#its so rich and tasty

[mortiskiller]

@ihatemakingusernames why is this chocolate so sexy?!

[grinchwrapsupreme]

ooooughg the scene where Mitchell is confronted by the ghosts of his victims oughroguu the forced acknowledgement that he is a monster and not a victim ghghhghghghg the confession of his love for the monstrous things he's done and the inevitable regret that cannot prevent him from doing monstrous things again uuuughguhgghgooghohghggh

[powdermelonkeg]

Slowpoke Tails - Shed vs Chopped

Okay, so there's something of a discrepancy between how Slowpoke tails are treated by the Pokémon franchise. Initially, it was understood that these are a tasty, unethical luxury item, starting in Gold/Silver/Crystal and mirrored in Heartgold/Soulsilver:

The whole plot here is that Team Rocket has taken the Slowpoke in the Azalea Slowpoke Well and chopped their tails off to sell on the black market. These run for a whopping 1,000,000 PD a pop ($10k in USD).

But then, in later generations, it's said that Slowpoke tails fall off naturally. In fact, they're a crucial part of both Alolan AND Galarian cuisine:

The curry ingredient even sells for a measly 2,200 PD ($22 USD).

So what gives? Why is it a Million-Poké black market item when you can get a package off your local hiker?

Easy. Sweetness.

Slowpoke use their tails to fish for food. Typically, they do this by dipping their tails into the water, then letting the current catch the sweet sap they give off and bring it to hungry Water-types.

When a Slowpoke sheds its tail, it's because the tail's ability to generate sap has dried up. It's no longer useful as fishing bait, so the Slowpoke has to either get rid of the tail, or starve.

Shed Slowpoke tails, the ones commonly available for cooking, aren't sweet in the slightest—they're more like heavily-marbled tuna steaks, somewhere between beef and fish with a lot of fat dripping from them, and a rich umami flavor.

Chopped Slowpoke tails, the kind you find on the black market, are a completely different experience. The meat is more tender, the flavor a lot more delicate, with a sweetness permeating it that's a lot like the honey glaze on a ham.

Naturally, chopped Slowpoke tail then becomes a novel experience. Because you have to take it from a Slowpoke, you can't just find it lying around.

So why, then, is it illegal enough for Rocket to move in on? Why is Slowpoke farming or hunting for those sweet tails not a thing? They still grow them back afterwards, so what's the deal?

The problem with chopping a Slowpoke's tail off is that, even though it regenerates, its body wasn't ready to do so. This can cause a whole lot of complications for the poor thing.

A tail doesn't regenerate from nothing, for starters: every time you cut a tail off unexpectedly, the Slowpoke's body rushes to make a replacement, using up its body's fat reserves. This causes VERY rapid and dangerous weight loss, and a frankly ridiculous amount of stress.

Incorrect cuts can cause deformities, like a tail growing back too short, not being able to make enough sweetness to bait fish Pokémon, or even Espeon-tail syndrome, where the tail splits into two at the end.

And, perhaps most egregiously of all, a cut too high might mean the Slowpoke never regrows its tail at all. If you cut into anything that's not specifically tail tissue, the body will begin the scarring process over the wound, removing the Pokémon's ability to fish and evolve. And while it can learn to survive by fishing manually, like its evolutionary counterpart is required to, oftentimes, Slowpoke will just sit by the water and starve, not realizing that they aren't getting a bite because there's just nothing to bite.

In short: Shed = ethical, chopped = unethical, possibly lethal.

Slowpoke responsibly, guys.

[luminnara]

Unheavenly Creatures | Feyd Rautha/reader (NSFW 18+)

Summary: Feyd Rautha has taken a liking to you, a handmaiden accompanying your mistress on a diplomatic visit to Giedi Prime. He decides it's time to add another darling to his collection.

Warnings: knife stuff, blood stuff, mentions of murder, sex, a lil cannibalism, sex sex sex, dubcon-ish tones? lots of biting, it's feyd rautha it's not gonna be all sunshine, but he is also not as terrible as canon entirely so idk

Word count: 6k

Check out my feyd rautha playlist!

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty

The Harkonnen palace was a cold place, not in the sense that the air was crisp and you could see your own breath, but rather that the austerity of its halls and monochromatic decor felt positively frigid. As if even the buildings weren’t meant to harbor life on this toxic, forsaken rock anymore. Everything you had seen of Giedi Prime so far had felt the same—stark, brutal, inhospitable. A barren wasteland with blinding white skies and dark acid rain.

And yet, House Harkonnen seemed to thrive beneath the black sun, growing numerous and powerful and rich. Before arriving, you had heard horror stories, rumors of what Baron Vladimir and his nephews were like, none of them pretty. When you had been informed you’d been chosen to accompany your own House’s leaders on a diplomatic trip to the Harkonnen homeworld, you’d considered pretending to be sick to get out of it. Faking your own death had seemed like a valid option at that point.

But with little choice of your own, you were forced to follow along as a handmaiden, and from the moment you set foot on Giedi Prime, you were determined to keep your head down and hope that the meetings went smoothly so that you could return to your own planet as quickly as possible. As you walked dutifully behind your Lady, hands folded and eyes trained on your feet, you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose at the putrid, chemical air, unaware of the dark eyes watching you.

“My nephew, na-Baron Feyd Rautha,” Baron Harkonnen rasped, his voice like dry gravel. His words had you glancing up to finally look at what the Harkonnens considered royalty, and what was supposed to be a quick peek turned into a curious stare. The Baron himself was a large man, and he was levitating, wearing a long black robe that touched the ground even while he was so high above it. Tubes connected him to what you could only assume was some sort of breathing apparatus, a dark, spherical thing floating behind him. Standing behind him to his right was a much younger man, dressed in black and staring directly at you.

You felt a chill fly up your spine.

Feyd Rautha tore his eyes away from you and inclined his head in acknowledgement, looking to your Lord and Lady as formal pleasantries were exchanged. You kept your eyes down once more as you finally moved indoors, where the air was fresh and stale at the same time, and the walls were imposing and cold.

You followed along as your Lady was given the grand tour, a journey that ended at the guest wing. You were shown to your room and all but locked inside, left alone to inspect your temporary lodgings. If the rest of the palace was bleak, this was entirely featureless—a single boring bed sat in the center, a small table off to the side. There were no windows, not a shred of natural light despite how high the ceiling was. How anyone could willingly design such a place was beyond you, and you counted yourself lucky to only have to endure it for a short time.

Dinner was served that evening, hosted by the Baron and his nephew. You were permitted to join, dressed in a plain white gown as you sat in silence, doing your best to disappear. You could feel Feyd Rautha’s eyes upon you as you ate and tried to ignore him, cutting into what must have been meat and realizing it was rare at best, perhaps an organ from some large beast. Nonetheless you ate it, finding it adequate and perhaps even tasty, eating in the calm and measured manner expected of you back home.

Suddenly, Feyd barked a laugh. “A pet at the dinner table?”

You glanced up at him and found yourself fascinated once more. His pale skin, nearly white, was completely smooth; you had yet to see a Harkonnen with hair, though you did not know whether they removed it or simply never had it in the first place. His blue eyes were so dark they appeared black in contrast, and as he grinned at you, all you saw were black teeth, and it was somehow beautiful in that brutal, gruesome way of Giedi Prime.

“Do your pets always dine with you?” He rasped, his tone mocking.

“Na-Baron, she is not a pet,” your Lady said sternly, and you felt safe knowing that she would defend you. You were loyal to your House for a reason, after all; you knew your leaders would bring you home safe and sound. “She is my attendant.”

“You must forgive my dear nephew,” the Baron said. “Your customs are not ours.”

You expected a rebuttal, but none came, and Feyd Rautha’s eyes remained glued to you as you ate.

-0-

The negotiations seemed to stretch on.

After dinner, you had helped your Lady retire for the night and then returned to your chamber, laying in bed as you stared at the distant ceiling. All the stories you had heard of the Harkonnens swirled in your mind, and you thought of their recent extermination of House Atreides and shuddered. Your House was desperate to stay in their good graces, you knew, and who could blame them? No one wanted to end up slaughtered like the Atreides.

You told yourself that you were safe. Even if the Harkonnens had lured your Lord and Lady to Giedi Prime under false pretenses, you were only a servant; there was no reason to kill you as well. Aside from Feyd Rautha’s comments at dinner and the stark discomfort of the palace, nothing had happened to make you believe you were a target, and though you knew it was borderline blasphemous, you took some solace in the knowledge that it was more worth their while to kill your masters than you.

When you finally relaxed enough to close your eyes, however, sleep came surprisingly easily, and your dreams were simple and comfortable.

In the morning, you prepared the Lady for the day, and then she and the Lord entered their meeting with the Baron, leaving you alone. There was nothing to do but wander the guest wing, though that only occupied you for a short time as there was absolutely nothing to look at. Nothing in the way of art decorated the walls, and the architecture was so smooth and so plain you quickly grew bored of it. You doubted you would be permitted to participate in anything that even semi-resembled entertainment, and as minutes stretched into hours, you realized your feet had taken you out of the guest wing and into a corridor you had no memory of.

You turned in a circle, seeing nothing and no one familiar, and made the decision to continue on. Surely someone would have informed you of any off-limits areas upon your arrival, and with absolutely no guards in sight, it couldn’t be that bad for you to wander this area as well.

Your steps echoed around you, breaking the oppressive silence of the hall. The architecture was bafflingly different compared to that of your home, where wood and warm stone blended together to create buildings that felt welcoming. On Giedi Prime, everything was harsh and inhospitable—including the people and their homes.

Though your interactions with the Harkonnens had been brief thus far, you could confidently say that they weren’t winning any popularity contests, except perhaps amongst themselves. Nearly everything you’d ever heard about them was bad, and so far, you mostly found them strange; the Baron was fearsome in the way a sick, desperate animal was, with those eyes that followed people as if he were wondering what it would be like to crush their necks in his hands just because he could.

His nephew, on the other hand, was fearsome in the way a predator was. His movements were smooth and confident at dinner the night before, his eyes calculating as if counting how many moves it would take him to press a knife into your gut. You had heard of Feyd Rautha, the pretty boy of Giedi Prime, but you had never seen him before yesterday, and quite frankly, you had expected something else…but then again, what had you even expected at all? The na-Baron was surely cruel just as his uncle was, but he seemed…different.

The clang of metal followed by the sound of a muffled thud startled you out of your thoughts of Feyd, and with a start, you realized you were standing outside a closed door. It was the first noise you’d heard that wasn’t your own all day, and your heart pounded as you quickly stepped back. Perhaps you should run, lest you be caught outside the guest wing. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter at all, as no one has explicitly ordered you to remain in your chamber. And, above all else, perhaps you were curious about what lay on the other side of the door, and you took a step forward again.

It was only a heartbeat later that it opened, revealing Feyd Rautha.

“Well, well,” he said, voice rough, “what do we have here?”

He was dressed in all black, in what you assumed were casual clothes for the Harkonnen royalty.

“Apologies, Feyd Rautha,” you said quickly. “I was passing by and heard a sound.”

You could feel his eyes raking over you as he listened. Then, a smirk crept across his lips, and he help up a bloody dagger.

He did so slowly, and you knew it to be an attempt at intimidation. He wanted you scared. He wanted to shock and disgust the outsider who came from another great house, who had surely never encountered anything like him before.

But you were tougher than that. You may have been a handmaiden for a spoiled aristocrat, but on your planet, hunting was common. You’d had your fair share of field dressing game, and you weren’t one to shy away from a knife.

You eyed the dark blood dripping from the blade, then focused on his face once more. “I apologize if I have caused an interruption.”

“Not at all,” he said, brow twitching as he tilted his head slightly. “Though you are to address me as na-Baron. Only my darlings may use my name.”

“Of course, na-Baron. My apologies.”

“Why are you not in the guest wing, little pet?”

“I have nothing to do, na-Baron.” You shrugged.

This time, he grinned, baring black teeth. If he expected you to cringe away, he would be surprised to find that you seemed almost unimpressed with the display. “So you walk freely, as though you own this palace. I could kill you for the insolence.”

You looked at him boredly.

“I could gut you.” He took a step towards you. “Stick this knife into you. Right. Here.”

He was standing before you, the tip of the blade poking your belly, still grinning. At your lack of reaction, however, the grin faded slightly, nearly faltering.

“Not there,” you replied, a bit amused by his lack of skill.

“What?”

“If you aim to gut me, that’s a terrible place to start.” You wrapped a hand around his and moved the knife over slightly. “This is better.”

He watched your face. “You’re a Bene Gesserit witch.”

“No,” your lip quirked in a small smile. “No, I’m experienced in the ways of hunting and traditional field dressing. Our House is known for them.”

“You’re a hunter? A weak, little thing like you?” He pressed the blade against your dress and laughed.

You considered stepping back, away from the na-Baron and his knife, but you recognized the growing fervor in his eyes. He wanted to hunt, to pursue, to drive the blade forward until he could feel your blood on his skin. Feyd was like a hunting hound, eager to follow the scent of his prey, easily triggered by the chase. So you stood still, studying his pale, smooth face.

“The Lord and Lady enjoy hunting on the estate.” You finally answered. “I often assist in dressing the game after.”

“But have you killed?”

“My uncle took me hunting when I was young. I learned much about the ways of nature and the hunt.”

“You speak so formally,” he taunted, leaning in.

“I do, na-Baron,” you replied curtly. “I do not wish to offend.”

With a sick smirk, he leaned into you even further, lips brushing your ear. “Have you killed a human?”

You watched him from the corner of your eye, and he watched you.

“Na-Baron, I fear I’m lost. I’ll return to the guest wing promptly if you’ll point me in the right direction—“

“Don’t change the subject, pet.” He drew back. “Lying to me is unwise.”

You swallowed hard. “Why do you wish to know?”

“You’ve caught my eye, little one,” he withdrew the blade, leaving the smallest stain on your dress. “And you’ve already told me all I need to know.”

You felt a chill, the back of your neck tingling as you watched him raise the bloody knife and lick it clean. Feyd Rautha was dangerous. More dangerous than you knew.

“Return to the guest wing,” he rasped. “I must attend to my darlings. They grow lonely without me.”

You stared, perplexed, as he strode away, an uneasy feeling washing over you as you turned and hurried back the way you had come. The sooner you could leave Giedi Prime and its unnerving House, the better.

-0-

“What?”

“Hush.” Your mistress scolded you, but you barely heard her.

Your head was too busy spinning.

“You are to remain here,” your Lord repeated. “In the employ of the na-Baron Feyd Rautha.”

Your heart dropped in a sickening way.

“You’ve been so very good to me,” the Lady said. “You’ll serve House Harkonnen very well, I am certain of it.”

“But I-I—I’m…” you paused, trying to catch your breath and quell the panic tightening your chest. “I’m loyal to our House, milady. And I want to return home, to the palace, and serve you.”

“Baron Harkonnen was insistent,” your Lord said flippantly. “It seems Feyd Rautha approached him sometime after our meeting yesterday, and this morning as we finalized the agreements, it was decided you’d be included in the negotiations. Imagine that, a fresh alliance with House Harkonnen and a fine sum for a handmaiden!”

“You…sold me?” You asked, your voice sounding incredibly small.

“Now, I’m sure you’re nervous, but really, these Harkonnens are nothing to worry about. Those nasty rumors back home are simply that, and I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of. Now, we must depart at once, and you are to be shown to the na-Baron’s chambers.”

“Ta ta, dear one!”

And just like that, your entire world was shattered.

As you followed a Harkonnen servant through the corridors, you kept your head down. You felt furious and lost, anger twisting in your gut. So much for loyalty—never before had you been made to feel so easily replaced, and yet they had given you away so willingly you could hardly believe it. Whatever negotiations had been made, whatever new deals struck, you had been deemed unimportant enough to your House to simply be left in the care of a dangerous man, and now you felt your very life was suddenly in grave danger.

“We have arrived, milady,” your guide said timidly, hunching her shoulders and clasping her hands tightly as you turned to look at her.

“Thank you,” you replied, brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “Am I to…enter?”

“Yes, milady,” she seemed to bite the words, not angrily, but in an effort to get them out quickly.

“Is Feyd Rautha inside?”

“Yes.” Came the whispered affirmative.

The bald woman was nearly trembling, and you felt as though perhaps you should be, as well. Feyd Rautha had been intimidating every time you interacted with him, and now that he had made the baffling decision to demand you remain on his planet, you were beginning to think you ought to fear him.

But he was only a man, you reminded yourself as you faced the door. Not a god. Not some supernatural being. The na-Baron was flesh and blood.

With a deep breath, you opened the door.

“You enter unannounced?” A familiar voice rasped.

