#just one or two per character that i think fit! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

devourable · 6 months

Text

your first time • yanderes x reader, part one

nsfw, minors and ageless dni ;; smut (duh), virgin top x bottom gn reader, various kinks that will be tagged per character.

ft. abraham (yandere church boy), sterling (yandere prodigy), gene (yandere hacker), tobias and sebastian (yandere best friends), and mykolas (yandere monster)

this part will just be the guys (excluding the delinquents)! i wanted to put most of my polyamorous groups as well as the girls and enbies in part two. decided last minute to change it a bit and make it sort of ambiguous as to if the reader is a virgin or not. regardless!

thanks again for 2k 🫶

the church boy — abraham atkins ;; dacryphilia, elements of sizeplay, mentions of religion

abraham thought his first time would be well into the future, after he’d gotten married at his church and whisked off to start his own family like his father before him. it was just a part of life to him, not something to really care about or look forward to; but it was supposed to happen that way. but abe… he just couldn’t resist you!

he knew he shouldve stopped you the moment you had found yourself on his lap, pinning him to his bed after what was supposed to be an sleepover had gone completely off course. and he should’ve stopped you when you got your tongue in his mouth, grinded on him, getting him hard for practically the first time in his life. he should’ve stopped things before they went too far — but he couldn’t stop you. or himself, after he started to clumsily hump you back, his hands finding and delicately groping your ass in an attempt to figure out how he could fit against you best. abe has such an innocent hunger about him, he so desperately wants more — more what, exactly? he doesn't really know. you definitely end up having to take lead because he wholeheartedly doesn't know what he's doing.

but once you coax him out of his nerves and a bit of trial and error (he absolutely wouldn't have fit in you dry; and even after you taught him how to work you open and got his dick wet enough, it was still a tight fit!), you finally, finally get him inside you. and abe, poor abe didn't even know what hit him. despite the tears tumbling down his face purely from how good you felt around him, despite the deep rooted guilt of committing such a sin with the one he loved clawing at his chest, he couldn’t help how brutally he ended up fucking you. he’d pour out all of his pent up desire into you in one night, fucking you through climax after climax till you were seeing stars too.

the prodigy — sterling cygnus ;; overstimulation, risky(ish) setting/exhibitionism

it must all be a game to you, his feelings and this weird dynamic in your relationship. even when the two of you actually start dating (…sorta), he still had it in his head that you were just trying to fuck with him. what other reason could there be to explain how he felt aside from it being your fault?

it was when the two of you were in his dorm that he actually decided to push your boundaries, see what you would let him do before your ‘facade’ finally cracked. but you didn’t stop him when he pinned you against your bed, or when he started kissing you, or when the kiss transformed into an unintentionally heated makeout session. it wasn’t until you had started to pull off your shirt and palm at him through his pants that he started to think that you might’ve actually wanted him.

sterling didn’t really know how it went so far, but he stopped caring when the absolute carnal need to just feel you took over his brain. you must’ve assumed that he didn’t know how to make you feel good because he’s inexperienced, right? no? well, he doesn’t believe you. and to ensure you do, you’re not getting out of that dorm until he’s made you cum on him again, and again, and again. you’d have to think he’s playing with you at some point with how often he switches between fucking you and fingering you — he insists on making you cum both ways as many times as you can handle. he’s rattling the walls and got you sobbing his name so loud that no doubt the entire dorm can hear you (the walls were never that thick to begin with anyway). he relishes in not only knowing he’s completely claimed you, but now all of your colleagues will know too. he doesn’t care how much of a mess he’s making with your insides or how much of him spills out of you, nor does he care if you’re exhausted and sore from the waist down. you’re not done until he’s done with you — and being the overachiever he is, who knows when that’ll be? he’d hate to leave you thinking he’s anything but your number one.

the hacker — gene eliades ;; a lil dubcon-y, filming w/o reader’s knowledge

gene had waited for you to make a move on him first, he really did. he even tried enticing you in his own way, always sitting with his legs open so you could see the very clear outline of his dick through his pants, sitting you on his lap when he was working and keeping a hand on your body at all times. he’d kiss you, tell you how crazy you drove him, anything to give you an idea of what he wanted. but you never took that extra step and it left him wondering if it was because you were toying with him or if you really were that dense. either way, he had had enough, and after one particular day where the need burning in the pit of his stomach just wouldn’t go away, he decided that he wouldn’t wait anymore.

when you tried to slip off of his leg to do something, his arm curled around your waist and pulled you square into his lap, making sure you felt every inch of his erection against your ass. you were so irresponsible, constantly getting him riled up and never doing anything about it. did you even like him at all? regardless of your answer he was already sliding his hands under your clothes, groping your chest with one and working your bottoms down with the other.

it was unceremonious, the way gene bent you over his desk and buried himself up to the hilt in you before you could even voice any potential protests. but the feeling of him hitting all the right spots in you made your mind go blank, unable to do anything but moan his name every time he pulled you back against him. god, he loved hearing the way you whimpered for him, feeling you stretch around him when he fucked you just a bit too hard, the way your hips fit so nicely in his hands.

it was a good thing you were too fucked out to notice the little light next to his webcam aimed down at you. you wouldn’t mind if you did, he assumed — there was nothing wrong with wanting to remember this moment later, was there?

the boys next door — tobias & sebastian ;; double penetration, threesome

the pair had fantasized about losing their virginity to you years before it actually happened. the amount of times they’d gotten each other off with your name falling from their lips was too many to count, but god knows it just wasn’t enough for the two. but they never acted on those feelings, not until they had planned out the day to ensure it would be perfect.

you did find it a bit suspicious that the first time you were all free for the weekend at the same time was on the night that toby’s parents went out for an unplanned vacation, but you easily overlooked it when the pair offered you a sleepover (for old time’s sake!), bribed with promises of your favorite snacks and whatever movies you wanted to watch. you were sandwiched between the two in your best friend’s room, oh so aware of the growing tension but unsure where it was leading to — but then toby suddenly asked to kiss you. and what you assumed would be a playful peck ended with you pinned to the bed with tobias holding your wrists while sebastian made himself comfortable between your legs.

they really like you, and they know you like them too — you wanna be their first, don’t you? be their special someone? that’s what toby’s asking between kisses while seb’s lifting your shirt and sliding a hand down the front of your pants. it wasn’t until you finally gave them the permission they’d waited so long for that the pair allowed themself to really get the night started.

toby was the first to break you in while seb held you in his lap. it was a shame the pair didn’t think to record the moment… the face you made when toby fucked into you was so cute! and the noise you made when seb slid under you to try and squeeze into you alongside toby would play in their minds over and over again. they might’ve pushed you a bit too hard, stretching you well beyond your limit without even letting you catch your breath. they just couldn’t resist! you were clamping down on them, sucking them both in like you didn’t wanna let them go. it felt so good to make you cum.

the two were still up long after you had passed out, ogling your ruined state with an undeniable urge to fuck you up even more. they saw it like a badge of honor, proof that you’d always be theirs. the two would let you rest for the time being, but don’t worry — they still had an entire weekend with you ahead, and they didn’t plan on letting you step foot outside that house till their time was up.

the beast — mykolas ;; teratophilia (duh), size difference, outercourse/thighfucking

mykolas really, really didn’t want to hurt you. he was well aware of how big he was, especially compared to you — if you got hurt because he couldn’t control himself, he wouldn’t know what to do!

all of those thoughts were completely disregarded when he started rutting, though. the poor monster couldn’t think straight with his hormones running amok, and you being you — so soft, so small, so vulnerable, it was like you were designed to torture him through the season. you’d very quickly catch on to what was happening to your monstrous partner, considering you’d often be woken up by him grinding up against your back or stomach in a desperate bid to try and relieve the borderline painfully throbbing cock that was bothering him more and more these days. and though he’d never make his needs known vocally, you could just tell — that sad, pleading look he’d give you every time you looked at his pitiful form was just begging you to take care of him.

you knew for certain that you couldn’t just fuck him in his current state. his cock practically matched the length of your torso! and with how reckless his hormones were making him, the possibility of him ‘accidentally’ making you take more than you could handle was too high, even if you did try to take control. so to work around this problem, you opted to get a bit creative with your methods.

mykolas didn’t quite understand what was going on at first when you bent over in front of him, pants pulled down to your knees. but when you guided him between your legs and clamped your thighs around his length, you could tell the switch in his brain had flipped and he completely allowed instinct to take over. you had no clue just how good it’d feel when mykolas’s hard, wet cock rutted against you relentlessly until he was gripping your waist and pulling you against him, fucking your thighs like you were his living fleshlight. but fuck, the way he managed to slide against every sensitive spot he had access to despite his carnal state was nearly driving you insane. and mykolas delighted in the way you clawed at the ground and mewled for him, your voice so pretty when you stammered out his name. it didn’t take long for either of you to cum at that rate.

despite the mess mykolas made of your thighs and stomach, though, he wouldn’t let you get off him. he’d been pent up for so long, repressing his desire to mate with you, he couldn’t just stop there! so he went again, and again, humping you in any position he could think of, pinning you down, thoroughly wrecking you as best as he could. you were gonna be in for a rough mating season now that mykie knew how to relieve himself with you — but you didn’t mind, he assumed. you were the one that showed him how to feel better, after all.

3K notes · View notes

kaicubus · 1 year

Text

Shoplifting | Wayne M.

warnings ✩° : smut, cursing, partial exhibitionism, fucking in a public place but in a private setting, enclosed space intimacy, p in v, unprotected sex bc i forgot to write a condom in, cursing.

pairing ✩° : wayne x fem!reader, characters are of age and NOT minors.

premise ✩° : known to be a bit of a kleptomaniac, you go to the mall with wayne in hopes of stealing some pricey clothes from a store only to find the two of you locked inside a changing room. what better to do than to take advantage of the situation?

word count ✩° : 4.8k

authors note ✩° : guys writers block is real. finishing this was HELL. might take a short break...just like this fic tho it’s short and rushed...i need my smut writing skills to improve IMMEDIATELY.

There’s something about the color orange that sticks out to you. Most people don’t like it, some do, but only because they’re taught it means warmth like summer or sweet like a tangerine. But you always thought orange was just a really nice color, no explanation. That’s why you chose it.

It was found on a rack in one of the most expensive stores in the mall that was known for its wide, yet very exclusive, selection of tops and lingerie. Victoria’s Secret.The prices in that store are always really high, so you just like to browse. Or at least that’s what you make it seem like.

Truth is, being a bit of a kleptomaniac has its perks. You don’t even think twice about grabbing tubes of $20 lip glosses or $36 perfumes and sliding them up your long sleeve hoodies or jean pockets. It comes naturally and you are a known prodigy in your craft. Long before anyone can realize or even detect on cameras, you leave with your pockets full of both money and items that would cost a fortune. The mall is your playground, and it’s not hard to get what you want.

Today you came in with your boyfriend Wayne, who’s known to be very strange looking. That’s not a bad thing, since it works out in your favor sometimes when you’re being followed or people try to hit on you or even worse, try and hurt you. But other than that, Wayne is known to be the reason people look the other way or lock their doors and shade their windows. No one knows how loving he is towards you, like a bear drawn to honey. He would do anything for you. But, side by side, it would be hard to go into certain stores without be given weird glances or worse, followed around.

When you first entered Victoria’s secret, you told Wayne specifically to wait outside, but knowing he’d get impatient with you, you gave him a task instead and asked for different sizes of different sets you liked. He gladly accepted, leaving you alone to try on different undergarments and admire yourself in the mirror for as long as two minutes per set. You knew he’d be at a loss without you in a forest of lace and ivory mannequins, and a part of you liked knowing that. You're lost in your own thoughts when you came across the orange and white set, now fitting along the curves of your waist and hugging the plushness of your belly, pinching you in all the right places that only enhances your beauty.

Your eyes trace along the fabric, how the white mesh covers over your barely hidden breasts, little embroidered oranges scattered across it in an orderly fashion. The cuteness of the design completely clashed with the way the bra was manufactured to be what you liked to call a window piece, but it seemed to work really well. You spin around, glancing at the panties from behind and noticing how it straddled your inner thighs and almost pushed out your ass more than usual.

It was a good look, maybe a bit too tight, but it wasn’t constricting. Of course, the price made you gag, making it more appetizing to take off and slip into your tote bag resting on the seat provided in the dressing room you're already in. All you had to do was take off the tag and toss it on the floor, on top of the mirror or something. Luckily for you, taking off tags was one of your specialties, though finding them was a struggle.

You let out a sigh and begin tapping your hand around the usual places where a tag would be : on the side of the underwear, back of the bra, inside of the bra, but none seemed to have the tag. You started to wonder if the tag was already taken off which would make snagging it much easier than you’d hoped until the sharp edge of the thin piece of hard plastic struck the tip of your finger, located on the very back of the bra. Finding the plastic attachment of the tag, your fingers curl around to gain tension and then you start to pull at it, plucking it off easily. In your moment of fumbling however, you notice the doorknob start to jiggle just enough to catch your attention.

For a moment, you freeze. Every nerve in your body tells you to stop even though your thoughts are screaming to move and get the garment off your body, but you don’t move. Your hands stay on the tag and instead, you watch the doorknob slowly turn, painfully staring with an owl like expression, each hair standing upright. That all stopped when the door slowly pushes itself open, revealing a very familiar tattered hand, bruises and cuts all over pale skin, holding two more sizes of the same two piece set you had tried on earlier.

You feel a wave or relaxation wash over your body as your eyes stare into your boyfriend’s dull, grayish eyes that seem to go full and wide when he looks at you. Only this time, his head is just slightly tilted down as he’s busy looking at other bra and underwear sets of the same orange piece.

“I got the other sizes.” Wayne says, “They said all these funny lookin’ numbers, but I just took whatever ones looked like your size and—”

You grab the doorknob quickly and pull Wayne in, shoving him against the wall next to you with a firm hand on his arm in just under a second. Your eyes flare with a flash of anger, anger at Wayne that he managed to scare you so bad, but also anger that you got worked up for no reason. The pounding of your heart in your chest makes you shake.

“Jesus, Wayne! You scared me! I thought you were a worker trying to get in here! They have sensors you know!” You say, still gripping onto him, not even paying attention to the clothing now piled on the floor. “Why don’t you knock first?”

“Why would I knock?” Wayne questions, “And why would a worker be trying to come in here when it says occupied? I thought we weren't doing illegal shit today, we got the money, don’t we?”

Though his questions make sense and have reasoning, you can’t help but remain a little flustered.

For a second, there’s silence between you two. Even if he wasn’t shoved in with you, Wayne didn’t even look down when he was first pulled into the stall with you, and you had completely forgotten you were next to being naked in front of him. You knew that the only thing protecting your dignity and saving you from embarrassment was a thin layer of orange mesh with tiny embroidered oranges. Wayne seemed to know that too.

“You look...pretty.” He says, leaning back against the wall behind him, “I like your oranges.” His awkwardness makes him cringe, but it makes you laugh instead. Wayne wasn’t a smooth talker, so his execution of his compliments hardly made way of what he actually wanted them to be. But he could hardly even focus, especially now.

“Thanks.” You twist around and accidentally brush up against him, “I like it a lot, what other sizes did you get?” You grab the bundle of hangers and hold each one up, looking at the slight difference in the sizing. Wayne had a habit of looking into you while he spoke, you always noticed. When he listened to you talk, and especially when he liked what you were saying, he would subconsciously lean forward, almost as if he was drawn to you.

In that habit, Wayne had forgotten about how close you two are and in leaning forward, ends up stumbling over you and knocking you directly into the wall in front of you. In an attempt to catch himself and not slam the both of you into the wall, his open hands fly to your hips and he quickly grabs onto the sides of your half covered ass.

There were many times where Wayne had touched you like that before, it’s no new news that you two have sex. But this time was different. This time, you guys knew you weren't alone and there were many clueless shoppers and staff around, and for that reason it felt off. Still, the proximity of both you and him closes in a second and by the way you're dressed, and the way he’s so close to you, holding you from behind.

“We should probably pay for this. It’s getting kind of stuffy in here anyways. How much you got anyways?” You turn your head over your shoulder, expecting him to move first, but he doesn't.

“Probably enough to buy this thing for you.” Wayne pinches an orange cream ribbon from the side and drops it back down, “Why oranges?”

“I saw it and it looked cute, does it not? You just said it was pretty.”

He looks at you with the same puppy eyes he always has on and gives a small smile of reassurance, moving his hands up from your hips to the sides of your stomach, slowly traveling up your body.

“You forget we’re kinda in the middle of the mall here?” A grin plays unto your lips and you grab his wrist to stop one of his hands from moving up to your chest.

Wayne lets out a breathy sigh that tickles your ear, and you start to feel his rough and calloused hand start to squeeze and massage your breast. “There’s no one around. Plus, the door’s locked from the outside.”

Pause. “What.”

He looks at you in confusion and stops all movement, tilting his head to the side so his fluffy brown hair spills onto his shoulder. “What?” He doesn’t get it.

“What do you mean the door’s locked from the outside?!“ You spin around and shove your hands against Wayne’s chest, easily moving him out of the way. You wiggle the door knob, and low and behold, “It’s locked!?!”

Wayne rubs his hair back confusingly, “Yeah? I just said that, didn't I?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you were serious! Did you lock it?”

“I didn't, no, but I saw a sign outside that had red marker over a piece of paper. Something about ‘do not enter’ and ‘stall is closed for maintenance and will not close.’ But it was the only one alone from all the others, and I’d be able to unlock it if need be.”

“Wayne! Do you realize that we’re both in here now?!” There was no point in arguing. On one hand, if you argue your way to a loud volume, you both would be found out and arrested for taking tags off of expensive merchandise. On the other, you would most likely rot there until something busted you out. The second option started to seem better than the first, judging by your circumstances. Plus, though anyone with half a brain could read the sign and understand it, but Wayne didn’t have half a brain. He just did what he wanted.

You flash your boyfriend an apologetic look, batting your lashes down and swaying your hips backwards to give yourself some room in the cramped stall. By the way he looks at you back, your heart aches a little for raising your voice.

“It’s not all bad, Wayne.” You touch his arm and smile, “It could be worse. Like, this could be a new changing room and the lock wouldn’t be rusted shut...and...it’d be harder to get out...?” You hide the fact you have no idea what you were saying, only trying to muster something out so Wayne would feel less horrible about himself. It was no use though, the same expression sat on his eyes and down turned lips. But he appreciates it nonetheless.

Wayne nods and looks back into your eyes. You flash him a smile before turning your back towards him, lifting your hair to the side and exposing your ribbon caged back to him. “Can you try and get this thing off? I can’t breathe very well and I’m trying to get the tag off.”

Wayne hesitates. “How’d you even get it on in the first place? I don’t even see a zipper.”

"These things don’t need a zipper. Just a pair of hands to untie it and get it on.”

He shrugs and starts to untie the piece, tugging at thin ribbons and cute lace embroidery, toying at the fabric like some cat batting around a yarn string. When it becomes clear that Wayne doesn’t know what he’s doing in the slightest, you turn around to face him and give him a disappointed look. But, in your attempt to do so, your top instantly falls to the ground, startling both you and Wayne.

“I-I had it.” Wayne chokes out, covering his eyes and desperately trying not to give into any thoughts to look at all the places he shouldn’t.

“It’s fine! Just let me—“ You bend down and try to pick up the top, accidentally bumping directly into Wayne, crashing right against his legs. When you try to stand up, Wayne moves forward to give you more room, but ends up throwing off your balance over all.

