#Leather Self-Tie Belt

[addisonroad]

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[peachsayshi]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ domestic diaries

minors / ageless / blank blogs dni

ೃ⁀➷ notes: I saw this gif (top right image) & wrote a post about nanami getting turned on seeing his wife in an itty bitty tank, and I cannot get this out of my head. I need this man to **** ** until I'm ******* and ******. this is very self indulgent. forgive me lskjfd

ೃ⁀➷ tags: smut; masturbation; oral (f receiving); nipple play; p in v; rough sex; reader wears glasses

feb 3 - 8:31 pm

"look at how wet you are-" nanami exhales, a strand of gold kissing his forehead. the muscles of his strong stomach flexing when he unfastens the last button of his shirt. he pulls the fabric over his broad shoulders, taking in your hungry eyes roaming all over his body. rough hands instantly trail to the belt cinched around his waist. you whimper when he loosens the buckle, your fingers circle over your clit just a little faster as you watch him yank the leather band out from between the loops.

"n' you're hard..." you softly pant, licking your lips which only continues to exacerbate your husband’s madness to have you.

he palms over the prominent tent that's formed against his slacks, his length stiff from the sight of coming home to you earlier. you were innocently standing in the kitchen, wearing your black thigh high socks and a pair of shorts along with an itty bitty tank top that did nothing to cover you. midriff out, nipples prominent. your hair a mess, and your glasses resting comfortably on the bridge of your nose.

it was in that moment when the realization struck nanami. when he pondered when was the last time he taken you to bed. both of your schedules have been busy. neither of you have been in the mood for making love, too worn out from the stresses of every day life.

so, his reaction towards you shouldn't have been that much of a surprise. he just wished that he noted the dry spill that's hit your relationship a little bit earlier.

"hi, baby", you sweetly greeted with a smile, as he stood there dumfounded with admiration. "you're home late, I was worried you might miss dinner-"

nanami loosened his tie, swallowing the hard lump that formed in his throat as his skin scorched with heat. he can feel it prick the tips of his ears, singe the the highest parts of his prominent cheek bones, and burn it's way down his neck. he stalked towards you before you allowed yourself to get distracted, and circled his arms around your waist to pull you in for a kiss.

you were taken aback by the urgency, but you soon melted in his arms and found yourselves in the sanctuary of your bedroom.

nanami smiles - an angelic grin, full of reverie. you have to press your lips together to stop yourself from pathetically moaning at the gesture.

your husband doesn't make it easier by treating his exceptionally attractive self with such nonchalance. so completely clueless by the power he has over you.

he boldly stares at you, eyes falling to the peaks of your breasts, the tips furiously prominent against your tank top and begging for attention. he followed the path down the lower half your naked body, to the triangle between your legs where you were fingering yourself in anticipation. half your legs were still concealed by your thigh high socks, your glasses slowly falling down your nose.

he drops his shirt to the ground, bringing those fingers to push back that infuriating rogue strand of hair that carelessly fell. he cups your knees, his thumbs stroking your socks lovingly as he nestles himself between your legs. his jaw twitches when you spread your lips for him, your arousal strings of sweet sugar. nanami leans forward to peck you tenderly at the source of your desire, and the sound that travels out of your throat is so desperate he nearly cums on the spot.

"shit-" you curse, your hands moving to rest on your lower belly so nanami can touch you as he pleases.

he uses to fingers to spread the petals once again, before placing his tongue flat to broadly stroke up your slit. his eyes flutter close and the drawl of his hum is deep, sending a shiver up your belly. you bring one hand to the locks of his hair, massaging his scalp lightly as you keep the strands from falling over.

"haven't tasted you in a while, my love," nanami sighs. his hot, heavy breath fanning your cunt.

he dives in with no mercy, making your hips buck into his face while he fucks you with his mouth. he pays extra attention to your clit, sucking on the bud and flicking his tongue back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth...your fingers dig into his scalp, your upper body nearly off the mattress as you hold him close. when nanami slides two fingers in to stretch you out, your eyes simply vanish to the back of your head. you're so soaked by the time you orgasm, tremors shaking your clenched thighs that nearly squeezed your husband's head.

you taste yourself on your tongue when he kisses you. it's sloppy, wet. completely primal. nanami only stops to remove his slacks, rbefore eadjusting your position when he climbs on the bed.

"take your glasses off," he commands, and you oblige as you place them by your side.

he flips you over, lifting your hips and creating a lovely slope on your spine. his hands graze over the socks pinching the meat of your thighs, and he widens your stance before aligning the heavy tip of his cock to your entrance.

your words are reduced to vowels, and when your husband gradually pushes himself against your folds, you release a long cry as you grip onto the sheets for support.

"oh fuck,-" nanami purrs, before pulling back and rutting deep into you. "uh-you feel s'good, s'warm..."

"kento-" your whine out his name pornographically, which makes your husband thrust into you even harder, "kento, more...please, please, please-ah~"

your tank top rides up as your body rubs against the mattress, your sensitive nipples brushing over your cool bed sheets. he's usually so gentle when fucking you, calculative even - but not tonight. tonight, his movements are unrelenting. whenever that mushroom head hits your sweet spot it has you seeing a cluster of white stars in your eyes. the sound of skin slapping skin echoes all around you, with nanami's grunts following in harmony. he's rough when he holds your hips because he's unable to hold onto any self control, because you're sucking him in, and milking his cock.

you anticipate the soreness to come.

when you orgasm a second time, tears prick your eyes from relief - it's been so long since you've had your husband inside you that you forgot how pliable you become in the process. he's so close now too, his flow staggering as his hipsstutter, until he finally releases his full load inside you.

it takes you both a few minutes to gather yourself. you can feel your husband grow soft inside you. you turn around to face him when you finally detach. sitting upright on your knees as you circle your arms around your neck, and bring your face in front of his.

you moan into a kiss, his own hands cupping your breasts chastely, his thumbs swiping over your pebbled nipples.

he rubs his nose over yours, his lips finding your cheeks as he kisses you. "you okay, my love?" he asks, always the gentleman for checking in. "m'sorry if I was rough, I..." he sighs, stealing another kiss from your lips before whispering, "I didn't realize how long it's been..."

you sniffle, your body coming down from the rushed high. "m'okay, kento..." you dreamily reassure, your lips seeking his own for another kiss, "that felt so good..."

"yeah?" he smiles before nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth and tracing that dangerous mouth down the curve of your neck. "felt good for me too, baby..."

you're like sand between his fingers, slipping through the cracks of lust and love. nanami leaves a trail of kisses down your collar bone, moving further until his lips circle over the tip of your breast.

you hiss when he sucks on it, using his hand to cup the weight. the sensation of his thumb makes you pulse between your legs, and you gaze down to watch him slowly pull away to release the bud. his eyes stay fixated on your chest, a small string of saliva connecting from your nipple to his bottom lip. he uses his thumb to wipe it away, stroking the hardened peak.

"want to keep going?" he speaks in a hushed tone, lifting his head up and resting his chin against your chest to gauge your mood.

"yeah," you sigh, wanting nothing more to ride along this intimate dance until your bodies can no longer keep up. "yeah, let's keep going..."

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Copy that

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 3

Prompts: Lingerie & Sneaking Around

Words: 1,273

Rated: E

Tags: Office AU; Janitor Eddie; Junior Boss Steve; Secret Relationship; Semi-public sex; Steve in lingerie; Groping; Manhandling; Dirty talk; Dry humping; Inappropriate treatment of office equipment

Notes: Set in the same universe as this one

Eddie can tell what kind of day it'll be the second he walks into the office. Chrissy looks up from the files she's organizing on the reception desk and smiles ruefully.

“Hey, Eddie,” she calls. “Good thing you're here. The copy machine on the second floor is broken.”

“Jesus,” Eddie groans as he hands over her usual styrofoam cup of coffee. “It isn’t even nine yet and there’s another copier literally one floor above that. Did that not occur to those corporate dumbfucks?” 

She giggles and draws a breath to reply, but is interrupted by the phone on her desk ringing. 

“I bet that's Steve again,” she sighs.

Eddie’s stomach does a weird little flip. 

“Harrington Junior? I thought he was in New York this week.” 

She shrugs. “His conference got canceled. Listen, can you go check on this? I don't know why he needs those copies so urgently, but this is the fourth time he's called about it.”

As he steps into the elevator, Eddie wonders why he keeps putting up with this shit. He isn't being paid enough to deal with entitled tie-wearers who think the entire universe revolves around them. 

The second floor is still mostly empty, only a few miserable employees settling into their cubicles. At the sound of Eddie’s boots thudding closer, Steve steps out of the copying room, frowning and flushed pink with annoyance. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Eddie says. “I’m here now, aint’ I? No need to get your panties in a twist.” 

“Finally,” he snaps. “Do you have any idea for how long I’ve-”

Something twitches across Steve’s face, something that looks suspiciously like a smirk, but it’s gone as quick as it came as he grabs Eddie by the elbow to steer him into the copying room. 

While Steve clicks the door shut behind them, Eddie walks over to the copier. He peeps into the gap between the machine and the wall, sighs, and bends down to retrieve the pulled plug. 

“Seriously?” he asks. “Again? You need to start coming up with new excuses, because this is getting-” 

And that's as far as he gets before two large hands shove him against the machine and a warm, slick tongue pushes past his lips. Eddie hums a half-hearted protest and tries to pull out of the kiss, but Steve growls and grabs his face in both hands to hold him in place. The copier rattles as he wedges a leg between Eddie’s thighs. 

“Woah, princess,” Eddie gasps as those lips leave his mouth, blazing a hot trail down his jaw and throat. A look towards the door reveals three large cartons of paper stacked in front of it, but he doubts they'll withstand one or two hearty pushes. “Hold on. There's people out there, anyone could-”

“Better make it quick then,” Steve says, breath leaving warm puffs against the hollow of his throat. The seams of Eddie’s overalls groan dangerously as he yanks them off his shoulders. “If you'd have been here sooner, we wouldn't be in this situation. Now c’mon, or are you scared?” 

Eddie growls. Steve’s self-satisfied grin only serves to fuel his rage as he spins them both around and bends him over the copier. 

“I'll show you scared, you little brat,” he says, nudging Steve's legs apart and pinning his arms behind his back with one hand, the other opening his expensive leather belt with practiced motions. He bends and bites down at the base of that long neck, just long enough to feel Steve’s answering moan rattle in his own chest, then straightens back up and yanks Steve’s dress pants down in one violent motion. 

And then he freezes. 

Lace.

Steve Harrington's glorious ass is covered in shiny, delicate lace. It stretches over it in a pattern of pretty flowers and little hearts, golden skin and dark moles shining through the see-through fabric. 

It is red. 

Jesus Christ on a fucking motorbike. 

“What's the matter?” Steve asks. He's craning his neck to take in Eddie’s reaction, face unbearably smug and flushed as red as the lace of his panties. “You planning on doing something or are you just gonna stand there and catch flies?” 

“You might wanna get going soon,” Steve singsongs. “There’s people out there, y’know?” 

He rolls his hips, grinding his ass against the rapidly growing bulge in Eddie’s overalls. His pants slip further down as he does. There's garters. Red, lacy garters hugging thick, muscled thighs and Eddie is not going to survive, is he?

“Oh my God, you're such a slut,” Eddie mutters, and surges in. Steve moans again as he fists a hand into the hair at the base of his neck, pushing him face-first onto the copier. Eddie has a fleeting thought that it's simultaneously lucky and a pity that the thing isn't plugged in because man, those copies would be something to look at. 

“God, baby,” he growls, yanking Steve’s head up by the hair, forcing his back into an obscene arch. “You're gonna kill me one day, you know that?” 

