#like yeah yeah there probably is but I have to put effort into searching that up so I am going to complain for a few more seconds and go | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alexa-fika · 5 months

Note

hey so idk if your requests are on but can you do a asl x sister!reader where instead of ace dying we die? we are the youngest and how about we add shanks reacting to our death cuz im pretty sure hes like a fauther figrure to the asl.

Sickly Cuddles ( ASL x sick!sister!reader x Shanks)

A/N: My poor heart cannot handle any type of death but I did not want you to go home empty handed so instead you get a sick scenario with the siblings +Shanks, this double dips as that one request I got for anon asking for Mihawk or Asl with sick reader, you get both : ).

Dividers by @/saradika

“Readerrrrr, Sabo is making breakfast. Are you coming? can I eat your portion?” Luffy calls, entering her room

“A-ah Luffy! I thought you guys were out today?” She nervously laughs

"We changed our plans and stayed here; now, will you come down for breakfast, or should I eat your share? Luffy asks

“You can…you can... Achoo!”

Luffy stares at her for a second, a smile slowly growing on his face as the seconds pass

“Luffy,” she calls warningly

“Don’t tell them!”

Luffy covers his mouth, hiding his smile from her; the next moment, he runs out. She can hear his voice shouting,

"Sabo! Ace!”

“Luffy!” She groans quickly, running towards her closet to hide. She loved her brothers, she truly did, but Sabo and Ace would not let her see the light of day if they caught on to her having a cold, and Luffy…well, Luffy would manage to find something to poke at regardless

“Ace! Sabo! Reader is sick!”

At the announcement, both flame men start heading to their sister's room, their loud steps resounding through the house

"Huh? Where is she?" Sabo asks, looking at the now-empty room

“Shishishi, She’s hiding again,” comments Luffy, watching his brothers hunt for his sister

"If you don't come out, we will come for you," adds Ace.

She peered through the cracks of the closet, looking as their brothers looked around the room, and prepared to search the house until the familiar itch started growing on her nose. She had tried to hold it, but eventually, the loud sneeze sounded around the room

She shrieks as the closet door opens. Ace entered trough and easily scooped her up, throwing her over his back

"Well, that was easy," Ace comments with an amused tone as he carries her.

Sabo quickly follows his brother with an amused face.

Luffy is laughing his guts out.

"Reader got caught."

Despite her efforts, she couldn’t help the laugh that came bursting from her at his antics

“Let go of me, Ace! Im feeling okay!”

"No, you're not," says Ace as he carries her.

"You're shivering! and you're red as a tomato," points out Sabo

She squeaks as he unceremoniously throws her on the bed, glaring at Ace in a joking manner, who just grins at her in response

“It’s just a little sneeze; it’s probably nothing, guys.”

“She was coughing all night,” cut in Luffy, poking his head in the room briefly, quickly darting out of sight as his comment was received with a pillow chucked his way, leaving with a trail of laughs behind him

“Traitor!” She hisses

Sabo shook his head with a smile, placing a gently kiss on her sister’s forehead, staying in said position for a few seconds, making all protests halt as she relaxed in his hold

“Hmm, you have a fever, too,” he said, backing away

“Yeah, you are burning up,” adds Ace as he checks her forehead

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says as Sabo’s holds becomes more firm

“But I had plans with Robin and Koala today!”

"Not today; you need to stay in bed," Sabo says sternly

"And we'll call them to tell them of the change in plans," Ace adds

“Please?” She begs, putting her hands together

"No, you're sick," replies Sabo, with Ace nodding beside him, making it very clear she has no choice in the matter.

She groans, dropping her head back into bed

“Luffy, go fetch some of the medicine for Reader,” Sabo calls to his little brother, making Luffy sprint off like he was just handed a race track

Ace sits by her side while Sabo opens the window, letting some of the cold winter air in.

“No! I can tough it out; no need for medicine.”

"You'll take the medicine and rest," says Sabo while opening a bottle of medicine after Luffy handed said bottle to him, grinning at her

She scoffs, flipping the finger towards Luffy

Luffy sticks his tongue at her. Sabo chuckles momentarily, taking the chance and giving her the medicine as she and Luffy kept at it.

She sputters, glaring at him, a pout on her red face wincing at the taste

Ace leans over and pats her on the head as she keeps pouting.

“What a grumpy sick child,” Sabo comments with a hint of amusement in his voice

“You guys are mean.”

“You're just grumpy,” Ace replies with a smile

“And adorable,” continues Sabo

“And grumpy,” Luffy repeats

“Oi!”

Ace laughs, pulling and squishing her cheeks

“you’re adorable when you’re grumpy.”

She pushes his hands away,

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping me get better? You guys are just teasing me.”

“And this is how we take care of you,” replies Sabo

“with lots of teasing,” Ace adds.