“Sorry—It’s just so cramped in here! Here, wait, go over there! No, over there—fine, ok I’ll go! Ugh! Wayne!“ You groan in frustration and finally, manage to stand up. Only, now you’re somehow closer than you were before, only centimeters apart to Wayne’s face, who’s now up against a wall, halfway down it.

His hands twitch as they lay on the smoothness of your thighs, giving into the slightest touch and only itching to have more. He quickly finds it in himself to pull you closer, bumping your exposed chest into his clothed one, not caring or even paying any mind to your nudity. He only curls his fingers of his unoccupied hand into your hair, reaching up and gently closing the gap between you.

You hadn’t realized before just how soothing Wayne’s kisses were. In fact, they were the only thing keeping you from freaking out, quite literally naked and full of anxiety that someone could walk in and see you both. But all fear washes out as soon as Wayne reminds you, yet again, to keep your attention on him.

It’s hard to focus on just him though, with people talking around you, the sound of metal hangers gliding across racks

He spoke slowly, “Can I?” asking for permission. With a head nod, you agree and maybe without thinking, you lean forward and kiss him again.

With no room to make any sound or talk after that, Wayne pulls you onto his chest, hoisting you up just enough so he can hold you with both arms. Even when his eyes are closed, he still knows the way to your body as if they were wide open. He begins to move his hand south, brushing his rough skin against your smooth body, tangling his digits in the spaces of the orange silk. You can feel his chest expand as a sign of his impatience, wasting no time to pry the fabric off your lower half.

You let him do all the work, since you have no room to, and feel as he undoes his own belt and shags it down just enough so the rough denim of his jeans hangs off his hips, enabling a window of his boxers to be seen. Even though you're too busy trying to stay quiet, the scene is all too familiar, you can practically see everything. Wayne hurriedly takes himself out, fixing his hold on you as he releases his cock out of it’s confinement, and wastes no time to press against you.

As you look down, the sight of his tip already soaked in precum makes your heart flutter. It’s just as hard and erect as you thought it’d be, seeing as the effects of your outfit must have worked like a charm.

“I uh...I thought of—” Wayne opens his lips and tries to say, his voice an level higher than a whisper.

“Shh!” You hush, already somehow winded, “Shut up.”

Wayne presses his lips together and nods, a bit stunned from your hostility. But there was no room to be nice, there was no room to do anything at all. Almost instantly, his big hands ride the saddle of your hips and he snaps back into motion.

“Hm!” You let out a small yelp as Wayne enters his way into you, pushing the lacy material of the orange underwear to the side, he uses the tip of his cock to part your legs open, his size stretching you just enough to send both of you over the edge. He waits for a second, just to catch his breath, and watches you as you adjust to his size. He’s always been a bit too big for a daily fuck, but you barley paid any attention to it. When you’ve caught your breath, you look up at Wayne and give him a nod, silently telling him that you’re ready for him to move. He nods back which moves the choppy bangs in front of his eyes to sway forward.

His pace is slow, at first, not wanting to hurt you but also a bit rushed, seeing as the public place isn’t the most convenient to share an intimate moment with. But seeing as you hadn’t planned it at all, you had little room to complain.

Even with what little room you have, you find yourself subtly grinding back on Wayne’s groin, not even thinking. The small movement makes him throb inside of you, an uncontrollable response. Before you two know it, you pull away and gasp for air, hot breaths meshing together as you try and catch what little oxygen the room has to offer. It’s stuffy, so it doesn’t help the rising temperature between you, and the heat emitting off your bare chest makes it worse.

Wayne watches as a string of saliva connects from his lips to yours and breaks instantly, effectively making your lips wetter and rosier than usual. The sight makes his heart pound. You barely register his expression before he moves again, rutting himself against you like a depraved animal.

Not wanting to make a sound, two hand covers your mouth as Wayne starts to thrust his hips into yours, hard and deeply. Wayne can’t move as much as he’d like, if he had the opportunity, he’d absolutely ravage you like he usually does, savoring each moment and taking it slow. Once he grabs hold of your hips and starts moving your body against his, the combination turns deadly.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight but Wayne refuses to look away. His icy brown eyes practically glued on your eyelids beg for you to open yours and just look at him.

Labored breathing works its way out of Wayne as you writhe under his touch, scraping your nails into his back, even with a shirt on, managing to make a few red marks that’ll sure to appear later. He didn’t mind, Wayne’s only concern was fucking you as quick as possible and then find a way to get out of the dressing room without being noticed. But how can he think clearly when all he can hear is the struggled, barley muffled noises coming from your mouth?

“Open your legs a little.” You can barley hear his voice, it’s so quiet. He must’ve actually listened. “Right there, just like that.”

It feels too good. Better than usual in fact, to the point where the idea of stopping or slowing down quickly fades out of the picture. All of Wayne’s lack of reason only clouds his head and encourages him to speed up his pace, using a firm hold on your chest with the crook of his arms to hoist you up and arch your back manually for him to get in a better angle. You never thought it was possible to be this overwhelmed with everything all at once. Jolting downwards more, you let out uncontrollable moans, just barely being muffled by the palm of your hand to attempt to conceal your location as best as you can. Still though, Wayne remains completely unbothered and continues to thrust into you, the sides of his length rutting against your walls as loud as he can possibly make it.

A bit of frustration takes control as you twist over your shoulder, giving him an annoyed expression as he looks at you with a heavy-lidded stare of confusion. It’s moments like these where you wished he had a bit more common sense than what he had by default.

“S-Slow down! I can’t keep up!” You groan out, shuffling back into him to try and bump your hips with his.

Wayne grips your hips closer, harder, which makes you moan out again, only louder, and encloses the distance between your mouths with his lips on yours. You struggle to find the right part of him to grab on, slapping your hands on his chest, arm, and finding his back that eventually satisfies as a place to hold on to. He, instead, finds the underside of your thigh. The feeling of his fingers pressing lightly into your sensitive skin makes the hair stand on your body, losing grip on his back, turns into frantic touching.The sting of his nails digging into your flesh makes your head spin and very quickly forget all sensibility, allowing him to speed up again.

You can only hear the creaking of the feeble, obviously run down condition of the stalls next to you, as well as a bit of tapping from the metal lock clanging together.

With every sharp thrust, Wayne hoists you up, shoving you against the wall in front of you. He doesn’t mean to, but it’s enough to send all sorts of vibrations of heat to your core, basically slamming arousal into you each time. Wayne stares at your hands clamped over your mouth, eyes full of tears from the heightened feeling inside your stomach. You can’t bear to look at him anymore in fear of cumming too early, to which he’s well aware of, yet he pushes you against the wall one last time, nearly tossing you off the edge.

”Y-You're making too much noise—” You tear your hands away from your mouth for a second, just to protest his roughness, but Wayne takes the chance and plants his pliant lips against yours. When his mouth meets yours, his tongue roughly licks down, making a wet plucking sound when he pulls away, only to repeat several times.

“Someone might hear us, just w-wait a second!” You clench down around his cock, locking your thighs around Wayne’s waist to try and get him to slow down. But it doesn’t help.

You feel yourself spiraling, head reeling, as Wayne hurries his hips against yours and pounds into you, over and over again, just rocking you back and forth as quietly as he can. But even he can’t think right now, so he doesn’t even count how many ‘accidental’ times he’s made a loud squeak or shuffled his shoes against the floor to get a better hold on you.

Your walls tighten and suddenly you’re seeing nothing but the surface of Wayne’s shoulder, biting down on the thin fabric of his t-shirt, “Oh fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!” The taste of cotton laps over your taste buds, but even that isn’t enough to ignore the feeling of Wayne speeding up, now desperate to chase the high you both have worked so hard to finish.

He moans in pleasure and starts to pepper your bear shoulder in sporadic kisses, biting and marking down on your skin to silence himself just enough to last for a few more seconds. Just a few more.

Just a few more was all it takes before the pleasure finally collapses and so do you, right onto Wayne. He finally stops all movement and lets you ride out your orgasm, slowly pumping in and out of you to finish himself off as well. You want to cry, you want to curse, you want to scream his name but all you can do is sit as silently as you can on his arms, holding onto your mouth for dear life. Wayne huffs with his voice, raw with restraint and gruff with passion, watching your sad attempts at trying to keep it all together despite his cum filling every gap of your body up. “M-Mhm! Mh mh!” You let out a segmented sigh, your breath falling short on and dying half way. When Wayne pulls your body off of him, just enough for his cock to spring out of your insides, you can feel a bit of slick leak down the side of your trembling leg. You dare not make another noise.

You break away panting, maintaining eye contact with Wayne as he rubs his hands all over your body, almost apologetically for making so much noise. You can hardly see straight since all the blood in your body seemed to go directly to your head. For a second, there’s silence, a time to actually catch your breath without worrying someone is waiting outside for you. You glance up at Wayne, who’s gasping for air as much as you are, smiling, “Let’s never do that again.”

Wayne laughs a bit and bites his bottom lip. You can barely move from the pure ecstasy as he sets you down gently, legs suddenly losing their solid form and quickly turning into jelly. You cling onto him for stability and quietly look up at him again, to which he gives an understanding head nod.

Wayne goes to kiss you but suddenly gets interrupted by a knocking from outside.

“Excuse me?” A voice says, accompanied by the faint jingle of keys on a key ring.

“SHIT!” You mouth, profanity now spilling out of your lips faster than ever. A flicker of panic splashes across your face as the subtle sound of the door unlocking fills every gap and space in the small room. Wayne goes to turn around to hide but ends up bumping into the wall, cursing a bit as well before spinning back to you with his hand on his head.

“There’s a uh. Wall there. Just in case you didn’t know.” He whispers.

“I KNOW THERE’S A FUCKING WALL THERE JUST GIVE ME MY CLOTHES!” You demand with an open hand.

It doesn’t feel real, but just in the amount of time you have, you manage to throw on your jeans over your shifted orange underwear and shirt, stuffing the orange lingerie top from the ground into your regular bra. Fuck knows that you aren’t leaving this trapped hell without a free souvenir to take home.

Right when everything makes it way onto your body, you straighten your posture and turn to face the locked door, feeling all sorts of rushes of emotions. Fear, panic, pleasure, worry, relief, all pumping at an all time high.

“Looks like you two got locked in!” The voice laughs, key clicking into the jammed lock with a rusted, silver key. And just like that, light flows into the darkened room and nearly blinds you both. Just as the light pours in, the friendly face of a young worker does the same, her thin lips spreading across her high strung cheeks, happily, looking at two people with stray hairs flying all over the place and flushed faces.

“When my boss told me she saw two people come in here on the cameras, I didn’t believe it!” The worker laughs, clacking her keys back onto her belt, “The sign must’ve fell off or something. So sorry for the inconvenience, we’ll give you both a discount for any item you purchase today!” She bows her head apologetically, “Let’s get you out of here, I’m sure you’ve been waiting for a while now, huh?”

“R-Right. Sorry, we just...we lost our way a bit, but thank you for letting us out. I was convinced I was going to die in there.” You give a half hearted chuckle, just to appear like a normal, functional person.

“No worries at all! Let’s get you two rung up if you're both ready to check out?”

You nod and start walking out, Wayne following behind you, “More than ready.”

As you two follow the worker, you notice Wayne lag a little bit behind. You stop for a second to grab his hand, securing him in his rightful spot next to you, rather than behind. He gives you a smile, to which you both share. The moment was over for sure, and hopefully there isn’t another time that would ever happen like that again. You let out a sigh of relief and Wayne notices, leaning down to say something,

“Maybe we should do it out in public more often. That was fun. Don’tcha think?”

#kaicubus #kaicubus requests #wayne #wayne series #wayne x reader #wayne mccullough #wayne imagines #wayne mccullough imagine #wayne mccullough x reader #wayne mcullough smut #wayne mccullough x y/n #fanfiction #wayne fic #wayne x you #smut #smut fic #wayne smut #smut fanfiction #x reader smut

1K notes · View notes

halfvalid · 7 months

Text

the blade daughter, pt. 2

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 8k this part

description: after joining the straw hats on board the going merry, you're confused as to what to do with your life from now—and you can't help but get closer to zoro.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, slow burn, patching of wounds

author’s note: second chapter! i hope you like it <3 out of the three this one's probably my favorite personally, i really like the wound-stitching scene & i think it's one of the best scenes ive ever written. i'm suchhh a slut for the patching up of wounds trope.

You rose before the sun, careful to pack your belongings all in one sack. Considering the very little amount you’d brought, it was a relatively easy task—leaving the sloop would be fine, too, as you paid for the slip for a few months longer at least. Your father had so many ships across so many seas it hardly mattered much anymore.

You double-checked that you had all of your things before shutting down and leaving the sloop, consulting some of the dock men to transfer a boat lift under the berth. You moved carefully across the east port, making quick time as you returned to the Straw Hats’ ship in slip fifty-two.

There were apparent signs of life when you reached the ship, even with the sky cast over in dark hues of navy. All of the dead bodies had been removed, for one, and dock men were loading barrels up on the deck while Sanji watched over them. His expression brightened as his gaze fell across you.

“Lady Dracule!” he called out, slipping off from the barrel on which he’d been perched to meet you at the pier. You gave him an unimpressed look.

“I have a name, you know.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware of that,” Sanji answered, a lopsided grin pulling up the side of his face. You rolled his eyes and introduced yourself, which only prompted a brighter smile and a steady pat of his hand on your back. “A fine name, for a fine woman.”

“Sanji, stop flirting with the crew.” You glanced up to see Nami, one hip cocked to the side with her hand on her waist, staring down with an exasperated glint in her eye. “Welcome aboard the Going Merry. Sorry I was a little grouchy last night. I don’t like having my sleep interrupted.” She leaned down to offer you her hand, and you took it, climbing aboard the ship.

“The Going Merry?”

“Fits it, don’t you think?” Sanji asked from behind you. Nami eyed him again, volume dropping as she tilted her head towards yours.

“He’ll quit with the sweet talk eventually. I’ll give you a tour once we’ve cast off. We’re just waiting for Zoro to get back from town, and then we’re all set.” She turned to bark out another few orders to Sanji— “Finish up with the crates already!”

“Anything you want, madam,” Sanji said with a little bow. Nami let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Luffy already prepared a room for you. I’ll show you to it.” She led you below deck, back towards the ship’s aft. There was a collection of rooms all crammed together, one beside the other. “These are the women’s quarters. Men’s’ are all the way at the front of the ship.” She nodded behind her. “You get this one here. Sorry, it’s small.”

She opened the door to the very last room, and you stepped inside, surveying your surroundings. It wasn’t much; the cabin barely scraped by as a room, consisting of only a wardrobe, a hanging bed, and a small table and chair stuck in the corner. A round window at the very edge of the room revealed the water just a mere few feet below.

“It’ll do fine, thank you,” you said. Your room back at home was far more ornate, but you’d never been picky.

“You can sleep for a few more hours,” Nami said, lingering by the cabin mouth. “Come find me when you’re ready for a tour. We should be setting off in a few moments, if Zoro’s back.”

You gave her a smile, and she left, the patter of her footsteps dying off as she walked further and further away.

It didn’t take you long to get arranged, and afterwards, you gingerly sat down on the bed, the rope tied to the ceiling causing it to sway under you. You were still uncertain about boarding the ship, but you couldn't exactly return to your sloop now. And it wasn’t the worst idea in the world, you tried to convince yourself.

You felt the ship start moving just a few moments later, and you stood up, walking across the rocking ship to get up to the deck. You were making fast time, Loguetown’s silhouette rapidly getting swallowed in the gulp of the horizon.

Nami was bickering with Zoro and Luffy when you found her. “What even took you so long? We were due to leave a half-hour ago.”

“I was getting new swords,” Zoro said calmly. Nami eyed him, then yanked something out of his hand. A wallet, it looked like, stuffed with bills of berry. “You can’t be mad at me. I spent less than half of your budget.”

“They scammed you,” Nami scoffed, eyeing the katanas at Zoro’s hip. Zoro simply shrugged. “A sword for free? It’s probably made of plastic.”

Zoro snorted. “I’d be able to tell.”

Nami cast him a look, gaze unimpressed under the line of her eyelashes. “You can’t tell the difference between a ship mast and a tree.”

“Yeah, but I know swords.”

“Oh, hey!” Luffy, who’d seemed tuned out of his crewmates’ conversation, said as he spotted you. “Glad to see you here. Officially part of the crew.”

“Oh, well…” you hesitated. “Not so sure if I’ll be joining you forever.” Luffy looked confused by that, but not particularly offended—Nami and Zoro had turned to watch you, too, argument dying on trembling legs. “Right now the plan is to help you get to the Grand Line. From there you can drop me home. And then we’ll part ways.”

“If you change your mind…” Luffy trailed off, then patted you on the shoulder. “Nami, were you going to show her around?”

“I was, but I’ve got some mapping to do.” Nami glanced over at Zoro. “Hey. Make yourself useful.”

“I hate you,” Zoro muttered. He brushed past you, just barely motioning with his head for you to follow. “Afterdeck.”

You stepped into the small space. It was easily the most secluded place on the ship deck, decorated with three young tangerine trees in white boxy planters. “I like your trees.”

“They’re Nami’s trees.” Zoro gestured with his head again, and you followed him. The tour was brief; Zoro didn’t have much to say, generally just showing you a room before telling you what it was and departing for the next area.

You were about halfway through the tour when Zoro spoke again, the words abrupt in his throat. He spat them out rather than spoke them, and you got the impression he’d been mulling over talking for a while— “You ever beat your dad in combat?”

You snorted. “No.”

Zoro didn’t look at you, opting instead to push through the next doorway and gesture vaguely around him to show you the surroundings. “Gotten close?”

“Never.” You shrugged. “He taught me the basics, but I wasn’t the best student. He’d try to be strict and everything, but… sword fighting isn’t really my thing. You’re probably better than me.”

Zoro gazed at you skeptically. “He taught you.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you—” He paused, mouth open for a moment before resuming his sentence. He didn’t sound particularly hesitant, but the pause had you stifling a smile anyway, knowing he was at least a little bit flustered. “We should train together.”

“Was that a question?”

“Not really.” Zoro’s lip quirked, one side of his mouth tugging upwards in an odd semblance of a smile. He didn’t seem the type to smile often, though, so it didn’t look out of ordinary on his face. “Have you seen enough of the ship yet, or do you want me to show you the bilge too?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you answered primly. “Now did you want to fight me or not?”

Zoro actually smiled at that.

You decided to train on the main deck, in an area wide enough to not bump into anyone else. You shed your jacket, pulling Hiru out of its scabbard. Zoro winced as the sun hit the silver blade, reflecting a blinding gleam off its surface. “That a stylistic choice?”

“I polish things when I get anxious,” you answered. “So not really.”

“Right.” Zoro untied a black bandana from where it was fixed on his bicep, fingers working fluidly against the knot. Once he got it untied, he wrapped it around his head, tying it carefully around his head. Afterwards, he slid one of his swords out of its scabbard, holding it with his fingers to follow with the other. “How low should my expectations be?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” you answered. Zoro let a soft sound out through his mouth, but he said no more, transferring one sword to each hand. He moved carefully, arms arching over his head to lower to each of his sides. You lifted Hiru up, more casual in your movements than Zoro was.