“Hope not,” Steve gasps, fingers digging into the edge of the machine for dear life. Glass creaks and metal rattles as Eddie rocks his hips, grinding their bodies together. “I really like your cock.” 

Eddie laughs, the words igniting a firework of want low in his abdomen. Steve shivers under him as he blankets him with his weight, pressing him down against the hard surface of the machine so that he can whisper right into his ear. 

“Oh, yeah? That what you want, princess? Well, be my guest. I’m gonna stuff you so full, you’ll feel it all day. You gonna walk out of this room and back to your stupid meetings, and all you’ll be able to think of is how good it felt, getting fucked by me. How all you wanna do is go back and take my cock again, you greedy little-” 

“Steve? You in there? What is wrong with the door?” 

Steve is out from under him and on his way to the door before Eddie manages to fully process his shock. 

“Hold on a sec, Tommy! I think it’s stuck.” 

Steve smiles while he pulls up his pants and fixes his hair, like he has all the time in the world. Eddie is so busy bemoaning the loss of the panties and garters that it takes him a second to remember his own disheveled state. He has hardly shrugged back into his overall sleeves and pulled the zipper up when Steve shoves the boxes out of the way and Hagan from Sales stomps into the room, a stack of papers in hand and a scowl on his face. 

“Oh, sorry,” Steve says, full of genuine regret. “The copier’s broken. Eddie and I were just looking into it.” 

Steve shrugs exasperatedly. “I know, right? Looks like someone needs a refresher course on how to treat company property.” 

“Man, does anything in this company work?” Hagan grumbles, stalking past Eddie to flip open the lid of the machine. “Who the fuck did this? There’s cracks all over the place!”

Hagan groans, slamming the lid shut and turning back towards the door. “Whatever, I’m using the one upstairs. Oh, by the way, your dad wants you in his office. Something about New York?” 

“On it,” Steve calls after him. “Thanks for letting me know.” 

As he brushes past Eddie and out of the door, he shoots him a coy smile. “I guess we'll need to conclude this meeting later. Come to my office around lunch?” 

Eddie really, really isn't getting paid enough for this shit. Luckily, the job comes with other benefits. 

More smutty September

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Frank! fantasy flavor!

rambles:

i really wanted to blend that monk-class inspiration w/ Frank's personal vibe... i like to think that i Succeeded!

i turned his tie into a sort of brooch since, yk. bowties aren't all that Fantastical. they miss the style. also i think they'd be more comfortable with something smaller since he's very active and needs a wide range of maneuverability

i bet Eddie or someone wheedled them into adding the leather shoulder pauldrons - leather to keep it a bit more flexy, and also. it just looks Cool!

figuring out what would replace his vest was tough. i didn't want them to be entirely unprotected, but i couldn't give him straight armor. though i will admit! a sort of tight-fitting crop top was Considered! but i landed on a gambeson vest as the best fit - comfortable, flexible, a Vest, while providing some level of protection! also, gambesons are quilted, which fits Frank's diamond-checkered vest!

ive already mentioned that one of my favorite outfit things is Flowy Pants Tucked Into Boots, so... that choice wasn't very character driven. except the boots are a tall ankle wrap - for that extra stability and strength! their shoes are pretty flexible and are only a few steps away from being slippers.

and the half-skirt - open skirt? - thing (still don't know what its called) is purely some self indulgence. i think Frank looks great in skirts!! also imagining him Throwing Down w/ the added flair of the skirt... damn. it'd probably help confuse enemies too - what're they gonna do next? who knows! the skirt is in the way and adding extra Movement!

i like to think that his knife is either in a sheath attached to the back of the belt, or they have it on their thigh (under the skirt) like Wally's bag. he probably never uses it... punching is the way to go for Frank methinks. it's probably reserved for cutting ropes and fruit

speaking of punching.... wrist wraps! inspired by boxing gauze! pads his knuckles, keeps his wrist compressed, its the best choice for physical combat. though the wrapped knuckles probably always have blood showing through anyway... or no yeah it's mostly other people's blood...

as for scars - Frank probably has quite the collection! i imagine that they've been picking fights since a young age, and in such a dangerous world he probably got hit a Lot until they learned how to hit back. and hit back Well. still, i wanted to give him a cool face scar with a very lame backstory - a book with a crisp, sharp spine corner fell off a high shelf and bonked them in the face at juuuust the right angle <3 he probably stays very fucking quiet about it which makes everyone think there's some intense traumatic backstory behind it. there isn't. Frank's just embarrassed.

closing note: i imagine that Frank has zero magic. literally none. cannot wield it for shit cannot utilize it. he's just like Howdy fr

[octuscle]

Now open under new management

Edward Parker III let the car window down a crack. Peter, his driver, had switched off the air conditioning to save fuel. The fuel gauge was basically at 0.00. Here in the middle of nowhere, they had no mobile network. The last Google message was that a petrol station would appear at some point. And Peter claimed that it should open in five minutes. Open from 10:40 am. Strange opening times. Edward's stomach grumbled. Something had gone wrong at breakfast. The car urgently needed a petrol pump. And he needed a toilet just as badly. Then, like an oasis in the desert, a building appeared in the middle of endless cornfields and pastures full of stupidly staring cattle. It was 10:39:50 a.m. when Peter steered the car onto the dusty filling station with the last drop of gas. At 10:40 sharp, Edward yanked open the car door and jumped out. And the moment his spotlessly clean Oxfords touched the ground, the neon sign flashed. Open!

Edward ran towards the small store where the neon sign was shining. He was far too focused on not wetting his pants that he didn't notice the leather soles of his shoes turning into a sturdy rubber tread. As he pushed down on the door handle, he got something like an electric shock. He didn't care. The store was empty. His palm became calloused. His fingernails black. There was a door at the back, labeled "Private". Hopefully there was a toilet. Thank God the door was open. And thank God there was a toilet. In the middle of a room full of tools, car tires and packages. It stank miserably. But Edward didn't care at all. He had already undone his belt while running, he opened his trousers, pulled them down and dropped onto the dirty toilet seat at the very last moment. And he had to shit like never before in his life. The stench was overwhelming. But the relief was immense. Edward finally relaxed again. But only for a second. Then his eyes fell on the dirty rubber boots that went well above his knees. Inside, pulled down as far as they would go, were a pair of completely filthy jeans. And what was even more irritating: his right hand was the hand of a construction worker, the cuff of his shirt had disappeared. And the fabric of the right sleeve of his jacket was getting coarser and dirtier from bottom to top and the color was slowly changing from navy blue to a kind of beige. What the hell was going on here? Even greater than the panic was the disgust at the stench. His left hand, still freshly manicured, reached for the toilet flush. And he was hit again. He watched in panic as his fingernails became dirty and the calluses moved down from his fingertips. Edward's gaze fell between his legs. That wasn't his circumcised shaved penis. That was a cheesy, hairy cock. Much bigger than it normally was. Edward had to get out of here! He hastily wiped his ass. A tight, hairy ass, sitting there on a familiar toilet seat. A man needs a good place to shit. Hehehe, this was a good shitter. Stumbling, Edward stood up, his head spinning. He looked in the mirror. That was still his head. But the rest? His crisp white collar and tie knot vanished into thin air, revealing a hairy, muscular chest. The last remnants of the finest navy blue wool on his left upper arm disappeared and the transformation of his jacket into a dirty, much-worn, rough work jacket was complete. I look like a fucking redneck, were his last thoughts before he grew a badly trimmed goatie, his $100 haircut turned into a self-cut buzzcut that he hid under a bandana he hadn't washed in a long time.

Loud honking from outside. "Damn, I've been shitting! Can't you wait?" yelled Edward. He wiped his hands on the dirty cloth stuck in his pants. Hand washing was for city wimps. He stepped into the yard of his gas station.

Hehehe, he knew the filthy and dented truck standing there at the pump. "Pete's services of all kinds" was written on the door. And Pete was hanging in the cab with a visible bulge. "Eddy, don't you always promise the best service at your station," Pete said with a grin. Ed spit out the chewing tobacco and licked his lips. "Go ahead, gas station attendant. The belt buckle won't open by itself!"

Full service and guaranteed customer satisfaction. That's what Ed's gas station was famous for.

Inspirations found @pitstainsandpas and @fanofshoes44

[chaos-and-sparkles]

Presenting:

Prowler Pavitr <3<3

Here's Pavitr's design in my Prowler Pavitr au akjdskjdskjkskdsk! It's my au where Pavitr is a fallen hero who used to be Spider-Man and becomes the Prowler, fueled by rage against a world and a system that forced him to pretend at perfection and then only hurt him and the people he loves.

I love him so much,, I have so much stuff in progress about him rn (working on the fics too). Gonna have chaipunk front and center, and like four separate plot arcs, I'm so insane about this au actually -

Anyway here's some infodump about his design inspirations and symbolism I put in it, I loveeeee talking abt him:

Hair -

Okay so this is after some time, like a couple months since Pav became the Prowler, and he's grown his hair out a bit now. It's kind of a mix of rejection of the "masculine" standard of short cropped hair by flaunting his longer curls that he's always been proud of and even had to grow to love He also dyes his hair purple! Bc he didn't wanna cut his hair but he wanted to do something to set himself apart from his old identity and also he's literally an impulsive 17-18 year old and wanted to do something that felt like owning his own self and asserting autonomy over his body etc etc

Something Borrowed -

The tie that he's using to tie back his hair is his original blue headband!! It doesn't go with his outfit at all but It's the original blue headband that Maya Aunty got for him all those years ago that he's been wearing forever and it snapped and broke in the battle that preceded what happened to her, and he still keeps it and ties his hair back with it instead The nosering (nath) used to be Gayatri's, they used to try out her jewelry on him and he loved that one so much she gifted it to him, and since he's basically left his old life and gone no contact with her it's all he has left of Gaya too

Main Outfit -

His jacket is loosely based on Krrish's leather jacket from the Bollywood movie series that's about a superhero named Krrish. I just think it has the dramatique and vibe Pav would like He binds his chest bc he still hadn't had top surgery but he's way more open about it, with the binding showing through the neck of the jacket now where he would have never dared to hint at it before,,, another thing about how he doesn't care about people's opinions and perceptions and standards anymore, he wants to say fuck you as much to everything in the system as he can and also piss people off while he's at it and a trans antihero/villain is a surefire way to do that. His dhoti is basically a dhoti pant, modified a bit bc i liked it

He has payals on his feet that make a faint chhan chhan noise when he approaches which has creepiness and cuteness potential imo I basically turned the prowler logo into his dhoti belt buckle askjdsjk

It's also slightly modified to mimic a trishul or even a diya shape, up for interpretation either way, bc trishuls are a symbol of Shiva, god of destruction, and diyas are a symbol of light in the darkness and the need to find it Also the chain around the dhoti at his hips is both a reference to decorative dhoti chain accessories and the lil things on it are his modified grenades that he uses for arson, bc Prowler Pav is big on arson and murder ajajsjsj

Prowler Claws -

His bangles/claws were hands down my favourite part to design!!