She rolls her eyes, about to throw another comeback, until she falls in a fit of coughs

Sabo sighs

“Okay, it’s time for you to lay down; enough joking around,” he said, pushing her back on the bed and pulling the covers over her

"You need a few good days of bed rest," he comments

"I'm gonna be watching over you," Ace adds as he sits beside her on the bed.

“So you better get used to my annoying presence,” continues Ace

“I’ll check up on you later," Sabo says with a smile before he departs.

“You need sleep, reader,” Ace says as his hands start to tuck her in even more

“Night night,” he finishes wrapping the blanket over her more

She glances at her older brother

“Can you let me go out today?” She whispers, looking at Ace with a sly grin

He raises his eyebrow, letting out a small chuckle

“Not a chance,” replies Ace, shaking his head.

“No more discussion.”

“Boohoo”

“You're a child. I hope you know that?” He comments

“You can stop pouting. Not going to work,” he adds

Ace can't help but laugh, jumping into the bed with her

He pulls her slightly onto his lap, wrapping the blanket tightly around her body.

She smiles in his embrace,

“not fair; you and Sabo are so warm; you guys are like walking heaters with your mera-mera fruits.”

“You’re not so far off from being a heater with that fever of yours,” replies Ace with a smirk

He continues snuggling her and rocking her back and forth in bed.

She grumbles at his comment, snuggling into him further, the combination of the gently rocking and his emanating warm a sure recipe to sleep as she is slowly lulled to sleep

Ace continues rocking her back and forth; a slight smirk crosses his face, enjoying how easy she was to handle once she got to cuddle

As she leans into him and falls asleep, he continues the rocking and wraps his arms around her, keeping her nice and cozy

It isn't until a few hours later when she opens her eyes rather than her oldest brother lying in bed with her, it was now replaced with the familiar figure of her uncle

“Hmm? Uncle Shanks?”

Shanks smiles as he runs his fingers through her hair

“I’m here for you, dear,” he replies gently while wrapping the blanket even tighter around his little niece.

She smiles, hugging him

“When did you get here?” she mumbles

“I came in a little while ago, once I heard you had a fever, Luffy gave me a call,” he replied with a smile

He adjusts the covers, snuggling her closer to him

“How are you feeling?” he asks with a soft voice

“Im okay; Sabo and Ace are just worrywarts,”

Shanks chuckles as he strokes her hair

"Well, you are their only sister, the youngest one, too," he says, giving her a small kiss on her forehead

She Hums at his comment

“Will you stay the night?”

"Are you asking me to stay, or did you order me to?" he responds with a smirk

"Either way, I was already planning on it; I will be staying here until you're feeling better."

She scoffs out a laugh at his reply

"And what's so funny, missy?" he asks with a fake insulted tone

"I will be spending every night taking care of my favorite niece," he replies, ruffling her hair

“Uncle Beck was right; you’re an idiot, Uncle Shanks,” she laughs sleepily

Shanks shakes his head, smiling at her

"And you're insufferable when you're sick."

"Get some rest" he continues, wrapping himself around her and snuggling with her.

Sorry! I know this wasent what you were expecting but I got a fluffy heart plus, im not sure what you mean with ‘instead of Ace, we die’ cause Ace din’t die 👀 He’s sailing with Whitebeard, getting cooked meals by Thatch and hanging with his fellow commanders

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

322 notes · View notes

chellestrash · 7 months

Text

Please, Mr. Ghost Face

Frank Castle x F!Reader Halloween Special (18+)

Warnings: explicit language, explicit smut, semi-public, unprotected sex, roughy sex, brat! reader, frank being kinda bitchy, oral (f!receiving) knife play, mention of blood play, teasing.

Summary: look at the title, look at the warnings, you know what it is, enjoy!!

Word count: 7.2k

AN: Oh my god okay, thank you @chelseasdagger and @suitsofwo3 for getting me to actually finish writing this (i literally felt like i was loosing my god damn mind trying to push through). I dont know why it turned out so long I dont normaly write things that are over 3k so this...yeah I really hope at least some of you will enjoy. I love reading your thoughs and feedback on my fic so please, feel free to share them. Reblogs are very appriciated as always :) HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

You're not sure how Frank managed to get his entire Halloween costume ready before you finished the few quick fixes to your makeup. Even considering the fact that it took you around an hour to get the whole look together, and he repeatedly told you no matter when he started getting ready, he'd still be finished before you. He was right. Was it annoying? Slightly, yes, but for once, him being right was actually a good thing since you were already late to a house party one of your friends decided to throw at the end of the week once most of you were finally done with work.

You fix up your lipstick and try the fake fangs on one more time before messing with your hair a bit and taking a couple steps back to check the outfit out in the mirror. Nothing too creative, just a simple well-fitted black dress, slightly shorter than what you'd usually wear, a couple of bright red details and some silver jewelry. A last minute vampire, sure, it'll do.