Feyd Rautha was indeed inside what appeared to be living quarters, and the room seemed lavish by Harkonnen standards. A large bed with black sheets sat against the far wall, before which was a simple sitting area featuring oddly shaped sofas, all black as well. A mirror was mounted on the wall near the bed, and you chose not to wonder about its placement. You spied two doors on either side of the room, and in its center, stood the na-Baron.

“I was told to come here,” you said, voice tinged with irritation.

“And so you have,” he smirked, twirling a dagger in his hand as he approached you. "Obedient."

When he reached you, invading your space and nearly brushing against your chest with his, he caught the way your nostrils flared angrily and grinned. His black teeth, previously so fascinating, brought only annoyance now, much like the rest of him.

“May I ask what exactly is going on, na-Baron?”

“Oh, I simply couldn’t let you leave,” you felt his blade as the flat of it pressed up against your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I had to have you, pet.”

“I am not a pet,” you spat, unable to contain yourself any longer. “And I demand to know exactly why I’ve been sold as one.”

The knife was pulled away as Feyd circled you. In the mirror near the bed, you could see him looking you up and down, appraising you freely now that the two of you were hidden from the rest of the galaxy.

“Your masters gave you away easily,” he said, stopping behind you. “They did not realize your true potential.”

“My potential?” You hissed, head jerking to the side to watch him from the corner of your eye. “And what might that be, na-Baron?”

In a blink, he had leaned in, rough hands suddenly gripping your sides as he brought his lips to your ear. “Call me Feyd.”

His too-hot breath on your neck and the tone of his voice caused your anger to stutter. “I-I thought only your darlings called you by your name?”

“Oh, it’s a clever pet,” he taunted, nipping your earlobe sharply. When he saw that you stayed still and didn’t flinch, he seemed pleased. “What do you know of my darlings?”

“N-nothing, I don’t even know what that means,” you answered truthfully.

“My darlings,” he began, a hand moving up to brush through your hair, short in the style of your position—former position—within your—former—house. “Are the most beautiful creatures. They are very special to me.”

You were in danger.

You knew it.

“I want you.” He said simply, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, and you knew he meant in every way. “Give yourself freely.”

“Why me?” You asked, mustering your courage to speak above a whisper.

He chuckled at that, running his tongue up your spine to the base of your skull. “You are just right, the perfect addition. You are unafraid. You have a taste for meat. And you have killed.”

You were silent for a moment, jaw squared. “I never told you that.”

His hands were creeping over your hips now, across the front of your dress. When he spoke, his voice was low and heady. “Who was it?”

Another long pause came as you wrestled with yourself, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth as you finally tried to speak.

“My father.”

As Feyd Rautha let out a guttural groan at your admittance, you stared at yourself in the mirror, and nearly didn’t recognize the person you saw.

“You and I are alike, pet,” his hands squeezed at you harshly while his nose pressed into your hair. “I killed my mother.”

A part of you felt sick at the suggestion that you were anything like the monster that was Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. Another part of you felt a strange comfort in the knowledge that you weren’t the only one in the room who had committed parricide.

“I haven’t shared that in a long time,” you admitted.

“Did he fight it?”

You could feel his arousal as he pushed his hips against you, the sensation bringing an unexpected fire to your core.

“Yes.”

“Did he deserve it?”

You stared at yourself in the mirror and saw an unexpected harshness in your eyes, the polite handmaiden now completely absent, replaced by what you had feared you truly were ever since the day of your father’s death; a killer.

“Yes.”

But if you had feared that you were bad for it, that you deserved punishment, Feyd Rautha seemed determined to prove otherwise. He turned you in his arms, never letting go, and brought his lips to yours in a greedy kiss.

“I need you now,” he breathed, almost sounding vulnerable for a moment.

“Take me,” you said against his lips, determined not to stop and think about what exactly you were doing.

If you were going to be kept and tortured by a Harkonnen prince, you may as well enjoy your last moments, right?

Feyd Rautha guided you to his bed in a way that was somehow both smooth and rough, gentle and demanding. He didn’t want to break you, but he wanted to see how far he could bend you before you snapped. He wanted to test you.

Your dress was quickly thrown to the wayside, torn by his dagger, his clothing following suit. As you lay on your back, fully bared to him, he crept over you, eyes taking over your body as he continued his earlier appraisal.

“So strange,” he muttered as he brushed his fingers over the soft hair between your legs.

“Are you…truly hairless?” You asked, eyeing his smooth groin. “You don’t…remove it?”

“Hair is…barbaric.”

You could have laughed at the irony of him of all people calling you a barbarian.

“I do not hate it on you,” he decided after careful consideration. “Perhaps you will keep this, for now.”

You had the odd feeling that you should feel grateful for the honor.

“It will set you apart from my other darlings,” his body moved over yours, eclipsing you as his hand reached between your legs.

He stroked you there, rubbing in a way that wasn’t gentle, wasn’t harsh, and wasn’t patient, all at once. When his lips captured yours once more, your mind spun—but it was a decidedly more pleasant spin than that short while ago when your entire world came crashing down. Feyd Rautha, while somewhat terrifying, was exhilarating, and as his fingers plunged inside of you and his kisses turned into demanding bites, you thought that perhaps this wasn’t so bad.

“That’s it,” he breathed, voice husky. “I want to hear you.”

Your whines and moans filled the heavy air. Feyd Rautha sought to conquer you, you realized; as you came, it wasn’t so much a favor to you as it was an ego boost for him. Either way, you benefited, and as he sheathed himself within you and his hips began rocking back and forth, you were glad for the warm up.

“F-Feyd,” you panted, nails digging into his back as you wrapped yourself around him.

He answered you with a low moan, face hidden in your neck. The na-Baron was merciless, driving into you over and over…but the heat that bloomed inside of you, that feeling that stemmed from your belly and ran all the way to your fingertips…was exhilarating.

He leaned back, one hand gripping your hip harshly, no doubt leaving bruises. The other found your throat and his fingers wrapped around it, squeezing, reminding you who he was. The heir to the Harkonnen throne. The pride of Giedi Prime.

Feyd Rautha.

Your face tingled as he held you, eyes seeking out his. The blue was nearly black, his pupils huge, like a big cat hunting in the dark. He was watching you, frenzied, feral in his ministrations, as if you were his prey and he had finally caught you. Just as your vision began to tunnel he let go and you gasped, gulping in air as he suddenly pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, manhandling you easily as you sank down onto him once more.

His hands were like a vice, pulling your hips down as he pushed up into you, still fucking you mercilessly even in this new position. You would never have expected this from him; you felt too powerful on top of him, too in control of someone who gave you every reason to assume that he wanted to be. That he would be the one weighing down on you, that he would forever and always be hovering over you as he made harsh demands. He was, truly, not as harsh as expected...not that you had ever, for a second, expected to be there with him.

He watched your tits bouncing above him, so much flesh laid bare for him to enjoy, and he soon pulled you down. When you expected him to return to your swollen lips, however, he instead moved his mouth to your chest, greedily sucking and biting your soft skin. He sank his teeth into you, reveling in your sharp gasp, answering it with a beastly groan that was so low and so loud you half imagined it must have shook the walls. The sound had your stomach twisting delightfully, your head fuzzy as Feyd Rautha pulled you closer, closer, closer, until you hardly knew where you ended and where he began. Half-formed thoughts swam in your head, none of them coherent, all of them about him as you desperately clawed at the arms that held you so tightly. He had wanted you, and now he had you, completely, all of you, in every sense of the word.

In that moment, you didn't hate it, or him, or that place; you wanted more. You wanted more of him. As your orgasm mounted, breaths coming in gasps, eyes glued to the pale man below you, you felt happy. Later, you would try to reason with yourself, tell yourself that it was simply chemicals in your brain that brought this on, but in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to do this over and over and over again with him.

"Yes," he rasped, voice muffled by your breasts. You felt the wet heat of his tongue in your cleavage, followed by the sharp bite of his teeth as he pulled you down onto himself. "Take it."

"Feyd," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as your fingernails dug into his scalp. "Feyd!"

It came out as a half-scream as you felt the sting of his teeth, and it was enough to push you over the edge, plunging down into the abyss that was Feyd Rautha's love. His breath stuttered as his hips drove up against you, a growl sounding from deep within his chest as he came inside of you.

You felt his heart pounding as he held you, a sheen of sweat covering his smooth, pale body. You slumped over him, arms falling onto his shoulders limply. You thought you heard him laugh lightly.

"Good," he said, more to himself than to you.

He moved you easily, rolling you off of him and onto the bed as he pulled himself out. You felt slick and thoroughly used, not in a bad way, but in the way you imagined lovemaking should feel. You had never expected to feel such passion from Feyd Rautha, of all people. From a Harkonnen.

"Come." he stood and slipped his arms under you, scooping you up. Your arms immediately hooked around his neck, and as he carried you to one of the adjoining rooms, you wondered at how natural it felt to be with him now.

The door opened to reveal a steamy, dark bathing room, a large basin filled with dark liquid positioned in the floor. Feyd Rautha sank down into it and as you leaned your head against his shoulder, you heaved a sigh. The liquid was thicker than water but thinner than mud, like nothing you had ever felt before, and it was warm, soothing your bitemarks and sore muscles.

"What is this?" you managed to ask after several minutes of silence.

"Hmph." Feyd Rautha laughed, his whole body moving with the sound. "Oil and blood."

He paused, waiting for your reaction.

"...Ah." you said, wrinkling your nose for a moment as you looked down at the bubbling goo. "...It's nice."

His lips spread into a wide grin. "You don't find it disgusting, my darling?"

"It feels too nice to be disgusting right now."

Feyd Rautha moved a large hand to the side of your head and held you against him, pressing a kiss to your temple in a way that was almost tender. "Rest now. You will need it."

Too tired to ask why, you simply nodded, sinking into him as the blood bath steamed around you. If this was to be your fate now, you didn't mind it; and if he killed you tomorrow, at least your final day had turned out somewhat enjoyable.

-0-

"Do you like it?'

The question was simple, only four words, and yet it was never one you had expected to hear Feyd Rautha ask.

You had been living in his chambers for a week, sleeping next to him, eating with him, wearing what he chose and accompanying him wherever he went. You saw more of the Harkonnen palace--the training room was a frequent haunt, and you realized that it was the room you had wandered to on the day of your first conversation with him. You saw more of Feyd Rautha, as well, and you noticed how quickly he often decided to kill those around him.

But not you.

Never you.

He had yet to do anything worse than bite or scratch, occasionally bending your limbs too far when he tested your physical capabilities in his bed but always letting you go just before any real injury occurred. You often felt the smooth metal of his blades, but they never cut deep; he mentioned once that perhaps he would mark you with one soon, leave a scar that only he would ever be allowed to see, but he had yet to enact that fantasy. You weren't sure if that was good or bad.

Now, you stood before him, wearing a simple black dress that clung to your body and shone as if it were always wet, and your head felt too cold.

"I...don't hate it," you decided as you looked at your reflection.

"Good." he ran a hand over your smooth scalp.

"Will it grow back?"

"At first." he said in his accent that was growing more and more familiar to hear. "Eventually it will stop."

"And the rest...?"

He smirked, turning you to face him. "I told you, that will set you apart from my other darlings."

At the mention of their collective name, a hiss sounded from across the room.

You twisted your head to the side, spying the two women you had been introduced to three days earlier. One--who you had learned had been Feyd's the longest--sported a thick black line down her forehead today, but they were otherwise identical. They watched you curiously, bald heads tilted as they looked at you with big, black eyes. Their dresses were similar to yours, and as you glanced back at the mirror, you realized how you really didn't recognize yourself anymore.

Your teeth had been stained black already, your hair and eyebrows shaved and then the skin treated with something that the servants had explained would keep the hair away. You had already undergone one strange Harkonnen beauty treatment in what you had come to learn was a medical spa, and it was the only one that had frightened you--a strange machine had bared down upon you and done something to your eyes, injecting something that changed them and yet didn't change them, causing them to become big and black like Feyd's other darlings. You actually thought your eyesight was better now, somehow.

You matched them now, you realized, like a member of a set. Feyd Rautha's third concubine.

It was an upgrade from your last job, you supposed.

"It suits you." he pressed his lips to the base of your neck. "My darling."

"Thank you, Feyd," you said, growing more and more used to calling him by his name with every time you said it.

You felt him smirk against your skin. He was no doubt very pleased with himself, having managed to completely transform a murderous handmaiden into a sinister harpy in the course of only one week. Granted, Giedi Prime's days were significantly longer than on your home planet, but it was still a commendable haste.

"Come." he rasped in that gravelly voice you were beginning to love. "All of us. It is time for the arena."

He set off towards the door and you waited for the others before falling in behind them, moving as if the three of you had always belonged together.

"Will there be food?" one of them asked in a harsh, hissing voice.

"Yes," Feyd said gleefully.

"Hearts and lungs?" the other asked hopefully.

"Only the best for my darlings."

"Human?" she demanded clarification.

Feyd looked back over his shoulder, his eyes finding you even though he knew you had not asked the question. "Of course."

You stared back at him, swallowing hard. Human?

He grinned, and the others looked at each other excitedly. They both glanced to you and you gave the best black-toothed grin you could, not wanting to give any of them any reason to be displeased with you. Not after you had done so well all week.

Feyd Rautha led the way to the arena you had learned he loved to fight captured Atreides soldiers in, and after a short preparation (during which he killed at least two servants), a guard led him away while you and the others were taken up to a viewing room.

When you stepped inside you saw that a feast had already been laid out, platters of rare meat covering a short buffet table. As sunlight--or a lack thereof? Giedi Prime's sun continued to baffle you--light the room in that strange, black and white, infrared way, you stared at the food. You recognized it. Despite its human origins, you had no reason to be disgusted by it--because you had already eaten it, on that very first night, when Feyd Rautha had watched you cutting into your meal and commented on your presence at the dinner table.

As the others approached, picking out their favorites--lungs for one, a heart for the other--a grin found its way onto your face. Yes. Perhaps this was exactly where you belonged.

The crowd outside erupted in a roar of cheers as Feyd stalked into the sandy arena, and as you settled in next to the others to watch, you smiled to yourself. There was nowhere else you'd rather be in that moment than on Giedi Prime, eagerly awaiting the moment you could return to Feyd Rautha's chambers and celebrate his victory.

PART TWO

[rboooks]

The bakery is a front!...right? Part 3

Danny carefully finished the last details on a special order cake done by his newest and likely most crucial customer should the man like his pastries.

Bruce Wayne's butler was to arrive in twenty minutes for his youngest son's birthday cake. It was a staking tower and three smaller stacks, each depicting a cow on a farm, and a cat sleeping with a dog in the middle of a leap. Damian had asked for a cake that showed all his pets but was vegan.

It was an honestly fun order even if he didn't quite understand the special instructions.

"Damian's school friends mention a fun new "suger energy" coming from this bakery. I want him not to be seen as someone out of touch, so please make sure to add that in," Bruce Wayne said over the phone to a shocked Danny a week prior. If he got Wayne's attention, then soon his bakery would be the newest hot spot in Gotham!

It would be the perfect cover for bringing over more funds from his Ghost Vault and expanding. He could help many more people with employment without bringing the pesky IRS on his head for having unexplainable cash.

Sometimes doing everything by the book was a headache and a half, but if there was one thing Fentons knew how to do, was make their business significantly legal. How else would his parents file taxes for "ghost hunting?"

Handsome possible mate is near. Phantom purred in his mind while Danny spun the cake one last time to ensure everything was in order.

Sure enough Alvin appears at the kitchen door, not quite within the room, staring

. Danny has no problems with who is in his kitchen, but Andres insisted only kitchen staff needed to be back here. Apparently, they didn't have enough legroom to add more people, taking up unnecessary space.

And Andres had a strange urge to keep all their recipes a secret. It was not uncommon in Gotham for big corporations to send in spies and cause small businesses to go bankrupt when selling their secerts.

Danny, knows he's a good baker, has since he was a child. Even before his move, he could convince other ghosts Rogues to stop mid-fight for a snack break because his creations were tasty. While his original recipes falling into the hands of greedy rich men made him squirm, it was primarily due to someone taking credit for his work rather than any funds lost to them.

So after a while, he agreed to Andres' demands and promoted him to store manager. It was easier to have someone from Gotham run a Gotham shop. It left Danny with more time to bake and keep a eye on the community's recovery.

He was so happy to see that overdoses had gone down by nearly sixty percent since he opened. The homeless population had decreased by forty percent, and overall crime in his area had been a good twenty percent.

It was good to see how he was protecting his haunt.

"Danny" Alvin called after a moment. "Do you need help?"

Now, Alvin is a great guy, cute too but he couldn't decorate a cupcake to save his life. His bother was a better hand in the kitchen.

Bring him to our nessssstttt Phantom urged with a shocking wave of want, almost having Danny tumble over. Ugh, his mating season is getting out of hand.