So his claws are of course his original spiderman bangles modified into the prowler claws But i based them on three weapons, each of which means something interesting for Pavitr

The first is bagh nakh. Literally translates to "tiger claws", famously used in a legend of Shivaji Maharaj They usually curl into the palm instead of going between the fingers like they do for Pav, but they're basically metal claws wound secretly around your hand for a sneak attack It's associated with bravery and righteous rage bc of Shivaji Maharaj but it's also really associated with stealth and an attack from unexpected quarters, being stabbed from a side no one saw coming. Which. Pavitr. The perfect hero, becoming the Prowler. Come on

Second is the trishul, aka trident That's the reason there are three prongs to his claw Trishul is the symbol of the god Shiva, and as i mentioned he's the god of destruction, as in he's part of the main triumvirate of gods who focus on creation preservation and destruction He also is really really associated with rage, especially destructive rage; he has a whole dance called the tandava for his rage which is a Huge Deal I can't stress this enough And because Prowler Pav is a being fuelled by rage against a system that has hurt so many including him that he wants to destroy and see burned, it is perfect for him The trishul is also seen as a symbol of goddess Kali, who's similar in the destruction goddess aspect and also is literally an embodiment of rage and violence that cannot be controlled which is more the theme I started out with, but whichever you notice first, it works either way. There's a whole myth in fact where Shiva had to lie beneath her feet to stop her destructive rampage before it ended the world.

And lastly, the urumi, aka the whip sword from Kerala Basically each of Prowler Pav's claws extend into whip swords when he does the swing/slash/whip motion This is really interesting at least to me, bc it means 2 things: 1) Pav still remembers and is actively using some of his skillset from swinging around as Spiderman. He does use the urumis to curl around distant objects and swing too, and they are very lethal weapons when used right, and that use requires a lot of skill, huge parts of which he built up by his experience 2) This is a weapon which requires an unimaginable amount of control, precision and strength And Pav is doing all that So all of his actions, every movement, is very deliberate and thought out. He's not doing any of this - turning away from heroism, becoming the Prowler, using these lethal weapons - on a whim. They are all very very deliberate.

Also one more thing - the blades of his claws are all retractable ofc But they are not protected or anything They slice up his palms and the in-betweens of his fingers whenever he uses them,, especially when he uses them as urumis And it would be so easy to fix the design or make gloves or smth so they don't do that But he doesn't ever do it He could make it so his hands don't bleed on using his claws But he doesn't want to

He is an angsty boyo...

Mask -

The eyes are ofc like the prowler mask design except I made them more curved and curled at the end bc that's a kind of shape often seen in traditional art of the headdress of Kali, goddess of uncontrollable violence as I've said before Then the part between them is meant to be based off a third eye, which is something both Shiva and Kali have. It opens at the height of their rage, it's meant to symbolise destructive fury for them both Although it's also used in an all seeing context otherwise but a lot of whitewashed bullshit is also there that dilutes sources to find connotations His theyyam-based tusks from his Spider-Man mask, I wanted to keep

The shape below the eyes is based off the noses in masks in various regional Indian tribal and traditional masks,,, a lot of them tend to have a very distinctive curly nose shape that I wanted to keep, a lot of these masks also depict rage or are intimidating and are very emotive And then ofc you have the bottom of the mask, I made the curved-ish cut based on the peacock-feather-y shape i was using but it's also based on the general shape of Kali's lips in traditional art where she has her tongue out, it's a big symbol of her rage and rampage I tried to put the tongue too but it looked awkward and honestly i thought it would be cooler to jsut leave the bottom half of the mask open and you can see Pav's mouth and his expressions through it a bit instead, in the spirit of that And also it's based a little bit off Krrish's mask, you can never escape the Krrish design Also there's the lil teeth. Those are often used in art for demons and animals,, and Prowler Pav is very cat coded in his behaviour in general tbh. He's like if an orange cat's fur got burned to black.

Anyway, so yeah, that's him!

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

drabble of sub!robert fischer? i love ur work btw!!

thank u so much for ur sweet praise!! u guys are srsly so kind🫶🥹

“Robby,” You purred, setting down your weighted fountain pen on your sandalwood executive desk. “What’s got you sneaking ‘round these parts?”

Robert rolled his eyes, “This venture is purely professional, I assure you.”

“You’re no fun, honey. Now, c’mere, tell me what you’re comin’ to beg for.” You pouted, crossing your legs and beckoning him closer with your index finger. 

His jaw clenched, obviously affected by your belittling words— but he was also not in any position to snap at you. “I’ve come here to introduce a business proposition to you. As you know, I’ve taken over Fischer Morrow after my father passed, and I’ve decided to—“

“Split up the company,” you grinned, getting up from your leather chair and rounding the table to meet him. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Robby.”

Robert’s gaze followed your fingers, which danced across his chest for a moment, before tugging roughly at his lapels and flattening the slightly wrinkled fabric. “My point here,” he sighed, “is that I don’t want Proclus Global buying anything remotely Fischer Morrow. My only option — and my very last resort, is you.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. “You are coming to beg.” You then ran a hand through his hair, offhandedly mumbling to him that it looked better that way, “Robby, honey, you know just as well as I, what you gotta do to make me say yes.”

Robert’s gaze tore away from yours, expression contorting incredulously. “I’m not going to— that was when we were dating,” he hissed, but didn’t flinch away when your hands snaked across his waist, sneaking your fingers into the loops of his belt. 

“Well, then, I guess Saito’ll be visiting you tomorrow morning to get ownership affairs all in order,” you informed sarcastically, pulling your hands off of him. 

Robert bit his lip, breathy and exasperated with your demands, and you could only smile: the way he looked now, puffy lipped, cheeks pink, hair disheveled and unable to respond reminded you of the fun you two got up to back when you were younger, before you’d started your business, before Robert played a major hand in his fathers. 

“Fine,” he mumbled quietly, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment; how stark of a contrast it was to the man he was at work, to how he was with you. 

“What’s that?” You teased, pulling his chest flush against yours with his silk tie. 

“You heard me the first time,” he growled, losing his patience. 

You raised a brow, “Looks like someone’s gotten naughty when Mistress wasn’t around to play.”

Robert gulped, your self-imposed title being used making his muscle memory activate. He’d hadn’t heard you refer to yourself that way in years, and it suddenly made him feel stuffy, like his tie was too tight and his pants were too small. 

Your hand then thrust forward to cup his crotch, palming his cock through the cashmere. When he didn’t speak, you frowned. “C’mon, honey. Beg for it. You don’t expect me to do everything for you, do you?”

He groaned - a small, barely audible one, but a groan nonetheless, before complying with your demands. “Please- take me, Mistress. Take me and -- buy out Fischer Morrow.”

You grinned. “There we go. I knew you still had those pretty manners in you.” With that, you dragged him to your office chair, pushing him onto it gently and spreading his legs. 

You undid his belt buckle and fly, relishing the way his breath hitched when your cold hands touched him— he flinched, but his cock sprung to life in his boxers, and grew painfully solid when you slipped his underwear down and pulled it out.

You hiked your pencil skirt up to your soft thighs, sliding down your panties and promptly balling them up, shoving them in his mouth and pressing a teasing kiss to his temple. You then backed up on Robert’s cock, still facing forward toward your desk, and situated his aching tip with your soaking slit, before sliding down. 

A hiss left you as you did so, but Robert merely huffed through the fabric of your lace panties, clearly fighting back those pathetic moans you always used to hear come out of him without a second thought.

“Now, honey,” you panted, blinking rapidly as you felt your walls adjust around his pulsing length, “be good for Mistress, and don’t move. I’ve still got some work to finish up, but I know your needy cock needs me now.”

Then, you heard really Robert groan, this time in dismay rather than reluctant pleasure, unable to protest against you nor the fabric muffling him. God, he’d forgotten how much you enjoyed torturing him… and he could only mentally ready himself for the long, long hours ahead. 

“Be grateful,” you chastised, leaning over slightly to grab a large stack of papers you needed to sign, making Robert whimper at the minuscule movement, just barely stimulating his cock, “‘cause Mistress could be so much meaner.”

[klm-zoflorr]

Ummm hello god hey helloooooo

Back on my bullshit as in i started thinking about Stranger Danger Jon. Yeah, the Web guy. More particularly design notes.

So you know how Annabelle (the podcast's main Web Person basically. The one this Jon replaces in the story) wears victorian clothing? Like, looks kind of anachronistic. Stands out.

Well I thought why couldn't Jon get kind of the same treatment. So now he dresses like a cowboy.

Very baggy dark blue jeans, dirty and damaged in places. I think the pockets are darker? Maybe made out of leather?

A thick engraved leather belt with a round, golden buckle.

Cowboy boots! (Brown)

A taupe waistcoat, western bartender style. Pretty tight fitting. Black buttons. Pocket square. Maybe there's lighter brown decorative lines on some of them.

Underneath that, just a white shirt. Sometimes he only wears the shirt. Most of the time he wears the sleeves long, but when he doesn't he has clips to keep them folded (fancy)

He keeps the shirt open, with the collar unfolded and straight up. Yeah, like a rockstar. You can see a bit of his chest hair, which is short but dark. It's hot.

Depending, he either wears a short tie over the waistcoat (purple perhaps? A light purple? Or red?) a bowtie (black and red) or those cowboys red hankerchiefs

I think he has some cedarwood perfume. Something strong and woody. Maybe he smells like tobacco too, but not sure. It's not really a thing of spider people themselves to smoke, is it? I still need to think on that

He wears no jewelry at all. Okay, maybe a golden chain (ankle chain? That'd be interesting) but thats it

And of course... The cowboy hat.

Web! Jon is pernicious and intelligent, but isn't afraid to come off as a little more self-assured at times.

Anyways, yup. These were just a random assortment of thoughts i had while designing him. Thought id share because the mental image i'm giving myself of him is hot as fuck and I am in love.

Goodbye for now

[melis-writes]

Victoria touching herself for Michael to watch. 😳

😳 😳 How many of us girlies can sit still while doing that in front of Michael Corleone…

‘God…’ With your head slightly tilted back and lost within self indulgence, your eyes remain half open while soft, hot breaths escaping your lips with each moan.

Michael’s plush, full lips wrap around the end his half-finished cigarette as he keeps his eyes scouring over your body in both entertainment and amusement; arousal pulsating over his body.

Kneeling on the center of the bed with your legs spread as wide as you can keep them, your fingers toy over your dewy clit—spreading your wetness over the folds of your pussy again and again.

Michael’s lustful gaze over you only intensifies your arousal pumping through you, rushing warmth to your skin as your breathing begins to hitch on and off.

Michael’s half shrugged off overcoat loosely hands over his shoulders and arms as he sits upon the armchair in the corner of the bedroom, facing you.

Michael’s tie is almost completely loosened; five of the buttons on his dress shirt undone to reveal a peek of his chest hair, his leather belt on the floor with one hand resting over his thigh while he smokes with the other in what one may describe as almost elegant yet cautious.

Not once does Michael take his eyes off of you or your actions, and while he watches you tease and please yourself, you feel his eyes directly locked with yours but over every inch of your body at the same time.

Michael notices the way your tongue wets your lips, how you squeeze your eyes shut when you edge off your growing orgasm and how the muscles in your body strain towards the rush of pleasure constantly hitting you.

“Perfect,” he whispers out, watching you slick two fingers inside of your pussy in and out in perfect rhythm; the sloppy sounds of your arousal’s lubrication being nothing but music to his ears.

“M-Michael,” you breathe, bucking your hips out of reaction as you feel more of your wetness begin to trickle inbetween your thighs.

“Good girl,” Michael comments back—speaking in a soft, ushered tone as he watches your thighs begin to quiver again. “Hold yourself back for me, again.”

You give a small, shaky nod as you continue to rub over your throbbing clit with your thumb; your fingers practically sliding over your pussy from how wet you’ve grown.

“You…” You moan softly, squeezing your eyes shut for a brief second, “love watching me do this to myself, d-don’t you?”

Michael’s gaze hardens over you at your question as he gives you a slow, stern nod—blowing smoke out towards you. “Are you talking back to me?”