You paid more attention to Zoro than the actual fight when you started moving. You figured you’d have time to genuinely practice later—you hadn’t kept a close eye on the swordsman in the battle against the pirate hunters, and your curiosity was eating at you. Zoro was all angles when he fought, elbows lifted and limbs pin-straight. That wasn’t to say there was no flexibility in his movements, though—he dodged your oncoming attacks easily, sidestepping with a light twist of the torso so your blade cut air instead of flesh.

Just a few seconds in you could tell Zoro was far, far better than you. You parried one of his attacks, gasp ripping from your throat as you just barely managed to block off a slash from his katana with Hiru. He spun towards you, careful not to actually cut as his blade came for the throat. You managed to dodge just in time, moving backwards with a quick patter of your feet against the wooden deck.

There was barely anything skewed in his motions, you were soon to realize. He was perfect in every sense of the word. Your styles were vastly different, of course—Zoro mainly relied on his blades, and his physicality was carefully practiced, no curves or bends apparent in the straight lines and slants of his body. In comparison, you were much more slippery, focusing mainly on your agility to carry you throughout a fight rather than your strength.

“Your elbow,” Zoro said. You barely managed to respond, letting out a grunt of effort as you blocked Zoro’s oncoming attack.

“Hm?”

Zoro’s katana came from the left. He used the other one to knock your arm up, nearly gentle in his movements, and you were reminded of how Mihawk used to train you—stopping mid-fight to reposition your limbs, using his sword to carefully push your hands in the right places. “You’re dropping it.”

“I don’t care much for angles,” you answered, ducking under Zoro’s incoming blade and sliding off to the side instead of trying to shove against it. Zoro seemed startled by that, struck off-balance as he stumbled, turning to face you.

You jerked your sword towards him, one leg coming up to shove against his torso whilst doing so. You managed to knock him fully off-balance then, and he staggered against his feet, teetering precariously backwards. “Your center of gravity is screwed.”

“You dad kept flinging me around the pier,” Zoro said. You raised your brows, the phrase nonsensical to your ears. But it did sound like Mihawk. “It run in the family?”

“Very funny.” You dodged another slash of Zoro’s swords. “The only thing I picked up well in our lessons was about keeping balance.”

“And dodging, apparently.” You snickered at that, parrying another one of Zoro’s attacks—but it was getting harder and harder, what with the immense strength of his body you simply couldn’t keep up with. As flexible as you were, you weren’t quick enough this time, and Zoro swept you off your feet so you fell to the ground, wind bursting out of your chest all in one rush. Hiru clattered a few feet away, your fingers unfolding from their grip and letting it move freely.

Zoro slid his swords back in their sheaths, letting them close with a satisfying click. “You fight too defensively.”

You lay there for a moment, trying to gather air back into your lungs. “Never found a point in attacking others, really.” You got up, straightening your shirt before bending over to pick Hiru up from the floor. “Good fight.”

“Yeah,” Zoro said, but his voice was weak, tapering off to blend in with the wind. He had an uncertain look on his face, big brown eyes all fuzzy around the edges, like there was some cloudlike film covering him from seeing properly. You frowned at him.

“Is that because I’m worse or better than you expected?” you asked, gesturing vaguely up at his expression. Zoro blinked, the fog over his eyes clearing as he glanced down to meet your gaze. You waited expectantly, but he didn’t say anything. “Zoro?” you prompted.

“Sorry,” Zoro said. “I’m—I’m going to go to my cabin.”

You watched him leave, growing more quizzical by the second. Well, you’d gotten what you’d come there for, anyway. Roronoa Zoro was a great swordsman. And he certainly had the potential to be the greatest in the world, too—a realization that shook you a little, heart trembling from where it was fixed in your chest cavity. You swallowed hard, mind replaying the firm motions of his body from the fight. He’d been confident, sure of himself. You had even forgotten he still hosted Yoru’s slash along his torso from just a week or so prior, he’d been so… perfect.

“He’s good, huh?”

You startled, turning to see Usopp sitting atop a pile of crates like a king on a throne. He was picking at his fingernails. “Zoro,” he clarified. “Best swordsman in the East Blue.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing over at where Zoro had left. “He is.”

Usopp eyed you for a moment. “Your shell phone is ringing.”

You startled, patting down your figure before finally unearthing your phone from where it was tucked safely away in your pocket. You opened it, pushing the den den mushi in your ear as it vibrated, little mouth making soft rumbling sounds to catch your attention. Usopp clearly didn’t know a thing about privacy, though, because he kept watching even as you picked up— “Hello?”

“Back home yet, darling?” Mihawk asked over the line, and you relaxed, your entire body going slack with comfort as you heard the familiar low hum of your father’s voice. “I figured you’d go back as quickly as possible.”

“No, actually,” you said. “Luffy roped me into coming aboard his ship.”

You could practically see Mihawk’s brows lift up in surprise. “You joined the Straw Hat pirate’s crew?”

“No. They’re bringing me home. I’m helping them get to the Grand Line,” you corrected. Mihawk hummed, the sound a crackle of monotony through the den den mushi’s mouth.

“And why, pray tell, would you do that?”

You chewed at your bottom lip, glancing off the side of the Going Merry to the East Blue. The sun had risen fully, fixing itself in a warm beam in the sky. “I was curious about Roronoa Zoro. You never told me why you left him alive. Or why you let Luffy go.” You could still feel Usopp’s gaze on you while you spoke, and you just knew he’d be telling the rest of his crew this after your conversation finished. “So I wanted to figure out your reasoning.”

“Ah,” Mihawk said. “Has he healed from Yoru’s wound yet?”

“It’s not like I tore off his shirt to check, dad,” you muttered. Mihawk barked out a laugh, and you startled at the sound before settling down again. “He walks fine. I saw bandages.”

Mihawk seemed pleased by that. “Wonderful. He’s a hardy one. You should fight him.”

“Already did,” you answered. “He beat me.”

Mihawk considered that for a moment. “Eh, I saw that coming.”

You scoffed. “You have no faith in me. Where are you now?”

“South Blue, still,” Mihawk replied. “Are you at least enjoying yourself there? It’ll be good for you to make friends, sweetheart. You don’t get much social interaction other than me and the villagers, after all.”

“I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to get a ride home,” you said insistently, but your voice was weak, and Mihawk clearly didn’t believe you. Your mind wandered back to Zoro—the firm muscle of his body, the hushed tone he spoke in, and you found your face pinkening. “One of them—one of them wants to kill you. That’s his entire life’s purpose. To murder you.”

“I think you’re being a tad bit broad, darling,” Mihawk said with a click of his tongue. “You seem rather enamored with this particular young swordsman. Something to say?”

“I—” your words fumbled in your mouth, and you were certain you were entirely pink now, the sun’s glowing rays only making your face warmer than it was rapidly turning. “Stop. I’m hanging up now.”

Mihawk’s voice was tastefully dry when he responded. “I’m sure.”

“Shut up, old man,” you grumbled.

“Right. Remember the rule, dear,” Mihawk trilled, and despite his voice being as monotone as ever, you could still identify the undertones of it—laced with syrupy mocking, all teasing and dramatic. “No dating unless he can beat you in combat!”

You actually did hang up this time, practically tearing the den den mushi out of your ear. You huffed out an irritated breath, rubbing a circle into the shell of your snail as an apology just a moment later. “Sorry,” you murmured. “My dad’s a bitch.”

The snail just let out a little grumble in response. You tucked it back into its case and snapped the phone shut.

“Aw, we’re not allowed to say hi?” You spun around at the new voice, glaring upon seeing Sanji and Luffy having joined Usopp in his eavesdropping. Sanji bore a gigantic grin on his face. “Sounded like an interesting conversation.”

“None of you know what boundaries are,” you muttered, but it was light-hearted.

You didn’t see Zoro until suppertime, a fact that rang odd in your head. It seemed like he’d completely evaporated from the ship, disappearing around every corner as you spent the rest of the day getting to know the rest of the crew better. Something had happened, but you weren’t exactly sure what—and you weren’t exactly sure if you were close enough to him to even ask, yet.

Sanji had cooked up a dinner so fine you doubted it could even quality as ship food. From your time traveling with your father, rations on-board hadn’t been much of anything—a few scraps of bread or dried meat, old apples, perhaps some fish if you were lucky. Mihawk hadn’t the biggest priority on eating well, but the Straw Hat crew seemed to have the exact opposite opinion. You were served a bowl of miso soup along with a bowl of rice, and dishes of tofu and oyster sauce stir-fried vegetables were carefully laid out all across the table.

“Bon appétit,” Sanji said, taking a half-bow before slipping into the last seat around the table. “I hope it’s to your liking. Yours especially, Lady Dracule.” He gave you a little wink at that. You just stared at him.

“I thought I told you my name.”

“Well, you did, but I thought Lady Dracule had a nice ring to it.”

“It doesn’t,” you said. Nami stifled a snort, the hand not holding her chopsticks coming up to cover her mouth. Sanji didn’t look the slightest bit dissuaded. You turned your attention on Zoro, who hadn’t spoken a word throughout the whole meal. He was rather studiously focused on his bowl, eyes picking apart the grains of rice like they’d reveal the world’s greatest secrets.

Carefully, you leaned towards Nami, voice coming out in a hushed whisper. “Is he okay?”

“He gets like that sometimes,” Nami answered, her words drowned out by Usopp and Luffy’s cheerful conversation. “Nobody can crack him except for Luffy. I’d just leave him be.”

“You don’t know why?”

Nami just shrugged. “Hell, we’re all depressed sometimes. Not within my rights to question him.”

You nodded, but your gaze didn’t move away from Zoro’s figure. There was a particular squeezing sensation deep in your chest—a little flip-flop thing, a sort of panging you couldn’t quite place. He glanced up, dark eyes meeting yours for just a fraction of a second. But he didn’t flinch away. He just returned your gaze, strong and unblinking.

To your surprise, Zoro was the first to look away, craning his neck to study his bowl again and continuing on like your extended bout of eye contact hadn’t even happened. You watched him, dumbstruck, until Nami nudged you in the shoulder. The rest of the group’s idle chatter had died down, and Usopp and Sanji were staring at you, low murmurs falling out of their mouths. You cleared your throat, finally dropping your gaze from the green-haired swordsman and attempting to ignore the fact everyone had caught you staring.

You didn’t do much of anything after supper—you just returned to your cabin, carefully walking across the creaking boards of the ship. Luffy assigned you mid watch, so you had a few hours to sleep before waking up at midnight to look out for any enemies.

You couldn’t find yourself falling asleep even after you’d slipped into bed. You’d changed, a loose blouse light against your skin, black silk shorts grazing your thighs. It was cold out, so you shrugged on a robe as you headed out into the darkness of the Going Merry. You emerged out on the deck, taking in a breath of the night air as you glanced to see who had the night watch.

Just your luck. It was Zoro.

He seemed tranquil, lounging across a hammock with his white sword—the Wado Ichimonji—cradled in his arms. In the dim light you couldn’t see if his eyes were open or closed, but as you got closer, he cracked one of them open, a gleam reflecting off his right iris. “Hi,” you said, moving over to the side of the ship to watch the waves on the water.

Zoro didn’t deign to respond, so you just stood there, watching the sea lap at the side of the ship until eventually the hour struck twelve. Zoro left soundlessly. You stayed awake all throughout your watch until Usopp came to relieve you of your duties.

Zoro was avoiding you.

A few days had passed since you first boarded the Going Merry. They hadn’t been of much interest—just days of practicing with your sword and chatting with the crew, for the most part. You helped around the ship, completing various tasks apparently none of the members knew or cared enough to do. You were just emerging from the bilge, having done basic maintenance to ensure everything was working properly, when you bumped into him. The man was apparently taking a nap, though you couldn’t figure out why the storage area was a very good place to sleep. Still, he seemed comfortable enough, long body splayed along a grouping of crates.

“Hi,” you said, for what seemed like the hundredth time over a few days. Zoro just averted his gaze and let out a little grunt in response. You stared at him for a moment. The realization had dawned on you ever since the first day, but it was growing more and more apparent, and you were baffled as to what you’d done to incur the silent treatment.

“Hi,” you repeated, more purposefully this time.

“Hey,” Zoro said, though the word was clearly bitter in his mouth. You propped your hands on your hips and stared down at him.

“You’re avoiding me.”

Zoro closed his eyes, expression not even changing. “You’re not that special.”

“Ever since we fought that one time, you’ve been ignoring me,” you barreled on, entirely ignoring his quip. Zoro cocked a brow, eyes still closed, and you glared down at it. “I’d like to know why.”

“Why do you care? We’re not friends.”

“Isn’t it natural to want to know why someone is mad at you?” you demanded, perplexed. Zoro sighed then, shifting around on his boxes.

“I’m not mad at you.” You heaved out a sigh even more irritated than Zoro’s. Your experience in the realm of dealing with close-lipped men’s personal issues was, unfortunately, rather well-seasoned. You’d had to coax situations out of your father, one hand pressed against Yoru’s hilt to prevent Mihawk from lashing out his frustrations rather than explaining them. But that didn’t mean you were all too fond of it.

“Okay, well, why else would you be ignoring me then?”

Zoro’s response was annoyingly frank. “It’s not really any of your business.”

You pursed your lips, trying to suppress the irritated noise that threatened to burst from your throat. “I don’t like being on bad terms with people,” you started. “If I did something to piss you off, I’d very much like it if you—”

The floor slipped out from underneath you before you could finish your sentence. You fell with a graceless clatter, lurching forward into the stack of crates Zoro was leaning on, words dying on your tongue. The entire boat trembled, quivering from side to side as if the ocean waves had suddenly propelled a thousand more ripples at its surface.

Zoro sat immediately up, one hand pushing you off of him as he scrambled off the crates. “What was that?”

“I don’t—” Just a moment after regaining your balance, there was another dull thud and a row of quivers. You remained steady this time, glancing carefully around you before you and Zoro were both hurrying up towards the ship deck. The Going Merry was in chaos when you emerged, Nami at the helm while Sanji was firing up a cannon beside her.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, the tails of your coat lapping around your calves as you hurried up besides Luffy.

“Pirates,” Luffy said grimly, nodding towards a ship that was quickly gaining on you. “They blew through the stern railing. Do any of you recognize the jolly roger?”

You glanced up, taking in the billowing sail boasting a pure-white jolly roger with a top hat and mustache. “Nope. These things are getting more and more ridiculous,” you muttered.

“Yeah,” Luffy agreed, affronted. “Ours is way better.”

You turned your gaze up at the Straw Hat crew’s aforementioned jolly roger. “...No comment.”

“We can’t outrun them!” Nami shouted from her place at the helm. Sanji had successfully nailed a cannonball into the railing of the oncoming ship, but they had a dozen more men. “I’m going to try to get closer. Best chance we have is one-on-one combat.” She turned to fix the small grouping with a glare. “Don’t just stand there. Get to it!”

You launched into action, hurrying to climb up the rigging to get a better view as Nami veered hard to starboard. The enemy ship had dropped their cannons, and you could see them preparing to board the Merry, grabbing onto loose ropes of rigging. “They’re going to swing over,” you reported, watching as the ship tilted in your direction, gaining on you. “I see maybe two or three dozen men.”

You hesitated, glancing around at the rather stationary crew around you. Your lip tugged between your teeth, and you stood there for a moment, unspoken words heavy on your tongue. You could see the captain yelling out orders on the ship across from you, and you turned abruptly, fixing Sanji with a look.

“Sanji, trade with Usopp. I want you to nail a cannon at their port stern.”

“W—What? Me?” Usopp stuttered. You nodded.

“I want Sanji on the frontlines. That should be close enough now.” You gazed out at the rapidly thinning gap between the two ships. One final cannonball whizzed towards, and you ducked, watching as it just brushed the side of the Merry. The ship rocked, and you tightened your grip on the rigging, satisfied to see it’d barely left a mark.

“They’re coming over,” Sanji reported, and you nodded, sliding Hiru out from your scabbard as enemy pirates started swinging over on ropes. Luffy was the first to react, an arching, rubbery limb catching one of them midair and yanking them down into the ocean. Boots thudded on the ground as the enemy pirates landed aboard the Going Merry.

“Time for a fight,” Zoro murmured, barely audible from your left. You jumped down from the rigging, sword coming down to crash against one of the enemy pirates. He reacted slowly, pistol cocking towards your chest—but you just brushed it to the side with Hiru, cutting it straight out his hand and following up with a flurry of sword thrusts.

Besides you, you saw Sanji sliding into battle, spinning on his palms to deliver a mean right hook to someone’s jawbone. An audible crack pierced the air, and you winced, breezing backwards on your feet as two pirates closed in on you.

Luffy seemed to have engaged in a one-on-one with the enemy captain, who was easily identifiable due to the gigantic top hat perched upon his head. He had thick black hair tied neatly back in a ponytail, and a mustache and beard to match. A thick cutlass was tightened in one fist, thrusted towards Luffy—but every sweep was dodged with unbelievable bends of the torso.

You turned your attention away, whipping your sword at the pirates that surrounded you. Hiru clashed with their blades, gleaming silver scraping against theirs. You leaned forward, and the blade before you broke with the pressure, sword snapping under Hiru’s will.

The sword dropped out of the pirate’s hand, and you took the opportunity to pull your leg up, kicking him squarely in the jaw. The other lunged for you, and your fist dug into their torso, hands gripping tight to their belt. You bent over, twisting into his body to push him over your shoulder in a sweeping throw.

He fell to the floor all in one, and you landed a kick to his chest just to ensure he wouldn’t get up again. Another man—bigger, this time, probably half your width and inches taller—gunned for you.

You sidestepped him easily, agility tilting in your favor as you escaped his grasp. It was harder to take this one down—while you could dodge him well enough, and parry his oncoming attacks, he was simply too strong to compete with. Strength isn’t everything, little hawk, Mihawk would always tell you. Everyone has a weakness. Get them off balance. Use your points.

The man delivered a stinging left hook to your torso, and you gasped. He took the opportunity to grab onto your wrist, grip so tight you couldn’t move your hand. Hiru clattered out from between your fingers. You directed a hit with your elbow towards the pirate’s sternum, but it was oddly-placed, and he just sneered down at you.

One of his large fists rose to thud against your skull, and you braced for impact, but the blow never landed. A warm squishing sound of a sword against skin made your entire body shudder, and you turned to stare as your assailant’s head slid cleanly off of his neck.

Zoro was behind him when his body collapsed, sword slick with blood as he spun it lazily around in a hand. “Careful,” he said.

You gaped up at him for merely a second more before you realized your jaw was ajar. You flushed, bending over to fish Hiru up from the floor. “I was fine.”

Zoro just thrust his sword cleanly into the torso of an incoming pirate, eyes not breaking away from yours. He slid it out with a sickening sound, flicking the blood off the blade with a motion of his hand. “A thank you might be nice.”

“Behind you,” you said instead, but Zoro was already reacting. You watched him, an incurable sigh perched on the tip of your tongue. He was good. He was really, really good, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. “Is that most of them?”

“I think—” Zoro cut himself off, glancing over his shoulder as you both hear the familiar yell of Luffy’s voice screaming out one of his final moves. You both watched, soundless, as his foot smashed into the top hat pirate’s face, flinging him all the way across the water straight into the mast of his own ship. Only mere seconds later did the mast crack, the wooden pole falling down in a glorious, wooden heap.

“...Yeah, we’re fine.” Zoro said. He leaned down, grabbing the shirt of one of the fallen pirates to wipe his blade with before sliding it back in its scabbard. “Let’s get out of here.”