You straighten up the fabric and look up and down at your reflection one more time.

“Right, I think I'm ready!”

You raise your voice, making sure he’d hear you, before grabbing the last few things and turning to the door.

“So, what did you decide to go as?”

You shout again, curious about how much effort he decided to put into the whole thing this year. Halloween wasn't necessarily a holiday Frank enjoyed, but he'd do this and that occasionally just to make you happy.

“Did you figure it out?”

Another question since he didn't answer the previous one. You step out of the room, digging through your small bag in search of your phone before you walk directly into your boyfriend’s chest.

“Shit, sorry.”

You mumble and Frank grabs your arm, helping you regain the balance before you end up with your ass on the wooden floor.

“Christ, easy, 'you okay?”

Frank’s deep, groggy voice rumbles through your body, and you take a moment to fix up the dress before finally tracing your eyes up his body. You bite the inside of your cheek and it feels like the words get stuck in your throat before you can answer him.

Frank stands in front of you with his usual outfit on. Combat boots, the ones you rarely see him out of, one of the dark gray, now slightly worn off jeans, and a black tank top, his heavy, deep navy blue jacket already in his hand. The reason for your reaction doesn't have anything to do with his exceptionally ordinary choice of clothing, but rather with a thing you're not used to seeing on him.

The basic Ghost Face mask from Scream covering his face makes it rather difficult to focus on… really anything else. The loose black cloth falls onto his exposed shoulders, covering part of his neck, and you catch yourself staring at him and his body for probably slightly longer than necessary.

“Oh, fuck.”

You finally manage to get out a couple of words, and Frank lets go of your arm.

“Think it'll do?”

You catch his question this time but keep your eyes fixed on the mask as his voice flows from underneath the fabric.

“Shit, yeah, yeah it’ll do alright.”

You lean back on the nearest wall, looking over his figure from head to toe once again.

“Shit, Frank, where did you even find that?”

“Corner shop.”

He shrugs and takes a step in your direction after a moment. You feel your back pushing against the door frame, a familiar warm feeling growing between your legs when his frame grows bigger in your field of view. His shoulders and chest, slightly exposed by the tight tank top, the fabric clearly struggling some right above his sternum. You catch the corner of your lips pulling up in a confident smirk once you finally take in the whole picture.

The dark, empty eyes of the mask pierce through your own for a moment and you cross your legs nonchalantly before Frank finally reaches up to get rid of the cheap Halloween costume.

Quickly grabbing his wrist, you stop him before he’s able to pull the mask off of his face. His head tilts to the side slightly, his sudden confusion expressed by the pose.

“What?”

The question, slightly muffled by the dark fabric, only amplifies the smirk already present on your face. You grin happily at the Ghost Face character right in front of you, somehow feeling like he already knows the answer to his question.

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re into that.”

Shaking his head, he tries again but you interrupt the action one more time.

“Oh boohoo, and what if I was?”

You tease. Your impatient hands linger over his body, fingers rubbing over the fabric of both his shirt and jeans. Hooking your hand over the waistband of the jeans, you pull yourself up, pushing off of the wall and leaning forward towards him, rubbing your leg up his own slowly. The fabric of the dress slides off of you slightly, exposing a decent amount of skin. Guiding Frank's hand to the back of your body, you arch your back slightly, pushing your ass into his palm, humming satisfied once you feel his tight grip through the dress. Frank's chest expands with a loud sigh, the space between your bodies closing almost completely now. He watches you carefully; every move, every tease, every little movement you plan out carefully, seemingly only to get a desired reaction out of him.

“What if I was, Mister Ghost Face?”

Your purr, biting down on your lower lip, your hand now pressed against his chest as you gently drag your nails over the fabric. Frank grunts, the harsher touch clearly getting to him now, and you fight back some smart ass comment your brain so kindly decided to equip you with. Instead, you drop your hand to your thigh under the slit at the side of the skirt. Pulling the fabric back, you let a glimpse of the bright red underwear peek from underneath the costume. Frank finally breaks once you glare up at him suggestively.

“Mmmmm, fuck.”

He groans from behind the mask, gripping your ass firmly before pulling you onto himself, your leg hooked loosely behind his. Slipping his hand under the fabric of the dress, he digs his fingers into your flesh and you part your lips, letting out a satisfied moan in return.

“‘M not fucking you with the mask on, kid.”

Way to kill the mood. You think, but bite your tongue just in time, not willing to give up on the idea just yet. You can't help it. To be completely honest, it feels like his fault. You didn’t make him look this good in the costume, well, part of it, you never anticipated he’d pick out this exact one either. The fact that it was able to get these reactions from you and your body? Yeah, seems like you’re innocent. Gliding your hand between his legs, you drag your nails over the bulge before spreading your fingers apart, cupping the whole of it in your palm.

