibrator and e-stim, custom-made dildo that is exactly the same shape as his cock, or the best one yet, a drone that will monitor you while you masturbate while he is on a long mission. He has even more in store, and he cannot wait to use them with you.

Chastity kink: To be Deimos' lover, discipline and submission are must-haves. He wants to make sure that you are his and completely belong to him. A chastity device is one way to prove that. He will take the key that locked your chastity cage as a necklace on his dog tag. Also, while he is away on another mission, he will constantly remind you by making you squirm with his deep, husky, dominant voice. He will order you to touch yourself through the cage and deny your orgasm just at the right time. And all of this will pay off well once Deimos is back home; the sex after that will be one of the best experiences you ever had.

#rainbow six siege #r6s #r6 #r6s deimos #tachanka x reader #kapkan x reader #deimos x reader #tachanka x male reader #kapkan x male reader #deimos x male reader #masked men #masked man #kapkan #tachanka #deimos

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saranilssonbooks · 9 months ago

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100 Moby-Dick covers ranked by your's truly. Thank you so much to all those of you who sent in contributions and helped make this completely out of proportion project a thing. Jars of angelic spermaceti for everyone! 🤍

As for the ranking, it is purely the result of my own personal taste in aesthetics and heavily influenced by my perception of the story. Add to that a generous amount of sentimentality, as shall be apparent.

What I have been mainly looking at in judging the designs is as follows...

- General appearance; is it attractive? 💕

- Does it help sufficiantly communicate the nature of the story (theme, genre, mood, plot)? ⚰️

- Is it canon? (Meaningful creative licence perfectly allowed!) ✅️

As for the tiers themselves, we have...

Topmost Greatness: this is something out of the ordinary, possibly genius and also I neeeeed it for my collection!

A: Good, good stuff, but might lack that very extra special something

B: Gets the job done, agreeable, totally okay.

C: It's not exactly bad and I'll let that oopsie over there slide, but I probably wouldn't pay much for this one.

You Had One Job: Yeah, you did.

Should Never Have Surfaced: Makes the Pequod tragedy look like a merry holiday.

Art thou ready?

TOPMOST GREATNESS

1. The most beautiful Moby-Dick cover I've ever seen. I was almost tempted to create a tier higher than Topmost Greatness only so that I could place it there.

2. Brilliant composition and color choice, despite its simplicity it hits me straight in the soul.

3. I remember drooling over this in the book store back in the day and considered reading it only because it was so gorgeous. Manages to be both crowded and clean at the same time. Story instantly recognizable.

4. The classiest of all time? Forever a winner!

5. I show the image of this one to people to make them understand the creative brilliancy that thrives within the Moby-Dick community.

6. Captures the mood in a fittingly crooked, awkward way that makes my heart beat faster. (Also reminds me of my copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest for some reason.)

7. Another sort of awkward one, but I love the style, I love the surreal combination of drama and stiffness, pretty fitting the story itself. Makes 'Hab look a bit like the Grim Reaper.

8. The erratic painting technique gives me the perfect kind of crazy vibes.

9. Moby-Dick, a bibliophile's dream, topmost mood nailing, superior dark academia accessory... what more could anyone wish for in a book?

10. So well thought out and the claustrophobic feel helps to create an unsettling mood despite the otherwise quite cheery colors. Sorry, Madagascar.

11. Look, my two main areas of Moby-Dick interest is Ahab and rhe psychology, so... y'know.

12. Mood certainly set.

13. Guess I have a thing for harpoon/eye symbolism. Again that claustrophobic feel by leaving only a sliver of crowded surface.

14. First physical Moby-Dick copy I ever bought. All the books in this Penguin series are gorgeous, but to me this is one of the design winners regardless of the contents.

15. Unsettled in all this tropical serenity yet?

16. The boldness in color choice and to focus on the fire theme is as unusual as it is exciting, and the very modern touch makes it even more interesting!

17. Not normally a style I'm drawn to, but somehow this manages to capture my interest. A successful nod to the painting at the Spouter Inn, lovely line work. My sibling got me this one as a locket for my last b-day.

18. My beloved companion, by now containing almost as much tape as paper. The 19th century poster design is irresistable to me. A white tail would've been even cooler though.