“On it.” Nami snapped her bo staff closed—when she’d jumped down into the battle, you were unsure, but she was already returning to her place at the helm. “Toss these bodies off our boat, would you, Zoro?”

“Right.” Zoro bent over, easily picking up the fallen pirate and chucking the corpse overboard without another thought. You watched him the entire time, the strain of his biceps against his skin forming solid ridges up his arms.

“I can clean your swords,” you said, words a bit too late out of your mouth. Zoro glanced up, brow creased. “While you’re doing that.”

Zoro looked uncertain, but he unstrapped the scabbards from his hip, handing the twin katanas to you. You took them, glancing over his figure again. He moved with difficulty, and while you’d originally thought that was because of the bodies’ weight, you now saw the real reason. Lines of crimson were seeping through his shirt, a pool by the left side of his lower abdomen the biggest injured site. You took an involuntary step forward. “You’re hurt.”

“I can treat them later,” Zoro said dismissively. “Gotta clean up the Merry first.”

“No, mosshead, the lady is right,” Sanji said. You startled, not having noticed him slip up beside you. “Usopp and I can manage with waste control, eh?” He winked. “Go clean up.”

Zoro glared at him, the look dripping with malice, but he didn’t argue past that. “Fine,” he said, chucking another body—this one alive—off the side of the ship before straightening. You heard the hitch in his breath as he spoke, along with the near-imperceptible wince of his face. “You good, Luffy?”

“A little hungry,” Luffy responded truthfully. He was still watching the other ship. Fire had started aboard it, and soft billows of black smoke drifted in the air. “Can you cook something up later, Sanji?”

“Got it,” Sanji said. “Tell your first mate to patch up his wound before he bleeds out all over our beautiful deck.”

“The deck isn’t beautiful, it’s got blood and guts all over it,” Zoro muttered.

“Well, have a little respect and don’t add to the mess.” Sanji fixed him with a stern look. Zoro bared his teeth at him in a grimace, extracting a sharp little laugh out of your throat. His eyes brushed over yours, a glimmer of surprise dancing in his irises, before he ducked inside.

“Why are you following me?” Zoro asked flatly, as you entered the cabin he’d gone into. You’d hastened to keep up with him, only a few steps behind before finding the room he’d gone into. Zoro had propped himself up on the hanging bed, loosening the ties of his wrap shirt to expose his bare chest.

“I was wondering if you needed any help with your wounds.” You deposited Zoro’s swords, along with Hiru, on the table in the room, moving closer to him to survey the scene. “If you wanted it.”

Zoro’s gaze met yours, and he said nothing for a moment. “First aid kit’s over there,” he finally said, nodding to the table. You moved towards it, opening up the small box to expose supplies of bandages, needles, stitch string, and disinfectant inside. You carried the box over to the bed, sanitizing your hands before carefully parting the folds of Zoro’s shirt. The cloth stuck to skin, coagulating blood making the shirt peel rather than move. Now that his entire torso was bared, though, you could fully inspect his wounds. There were still bandages from Yoru’s cut, all dirtied up now from his other injuries—you’d have to take them off and re-dress them, so he’d be in the bed for thirty minutes at least.

You turned your attention to the cut by Zoro’s abdomen, deciding it was the most important thing to focus on. The cut wasn’t too deep, but it was gushing a steady flow of blood, and you picked up a towel to press against the wound. “Hold,” you instructed, and Zoro’s fingers brushed against yours as he took a hold of the cloth. “Thanks. I’ve got to take your bandages off, then I’ll clean and dress all the wounds. That one down there might need stitches.”

“How do you know how to do this?” Zoro asked, watching as you unwrapped the previous bandages from around his chest. You were careful to touch his skin as little as possible, distracting yourself with the blood and gauze.

“My dad,” you answered. You’d spent too many late nights patching up a wound Mihawk had brushed off as unimportant, only to wind up bleeding out on your couch. Zoro raised a brow.

“Dracule Mihawk gets injured?”

“Of course he does,” you said with a huff. “Don’t be stupid. He’s a man, just like the rest of you.” The gash from Yoru had fully scabbed over, revealing a long, trembling crust of dark ochre. You finished peeling off all the bandages, and cast them to the side.

“You know a lot.”

“Jack of all trades, master of none,” you quipped. You moved away from the desk to fill a bucket with warm water, dipping a cloth into it and squeezing out the excess. You dabbed around Yoru’s scab with the cloth, careful not to break the shell while still cleaning it of any extra gunk. Then you focused on flushing out the other wounds, wiping across his skin and getting all the little nicks on his chest and arms. Zoro didn’t say a word, but you could feel his eyes boring into your skull, watching you with a hardened intensity that made your insides churn.

You nudged his hand away, examining the big cut. The rag he was holding had filled up with blood, white cotton dyed red and sodden with liquid. Thankfully, the bleeding seemed to have lessened. You wiped up all the last of it with your towel, swiping it against the pills of blood that had caught along the waistband of his trousers. Zoro hissed as you came into contact with the wound. “Sorry,” you murmured.

“Why are you apologizing?”

You frowned at that. “Because it hurt?”

“I thought you were mad at me,” Zoro said stiffly. You raised your brows. “Since… you thought I was annoyed at you, or whatever.”

“Just because you feel a certain kind of way towards me doesn’t mean I reciprocate the same feelings,” you answered, setting aside your towel after deciding everything had been cleaned out well enough. You picked up another cloth, dabbing this one with some alcohol to disinfect the wound. “This is going to sting,” you warned.

Zoro’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding against each other as you flushed out the wound. His torso clenched, and your eyes fell across his exposed midriff, watching the tight skin that was seemingly sculpted into muscles. You glanced away just a moment later, a dusting of warmth brushing over your cheeks. “On that topic,” you hastened to say, trying to distract yourself from the half-naked man in front of you, “Why were you avoiding me?”

Zoro let out a sigh, the sound stuttered as he clenched his jaw again when you brushed your towel against his wound. You waited, taking out a fresh cloth to dab at the other nicks on his body. You examined the wound near his left side again. “Stitches.”

“Great,” Zoro muttered. You ignored him, searching in the kit for some needle and thread. “Can you take the stitches out from your dad’s yet?”

“Ha ha. You’re going to need those for a few more weeks,” you said, without even looking at the scab to check. “Ask me again later. Yoru cuts are deadly.”

Zoro let his eyes flutter closed. “It’s a great sword.”

“Yeah, it is,” you said. You paused from where you were threading the needle, glancing up at Zoro’s face now that you knew he couldn’t catch you staring. He looked so peaceful in this state, eyelashes splayed along his cheeks, dark umber freckles that you hadn’t noticed before splattered across his face. There were dozens of them, skin sun-worn and bearing the marks as proof—constellations of dark brown stars, so similar to his warm, glowing skin it was easy to miss. A five-o’-clock shadow traced around his mouth, and at his left ear, his golden earrings gleamed bright.

“I don’t feel anything,” Zoro said, and you snapped out of your reverie, fingers fumbling to finish threading your needle.

“Patience is a virtue, you know,” you hissed. Zoro snorted.

“Yeah, one I don’t have.” You rolled your eyes, tying off the string and bending down to examine the cut again. It wasn’t too wide—maybe five or six stitches at most. You gave Zoro no warning except for the light brush of your fingers against the wound, and he hissed again.

You glanced up. “Do you want something to bite on?”

“I’m not a toddler,” Zoro sneered. You mouthed his words mockingly, though you didn’t actually speak them, not wanting him to catch you doing such an immature action. You fixed your gaze back on the wound, free hand resting flat against Zoro’s abdomen to steady you—his skin was warm under your palm, and you expected him to say something, but to your surprise, he didn’t even flinch.

The first puncture came carefully. Zoro hissed, the sound of a low rumble in his throat as you felt his abdomen clench under your palm. You forced yourself to continue, pulling the thread fully through the skin before moving onto the other side of the wound. You did it again, carefully to keep the string untangled as it ran through Zoro’s flesh.

“It wasn’t because I was mad at you,” Zoro said abruptly, and you paused, glancing up to look at Zoro’s face. His eyes were still closed, brows contorted tight and mouth bared down into a grimace. “Don’t stop. I wasn’t avoiding you because I was angry. Or because of anything you did.”

“Why, then?” you asked, lowering your head to continue with your stitches. Zoro took in a sharp breath at the next one, the edges of a scream cutting into his breath but not fully escaping from his throat. You were rubbing a comforting circle into his stomach before you could stop yourself—muscle memory from patching up your dad’s wounds. You swallowed hard, but didn’t stop the motions—Zoro didn’t seem offended by them.

His voice was raggedy when he spoke again. “Fighting against you. It reminded me of—my friend, from back then. I told you about her.”

Your lips pursed, but you didn’t stall your actions, running the thread through the hole you’d pricked. “The one you made the promise to?”

“Yeah,” Zoro said, the word falling out all in one breath. You fixed the string tight along the wound, fingers splayed across his stomach warning him for the next puncture. He continued speaking despite it, and your needle hovered over his skin. “We were training together—fuck.”

“Sorry,” you said again, still running your thread through his skin as he heaved out a long, ragged groan from low in his throat.

“We were training together,” he repeated. “Haven’t done that in a while with a girl. So it—” His voice tapered off in another breathy groan. “Reminded me of her. I got bitchy.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” you said. You were getting close to the end of the wound now, but your actions slowed, just to keep him talking—the words came out all harsh and hesitant, and you got the feeling speaking about his past was a laborious task. Might as well let him have the safety of avoiding your eyes like this while he spoke. “Do I look like her or something?”

Zoro huffed out a laugh. “Ha. No.”

“Okay,” you said. You pierced his skin again—he took this one better, muscles clenching as he sucked in hard. You waited until you finished the stitch to speak again. “Are you going to keep avoiding me?”

“No,” Zoro said. His words pierced the air, weighed heavy with a gasp of pain and a hiss, but it still rang sharp in your ears. He eased out a breath, long and soft. “It was unfair. Can’t help it sometimes, that’s all.”

“That’s fine,” you answered carefully. You threaded one last stitch, both of you mute as you tightened the wound closed with the suture and tied it off. You snipped the string with a pocketknife, using another damp towel to clean up any of the excess blood. “I’m going to dress everything with bandages now. Almost done.”

“Okay,” Zoro said. You reorganized your supplies, tucking away your stitching things to replace with bandages and dressing pads. You washed your hands again, then returned to bend over Zoro’s torso. When you did, you were surprised to see Zoro’s eyes had opened, soft brown irises boring into yours. You swallowed, feeling the burn of his gaze into your skin as you stared at the skin of his midsection.

“I’ll do the big one first, then everything else,” you said carefully. You worked in silence, pressing a dressing pad along the wound and tying it off with some gauze to fix it in place. You moved around his body, bandaging up any cuts you deemed worthy until you finally were left with Yoru’s cut.

It stretched the entire expanse of his torso, from shoulder to hip. It’d been well done, the cut deep but not deep enough to kill as long as someone was fast enough with treatment. You recognized the shape of the cut, the very tip of it thin before Yoru’s mouth caught the skin with the center of his blade. “He did it like this on purpose?” Zoro asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s methodical with most things.” You wrapped gauze around the scab, tightening it up and then finally tying it off by his hip. “I’d keep that on for a few days before replacing it. Keep dressing it for another two weeks or so. It’ll probably start swelling soon, so I can help you drain whatever fluid develops.”

“I’ll let you know,” Zoro said. He was still watching you with those big brown eyes, and a soft shiver traced down your spine. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for saving me from that pirate earlier,” you said. You surveyed him again, though you were careful not to meet his eyes. A long silence filled the space, heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. You ducked your head, busying yourself with putting away the first aid kit. The words fell from your mouth before you could stop them— “I like your earrings.”

“Oh,” Zoro said. Nothing else.

You were pretty sure you liked more than the earrings. You liked the way he fought, even if it scared you sometimes—even if you knew one day he’d probably be able to beat your father. You liked his face; those big brown eyes, soulless at times but holding the world in those glistening irises at others. Those freckles, adorned with the entire galaxy, stars and planets and constellations dotting his cheeks like a mural of life. The way he talked, soft-spoken but utterly real, voice low in his throat, words disturbingly honest.

You didn’t say so, though. You stuck with the earrings, because those were safer.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

taglist: @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ellisaworld @yeonieesss @sarcastic-sourwolf @rouzuchan @dashcrashbash @blossomedfloweroflove @ fangeekkk @winuvs @katiemrty @asexualimmortal @fayetheenthusiast @freedom-kitty @ren-ni @je4nc4tb0y @dwcode @albedosfiance @13-09-01 @dimplewonie @cellgore @ shabzy1644 @applepie972 @mayo0ma @smoochesfromlevi @ csmbrainrot @intoanothermind @junieloonie @yourlocalgoose @swthrxrry @lovefooi @dailybrekker @taeriffic @xxemmarldxx @alastorswife63 @butterfliesinthenightsky @mukeovernetflix @wonuskie @mysingularitybts @sorasolarium @chaitea-69 @wishyouwere-sober @mchlist @bibi-bieber-winchester @prowkarma @loveyluv7 @hhighkey @jesssssmaybankk @threadofdestiny @hinata7346 @thevampiricprincess @wreckmyimage @prettyinsatiable @fairygirl18 @idcalol @bangtannie7 @carav4l @kookie-doughs @bluesiebirdie @endeaz @q8852p @addisonwilkins1 @louweasleymalfoy @alelovesmitski

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

814 notes · View notes

mothellie · 24 days

Text

I think the Duffer Brothers' history with racism in their show goes a lot deeper than a lot of people realize.

Lucas as a character has three distinct B plot stories that get assigned to him: being a minor antagonist to Eleven in season one, being a good friend to the rest of the Party, and being in love with his girlfriend. While Mike's plot is directly centered around two of the most pivotal characters of the show, Dustin is given two different role model characters that shape his arc and is overall the genius that helps the rest of the cast get out of several difficult situations, Will still being connected to the Upside Down after his disappearance in 1983 and that playing into several major plots, Max having a multitude of centric storylines especially in season four and Eleven literally being THE main character- Lucas is only ever given plots that help serve and uplift the other (white) characters. Unless you count him... playing basketball and being friends with Jason. I guess?

Erica is similar to Lucas, but to a much larger degree. I'd like you reading this to think of any single Erica standalone plot in the show that has nothing to do with/does not predominantly or solely benefit the white characters around her. I'll wait.

The Sinclair parents are only touched on in brief sections for the sake of filling the episodes, only ever playing a more major role in Season Four. If you could call it that. I'm sure most of you couldn't even tell me their names off of the top of your heads. (It's Charles and Sue, by the way.)

Argyle was the first somewhat major character of color to be introduced to the show after Erica played her part in season three. I could say similar things about his role in the season overall that I can about Lucas and Erica. Except they set him up to play a bigger role in the next season at the end of season four, going as far as to show him in Hawkins and have Jancy verbally allude to him sticking around, only for the show heads to ghost Eduardo Franco and let him find out he wasn't being brought back through an official social media cast photo.

Kali was a former subject from the same lab El came from, having escaped and subsequently began to lead a vigilante life of enacting revenge on those who played a hand in her suffering. She was the first subject El ever met after leaving the lab, shown to be incredibly powerful and strong-willed. Her and El had an immediate connection, calling themselves sisters right after meeting. But after El was finished with her self-discovery period on the S.S. Kali Gang for one (1) often-forgotten and poorly-written episode, Kali was quite literally abandoned both in spirit and on screen, never to be seen or even mentioned again.

All other characters of color are either killed violently (Patrick), have like ten minutes of screentime total (Jeff and Calvin Powell), or are just straight up background only and may not even have names.

They can dedicate an entire section of season four's plot to Suzie's family, but not to genuine character development for Erica or for Kali to return. They can make room for a whole pointless predatory plot between Billy and Karen, but not to give a more important role to the Sinclair parents. They have room to include a whole plot about El getting bullied in school, but not for Lucas to have a more meaningful story outside of his white friends and girlfriend. They can platform three known white zionists while Palestine currently undergoes a gruesome genocide even as I type this, but they don't have room for Argyle in season five (or even the decency to give Eduardo a fucking phone call).

Not only do the Duffers constantly write themselves into holes because they keep adding unnecessary fodder to the plot, and refuse to kill ANY of their main characters in favor of just creating new characters for the sake of killing them off in mediocre ways despite the fact that they're trying to fit 20+ B plots into 8-9 40-50 minute episodes per season and wondering why half their show doesn't make sense- The time they DO dedicate to character-specific B plots and character arc progression visibly favor the white characters.

If I watch S5, and that's a huge if, I will be sailing the high seas. Between all of this, the fact that they filmed part of season four in an old Nazi prison and tried to turn it into a fucking AirBNB, and the fact that at least four people who play major roles in the show actively support the current genocide of Palestine- I won't be giving them (or Netflix for that matter) another cent of my money.

While you're here, please do your completely free daily click to send aid to Palestine, and here's a list of other resources for how to help more directly.

#cassie talks #stranger things #free palestine #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #charles sinclair #sue sinclair #argyle stranger things #kali prasad #patrick mckinney #jeff stranger things #calvin powell #anyway excuse me im gonna go put these characters in an ungodly amount of fics #it's what they deserve

193 notes · View notes

silly-writes · 9 months

Note

What if reader was an old childhood friend of some of the competitors (ie Courtney, gwen, bridgette, Heather, duncan, Izzy, cody, etc) with said character(s) having strong feelings for before reader moved away just to come back into their life during one season with reader initially unaware of these returning feelings in said camper.

Bonus: What if reader/camper did get together in that one season, only for next season to have a love triangle form involving another character. The camper is aware of said triangle forming though reader might be oblivious due to now having eyes only for first camper. What'd this be like for different people?

Compretitors with returning feelings for childhood best friend reader!

u guys r really feeding me with these prompts I can't even lie this one was a little tricky with all these moving parts! Sorry if some of these are a little angsty and don't really have happy (per say) conclusions, but I'm just doing what I think best fits the character! I only write pure fluff if that what im given. I hope you enjoy anyways anon!

Courtney

Courtney is beyond stricken when she sees you.

What are the odds you both would have signed up for the same shitty reality tv show?

Well, high as Courtney would tell you. You always were very similar even back when you were inseparable as children.

You knew Courtney was always very fond of you before you moved away, so the reunion is very sweet, and heartfelt.

The two of you attempt to spend a lot of time catching up on what you missed out on after you had moved, but on the show there isn't much time for it.

Courtney can't help but think about how absolutely heartbroken she was when you moved away.

I would think with Courtney's determined attitude (plus based on what she says to Gwen during their friendship) she has made too many friends.

So when you moved away, especially since she was little, it sort of felt like the end of the world to her.

I imagine you being around is wildly distracting for her. Despite her returning romantic feelings.

You were the only person who ever had that type of close vulnerable relationship with her, she would do anything to please you, receive attention from you, or keep you in the game.

All of it leads to some very undesirable slip ups from her, which with you is how I imagine she goes home on the island.

She watched you as she got pulled away, she's not going to leave it unsaid this time, she remembers what that feels like, she remembers how isolating and awful it feels.

"I'm going to miss you ______!" She called out to you from the end of the doc of shame.

You waved wildly "I'm going to win this for you Courtney!" You call back.

"No- I mean! I'm going to miss you because I'm in love with you!"