Frank grunts and the previously present smirk makes its way back onto your face, you don’t even try to act innocent anymore.

Listening to his now heavier breathing, despite his not so thrilled demeanor, his heart picks up the pace slightly, the blood rushing down between his legs.

A faint twitch under the jean fabric corresponding with his fingers digging deeper into your thigh and you know he's focused now. He's listening.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

You push the weight of your body against his groin, and his hand finds its way up to your hair. Fingers tangle into your hair before he tugs on it firmly. Your head tilts up, and the Ghost Face mask finally comes off once you cannot delay the inevitable any longer.

He leans in closer, his warm breath brushes over your lips, and you fight back the cocky smirk, not entirely sure which one of you wanted to feel the other more at this moment.

His stern expression only strengthens once you reach your hand behind him. Your fingers brush over his ass and you watch how his jaw tightens, his eyes closing.

“Oh, there he is.”

You tease, and he almost snaps this time, inhaling deeply through his nose in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“You try that shit one more time-”

He starts. Leaning closer to your ear, his lips brushing over your neck.

“And we're gonna have a big problem, kid.”

“Oh.”

You whisper, grinding into his thigh slowly.

“Oh, are we? We gonna have a problem, Mister Ghost Face?”

Your lips almost brush over his now. Frank opens his mouth to talk back, ready to have you bent over and waiting for him, ready to make both of you feel good or, most importantly, ready to have you apologize for the whole god-damn mask thing.

You breathe out a quiet laugh at the frustrated expression on his face once the sound of your phone successfully distracts you from his attempts to intimidate you.

With his hand still under your dress, the other in your hair, his leg between yours and his body leaning down over you, you answer the phone. Speaking as if it was the most casual situation possible.

“Yeah? Oh, yeah, we're on our way, we'll be there in a bit. Yeah.”

Frank watches, flabbergasted, as you make up a little story about why the two haven't joined the rest yet. You smack his shoulder a couple of times, pushing away from him and taking a few steps into the direction of the front door.

“What?”

You ask once the phone call is over.

“You're the one who said it's not happening.”

***

You arrive at the party a good while after it began. The house feels pretty crowded, the music is way louder than necessary, and you're pretty certain you're able to pick up the smell of both alcohol and cigarettes from the other side of the street. It honestly feels like one of those weekend college parties that used to always leave you with a two day long hangover a couple of years back. You shiver from a gust of the cold night wind and look over at your boyfriend while pulling the jacket close around your body. Frank looks unimpressed with that really significant frown on his face, not looking forward to spending the rest of the night in a small, crowded place with a bunch of people he didn't want to have to deal with.

“Oh, you’ll be fineee.”

Your oh so encouraging words earn you a stern look from him before he shakes his head with a deep sigh.

“Just go.”

You laugh and with his hand resting against your lower back, he pushes you towards the door, slipping on the movie accurate mask with a look of disapproval as you climb up the steps together.

“I’m throwing this thing out tomorrow.”

The muffled sound of his voice humors you, but you bite your tongue.

“Whatever you say, Frankie.”

***

This wasn’t Frank's idea, of course it wasn’t. He agreed to go to the party knowing how much you’d enjoy yourself but that was the only reason. The costumes weren’t even in the picture when you first asked him to join you, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to run around to different stores frantically trying to assemble a Halloween outfit. The mask was the first thing he saw after stepping into that corner store earlier in the day. He didn’t pay it much thought earlier, but now? After you made it blatantly obvious how much you enjoyed the whole thing, well… he struggled to get through one conversation without his thoughts slipping back to what happened before you two left your place.

You weren’t any better. Even when you split to catch up with different groups of friends after you stepped into the house, you found yourself constantly scanning the room in search of either his face, the mask, or his back. Catching his glance from across the room, you smile, raising the bottle of beer in your hand up. He does the same, but the gentle smile on his lips wears off the second you gesture for him to pull the mask back down. Frank rolls his eyes, shaking his head, before continuing his conversation with some guy you managed to interrupt.

You could try to focus on other things, on the drinks, the music, the stories shared between your friends. You could…but you can’t. There’s no use in trying when your eyes keep searching for Frank every other moment and your mind keeps slipping into places you’d rather not discuss in a room full of people.

With that in mind, you make it your mission to tease Frank through the evening and really see how hard you can make this get to him.

It starts slow: some gentle touches as you pass him by here and there, pushing your fingers through the hair on the back of his head as you two try to hold a conversation with another person, sitting in his lap when some of the people move to sit outside, and most importantly encouraging him to keep the mask on. It’s a costume party, after all.

He catches on when you two are in the kitchen and you obnoxiously brush your ass against his cock while squeezing past him to grab another beer from the fridge.