19. It's not that unique looking, yet the worn feel and harpooned Moby Dick simply gets to me somehow.

20. All the crucial elements skillfully and effectivly forged (no pun intended) together.

21. The way the psychology has been captured and the missing leg detail is yum!

22. Kind of busy but so unique and interesting! Yes plz.

23. Another classic! How could Kent's iconic whale ever fail?

24. Aiming for the adventure theme, it appears, and successfully so. Unusual color choice which I happen to be all about. Total vintage feel!

25. Again, not that much is happening, but the ropes, the character design, the inking... I love you, cover, and I need you in my life!

26. An often used scene, but the style gets to me so, so bad.

27. I'm not that much about the washed out color, but the rest is love.

28. Very basic, but also very nice and display friendly and I enjoy the vibe so much.

29. Almost made it to Topmost, but the positioning of the illustration gives off a cheap feel to me. Why couldn't you have used that gorgeous theme depiction to better advantage? Can one order a remake? Or a cropped poster?

30. Love the composition so much but the technique simply doesn't do it quite enough for me to move up one full notch. Still want it so bad for the collection though.

31. Runny ink on pure white is something I associate with Moby-Dick, don't know why. The blotchiness is a really great touch.

32. The design doesn't say much concerning the content, but nevertheless it is so pretty and am I correct when I say there's harpoon vibes?

33. Had that been a white whale, it would've ended up under Topmost!

34. My first reaction to this was that it's a really interesting piece of art, but I wasn't so sure I liked it as much in book cover form. The more I look at it, the more intrigued and enamoured I get. I want more of this.

35. Ahab and Moby Dick from Ahab's POV? Love the distorted psychedelic atmosphere, but another one with missed full illustration use potential.

36. Brings back the menory of cigarettes and fear. Granny the Gregory Peck fan owned one of these and it freaked me out where she kept it on display ever after I'd been forced to watch the movie at age 6. Now I want one just for the hell of it.

37. Okay, so hear me out. I know it's a children's book, but the illustrator obviously knew the story. Love the tangling rope and that Ahab's prosthetic leg seems made out of whale bone rather than wood for once.

38. Nice modern touch, but that's straight up the New Bedford whaler statue, which kinda ruins it for me.

39. Lovely, lovely design, but I simply don't associate it with a story about suicidal tendencies, gore, and mass death.

40. A somewhat unusual character choice to pose on a cover, but hey, I'll take it! :D

41. Doesn't pop, but I do like me some traditional Japanese art vibes!

42. Elegant, but the huge M obscures the title text and the harpoon looks as if crossed with a sewing needle.

43. Basic, but the feel is there and I like the color combination for this story.

44. Love the art and it's impossible not to identify which story this is, but I have several Ahab design choice questions which won't leave me.

45. This whole thing is odd and busy, but I also really like it!

46. Speaking of Japanese traditional art. The lines and the moodiness is much to my liking.

47. Simple, spot on, nothing that extra.

48. If only he hadn't looked so damn happy about it as if Ahab was about to throw that harpoon like a stick for him to fetch. Untold plot line??

49. There is this whole sub genre of Moby Dick balancing the Pequod, a concept that certainly works, but by now it has to have that little extra something to seem truly special.

50. We have a less erroneous whale, folks! It may be a stock image, but Ishmael gave this one thumbs up, and so how could I possibly do differently? Nicely done!

51. First, I get strong The Old Man and the Sea impressions. Second, what kind of whale do you intend to kill with that thing, my dude? Points for canonical end game beard though.

52. I assume this is meant as a traditional Polynesian art style nod in honor of our dear Queequeg. The sports wear lining texture in the title letters confuses me though.

53. There certainly are plenty of canon here, but also, this is some odd mayhem and where are you aiming, Captain? Yay, ivory leg again!

54. Basic, works perfectly fine.

55. This is a really odd scene choice to pick for a cover, but I love this edition and its illustrations to bits. In fact, I'm planning on posting a review of it soon.

56. I haven't peeked into Melville's mind, but I'm pretty sure the Pequod looked quite different. The story is unmistakable though.