“N-no, Don Corleone,” you whine, slowly beginning to add a third finger in.

Michael lowers his cigarette, putting it out upon the crystal ashtray next to him; noticing how your actions begin to slow down from an inevitable orgasm attempting to push through.

“Don’t,” Michael speaks out, gesturing for you to come to him.

“I was—” You pant quietly, moving your hands away.

“You’re not going to let yourself cum,” Michael states, interrupting you. “Come here.”

Blushing furiously, you slowly get off the bed and begin to get down on your knees; careful with your thighs shaking again before you look up at Michael obediently.

“You’re doing so well,” Michael purrs, reaching towards the fly of his dress trousers. “Come here. You won’t come without me this time.”

[addisonroad]

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[vera-king-hrfl]

I'll just leave this here. The whole chapter will be posted tomorrow.

Tav gets a lesson on tiefling anatomy, and Rolan gets off. This is just a snippet.

Please forgive me if my tiefling biology isn't completely canon. I was rolling with it.

He sighs sharply, a shaky sound, and then swallows, wide yellow eyes still searching your face. “Really? I have that effect on you? But… well… I suppose I had better give you another demonstration then, hadn’t I?” His expression firms, and he sets his own cup down decisively, sweeping you into his arms and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is searing, powerful, and you moan as his tongue dances against yours, pushing your hands up into his hair as his beautiful hands clutch at you, roving your body, kneading and caressing you. He’s also trimmed his claws, you notice dimly, feeling his fingertips dig into your back. There isn’t anything he can do about his teeth though, and those little points prick your lips and tongue delightfully as you pull the leather tie from his carefully coiffed hair and let it fall around your faces. The hardness is back between his legs, nudging you through the layers of robes, and there’s a particular rumbling in his chest. You are lost in the sound and smell and taste of him when your fingers brush against the base of his horns and his whimper into your mouth sounds almost like pain. Simultaneously, his tail jerks, hitting one of the cups on the table and sending it crashing into the wall. You gasp and draw back, eyes wide and fearful that you’ve done something inappropriate.

 He takes a deep breath with a beatific smile and sighs before opening his eyes. Seeing your expression, he instantly looks contrite. “I’m sorry, did I frighten you? It has a mind of its own sometimes.”

 You blink at him, then the realization dawns. He means his tail. “Oh, no, I thought I… I didn’t know if it was alright to touch your horns. I’ve been trying not to. Did that hurt you?”

 He chuckles softly, “no, quite the opposite. I’m just very sensitive there. It felt good, believe me. Your hands are wonderful.” He looks at you thoughtfully for a moment. “I should have asked earlier… have you ever been with a tiefling before? Like this, I mean. Intimately.”

 You shake your head, ”no, never. But I’ll do anything you like and avoid whatever bothers you. You may just have to show me. I know… some tieflings don’t like their horns touched. Is that just like, by strangers, or in public? Or are you a special case? I know a certain lady who likes to smack people with her tail, but she almost murdered the last person who grabbed it. I’m actually very curious, but I didn’t want to make you self-conscious.”

 He grins, flashing the points of his teeth. “Hmmm very well. I will give you a brief anatomy lesson then. But I think I’ll have to take off some of these clothes. Perhaps you should join me. So I don’t feel self-conscious, of course.” He steps back and reaches for the tie on the side of his robe, and you blush, but do the same with a little smile. He’d already seen almost all of you anyway that morning on the beach. You slip out of your robe and decide to rid yourself of the under tunic as well, and soon you’re standing before him in only the breast binding and knee length linen knickers that you were wearing when he found you on the beach. He pulls off his own robe and unlaces his shirt collar before dragging it over his head, his hands guiding the fabric over his horns. Both garments join yours in a growing pile on the floor. He kicks off his sandals and, in only his breeches and belt now, goes to sit on the blankets, patting the spot beside him. “Let the lesson begin.”

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Gkika Gets Got

Fandom: Girl Genius Summary:

"A girl likes to pay her debts, ya?" "So, what did you do for the Jӓger lady?" "Nothing much. She's makin' more of it than she should."

Gkika gets badly wounded on a raid. To her surprise, she is rescued by a mysterious man who seems neither human nor Jӓger; a man who is determined that she live to fight. Gkika would prefer to crawl under a rock and die of embarrassment.

AO3 Link

Damn.

Damn.

Don’t get confident. Her father had drilled that into her head over and over and over. Don’t. Get. Confident. Always assume your enemy is better than you, and fight accordingly.

But nooo, Gkika was the bigshot raider now, Gkika rode with the Jӓgers, Gkika had made it through two raids without a scratch, Gkika was invincible.

Und now, hyu got three whole arrows in hyu, cauz hyu so good at dis.

The one in her side had hit her ribs. She could have pushed through that pain, but the two in her thigh… There was a reason she was crawling her way through the stagnant water at the bottom of the ditch—which would mean infection even if she could get out of here.

There were no tryouts for riding with the Jӓgers, no tests, no athletic requirements. You either lived long enough and fought well enough to be offered the draught, or you didn’t. If she died here, would they even find her body? Would they all say she’d died because she wasn’t good enough, or would they think she panicked and ran? Like a coward.

If she could just get out of the damn ditch.

As if in immediate response to the thought, something grabbed her by the straps of her leather cuirass and hauled her up. Gkika thrashed wildly, her jaw clenched tight—absolutely no screaming, not for anyone’s amusement. The arrow in her side caught on the dirt wall of the ditch, and the pain—

Gkika woke slowly. Her wounds still throbbed a dull, burning ache. She felt pressure on her stomach and something hooked onto her belt. But she wasn’t dead or caged or being torn to pieces by angry villagers, and that was a good start.

Her face was pressed against something soft. She cracked open her eyes and saw a wall of rough green fabric. Where was she?

“Ivan vill be okay if ve tie him to de horse,” said a voice. “Alrik is still breathink but he von’t vake up. His head iz all fonny lookink.”

“Make a sling and take him home. At this point, the Heterodyne is the only one who can put him to rights, if anyone can.”

The voice wasn’t familiar, but the way it rumbled right through her made Gkika realize she was slung over a shoulder like a sack of flour, held in place by a hand on her belt. Gkika shut her eyes again, and felt humiliation rise in her face like a sunrise.

“Found a couple of de town boys, too, dead.”

Oh no. She knew that voice.

“Did you take care of it?

“Ya, ve found some canvas und wrapped dem up. Got deir hats, too.”

That was Goomblast, the biggest mouth in the world literally and figuritively! Who everyone knew had been personally told by Zog that he’d be made a general as soon as he learned how to keep a secret for two seconds in a row! By sundown, every person in camp would know about this—Mechanicsburg would know about this—the Polar Lords would know. Subterranean mole people who had never seen the sun would know that Gkika had run headfirst into a hail of arrows like the idiot she was.   

“Good. Go back to camp, get them buried, get Alrik to the Heterodyne. Don’t wait up—I need to patch this one up, first.”

“Heh. No kiddink.”

Gkika barely heard the sound of the Jӓgers leaving over the flood of her own mortification.

After a few moments, the voice said

“They’re gone now. You can stop pretending.”

Gkika let out a long, miserable groan.

“Just leaf me to die,” she pleaded.

“No, I don’t think I’m going to do that.”

Her “rescuer” did not put Gkika down, and Gkika couldn’t walk anyway so knew there was no point in getting mad about it. So while he carried her through the forest—with no sign of obvious effort—she hung there and let herself wallow in self pity.

An eternity later, he said, “I’m going to put you down now.”

“Good. Leaf me here.”

His response was to sigh and—with infuriating care—lay her down at the mouth of a cave. Gkika refused to look at him.

“I’m going to check if it’s clear. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Oh, hyu so funny.”

He disappeared inside. After a moment, there was a cacophany of growling and hissing, and Gkika considered using that as cover to go find a rock to crawl under. But no, she wouldn’t get very far, and it would be all the more humiliating to have him drag her back.

The man emerged, cleaning blood off of his sword. Gkika glanced at him to see that his face was familiar enough that she knew she’d seen it around camp, but not so familiar she had a name or background to attach to it.

Without a word, he sheathed his sword and scooped her up again.

This time she examined him more closely. He didn’t look that much older than she was, or less human. The strength said Jӓger, the lack of fangs said new Jӓger, but the way he’d given orders spoke of an authority that no freshmade Jӓger would be granted.

He gently lay Gkika down on a bedroll already spread out, and began to putter around the gave, seemingly oblivious to Gkika’s wary watchfulness as he moved spider-wolf corpses out of the way and lit a fire.

Then he rolled up his sleeves, and Gkika saw a spiderweb of scars across his skin, more than any human could survive in the space of a single military career.

“Vut is hyu?” she demanded.

“Name’s Agnar,” he said. “Though I might change it soon. It’s getting a little out-dated.”

Gkikg was about to point out that that was not what she’d asked, when Agnar began to set out bandages, ointments, and unpleasantly sharp looking little tools.

“I told you I wasn’t leaving you to die,” Agnar said, though Gkika hadn’t spoken. 

He helped Gkika to lie back, and propped up her side so he could get at the arrow. Then he handed her a thick piece of wood, which Gkika set between her teeth. Fancy Heterodyne medical mumbo jumbo or no, this was going to hurt.

Gkika threw her arm over her eyes. 

“Hy vvff hy vff fff.”

Agnar removed the stick.

“Hy vish Hy vuz dead,” Gkika said.

Agnar replaced the stick.

“You’re going to wish it even more in a second.”

He was very right.

Gkika nearly cracked the stick in half, and did not judge herself for the tears of pain that streamed down her face as she fought to keep still. She passed out twice: once when he’d pulled the first of the arrows from her leg, the second time when it was over, out of sheer relief.  

When she woke, she was bandaged, the pain was a thobbing ache, and Agnar was cleaning his hands with something sharp and metallic smelling. For a few minutes, she watched him pack away the supplies in silence.

“Vy?” she asked at last.

“Hmm?” he said, not looking up as he began to slice a hunk of spider-wolf meat off the bone.

“Vy stay und risk hyuself to help me?”

“Ain’t much of a risk.” 

“If de pipple from dot town find us, dey vill kill uz both.”

“If they find us, they will certainly try,” Agnar agreed. He speared the meat on a spit and set it over the fire.

“Hy izn’t even a Jäger! Hy is just vun of de idiots dot rides vit dem. Vy vaste hyu time?”

“Not a waste.”

“Hyu iz avoiding de qvestion.”

“Heh. Spose I am.”

Gkika pushed herself up on her elbows and glared at him. He at last looked up at her and tucked a smile away in the corner of his mouth; held up his hands in surrender.

“You think you’re the first person to ride with the Jӓgers to almost get themselves killed doing somethin’ stupid? Most people who go riding with the Jӓgers die doing somethin’ stupid.” He paused, thoughtfully. “Most Jӓgers, too, come to that.”

“So?”

Agnar’s expression grew more serious.

“You didn’t get killed doing somethin’ stupid. You survived doing somethin’ stupid. Hit with three arrows, fell into a ditch, stuck in there for nearly five hours, and you were still movin’ around when I found you. I could have put you on a horse, same as Ivan, but that’d run the risk of more damage. As it is, if you’re careful about keeping the wounds clean and you go see a doctor when we get home, you’ll be fighting fit in time for the next raid.

“I said it wasn’t a waste, and I meant it. A person tough enough to survive taking three arrows makes for a good fighter. But a person who can keep going after that, who can push through the pain, who can flat out refuse to die? That is the kind of person who survives the Jägerdraught.”

Gkika stared at him. Agnar did not respond, but waited for her reaction.

“Hy neffer said Hy vanted to be a Jäger.”