He grunts, his fingers quickly wrapping around your arm, and he glares into your eyes, silently warning you, possibly hoping it would somehow get you to behave. It doesn’t. You shoot him a quick smirk, waving at one of your friends wearing an angel costume when she walks into the kitchen.

“We’re doing a group photo in the living room!”

She announces excitedly, and you grin, immediately matching her energy.

“Are we showing our costumes off?”

Frank's fingers loosen the grip around you, and you step away from him without hesitation, taking your friend's hand while she answers your question.

“Yeah! We're trying to get everyone in!”

“Oh, fun!”

Walking by her side, you step out of the kitchen, turning back for just a moment.

“You heard that, Frankie? Costumes!!”

***

Back in the living room, you all gather together to attempt the impossible task of fitting every single person at the party into one photo together. Frank joins everyone a bit after you, walking in your direction as you all begin to take your somewhat assigned places.

“Hi.”

You start innocently, standing on your toes, to press a quick kiss to the side of his face. Frank nods in response, cautious of your tricks. Standing behind you to make you more visible in the photo, he wraps his arm around your chest, and you quickly grab onto his forearm. Glancing back over your shoulder, you quickly point out the obvious.

“You gotta put the mask on.”

“Mind your business, yeah?”

He murmurs, and you breathe out a quiet laugh, not looking away even for a second while he pulls the dark fabric and white mask over his face. You take a deep breath in, and the corner of your lips pull up in a satisfied smirk.

“Frankie-“

You start, the gentle heat between your legs returning since he put the mask on for the first time, now more prominent as he stares down at you once again.

“Leave it.”

He orders in a harsh whisper and with his hand on the back of your neck, he makes you face the camera. Your body takes over your brain and when everyone poses for the photo and his hand slides to your lower back, you push your ass out and press it against his bulge. His grunt, muffled by the mask and the constant noise of the party, slips from under the mask and his hands find your hips faster than you realize it was happening. His fingers dig into your thighs, so hard you know it'll leave bruises. He holds you still, knowing god-damn well if he lets go you'll repeat exactly what you just did.

There's a flash of the phone, and once the photo is taken he lets go of your body immediately. You make up your mind, deciding to risk it. Pushing past a few groups of people that begin to form around the living room, you excuse yourself, glancing back at Frank to make sure he's watching before you disappear behind the corner. You make your way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't lock it. You know he won't let that whole thing slip. No more than five minutes pass before he decides to join you.

“Took you long enough.”

You point out and push yourself off the edge of the bathtub, standing up before taking a couple steps in his direction. Frank shuts the door closed and turns back to face you.

“Oh, you wanted me to just walk after you, huh? Make it real obvious?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest almost rubbing against yours when he looks down.

“No one would give a shit, Frank, everyone's drunk. We could fuck with the door wide open and they wouldn't notice.”

“Stop.”

His voice harsh with the warning.

“Why?”

You push without hesitation or any intention of stopping.

“That get you too much, huh? Bet you'd like that, Frankie, hmm?”

Frank's body tenses up at your attempt to tease him. He stands up straighter, taller, and his shoulders stiffen, his chest rising when he breathes heavily under the mask. His hand balls up into a tight fist as he pushes back the frustration, trying not to hand you exactly what you want from him out on a plate.

“You just don't ever shut up, do you?”

You breathe out a quiet laugh, shaking your head slowly before you stand up on your tiptoes. Staying at eye level with the mask now, you squint, trying to see through the sheer fabric in the eyeholes.

“Oh I do. I can shut up but you don't like that, do you?”

You whisper. The muscles in his neck tensing when his jaw tightens and he shakes his head slowly.

“Yeah, okay, how ‘bout you try for once. Might do you some good.”

“Yeah?”

You whisper again, your hand now rubbing over the center of his chest, feeling the heat under his shirt.

“Make me.”

The words slip past the big smirk on your face and you decide now is the time. Sliding your hand down his body, you brush over the bulge in his jeans. Not giving him time to react, you grip his cock tightly through the thick fabric. With that, you watch whatever was left of Frank's composure crumble away.

There's a moment of silence where his fingers wrap around your wrist. His grip is tight and he holds it in place. You glance down, watching his hand for a moment, before squeezing him once again.

“F-”

He grunts, yanking your hand away with so much force you couldn't possibly even try to fight it back.

“That's it.”

Immediately, you feel his body pushing into yours once he shoves you back against the bathroom counter. Your lips part but you keep the moan back, wrapping your arms around his neck and biting into his exposed shoulder once you feel the porcelain digging into your lower body.

Breathing heavier under the plastic mask, he reaches down to the high slit on the side of your dress. His fingers push into your skin and drag up your thigh. Your breath rushes and your chest rises and falls faster now, the only indication, besides the elaborate banter and the teasing, of how much you've been thinking of this since getting to the party.