You stand there stunned as she boards the boat and calls out one final thing "You had bet your butt you'll win this for me! I just confessed my love to you on live television!"

You try to call back that you feel the same, but Chris does what Chris does best and gets in the way of a good time. Even if the boat hadn't driven her off before you got the chance to confess back, the motor is loud enough to where she probably couldn't hear you anyways.

By action, you two have fully discussed your feelings, and how everything should go now that you're into each other but still competitors.

You both agree that your first real official date should be after the show is over, so while things aren't technically official by next season, you two are undoubtedly interested in each other and therefore not getting involved with anyone else.

You stick true to that, but Courtney can see Duncan keeps looking at you, and she's not stupid, she would know that punks gazes in and out.

She doesn't bring it up to you, she knows you're generally very dense about those kinds of things.

But eventually, she can't take it anymore and her jealousy starts driving her mad.

She declares that you two are official, and that you very much are dating, which causes some tension between the two of you during action since you both agreed it just wasn't a good idea.

After some fighting, fighting, and more fighting eventually it's you this time taking the walk of shame to the lame-ousine.

Courtney fights her way to you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't expect it to play out this way!" She says sorrowfully.

But you did, you know just how Courtney is, you know how she gets, and while you didn't fully understand why she did what she did you could've guessed that some kind of fight was inevitable. Plus you know how she gets during competitions.

"Hey don't sweat it," you smile "now that I'm not technically on the show, I don't have as much of a problem doing this-" you say and bring her in for a short and sweet kiss.

After years of waiting for this moment, Coutney can't help but freeze up.

You pull away, and head towards the lame-ousine as she calls "I'll win this for you!"

"You had better win this for me! I just kissed you on live television!" You say smiling as you duck into the back seat.

Gwen

Gwen feels nothing but nervous when reuniting with you.

She was happy to see you sure, but her anxiety held her back in how she displayed that happiness.

She's mainly worried that too much time has passed since the two of you knew each other, and that the two of you won't have anything to talk about anymore.

Eventually the two of you slump back together and things go back to the way that they were before you had moved away.

Another reason she was desperately trying to avoid you at first is because of the huge massive crush she used to have on you.

And dang it of course you had to get cuter as you got older!

Just as she realizes that those feelings for you are slipping out of hiding, is also when she realizes that it's already too late.

Once again the two of you are glued at the hip, just like how it used to be.

You, being who you are and were, are wildly oblivious to these feelings because of course you are.

Gwen isn't one to wear her heart on her sleeve, and even though you two are close she is less so with you, she's been burned before, she's not letting that happen again.

The two of you are sitting next to each other at the talent show when it happens.

Heather goes up on stage and says "Originally I was going to dance for you, but instead I want to celebrate team spirit with a collaboration" She holds up a dark notebook with an evil look plastered on her face.

Gwen seems to recognize it and instantly freezes up "Gwen? Are you okay?" You asked, knowing immediately something was off.

"She wouldn't," she says, and then braces herself.

"So with words by Gwen, performance by me, enjoy."

She cleared her throat before beginning "Okay so I've been trying to ignore them. But they're just so cute! I know it's been forever since we've seen each other and in that time they have gotten so hot! Out of all my childhood friends, of course it had to be them."

Gwen dashes away from the bleachers, and Heather seems satisfied.

Of course you run after Gwen to comfort her.

She lamented on and on about how you must think she's such a creep now, and was acting like a total school girl, still writing in a diary.

But of course you didn't feel like that at all, this was Gwen you were talking about here. The cool, collected, funny quiet girl, and you were obsessed with her.

You two start getting a little more romantic after that, and Heather seeing her plan to drive a wedge between the two of you did not work realizes she has to get her hands messy and plays a little bit more of a direct role in getting you eliminated.

It's a sorrowful goodbye until you see her again in action.

Bridgette

Reuniting with Bridgette is nothing but vibes.

She's beyond stoked to see you again, and even more stoked to ride the wave with you again.

I imagine the two of you met at the beach, and it was love at first sight for her.

You two click all over again like no time has gone past, and she fills you in on every little thing you've missed.

Things are super cut and dry with Bridgette, no mess, nothing but chillness.

She makes her feelings pretty clear, with some hints and stuff.

She learned her lesson the first time, letting you leave without having ever told you how she really felt hurt in ways she wasn't ready to feel again.

But if you don't pick up on it she'll just flat out tell you.

"I'm not doing this cause you're my team mate, I'm doing it cause I like you. You dork."

"I like you too Bridge, you know that."

"Not like that-!" She exclaimed, splashing you playfully, rocking the canoe as she did "-like like like you."

You stare at her in disbelief for a moment.

"what?!" you exclaim.

"Do you not feel the same?" She frowned.

"No I do... I just wasn't expecting-" she cuts you off tackling you rocking the whole boat as she does.

The rest is history and you two are pretty much inseparable from that point onward.

Up until World Tour, where Alejandro starts becoming a plane wide problem.

He tries targeting you at first, but youre so in love with Bridgette he can't get any headway.

But Bridgette being stuck on an opposing team leaves her exposed to his manipulation, he lies about you and makes her question her loyalty.

After she gets stuck to a pole, you find her, but when she explains what happened you just feel so hurt and betrayed that you leave her in the dust (or well, snow).

After a world tour it takes a lot of apologizing and healing to get over what happened between the two of you but you're both determined to make it work so you both put your strongest foot forward and work at it.

Heather

Heather is absolutely stunned when she sees you.

You greet her excitedly when she hits you with a "hello? Earth to nerd, I don't know you!"

That's enough to keep you away from her for a while.

She 100% is only pretending not to know who you are, but what choice did she have? She couldn't risk her feelings for you returning and ruining her chances at winning.

Close tender friendships like you used to have were bad for her image now, she had an impression to keep in this competition and she'd be dead in the ground before she let you or anyone else come in the way of that.

Her tenderness for you starts to show through and through though, you know her like the back of your hand, still, even after all these years.

You'd recognize those glances anywhere, and you knew it meant more than just being a strong team mate when she would point out all the ways in which you did well in the challenges. She was trying to keep you in the game.

The two of you never have any heart to hearts, nothing like that anyways.

She never reveals that she does remember you, not even as you watch her fade into the horizon on the boat of losers.

World tour she's more determined than ever, you've never seen her so deranged to win.

I'd imagine the love triangle would have more to do with her and Alejandro then you and anyone else.

She becomes torn between the two of you, and the inherit struggle in trying to pick over someone who actually matched her wit, and her childhood best friend and longest crush.

She makes her decision when she inevitably votes you out.

"Heather... you voted for me?" You asked, heart breaking, eyes already feeling wet.

She scoffs, "Don't take it so personally."

You sniffle a little bit, and then shake your head "I should've known better than to fall for your two faced snake self twice." You spit.

And with that you're gone.

She's not stupid, she's not forgetful either, and you knew that she knew just what "twice" really meant.

But she'd dug her grave now, she would just have to hope it could hold a million bucks.

Duncan

The meeting with him is very awkward I'd imagine.

He'd likely pretend not to know you until he can get a moment alone with you.

I would imagine he's largely embarrassed of your relationship due to the fact that he met you before his Juvie days, and you were one of the only people who had known him before he became nothing more than a delinquent.

So yeah, he's hell bent on making sure people don't find out about you two knowing each other.

But we all know deep down Duncan is a totally sweetie, even if it is deep, deep, deep down. His affection for you is bound to show one way or another.

Ever the observant one I'm sure it was Courtney who noticed first, marveling at how strange it was that you two of all people had romantic feelings for each other.

She urged the two of you together, subtly, attempting to be your sort of wingman, unbeknownst to even you.

Eventually Duncan works towards getting her voted out because of this, he's so obsessed with keeping his bad boy persona he'd do just about anything in this competition to keep it up. Even risk losing a million big ones.

You knew something was fishy about Courtney getting voted, but you couldn't put your finger on what. At least not until you heard him in the confessionals.

"I had to get that Courtney chick voted out, she was getting too close. I hate people who get to close,"

"Duncan!" you exclaim.

You can hear him mutter curses from the outhouse.

"Forget it! You know I can't believe I was actually starting to like you again!"

After that it's a nonstop battle for Duncan to win back your affections.

I would imagine the love triangle would consist of you, Duncan, and of course, Courtney.

She would start falling for you based on the way you shamelessly defended her despite your feelings for Duncan.

Only problem for you was those feelings hadn't exactly gone away since last season, and you were still very much into him.

You three fight a lot, and are the reason all three of you end up going home.

Which leaves nothing but time to work out your messy feelings for Duncan, and his for you.

But maybe time is really all the two of you need.

Izzy

Izzy is a bit of a wild card (obviously).

I feel like reuniting with her is just super duper chaotic, and very overwhelming at first.

She wants to fill you in on every little detail in her life within the same second she sees you again.

But you remember how to rein her in, she really hasn't changed much from the chaotic messy kid she was. (save for being a criminal now (whoops!)).

You being in the challenge with her would keep her much more rallied and motivated towards an understandable goal.

She can feel those intimate feelings creeping back, but she isn't shy with it.

I imagine she probably would've confessed to you once before, when you first moved, only neither of you wanted to try out long distance and thought it might only ruin what a good friendship you had. So through your move you decided to just stay friends.

You don't get long to sit and wonder about if those feelings still linger for her as they do for you when she abruptly asks

"So hey, are you interested in dating during the competition?" she asked, sitting beside you, anything but shy.

"What?"

Izzy was nothing if not explorative, she collected new experiences like pokemon cards, and she wanted to live fully every part of life.

"It might be a little bit messy. But I think maybe it could work, if all that was keeping you was distance the first time... well... I'm here now."

She stares at you with an expectant kind of rare almost nervous look, and though the confession is anything but picturesque, with her, it's perfect.

I think the love triangle would come in with her next season with maybe Alejandro falling for you.

Hard to say whether his attempts at flirting are due to advancing in the game, or genuine attraction. Either way you have trouble picking up on it, especially when things are going so well with Izzy.

I wouldn't say Izzy isn't a jealous person, I just think she could fall either way, depending on the person, depending on the day, the humidity in the air, basically on nothing at all. She's nothing if not erratic.

With Alejandro, she might be inclined to threaten him with her license to kill depending on her mood, and depending on what he tries to pull with you.

Cody

The reunion with Cody is one that is very heartfelt, and he instantly lights up upon seeing you.

You can see that he's fairly committed to his "too cool for school" schtick, so having any genuine connection with him might be a little tricky.

He's one person I feel like would have definitely tried to keep in contact with, it wasn't anything like every day phone calls, but the two of you had definitely spent at least some time sending letters back and forth.

So when you too meet there isn't a lot of catching up to do, only some.

He's overall very excited to see you back, and you know him enough to know that, even if he's refusing to show it.

You can feel those creeping feelings sneak up on you until the hit you smack in the face during one of the challenges.

"Cody!" you exclaimed during one of the challenges as he hit the ground hard.

"I'm fine," he lied, his voice strangled, the wind having been knocked out of him wholly.

You helped him up, and picked up a piece of paper that had tumbled out of his pocket and went bouncing a few feet.

At first you mistake it for trash, but with the way that even injured and put out Cody grabs for it, you figure it must be something good.

You were due for a little bit of teasing when you decided to open it, only to realize that it was a letter from you.

It's an old one, a really old one, perhaps even the first one you'd ever sent.

"Uhhh... how'd that get in there!?" He exclaims, swiping it out of your hands which are too stunned to fight against it.

Realization dawns on you just as quickly, there is only one reason he'd would've kept that with him after all those years.

"Oh my god Cody, you like me!"

The rest is history, and you two start dating among the challenges.

The conflict would come with Sierra I would think, who's hell bent on breaking you two apart.

All of her attempts fall flat unfortunately for her, and you two stand as one of the more healthy and strong relationships within the show.

#I hope this is as fun to read as it was to write!#oh my god is 3am #what am i doing #anyways hope u enjoyyy!#total drama #total drama x reader #total drama imagines #fanfic #td #total drama headcanons #td courtney #td heather #td gwen #td cody #td duncan #td izzy #x reader

452 notes · View notes

detachedminxsfics · 10 months

Text

Farmhand

Masterlist

Characters: Negan (Dead City) x F!Reader

Summary: When Negan spends a late night out in the barn and doesn't return to his room you go to convince him to turn in for the night, but Negan has other ideas.

Word count: 4K

Warnings: NSFW - Dry humping, fingering, vaginal sex, riding, choking, praise, dirty talk, negan's usual foul mouth, dom negan

A/N: I am so sorry it took me so long to finish this but I hope the wait was worth it, this one got pretty dirty but it's cowboy Negan so it just HAD to be. As they say, save a horse ride a cowboy!

The leaves beneath the soles of your boots crunched with every step, the breeze whistling through the trees as you walked through the forest. Negan was right at your side, as per usual, his eyes occasionally glancing towards you and his head lifting in search of any signs of trouble without the obscurity of the brim of his cowboy hat. You'd been on the road for a few weeks now, just the two of you. You'd first bumped into Negan a few months ago when you arrived at a small farm settlement way out in the countryside, the people there having been kind enough to offer you refuge, and you chose to repay their generosity by helping out on the farm wherever you could. That's when you met Negan. He'd already been there a few months when you first arrived it seemed, the people there having gotten pretty comfortable with him and Negan himself having gotten accustomed to his routine. And from the moment you walked through the doors of that barn and saw him hunched over a hay bale, tattoos on his arms and the muscles flexing with every movement, the veins running up the backs of his hands and forearms and his forehead glistening with sweat, you were hooked. He straightened his back with a groan and grasped the fabric at the bottom of his tank top, lifting the hem to drag the material over his forehead and mop up the sweat that had gathered there, the lift of his top revealing the trail of hair starting from his belly button and stopping at the depths of his toned lower abdomen. Your eyes travelled to the dark curls of hair at his chest, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from the deep v-lines framing his hips sitting prettily above the waistband of his low waisted jeans.

"Oh, hey." The sound of his voice interrupted the way your eyes were shamelessly roaming over his body, and you subtly cleared your throat.

He let go of his top and ran a hand through his slightly damp, dishevelled hair, slicking it in the process.

"I don't think I've seen your face before, you new here sweetheart?" He asked as he bent down and reached for something off to the side.

When he leant back up he had a beige cowboy hat in his hands which he naturally placed on his head.

"Pretty much just got here last night, feeling real out of my depth." You replied honestly, your uncertainty making him shake his head with a chuckle.

"No need, you'll fit right in. And I'm guessing you're already on the right track if you walked all the way over here to see if you could help these fine folks out."

You nodded, and Negan gestured with his head in the direction of the pile of hay he was handling.

"C'mon then, give me a hand with this."

That was all he had to say, and from that point onwards you seemed attached at the hip. Always trying to be on the same job as the other, always offering to be partnered on a supply run, so you suppose it was only a matter of time before you relieved the unspoken tension between the two of you one way or another. Negan's room was only across from yours in the farmhouse so you could hear when he opened and closed the door to his room to settle in for the night, but he hadn't yet. You got up from your bed and peered out the window, the view giving you a nice overlook of the farm. You could see some of the crops that had been planted in a plot of land off to the side and the moderately sized cornfield near the barn, the moonlight from the night sky illuminating the front of the barn enough for you to make out its slightly ajar doors, and a sigh left your lips. Negan. You threw on a denim skirt and slipped on some boots, making your way out of your room and the farmhouse to walk all the way down to the barn, carefully peering into the space in the doors and stepping into it a little. Negan was leaning over the workbench in the far corner tinkering with something. You could barely make him out in the dimness of the barn, small beams of luminescence creeping in through the occasional window. It was as you got closer that you were able to discern the cowboy hat on top of his head. It always suited him.

"Late night?" You said as you stepped into the barn, hay crunching beneath your boots with every step.

Negan lifted his head the moment he heard your voice, his eyes meeting yours. He chuckled and placed the tool he'd been grasping in one hand down on the workbench, straightening his back a little and slightly tilting his hat back to wipe the sheen of sweat that had gathered on his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Yeah, something like that."

He gave a long, exhausted sigh that prompted you to make your way over to him until you stood beside him, your eyes curiously glancing over the workbench for a moment. It just looked like scrap, at least to you.

"What you working on?" You asked, making Negan shake his head with a smile.

"Nothing really, just some piece a' shit car part that I thought I might be able to fix up. I'm not really a handyman typa guy, but I thought I'd give it a shot."

You nodded and then took hold of one of Negan's tanned forearms, the feeling of his skin on yours burning you up from the slightest touch, and gently tried to urge him away from what he was messing with.

"C'mon Negan, it's getting late. You can screw around with that tomorrow." You pleaded with him, but he stood firmly in place as a small laugh escaped his lips, his head tilting a little.

"And what are you doing up this late yourself, hm? Cause something tells me that you didn't wake up just to check whether I made it to my room or not, or are you really all that worried about little ol' me?" Negan teased, the deflection of your suggestion making you laugh.

"Okay smartass, I was already awake. I was having trouble sleeping and I gave up, so I thought I'd come see what you were up to."

Negan raised his brows playfully and placed his hand over the back of the one you were using to hold his arm, slightly holding it in his palm.

"Oh, what kinda trouble?"

You knew he was just avoiding facing the possibility of giving up what he was doing and turning in for the night, but the delay was sure as hell gonna work.

"I get dreams about this...guy."

His eyebrows quirked up even more than they had before, the shit-eating grin on his face widening in an instant and his eyes lit up like a kid on christmas morning.

"Really, just some random guy?" He quipped doubtfully.

You scoffed and tried to drop your hand from his forearm, to which you did, but he kept his hand pressed over yours.

"Yeah, a guy, Negan."

You'd piqued his curiosity, and there was something hidden in your words that had his tongue dragging over his bottom lip.

"Well, what happens in these dreams of yours?" He asked seemingly innocent enough, but it was full of ambiguity.

He reached up with his free hand and swept a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes looking you over beneath that beige cowboy hat still sat proudly atop his head, and the silver of his stubble looking as good as ever. Your eyes filled with something inviting, a coy smile on your lips as you tilted your head.

"Why do you wanna know, Negan?"

He shrugged and feigned total ignorance to the exact reason he was so obviously prying, but the grin on his lips gave him away.

"Can I take a wild guess, darlin'?"

Now it was your turn to be intrigued. Your eyes bore into his, his hand still holding yours and your line of sight occasionally getting carried away and landing on his lips before returning to his gaze. You nodded. In a calculated movement Negan gently closed his hand around the top of your throat and guided your lips to his, your lips crashing and allowing you to feel his mouth against yours. You couldn't help but moan into it, eyes fluttering closed as you tasted him. His other hand found its way to your waist to pull you in closer whilst he licked your bottom lip in an attempt to coax your lips apart, and you did. His tongue slipped into your mouth, your tongues entwining for a moment until you pulled back just enough to break the kiss, lips still barely brushing and your breath shaky as you struggled to find air.

"So?" Negan cockily teased as to whether he had nailed the nature of your fantasies yet or not, and while he was well on his way to getting there, he hadn't just yet.

"Not quite there yet, cowboy."