He had seen Frostbite last week about it, but the yeti told him it was perfectly natural for ecto-beings. He would start to stabilize soon, and hopefully, Phantom would no longer be tripping over its tail to get a significant other and start a family.

His nesting problem only grew recently. Now Danny owned every building on the block- primarily due to the facilities being old businesses that went bankrupt years ago and made it super cheap after sitting there for years collecting dust. He had realized that kids didn't feel safe with adults, so a new building went up for homeless adults on his other side. Then he realized that they could benefit from a laundry place which happened to be one of the businesses that went under.

He got that remodeled and threw more goons into it. Scarecrow's old goons had gotten the word out that Danny paid well, gave excellent benefits, and working for him had the less likely chance of getting their face smashed in. Then a homeless kid asked Danny if he could borrow his bathroom because the temporary ones in the side buildings were small and cold, and the kid really missed splashing around in a tub instead of a shower. He realized he also needed to offer that. So one of the buildings was turned into a bathhouse, with rentable personal spa rooms for regular citizens. Now a community laundromat and bathhouse were open at all hours, helping stop the spread of diseases with good hygiene.

Of course, Danny had to make it seem like the money for all of this came from somewhere. He contacted Vlad, whose status as a billionaire made it easy to wire him the funds. When asked, Vlad would only mention trying to get into his step-kids good side.

He still had plenty of street kids doing bakery deliveries for him, but now he had more space to give them a actually apartment. He of course never ask for commitment and they never gave it to him.

He had a few families approach him to rest out the other buildings for business and he was excited to see different restaurants and cafes blooming to life around him. This whole street, once a dead sad thing, was becoming colorful because of him.

'I'm fine thank you Alvin" Danny says shooting the younger man a grin. Alvin face heats up and Phantom is practically beating its head against a wall. Screaming, crying as Alvin plays with bit of his hair at the bottom of his neck.

Danny swallows down the urge run his fingers through it, focusing on his human side as hard as he could.

"Is that the cake with the special ingredient? The one you send the street kids on deliverieswith?" Alvin asks after a moment pause.

"Sure is. Hopefully, we can get the Wayne's hooked on it. It'll be great for business." Danny smiles. There is a split second where Alvin's face tightens around the mouth like he's angry before it's gone.

"Yeah, I bet. Though with the help of Masters, we won't have to worry about funds for a while, right?"

Putting his tools in the sink to soak, the baker shrugs. "Vlad will help but only after he sees potential in something. The set up I have going got his attention cause of our special ingredient. He's dabbled with it before, you know? That's how he got rich"

Alvin jerks his head in his direction. "So he's an expert?"

"More than an expert. He's the main reason we have so much of this stuff to push. I wouldn't be able to get it on my own without his help," Danny says, absent minded. He's busy trying to beat Phantom back with a stick as his ghost side whines for a child of their own.

He's not going to date any of his employees. That's a weird power imbalance that Jazz would never approve of.

Maybe he should take some time away from the bakery for a while. Danny couldn't find true love if he was always working. He'll ask Tucker and Sam to come to some clubs or something. It could be fun.

I want a baby! Phantom sneered outrage that his demands have been ignored.

Soon Danny promised I'd eat two whole bagels later in the meantime.

"Masters is our leading supplier, and he just lets us manage his goods without instruction? Isn't that a bit unorthodox?

Danny blinks " I guess? Vlad's always done some unorthodox deals. His giving me complete control will likely keep him out of the picture once someone catches on. Gosh, sometimes I wish I got out of the family business as my sisters did, but one of us had done this, or our parents would be unbearable."

Alvin Draper looks sadden "Your parents pushed you into this life?"

"Raised me in it," Danny corrects "My dad and I made his special Fruge for the first time when I was three. Been hooked ever since."

Just then Peter is there looking horror stuck "Your old man got you hooked at age three?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you keep doing it then?"

"The baking? Well, it's ugh part of me now. I'll die of I stop- er die completely. "

Alvin snatched his hand to tug him close, and wow, he was stronger than he looked for a nineteen-year-old. Phantom woofs as the man practically lefts him off the floor to set him on the counter and stare into his eyes. "You don't have to live like this anymore. Let me help you. Let me protect you"

Both Danny and Phantom chock on their shared spit at the best flirting method anyone could use against a protective spirit.

The promise of protection was like someone whispering sweet nothings in his ear during love making.

"I got to go!" He screams jumping away from the brothers to run out of his own bakery in a panic.

Goodness. I need a vacation. Maybe my sisters would be down for some ectoplasm collecting in the Ghost Zone?

(Jason and Tim take the cake for Damian back to the cave, swearing when the test come back as a regular vegan cake. Had Tim stepped in too early and stop Danny from adding the drug?

Jason was angry that Danny was just another kid the adult around him failed. But now Danny was one of those adults, and it's killed him to admit it, but he would still shoot Danny in order to stop the cycle.

Bruce, after confirming the cake was delicate, shared a slice with his youngest, who adored the flavor. It was the best cake he's ever had. Such a waste of talent on crime.

At least the Bats had a new lead. Vlad Masters and his mysterious rise to wealth. They would get him and Danny off the streets.

Danny is miles away, fanning his blushing face as his sister demands more information of the cute baker boy that knew how to flirt with protection ghosts. )

( Part 1) (Part 2), (Part 4)

[aliidarling]

yandere!gojo with civilian reader

GOJO SATORU x fem!reader

— dark content / lil oneshot kinda blurb

summary; gojo is interested in you, a broke college student! aren’t you just the luckiest!… right?

warnings; gojo, no nsfw but gojos creepiness makes up for it, yandere, stalking and creepy gojo.., mentions of blood, cursed spirits, gojo being an asshole, no beta we die like satosugo, this isn’t too dark ngl

this is just a small thing i thought of, it’s very random and definitely not finished LMAO

let’s say your a civilian in tokyo. you’re halfway done with college and you work half time at the local bakery, always stuffing your face in pastries or books. not one moment of your life is eventful or ‘exciting’— it’s quiet, calm and mostly, peaceful. you wouldn’t have it any other day.

until one day a tall pale man with an odd hair color waltz into your bakery. he has snow-white locks and wears black sunglasses, the lenses completely hiding away his eyes for some reason. you found it odd at first but you’ve learnt over the years to not butt your nose in other peoples lives.

he’s absolutely gorgeous, sadly. tall, a lean build under his light blue blouse, with a cocky smile on his perfect pink lips. he was something straight out of a fairy tale. too bad you would never be the princess in one of those tales, instead the background character you’d walk pass and never think about again.

you greet him with your famous smile, your apron covered in flour with your lashes fluttering at him so sweetly he can feel his heart skipping a few beats. he had never seen someone so gorgeous, so pretty and cute. you had the cutest round cheeks with a natural pink tint, perfect hair with perfect eyes and perfect body and perfect everything—

“can i get a mochi filled rice cake with rainbow sprinkles? and a caramel frappe with extra whipped cream and caramel— ooh! and id love some strawberry pudding too, sweetheart.” he giggles.

your slightlyyyy taken off guard by his sugary appetite, but hey, at least he wasn’t an alcoholic or one of those ‘black coffee’ freaks. you smile and type his order in, your tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.

“that will be twenty six dollars and thirty nine cents, sir.” you smile politely, trying your best not to check this absolutely gorgeous stud out.

he grins, fiddling with his wallet. he makes sure to flash the wallet at you subtly, wanting to impress you. you spit the glimpse of something gold glinting in his hands and quickly sneak a side eye, the expensive brand name immediately making you flinch. rich people scare you.

“take the change.” he winks, handing you exactly twenty seven dollars. oh wow. sixty one cents tip. how kind.

“thank you, sir.” you nod in gratitude and stuff the money in the cashier, ringing up his order. your fingers quickly type in his order and print out the receipt, handing it to him. his clean nails and slender fingers catch you off guard as they brush against your fingers, obviously on purpose if you take a small look at the glint of smugness in his blue eyes(if he wasn’t wearing those stupid sunglasses.)

you don’t see him for a little bit after that. he’s completely disappears and you eventually forget about him, forget the fact he even exist. he was just another civilian after all.

but then one day on the way home you’re challenged with a threat to your life. it was a peaceful day so far, only three classes with the entirety of your evening spent in your bakery, cooking and baking and socializing with others as little as possible. you accidentally pricked your finger with a knife at one point which led to a small bandage wrapped around your index fingers, right under your gel-covered nails of your favorite shade.

a cursed spirit near by is strolling past with its jaw open, drooling at the scent of yummy cinnamon rolls and chocolate chips. you smelt so good, like a bakery, so tasty. it smelt something stronger in you as well; a familiar coming that belonged to the strongest. it wants a piece. it wants you.

it doesn’t take long to catch up with you, grabbing you from the back and sending you stumbling. you gasp as your thrown onto the hard concrete before you, blinking stupidly at the lack of people around you. what just happened? you scurry onto your feet, patting down your knees that were slightly bruised now, a frown on your quivering lips. no way a gust of wind had made you collapse so abruptly. it felt like someone had shoved you with full force.

a shaky sigh leaves your lips and you decide to move on with your night. you want to go home, after all. today was going to be movie night with you and your roommate. only ten more minutes till you reached the comforting presence of your apartment, you could do this.

you start walking back in the direction of your destination when you’re met face to face with the most disgusting thing you’ve ever encountered. no way it’s human, not with gouging eyes and melting skin, the distasteful scent of death attached to it. the aura around you became dark immediately, as if the entire street had faded into a dark abyss.

was this really how you were gonna die?

suddenly, the disgusting piece of crap literally explodes on you, covering you in purple blood. you immediately feel your lunch come up your throat, a shocked sob coming out of your throat as your knees buckle. you stumble back in shock, not sure on what the hell happened, before you feel your back collide with a firm chest.

you shriek and turn around quickly, blinking quickly and holding your backpack for dear life, phone to your chest. you’re covered in the purple blood and maybe a little bit of your own vomit, a completely distraught and terrified expression on your face.

and now the cocky bastard from a few days ago stands in front of you with his infamous cocky grin, holding up your keys with his finger, dangling it in front of your face tauntingly.

“you dropped this, honey!” he chirps, humming as he opens your backpack and stuffs your keys inside it obnoxiously, smiling down at you. he zips up your backpack and gives you a little pat on the head, cooing down at you like you were the most adorable little thing he had ever come across. you were. he wanted to grab you and kidnap you, keep you all to himself. his little secret.

“did you see that? the thing? it exploded— it’s all over me, i can’t— i can’t breathe, it’s so strong, the scent,” you ramble dumbly. you’re too sweet, he thinks. you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. you’re freaking out, your breath heavy as you hyperventilate. he gently shushes you, bringing his hand over your sticky hair and gently petting you.

“are you okay? you sound crazy, no offense.” he chuckles lightly, taking your hand in his. he’s very touchy for a man you’ve only met twice.

“let me walk you home, okay? we can’t have anything happening to a sweet little thing like you.” he soothes you. his charming tone and award-winning smile wins you over, sadly. you’re led home by him, trembling still. you don’t even realize the fact he knew your address without asking you for it.

he let you off that night with a simple kiss on the forehead. he came into your life like it was nothing, out of nowhere, seconds after you almost died— only to disappear once again like he never existed. you couldn’t process what was going on, what that disgusting animal was, what happened and how it exploded, and how he was there in the dark alley way.

all those thoughts clouded your brain, distracting you from reality. you couldn’t focus on your work, couldn’t focus at school, you accidentally spilled flour while you baked or tipped over a customers drink. your fingers couldn’t stop trembling whenever you’d look up and you’d see one of those disgusting animals on the ceiling of your bakery. sitting there. waiting.

they were everywhere. you’d go on the street and you’d see almost a dozen of them as you tried to walk home. there were some even clinging onto people, some stalking and others making their moves. you didn’t know what to do. what were these things? why were you the only one who could see them? were you cursed? damned?

meanwhile, satoru was having the time of his life. stalking you from the shadows, coming to your cafe every other day to ask for the same sugarized order, a big silly grin on his face. he made sure to play with your feelings. he thought this was so much fun.

“wait— before you go,” you suddenly spoke up one afternoon, stopping him right when he was about to walk out. a knowing smile tugs at his lips as he turns back to you, leaning against the counter.

“hmmm? what is it?”

you fiddle with your fingers for a moment, glancing anxiously around the shop and noticing how all the disgusting animals had suddenly disappeared. this happened every time he would walk in, the animals would scurry off in fear leaving just the two of you. it eased your worry but made you question as well.

“the other week.” you start hesitantly, leaning closer. “the alley way.. did you.. are you sure you didn’t see anything? there was someone— something!” you plead, a ting of desperation in your voice. of course you were desperate, you thought you were going insane.

“i’m sorry, but i don’t know what you’re talking about.” he coos sweetly, sipping his caramel frappe. the loud slurping fills the silence between the two of you. a few more weeks of this madness surrounding you and you’d have the courage to jump over the counter and pounce on him.

“..okay. have a good way, sir.” you mumble, sulking in defeat.

“satoru.” he corrects.

you blink in surprise. you peek up at him as he casually leaves the store, leaving you standing there in silence. soon enough, the dark animals come back and surround you, staring at you. doing nothing else but gaze.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

can you write bachelors with a cryptid farmer? except they're not a cryptid, just a very strange person. and by that I mean the fact farmer will simply appear one day, start giving their love interest their loved items from the get go, character doesn't even know them! and then there's the fishing in weird places, always seeming to know where and what a character is doing, always running from one place to another, sometimes passing out in the deepest depths of the caves. very weird human.

I assume, dear anon, that you mean vanilla bachelors only. Hope I'm not wrong. Anyway, thanks for asking, and enjoy! 💖🫰

_________________________________________

SDV bachelors with a cryptid Farmer:

Well, Sam wasn't too surprised about favourite gifts - he's always a fan of eating something tasty, and pizza, as he thinks, is a win-win for almost everyone. So it's pretty easy to guess what to make him happy. Although the young guitarist sometimes thought that Farmer behaves rather recklessly and weird, the same words were said about Sam when he stuffed 40 marshmallows into his mouth on a bet. A bit odd, but Sam doesn't care, because Farmer is a good friend and, heck yeah, free food!

They're everywhere: at Marnie's ranch, at the JojaMart, at the Saloon. Shane is already afraid to look over his own shoulder, because there, with 99.9 % accuracy, Farmer will be behind him. No matter how much the chicken lover snapped at Farmer, no matter how much he calling them names, they stood like a statue, handing him a plate of pepper poppers. This weirdo is literally stalking him, but no-one's paying attention! The hell?! Although the peppers are tasty and spicy enough, can't argue with that. Wow, what a fucking life...

Poor Harvey has been sitting up late at night looking at Farmer's medical records and he's already getting a headache from trying to find some logic. Farmer still keep going to dangerous places, keep getting seriously injured (4 emergencies in a month!), and their wounds just inhumanly heal in a couple of days! How does that even possib- Farmer? How did you get in here? The clinic's closed. Oh, wine? For him? Why, thank you, it's his favorite- !!!! They- they just teleported right in front of Harvey.... The doctor won't need a wineglass anymore, he's gonna drink right from the bottle.

Yes, Elliott must confess: after a couple of instances when the writer had not even got beyond the threshold of his cottage and he had already been handed a duck feather and a basket of pomegranates by the Farmer, one could find them very strange. But you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Maybe Farmer just has a hard time finding the words to communicate and this is how they express signs of friendship? And fishing... What's the big deal about fishing? The valley is rich in fish, so why be surprised that there are fish almost everywhere? Anyway, Elliott decides to judge people for their actions.

Alex should probably be concerned about Farmer's strange behaviour, but he... didn't care? Pelican Town was already full of people the athlete considered a bit odd, so why should he be surprised by the new Farmer's odd behaviour? They go everywhere, they fish everywhere, so what? It's their life. Though to Alex's recollection, regular farmers don't seem to fight monsters deep in the Mines, but then again, maybe that's their hobby. Plus Farmer give him his favourite salmon dinner all the time, so what's there to complain about?

Sebastian never seemed to have mentioned to anyone that he liked obsidian and frost tear so much. So he has no idea how the new farmer might know about it. Though, on the other hand, they're always carrying a bag of various cool gems from the mine and decided to give him something, so maybe a coincidence. Later there was a case where they stood right under the door of his room to hand him sashimi (also his favourite?) and ran off somewhere. Okay, that's pretty weird. There's sashimi, though.

[sporadicthingcollection]

The Unskinny Bop (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: You're a really good cook and that's most of the problem. The rest of it is that he's too weak-willed to resist a treat right in front of him. Pairing: Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: 🌶 Explicit 🌶 Word Count: ~6.1k Warnings: Body insecurity (male and female), cunnilingus, masturbation, PiV sex A/N: Dad Bod Buggy my beloved

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She's playing all night And the music's all right Mama's got a squeeze box And Daddy never sleeps at night

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It's his own damn fault, really.