57. Nothing wrong with it, I guess, but way too messy for me to be comfortable with.

58. Not much to say here, but a perfectly nice-looking cover for any book.

59. Gets the job done, but not that inspiring.

60. Despite seemingly little effort behind it, this design based on a 19th century (erroneous) whale drawing could have gone straight up to A. You see, in the original image the (erroneous) whale has his penis (erroneous?) in full view, but on this cover it has been erased. How could I not have given a Moby-Dick book cover depicting dozens of (erroneous) whale dicks A? Alas.

61. Good, professional-looking cover, but judging by the illustration only, I would have guessed this was a children's book about the adventures of a jolly porpoise named Toni.

62. No spoilers to see here or anything. Is that a gold prosthetics??

63. This looks so much like a academic book on psychology. Not too far off, I suppose, but I wouldn't be able to figure out which famous story it is.

64. The Temple toggle harpoon was invented in 1848. Do with this information what you will.

65. Hey! That other cover from before! Have to say that the color alterations and helm sihouette wasn't an improvement.

66. A bit extreme for me.

67. I call this excessive simplicity. If you need a copy of Moby-Dick, you will recognize it at once, but it might not attract new readers merely in itself.

68. Just because it's a children's book doesn't mean the vibe has to be off, but I think it is in this case. Recently posted an example of this illustrator's adorable Ishmael here.

69. Where's the title? Confusing for a cover, but I would love this for a poster of mug! Also, the biggest words are Ahab, Queequeg, and Pequod, which I find mildly insulting towards a certain someone. What was he called again?

70. Cool whale picture which I really like, but the accuracy for Moby-Dick isn't really there.

71. It's blue.

72. I understand the idea and the illustration is awesome, but for me, the vibe is strangely all off and I get almost a comedic feel. Again, that's just me.

73. I often feel like an Ahab apologist and can often be somewhat harsh on the whale, but holy shit! A sort of red herring situation meant to make the reader think Ahab will be the winner?

74. It looks full of action and Scrooge's Ahab cosplay look is really neat, but I have... concerns.

75. I don't remember the scene playing out like this and Ahab is clearly not having it.

YOU HAD ONE JOB

76. The exact face I made the first time I saw this kind of cover.

77. After all the people I've heard at the museum mistaking the sperm whale skeleton for an orca, I'm honestly surprised these fails aren't more common. The snowy setting is a nice touch.

78. Hast seen the white beluga?!

79. First shark Moby-Dick I ever saw and during my first week on Tumblr even. The nostalgia is real, shipmates.

80. Cool scene. Where is it from?

81. Come on! This is a fucking Wordsworth's edition!

82. My sentiments exactly.

83. No, it isn't.

84. At first I seriously thought this was some interesting modern sci-fi/fantasy take on Moby-Dick. Nope.

85. At least the person who did this one bothered to give it a traditional nautical flair.

86. The ocean is canon.

87. *screaming shark mode*

SHOULD NEVER HAVE SURFACED

88. Someone's dad is balancing on top of a fire breathing eel whilst ravens are flying around and a poor guy has dark thoughts in the bottom right corner and... I dunno, man. "Whaling voyage turns fatal obsession" apparently. Moby-Dick the Prequel?

89. Whoa, dude!! I know you're angry, but holy shit!

90. "Captain Ahab? He went that way. Me? Just your average cliché 18th century pirate. If you don't mind me asking, sir, what sort of creature are you?"

91. By "annotated" they mean the truth about Wild Bill Hickok's one time side gig as a whaler. There's a fan fiction idea for ya.

92. What in the everloving AI fuck is happening here?

93. Friends, your guesses are as good as mine.

94. In the early 2020s, the ghost of Melville Herman set out to find the ghost of Moby Dick.

95. I guess we never learned what Ahab's dad died from back in the 18th century. Runs in the family and all that.

96. ?????????

97. If you download a public domain work to sell on Amazon for a possible extra buck, taking one minute to check the basic plot before slapping a stock image on it for a cover will be an actual long term investment.

98. "Lol! U overbite!"

99. Well, he is clearly a zombie whale, so maybe this is the sequel then?

100. And thus endeth MOBY D CK.

#moby dick #herman melville #literature #classic literature #ishmael #captain ahab #queequeg #moby dick spoilers #whale weekly #book tier list #tier list #moby dick tier list #moby dick projects #for fun #ranking #i'm dead

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