He paused for a moment before he let out a small, throaty chuckle. He moved his hand from where it had been resting on your throat and reached down to hoist you up by your thighs, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and your arms wrapping around his neck. His lips captured yours once more as he brought you to the workbench and rested you on it, one of his hands sliding up to hold the nape of your neck and deepen the kiss, his groans spilling into your mouth as you tightened the grip of your legs around his hips to bring his clothed bulge against your panties; your skirt having rode up when he lifted you and now bunched at your hips. He broke the kiss and gave a small grunt as you rolled your hips slightly and created some friction, his hand reaching down to rest just above your knee and then slowly glide up your thigh, an idle grip in his hand as he did that caressed your skin as he went. Negan's hand continued even when it reached the denim of where your skirt had gathered, his hand slipping under your skirt and giving the very top of your thigh a squeeze before he moved his attention to your panties. A small gasp escaped your lips as his index finger teasingly traced a line through your clothed slit, the thin cotton damp and clinging to your cunt with how much you'd soaked your panties from the mere feel of his lips on yours.

"Damn baby, you're so fuckin' wet." He whispered gravelly against your lips, his mouth so close to yours you could feel his hot breath fanning against your lips as he spoke.

"Please." You practically choked out, your small plea making his lips curve into a dirty smile and move your panties to the side.

"Yes ma'am." He husked.

He dove beneath the fabric at the side of your panties and slid one finger in at first, the sensation making you throw your head back until you were resting against the wall behind the workbench, Negan's hand still holding the nape of your neck. He pumped his finger inside you a few times before adding a second digit, the slight stretch around his fingers making you moan and lift your head to meet his eyes again. He had that damn cowboy hat still sitting on his head as he fucked you with his skilled fingers, moving his fingers in and out of you at a fast, pleasurable pace that you could barely comprehend, your moans gradually sounding more like whimpers. His eyes bore into yours, the glazed-over look of dark lust they were filled with making you spread your legs a little further and angle yourself to get his fingers deeper. He curled them slightly as you did, the immediate unrestrained whine that would follow becoming muffled against his lips as he pressed them to yours, the hand on the back of your neck allowing him to deepen the kiss and his fingertips slipping into your hair to comb through the strands. Every touch left you feeling breathless, every pump of his fingers further clouding your mind until you could no longer care for the dangers of getting attached to someone like this in this ruined world. You had wanted Negan since the moment you saw him, and now you had him if the way his fingers were buried in you was anything to go by.

"Shit, I could listen to those pretty noises all day, sweetheart." Negan whispered against your lips, purposely curling his fingers as he did to draw another sweet moan out of you, and you knew you weren't going to be able to take this any longer if he kept this up.

Unfortunately, Negan seemed to pick up on that too. He removed his fingers from you much to your verbalised dismay, lifting his hand and slipping the two fingers glistening with your wetness into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the tattoos on his knuckles and a pleased hum of approval escaping his lips as he tasted you.

"You're as delicious as you look, y'know this farm girl get up is really doing it for me." Negan commented as he withdrew his fingers from his mouth, and you were starting to think that you might have passed out in your bed and this was another one of your dreams after all.

"Oh? I bet I feel as good too." Such crude words sounded so good coming from your mouth, the sudden confidence making his brows perk up in a mix of surprise and twisted curiosity.

"Is that so? Hell, now I gotta know."

He removed his hand from your hair and reached up your skirt to hook his fingers into the waistband of your panties and begin working it down your legs, tossing them aside when he had gotten them off the ankle they'd tried to dangle from. His hands were quick to work at his belt, the metal of his belt buckle clinking slightly once it fell loosely on either side of his fly, to which he was quick to unbutton and undo the zipper on his jeans. Negan was so impatient he didn't even bother to get his pants off, he just worked them down his legs until the denim pooled at his feet, his boxers next to join the pile. Once his top was hurriedly discarded too his hands found their way to the tops of your thighs as he dragged you to the edge of the workbench and stepped into the space between your legs, his eyes locking with yours as he pushed inside you and used the grip on your hips to further guide you onto him. The stretch was incredible, your mouth falling open and a noise you weren't sure you'd ever even heard before spilling from it.

"Is that better, baby?" Negan cooed, your only response being the frantic nod of your head.

His thrusts started off slow giving you time to get used to the feel of him, his breath getting heavier and small grunts forming in his throat with every thrust, and then he reached up in an attempt to remove his cowboy hat.

"Don't you dare." You playfully warned as you snatched his wrist to stop him making Negan chuckle and lower his hand again.

"Alright alright, guess the cowboy hats stayin' on."

You closed your legs around his waist again as he started to move his hips a little faster, locking your legs around his waist and tightening your grip every time he thrust as deep as he could go, the sensation making Negan screw his eyes shut and throw his head back slightly exposing the vein running along the side of his neck and the way his adams apple protruded from his throat. You flattened your palms against the wood as you leaned up and started kissing your way down his throat starting with the underside of his jawline, lightly running your tongue over the lump in his throat once you got to it.

"Fuuuck honey, you're gonna be the damn death of me." He sighed, his head lowering to look into your eyes when you pulled back after placing a kiss above his collarbone.

Dark hair adorned his chest, an intricate skull tattoo situated to one side as his chest rose and fell at a rate almost as fast as yours. You couldn't help but run your hand down his chest, his skin burning red hot against your warm palm.

"Well shit, I'm not as young as I used to be." Negan quipped breathlessly with a small smile as his hand moved to cup one side of your face, his thumb stroking along your cheek.

Your hand affectionately raised and settled over the back of his, though the intent in your words was not as sweet as your gesture.

"Get on the table then, cowboy."

You barely gave him time to react as you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him down, flipping as you did so now you were straddling him. He landed on the wooden surface with a small thud, a cocky laugh filling the air as you braced your hands onto his shoulders while he straightened his back, one hand pressing in on your waist and the other on your lower back to help you get comfortable on his lap. You adjusted slightly until you were sitting on your knees, legs resting on either side of him and hovering over his lap. His hands grasped your hips as Negan guided you down onto his cock, the angle allowing him to fill you up much more than before and the feeling of fullness once you fully sank onto him nothing short of pure ecstasy. You clung to him and tried to even out your breath, your eyes locking with his as he reached up and gently took hold of your jaw only to lift his hips a little, a sick smile spreading across his lips as his tongue swept over his bottom lip and a desperate whine came from your lips.

"Go on then my little cowgirl." He drawled, his thumb tracing across your bottom lip.

You started to roll your hips as you lifted yourself up and then sank all the way back down onto him, the sounds the two of you were making and the noise of skin slapping against skin filling the thick air of the barn, only worsening when you found a rhythm that Negan only made that much more euphoric as he lifted his hips in time with you. Negan's hands moved to cup your ass as you started to bounce, the workbench rocking from the force and banging against the wall behind it, his fingers dug into your skin hard enough to leave marks.

"God, you feel so fucking good bouncing on my cock." He rasped, the dirtiness of his words only fuelling you that much more as you rode him.

Negan wrapped his hand around your throat as you bounced on top of him, his grip firm as he squeezed just enough to allow the lack of oxygen to bleed into the immeasurable pleasure, the veins in his hands prominent as he lightly choked you. The hand cupping your ass kneaded your cheek before he drew his hand back and delivered a harsh slap to your ass, your skin stinging from the impact and the surprise of it drawing a small squeak out of you. Negan chuckled as you did and slapped the same cheek again a little harder than the first, though this time the noise that came from your lips was more of a depraved cry. He was surely leaving his mark on you, embellishing you with a stark red handprint on your now sore skin.

"Good girl." He crooned.

His praise alone almost sent you over the edge, your legs starting to quiver as he wrapped his arm around you and started to thrust into you relentlessly, pounding you as you hover over his lap.

"Negan, oh fuck." You choked out, your pleasure filled sob muffled when he crashed his lips against yours and continued to fuck into you mercilessly, the arm around your waist keeping you pressed firmly against him.

"That's it, baby, that's it." He whispered throatily between kisses, and that was all you needed.

Your lips parted but no sound came out, just your breath catching in your throat as your orgasm washes over you, the sensation knocking the strength right out of your legs as your knees buckled leaving you fully sitting on him. Finally, the moan tore from your throat as he gave a few more hard thrusts while you tried to ride out your high, his eyes half-lidded with lust when he slid his hands down to grip your hips and lift you off him so he could spill onto your inner thigh, a guttural groan leaving his lips whilst warm droplets splashed on your skin. Still catching his breath Negan removed the cowboy hat and ran his hand through his hair, placing it off to the side so he could lay back onto the workbench, the way you were pressed to his chest bringing you with him. You let your head rest against his chest and could hear the way his heart was racing against your ear, your breathing starting to even out as you briefly closed your eyes and focused on it, his chin resting on top of your head all the while. After a moment you felt his fingers combing through your hair while his other hand moved to rest on the small of your back and draw circles.

"Hey." Negan muttered softly prompting you to look at him.

You lifted your head to comply with his unspoken request, a kittenish smile playing on your lips as you moved slightly further up his body so that your face could hover above his, propping yourself up on your elbows. Some of your hair fell to obscure one side of your face as you did which Negan reached up and tenderly swept behind your ear.

"You are so beautiful, sweetheart." He whispered, the flattery only making your smile a little wider as you leaned down till your lips were mere inches from his.

"And you are one handsome cowboy." You playfully hummed, barely able to finish what you were saying as Negan pressed his lips against yours, the kiss much slower and fervent than the sloppy and heated ones you'd shared before.

You were just basking in the company of one another. The feel of your body laid on top of his and his skin hot against yours, the feel of his lips moving on yours making your mind even foggier with need for him. You didn't care that someone might wonder why neither of you had made it back to your rooms in the middle of the night, that someone might come to find you both draped over a workbench and tasting one another to your heart's content. All that mattered was that you had each other.

"And that was one hell of a ride, might I add." Negan pulled back to joke, your noses still brushing from the closeness and his crude comment making your laughter come out in the form of a snort.

"Shut up."

And your lips were on his again.

#negan #negan smut #negan smith #negan twd #negan fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd negan #twd fanfiction #twd fic #the walking dead negan #negan x reader #dead city negan #dead city

1K notes · View notes

f4irycafe · 2 years

Text

𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 - 𝒂𝒐𝒕 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔

⤷ summary: aot boys wth high maintenance girlfriends.

⤷ characters: jean, armin, connie, eren,

⤷ content warnings: suggestive themes, fluff, black!coded reader, college!au.

⤷ notes: my MEN.

PLEASE REBLOG

𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐧

baby boy is obsessed with you. like the biggest simp outta all of them fs.

jean isn't rich, but he's worked hard for all the $$ he has.

and he def doesn't mine spending all that shit on you okayyyyyyyyy.

he knew you liked to keep up w yourself, new nails and lashes every few weeks, new wig/braids/locs every few months.

he was just soo in awe of your presence for a while he didn't even consider how much that stuff costs.

"baby how much does your hair cost?" he asks you one day as ur just chilling on the couch in your dorm.

"couple hundred, why?" atp he knows all abt your hair care n stuff so this isn't no invasive ass question.

eyes = dropped out of his head.

he tries to play it cool like, "oh alright," but inside he's like, i've been letting her pay hundreds for her hair ALONE this entire time.

now whenever you mention you wanna go get ur lashes refilled, or ask him to pick a color, his first question is,

"how much is it?"

i feel like there is one or two services he chooses to pay for consistently, like braids and nails. he got money, but not that much so he can't be wildin out for you.

you get the biggest heart eyes when he does tho. sometimes you don't even have to ask and you get a veno notif on your phone.

"$250 from jean" - get the white tips i like.

cause yuk know, he likes to watch em when you ... yeh yeh u get it.

supportive, love to spoil you, but will act so nonchalant abt it.

𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧

rich boy armin? rich boy armin.

he lives a high maintnence lifestyle as it is, tailed clothes, designer book bags, shoes, glasses, family homes in europe. your typical trust fund baby.

honestly, that was the first thing he noticed about you. the nice but still lowkey car, the sleek bags, the perfect professional looking wigs and braids, even the smells you wore just exuded an air of confidence.

he loved it.

being a boy tho, he didn't realize just how much money went into upkeep with your look per week.

he was shocked, sure, but your finances barely made a dent in his pockets.

the type boyfriend to just hand you an asswad of cash at the beginning of the week and say "go crazy,"

at first you wanted to test just how much you could get out of him. a new white tie dress for some elite school event, the new apple watch that just dropped, wigs that cost upwards of $500 for you to only wear them for a week.

when you finally realized that this boy would do any and everything for you, you toned it down a bit.

but now, he pays for all your shit. eyelashes, hair, nails, perfume.

you still be paying for your phone, car, rent etc, but all that personal shit, yeah its his.

𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧

hehehe. y'all know this is my husband quit playingggggg

while armin goes after the pretty rich girls, eren goes after the ones that do this shit just cause they can.

you be working for every inch of hair on your head trust and BELEIVEEEEEEE.

thats one of the things he admires about you, how hard you work for the stuff you want. even if that shit seems superficial to others, you can fr do anything you put your mind to.

another trust fund baby. (i hc grisha as a world class surgeon and carla as a lowkey fashion designer)

he just thinks ur so pretty. like jean, worships the ground you work on.

one night you're trying to set up an appointment for these fancy ass locs that almost touch the floor but you're stressin tryna figure out when you can fit another shift in at work between studying, classes and your extracurriculars while on ft w him.

he's quiet and contemplative on the phone, not really giving answers outside of "i'm sorry bae :("

in the morning you wake up to a venmo notif.

"stink-a-link paud you $600 - hair app. get those nails you've been wanting too."

at first you kinda freak out cause 600??? aint no one treated you like this before.

he just smiles when you try to call him, asking him to take it back.

"i got money to spend, and ik how much this style means to you. if you're happy i'm happy pretty girl."

the sweetest.

plus he gets bragging rights. cause who tf elses girl is looking this damn fine? right , no ones.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞

CONSTANCE

if you've been here for a while you know its rich drug dealer connie or nothin.

yall probably got together cause he was ur plug and gave u a lil too much free weed lmaooooo.

but he been payin for your shit from the start.

the only catch - u gotta get what he wants.

its never wack or emberassing, our boy got taste and an eye for fashion, trust he does u right.

he be putting the description in the venmo tag LMAO

"buss down 30in. honey brown beach wave ..."

LIKE BOY HOW U KNOW WHAT THAT ISSSSSSSSS? U THE OPPS OR SOMETHIN

sometimes he'll just give you like a color for the nails and hair. he don't be knowin much about lashes tho, but he likes the cat eye ones the most.

everyone is always thirsting after you fr.

makes him so proud. maybe a lil too proud HAHA

but he'll drive u to all ur appointments. he doesn't care how long they are he'll wait. or go home and bring u food if its a long hair day.

hypes u up so much when u get in the car talkin bout "you so pretty babe".

can't stop looking at you.

elles rambles: i - love them so much. biased w eren as always. but i want these boys to spoil me. specially connie :))))))0

4K notes · View notes

cheapshrimpysheep · 10 months

Text

First Date - Pomefiore

SUMMARY: What would your first date with him be like? I know first dates might not go so well, but let's pretend these are different. ;)

CHARACTERS: Vil Schoenheit; Epel Felmier & Rook Hunt

TAGS: Fluf; GN Reader; Flirting; Kissing

WARNING: Possible spoilers from The Harveston Sledathon

WORD COUNT: An average of 660 words per character.

Heartslabyul / Savanaclaw / Octavinelle / Scarabia / Pomefiore / Ignihyde / Diasomnia

COMMENTS: “So many possibilities” was what I thought, mostly writing the Vil’s and Rook’s parts. And it's when you have so many options that you block for not being able to decide which one to choose. But in the end, I think I chose well.

I hope you enjoy ;)

There were so many possibilities and at the same time so few. So many because he could take you anywhere. With Vil’s fame and influence, he can open many doors for you both. But so few because, with that same fame, you would have much less privacy in public places. Not just paparazzi, but those inconvenient fans interrupting you and a lot of eyes turned your way.

However, he does know of a few restaurants with private rooms for those willing to pay extra for some peace and quiet. Oh, darling, don't worry. He is very aware of your financial difficulties, that's why he will pay for everything. Of course with that, the least you have to do is your best in your presentation and manners.

What? You think you don't have good enough clothes for a date at that restaurant? Well, let's take a look at your wardrobe, shall we. Oh gosh, you're right! You definitely need new clothes! Come, you and Vil are going shopping urgently. Why? Because he already made a reservation at the restaurant for the following night. Waiting list? For Vil Schoenheit? Oh love, your innocence is so cute sometimes.

Money? “You don't feel it's fair that I pay for everything, do you?” He says when you come back to talking about you not having money for clothes from the stores he wants to take you to. “I'm glad, actually. That shows your character.” He smiles “But then again, I'm the one inviting you. I could have chosen an alternative, dinner in Pomefiore or something on campus, but that wouldn't have been worthy! Yes, worthy. That wouldn't have been worthy to be our first date. And again, don't worry about the money. A tenth of what I get for playing the villain in a single film is more than enough to pay for all this. But... on second thought...” He smirks at you “if this is an incentive for you to strive to look and behave your best, you can still feel like you owe me something.”

He’ll recommend clothes based on what will best show your personality, what fits your tastes, the colours that best match your skin tone, etc. The same applies to accessories and shoes. You're not going in trainers, are you? By the way, Vil can pay for things, but you're the one carrying the bags.

On the night of the dinner, he'll ask Rook to help you with your hair and make-up, even if you don't wear much. We both know he'll not shut-up about you and Vil. But on the bright side, his words are a boost in your confidence.

Did you think he would be one of those celebrities who hide in baggy clothes, a hoodie and sunglasses? On your first date? No, he's going to look his best for him and you. The same way you should look your best for yourself and him. He wants you to look your best so people can see why he's with you. Not just anyone can go on a date with Vil Schoenheit. And I'm not talking about appearances, but about showing your inside through the outside.

He found a way to enter the restaurant as quietly as possible and head to the private room. Despite everyone who was around look at the two of you indiscreetly and immediately wide-eyed. You were wearing the same perfume made by Vil himself. Which alerted the noses of anyone who wasn't already looking.

In the beautiful room you were alone, not counting the times when an employee came in to serve you. You notice that he is wearing the same lipstick as you. Why would it be? “For two main reasons, my sweet spudling. First, because it was the best choice for this outfit. And second...” He lifts your chin with his index finger, running his thumb lightly across your bottom lip. “for when we kiss, we don't ruin each other's lipstick.

Epel knows very well where he DOESN'T want to take you: Pomefiore. Nope! But luckily he also knows very well where he WANTS to take you: Harveston, his home town. But this time it's just the two of you. Away from Vil's judgemental look and comments. And every other student.

However, despite the fact that he knows perfectly well where to take you and what you can do together, he is extremely nervous. Not just because everyone knows him there and many can still remember you and tease you two a little. Especially his grandma if he tells her the real reason why you're there with him. But also because of his own insecurities. He knows everyone thinks he's cute, that you think he's cute, but he doesn't want you to see him like that, especially on a date. But at the same time, if you wanted to go on a date with him it's because you like him the way he is, right? He will often be conflicted between continuing to be who he is or trying to impress you.

You've been there in winter and he'd like to take you at another time of the year so you can see another side of the small town. Luckily, your date turned out to be during Spring. Perfect! And what better way to get around in spring than by bike? He'll get his bike and get you one. Perhaps his grandma offers you an old bike of hers that is still in excellent condition.

Both bikes have baskets so he asks you to carry a picnic blanket in your basket while he carries the picnic basket in his bike basket. He'd like to make it a surprise, but it's hard, so the surprise will have to be the place and the food.