He's the one who charmed the pretty diner cook — that’d be you — into joining his crew. It was an easy sell. You get off of the little podunk island you’re stuck on and he gets those delicious little puffy pastry things every morning.

What he didn’t expect was how well you made everything else. He's had to let his pants out three times in two months because of it.

Fluffy pancakes, perfectly slung hash, and a pie-looking thing with eggs and vegetables and cheese you called a “keesh” for breakfast. Sandwiches stuffed with veggies and meat, piles of pasta tossed in rich sauce, and thick slabs of juicy steak for dinner. Not to mention the mountains of snacks and treats in between.

He came to realize that food is a key aspect of your personality. It's just what you do. A dog chases its tail, Richie pushes things off of tables, and you flit around the deck like a pastry pixie, abducting people into the galley for taste-testing. 

Like right now.

His only warning that you're coming is a chirped “Captain!” before he's yanked through the door. He doesn't even have time to react before you've shoved a spoonful of something into his mouth.

He's not surprised. You do it to everyone who walks in. Food is how you show affection.

“Whaddya think?” you ask.

He swallows it too quickly to make a judgment, but it's sweet and that's all he needs to know. “Tasty.”

Every time you smile, he swears a flashbulb goes off somewhere. “Good,” you say. “It'll be even better tomorrow.”

He doesn't even bother to hide the whine. “What?”

“They're icebox pies, silly goose,” you say. “You gotta let ‘em chill.”

Another thing about you is that you're a tease. Form-fitting blouses done up just a button too short and your hair pulled back to show off your soft shoulders. A sweet little wink and a touch of the shoulder as you place a plate in front of him. And now feeding him something delicious only to tell him he has to wait until tomorrow to have more.

Your fingers snapping in front of his face jolt him back to the present. “Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted to lick the spoon,” you say.

Does he wanna lick the spoon? What kind of question is that? He plucks it from your hands. “Is the sky blue? Do bears shit in the woods? Am I the captain?”

You roll your eyes, but you smile. “Gonna stick these in the big cooler and I'll be right back for the other,” you say.

Carefully, you pick up two of the three foil-covered pie tins resting on the counter and turn on your heel.

He watches you closely as you round the corner and out of sight. Such a nice soft ass you've got. He desperately wants to grab it, but the one time you got goosed, you slugged the guy so hard he was out cold for the rest of the day.

Something pink, creamy, and flecked with seeds coats the wooden spoon. He drags his tongue along the back of it and--

Oh. Oh, that is good.

His taste buds scream in ecstasy. The slightest little moan escapes his lips. For the briefest of moments, he thinks it's better than sex and his cock twitches, but he regains his sense of self before going completely mad.

He licks and licks and licks until every little drop of pink, sweet, creamy filling is gone.

Frustration bubbles in his chest. Waiting all night for this is gonna suck. Especially since you probably won't be whipping it out for breakfast.

He is captain, though. He could order you to give it to him. But you'd almost certainly laugh in his face and he really, really doesn't want that.

The shimmer of foil catches his eye. The third pie sits on the counter. Untouched. Uneaten. Mocking him in its creamy deliciousness.

He looks around. You're nowhere to be seen.

...maybe just a little bit.

He scrapes barely half a spoonful from the top. Not enough to be noticeable, just enough to satisfy his sweet tooth.

Mmm. Smooth. Thick. Sweet. Fruity. Delicious.

...a little bit more can't hurt. Then he can wait until tomorrow.

He gets a piece of the fruit itself this time and the squirt of juice on his tongue is enough to make him spoon up another dollop. And then another. And then another.

This is why your pants are so tight, his inner monologue chides. This is why you need a new belt. This is why you wear that thing around your waist. Goddamn hedonist.

They're not that tight, he retorts. And they wouldn't be at all if you weren't such a damn good cook. It's all your fault for putting delicious food in front of him and looking so pretty while doing it.

He turns to lean against the counter, only to stop dead.

You're standing there, eyes wide and brows raised. You point at him, then at the pie tin, then back at him. “Are you... Eating the...?”

“No,” he says quickly. He realizes he's holding the pie tin. “No.”

Something odd glints in your eyes as you approach him. Gingerly, you take the pie and the spoon from his hands. He lets you. You step even closer.

You're so close to him, close enough for him to feel the rise and fall of your breasts. Hell, you're so short compared to him that he can see straight down your shirt.

His heart races. What are you going to do? Throw it out? Throw him out? Punch his lights out? Never speak of this again? 

To his amazement, you do none of those things. Instead, you spoon up a bit more of the pie filling and raise it to his lips. You blink up at him with big doe eyes.

He looks between you and the spoon a few times. This can't be right. You should be furious. He opens his mouth to say something, but it's forgotten as you shove the spoon in his mouth.

Why are strawberries so delicious? Why is he so weak? Why are your breasts so warm and squishy against him?

He swallows it and, as he opens his mouth to breath, you shove another spoonful in. It's just as good the twentieth time.

You offer him another. And another. And another. He accepts them all.

Until he goes to take another and you pull it away. He frowns at you. You pull it back farther and farther. He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand closer. You resist, but he's spent every day of his life trimming sails and hauling cargo.

He gets the spoon into his mouth and claims his prize with a smirk.

That glint in your eyes turns into a blaze. You drop the pie tin and spoon and they hit the floor with a clatter. Pulling your wrist from his grip, you grab him by the cheeks and yank him into a kiss.

He yelps against your lips and you take the opportunity to shove your tongue between them. Licking, lapping, pressing your soft, warm body right up against his.

Only a eunuch could resist this.

He kisses you back with the same fervor, grabbing your ass to lift you up a bit and it's so soft and pliant and perfect that he can't help but dig his fingers in.

Oh, it's everything he dreamed it would be. Your warm lips moving against his, your slick tongue dancing in his mouth, your soft palms gripping his jaw.

You've lapped up all the lingering sweetness in his mouth by the time he runs out of breath. He pushes you away and you whimper, your eyes wide and your shoulders heaving up and down.

Deprived of oxygen, he says something completely, absolutely, utterly brain dead. “Can I touch your tits?”

Instead of slapping him, you nod so hard your updo shakes loose. Curly strands fall in your face.

He blinks. “Wait, really?” You nod harder. “You sure?”

Something in you snaps. He can see it in your eyes. You grab him by the hand and damn near drag him out the door.

A quick trip up the stairs and across the main deck and he's pushing open the door to his quarters. You bustle past him and, once the click of the lock sounds, you grab him by the collar and yank him into another kiss, just as wet and desperate as the last.

He barely has enough time to shuck his coat about you throw him onto the bed, clambering atop him. You're a bit heavier than he expects. Not that he says that to your face, but you’re so light on your feet that he was starting to think you were filled with cotton candy. You're certainly sweet enough.

You yank his hat from his head and toss it aside. His bandana follows and his hair falls around his shoulders.

You suck in a breath. “So pretty.”

He shrugs. “Thanks-- mmph.”

He’s silenced by you standing on your knees to pull his hair out of its pigtails. This requires you to stick your tits in his face and oh my god they're like big marshmallows you smell like cinnamon.

He can't help himself. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in closer, breathing deeply. So warm, so soft.

You giggle and the vibration makes his face tingle. You pull away to fiddle with your blouse buttons. “Wanna know a secret?” you whisper.

“Is the secret boobs?” Wow, what the hell was that? He needs to stop talking.

Lucky for him, you grin. You open your blouse and a whole lot more than he was expecting spills out. You toss the blouse to the side and plant your hands on your hips. “Va-va-voom.”

He's speechless. Shaken. Struck utterly dumb by the sight before him. All he can do is pull off his gloves and take them in his hands, pushing them, weighing them, squeezing them. There’s just… so much. Round, squishy, bouncy, threatening to surge right out of your lacy bra.

“I am but one man,” he mumbles.

That makes you giggle and that makes them jiggle. Like two sacks of...like a pair of...

...he can't think of a metaphor that isn't unpleasant, so he just sticks his face in there again before something else stupid comes out of his mouth. You laugh even more and it vibrates against his cheeks and his -- that... -- and if God struck him down at this very second he would die a happy man.

You let him linger a moment before throwing your weight forward to push him onto the bed. He whimpers like a kicked puppy as you pull away.

You nibble your lip and knit your brow up as you fumble with his belt. “I showed you mine, now you show me yours.”

He's flattered, but it's the only thing keeping his stomach in check. That can't come off yet.

He takes your hands in his own. “What's the rush, beautiful?” he says. He brings them to his lips, first one, then the other. He gently kisses your knuckles, your palms, your wrists. “This is your show. We got all night.”

You're cute when you huff. You're even cuter when your face screws up into a pout. You yank your hands away and plant them on your soft hips. “Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this?” you whine.

That throws him for a loop and a half. You've wanted him too? Someone as clever and cute and talented as you wanted... him? He's not used to that. Not used to that at all.

He's stunned just long enough for you to get his belt open. You move on to his vest straps next, making quick work of those. He sucks his stomach in just as you pull it open.

Your eyes widen, and you break into a grin as they sweep up and down his torso. “Oh, hell-o,” you say, voice breathless.

He's bright red, he just knows it. “Hi,” he replies dumbly. He hopes the strain in his voice isn't too obvious.

You grin even wider. Your fingers ghost up his sides -- thank God it's his feet that are ticklish -- right up to his pecs. You give them a squeeze, not unlike how he palmed your breasts a few moments ago. The slightest of squeaks escapes him.

“I knew you were hiding something good,” you say. You give his nipples a tweak -- he squeaks louder -- and trail your fingers down to his waistband. “Let's see what else you've been keeping from me.”

He knows you're talking about his dick. He panics all the same.

He shoots a hand out to kill the light -- that should buy him some time -- and throws his weight into flipping you over. You squeal as he pins you to the bed and yanks your pants off.

And then he realizes. Your breasts? They're proportional.

Beneath him is the most lovely expanse of body he's ever seen. Soft and warm and squishy and made of convex curves that flow from gentle arms and smooth shoulders right into a pair of plump hips and shapely thighs.

He can't form words. He can't form thoughts. All he can do is stare with his mouth dropped open. What else can you do when you're in the presence of the divine?

And then he sees your face. Your eyes wide and unsure as they dart around the room. Your lips pressed together into a terse line. 

“What?” he asks.

The line scrunches to the side. “I'm bigger than I ought to be, I know,” you say. You sound as if you've said it a thousand times.

He gets mad. He can't help it. It's what he does. “Are you shitting me?”

You flinch a little, though more out of surprise than fear. “N-No, I don't--”

He wants to say so many things. About how this is perfection. About how you are the most gorgeous human being he's ever laid eyes on. About how this is everything he's ever wanted in life. How you're everything and you shouldn't be so damn sheepish.

But he can't get it out. All that comes out is a raspy, rude, “Shut the fuck up.”

You stare at him in shock. And not the fun shock. It's the kind where you're not sure if you've stepped on eggshells or not.

Fuck it. No time for words. He grabs your thighs and pulls you forward, yanking your panties off and sweet holy shit you don't shave down there how could you possibly be any more perfect?

His mouth waters. His cock throbs. He dives in. He drags his tongue up your inner thighs, soft and smooth and sweet as that pie.

“Captain--!” A nip to the tender flesh turns the exclamation into a squeak.

“I said shut up,” he says between kisses.

Finally, you stop talking. You only pant and moan as he shoves his face into your pussy, lapping at your already sopping cunt. Did he do this? Are you this wet because of him?

He can't help it. He stuffs his hand down the front of his pants to fondle himself. Like the desperate bastard he is, his cock’s hard and leaking already.

He grinds against his palm as he gorges himself on you. Licking, sucking, swirling, punctuating with a few nips for good measure. It's all harmonized by the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard flowing from your lips, high-pitched and whiny.

He's not sure how long has passed when you grab his head and push him away. Time flows strangely between your thighs.

You've got a crazed look in your eyes again. “I want you inside me.”

He wants to say something clever, something cool and on brand for him, like it's not time for the finale yet or but my leading lady isn't satisfied.

But that would delay being inside you and he's too addled to think of anything. He jumps to his feet and wriggles out of his trousers and shorts. If he were more aware of himself, he'd be humiliated by just how much he has to shimmy and dance around to get them off his hips, but there's not enough blood in his brain to be self-conscious.

He kicks them away in whatever direction. Something crashes to the floor and he doesn't care. He looks back to your beautiful face--

You're wide-eyed as you look at him. He follows your gaze, right down to his--

In all the excitement, he's not sucking it in anymore.

Now it's his turn to be sheepish. He sucks it in again. But he can't hold it. Too much blood in his cock. He tries again with the same result.

Unfortunately for him, it's drawn your attention even more. Off comes your bra, and you don't take your eyes off his stomach the whole time.

Now he really can't think anymore. They're just so pretty and perfect. You're so pretty and perfect. He doesn't deserve this. This is a hell of a mismatch if ever there was one. You, divinity in the flesh. Him, a fat, dirty old clown.

This is a joke. It has to be. Someone put you up to this and now you're gonna back out and he's gonna let you because you deserve better so he better just rip the bandage off now and--

“Out,” he spits. “Get out.”

You blink at him in shock, then your face hardens. You speak with the firmness of a queen who's sick of her courtiers’ bullshit. “Get over here and get on top of me.”

You're mocking him. You gotta be. There’s no other explanation. “I said--”

You look him in the eyes. Something dangerous glitters there. “Buggy, get the fuck on top of me.”

It comes out at a hoarse yell. “Stop mocking me!”

You spring upwards and, with that wild strength that surprises him every time, you throw him on the bed. It squeaks as he bounces -- actually, that might have come from him.

You've got a look on your face he can only describe as murderous. “I did not wait two months for you to chicken out,” you say. You clamber onto him. “I did not wait two fucking months for you to finally man up and say something only for you to get self-conscious!”

Fear, anger, and arousal battle for control of his body. Arousal wins. You are hot as a griddle when you're mad.

You sit yourself on his belly, just above his cock. It twitches against your ass and he's sure it's made of clouds and he groans.

“Look at me,” you say.

He doesn't. He can't. He doesn't want to see the scorn that's surely in your eyes.

You learn forward and grab his chin, squeezing his cheeks and forcing him to look. Even in the dim light, he can see the sheen of sweat on your face and the rise and fall of your chest as you pant.

“If you want me to leave, I will,” you say, “but you will never get this chance again.”

No. No no no no. He wants you. He wants you so bad. He's never had perfection this close and it's never wanted him as much as you seem to.

“Do you want me to leave?” you ask firmly.

He shakes his head so hard it hurts.

You don't grin. You simply release his chin and lift yourself up. You lower yourself on his cock and, as he watches it disappear, inch by slick inch into your hot, wet pussy, the battle is over.

He doesn't care if this is a trick anymore. He's going to get his.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you down onto him, fingers sinking into the smooth flesh. You gasp as he bottoms out, gripping the swell of his hips. He doesn't care. They're called love handles for a reason.

And then you start to bounce.

It starts in your legs. Pumping your thighs to lift yourself up and drop down onto his cock. The jolt ripples through your whole body, from your thighs to your belly to your breasts.

He's transfixed. So transfixed that he doesn't even notice you grabbing his pecs, squishing and squashing them between your gentle fingers. You tweak his nipples and he damn near howls.

He can't let you have all the fun. He pops his hand off to swirl his fingers around your clit.

But you don't cry out or moan. You start babbling. Something about eating and how hot he is and how much you love that he loves your cooking and it's all interspersed with pleasant-sounding gibberish. But he doesn't hear a word of it. You're too warm and slick and it goes in one ear and it the other.

But the sounds. God, the sounds of him sliding in and out of you. Wet and disgusting and it makes his mouth water and his cock leak and that just makes it wetter--

The slap of skin on skin and wet on wet and his moans and your chattering all mingle into a delicious symphony. 

But it stops all too soon. Your breath hitches and you bend at the waist, singing his name like a songbird, the same little melody over and over. “Buggy, Buggy, Buggy...!”

His name dissolves into little yips and gasps as your cunt flutters around his cock. It's so good. Better than treasure. Better than adrenaline. Better than a full belly after a hard day's work--

He realizes he's not wearing a condom. Fuck. “Where ya want it?” he grunts.

You don't hesitate. “In me,” you say between gasps.

In you? Inside you? Spilling his hot, wet cum into your hot, wet cunt? Your cunt? Soaking it? Seeding it? Making it even messier and sloppier and filling you up so much that--

He almost pops right then and there, but he bites his lip. “Nuh-uh. Where?”

“In me!” you spit.

He whines the most unmanly of whines. He will. He won't. He wants to. He can't. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Captain,” you whimper, “Buggy, please...”