“But you do.”

Gkika looked away.

“There’s two types of people who ride with the Jägers: the ones who do it for fun, and the ones who don’t. The Heterodyne doesn’t look for Jägers in the ones who are here for the fun, and the only way he knows which is which is if someone tells him.”

“Hy iz not ready yet,” Gkika muttered. “Hy’z not good enough.”

“It ain’t about when you think you’re good enough. It’s about when the Heterodyne thinks you’re good enough. Let me tell you: it takes a hell of a lot less time to learn to be a good fighter than it does to learn to ignore the part of you that worries you’re not good enough.”

“Hy vill be!” Gkika growled.

“Sure. But you’ll be ready before you feel ready. S’how it goes for pretty much everybody. It’s natural,” he assured her, pulling a pipe out of his pocket. “When we get back to camp, go to one of the generals and tell them you want to be considered.”

She snorted.

“Zog vould neffer allow it. He hates me.”

“You annoy him,” Agnar corrected. “Which, to be fair, you do on purpose.”

Gkika scowled.

“Iz not my fault he can’t take a joke,” she muttered.

“Fortunately for you, Zog does not get to decide who becomes a Jäger. The Heterodyne does. And if Zog puts in a bad word for you with the Heterodyne—not that I think he will, but if he does—I’ll put in a good one.”

Gkika snorted.

“Und de Heterodyne vill listen to you,” she said, disdainfully.

Agnar reached into the fire with his bare hands and drew out a red-hot coal. He lit the pipe, tossed the coal into the fire, dusted off his steaming fingers, and leaned back against the cave wall. 

“Yup.”

It struck Gkika all at once, and she opened her mouth. Then she shut it.

“If Hy say vut Hy tink hyu is,” she said, carefully, “und Hy iz right, iz dot a ‘hyu heff to kill me’ type ting?”

There was a gleam in Agnar’s eyes, but it seemed like a good one.

“Tough and smart. That’s good.”

Gkika decided to take that as a yes.

She ate the spiderwolf meat, which was gamey and strange, but filling, and fell asleep. When she woke, night had fallen and the fire was banked to coals. Agnar was staring into the dull red glow and smoking his pipe, the two lights casting strange shadows on his face. He looked no older than before, but the proportions of his face were…off, somehow.

“Vut if dey make fun ov me?” she asked.

“For what? Taking an arrow to the ribs and living to tell about it?”

“For needink to be rescued.”

“Oh, they’ll give you grief for it, no ifs about it. If you laugh with them, or make the jokes yourself, it’ll die down faster. Fightin’ ‘em on it just encourages them. But laughing at you ain’t the same as losing respect for you, which is what you’re actually worried about.”

Gkika scowled.

“Und hyu know me so vell, do hyu?”

“I’ve known people like you.”

“Haff dis conversation a lot, den?”

“Only when I think it’ll work,” he said. “And only when I think it’s worth it.”  

Agnar put out his pipe and lay down beside the fire, tipping his hat over his eyes.

“Rest up. We leave at dawn.”

“Vill Hy be able to valk by den?”

“A little bit.”

“You iz going to carry me again, izn’t hyu.”

“Only to my horse. You’ll ride, I’ll walk.”

“Sidesaddle,” Gkika said, suddenly. “Like a fancy lady.”  

Agnar didn’t tip his cap up, but she saw him smile. They fell silent, the night hush falling in around them.

“Tenk hyu,” Gkika said, suddenly. “For puttink me back togedder. Und de odder ting. Hy owe hyu—”

Agnar waved a lazy hand.

“Relax, kid. It was a little patch up and a pep talk. Nothin’ to hold over yourself.”

Gkika decided to say nothing, for now, but in her heart knew she owed this man more than she could ever repay in a single lifetime.

But Hy vill have plenty of lifetimes, she thought, determination settling in her bones. Because Hy vill be a Jӓger.

[scarletemeraldpurple]

Agatha Harkness Wines and Dines (and keeps) a Butch Reader

Reader is a genderqueer butch who gets called a few variations on “boy”, wears a sports bra and is said to soak through their underwear (genitals left ambiguous). Reader is also called a puppy and a slut.

There’s some wine tasting but no intoxication.

Reader goes down on Agatha and grinds against her thigh. There’s a lot of talk of going mindless and fuzzy.

You’d had a quiet crush on your neighbor in Westview for a while. Something about her was just…different than everyone else in the neighborhood. She had such a bright smile and her personality was so magnetic. She was so confident in herself. She didn’t walk, she strutted.

And she strutted right to you in the wine section of the grocery store.

“Hiya hun! Stocking up for the weekend too?”

She chuckled as you visibly jumped, you hadn’t noticed her sneak up on you.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya toots.”

“Hi Agnes. Uh, yeah y-you could say that.”

“Are you a red wine gal too hun?” She said, gesturing to the section you both were in front of.

“W-well actually I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking for. Kind of new to wine.”

“Oh how exciting. Well I can be your amateur sommelier! Guide you through this new world.” Your neighbor put a friendly arm around your shoulders, and quietly took note of how you had not made eye contact for this entire exchange. Oh this was going to be fun for her.

“Are you busy this evening hun?”

“N-no. No I’m free.”

“Then why don’t you come over to mine for dinner, complete with a cheese and wine course and we can see what you like. Sound okay to you?”

You looked at her. A bit stunned by the contact and the invitation. “That sounds fun. Thank you Agnes.”

“Great! It’s a date! Come to mine at 6.” She started to walk away.

“Wait!”

She turned and arched an eyebrow. God the simplest things made you flustered.

“What should I wear?”

She smiled. “Y’know what? Let’s get a little dolled up. Wear something that makes you feel sexy, I’ll let you decide if you want to keep it classy or not.” She said with a wink and walked off for real.

You decided to skip buying anything and headed straight home. You had 2 hours to get ready for Agatha’s. One hour to freak out, one hour to actually get ready.

Oh my god she said “date” did she mean date date? Or just “oh we’ve set a date?” She said to dress sexy, was she flirting? She’s kind of like that with everyone. You supposed if she flirted with everyone she was probably flirting with you. You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or worse.

You decided to shower to calm your nerves. You did your full self care routine. You had a towel wrapped around you as you pondered your options on what to wear.

You had your classiest option: full suit. That would probably be a bit much. You could take it down a notch and lose the jacket and maybe the tie. Yeah that could be good.

Alternatively, you had some leather pants and a bulldog harness. Which did make you feel very sexy, probably not quite the occasion for them.

You put on your dark suit pants and tucked in your shirt. You put your black leather belt on. Some small part of you wanted to make this sexier. You could undo a few buttons. Or…

You picked up your bulldog harness and put it over your crisp white button down. It was a good look. You felt like a high fashion butch. You wondered if Anges was being sarcastic when she told you “you decide how classy you want to be.” But something about it felt really right for tonight. If you were right, and Anges was flirting with you, this would certainly get her attention.

You decided to bring a black chore jacket as well. You looked put together, but not too stuffy and formal. The jacket would allow the harness to be a bit of a reveal

You showed up at 5:59 and knocked at the door.

“Hiya, my don’t you look dashing.”

There was no hiding your grin when she called you dashing.

“Seriously between you and the oven it’s sweltering in here.”

That one got you to blush a little.

“Thank you Agnes. Y-you look really nice tonight too.”

She gave a little twirl in her cocktail dress. It was a dark purple that you thought really suited her. The bottom was flowy. She smiled at how you were admiring her. She’d have you on your knees in no time.

“Come in dear. Dinner we’ll be a few minutes but I’ve got some appetizers ready and our first glass of wine to go with it.”

She led you inside and you took in her home for a second. You had no idea what you expected but it wasn’t quite this. It was like the archetypal suburban housewife threw up everywhere. Something was off about it.

“Sit dear I’ll pour the wine and grab our appetizers.” She gestured to a very plush couch.

“Oh I can help if you want—“

“Sit. I insist my dear.” Her tone was still gentle, but distinctively authoritative.

You nodded nervously and took a seat.

You heard her shuffle around for a bit before she returned with a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a corkscrew. She expertly removed the cork.

“We’re gonna let this sit and breathe for a little bit while I got add the last touches to the charcuterie board.”

“Are you sure I can’t do anything for you?” You pleaded.

She squeezed your shoulder. “You’re very sweet hun. But trust me I got this. Relax. In fact, let me help you with your jacket.”

Oh shit. You thought. Here’s the big reveal.

“Oh um, listen-“ you started as Agatha stood you up and took off the chore jacket.

Something changed in her eyes when she saw what was underneath. “You sure rose to the occasion, huh sweetie?”

“I—so you like it?”

“Oh I love it sweetheart.” She traced the leather with her fingertips and eyed the D-ring in the middle of your chest. “I’m very impressed. I knew you would look handsome no matter what but this, this is a very welcome surprise my dear.”

You gulped as nimble fingers continued to trace up and down the straps. Part of you wished she would slip a couple of those long, lovely fingers into the d-ring and just tug you around.

She lightly took it in her fingers. She smirked as you inhaled. Then let go.

“We have much to discuss tonight don’t we dear?”

You managed to look her in the eye. “It appears we do.” You said softly

“Be good and sit back down for me dear.”

You obeyed.

“Very good. You just stay. There’s nothing for you to worry about when you’re with me.”

She went back into the kitchen and after a few minutes came out with a spread of cheese crackers and fruit.

“Now this red is a little on the bitter side. But it’ll balance out the fat of the cheese for tonight. I’m going to reduce our wine tasting to just two tonight. This is the first one, and I have some wine to go with our dessert.”

“You’re the expert, I trust you.” You told her.

“Good answer.” She smiled at you.

She sat next to you. “Here let’s start with a fig.” You reached for one but she stopped you.

“Let me get that.” She said.

“I can feed myself.” You replied.

“Oh I’m well aware you can. But I want to feed you. Now be good and open up.”

Her hand was so close to your mouth as you but the piece of fig she fed you. Her gaze was very focused on you. Despite your button up, and the extra security of your harness, you felt naked.

“Now was that so bad?” She teased. Eyes still fixated on you.

“I guess not.” You said, just above a whisper.

“Haven’t even had a sip of wine and look how red you are.”

You looked away from her, only to be pulled back by a crooked finger.

“Always so shy. I make you nervous don’t I sweetheart?”

You nodded your head and gulped.

“Poor thing. I really don’t bite you know, not without permission at least. Well there was that one time I bit a kid. But anyway.”

“Wait what?”

“Story for another time my dear.” She said as she brought a soft cheese spread over a cracker to your lips.

It was creamy and mild, and the cracker had a nuttiness to it. It was quite tasty.

“Okay I will let you take a drink by yourself. I’d hate to see it spill all over your nice white shirt.”

“Thank you.”

You each took a sip. It was more bitter than you usually would have liked, but it was a nice change after the fat of the cheese.

“Good isn’t it? I know it was bold to give you something so bitter to start, but I figured it would get balanced out by our starter.”

“Yeah. You’re exactly right. This is pretty nice actually.”

She let you feed yourself the rest of the night. You two sipped your drink and feasted on cheese and fruit.

You felt oddly at ease with her. Sipping your wine and swapping thoughts about the spread.

“Okay our main course is actually less fancy than our appetizer, we’re having fish and chips. And we’re pairing it with a more acidic wine. Come with me to the table darling.” She stood up and held out her hand.

You reached for it cautiously and she gave you a comforting squeeze. Her hand was softer than you expected. Her fingers were long and skinny, but they felt nice intertwined with yours.

“You’re cute.” She hummed, mostly to herself.

“Sit.” She instructed gently. You didn’t put up a fight this time.