You hum loudly once his fingers brush over the hem of your underwear. Your hips push forward slightly in need of his touch once he tugs on the fabric to pull it down. You reach towards him, hands working the buckle of his belt open once the lace of your panties brushes down your calf. Frank reaches up, hand gripping the mask to finally pull it off, but you grab his wrist, stooping him once again.

There's a moment of silence when you both wait for the other to talk, the heat of your bodies radiating through the small bathroom. The pure lust for one another allows this to last only a few seconds.

“Keep it on.”

You request, knowing deep down that you can push him enough to actually have him fuck you with it on.

“Jesus fucking-”

Frank scoffs, pulling the mask off and looking away from you. He shakes his head, disapproving of whatever the hell you've been trying to get him involved in since the night started. He turns back to face you, his eyebrows pulled together, face in a frustrated frown.

“Seriously, this shit again?”

You roll your eyes with a frustrated sigh, hand on his chest as you push against his body, creating some distance between both of you.

“Could you just do one fucking thing without bitching about it so much? Like, is that too hard or?”

You push one more time, both the tone of your voice and the choice of words a lot harsher than before. You keep your gaze on his eyes, confidently staring him down after your annoyed statement, not letting go of this whole thing, not now, not with knowing how close you were.

Frank stands tall in front of you, jaw tight, teeth grinding against each other, and his chest pushes out with the breath he's been holding in his lungs. His eye twitches slightly before he looks off to the side. The bridge of his nose scrunches up when he inhales quickly, nodding once he finally turns back to face you again.

“Alright.”

He slowly pulls the mask back on.

“Your fucking call, sweetheart.”

Before there's time to react, he grabs your arm and shoves you against the sink, turning your body around in one swift motion, bending you over the counter and wrapping his fingers around your upper thigh.

“Your fucking call.”

His words travel down your body and between your legs, the excitement of getting what you wanted, followed by the thrill of the entire situation. The warmth between your legs grows once Frank pulls your ass back, kicking your legs open with his foot. You glance up, focusing on his reflection in the mirror in front of you.

The man towers over you, his shoulders broad and heavy, his chest in the dark tank top, his arm flexing when he holds your lower back down against the wood. The mask, fuck, the mask exposing the tense muscles in his neck, the whole sight taking over your senses, your mind and body.

His heavy hand rubs over your back, up and down a couple of times, before he pushes his palm under the fabric of your dress. Bunching it up, he pulls it over your ass and you can't help but push it out some more in search of his touch.

There's a loud scoff, and you see him shaking his head in the mirror.

“You know, you talk a lot of shit for how wet you are right now, sweetheart.”

He mocks you, pulling the black fabric up before pushing his fingers between your legs.

You whine out loud, closing your legs at the sudden touch but pull them apart again almost instantly.

“Yeah, s’ what I thought. You got a big mouth for-”

“Oh, shut up.”

You cut into his words and feel his fingers on the back of your neck. The grip tightens and he pulls you up, back into an upright position, your body now pressed against his chest. The reflection in the mirror makes your mouth part, but you bite into your lower lip, fighting back another moan. His figure looms over you, the mask ways up above your shoulder, his hand moving to the front of your neck. You feel yourself react to the sight in front of you, to the feeling of his fingers wrapping tighter around your neck, the warmth of his body so close behind you.

“What, you think I'm gonna say make me? Hmm?"

Pushing you back down on the counter, Frank steps closer to your body, his clearly hard cock pressing against your ass.

“Nah, that's your part. I don't do that shit.”

Taking your chance, you perk your ass up some, brushing over the warm spot between his legs. Frank grunts, closing his eyes for a moment before reaching down, pushing his pants open and then down slightly, pulling himself out of the black boxers.

Unable to win with your body this time, you slip up, letting out a moan once his cock springs out from under the dark fabric, stretched out over the large bulge up until this point.

There's a low chuckle from under the Ghost Face mask.

“That shit really gets you that bad?”

One of Frank's hands digs into your thigh, holding you close, the other wrapped tightly around his length.

You nod, making sure he catches the still confident expression on your face in the bathroom mirror.

“Oh, you've got no idea.”

You tease again and Frank moves his hand up to your shoulder blades. Pushing your body down against the counter, he clears his throat.

“Think I got some.”

He lines himself up, getting a few pumps in over his length before spreading you open with his free hand. He pushes inside slower than you'd have liked, pausing after the tip the second he feels how truly ready you are.

“You get off on these things, huh?”

He continues the questing, beginning to thrust into you, and you feel your body stretching to fit him in with every push. Your lips part as your mouth falls open before you bite into your lip, trying to muffle the sounds you're sure would otherwise fill the space of the small bathroom. You try to keep your head up, focusing on Frank's reflection. His body takes up most of your view. You focus on the mask, the low grunts coming from behind it, the feeling of his cock dragging inside of you, out of you and then pushing right back inside, and the feeling of him stretching you out that never goes away entirely.