He looks up at you. Your hands on his chest, your breasts heaving with each breath, your little belly rising and falling, your luscious thighs on either side of his hips, your lips dropped open as you pant, your bush surrounding his fingers--

God damn it.

He throws you to the side as he pops like a champagne cork. A few drops end up on you, but most of it splatters onto the underside of his belly, where it's started obeying gravity.

One hand grips the sheets and the other grips something warm and his hips buck and his head swims and his mouth makes utterly pathetic noises. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.

He crashes back to earth like a meteor strike. All he can see is white as he flops back onto the mattress, gasping for breath.

He has no idea how long it takes for him to recover. But something soft tickles the knuckles of his detached hand. A shudder racks him as he turns his head towards you.

Post-orgasm haze still clouds your eyes, but they're big and round as a doe’s as you cradle his hand close to his face. You press your lips to his knuckles.

He gives a weak smile. “Hi.”

You giggle. God, he loves that giggle. He wishes he could hear it every day. He'd put it in a sea shell if he could, carry it around in his pocket and press it to his ear whenever he feels lonely. Or spin it into cotton candy. It's certainly light and sweet enough. Or whip it up onto a foam and fold it into batter like he watched you do that one time for cake...

His stomach growls. He needs to stop thinking about food.

You kiss his knuckles again, still smiling so very sweetly. “Are you alright?”

“Fuckin’ amazing,” he mumbles. It's the truth.

Detaching his other hand, he feels around on the floor. There's a towel here somewhere... Unless he threw it on the chair... Or over the folding screen...

He finds it slung over the door of his wardrobe. He offers it to you, but you shake your head. “After you.”

Suit yourself. He mops his belly up as you watch. Shit, this was a big one.

Satisfied, he tosses the towel away. He rolls over to take you in his arms, but he finds nothing. You're standing up, pulling his coat on and closing it around your front.

“Get over here,” he says. “That's an order.”

“I gotta clean up,” you say.

He panics. He can't help it. His voice quivers like a child's. “Don’t leave. Please.”

You give him a kind look that almost makes him cry. “I’ll be right back,” you coo. “I promise.”

He doesn't want to be alone. Not now. Tears prick at his eyes and his lip quivers. But you're out the door before he can stop you.

You're not coming back. He knows it. He disappointed you. How could he not? You're beautiful. You're divine. You're perfect.

And what is he? A fat old clown.

He lays there, shivering in the cold air, too afraid to move. Too aware of his shortcomings. Too aware of every flaw, every defect, every deficiency. His temper. His teeth. His nose. His appetite. His everything.

The door opens. The moonlight frames your silhouette for a moment before you close the door behind you.

He nearly sobs with relief. You don't notice, thankfully, as you shuck his coat.

He launches his arms at you as he sits upright, pulling you into an embrace as he falls back down. He lays you to the side, slipping under your arm and tucking his head in the crook between your chin and chest.

You thread your fingers through his hair. “Don't tell me you thought I wasn't coming back.”

He murmurs something he forgets as soon as it leaves his lips. You're so soft. So warm. So comfortable. And he's so exhausted.

You giggle. You kiss his forehead and slide your fingers through his hair. “Bonwee, sha.”

He has no idea what that means, but you say it with such warmth that it must be something good. He snuggles up close to you.

Rocked by the sea and calmed by your heartbeat, he drifts off.

---

He sleeps well, but he stirs a few times.

The first is when you shift out from under him, mumbling something in a language he can't place. You roll onto your side, your back to him. He doesn't like that at all and pulls you in to be the little spoon. You squeak. It's cute. He doesn't care that his belly presses against your back. 

He stirs again when his arm falls asleep and he rolls onto his side. You follow him this time. You press yourself right up against his back, breasts and belly and thighs squishing against him. You're so warm.

The final time is as the gray light of dawn slips through the windows. He's shaken from a dream and he grumbles.

“I gotta go get started on breakfast,” you whisper. “Just wanted to let you know I wasn't lovin’ and leavin’.”

That's so sweet of you. “You're so sweet,” he mumbles sweetly.

You giggle. “See you in a few hours.”

You kiss the tip of his nose and he's not even upset.

===

You had a lovely night, but you're walking a bit funny and it's making your usual bustling around the galley just difficult enough to be annoying. And the visions of your stark naked captain filling your head are making it even harder.

You're a very simple woman, like your mother before you. You like men. You like food. You like men who like food. You especially like men who like your food.

Captain Buggy's a man. Captain Buggy likes food. And he loves your food, if his constant hovering in the galley is anything to go on. And he loves it a lot and it's showing.

The memory of him lying beneath you, his warm hips against your thighs, his belly wobbling as you bounce atop him, his head thrown back in bliss, surprises you just as you're tossing a flapjack. It slams into the ceiling and stays there.

Your fellow cook, a swarthy fellow going by Bloomer, casts the new ceiling decor an odd look. He turns it on you. “You alright, girl?”

You know what? Screw this. Everyone else can handle breakfast. “I'm gonna go wake up the captain,” you say. “How's he like his coffee?”

Milk and two cubes of sugar, he tells you. You put in cream and three cubes. Man's gotta get his strength back from last night, you tell yourself as you set off across the deck. 

You knock three times on the door. No answer. You knock harder. Still nothing. You take that as a sign he may be dead and enter just in case.

Captain Buggy is, in fact, quite alive, if not also naked. He's in front of the mirror... or his face is, anyways. His body is turned completely around as he examines the reflection of his rear. He grabs a handful, thick fingers sinking into the squish. He gives it a jiggle and it wobbles.

You don't blame him. It's a great ass. Perfect for grabbing and digging your nails into. Next time, you're making him get on top so you can do just that. 

But you prefer his front. That's where all the good shit is. Soft, muscular pecs, perfect for grabbing and groping, covered in a dusting of hair that trails down to his soft belly.

His hands go there next, pinching his sides. He gives them a shake and his belly bounces. 

That little zing shoots up your gut and into your throat, that one you always get around men like him. That same one as when you first saw him from across the diner, draining a pitcher of beer. The same one you had last night when you walked in on him eating pie filling. And now, watching him preening after a wild romp.

...or you thought he was preening. He turns his body around and as his hands go to his face -- he's got a stronger jawline than you'd expected when he's barefaced -- you notice his laugh lines deepen. He lets out a grunt of disgust as his lips curl.

You frown. He's saying ugh as if you couldn't keep your hands off of him last night. Coaxing him in closer with pie filling just so you could feel his body molding against yours. Grabbing his cheeks and yanking him in for a kiss you'd been craving for months. Dragging him to his cabin and fucking yourself on him while you dug your nails into whatever soft flesh you could grab.

You close the door with a firm check of the hips. The slam startles him, but he calms as he sees you. Somewhat. There's still an uneasy look in his eye.

“G’morning,” he says. A little blush blooms across his cheeks. He avoids eye contact.

He'd be cute if he wasn't pathetic. You set the coffee down on the nearest surface and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your hands on the swell just above his hips and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades.

“Thank you for finally taking the hint,” you say into his skin.

He chuckles, a low, vibrating thrum. “I never miss a cue, baby.”

Lies. You've been trying everything. Flirting. Making his favorite food. You even went braless one day on a supply run with him and he didn't even blink. Idiot.

“Then why'd it take you so damn long?”

He scoffs. “Had to make sure I wasn't seeing things,” he mumbles.

He's so pathetic. Like a wet cat. You can't help but squeeze his sides--

He jumps away from you like you gave him an electric shock. “Stop it!” he spits.

You blink. “Stop what?”

“Stop-- Stop mocking me!”

You blink a few more times. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The flush deepens along with his scowl. “Quit touching me like that.”

Not what he was saying last night. “Like what?”

“Stop grabbing my--” He huffs. “I know I’m fat. Quit rubbing it in.”

Pardon? Did you hear that correctly? Does he know who he's talking to? You try to keep your tone even, but you were never good at that. “Permission to speak freely, Captain?”

He blanches. “...No.”

Too bad. You grab him by the waist and throw him onto the bed. He yelps as he bounces, then once again as you straddle his waist.

“Buggy. Darling. Cher,” you say. “Do you really think I would have fucked you if I didn't think you were hot shit?”

He simmers like a boiling pot with the lid still on. “Maybe!”

Pour l’amour de Dieu, c’est un contraieuse et un tête de cabri et pourquoi ce clown so fucking stupid?

You scoot backwards, kissing your way down his chest. Each one gets a tiny grunt from him until you get to his belly. He growls and tries to roll away, but you hold fast. You gently kiss just above his navel, then the tuft of blue hair right below it.

You peer up at him. He peers back, brow knit up, questioning you.

You press your face into his navel and blow a raspberry against his skin.

Buggy squeal-laughs. You've never heard him make that noise before and it's very cute. You do it again and he devolves into laughter.

“Sto-o-op!” he cackles.

You do not. You do it again and again until he's wheezing and not scowling any more. You stare up at him, fingering the tuft of hair below his navel.

He comes down slowly, cackles turning to giggles to breathless gasps. He finally sees you staring. “What?”

“Feeling better?” you ask. He huffs, but he does nod. “Good. Now stop being mean to my favorite captain.”

He frowns a bit at that. “Who’s that? Alvida? When'd she come up?” You keep staring at him. He blinks. “Wait, you mean--?”

Gros couillion. “No, the other guy I fucked last night,” you say. He bristles. Fuck’s sake. “Yes, you!”

He blinks again. The flush returns. “You mean that?”

“I wouldn't be on top of your naked-ass body if I didn't.” You place lean in close, the tip of your nose bumping his. “And you have a very nice body, Captain.”

Just for emphasis, you grab his side, right at the fleshiest part, and give a hard squeeze. He jumps, but nods.

He tries to dive in for a kiss, but you pull away. If you do that, you'll be here all morning. You stand up, offering him your hands. “C’mon, breakfast is ready,” you say.

“I'm not hungry.” His stomach growls. He glares at it. “Shut up.”

Trump card time. “Guess I'll just have to feed all those beignets to Richie, then.”

His eyes go wide. “...you made bin-yays?”

He still can't pronounce it right, but he's getting there. “Sure did,” you say coolly. You examine your nails. “Won't be good for much longer.”

His stomach growls again. “And that pie?” 

“Should be good to go, but you better be quick. They'll go fast.”

He jumps to his feet and licks his lips. “Well, keep some for me! Lemme-- Lemme get dressed and I'll be right down.”

“Don't take too long,” you say.

You turn to leave, but he grabs your hand. With a yank and a twirl, he pulls you flush against him and into a kiss.

You melt right into it. Rough lips move against yours, his warm body molds against you, strong arms holding you tight, belly pressing against yours... his nose squishing into your cheek. Wonderful, all of it.

You separate with a pop. He grins at you and wipes his wrist along his lips. “Didn’t think I was gonna let you leave without that?”

You blush. Now he decides to be slick. “Just get dressed.”

You twirl him around and, with a flat hand, you swat his ass. Just to see it quiver. The slap echoes in the small room and he jumps, but you can't stick around to see the look on his face.

You've got work to do.

---

Special thanks to my bf, Meg, and Ollie for beta-ing!

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[wholoveseggs]

Heyyy gorgeous, another day another request! i was thinking about CEO human reader, she’s super rich, classy and very powerful woman. She also happens to be maybe a friend of Camille? And she catches Elijahs attention. They will meet on galas, auctions, operas etc. And he’s fascinated with her because of how composed and educated she is, they share hobbies, fashion style and so on. Aaaand one day he will pay her a visit in her office and it leads to some very smutty office sex… pretty please 🥹

Paperwork

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You approach a handsome philanthropist at a charity gala, leading to a stress-relieving meeting high above the city lights.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @msveronicag I loveeee this idea (sorry I forgot to include Cami) ♡♡

5k words - Warnings: smut, slight dom!elijah, lots of banter, little bit of choking, public(ish) sex, Elijah being the relaxed one, a whole bunch of silly business jargon...

It was a part of your job to attend these stupid functions. It didn't feel like a party, a place to unwind, it felt more like a battle ground. Where the weapons were not guns, but witty retorts and carefully calculated smiles. It was all a show.

You hated it.

But the alcohol was good, food was usually tasty, and sometimes you got lucky. Because sometimes, you meet an actual interesting person. They were few and far between, but they were there.

This gala was being held at some museum or another. You couldn't quite remember, you had only been given the information a few hours before you had to be there, and hadn't bothered reading the pamphlet. Its Grecian architecture was impressive, if not a little pretentious.

You leaned against one of the pillars leading out onto a balcony, it was an impossibly warm Louisiana evening, and the breeze was welcome. You were grateful you chose your light silk dress for the occasion, rather than the heavy, floor length gown one of your assistants had chosen for you.

You observed a man standing a short distance away, looking up at a large painting hanging high on the wall. You couldn't quite see his face, but the suit he was wearing looked expensive. You were a little bored, and he at least looked a little interesting.

You walked up behind him, careful not to step too heavily in your heels.

"I don't care much for this style, myself." You said, not looking up at the painting.

He turned his head to look at you. "Is that so?"

He was handsome, almost startlingly so. The way the light hit him made his jaw appear sharper than it likely was. His lips were full and his hair perfectly styled, not a single strand out of place. But what really drew you in were his eyes, dark brown and intense, framed by long lashes.

You smirked. "It's a bit..." You glanced up at the painting, trying to find the right word. "Stiff."

He turned to face you, his eyes wandering up and down your body, before landing on your face again. He gave you a crooked smile that made your palms sweat, oh he wasn't just handsome, he was gorgeous.

"Stiff? I don't know, I think the artist did a very good job at conveying the... passion." He said.

"Where? In the brush strokes?" You said, taking a sip of your drink.

"No." He said, and his eyes moved away from yours and towards the couple on the painting. "There."

You turned your head and looked. A nude woman, her skin pale and hair blonde, laid on her back on a bed, the red covers thrown away and onto the floor. The man, his face hidden, stood at the edge of the bed, his hands moving to grip her thighs, as though he were about to climb on top of her.

You raised your eyebrows.

"You find that passionate?" You asked, looking back at him.

He shrugged. "I do. I think he was quite enamored with her, judging by the detail put into the painting."

"She looks like she's trying to take a nap and this creep won't leave her alone." You said, and he chuckled.

"Thus, the magic of art, my dear. What is interpreted depends on the person."

"Do you often interpret napping women as passionate?" You asked, and his smile widened.

"No, I prefer passion in the form of a willing, enthusiastic partner."

You took a sip of your drink. "And how do you go about finding one of those?"

He gave you a slow smile and reached out his hand, offering it to you. "Elijah, it's a pleasure."

"Y/n." You said, putting your hand in his and shaking it, firmly.

He kept your hand in his, bringing it to his lips, a move you would usually cringe at, but with him it seemed natural. He didn't seem like the usual crowd you had to deal with at these events. His voice, his posture, everything about him was elegant and his flirting was ridiculously smooth.

"Now that we're acquainted, what say you and I go find a little passion for ourselves?" He asked, lowering his voice to a whisper.

Your eyes widened slightly, and you laughed, pulling your hand away from his.

"A little eager, are we?" You asked, giving him a playful smirk.

"I just wanted to dance with you, why? Were you thinking of something else?" He gave you a knowing smile, and it made you laugh again.

"You're charming." You said.

"And you are beautiful." He said, extending his hand to you.

He was an excellent dancer, leading you expertly across the floor, even with the quick tempo of the song, he never faltered, not once. You didn't know how, but he could anticipate your next step, as though the two of you had rehearsed this for weeks.

"I like your dress, what brand is it? Prada?" He asked, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"Yes, how did you know?" You asked, surprised.

"I own a few vintage pieces, I'm partial to the fall 2012 line." He said, his hands on your hips, holding you close.

"Really?" You asked. "The menswear one? It was villain themed, wasn't it?"

He nodded. "You have a love for fashion, I assume?"

"It can be a great investment if you pick the right pieces. The classics are usually the safest bet."

"Oh, I agree." He said.

You smiled. "So what do you do, Elijah?"

"I'm a philanthropist," He said. "I support local artists and historical projects and such. How about you?"

"I own a commercial real estate company. It's equally boring and stressful." You said. "What I do most of the day is paperwork."

He laughed, a delightful sound, and moved one hand from your hip, to the center of your back.

"Not fond of it?" He asked.

"No, quite the opposite, actually. If I could just get rid of the meetings I'd be thrilled."

He chuckled and spun you once. "You wouldn't be the first person to say that."

"What about you Mr. Philanthropy, how do you spend your days?" You asked, falling right back in step with the music, his movements as smooth as ever.

"Oh, you know," He said, his lips hovering by your cheek. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you,"

You leaned back a little, turning your head to give him a cheeky grin.

"Oh so it's family money then, is it?" You asked, and he hummed, his eyes narrowing playfully at you.

"Something like that. Enough to afford the finer things," He said, spinning you once, your dress billowing out around you like a waterfall.