“Good boy.”

She looked at you to see your reaction. Your eyes were wide, and she could tell you wanted more.

“See you don’t need to fight me. You don’t need to worry. You just need to be good and do what I say.”

“Agnes-“

She seemed caught off guard when you said her name. “Oh right” she muttered to herself.

“Agnes I think we should talk. I-I haven’t done anything like this in awhile.”

She brought a finger to your lips, very effectively cutting you off from whatever ramble you were about to go on.

“So let me ease you back in. You can be good for me. Just be good for me for a bit. Leave all the thinking to me.”

You looked like a puppy to her. Desperate for praise and affection and assurance. Desperate for someone’s hand to guide you.

“We’ll talk more in a minute. Let me get dinner out.”

She served up a portion for both of you and poured the wine. You were surprised to find that this one was white

“White wine has its place though it’s usually not my preference. The acidity of this one is a nice contrast to fat of the fish and the batter. I wanted to make this a well rounded experience for you since you don’t really know what you like yet.”

“Thank you Agnes.”

“You’re very welcome dear. Now dig in.”

You ate more slowly than you usually would. Your nerves had resurfaced.

She reached across the table to squeeze your free hand. “I’m really happy you’re here you know.”

You smiled at her. “I’m happy I’m here too.”

“I’m so glad. Can I tell you a secret?” Unbeknownst to you your host had several secrets to share with you tonight.

“What’s up?”

“I’ve had a thing for you since you moved into the neighborhood.”

You nearly did a spit take.

“I had a feeling you felt the same way. You’re so cute when you get all shy. Just makes me want to tease you more.”

She wanted this too. You couldn’t believe it. Feeling bold, you tried something.

Looping a finger through the d-ring of your harness, you asked: “What else does it make you want to do?”

“Oh fuck baby. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I’m sure you won’t give me anything I can’t handle.”

Agnes groaned. “Come with me, pet.”

Something deep in you tingled when she called you that. “Yes ma’am”. You got up and took her hand. She led you into her basement.

It was eerily dark and impossibly big.

“So listen sweetie. I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

“What haven’t you been honest about?”

“Well my real name isn’t Agnes. You don’t need to worry about my real name. I’m Mistress, as far as you’re concerned.”

“Shit did I have your name wrong this whole time? And you never corrected me?”

Agatha chuckled. “No love, everyone in this town calls me Agnes. It’s a long story dear.”

“You have a lot of long stories.” You replied.

“Maybe if you’re really lucky you’ll hear some of them.”

“I hope so.”

Agatha gave you a soft look. Then stepped forward and kissed you. The kiss was gentler than you expected, at least to start. Soon she was biting at your lip and slipping her tongue into your mouth. You leaned into it, leaned into her dominance. God you needed this. You whined when she pulled away.

“Oh baby, are you sure you can handle me? I’ve barely touched you and listen to you. Whining like a little puppy, huh pet?”

“Please Mistress.” You asked with a dazed look in your eye.

“Do you even know what you’re asking for pet?”

“I-I need you Mistress.”

Agatha’s eyes lit up. “Need me huh? Need my control?”

“Please, please Mistress.” You begged.

“Fuck baby. I’m gonna fuck every single thought out of that head of yours.” She grabbed you by the harness and pulled you in roughly for another kiss. This time your hands went to her hair, wanting her as close to you as possible.

She pulled away. “Did I say you could touch me pet?”

You immediately brought your hands to your sides. “I’m sorry Mistress. I didn’t realize that was a rule.”

Agatha was very please with your answer. “You are forgiven. All pets need training, but they need to know the rules in order to do that don’t they?”

“Do you have any more rules Mistress?”

“The main two are that you will call me Mistress and you will wait for permission to touch me. Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

“Yes Mistress. I used that system in my previous uhh—arrangements.”

“Glad to hear it. If for some reason you are unable to speak, squeeze my arm once for green, twice for yellow, and three times for red. Can you show me how you would communicate red if you were gagged?”

You gave her three squeezes on her arm.

“Good job. That’s it for me then. Anything you want me to know, sweet thing?”

“I-uh-I like being called good boy, p-prettyboy too.”

“Oh I bet you do. You are such a prettyboy after all, and you deserve to be reminded of that.”

You blushed.

“You want to know what I think sweet boy?”

“What is it Mistress?”

“I think you’ve needed this for a while Someone to take control. Someone to be firm with you, maybe even a little rough?”

You blushed and averted your eyes.

“Answer me, pet.” She said, tilting your face back up.

“Yes Mistress.”

“I can do that baby. In fact I’d love to do that for you.” She said, grabbing the front of your harness, pulling you in for another kiss.

You melted into her. You almost went to out your arms around her before clasping them behind your back.

Agatha broke apart from you. “Oh you are such a good boy. You look so sweet like this. Oh I can’t wait to see you trussed up in purple ropes. I bet you’d like that. But for now, you may touch me baby. Let your hands explore my body sweet boy.”

She kissed you again and your hands went to her waist, sliding up and down her sides. Then one hand went to her back and the other went to her long black hair. You couldn’t believe how good she felt against you. How good she felt in your hands. How good her tongue felt in your mouth.

“You’re just a cute little puppy, huh baby?” She whispered against you.

Your breath hitched. “Y-yes Mistress.”

“Wanna be my puppy? Wanna be Mistress’s good puppy?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Such a good puppy. Such a good boy.”

“Wanna be good for you Mistress.”

“Oh I know angel. And you’re being very good. It’s gotten me so wet seeing you like this, wanna feel baby?”

“Yes please Mistress.”

She led your hand between her legs and sure enough she was soaked through her underwear.

“Wanna help me take care of that?”

“Yes Mistress, how do you want me?”

“Kneel.” She instructed, tugging you down by the ring of your harness.

You looked up at her from the floor.

“Look at those puppy eyes. Okay baby, come get your treat.” She slid off her underwear

She guided your head up her skirt and you breathed her in. You placed a couple kisses to her thighs before licking a long stripe on her cunt.

She let out a groan. “Keep going puppy.”

You licked her eagerly, exploring all of her cunt. Sucking on her clit. Tongue-fucking her entrance. You moaned into her and she gasped at the vibration.

She hiked up her skirt and grabbed your hair. “Stick your tongue out love, just let me use you.”

Your mind went blank as she rutted against your mouth.

“Fuck, you look like a fucking slut you know that? My fucking slut. Good puppy, letting me use your mouth. Fuck you make me feel powerful.”

She made direct eye contact with you as she fell over the edge. She pulled you back up and kissed you roughly. She moaned as she tasted herself on your mouth.

“Good little butch fucktoy for me.” She walked you backwards until you were sitting on a desk.

“I want to see more of you, can I see more of you baby?”

“Underwear and sports bra stay on for tonight.” You said firmly.

“Okay baby, thank you for telling me.”

She helped you out of your harness. “Can I unbutton this baby?”

“Yes please Mistress.”

“Such a sweet boy. I got you baby.” She skillfully and quickly got you out of your button down.

“Can I put my harness back on?”

“Oh yes you can baby. Fuck that looks good on you.”

She undid your belt and shimmied you out of your pants. There you were, leather across your chest, sitting just above your dark green sports bra, wearing boxer briefs in a matching shade.

“You’re so handsome baby. How can I make you feel good?”

“I-I love grinding against someone.”

“Oh I bet you do puppy. Wanna hump Mistress’s thigh? Gonna get my thigh all messy, even through your underwear?”

You tried to hide your face in her neck but you were swiftly pulled back by the hair, causing you to moan.

“Answer me puppy. Use your words to get what you want. And don’t think I didn’t catch that little moan.” Agatha said, tugging you a little more.

“Please let me grind on you Mistress. I’ll be good I promise.”

“Oh I know honey. C’mon, I have a special room to show you.”

She looped her fingers through your d-ring and led you like that to a bedroom. Well it was more than a bedroom. It was a full on sex room. There was a St. Andrew’s Cross, a mini fridge, a suspension hook on the ceiling, and the bed had 4 posts with spots to tie someone spread eagle.

“Oh I’m sure you’ll get acquainted with lots of the equipment in this room in time. Tonight though, just you and me on the bed.”

She got in first and propped up her back with some pillows. She stuck her legs out and patted her thighs.

You walked over cautiously. You stood on your knees, hovering over her thigh.

Agatha grabbed your hips and pulled you down. “C’mon baby, don’t be shy. Be a good puppy and hump my leg.”

You started moving your hips in small circles.

“There you go, good puppy. Mistress wants you to feel good. You don’t need to worry about anything besides feeling good. No thinking baby, just pleasure.”

Encouraged by her words, you quickened your movements. You rubbed back and forth and and back and forth and back and forth.

“There you go puppy, I can feel you seeping through. Such a good slutty butch. You like how I’m treating you?”

You whined and humped faster.

“Words honey.”

“Please Mistress. Please talk me through this Mistress. Please your voice—”

“It would be my pleasure to talk you through humping my leg. Silly little puppy needs instructions huh? Can’t think when you’ve got something to grind against? Does that brain melt when you get wet like this?”

“Yes Mistress,” your inhibitions were greatly lowered, “Please Mistress. Wanna be brainless. Wanna be your slut. Wanna give into you.”

“Oh sweet puppy, you already have given into me. You’re here in My basement, making a great big wet spot on My thigh. Because you’re My slutty little puppy, isn’t that right? Tell me you’re mine puppy.” She grabbed your hair again, making you face her.

You moaned. “Yours Mistress, your puppy, your slut, your butch—” you babbled out.

“That’s right baby. All mine. And I’m yours. I’m your Mistress and you don’t need to worry about anything when you’re with Mistress, isn’t that right puppy?”

“No Mistress. Don’t need to worry.” You felt your climax start to build.

“Good puppy. I can feel you getting more and more desperate. You can do it baby, cum for your Mistress.”

You buried your head in her neck as you came with a string of “Thank you thank you thank you…” leaving your lips.

Agatha laid back and you collapsed on top of her.

“I’m so glad I have you now.” She said, scratching your head.

“I’m glad I have you.” You mumbled against her.

You dozed off, against her. Totally unaware of what was going on in Agatha’s head. The collar she was sketching out in her head. How you were going to be Hers, forever. She waited so long for you, there was no way she was letting you go now.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Below you will find the character profile for my One Piece OC (one of them, anyway. I have at least five, but I'll be working the most closely with this one for now).

So, here we go. Only been working on this shit for like...three days. Okay, technically over ten years since I used to write her ages ago when I was on fanfiction.net, but I've redone a lot of things.

I'm already in the process of working on a novel-length Mihawk x AFAB!OC fanfic, so here's the overly extensive character sheet for my OC because I always put way too much effort into character development.

The character history practically devolves into a mini fanfic itself around the middle by total accident, but whatever.

The fanfic(s) will toe the line between Live Action and Manga canon. We'll just call it AU and leave it at that.

Karimi Lionne

Associated fanfics: Hearing Problems (coming soon to an Unknowable Horror near you) and Any Way The Wind Blows (eventually, bear with me)

Age: 24

Occupation: Pirate; Mercenary

Abilities:

Kiku Kiku no Mi: A Paramecia type devil fruit that grants the user the ability to hear...well, everything, all the time. Within a certain range she, can hear the thoughts of people around her. The range varies with her focus; standard, it's anyone within a range of about fifty feet in any direction. She can close that circle down to either listen to one person's thoughts, or expand it to search a city or town for a particular person. Activated (which she hasn't yet), it allows the user the ability to plant thoughts in others' heads, and potentially control their thoughts.