It is an incredibly pleasant ride. There is plenty of space for you as practically no cars pass through these dirt roads, so you can ride freely. Green fields full of blossoming apple trees under a blue sky are your whole landscape. Some trees have completely snow-white flowers, others pink flowers, and still others in between those two colours.

As you have plenty of space for the two of you and long beautiful paths, he will try to pedal alongside you. Always slightly ahead of you to show the way. He might ask if you're enjoying the ride, but your smile says it all.

You will stop at one of the apple orchards and walk through the trees. If you ask Epel if you are not entering private property, he will say yes, but that he knows the owners and had already asked permission for the two of you to be there. He spreads out the blanket on the grass between two rows of blossoming apple trees. Some of the fallen flowers dot the ground.

He didn't do anything too elaborate. Some sandwiches, a little pie or two and, of course, apples. However, the holes in the pies were heart-shaped, as was the cut of the sandwiches. He handed them to you with a smile, but also a blush. And you two would chat while eating and he would carving some apples for you. He carved one like a pattern of hearts, another like a rose, another like a swan, and even one with Grim's head.

It's practically impossible not to find him cute after all that. But not in the way he thinks, it's a different kind of cute that you feel but don't know how to explain. And it's while you're thinking about it and looking at your hands, admiring one of the apples he carved for you, that you feel a gentle kiss on your cheek. When you look at him in surprise, you see a mixture of confidence and hesitation on his face, this second because he's worried that you didn't like what he just did. But when he sees your smile, the hesitation disappears and he moves even closer to you...

MERVEILLEUX! Oh! The day is coming. Your first date. But what to do? There are so many possibilities and all merveilleux! But Rook can only choose one, and he chose: a date at the theatre. To see what play? “The Princess and the Huntsman”, a beautiful story of a forbidden love. He says it's based on a story or rumor about the Fairest Queen's stepdaughter.

Nowadays, you don't need to wear a fancy suit or dress to watch a play. But this is still a date with Rook, so you strive to be at your best for that. “Absolument magnifique~” are the first words out of his mouth when he sees you. He went to picked you up. “You are stunning! I feel so lucky to have the privilege of being next to such beauty.” He will continue to remind you how beautiful you are until you reach the theatre. He loves to see you trying to hide your blush.

During the play you do not speak. Both are focused on stage, or at least most of your attention is there. The other small part of your attention is in the hands. That's because, especially in the more romantic parts, he slides his hand to caress yours.

After the play, if you allow it, you will leave the theatre hand in hand, and talk about what you thought of the play as he takes you to a restaurant for dinner. A beautiful one, with a lot of your favourite foods. You hesitate to discreetly ask him if this is an expensive restaurant. But when you do, he laughs “Ah, mon cher, there's no need for you to worry about that. I'll be more than happy to pay for everything to let you rest easy. Let it be my present for you.”

If you say that you don't have a present for him to thank for dinner, he will reply: “Oh, Trickster, your thoughtfulness and concern are undoubtedly beautiful! But there will be no need for that. Tonight with you was such a magnificent gift that even the price of the most expensive of dishes could not compare. Let me at least treat you that, Trickster.”

Whatever you order to eat, he will order exactly the same. He wants to taste what you taste, understand your tastes to understand and learn more about you. A person's culinary tastes can say a lot about themselves, and he wants to hear every syllable about it. He can't help but watch you as he eats too. Every movement, the way you hold the cutlery, the way you bring the food to your mouth, the way you react to each ingredient. And no matter how good you are at noticing that the person in front of you is looking at you, he is much better at hiding it.

Unless he purposely lets himself be caught looking at you. “I’m sorry mon cher, but you know how hard it is for me not to behold the beauty that I have before my eyes. Please, don't put me through the torture of hiding it.” He’s looking at you with the most enchanted eyes you have ever seen, not blushing is impossible. He loves doing this to you.

If you allow him, he will slide his hand across the table to hold and caress yours while you chat. And slide his foot under the table to touch yours. Sometimes art shouldn't be touched, but when you allow it and that's his way of showing appreciation for you, he'll keep going until you stop him.

It is when you are returning home, or to the dorms, that perhaps you can no longer bear to hear Rook's compliments without reciprocating with a kiss. The best kiss you can give him is one that shuts him up mid-sentence. It's the closest you can get to surprising him. And if it's a short kiss, he'll grab you by the waist, lay you in his arms and kiss you with the greatest passion he feels for you.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twst fluf #Twisted Wonderland Fluf #Vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #Epel Felmier #Epel Felmier x Reader #Epel x Reader #Rook Hunt #Rook Hunt x Reader #Rook x Reader

674 notes · View notes

laurashapiro-noreally · 21 days

Text

Looking for something to read?

Oh look, it's another recs post! This time I'm featuring two stories per author. These are writers I always make time for, whose work stands out as unusually hot, clever, funny, or smart -- sometimes all of the above.

I'm gonna start you out strong with two by @werpiper: After Hours takes Aziraphale and Crowley to the baths after their oyster supper, and all sorts of interesting pleasures are there for our angel to sample. Piper's Crowley is one of my favorites: always evaluating the situation, not quite aware of what his own heart is doing but feeling it anyway.

Fitting In is a new story, still a WIP, but I am utterly tantalized by Muriel's first taste of love -- and tea. This is already rich in detail, soft and fragrant, and I can hardly wait for the action to get going in earnest. The pairing seems surprising but when you think about it for ten seconds of course it makes sense. Sex workers help the curious, the awkward, and the inexperienced every day, bless them.

If you enjoy these, check out @werpiper's back catalog -- they have done a ton of ineffables-through-the-ages, and their series Miracles and Heresy is worth many delightful hours of your time.

I love what @copperplatebeech has been doing lately:

He's Not My Friend is a T-rated story that explores Aziraphale's constant refusal to acknowledge his relationship with Crowley, and Crowley's mirror of that, and how things glacially shift over time. It is subtle and yet specific, it will make you ache and smile.

All Of The Above, also T-rated, is a warm and fuzzy alternative to that, a hilarious celebration of true friendship that made me laugh out loud and still got me right in the feels.

@copperplatebeech can do everything, from quiet, gentle, and romantic to devastating plotty AUs to extraordinarily horny established relationship to absolutely ridiculous humor. Do dive in if you haven't already.

Next up, @cumaeansibyl, master of kink:

better living through technology manages to shove everything I want in a dirty story into less than three thousand words: uptight Aziraphale reduced to sodden wreck, Crowley gleefully showing him what he's been missing, character-driven erotics, and exceptionally funny dialogue.

indulgentiam peccatorum nostrorum is somehow all that and more, turning the "I was wrong" dance into a kink (something I can't get enough of, recs welcome). This one is post-Bastille so it is extra-juicy. Mind the tags!

@cumaeansibyl has a gift for established relationship one-shots, which readers of mine will know are my entire jam. They also have a mind-meltingly hot inverse!omens AU that features different variations of angelic/demonic Crowleys and Aziraphales for our ineffables to play with.

A new-to-me author, Calico, has me hanging by a thread with their Ineffable Romans series. If you want to remember that your ineffables aren't human, that they are inordinately clever but very stupid, that the feelings they have for each other are truly beyond what anyone alive has ever felt, Calico may be the writer for you. This stuff is deep. Also hot af.

Sub Rosa reads like a nasty shag at Petronius', but there's so much more going on here. It is Extremely Queer, driven by power dynamics, and Crowley is fully demonic here and absolutely in control...or is he?

The Intemperance of Liber Pater continues on this theme, with dialogue-driven smut that reads less like a seduction than an inevitability. There's another story in this series, unfinished, and I can't wait to see what happens next.

Last but not least: two short pieces by @ineffabildaddy. I stumbled on their stories just this week and I absolutely love their approach, which I've not seen done quite this way before.

take me as your wife has a tight first-person perspective as Crowley meets Aziraphale for a meal and imagines (or is it his imagination?) that Aziraphale is suggesting Certain Things about how they might occupy themselves later. Indeed, is he suggesting even more? Something about their relationship? Or is it all in Crowley's head?

Only in Dreams is kind of a companion piece, from Aziraphale's point of view -- though hundreds of years later. This one's set after the events of S2 and although just as romantic as take me as your wife, it also offers an ineffable take on the ol' glory hole concept. Just in case you thought I was getting soft. 😏

@ineffabildaddy has a whole series of poems and ficlets like these and I can't wait to explore them all.

#good omens #fic recs #good omens fic recs #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #rare pair #muriel

134 notes · View notes

vixensbrainrotts · 4 months

Text

Food baby <Scenario>

Content: Scenario, various characters

Tropes: established relationships, crack

Warnings: food (?), overconsumption

Summary: Food baby, nuf said.

Vixen's two cents: Based on real-life experiences. swear that Italian food stuffs so hard but it's too good wtf. anyway here's a short little thing! lmk if you enjoy, and who you think fits into this as well. if you do and have an idea of your own, ASK!!!! REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!! now enjoy!!

"Eugh." the sound was guttural and less than sexy when he made it, clutching his stomach when you two exited the Restaurant you had just eaten in.

Smiling, you glance over his shoulder to see him shuffling along, full and exhausted by the eating. "You alright?" you ask slowing down, matching your speed to his. "Myeah." His voice sounded strained. "Foodbaby." he concluded and closed his eyes, halting for a moment.

Chuckling, you asked with a smile on your face "Really? What's its name?". He groaned and tilted his head up, one hand supporting his back as the other rubbed his belly. "I dunno. Something Italian..." he heaved, catching his breath from those very exhausting ten feet he had put between him and the restaurant.

"Carlos." he decided, waddling on with a determined squint in his face.

"wow..." you feigned, walking alongside him, nodding. "How many months?" you played along and grinned, awaiting his answer.

You had told him not to eat all that much, but he as per usual didn't listen, and stuffed his face with two precursors, one small soup, one main dish (and half of yours because 'it tastes so good!'), and two deserts as well as seemingly bottomless home-made lemonade mixes.

Now he paid the price as per usual. This was more than common: going out to eat together for a date, stuffing himself with too much of everything, and then ending up in a complete food coma, brain contently swimming in gluttony, but stomach full and painful.

"Like twelve." He burped and allowed himself to fall forward, supporting himself by the nearest lamppost.

"Right. Let's get you home then." you laughed and walked ahead, knowing that he would follow (eventually).

-HANMA SHUJI, MANJIRO (MIKEY) SANO, NAHOYA KATAWA, Shinichiro Sano, Takemichi Hanagaki, (and anyone else you think fits- let me know and ill add them)

152 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

Text

The Grey Zone 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: It's a Monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

You’ve always been the kid at the table of adults. Even now, legally of age, you feel like the same child forgotten on the sideline. The most acknowledgement you get is from your father when you thoughtlessly lean an elbow on the table or slouch. Sometimes, you think the fact that you’re still breathing is a disappointment to him.

“Thinking of converting the garage…” your dad says, “or we’ll wait till the kid is out and do something with her room.”

You don’t react. It comes up a lot. When you show him your pay cheque, he tells you exactly what to do with your money.

How much you should save so you can get out of his house. You’re not left with much else as he takes interest for your tuition; which he’s kindly allowed you to hold off on paying back until you complete your degree. It’s better than most people deal with, better than some debt collector chipping away at your credit.

“You’re a fucking busy body,” Mr. Hansen chortles as he stirs around with his spoon. You’re not a fan of the dish either. “You ever put any of that energy into, I don’t know, fucking your wife.”

Your spoon hits off your bowl but you try not to show your shock. Your father chokes and your mother guffaws drunkenly. Mr. Hansen is crass but usually when he doesn’t know you’re listening.

“At the table?” Your father huffs.

“He has a point…” your mother mutters.

“What? We’re all adults? I’m teasin’ you, Ray,” he insists, undeterred by your dad’s hot glare, “I’m just thinking out loud and there’s a tension here. Someone’s not getting fucked.”

“Lloyd, my daughter–”

“Oh, so you do know she’s here?” Hansen scoffs, “she’s grown. She can hear the fuck word a few times.”

Your father sputters, speechless. For once, he has no reprimand at the ready. He is a man who always has his way faced with another who can steamroll any refusal.

“Whatever, I was gonna ask you something important,” Hansen diffuses the conversation with the shift in tone, “I bought a lake house up north. I’m not handy, you know that. Not in that way,” he chuckles and your mother giggles into her wine.

Your father sighs and sits back as he lifts his chin, crossing his arms as he squints at his guest. That look doesn’t work on a man like Hansen. You look between them, waiting for either to explode.

Hansen smirks and sits back, mimicking your father’s posture but keeping his arms open. He braces his thighs as he puffs out his chest. You never noticed before the way his shirt perfectly fit him, clinging to his well-toned muscles.

“I’ll pay you. Same as any contractor. And you can bring the family to enjoy the lake,” Hansen counters, “enough for you to continue tearing this place apart.”

“Hmmm,” your father rolls his tongue under his lips.

“It’s a good idea,” your mother slurs, “it’s been forever since we went on vacation.”

“You just got back from Malibu two weeks ago,” your father chides.

“I mean, as a family,” she leans heavily on the table, her finger hooked on the stem of her wine glass, “I love the lake,” she looks as Hansen, pouting flirtily, “I just bought a bunch of new swimsuits.”

“Well, it gets pretty cold up there. Even this time of year. It’s why I bought the place. I hate the heat.”

“Oh, you seem to handle it well,” your mother winks.

Your father brings his hand down on the table, causing every dish to tremble. “I’ll think about it, Hansen. But you gotta think this out, materials and all that.”

“Zoning’s taken care of. All that paperwork bullshit,” Hansen says surely, “seems like it would be a good opportunity for you to get away and let go.”

You peer around the table. Your mom leans back in her chair, chin in her hand as she watches your father. Hansen takes his spoon again and smoothly stirs the bright broth. Your father shakes his head.

“Like I said, I’ll think about it.”

🖤

Despite how often you attract unwanted leers and looks, you have a knack for disappearing. As the adults leave the table, you clean up, fading into the background but not quite fitting into the pristine aesthetic of the house. Most of the bowls still hold a decent amount of the fishy bouillabaisse. It tasted fine enough but who likes that much fish.

You dump each and start washing out the dishes, putting away those pots and pans you dealt with before dinner was served. If you don’t do it, your mother won’t, and your father will chuck a fit about a single dirt dish left in the sink. So you go about the task, earbuds in, nodding your head along with the music.

Your dark nail polish flakes off in the warm water as your scrub with a sponge. It’s fine, it’s cheap. You want to try the new mystic blue you got anyway. You set a bowl in the rack and nearly scream as you feel a squeeze around your hip.

You splash water through the air as you spin to face your accoster. Mr. Hansen stands close as he holds an empty wine glass. Your mother’s lipstick stains the brim. You reach with a dripping, shaky hand to pause your music with a tap.

“I didn’t hear you,” you gasp.

“Oh? I thought you were just playing hard to get,” he twirls the glass, “your mom’s off to bed. Face down.”

“Um, okay,” you reach for the glass but he moves it out of your reach. You furrow your nose and retract your hand.

“So…” he wiggles the glass thoughtfully, his eyes clinging to you, “what do you think?”

“About?”

“The lake house.”

“Er, I don’t know. If dad wants to…”

“I don’t care what daddy wants, what do you want?” His blue eyes gleam, the dark outlines feeding the lustre of his oceanic irises, “seems like no one’s ever asked you, sweetheart.”

You shrug.

“Could be nice,” you say. You don’t get your hopes up. If your dad accepts, you think he’ll somehow manage to leave you and your mother behind.

“And… if dear old daddy did say no, and I asked you to come anyway…”

You blink, confused. Why would he do that? He laughs at you.

“Think about it,” he hands over the glass, “this place is a drag. Young girls like you need that distance. To find yourself.”

You don’t know what to say or think. You really don’t understand what he’s offering. You don’t get where his sudden interest in you came from. Mr. Hansen was only ever peripheral. He was there to give colour commentary and needle away at your father’s patience.

“I don’t know,” he backs up, “maybe they don’t make swimsuits in your style…” You hold the glass close to your chest, caught like a deer in headlights. “But it’s a private lake.” He pokes his tongue and winks before spinning on his heel. “No rules…” he calls over his shoulder as he passes through the door.

You shudder and turn back to the sink. You plunge the glass into the water and swirl it to rinse the residue of wine. Hansen is just like that. He’s always looking for a reaction. You suppose you’re old enough now that you’re a new victim for his jokes. That makes more sense. You’ve always made a good target.

You tap your earbud and drown out your racing thoughts with the music. Just finish this up and you can go hide in your room.

🖤

You shut off the kitchen light and quietly pad through the house. You climb the stairs as an eerie silence permeates the space. Mr. Hansen must be gone since your mother turned in. She often didn’t end the night without some grand finale.

As you near your bedroom door, you notice that it’s slightly ajar. That damn mechanism. Your father can fix every part of this house except for that. You sigh and push it open as you enter, stopping short as you find a shadow standing by your bookshelf. The coffin shaped furniture holds more than just books but some crow statuettes and deathly trinkets.

The glow of your lamp casts a purplish light over Mr. Hansen’s back. He hasn’t heard you. He closes the book in his hand and slides it between the others. He pauses and takes the deck of tarot before he can knock it over with his hand. He shuffles through and you flip on the overhead light.

He turns, unshaken by your entrance. He keeps the cards fanned out in his hands. He smiles at you.

“I never really looked close at these sorts of things,” he says as he runs his thumb over the emperor card, “they’re pretty.”

“What are you doing in here?” You ask.

“I got lost,” he says coolly, “can you read these?”

He smoothly pushes through your chagrin, sidestepping your question. That’s annoying but he’s older and he’s a guest. You didn’t need him ratting to your father about your attitude.

“Yeah, they’re really just for fun though,” you near him and reach for the cards. He claps them into a neat deck and keeps them away from you.

“I like fun,” he says, “can you read mine?”

“I don’t know. It’s late–”

“How much?” He asks curtly.

“What?”

“I’ve seen those ladies down at the market. What do they charge for a reading? I’ll pay you double.”

“No, it’s–”

“I’ll buy you some new boots or something,” he barters.

“Why?”

“I’m bored. This place is boring.” He says. You won’t ask why he doesn’t just leave. You inhale and clamp your lips tight. “You must hate it. So… I wanna know my future.”

“I… fine,” you shrug, “shuffle the cards.”

You look around. There’s really no good place to do the reading. He shuffles the cards and strides by you, brushing against your arm. He sits on the side of your bed. Alright, well, you guess that’s fine.

You move your laptop and books and climb up, smoothing the blanket before you. You sit on one legs and keep your fingers on the duvet.

“You need to ask a question?” You say.

“A question?”

“Yeah, like something about what you should focus on at work or in your relationships,” you explain, “something to guide the cards.”

“Hmm, oh, well, the second one.”

“Okay… any specific relationships?” You prompt, “like family–”

“With you.”

“What?”

“Me and you.”

“Uhhhh,” you drone, “that’s… alright. Focus on that then.”

You put your hand out. He hands you the cards and you fan them out. He watches, tilting his head as he brings his knee up onto the bed and faces you straight on. The strangeness of the situation does not escape you. It sears down your neck.

“Pick three cards.”

He does so easily. One, two, three. Most people would take their time but he is always straight to the point. You point to where he should place each card. The first there, the second next to it, and the third above.

“Alright, so,” you set the deck aside, “this is basic. The first card represents you, the second would be the other person.”

“You,” he smirks.

“Sure,” you say, “and the third, would be both together.”