He dipped you, his grip on your waist tight, as the song came to an end. You were breathing hard as you stood up straight again, letting go of his hand.

"Thank you for the dance, Mr. Mikaelson," You said, giving him a quick bow. "It's been a pleasure,"

"May I call on you sometime?" He asked, his hand still holding yours. "For a dance that is, and perhaps dinner afterwards?"

You looked at him, considering him for a moment, before smiling.

"Perhaps, Mr. Mikaelson, perhaps."

It had been a hellish week. A buyer had fallen through on the deal, costing you a lot of money. After the announcement, several of your employees began asking questions. About profit margins, about future strategies, about the acquisition of cheaper offices and rentals. It was difficult to concentrate, what with their constant stream of questions and their low murmuring at their desks as they talked about the whole ordeal.

Your company was also in the middle of a bidding war, trying to win a lucrative contract with the city to build several apartment complexes downtown. And on top of that, you had missed a shareholder's meeting because of a flight delay, pissing off several of them and creating several more holes in the schedule.

You were up to your neck in work, stressing out about everything.

Your phone buzzed and you sighed. Elijah. He has been texting you consistently ever since the gala, inviting you for lunch, or dinner, sometimes drinks at his place, hell, even just a walk in the park. He was polite, a true gentleman, but also seemed completely unaware of the fact that you didn't really have time for this stuff.

But it wasn't like you didn't want to see him, you did. You hadn't been able to get him out of your head since the gala. He was certainly an interesting person, a quick wit, and good taste to boot, but you didn't think it was a good idea. Your relationships tended to fall apart fairly quickly, most men you dated became intimidated by your success, or found the power dynamic to be a point of contention for them. Either way, it usually wasn't fun.

But god, his lips...

And his smile, you could see the mischief behind it, it made your stomach flutter just thinking about it. The way his eyes lit up when he laughed. It was intoxicating, you just couldn't...

You opened the text.

Free for dinner tonight?

You rubbed your temple, sighing.

Sorry, can't. Too much work. :)

You put the phone aside, only to have it buzz again.

I'm really good at paperwork, some say the best. Could lend a hand,

You snorted. Oh you could totally picture him helping you, leaning over you while you sat at your desk, both of you staring down at the documents, his breath on your neck, his knee touching yours underneath the wood...

God, your hands were sweating. It was almost embarrassing.

I appreciate that, but I have it handled. Just a rough week,

Another buzz.

Surely you've earned a break? I won't keep you for long, just dinner.

You groaned and slid down your chair, feeling your face burn up just thinking about being in a restaurant with him. You knew it wouldn't be a short date, he was entirely too distracting. No, anything he wanted you to do would surely eat up multiple hours, and you didn't have that kind of time right now.

Next time, You texted, then grabbed your sticky notes, writing:

'Please let this guy dick you down,'

And sticking it on top of your to-do pile.

You read the text over and sighed. Dinner with him sounded like absolute bliss right now, it was almost painful how appealing it was. But you couldn't.

You turned back to your work, letting yourself fall back into the sea of paperwork.

Hours passed and you were still stuck at the office. Dark had descended a while ago, and the lights of the city loomed brightly behind your window. You stretched in your chair and sighed, rubbing your neck.

Your phone buzzed again and you reluctantly lifted it up, watching a notification for another text come in.

Dinner at 730 it is, I'll pick you up.

You froze, suddenly confused. Did you agree to something? It couldn't be.

You dialed his number and held the phone up to your ear, sitting back in your chair.

"I don't recall saying yes to dinner," You said as soon as the phone connected.

He laughed. It was a glorious sound. You felt lightheaded just hearing it.

"Alright, you're busy, I understand, how about I come to you?"

You heard keys in the background, he was definitely leaving. Shit.

"Elijah, no, I don't... I can't," You said, scrambling around your office, trying to make it look less... destroyed. You shoved a pile of papers under the desk, along with a few cups and an empty wine bottle.

"I'm bringing take-out and coffee. You sound like you could use the caffeine," He said, completely ignoring you.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, dropping back into your chair.

"I don't want you to get bored," You said, weakly.

He laughed.

"Don't worry about me, darling, I have a secret."

You blinked. "Oh? What's that?"

You could hear him getting into a car in the background, then the deep rumbling of an engine as it revved to life.

"Being with you could never bore me. Tell me your address,"

You smiled. "I'll text it to you,"

He hung up and you sunk deeper into your chair, a goofy grin plastered on your face.

You spent the next twenty minutes trying to make your office presentable, mostly just moving papers off the floor and out of sight.

When he knocked on the door, you paused for a moment, before opening it. He was wearing a button up shirt and black slacks, both looking sinfully expensive and sinfully good on him.

The take-out smelled amazing, as did he.

"Your security needs updating, at the very least you should have a keypad." He said as he handed you your meal.

"Thank you," You said, ushering him inside. "I sent everyone home for the day, no need for them to stay late because of me,"

You put the food on a small table and sat down next to him on your sofa in the corner of your office, letting out a long sigh you didn't know you were keeping inside.

"That bad, hm?" He asked.

You looked at him and immediately regretted it, he was so distractingly gorgeous. His face, his lips, fuck his eyes, they had those crinkles in the corners, and that hint of mischief, his perfect jawline, everything about him set you on fire.

You shook your head and smiled. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Thank you, by the way, I haven't had time to eat all day."

"Next time I'll take you out somewhere more pleasant than this," He said, gesturing around to the cluttered office.

Your phone rang on your desk and you got up and scrambled over to answer it, Elijah giving you a confused look.

"Yes? O-oh..." You paused, standing up and pacing around, heading towards the window, looking down at the dark city.

"How long ago?"

Elijah was listening, his eyes fixed on you, the tone of your voice, the way you held yourself. You seemed calm, but the subtle signs were all there. You were upset, no, not upset, frustrated.

"Uh-huh, yes, no, thank you,"

He wandered over to your desk, to the many papers that covered it, some were marked with red, some with black, most of them had scribbles in the margins.

"Well, what is the point of a zoning committee if they can't do their job?" You asked, your voice smooth as silk, he enjoyed hearing you speak, the slight inflections in your tone.

A yellow sticky note caught his eye and he picked it up, smiling at what it said. 

‘Please let this guy dick you down.’

He chucked and held the note up to you, raising an eyebrow.

You froze and your eyes widened, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks. You cleared your throat and tried to compose yourself, but were unable to meet his gaze.

"I'll see what I can do." You muttered, feeling utterly mortified that he found your stupid note.

Elijah stood, tucking the note into his pocket and walking towards you. His hands pressing into the glass on either side of you, trapping you.

You gulped, looking up at him, completely forgetting about the person on the phone.

"I.. I'll have that information when the exchange opens in the morning,"

He leaned forward, his lips hovering by your cheek.

"Yes, I understand," You said, your voice shaking.

Elijah grinned, his hands coming down to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him. You could feel him, all of him, his warmth, the hardness in his pants.

"Okay, I'll, uh, talk to you later, yes, thank you."

You ended the call and let out a long sigh, looking up at him. He took the phone from your hand and threw it over his shoulder, not even bothering to look and see where it landed.

"I'm going to give you some unsolicited advice," He whispered, his hands gripping your waist tightly. "So take it for what it's worth,"

You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to say something.

"Take a break." He said, taking your hand and giving it a light squeeze, "Let me take care of you tonight, then get back to work in the morning, tomorrow. You're burnt out, you're going to make a mistake and you won't even notice."

"Your concern is noted, but unfortunately..."

"When was the last time you slept?" He asked, cutting you off. "Properly, I mean, when was the last time you were properly rested?"

"If you're about to offer up sleeping with you as a cure, Mr. Mikaelson, I assure you, it wouldn't do any good." You said.

"What makes you think I'm offering anything, other than a little relaxation?" He asked, a grin spreading across his face.

"Well, we're already pressed up against each other, and judging by the hardness I feel against my leg, you're not exactly unaffected." You said, your hand running over his chest, his skin hot under the fabric.

"I think it would do you some good, a rush of endorphins, a change of pace, it could relieve some of this tension you're carrying around," He countered.

You felt your mouth dry up at his words. A whole slew of salacious fantasies flooded into your mind as soon as they left his mouth, and you struggled to think of a snarky response.

"It's been a while for you, hasn't it?" He said, reaching down to the hem of your dress, pushing the fabric up your thighs, his fingers brushing over the skin.

You bit your lip, his eyes were glued to yours, watching every tiny reaction with great interest.

"How long?" He asked, his lips ghosting over yours.

"A gentleman doesn't ask." You whispered, a smile forming on your lips.

"I never said I was a gentleman," He whispered, his hands coming down, hooking underneath your thighs and lifting you up and pressing you against the window.

Your legs wrapped around him automatically, your arms going around his shoulders, pulling him close.

He kissed you and you melted, the warmth of his mouth and the heat of his skin was so comforting, it felt so good. You wanted to get lost in him, feel him all over, touch him, kiss him.

"See? That wasn't so hard was it?" He teased, his teeth grazing your bottom lip.

Your phone began to ring again, and you pushed on his chest, trying to move away from him. He let you go, letting your thighs slip down his body until your feet hit the floor, the phone still ringing.

"I should..."

He grabbed your hips and spun you around, pressing you into the window, his chest against your back.

"You are in a very important meeting right now and cannot come to the phone," He said softly, his hand sliding up your inner thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress up and exposing you.

You moaned as he spread your legs with his knee as he pulled your dress up over your head, the phone finally stopped ringing.

"There, now we can be undisturbed," He said, his lips on your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. His hands kneading your breasts, tugging at your nipples through the fabric of your bra.

Your breathing was heavy and fast, the cool glass against your skin a stark contrast to his burning skin.

You arched back against him and let out a strangled moan, his hands trailing down your body and his fingers slipping beneath your underwear.

You looked down to the streets below, the street lamps flickering and the headlights whizzing past as you gave yourself over to the pleasure of his touch.

He kissed your neck as he slid his fingers into you. You inhaled sharply at the sensation, his fingers curling and stroking over that perfect spot inside you. Your hand pressed into the glass, desperately needing something to hold onto.

Your hips rolled against his fingers as he worked them over your clit, you were starting to tremble, your thighs closing around his hand, squeezing as you started to come. He groaned in approval as he watched you come undone against the window, your arm braced against the glass and a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Good girl," He whispered, his arm holding your waist, his lips kissing and sucking on your neck.

He unclasped your bra, splaying his hand across your back and pressing you up against the glass, your breasts squashed against the cold window, a hot flush spreading across your chest.

His shirt was already unbuttoned, and it was quick work for him to take off his belt and slip out of his pants. You turned your head to look at him, and god, he was beautiful. There was a patch of black hair just below his belly button, trailing down into his pants, and thick dark hair lined his arms. But when your eyes dropped down, your mouth fell open, his cock was... Just as excellent as the rest of him.

"Do you like being on display for the whole city?" He asked, enjoying the way you seemed completely enraptured by him.

"No..." You said, a mischievous smile creeping onto your face. "They probably can't see me, just some shadow against the window,"

He grabbed your chin and kissed you hard, a bruising clash of teeth and tongue, driving you to madness with every breath. His other hand was already pressing you up against the window, his hips driving his cock forward and filling you up in one swift motion.

You cried out, nails scratching the window and your chest slamming up against the glass, a chill running through you as the cold pressed into your skin.

"You are so fucking gorgeous," He hissed, his hands gripping your hips hard.

"Fuck me," You demanded, pushing back against him, grinding your hips up into him, moving in a way that caused you to choke out a breathless cry, fireworks exploding behind your eyes.

"So bossy, so demanding, are you like this with everyone or am I just lucky?" He said, his eyes traveling over every inch of your body.

"Maybe I just want you to shut up and fuck me,"

He wrapped his hand around your neck, pulling you back against his chest and holding you firmly as he fucked you.

Your knees felt weak, the grip he had on your throat restricting your airways, the pleasure burning into your lungs like hot lava. It was intense, your eyes began to water and your thighs trembled. Elijah's movements slowed, his pace becoming steady and smooth, rolling his hips gently, caressing you.

"Are you alright?" He asked, pressing soft kisses on your jawline. "You're shaking,"

You gulped and smiled, nodding. "You're just really good at this,"

"It's my favorite way to relax," He said, his lips tracing your ear.

You moaned at his touch, his lips feeling so soft against your skin.

"Look at them, look at all the little ants down below," He murmured, his thrusts increasing in intensity, his hand tightening around your throat. "Anyone could look up and see you, anyone. Your assistants, shareholders, a random stranger, just an anonymous face in the crowd, and they're all going about their night and here you are, above them all,"

It was intoxicating, looking down at the brightly lit city, even from this far up, you felt so high, you could fall into it all and lose yourself in the darkness, let yourself drown in the lights.

You pushed back against him, chasing the high he offered, your breath shallow and panting. His fingers raked down your skin, scraping over the flesh of your ribs, leaving your body covered in a trail of dark marks, claiming you.

His teeth bit into the skin of your neck as he pushed you back against the window, his hands over yours, holding them against the glass. He was rough and hard with you, snapping his hips and driving you up onto the tips of your toes.

"Mr. Mikaelson..." You moaned, struggling to keep yourself standing.

He chuckled and pulled you away from the window, throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to the sofa. You giggled and kicked your legs, but he kept a strong hold on you, carrying you over to the large leather couch and depositing you on it.

"There," He said, leaning over you and parting your legs, "more comfortable?"

"Very." You said, biting your lip as you gazed up at him.

He knelt between your legs, sliding his hands under your ass and pulling you towards him, his mouth latching onto your pussy, licking a path along the seam.

You breathed out a sigh, closing your eyes and tilting your head back, your hands reaching for him, holding onto his hair, his shoulders, whatever you could reach.

"So, tell me," He said, taking a moment to rest his chin against your thigh, "do you agree that tis is a good way to relax?"

You huffed and sat up, pushing his head back down between your legs. He laughed and got back to it, letting you pull his hair and fuck yourself on his face.

His tongue was warm and wet, his thumb rubbing you, stroking your clit in little circles, teasing you. You wriggled and writhed against him, his mouth, his hands, they drove you insane.

Just when you were about to come he pulled away, kissing his way up your body, licking your nipples, your neck, your ear, trailing soft kisses on your face until you opened your eyes and looked at him.

He kissed you hard, your thighs trembling. His cock was hard against you, pressing back inside you. You moaned into his mouth as you adjusted to the feeling of him, the sensation of being filled up.

You loved it, the way you tightened around him, pulling him closer, deeper. He was breathing hard, the corners of his mouth twitching in a smile, his gaze constantly shifting, flickering from your mouth to your eyes, down to your chest.

His hand brushed against your cheek as he leaned back and began to move, gripping your waist and holding you close, his hips rolling into yours, finding a rhythm that made your toes curl, his voice murmuring your name softly in your ear, encouraging you to let go.

He smiled as you arched off the couch and dug your fingers into his skin, holding him to you. He wanted you close, skin-to-skin, every inch of you touching him, melting together.

You opened your eyes and found yourself staring up at his face, his skin, slightly flushed, his eyes were bright and he was grinning. The sex was turning into something more intimate, an actual bond was developing between the two of you.

"I like you," you whispered, grabbing his arm and pulling him close, your lips brushing against his, "I really like you,"

"Yeah?" He said, kissing you deeply.

"Yeah," you agreed, holding his face in your hands,

"It really like you too," He said, his thrusts growing deeper, stronger, more intense. He was chasing his own release now, desperate to feel you clenching around him, moaning his name.

You gasped and clung to him, your nails digging into his skin, your head thrown back, your eyes shut tight as you rode out the waves of pleasure flowing through you, and he followed right behind you, coming with a grunt, a low, quiet sound that made your stomach flutter.

He pulled out and sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms, your back against his chest. You could feel his breath tickling your neck, his chest rising and falling against your back.

He pulled the blanket that was folded on the back of the sofa over the two of you, wrapping it around you and holding you close.

The room was quiet, silent, save for the muffled noise of the city below, the cars and the traffic, the random sounds of the distant city.

You felt relaxed, actually relaxed, like you were floating. His warm arms around you felt like a cocoon. He was watching you, his eyes tracing over your body, his fingertips featherlight against your bare skin.

"Can I pencil you in for another meeting tomorrow?" You asked with a grin, your fingers grazing along his forearms.

He pulled your sticky note out of his pocket, sticking it to your forehead, a soft rumble coming from his chest as he chuckled.

"Hmm, I don't know, do you want to make a habit of this?" He asked, his hands smoothing down the sides of your body.

"Would that be so bad?" You asked, leaning back against his chest, letting him wrap his arms around you.

"Not at all, it's what I've been wanting since I met you," He admitted, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Me too, you've been on my mind constantly," You said, tilting your head back and kissing him.