“You want it fucking scary? Hmm? That'll do it for you?”

He keeps up the teasing, quick to point out every single reaction your body presents him with, and you finally decide to bite back.

You reach behind your back, hand on the front of his hip, tapping your palm against his body to get his attention. Pausing his movements for a moment, Frank watches your face in the mirror, giving you space to talk.

“Yeah, you got me.”

You grunt, cursing under your breath, once he decides to move his palm between your legs.

“You got me but-”

“Gotta speak up, sweetheart.”

He thinks he has you now.

“The mask isn't scary, It's just hot. You should try harder to reeeally get me."

The feeling of his fingers rubbing over your clit disappears immediately after you finish the sentence. He starts up again from behind, and you feel yourself clench around his cock once he moves inside you. You hum loudly, and Frank wraps his big hands around the sides of your body. Panting loudly with his cock still inside you, he tries to focus on your words, knowing, and being almost completely sure, of what you were asking for.

“You know what would help?”

You purr quietly, watching him in the mirror. Your confidence flows back to you once you notice him slightly stunted. The mask moves in the reflection, his eyes focus on your face from underneath the fabric, and you know he's now thinking about it too.

“Yeeeaah, I know you have it, Frankie.”

His grip on you tightens with your words.

“You don't leave the house without it. ‘Just in case’? Your words.”

It takes a moment, but after that moment he reaches behind his body without a word. There's hesitation and he pauses. The bathroom falls quiet and the only sound between your panting is the muffled noise of the party outside the bathroom door.

Slowly, Frank pulls out his black, military grade knife you've seen on him so many times before. The one he always insists on carrying with him, the one you knew he didn't leave at the house tonight.

“Ohhh that's it, Frankie, look at that.”

You whisper in a condescending tone, bumping your odds of actually getting hurt up just a bit higher. He doesn't say a word, but the knuckles of his hand turning white with the strength of the grip speak volumes.

“This what you fucking want?”

He asks, pushing his hand into your hair before tugging to pull your head up. He pushes the blade harder against your skin. The sting of the sharp edge gliding over the inside of your thigh makes you push your hips back again. Once you make sure his eyes focus on your reflection, you smirk, bigger than before, and bite into your lower lip with a quiet whine. With a grunt, Frank holds you down in place, not allowing you to move further back on him,

“You're fucking sick, you know that?”

He points out, and you feel the win in your bones. Making yourself clench around him, you murmur quietly in the most innocent voice.

“Oh yeah, but you like it, Frankie.”

He breaks. His cock twitches inside you and he shoves your chest into the bathroom counter. Thrusting inside you, he follows his every move with a grunt. You grip onto the edge of the sink, now letting the sweet sounds of pleasure slip past your lips with no restrictions. Your breath hitches, the pounding in your head rushes once Frank leans over your body. With his chest pressed against your back, he presses the knife back into the inside of your thigh. You instinctively spread your legs open a bit more as he mumbles something about the knife again. The edge of the blade nicks your skin with the next thrust and you groan at the feeling. Rolling your eyes back, you let your head fall forward, fully aware of the fact Frank just felt how good that felt for you.

“God d-“

He starts in his raspy voice. His big hand holds your lower back in place once he pulls back, the drag of his cock slipping out of your body makes you curl your toes.

Lifting your head back up, you watch him in the mirror, seeing him kneel behind you quickly. You glance back at him confused, not sure of what to expect next.

You gasp, louder than you’ve liked it, but you can’t help it, it’s not your fault. You’d be lying if you said you were expecting him to do his. Kneeling on one knee, Frank pulls you closer by your thighs before pulling the mask up and he presses his tongue flat against the cut. It stings and you jump forward but he pulls you back to him before dropping his right hand to his cock, the knife still in his other hand while he strokes over his length a couple of times.

“So your cock’s fucking throbbing and I’m the sick one?”

You throw the question into the air and it’s like a slap across his face. He pauses, immediately standing up to shove you back down against the wood.

“You gonna act like you don’t like it?”

He spits out, not even expecting an answer, as he lines himself up with your entrance again. Adjusting his grip for a moment, he pulls you back on him instead of thrusting forward, and you struggle to regain balance for a moment as he pushes deeper and deeper inside you.

Out of your control at this point, your thighs press against each other, squeezing him tighter than before. He bends in half, grunting what seems like louder than the actual music playing outside the bathroom. You part your lips ready to deliver another smart ass comment but the force of his hips pushing against your ass, his dick hitting that stop deep inside right under your stomach? It knocks the wind out of you and turns your words into one loud moan.

“Fuck.”

You grunt, feeling your body dancing on the edge now. You prop yourself up, watching his body flex in the mirror as he fills you up, what feels like better than anyone has before.