“Hmm, interesting,” he rests his hand on his thigh, tapping his fingers.

“Alright then, flip the first one.”

He does as you say. You consider the card.

“Temperance, reversed,” you announce, “it means you like excess, you often go to extremes, so much so that your life often lacks balance and harmony.”

He nods and clucks, “I can’t disagree.”

“Second,” you direct him.

He flips it.

“Nine of swords, upright,” you utter. You let the air linger.

“Oh, what does that mean?”

“Anxiety, or sadness, dread,” you don’t look up at him, “so this other person… me, I guess, has a lot on their mind to worry about.”

“Wow, the cards really are magic.”

You wince and look at him. Is it that obvious?

“Final card.”

“Oh, I’m excited,” he turns it over, “what does fate have in store for us?”

“Page of wands, upright; represents exploration, excitement, and…” you pause as you search your mind, “freedom?”

“Sounds like a good time to me,” he snickers.

“They’re just cards,” you quickly gather up the trio. It means nothing.

“Do you read palms?” He asks as you put the cards with the rest of the deck and shimmy to the edge of the bed.

“No, I… no.” You eke out as you let yourself down to the floor, “look, thanks for humouring me but I’m tired–”

“Hard to tell with all the eyeliner,” he remarks.

You give him a sharp look. He smirks as he turns both legs over the edge of the bed and leans back on his hands. It’s almost a boyish expression.

“I’m pretty beat myself,” he says, “cozy.”

He lets himself fall onto his back. You put the deck back on the shelf and chew on the situation. What the hell is going on? He’s invading your space, mocking you, and you’re just letting him.

“Maybe you should go home–”

“Pretty big bed–”

“I kick in my sleep,” you go to the end of the bed and he turns his head towards you. You see that devilish gleam in his eyes.

“You bring a lot of boys in here?”

“What?” Your voice wilts out, barely rising.

“Easy enough to sneak em through the window. Got that tree right out there, they could just–” He motions with his hand, “zip right in.”

You let your anger burn through. You get that from your father. You fight not to let it win over but it rises so hotly that sometimes you can’t.

“I don’t appreciate this.”

“What do you mean?” He rubs his chest.

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he insists.

“You are. This is my room and I…” you swallow and ball your fists, “I want you to get out.”

“Sweetheart, really, I’m not–”

“You are. You can’t say or do anything that hasn’t been said or done before. I get it, okay? So please, I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.”

He blows out and turns his head straight. He deflates and reluctantly pushes himself up. He tidies his hair as he stands.

“You’ll see, baby doll,” he struts lazily to the door, “the last thing I’m doing is making fun of you.” he looks back at you, his lips slanting, “I’m out for a different sort of fun…”

You storm towards him and shoo him out the door. He cackles and you slam the door behind him. Out. Get out! You feel like you need to cleanse your room now. You hear his rocky laughter on the other side as he lingers, his hand hitting the door before dragging down it.

“Sweet dreams,” he calls through the door.

He pushes off, the door jolting in the frame, and his footsteps peter away. You huff and face the room. He never told you why he was in there. You cross to the bed and drag your laptop and books off. As you do, you smell a trace of his cologne disturbed by the movement. You turn away and stack them on your desk.

You are ready for the day to end, even if tomorrow holds little promise.

#the grey zone #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au

236 notes · View notes

bu-blegh-ost · 7 months

Text

What Chip's current condition may possibly mean for both him and the crew (a theory of sorts)

Spoilers for ep. 109 and 110. Heed the warning.

Okay, so ever since ep. 109 came out I've been frantically reading about undead and what does it mean for your pc to be undead. I stayed silent about it, cause I wasn't sure if Nik could fix this, but now that ep. 110 is out I'd like to share some of the things I found, for folks like me, who do not know much abt DnD yet.

So, in a long list of features the undead have, most prominent problem is how hard it is to heal them. None of Jay's or Gillion's spells can heal Chip now, we'd need a spell that normally damages people, like necromancy spells, since they have a reverse efffect on the undead, and none of them has access to that currently. Not only that, once Chip's health reaches zero at this state, that's it. No death saves, no going unconscious or going down. That's it, which is why the moment he turned undead, Jay started spamming the temporary HP canon. So Chip doesn't lose any of his core health pool. If he did die in this state, from then on, only a spell called Wish (if I'm not mistaken a lvl 9 Sorcerer wish, so Gillion could do that if he cranked up three more levels in sorcery real quick) or True Ressurection could save him. But these two spells would also bring Chip back to life as a regular person, not the undead, so it would be cool to seek out someone who could do that for them at the most convenient time.

To balance it out, Chip is resistant to a shit ton of attack types, including poison, physical, necrotic and many other. To top it off with Chip's evasion skills, I'm giving him good chances to either minimalize or negate most damage in this form. And well, considering everything, he'd be wise to take every opportunity to do so, joke damage taking is no longer an option, I think. Also Gillion needs to be very careful with radiant damage around Chip, cause it's very effective on the undead. Chip getting hit by Gillion's strike may damage him greatly, and the two need to be very careful around each other from now on :(((

And the most interesting thing I found is the Undead Hunger variant. Some undead can just live on for centuries and be fine without a need to feed on something. But some, even the intelligent ones like Chip, may need a bit more than that, and given that very ominous intelligence check Grizzly made him roll at the end of the day, I'm thinking he's implementing the hunger rule on Chip. Lemme tell you a bit about it.

So Undead Hunger is a Variant Rule that DMs use on player characters that are undead sometimes. And that means that once in a while Chip would have to feed on some sort of specific type of morsel to satisfy his craving, or suffer the cosequences. There are two variants of undead that can make roll for this: Inescapable Craving or Diet Dependent. The player in that case rolls for willpower, which DMs usually make a wisdom or intelligence check. In our case Grizzly chose intelligence, and Chip passed with a 19. The DC for Inescapably Craving Undead is 25, but the DC for Diet Dependent Undead is 15. So from that I deduced that Chip would be a Diet Dependent Undead, since he passed the roll.

Hunger for the Undead is like addiction to the living. This means that unless Chip can resist it with a succesful roll, he may become more agressive, anxious, violent or even self-destructive the longer he is denied a preferred meal. If he can't eat, he'll have to roll for keeping himself at bay every three days. He doesn't have to roll if he eats.

So you may ask now: what happens if he fails one to many times? This is the interesting part. So if Chip fails his once per three days intelligence check, the DM will make him take ability damage. That means that one of his stats (wisdom, strength, dexterity etc.) will reduce by a whatever number Grizzly sees fit (Chip can get all the lost points back the moment he eats). In the guide I've read it says that wisdom is the most crucial ability score to lose, tho I'm unsure if the DM takes away only from wisdom or if he can take any of the stats, I may need to read more on that. But the thing is, the more rolls Chip fails, the more wisdom he may loose, and please note, Chip does not have much wisdom to begin with (but he does have high intelligence so thank the gods for that at least).

The less wisdom Chip has, the more desperate he gets when it comes to eating. He may start seeking out more risky ways to get fed or do things he normally wouldn't to get it. Hunger can't kill him though, it may just make him lose himself (hence that comment of Grizzly's about him needing to hold onto his sense of self, at least that's what I think that is). Once Chip reaches wisdom score 0, Bizzly actually loses control over him, and Grizzly takes over Chip and he plays Chip as he was a wild enemy beast. In that state Chip can throw himself on anyone or anything that can provide him food, his mind completely lost. He can hurt others, attack his crew. He can do anything the DM determines a starved mindless beast would do.

He can come back to his senses once more, when he does feed on whatever is decided his preferred meal is, all his wisdom regained and all, but the consequences of his actions, when he was not himself, the dreadful realisation that he is now a monster, who needs to be kept in check so he doesn't hurt the people he loves...This may be a lot for Chip to take. If this were to happen, he'll need a lot of his crewmates' support and reassurance, and a lot of honesty will be demanded from Chip. He'd have to warn people around him and make sure everyone knows how he's feeling, if he needs help in finding food. Casue hiding this hunger may result in tragedy.

And of course, it doesn't help that they are where they are now. In any case, if Grizz decides that Chip's favourite meal is humanoid flesh (beyond cruel is what that would be), they are fucked, basically. If it is the flesh of any other creature or animal, well they are also fucked, because they are in a motherfucking Black Sea, so good luck finding anything consumable like this either way.

But hey, of course do remeber that in the end these are just my conclusions based on what I read. Grizzly might not be even using any of these rules, cause he's the DM and he can do whatever he wants. I just thought that based on what we saw, this is very likely to happen (consider it a theory of mine for the time being). If you would like to read more about it, I'll leave you the link to this one really good website that I found most of the information on. I can't confirm its relaibility, but it looks very informative, comprehensive and thought out, and thus far was the most thorough source I found, so I'm personally willing to trust it. But please do find out for yourself. That'll be it, see you and I hope you had fun reading!

Link to the website: https://www.realmshelps.net/monsters/aboutundead.shtml#undeadhunger

UPDATE!!!!!!!!!!!

Tags written out by the wonderful @dinzeeyz !!! They explained here what is ACTUALLY happening to Chip, not a theory, facts from the boys themselves! Please make sure to read them!!!

Well, there it is folks! Of course, I do not mind that I was wrong! The fun part in theorizing is not being right or wrong, but the journey one takes to find out the truth! And the truth is SO much more horrifying than I could ever think! You see, I was kinda thinking abt ways for Chip to still function while undead, but there is NO FUNCTIONING WHATSOEVER APPARENTLY. Grizzly's not playing, and the prospect of losing Chip forever is real oh dear OMG, that's absolutely insane!!! Please feel welcome to discuss this, I'll be definitely making more posts about this once I have a little more time but holy shit guys. We need to fix that boy up F A S T. If we lose Chip, I'm not recovering-

#jrwi riptide #just roll with it #chip jrwi #gillion jrwi #jrwi #theory #undead #jrwi spoilers #spoilers #jrwi riptide spoilers #GUYS GUYS GUYS #this theory has already been disproven by rolled and THE TRUTH IS EVEN CRAZIER #pls check out the update #https://www.tumblr.com/bu-blegh-ost/730136739405086720/tags-written-out-by-the-wonderful-dinzeeyz?source=share

321 notes · View notes

night-raven-tattler · 4 months

Note

Hello Mx Tattly! I really enjoyed your ideal types post involving Heartslabyul characters. I like the idea of Riddle liking his significant other being someone earning his respect. So in this request, if they are open, of Riddle having a Yuu!Female reader s/o that is naturally gifted prodigy in fencing & swordsmanship, making her a bold, fiercely talented swordswoman who usually wields double swords (but is just as well with one). Both mostly got closer after his overblot since she was involved in defending him (somehow).

Just headcanons of Riddle having a s/o that is physically stronger than him (and affectionate when just the two of them since she also isn’t much of a pda person)

Extra: After getting to know a bit more of Diasomnia, she also manages to go under Lilia’s training after finding out he trains Sebek and Silver because she wants to continue sharpening her skills and seeing any form of improvement.

(She’s originally an OC of mine but idk if you take OC requests and didn’t wanna assume, so 😭)

Anyway thank you! I’m sorry if I wrote a lot.. 😭

Hello anon! Mx Tattly appreciates your kind words! Currently they don't do OC requests, however she might consider answering such requests in the future. He is sorry if the writing is not what you envisioned, especially since she didn't include Riddle being "protected" per se by the reader character, as they considered their narrative choice is one Riddle would appreciate more. He is also grateful for the brainrot you caused, as they are an enjoyer of sword weilding characters themselves. Hopefully you can still enjoy!

A knight fit for a queen

Characters: Riddle × F/GN!Reader* (romantic, pre-established relationship)

*the reader character has no gender defining charactersitics mentioned

Warnings: swords, book 1 spoilers, violence, mentions of hospital-like settings

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Ace laughed in your face when you told him, Deuce and Grim to wait in front of Ramshackle for you to get something, and you came out of the dorm with a pair of swords dangling from your waist, supporting your dominant hand

“Why are you bringing a sword with you? Where did you even find that thing?!”

It was an older pair of swords you found abandoned in one of the Ramshackle rooms, mere days before Ace and Deuce decided to challenge Riddle for his housewarden spot

Something about them told you they would be useful in the situation at hand

But even after hearing your reasoning, Ace still laughed in your face

Boy, was he proven wrong not too long after...

Riddle was just punched by Ace and, before your brain was able to catch up to what was happening, Riddle spiraled out of control

Everyone was trying to reason with him, yet it seemed as if he completely shut out everyone around him

Everyone turned from disobedient students into living targets of his fury

The gravity of the situation finally sunk in when Riddle summoned the rose trees all around the maze and ordered them to attack Ace

Yet, before thinking in through, you jumped in front of Ace and sliced away the threatening branches

They detached from the trunk, turning into cut pieces of cards as they flew past you and your friend

If you wouldn't have stepped in, Trey’s signature spell would’ve kicked in too late

The sky darkened as Riddle’s inner world started to collapse, bringing chaos and destruction to the outside world as well as he overblotted

“In my world, I am the law. I am order made manifest! The only response I will accept from you is ‘Yes, Housewarden Riddle’! All who defy me will lose their heads!”

And, while your Heartslabyul friends and Grim decided to face Riddle head-on, you decided to stay back and protect any incoming danger towards the students the Headmage was evacuating

The crowd of students around the magic mirror diminished, so you returned to the main place of action

Which turned out to be a good call, as a lot of flying debris caused by rogue spells kept flying towards the students

And you managed to redirect any incoming danger with your mysterious swords

Just in time to see Riddle collapse to the ground

You stayed close to Riddle when he woke up and was taken to the nurse's office, and visited him as often as you could

While you felt a personal duty to help out Ace and Deuce repair their destroyed labyrinth, you also wanted to keep Riddle company, mostly to assure him there were no hard feelings between the two of you after what happened

…But your intention were not as clear as you intended initially

Riddle was mostly silent and cautious, and so were you, which made things kind of awkward

Compared to his wary nature, you were trying to be at least a little bit comforting

And he finally realised your intentions when you brought him some tea in a thermos

He was truly astonished by your gesture, even touched by your small kindness

It was some milk tea with herbs he didn’t quite recognise, sweetened with a bit of honey

Bits and pieces of a memory of his crying about milk tea with honey flooded his mind, piecing together the puzzle of your intentions

Not only did you remember such a small thing, but you also went out of your way to cater to him while he was still atoning to his mistakes

Shortly after, Heartslabyul started getting back to its orderly peace as the unbirthday party put together was fast approaching

And you were very satisfied with the peace and quiet

What you didn’t expect, however, was Riddle’s sudden summon to his room directed to you and you alone

You entered Riddle’s room, and he turned around in his chair towards you, leaving the paperwork he was looking over unattended

He was back to working as diligently as ever, something you weren’t sure was appropriate so early in his recovery

But Riddle’s face looked serene and at peace despite his serious eyes, and you decided not to comment

“I believe it is time for the two of us to have a proper conversation about what happened. I know your visits while I was bedridden were… not the most conversation-filled, but I would rather not leave any rocks unturned.”

As gentlemanly as ever, Riddle guided you to an empty seat in his room, and he sat down only after you sat down yourself

“I want to apologise to you for what you witnessed.”

You wanted to interject, but Riddle stopped you with a gesture of his hand

“As a housewarden, my duty is not only to maintain order within the group of students under my guidance, but also to ensure their safety during a moment of crisis. As I was the, um… ‘crisis’ in this case, I was unable to do so. I apologise for falling short on my duty, and for having you make up for my mistakes.”

You were taken aback by the apology, but Riddle was not done yet

“I would also like… to thank you.”

You listened as Riddle poured his heart out to you

“I have heard you were a main participant in ensuring the safety of the student body. It might be hard to believe, but…”

Something in Riddle’s eyes softened, before his gray eyes regained their composed coldness

“I am not cold hearted. I may be harsh, but I care about my card soldiers.”

And you were aware of that

While you helped the Heartslabyul students put themselves together, you’ve heard the grateful stories of a relieved group of students who praised Riddle for his dedication and meticulous nature

They told many stories about Riddle taking time off his schedule to tutor struggling students, who always did his best to offer guidance and who never raised his voice while explaining to students how to tend to the Heartslabyul animals

“I may have fallen short, but you have proven yourself to have a good head on your shoulder in times of need. I thank you for ensuring the safety of my card soldiers.”

You took a few seconds to process his words before formulating your response

“I was just… fulfilling my duty.”

“Pardon?”

“I mean, I am the ‘prefect’, right? I also have a duty to the students. I just did my best to act according to my role.”

Riddle’s eyes widened slightly, and something sparkled in his eyes as a proud smile blossomed on his face

And your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat, being witness of the first time you gave Riddle a reason to smile

“That’s a very elegant answer. You sure are an interesting person, Prefect.”

As time went on, you and Riddle became good friends

Your friendship mainly consisted of you finding your way to Riddle and striking conversations as you followed him around

You didn’t have a particularly threatening aura, but the swords you used during the Heartslabyul event became a permanent part of your uniform

Initially the teachers were not too on board with a permanently armed student, especially since the student body was filled with rambunctious individuals

Yet, Riddle vouched that you knew when it was appropriate to use the swords, putting the professor’s minds somewhat at ease

Lines started blurring little by little as your attachment to Riddle became more obvious, and Rook’s teasing towards Trey about him “losing his spot as Riddle’s knight” started reaching your ears

But you didn’t quite mind

And neither did Riddle

He was, if anything, in awe at your abilities

Riddle was amazed at how natural swords looked in your hands, how your sways and slashes were always forceful yet elegant, wide yet precise

And the sweaty sight of you after a training session did, admittedly, leave Riddle with a racing heart and mind

But, above all, he admired your dedication to improve despite having no guidance

And, with a little push from Ace and Deuce, he put together a plan to help you in that regard

You just entered your dorm when the most unusual gathering of people was seated in your living room

While Ace and Deuce were around often enough to become honorary Ramshackle members slash dorm decoration, Riddle, Sebek and Silver were not part of your usual guest list

You were surprised to hear the invitation extended by a sleepy Silver and a very reluctant Sebek for you to join their training sessions

And it was revealed how Riddle used his connection to the two guards as fellow equestrian club members to ask them for a favor

After you all settled some details with the guards, they took their leave, and exited the dorm as Sebek kept yelling about not allowing you to fall short

And being the teasing pieces of work that Ace, Deuce and Grim were, they left you and Riddle alone as they winked at you

“Is this your way of making sure I keep ‘fulfilling my duty’ as the resident day saver and Hearstlabyul knight?”

Your teasing made Riddle throw you an unimpressed glance that was quickly replaced by a smile

“I am quite sure this will do nothing to diminish the use of your newly acquired moniker, but my priority is to ensure you keep honing the craft you are so obviously proud of.”

Riddle’s words were truly touching, and it was so like him to go out of his way to help the people he cared about…

“Besides, I don’t really mind the moniker. It must mean the students are starting to recognise your skill and dedication.”

That statement really made your heart skip a beat

You hesitated before you took Riddle’s hand into your own

“Well… If you don’t mind the nickname, then I don’t mind it either.”

And you brought Riddle’s hand to your lips, leaving a kiss so soft Riddle almost though he only imagined the soft press of your lips to his knuckles

He took his leave soon after your biggest show of affection yet, but you didn’t mind

Despite Riddle’s reddening face usually being considered a bad omen, you quite enjoyed the brilliant glow of red on his cheeks as he left your dorm

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #no beta we die like ortho

124 notes · View notes