"I know," he said with a cheeky smile, tapping on the note stuck to your head.

"Oh, very funny," You rolled your eyes, relaxing against him, your eyes growing heavy as the weight of the day's events caught up to you.

"Sleep, love," He whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, his arms tightening around you.

"But I have so much to do," You protested, trying to sit up.

He held onto you, keeping you from moving, you didn't put up much of a fight. You wanted to stay right there.

"Work can wait until tomorrow, I have no intention of letting you go anywhere anytime soon," He said, his lips finding your temple, planting a soft kiss there.

"I can't just stay here," You said, a smile on your face as he ran his hand through your hair.

"Why not? You're the boss, you can do whatever you want," He said, nuzzling your neck.

You sighed, giving in and relaxing in his arms. It had been a while since you'd felt so content.

"Alright, maybe I can spare a few hours," You said, closing your eyes and allowing sleep to wash over you. And for the first time in a long time you fell asleep without a worry in the world.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[reshinless]

If it's alright, may I ask for ZZZ Anton, Von Lycaon, and Billy Kid with a rather renowned g/n patissier s/o? Someone is known for having creative dessert concepts, and enjoys presenting it to them to try (Even though Billy cannot Eat.) Thank you very much! :]]

──── wakering steps

𝜗𝜚 synopsis. tasty treats, and its all for him! what? what do you mean you have a business to run?!

𝜗𝜚 pairings. anton, billy kid, & lycaon x gn!reader (seperately)

𝜗𝜚 director's notice. firm believer that these three + wise have sweet teeth (or tooths idk) ALSO SORRY FOR LATE REPLY WHEN I RECEIVED THIS REQ I GOT WRITER'S BLOCKKK

anton who wants to be your taste tester, bad and good treats because anything from you is a gift (even when he's throwing up at the toilet)

jokes aside, but anton definitely would love anything you gave him, especially with all the silly little candy on top of the cake, or the tasty frosting you let him try as he watched you from behind while you decorated a cake for a rich couple's anniversary

anton is very enthusiastic about trying your decorations. oh? they're plastic? *choking*

he's a real sweetheart for everything you make. please give him a slice or two after work is over, he'd really like that. or even just a simple treat.

whenever people come over to the shop while he's there, he's definitely flexing about how your his s/o. get him a shirt with those exact words while he's at it.

anton appreciates you so much. keep feeding him till you're both old and wrinkly :p

billy who loves your cooking. he compliments it, even when you know he can't try them

but i know that billy is someone who loves acts of service & physical touch. you know he can't feel them but you do it anyway. that's sweeter than any cake you've made.

billy falls in love all over again each time you give him hugs from behind, even when he jumps in surprise. you know what will fix it? a cupcake! come on come on! give it here!

he treasures everything you give him, ranging from small treats you let him model for (for advertisement), or the huge cakes he wishes he could taste. billy loves them either way

even if billy can't feel your touch, or experience the chance to eat your delicious pastries.. he really appreciates the thought you put into it, even on his birthdays, you bake him silly little pastries and cakes.

billy will praise your work a lot, he knows how much time, and passion you put into each piece, and knows it'll make whoever eats it happy. that's enough for him to ponder on what it could taste like.

lycaon is willing to help you advertise, he knows everyone will love a tasty pastry with a side of fluff

definitely very good at recommending you to others (him n his connections through victoria housekeeping >_o).

lycaon who loves every flavor you let him try, always asking him if its good or not, even when you know he'll say it's the best.. because it comes from you

lycaon who'll eat even your burnt, or ruined pastries (as long as edible) to make you feel better. stands his ground on him willing to taste anything you make, because nothing else can match the passion you put into your pastries

looks at you so lovingly from behind while you work hard to come up with something unique for next week's special. lycaon will help you come up with names for them if you'd really like, he knows a thing or two that would catch people's eye.

lycaon knows you overwork yourself sometimes, finding you asleep, face beside your newest treat. carries you bridal style to your room- the one you share with him. planting a peck on your forehead.

lycaon praises you for your passion, but is concerned you'll put it over your health one day. a day where he isn't there. very adamant on not letting you work past 5 hours on weekends

lycaon who's really caring for you, n loves you so much !!!!

THIS WAS SO CUTE I SHOULDVE DONE IT EARLIER11!!!

[after-witch]

Comin' In Hot! [Yandere Phinks x Reader]

Title: Comin' In Hot! [Yandere Phinks x Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes, when you've been kidnapped by a lovesick member of an infamous murderous Troupe, all you can do is order your comfort food and hope for the best.

Word Count: 700ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of emotional and physical abuse

You wanted to watch a women’s-night-out comedy. 

“Babe.”

Phinks wanted to watch an action flick.

“Babe.”

The movie playing on the TV now, as you both eat your takeout dinner, is a buddy comedy, which is a little bit of both, and a good enough compromise that you’re not in a sour mood. You’ve got to appreciate when he’s willing to compromise, even if it’s only for little things. 

“Babe.”

You blink, and look up, a spoonful of rice and curry on its way to your lips. 

“What?”

You slowly bring the spoon to your mouth, savoring the rich spice and the hint of lime brightness at the end. A great little citrus kick, thanks to the lime slice that the restaurant tucked into the carryout box. 

“Are you… doing okay?”

Your eyebrows furrow. Are you doing something wrong? It’s happened before--you doing or saying something that pissed him off or worried him without you realizing. But you can’t think of anything that you might be doing now, simply sitting next to him in the living room, eating a meal off a TV tray set before you. 

He huffs. And looks away. And finally juts his chin towards you, mumbling out something in a tone that passes for caring, when it comes to Phinks. 

“You’re crying.” 

Oh.

Well. You are crying, yes, that’s certainly true. A tear slides down your cheek and there’s a familiar blurriness to your vision, but without the heaviness in your chest that usually accompanies a hearty self-pitying sob session. 

That’s because the tears are instinctual here. Biological. It’s what happens when you get extra spicy food. Extra ultra mega delicious spicy food, which burns your taste buds and sends endorphins rushing through you like very little else does nowadays. 

Yes, it hurts, but it’s goddamned tasty.  

You sniffle through your nose, and wipe at your eyes with your forearm, careful to keep the spoon and its spice-laden curry remnants away from your delicate membranes.

“It’s fine,” you say, smiling, before digging your spoon back into the curry container. “It’s just because it’s really spicy.” Even talking hurts a little, and you lick a piece of stray rice from behind your teeth, which sends the spicy sensations tingling onto the tip of your tongue.

Phinks regards you with an incredulous expression. His eyebrows raise. "Maybe it's too hot for you. You can eat mine instead."

You shake your head, and quickly scoop up another bite, savoring the flavors and mm-ing for emphasis on just how enjoyable you find your lavalicious meal.

And yeah, your lips are a little swollen, your vision is blurry, and you’re sure you’ll have some heartburn tonight and asking Phinks for heartburn medicine will greatly depend on whether or not you want spicy food again anytime soon.  

And sure, sure, sure. You’re sitting in the living room of some abandoned house (if you can call “you have good reason to believe Phinks simply killed the previous occupant and took it for himself” abandoned) held captive by a member of the Phantom Troupe.

But you’re watching a movie that is pretty close to what you wanted, and he let you order your favorite foods and for once didn’t wring his hands and complain when you asked him to order it Extra Hot.

"I like it like this, Phinks," you tell him, pouting just a little. Not enough for him to find it rude. But enough for it to be cute--you hope.

He's been kind to you today. And there's a streak going, apparently, because after you give your explanation, he lets his wary expression fade away until he slowly turns back to the movie, taking bites of his own (much milder) dinner. 

”If you say so,” is his mumbled reply. You can tell he’s still a little worried, still a little bothered. But not enough to stop you. Probably because you’re being so complacent. Watching a movie with him. Eating dinner with him. Smiling at him. 

You smile at him again, thin-lipped, but still a smile. It’s better to smile and force yourself to enjoy the normalcy of this completely-not-normal moment. It makes him less volatile. It makes him less likely, in the end, to grip your arm so hard you’re worried that it might snap or yell in your face that he’s just trying-to-be-a-good-boyfriend-goddamn-it-why-can’t-you-see-that.

But now? With your mouth burning and a movie playing… you can pretend. 

Watching movies that you don’t totally hate helps you do that. 

Eating your favorite meals helps you do that. 

And if you stop yourself before you finish the container, you can do the same thing tomorrow with the leftovers. 

[queen-of-elves]

Kinktober 2023: Oneshot

Sanji Vinsmoke x f!reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

A/N: bit ooc Sanji? At first I had in mind anime!Sanji but it's a bit of personality hybrid between anime and opla,I tried lol also this is my first smut I actually posted and you can NOT change my mind that Sanji is a service bottom

And yes, I am late as always, had no time to proofread it but I did edit as much as I could

A/N2: the lovely pink MDNI banner is from @cafekitsune and I love their work, definitely check them out and give them some love too

+I have some more Sanji fanfics in WIPs

Words:  2,7K

Warnings: unintentional aphrodisiac use, oral (f! receiving), hair pulling? (Sanji receiving tho), overstimulation, fingering, multiple orgasms,

The Strawhat pirates loved adventures and causing trouble while experiencing them but sometimes their adventures turned into a life or death situation quite easily. It was actually more common than most would think. And that brings us to the situation at hand, all of you running away from what at first seemed like a fun little island which turned out to be home to man eating plants around the size of Thousand Sunny. 

In the end, when everyone boarded the ship and you were far away from the cursed island, you all had to agree on one thing, the stop was much needed. The crew had been on the sea for some time now and the supplies you got from the last town were stretching thin, it had little to do with your long journey, the fault lied with your captain and his midnight raids on the kitchen. But thanks to the island you were now happy to be as far from as you could get, all of you had enough to eat for at least a month, well, according to Sanji, who was not only in charge of the kitchen but also of its protection from your gluttony of a captain.

Speaking of Sanji, you always had a thing for the handsome chef, even though you knew of his habit of flirting with every woman he saw. There was just something about him that didn’t let you sleep at night. One of your favorite activities involving the cook was watching him create various wonderful dishes for the whole crew.

And whatever he was cooking now was smelling delicious, the smell filling the corridors leading to the kitchen, Sanji’s kingdom itself. The whole kitchen smelled of herbs you could not recognize, similar to rosemary but not quite, you of course knew no matter with what Sanji works, he always makes the best dish out of it. And there it was, in a tall metal cooking pot was  the source of the delicious smell, a rich stew full of potatoes and tasty looking meat. You were sure Sanji wouldn’t mind if you had a spoonful before he was done with dinner. 

“You can be the first to taste my new dish if you want.” Oh, speaking of the handsome devil. Turning around you were greeted with quite the sight. The blond cook was casually leaning on the doorframe watching you with a smirk.

“So, I will be the first one to get poisoned from those strange herbs?”

“Oh, you hurt my heart, sweetness. You know I wouldn’t want to poison your or our captain.”

“I don’t think Luffy can get poisoned from anything at this point and anyway, we're talking about your cooking, there is like zero percent chance that it would happen.”

“Well aren’t you sweet. Would you then do me the honor and try my new dish, please sweetheart?” The blond seemed pretty adamant about you trying his dish and since there was no escaping his pleads you decided to grant his wish. After all, you, yourself were already itching to have a taste yourself.

“Of course.” You could clearly tell that Sanji was trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing but was eagerly waiting to see your reaction upon eating the dish.

Holding up a plate so you wouldn’t let even drop escape onto the kitchen counter, you took one of the spoons that sat on it.

“Oh, that’s my-” Sanji didn’t even get to finish before you already put the spoon with the broth in your mouth. “I don’t mind.” Your words seemed to resonate with him and by the look of it had a particular effect considering the bloody nose he was trying to hide. For some reason reactions like this, especially from the pretty cook, seemed to boost your confidence quite a bit. It felt nice to know you had such an effect on him, even though most ladies did too.

A moan ripped out of your throat, the broth was rich, the little bit of meat you were able to fish out onto the small spoon was smooth and just right on the fatty side. He did it once again, created something absolutely sense shattering out of almost nothing. Day and night you were proud of Luffy for getting such a capable cook on his crew just so you could selfishly eat only the best dishes in the world.

There was something different about this whole feeling though, you felt warm but not in the sense you usually did with his food. Sanji was capable of making dishes that would decimate the cold stuck to the crew’s bones after every winter striked island. However the warmth you felt soon turned into a flame in your lower belly.

“Is it good?” The cook was still anticipating any kind of review, a compliment maybe, with a shy smile, he was unsuccessfully trying to hide.

“Yeah-,” you were breathless, struggling to comprehend what was happening but you still moved closer to the young cook, “could I get-?” You motioned to the still bubbling pot, the plate and spoon held up for Sanji to take from you.

“Yeah, of course.” He smoothly took the plate and spoon from your hands and in one swift motion filled the plate for you. “I mean, dinner is soon but-” he held the plate for you to take again “, anything for you, sweetheart.”

His words woke up something in you, the flame turning into a blaze in you. This was starting to be embarrassing the more apparent was your state to him but still you tried to hide it. You knew you couldn’t take the plate from him, your hands were too shaky and sweaty, you were afraid the plate would fall to the ground the moment it left his hand. 

Speaking of his hand, had you always been so fascinated with it as much as you were now? You couldn’t help but trace each vein, his strong grip on the white ceramic or the ring he always wore with your eyes. The moment you started shamelessly and openly pant, lapping on the air around you, you knew the illusion of nothing happening was shattered.

 “I feel hot.” Your gaze started to fog over, still you could recognize Sanji’s confused expression. For a moment he stared embarrassed at your face before he turned back to the pot muttering something about spices and if it’s still cooking.

“Is it that spicy? Maybe the herbs contain too much capsaicin.” He was huffing under his breath, angry at himself for serving you something that was not completely perfect. He was sure he tasted it before letting it boil a bit, he was waiting for the taste of each ingredient to combine. However, he truly did not anticipate such a change in flavor, especially such a drastic one.

“No.” There was a certain weight on your chest and drops of sweat started to appear on your skin. But then you finally recognized the feeling.  “That’s not it.” You couldn’t help but clench your thighs together, the feeling too strong to ignore. It was lust all along.

The atmosphere in the kitchen was thick, you knew Sanji saw right through you the way he stared so shamelessly at your chest before quickly looking up at your face. His embarrassment from his failure to deliver tasty dish soon too turned into something completely different.

“It's your problem too, you caused it!” The heat was spreading now, the tips of your fingers were tingling and your head felt like you were standing in a fog. The feeling was overwhelming you, almost paralyzing your brain. Simple thoughts were starting to be hard to produce.

“So do something about it.” It was also starting to be difficult to speak, to think at all and those words were the only thing you could muster enough power to say. You muttered them under your breath anyway. 

“Wha-what?” His eyes, previously and again stuck on your heaving chest, finally met yours, widening at the realization of what you meant. 

“Ok-okay.”

You never thought you would get into such a situation, especially with the cook. It was not like you didn’t find him attractive, he was. Blond shiny hair, muscular back and strong hands, there was nothing you wouldn’t like. You liked him too much on some occasions, just like this one. 

Your throbbing heat was met with another rough thrust of his tongue interrupting your train of thoughts. You could already feel the bruises forming from the way his hands were gripping your hips, where his long fingers were holding you still. The only clothing still on you was your shirt, pushed over your chest with bra already missing, and pants still holding on to the ankle of your right leg, otherwise you were completely bare for the world to see.

Sanji was all over you, he was everywhere. His hot kisses were still present on your skin even with his mouth already preoccupied with your pussy. Your skin sweaty, beads of it rolling down into the now wet sheets, but there was no thought in your head of the uncomfortable feeling of the bed sheets sticking to your skin. 

Your white shirt was pushed up over your breasts, giving Sanji the perfect view he could ever ask for. Seeing your hard nipples and tasting you was heaven on earth for him. Pulling on his hair to the point you were sure you would rip some but you couldn’t stop, he made you feel too good, your next orgasm was quickly approaching. His hands slowly traveled from your bruised hips to now the globes of your ass, gripping between it and halfway on the way to your thighs. He squeezed your skin once again, enjoying the moan it ripped from your throat, he could only smirk.

He could feel your release coming, your walls tightening, pushing his tongue out but he was going to win this battle. Spasm over took your body, squeal leaving your throat. The overstimulation was too much for your body but too little for what was happening to you, you needed more. 

”I got you, don’t worry, sweetheart.” His tongue dived deeper than before, continuing his ministration of your insides. His motion slowly released tension from your muscles until the next spasm hit you again.

Panting, the words you had on your tongue slipped away into darkness. There was no thought in your head and if there was, it was all about how the young cook was making you feel good and how needy you were for the next release. You were completely gone, moaning, squirming wreck in painful ecstasy. Sanji made you see stars just with his mouth. 