She considers the ability more of a curse than a blessing since she has never managed to hone it quite well enough to shut it off entirely, and can often be found sitting at a dock or on a beach with her feet in the salt water, just to get some peace and quiet in her own head.

Blades: Karimi carries a pair of daggers with ornately carved ivory handles, the head of a lioness carved into the top of each hilt, in sheaths at either side of her belt. They belonged to her grandmother, who raised her from age four to age fourteen, and also taught her most of what she knows in combat. She also keeps a handful of throwing knives in a holster belted to her right calf, a couple inches below her knee.

Her fighting style relies primarily on agility, evasion, and accuracy rather than raw strength due to her relatively small stature of 5'2".

Haki: Not a master by any means at all. Learned from Red-Haired Shanks during her brief stint working with his crew, used largely to assist in suppressing her devil fruit abilities and making them more manageable. Not really proficient enough to use it for any other application.

Music: Karimi was taught to play guitar, fiddle, and piano by her grandmother, but she hasn't touched an instrument since her grandmother died, so she doesn't know how much of the ability she has retained. Karimi also learned several sea shanties from her, and often hums or quietly sings them to herself while out to sea.

Appearance:

Faceclaim: Jane Fonda c. 1960s, facial structure, skin and hair edited via Faceapp

Long, dark green hair, in wild curls that she can't do much of anything with except tie back in a bun or stuff under a hat. Sharp emerald green eyes. Fair-skinned with a handful of freckles.

The Resting Bitch Face is strong with this one.

Slender, petite, 5'2" tall.

Tends toward wearing long-sleeved shirts/dresses to cover the scars on her arms. Almost always wears her grandmother's hat, an old and tattered brown leather tricorne with a patch on the front left brim and a few more in the back.

Personality:

Confident, toeing the line of outright arrogance at times. Humor that ranges from dryly sarcastic to quite silly, depending on who she's around. Guarded. Brooding. Cynical. Empathetic. Gentle. Uses sarcasm as a coping mechanism. Not easily offended. Prominent issues with self-harm and PTSD.

Backstory (prior to beginning of fic)

Karimi has next to no knowledge of her origins. She knows her mother died shortly after giving birth to her, that she was born on her father's ship, and that she got her hands on a devil fruit the crew had found and ate it when she was three or four years old, not knowing what it was. Shortly thereafter she was taken to live with her grandmother on a remote island village called Conch Cove, somewhere on the Grand Line.

Her grandmother, Helena Lionne, had been a pirate captain shortly before Gol D. Roger came around and into his earlyyears of piracy, but Karimi didn't know much about her history. Helena was a powerful haki user, and was able to use the power to dampen Karimi's devil fruit abilities, largely for the sake of the girl's own comfort and sanity. Helena trained her to fight in order to defend herself in the event that she ever left the island, as well as survivalist training. She wasn't shy about telling Karimi that the world could be a dangerous place, particularly for a woman on her own, amd wanted to ensure that her granddaughter had everything she needed to safely make her way in the world.

Karimi found out more about her grandmother a week after her fourteenth birthday.

She discovered that her grandmother had been captain of the Siren Pirates. She discovered her grandmother possessed the abilities of the Mizu Mizu no Mi (logia type, water). She discovered that her bounty was in the billions...and still very much active.

The Marine Admiral who showed up to the island, Admiral Jackson "Volcano" Vesper, brought a large crew with him, with no intention of taking Helena alive. His moniker stemmed not only from his explosive temper, but also from his own devil fruit abilities—the predecessor to Fire Fist Ace, he possessed the power of the Mera Mera no Mi (logia type, fire). He also possessed an intense desire for revenge on the woman that had killed his father.

He didn't bother revealing how he managed to track her down—he simply went in guns blazing. The battle between him and Helena, between his crew and what remained of hers, waged for nearly two entire days, leaving several Marines and villagers dead and the town in total ruin. Karimi stayed hidden the entire time as her grandmother had asked her to, but with Helena's haki focused on defending herself and her allies, Karimi could hear everything with her devil fruit abilities.

She could hear the moment when Admiral Vesper's first mate got the drop on her grandmother, pinned her to the ground with the butt of his rifle, which he had coated in a layer of sea stone, instantly sapping her strength and her devil fruit powers.

Karimi could hear Vesper's thoughts, his intentions to humiliate her, kill her, and return to Marineford with her head.

And Karimi emerged from hiding and managed to toss a throwing a knife into the back of his leg.

She was captured almost immediately. Her physical resemblance to her grandmother in the woman's younger years was noted immediately by Vesper, and he knew in that instant that he had won.

And Karimi knew it too, with the man's bowie knife to her throat.

He agreed to let Karimi go in exchange for Helena's life, and Helena gave in without a second thought when she saw the bowie knife start to cut into her granddaughters neck.

He took the remainder of Helena's old crew as prisoners—the only four other villagers on the island left alive, but not before slitting Helena's throat and sawing her head from her neck with his bowie knife, while Karimi was held captive and forced to watch.

Then he and his men left her there on the remote island, in a ruined village with nothing but the corpses of friends and neighbors and the woman who raised her to keep her company.

She doesn't remember much of the following two weeks. She knows she was able to make a spear out of a throwing knife and a shovel handle to catch fish for food in the shallows around the island. That she had a fresh source of water in the form of a pond. She knows she was nearly through building a raft out of the rubble that was left of the town when another marine ship arrived at the island, captained this time by Vice Admiral Garp the Fist. She was understandably beyond wary of Marines, and she fought tooth and nail, kicking and screaming, when they took her back to their ship.

They took her throwing knives and her grandmother's daggers, and she was forced to stay in the brig because she made very clear that she would gladly gut any marine who came near her. She was still treated with kindness and provided full meals given her situation, and as she bided her time and got her strength back she formed a plan of escape.

She was able to use her devil fruit powers effectively in her escape—by listening around and finding the easiest target. This came in the form of a fifteen year old cadet who would check on her and talk to her during his downtime. He thought she was pretty and couldn't believe she had managed to keep herself alive for two and a half weeks after what she had been through, admired her sheer strength of will. It was incredibly easy to sweet-talk him into getting her weapons back to her, playing on his sympathies by telling him that they were all she had left of her grandmother.

She hid them once she had them, and did a little more sweet-talking...until he agreed to steal the keys and get her out of the cell. Once she was out, she wasted no time in knocking him out, stealing his uniform, stuffing her hair under the hat, and discreetly stealing enough rations to last herself a week and slipping away on a dinghy.

She had no idea where she was or how she was going to get anywhere, but she wasn't exactly of sound mind after the trauma she had endured. Her only thoughts at the time were that she wanted to put as much distance between herself and the Marines as possible.

She was picked up by a merchant vessel after a few days, and they took pity on her story and allowed her to remain on board the ship, assisting in cooking and cleaning in exchange for room and board and safe passage to their next stop. They were bound for Loguetown in the East Blue, and that suited her just fine.

Loguetown was a large city right outside the only passage onto the Grand Line, and it gave her plenty of options for work. She worked odd jobs that provided her with room and board, saving up money over the course of the following two years.

She was working in a tavern and staying at the attached inn when the Red-Hair pirates made port in Loguetown, and she knew she had her ticket back onto the seas, with only one goal in mind—to find her father, and tell him what had become of her grandmother.

Her memories of him were too vague for her to give any decent description, but she wasn't telling anyone her reasons anyway. She waited for her shift to end before approaching Shanks himself and asking, confidently, to join his crew.

That got a tremendous laugh out of the crew at large, but only a little bit of a chuckle from Shanks himself.

"And why would a little slip of a thing like yourself want sail around with a bunch of old men?"

"That's not really important." She sat down at the neighboring table at this. "But what I can provide your crew is."

"And what might that be, love?"

"I've trained with daggers and throwing knives since I was four years old. I also possess the abilities of the Kiku Kiku no Mi."

Yasopp, sitting between Shanks and his first mate Benn Beckman with bis feet propped up on the table, snorted at that, grinning. "So what, it improved your hearing?"

Karimi leveled her eyes with his. "Immensely," she daid. She gave a small smile...and began narrating his thoughts out loud. "'The hell is this girl's deal? Does she have any idea who she's even talking to right now? She can't even be much older than my—Wait. What the hell? What the hell is she—'" His feet slipped off the table, his mouth falling open as he registered what was happening. "'Holy shit, is she in my head? Is—'"

"Okay, you made your point, cut it out!" he half-shouted, staring at her in alarm.

No one was laughing anymore—and she knew she had their full attention now.

"That," Shanks said lightly, the amusement gone from his eyes and replaced with caution—but also intrigue, "is a very dangerous ability for someone as young as yourself to possess."

"I've had it since I was four. I've learned to manage it."

That was, of course, only half true—she could deal with it, yes, but she couldn't fully control it.

After a long, silent moment, in which members of his crew exchanged glances and Shanks quietly studied her, he leaned back in his chair, nodding to himself.

"Let's give you a real test," he said, leaning his arm over the back of his chair. "See how well you can put your abilities to use." Karimi lifted her eyebrows, waiting. "I want you to sneak into the Marine base here in Loguetown. Find where they keep the treasure and money they've confiscated from pirates and thieves they've arrested...and walk out with as much as you can carry." He lifted his bottle of rum from the table. "Undetected."

"Have you lost your goddamned mind?" Shanks glanced across the table at Benn when he spoke up.

"That's been gone for years, but go on."

Benn gave a growl of annoyance at his captain. "She's a kid. You're talking about sending a kid into a damned Marine base to steal from them. That's a suicide mission."

"The girl wants a chance to prove herself," he said simply, shrugging a shoulder. He looked back at her. "That's my offer, love. We're setting out no later than noon tomorrow. You bring your haul to the ship, you can come with us."

Karimi nodded, and stood from her chair. "Then I will see you all no later than noon tomorrow."

A few hours later, when the tavern closed for the night and the crew returned to the ship, they were met with the sight of Karimi, wearing a Marine uniform and sitting on a sizable burlap sack right in the middle of the deck. She stood from it and kicked it over, spilling gold bricks, jewels, and piles of Berry notes and coins across the deck.

Sneaking into the base had honestly been a piece of cake—she found a half-drunk Marine a couple years older than her at another tavern, did a little sweet-talking and got him back to her inn room. Suggested some rather kinky activities that would involve him stripping down and being tied to the bed and he jumped on it. Once he was securely tied, she gathered her few belongings, put on his uniform, put a do-not-disturb sign on the door, and slipped out the window.

It had taken longer to find and get into the rooms where they kept any seized contraband, but it had been as simple as keeping her head down and listening. Hiding and ducking down empty halls when she heard anyone drawing too close. The entire ordeal had taken just under three hours.

After a long stretch of silence, it was Benn Beckman that voiced what everyone was thinking.

"Holy shit."

Shanks grinned over at him. "Suicide mission, aye?"

She was officially welcomed aboard the ship at this, as promised, but there was some deal of commotion when she told them her name.

Particularly her surname.

She learned very quickly that both Shanks and his first mate were familiar with her father—and that Benn utterly despised him. To the point that he, however briefly, threatened to throw Karimi off the ship himself against his captain's will if necessary. The brief altercation ended in Benn storming off to the gun deck on his own, leaving Karimi wondering if she had made the right choice of crew.

Shanks was far more personable.

He told her about her father—Lyon D. Rollo.

He described her father as having been like "the annoying little brother he never wanted." Told her about their time spent as deckhands aboard the Oro Jackson. About his devil fruit abilities that had caused absolutely nothing but trouble for years because they were incredibly difficult to master without massive repercussions: the Kaze Kaze no Mi (logia type: wind).

Told her how they met Benn not long after Roger's execution after setting out on their own—Benn and his younger sister, Sedna, who he had looked after on his own since he was around sixteen and she was six, when their parents had been killed by raiding pirates.

Who Karimi's father had apparently fallen inmediately head over heels for. Said he refused to leave town without her, and did exactly as he set out to. Benn had refused to leave her side, and came with them despite his hatred of pirates at the time.

It was a year later that Shanks and her father had gone their separate ways. It had always been the plan, as they were both too stubborn to accept being anything but captains. Once they gathered enough of their own crew members and got their own ships, they parted as friends. Benn stayed with Shanks, and Sedna remained with Lyon.

It wasn't long after that they recieved word that Sedna had been killed during a firefight with the Marines.

"He never mentioned a child," said Shanks, shaking his head and looking at Karimi like he was looking at a ghost as he leaned forward against the railing around the bow. "I imagine he couldn't have been much older than seventeen." He shook his head a little, still in disbelief. "I don't think I need devil fruit abilities to know what you're doing here."

Karimi nodded shortly. "Do you know where—?"

"No, unfortunately."

No one knew where Lyon was—it had been five years since Shanks actually last saw him, and he and his entire crew seemed to have just vanished into thin air around a year ago, despite still holding active bounties.

Karimi didn't tell him anything else, not why she was looking for him—only that she was, and that she had no intention of remaining with the Red Hair crew for the long term. Just long enough to get a bit of money together and purchase her own ship, something small like a sloop that she could handle by herself.

She ended up sailing with the Red Hair Pirates for around two years, give or take few months. Shanks became something of a mentor to her over that period of time, taking time to train her in Busoshoku Haki, the same type of Haki that her grandmother had used to repress Karimi's Devil Fruit abilities, so Karimi could use it herself when she wished to. It wasn't fool-proof, but it at least helped lessen the mental load.

Once on her own, Karimi ultimately began working as a mercenary; taking on jobs with various pirate crews that required stealth or a subtle touch, avoiding Marines as much as possible, and attempting to gather any information she could about her father, but to no avail on the latter front—it really seemed like he and his crew had just vanished into thin air. His bounty was still active, along with those of his first mate and officers, but no one had heard hide nor hair of them in literaly years.

Nothing much changed for her until Karimi took a job from the Buggy Pirates a few years later, at twenty-four years old. Buggy was searching for a map of the Grand Line, and he needed someone to steal it for him, since he and his crew more or less stood out like sore thumbs and couldn't very discreetly sneak into the naval base in Shells Town where it was being kept. She was reluctant to accept—she usually avoided jobs that had anything at all to do with the Marines, but Buggy made an offer she couldn't refuse.

He claimed to have information about her father that he would gladly trade for the map.

She kept her ship anchored next to Buggy's overnight to set to preparing, planning to make way for Shells Town first thing the following morning...but news came down the grapevine that night that the map had been stolen during a break-in by another pirate crew into the Marine base.

In his rage that his plans were foiled after spending months gathering information, Buggy laid the blame on the hired hand—that she had left immediately, she could have beaten the other crew to the base and gotten the map first. He ultimately sunk her sloop, nearly with her on it before she managed to gather her most valuable items and get herself onto Buggy's ship, where he informed her she would be working for him until her debt at failing to get him the map was paid off—now she was going to have to steal it from the pirates that had taken it.

Karimi had little choice but to agree—being a devil fruit user, it would be far too risky for her to steal a dinghy and take her chances with thr open oceans.

They found the crew on a schooner and took them prisoner easily enough, given that there were only three of them. Karimi recognized one of them from a description Shanks had mentioned during her time with the Red Hair Pirates of the boy he had lost his arm to a sea monster saving (a story that she had honestly thought had to be an exaggeration), who claimed to be their captain and insisted he was going to be king of the pirates...while the other two claimed they weren't even a crew.

Whatever the case, Karimi knew they were her ticket out of servitude to the Buggy Pirates, and mutinied against them the second that the odds shifted in favor of Luffy, Zoro, and Nami.

Luffy was more than happy to welcome her aboard their tiny ship, especially on learning that she knew Shanks. She didn't tell them of her devil fruit abilities, still keeping them suppressed with Haki, a mistake she would regret in the next island they made port at due largely to their schooner springing a leak. They lucked out on landing in a town with a shipyard, but none of them really had a Berry to spare between them to actually purchase a new ship—the vast majority of the money that Karimi had saved herself had sunk to the bottom of the ocean with her own ship amd most of her worldly possessions.

On meeting and quickly befriending Usopp at the shipyard and learning the owner of the place was his "best friend," they had something of a plan, if a bit of a ridiculous one—Luffy was convinced that if he just talked to Kaya and explained their situation, she would just give him a ship and they could be off and on their way.

Both Karimi and Zoro recognized the butler Klahador, but couldn't quite put their finger on why. This was Karimi's mistake—she didn't think enough of it to release her haki and just listen in on his thoughts. It wasn't until everything later fell apart in Kaya's mansion that she did release her haki and quickly learn he was Captain Kuro, a cutthroat captain who had been believed dead for years, that he had been poisoning Kaya for years, and that he planned to murder Kaya and take over the estate himself that night.

She also learned while her abilities were active that Nami had every intention of stealing the Grand Line map and taking it to the pirate crew she was serving against her will. By this point Karimi had developed a soft spot for all three members of the Strawhat Crew (even if two of them still claimed not to be a crew), but she decided not to confront Nami about it—yet.

Kaya was more than happy to gift them a ship after they helped defeat Kuro and freed her from his suppression. She offered Karimi one as well, but she declined, stating that she would prefer to purchase one herself once she had the means to do so—but that she would happily return to Syrup Village and purchase one from Kaya's family's shipyard. In truth, she was honestly enjoying her time with the ragtag little crew, and wanted to stick around with them just a bit longer to see how far Luffy's ambitions could take them.

Usopp joined them at this point as the crew's sharpshooter. They were intercepted not far from Syrup Village by a Marine ship, and Karimi recognized Vice Admiral Garp almost immediately—as did Luffy, to her and the others' astonishment on finding our that Garp was his grandfather. Luffy was able to use his devil fruit abilities to deflect a cannonball thrown at their ship by Garp, and damage Garp's ship enough for them to slip away into a dense fog and lose their pursuers.

They happened by pure luck upon the restaurant ship Baratie, where our story begins in earnest, following Luffy's idiocy at trying to pass off a very expensive bill with an I.O.U. and getting stuck washing dishes in the kitchen to pay it off.

Relationships

Helena Lionne (OC): Grandmother, deceased. A powerful pirate captain in her heyday, Helena disappeared from the seas without a word one day and no one really knew where she had gone. Helena raised Karimi from age four to fourteen, when she was tragically murdered by a revenge-crazed marine admiral whose father Helena had killed years earlier when she was still pirating. Karimi looked up to her immensely and loved her to death, and thinking about her still hurts.

Lyon D. Rollo (OC): A active pirate captain on the grand line, though no one has heard hide nor hair of him or his crew (the Hurricane Pirates) in years. She's been trying to find him for the past ten years, to tell him what happened to her grandmother/his mother, since Karimi was the only witness left alive and no one else would be able to tell him exactly what happened. It doesn't help that she last saw him at four years old, and remembers next to nothing about him. He's actually the one who gave her the hat—he took it when he left home at thirteen to become a pirate himself, and left it with her when he took her to her grandmother. (A/N, if and when I ever get to working on Any Way The Wind Blows, it will be about his history.)

Red-Haired Shanks: Working with the Red-Hair pirates for two years led to her becoming fairly close with Shanks. He had known her father over two decades and became quite protective of her as a direct result, with her looking at him almost as a father figure as well as a mentor.

Benn Beckman: The first mate of Red-Haired Shanks, Karimi learned from Shanks that her mother had been Benn's younger sister, Sedna, and that Benn absolutely despised her father and blamed him for his younger sibling's untimely death. As a result, Benn spent a while both wary and untrusting of Karimi and treating her with indifference that bordered on hostility; but he eventually let it go, accepting that she was capable (and, in his own words, "a hell of a lot smarter than Lyon D. Dipshit"),

The Marines: Karimi positively despises Marines, with the sole exception of Garp since has come to recognize that she wouldn't be alive if not for him, though good luck getting her to admit it.

Luffy: For her short spell traveling with Luffy and his "crew," she bonded with Luffy pretty quickly, coming to see him like a goofy little brother. He absolutely reveled in hearing stories about her time on the ocean, especially any that involved her time on Shanks's crew. She's quick to scold him for his naivety and questionable decisions, but it's mostly out of care; his ambition is definitely infectious, and she wants to see him achieve everything he's set out to do.

Nami: As the only other girl on the Going Merry, Karimi did her best to get close to Nami, especially on learning about her tragic situation with the Arlong Pirates via her devil fruit abilities, but Nami makes herself intentionally distant.

Zoro: She butted heads a fair bit with Zoro, largely due to both of them being exceedingly sarcastic, but she doesn't hate him by any means. Quite the contrary, she admires his abilities as a fighter and passes time sparring with him on the deck. They're about evenly matched in fighting ability, as his style relies largely on strength and her own on evasion and agility.

Usopp: Usopp is always quick to pipe in with his own epic stories of his supposed adventures when Karimi mentions any of her own past ventures. Not unlike Luffy, she looks at him almost like a younger sibling, though honestly he annoys her a little more than Luffy.

[cowboyjen68]

Heyy Ms Cowboy, HOW can I get even butcher in the new year?

This made me giggle a bit because I certainly would have asked myself that question in my younger days.

In my experience butch is not a scale so much as you either are or you aren't but in good nature I also recognize that there are butches who fit the "stereotype" (read societal expectations/community myths) of what what being butch is better than I do. I tell my best butch friend she is the "alpha butch" because she is stronger and more athletic than me. She works out and climbs mountains and I do not. We both know it is just in fun and we both are butch but we have different interests and personalities because we are humans.

My best guess is you mean in presentation. Please don't ever change what you love to do or are passionate about because some dufus says it is "not butch".

Cargo pants, Farm store hats and leather belts with random buckles suit me. You might be more of a nice button up and tie kind of butch. Ties are always a great way to accent your butch appeal.

Make sure to nod hello to other butches or random lesbians. This will definitely help your visibility. Being recognized my others you relate to is a great self esteem and confident booster.

Don't hide your swagger. Don't tone down your walk or make yourself smaller in spaces by slouching or looking down. Take in the world around you. Smile at those who could use some butch cheer in their day. Not everyone is bold or outgoing but step a little out of your comfort to make eye contact and nod hello to others. It feels good and might make women who need to see you fell safer because they know you are there.

[onmyyan]

🗡️Psycho🗡️ Anon, here again! #6 

Current Diego Dumas brain rot…

WHERE IS DIEGO’S FUCKIN COLLAR? Or like do I gotta get a leather belt and tie it around his neck n fashion it myself? I don’t mind doin it though

Imma get him some cute lil metal tags to put on the collar too with his babygirl nickname I gave him on it n a return address too with my phone number too. And the collar got them cute spikes on it too (but small and blunted)

And he gonna have a different collar when he at home with me…It gonna be a cute baby blue leather collar with crystal studs and white lace accents. And instead of identification tags, he gonna have a giant O-ring hangin so I can pull him down and drag him around the house if I need to

I’ll also just walk him on a deserted hiking trail at night too when he in his wolf form. I think I’ll just use a big ass chain at that point for the collar/leash

That’s it…for now…

Love 🗡️Psycho🗡️ Anon

His collar in the drawer by your bed

But fr I love the idea of this massive mountain of a dude submissively trailing behind you, the most self satisfied look on his face mmm to good babes