There was an intense stare, unmoving from your face that was full of pleasure, he couldn’t simply look away from you. And then you saw it, his own face wrinkled in pleasure. The only thing the young cook needed for his own lust to explode was your own pleasure and you loved it.

But he was not done with you and so was not your body. The moment you came down from your high the heat was already spreading out again, the never ending cycle continued and you begged for another touch from him. 

“More, Sanji-” another moan ripped from your throat when he pushed you thighs over his shoulders, sinking right back into your cunt, devouring you again”- more!” He wanted to bring you close again but his jaw was getting tired. He needed to rethink his approach so he would be able to give you as much pleasure as possible without getting tired too quickly.

“Can I-?” You knew what he meant, you could feel his finger tracing your outer lips, gathering all the slick it could. Your legs pushed even higher, your pants finally slipping from your right foot on to the ground. Slowly pushing one of his fingers in, he moved his mouth to your clit, giving it attention it deserved. 

This was the feeling you needed to graduate your state, to get closer to another release faster. The motion of his finger pushing in and out was increasing in its speed before Sanji slowed down again, earning him another tug on his hair and displeasing grunt from your lips. But it all had a reason, Sanji made sure to kiss your clit before slowly pushing another finger into you. Carefully stretching you out with two fingers he moved his attention back to your clit. One kiss turned into small licks before his mouth was attached to it again, vigorously sucking while he started to pump his fingers into you with no mercy. He could feel your velvet walls tightening once more, almost sucking him in before another loud shout escaped your lips and your body started to tremble.

The young man had to stop for a moment, the white ring that formed around his fingers that were plunging into your cunt completely hypnotized him. Not wholly aware he curled his fingers inside making you squeeze him even harder, another orgasm approaching fast. If heaven exists, Sanji was sure this was his, this was his holy paradise and if it weren’t for the tears, which he was sure was not entirely from how good he made you feel, he would wish for this to never end. But you were in pain and there was no place in Sanji’s world where he would overlook it for his own pleasure.

He already drew two orgasms from you but the ache in your lower belly was not ending. At this point you were sure you were going to die. You were going to die like this writhing sweaty and moaning mess this gorgeous man made you. It’s like he was made to give you pleasure, to make you feel good. Sanji knew exactly where to touch you to weaken the pain in your core. 

With each orgasm given to you, you would think the ache would be substituted only with pleasure. However, there was no exchange, your body still whined for touch, his touch. You couldn’t move, all your energy was drained in the process of your satisfaction. And even though your limbs turned into jelly at least your thoughts started to finally clear with the last silent scream he could push from you. You had enough energy only for the silent scream, the air already left your lungs, leaving you panting once again. However, there is something delicious building up in your belly, toe curling and brain scraping feeling and if your mind could still function you would know this was the big climax and the end to your suffering and pleasure.

One last push just mere seconds later from the end of your last high resulted into another one. This time you were completely spent, exhaustion slowly overtaking you, still you couldn’t help but smile at Sanji who was giving you adoring looks from between his now messy stuck in eyes hair. If it was not the feeling you experienced this evening that you would remember forever, it would definitely be the sight of Sanji on his knees between your legs. 

Soon it was too hard to stay awake, even though you wanted to. You wanted to stare at Sanji while he slowly got up and went for something to clean you up with, you wanted to stare at his blush painted cheeks and sweat stained hair now sticking to his forehead or the way his dress shirt cling to his sweaty chest but your eyes soon shut completely, just like you shut down the world around you and welcomed the needed sleep.

But if you did stay awake you would know how he slowly cleaned you up before pulling the covers over your exhausted self and if you stayed awake even longer it wouldn’t be only your subconscious deciding to catch his hand before he left, tugging at him as if you wanted him to hold you in your sleep. And for one moment Sanji was selfish and did so, he crawled under the covers next to you, wrapping his arms around you and holding you like the most precious treasure. He knew, in the morning he would confess his undying love to you anyway.

Thank you for reading. :)

Bonus??: Sanji didn’t mind he was still painfully hard, from all he had witnessed and done, all it mattered to his stupid mind was that your lust was extinguished for the moment and nothing could change his mind.

Well, maybe except for your slick stained panties laying on the floor right in his line of sight while he was blessed with holding you in his arms.

[wasyago]

unsure if you’ve been asked this before but what is your character designing process?

i have already answered in this post (you can go read it if you want), though it's more jrwi based, so i feel like i can answer again! i doubt I'll end up saying something new but hwhatever who cares dhhdhd

obviously this isn't math, so there's no specific scheme i follow every time, and each design is different and it all varies heavily.

in general, when i start working on a design i already have *some* sort of idea in mind. normally not for the entirety of it, but some bits and pieces here and there that help me characterize the design in my head! i try to get those on the canvas first. they're like key points, and i most likely wont change them.

(and if i don't have an idea, i don't start drawing. and instead scroll through my gallery or pinterest in search of inspiration)

let's take my Gem's recent design as an example! i knew i wanted her to be a squirrel, and i already had squirrel scar and cub designs to base it off. so the key points were big pointy ears, curvy tail, claws. i also knew i wanted her clothing to look regal and floral, and reflect her main base. this is an idea that i haven't fully visualized, but i kept it in mind and knew in which direction i had to move.

after that comes the point where i start making stuff up 👍👍 i enjoy thinking my designs through and making them make sense in my head and be practical. so the process consists of me asking myself questions and then answering them in a design. with occasional "oh wouldn't that be cool" thrown into it.

continuing with gem. she needed to have her clothes be suited for a tail, so her underskirt splits in three parts to make it easier. i still wanted the design to be recognizable as gem and have it resemble her skin; so i kept the white sleeves, the green skirt, the corset. i wanted to make her and scar's designs match, so i changed the corset to green with this long piece of cloth but decided to change the patterns on it. because the brown from the corset was gone, i removed it from her shoes as well and made them black instead, so brown wasn't part of the color pallett anymore. i will introduce pink into the design later, so getting rid of one of the colors wasn't that big of a deal. plus, brown makes her look more down to earth, whereas i want her to look elegant and rich, so its a win/win. i wanted to keep her antlers, but obviously she's not a deer anymore, so i turned them into a crown and made it black to match the shoes. etc etc. i can ramble for three more hours about this hdgshsh.

well, that's how the well thought designs work.

sometimes it's just "im gonna draw all the things i think are fun and cute until i can't think of any" and there's no rhyme or reason to it. that's why things like "doc as a unicorn", one-off series designs, random concepts, aus exist!

sometimes its a "i have no idea what to do with it, so im gonna merge all the layers together and just keep fiddling with it until i figure it out", and that's exactly what happens. if i feel stuck with a design, merging it together and working with both line and color helps a ton, because it helps me to see the design as a whole and i dont have to divide my process and think of which parts im gonna do in color and which in line! recent example is hypno's design. here it is when i didn't know how to make it interesting and the final version:

(funnily enough i still like the first concept, the fact that all the clothes is the same color is quite tasty. but i know that if i needed to draw this design in the future, i would struggle with keeping the clothing layers separated and shading and all that stuff.)

visually i don't think there's much difference between how i design things (?), but the process varies and in my head they're all on like, different tiers.

hopefully this was somewhat helpful! if not it at least let me ramble about my design process which is great hdhsjsh

[absolutebl]

Hi P’ABL, building off an earlier ask you answered, what are your top recommendations if I want to watch a BL where the main focus is the romance between two characters? Something along the lines of Semantic Error for example? Or even Old Fashioned cupcake?

Hum, you mean where there is little to no outside plots, external pressure, or secondary characters? Most KBLs are pretty closed systems but they of have external pressures. Lemme think... there are shorts of course. Okay I did a ratings sort and then just read through my favorites with this in mind... this is pretty darn subjective tho.

BLs that are just simple sweet romances

High School Setting

I Cannot Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai (Japan 2023) - a very simple friends to lovers romance.

HIStory 2: Crossing the Line (Taiwan 2018) - classic sports romance

My School President (Thailand 2023) - the high school version of soft boys being soft, there's a side "plot" and a band but who cares?

About Youth (Taiwan 2022)

University Setting

Semantic Error (Korea 2022) - asker chose this as their primary example.

A Breeze of Love (Korea 2023) - reunion romance

A First Love Story (Korea 2021) - 2 part short that is exactly what you want.

Oxygen the series (Thailand 2020) - the university version of soft boys being soft, this one is a hyung with the young rich boy chasing the older orphan

We Best Love (Taiwan 20210 - part one is enemies to lovers, part 2 is office reunion enemies to lovers 2nd chance.

2gether (Thailand 2020) - oh the pining ridiculousness

Star in My Mind Star and Sky (Thailand 2022)

Hidden Agenda (Thailand 2023) - that isn't hidden at all

Love By Chance (Thailand 2018) - watch for AePete and TinCan but don't bother with the other threads

Why R U? (Thai 2020) - I mean it's madness but there is no other plot but the romances

Why R U? (Korean adaptation of Thai original) (Korea 2023)

2 Moons 2 is kinda the same thing, but I don't rate it as high as the Why R U?s. There are many who would call me crazy for this.

I thought about including the Love Class series but both of them have stalking sub plots. And I'm inferring you don't want any darkness or stress at all.

Office Romances

Old Fashion Cupcake (Japan 2022) - asker chose this as a second example, although I would call it a bit more complex given the themes of self discovery and worth.

Our Dating Sim (Korea 2023) - basically a reunion romance (second chance) but there is a bit of work stuff.

Be Loved In House: I Do (Taiwan 2021) - office romance, it's Taiwan so like We Best Love it'll be a little chaotic but I think it's what you're looking for.

Love is Science? BL Cut (Taiwan 2021) - the gays are the side couple there is a noona romance lead and a mature romance side, everything soft romance all day long.

Step By Step (Thailand 2023) - pretty classic office romance, Korea's version is called The New Employee and is also good but there is a lot more about the actual job as part of the plot.

Love Mate (Korea 2023) - aggressive pursuit from the new intern but it's a Kdrama so its ultimately soft...

Roommates of Poongduck 304 (Korea 2022) - cohabitation and office enemies to lovers

Foodie Romances

Bon Appetit (Korea 2023) - reunion romance

The Tasty Florida (Korea 2021) - love at first sight

What Zabb Man! (Thailand 2022) - he knows him by the taste of that one dish!

You Are Ma Boy (Vietnam 2021) - had to throw in something from Vietnam

Countryside Setting

Love Tractor (Korea 2023) - city boy meets country boy, they fall in love, opposites attract

A Tale of Thousand Stars (Thailand 2021) - okay this does have lots of extra characters and some complexity because it's GMMTV and Thailand but it is the most classic "romance" that Thailand has ever done gay. Kissing on cliffs at sunset and parting at airports and everything.

Some More (Korea 2018) - another great short that meets your criteria

Okay I think that's it, if you want to give more restrictions I could tailor the list down more.

[sugar-omi]

On the topic of moisturizing our ocean boy's lips... May I add a lil' idea on how making things easier...?

First: apply a very generous amount of your fav lipbalm on your lips.

Second: lightly tap the corner of your mouth with your index with an innocent smile and say "Cove, it's lipcare time, baby".

Third: Indulge and enjoy.

Somehow, I've got the feeling that Cove would be a real threat to MC's scented lipbalms/lipsticks/lipglosses. You know, like when you can't help but eat your lipstick once applied, because it's tasty and it becomes a habbit you absent-mindedly do...? Well, I kinda hc him doing the same, but to MC's lips.

I think it'd even reach a point where MC'd have a stack of lipsticks/balms only for his personal use (on MC's mouth). Pricey lipsticks would be worn only when sure he'd not be around. And i think he might pout and feel "cheated" if MC would ever dare wearing one of those long-lasting lipsticks (because he enjoys having you apply, re apply and re-re apply your gloss, so he can have seconds, thirds, as much as he wants, MC's mouth literally becomes Free Dessert Buffet to him).

Downside of it... your make up budget might explode, with how fast those lipsticks and balms are finished.

There's this french brand which sells this absolutely delicious lipbalm made with honey. You literally wanna scoop it from the bottle and eat it. Also, it's the kind of really rich and thick, blanket-like texture you'd apply before sleep. So if MC ever uses it... they'd probably have to either try keeping Cove away from their lips (at least enough time for the product to do its job on their lips), or benevolently sharing (cause it's caring), or resign to plan their lip moisturizing routine another day... or hide while doing it.

I think lipsticks/balms would end up being one of the most fav items Cove would gift them...

Sorry, I went a bit overboard with the topic... 😅

Rambling anon -

THIS IS SO GOOD

MC putting on one of their nicer lipsticks/glosses, or putting a lotta time/effort into their lips and limiting cove to 1 or 2 pecks. PECKS. not kisses. PECKS.

cove is pouting, his distraught... he just wants to kiss you, your lips look so nice n juicy n shiny and-

he needs his fix.

definitely make him buy some if not all your lip products. if he wants to keep kissing you silly, wants to keep smudging your lipstick/gloss n making it so obvious what you were just up to, then he needs to pay for it!!!!

imagine giving him a lil peck, and then it turns to 3, than 5, and now you're just kissing... your lip is totally ruined, lipstick n carefully lined lips totally smudged.

don't ask if he's proud of himself because he'll just laugh n rub his arm. or maybe he's just looking at you all love-drunk. doesn't care about all the lipstick staining his lips... hopefully no one walks around the corner this time

liz did once, n she does not let you live in it down... specifically cove. always teasing him with, "cove, theres lipstick on your chin" and snickering hysterically when he slaps a hand over his mouth n chin, trying to wipe off the "lipstick"

(she did it once, being totally serious, and cove was like "im not falling for that again >:(" and went to work with your lipstick on his lips...)

yall definitely lip makeup wipes n a compact mirror on hand at this point...

[greenerteacups]

Well on the GOT theme now that we're here... you've written before about how the Black family fascinates you. Are there families or houses in the GOT universe that pique your interest and curiosity in that way? What are your head canons about them?

NOW THAT WE'RE HERE... such a tasty question. The for real answer is that I am Starkpilled forever. Ned Stark worst politician of all time they could never make me hate you. Rob Stark you hot dumb bonnie prince charlie clone they could never make me hate you. Catelyn Stark you gorgeous vengeful bitch they could NEVER make me hate you. Jon Arya Sansa Bran and their feral kindergartener baby brother. Theon Greyjoy somehow serving levels of stepbrother never seen before in a family with a literal bastard stepbrother in it. A boring Stark? Never heard of one. All of them are insane deranged crazy intense weirdos who believe that They are the only Normal One in this crazy-ass family. And they all are kind of right but mostly wrong! The Targaryens are the sexy dragonrider house with a million cool names and dynastic squabbles and that would usually be my jam but. BUT. God damn do I love fucking weirdos. God damn do I love some brunette bitches in fur capes.

The more serious answer is that I think the Starks are one of the best families because not only are all of their characters individually developed and rich, but their family as such also has a really clear identity, which in turn informs how each of the members sees themselves. The Starks are often hinted to have a similar magic/spiritual connection to the earth that the Targaryens do, but because it's not as flashy, they aren't recognized as such by anyone. The children's pseudo-psychic bonds with their direwolves are the first kind of creature "magic" that we see in the story, long before Daenerys's dragons or any dragons are introduced, and I think the parallel is intentional. They're one of the oldest dynasties in Westeros. They're far older than any of the Valyrian houses; they've held Winterfell for so long that living memory doesn't even account for the full history of the castle. They built the Wall! They're a family of greenseers and wargs, children with mystical powers of sight and perception! And they're tied into the history of the land. They're mystical and ancient and old and powerful, and their stories all take the shape of myths. Which is such a fucking cool idea for a curse, right? Because like, what if your family curse was that you were destined to be the heroes of the story, every time? No matter what it cost you, what it did to you, what it asked of you? When the world calls, it's you, Stark, against the slings and arrows of fate. And it bequeaths to you the magic gifts that you need to perform that duty, because it is your possession of those gifts that make you the only ones who can. What kind of a tragedy would that be?

The serious and non-textual answer is that the North is to some extent modeled off the Highland clans — that is, a bunch of really proud, distinguished houses that all predate the unification of empire and maintain their distinct identities subsequent to that unification, and live in an ice-cold highland climate with mountains and rivers and lots of mythology and folklore about magical creatures and ghosts that is basically like the highlands and like okay the North is Scotland, okay, if you've never been to Scotland you just need to trust me on this but it's Scotland, it's fantasy Scotland. Which rules. Because Scotland is fucking awesome, firstly. And secondly, I love that Scottish house is the one house that keeps its shit together and hangs on for hundreds of years while all the bitches down south try to kill each other every 50. I love that the North is its own place, and it's still a little wild and mystical and it scares off everyone who's not from it, but the Stark children all know it and love it and so to them that wilderness feels like coming home. That's my pitch for House Stark.