You move on top of the counter, move with his body when he slips his hands between your bodies to finally push you over the edge. Making him drop the knife, you grab onto that hand and bring it up to cover your mouth with his big palm, muffling the sounds of your pleasured body as he works it even deeper inside you.

“Just needed it to hurt a bit, huh?”

Frank teases, pointing out how your body gives away how close you are now, how you’re unable to keep up the bratty demeanor anymore.

“The knife got you this close?”

You whine quietly through his fingers when he holds your back against his chest. His voice turns slightly softer when he fully takes in the state of you.

With your body shaking, your chest moving faster than he’s ever seen it before, your eyes watering and your hands clinging onto his arm, you let him make the call.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Hmm?”

You grunt, frustrated with the slightly condescending tone, but still nodding your head quickly.

“Attagirl, you calmed down a bit?”

And another nod, his fingers roughing over your clit, his cock twitching deep inside you.

“Yeah, that’s it, c’mon. C’mon you got it.”

He mumbles quietly, helping you lean over the counter one last time. His hands rest on your sides and as he pushes inside you again, you whine. Then again you cry out, pushing your legs together. He only manages half a thrust after pushing his fingers hard against your clit, rubbing over the most sensitive spot. You feel your body tensing up with both pain and pleasure as you reach back to hold onto his arm.

“Attagirl, you got it, that’s it”

Your nails dig into his skin while he works over you, letting your body squeeze around his cock once it finally hits you. The overwhelming pleasure floods your body, and you feel the heat from the top of your head down to the very tips of your toes. Winning out his name, you make it pretty obvious he managed it once again. With your muscles tense around him, Frank grunts loudly, pushing into you one more time before he follows with his own climax.

“Fuuuuuuuck-“

He groans, his cock aching for release once he finally reaches it. He gives a few final thrusts when he fills you up before taking a step back to pull his cock out.

Taking a deep breath in, he reaches up, pulling the mask off of his face while watching you attempt to collect yourself.

You try to catch your breath, pushing yourself up before you feel Frank's hand on your arm. He helps you up, turning you around to have you face him now and you notice his loud breathing slowly beginning to mirror your own.

You lean forward and so does he, both of you taking a moment to calm down. Your forehead rests against his as you close your eyes and attempt to steady your breathing.

“Shit.”

You glance down quickly, feeling his cum drip down the side of your leg. Frank's eyes follow, the mask tilts down when he watches the drop slide down over your skin. His hands move to your waist, and he helps you up onto the counter with a grunt. You sit right at the edge, getting comfortable and spreading your legs apart while he slowly gets on his knees right in front of you. You hold up the mask, resting it on top of his head, focusing on his face. You smile at the red hues in his skin.

“Oh, Frankie, I almost forgot how pretty you look.”

You tease and he follows up with a scoff.

“Yeah okay, c'mere.”

He pulls you forward, slightly closer to him, before helping you pull the dress up one more time. His warm breath fans your skin for a moment before he licks over his lips. They press against your skin now, right above the knee. Another kiss follows but higher up your leg and then once more. You push your legs apart more to make it easier for him.

“Attagirl.”

He mumbles against your skin, his hand rubbing over your calf softly while he works his lips over your skin for another moment.

“See? You can be nice sometimes.”

He whispers, and you hum impatiently, pushing your fingers through his exposed hair before tugging at them slightly. He scoffs, and you feel the quick breath on your center.

The second his tongue brushes over your folds, you shut your eyes completely. Still sensitive from the previous orgasm, you let your body lead this time and your head falls back, resting against the mirror while Frank takes care of you.

You moan out his name, not even attempting to fight it back, and he picks up the pace. The warm and wet sensation quickly works you up more than you're actually willing to admit. Relaxing into the feeling, you push your legs open further and Frank chuckles against your body. Your core rumbles with the sound and your thighs quickly press together, closing around his head. He groans, tongue slipping inside you while the pressure around his face tightens. Tilting his head up, he nudges the tip of his nose against your clit and your hips buck forward, a motion accompanied by another loud moan of his name.

You cover your mouth, but only for a second, failing to keep the sounds in once he wraps his lips around your most sensitive spot. Sucking your clit into his mouth, Frank successfully pushes you into an impatient state where you know if he won't get you to finish soon, you'll do it without his help. Your back arches and you mumble his name in an attempt to get his attention.

“Frank.”

You start and your body twitches. Feeling another long stroke of his tongue.

“Mhhh.”

He hums deep into you. Reaching for your legs, he throws them both over his shoulders and digs his fingers into your ass, quickly tugging you closer to him.

“Frank-”

Your breath hitches and you gasp quietly, whining his name out one more time. You feel yourself getting closer, the sounds of the party seem so distant now you almost forget where you are. Almost, because as you feel yourself getting close to your second climax, when his touch becomes so much more intense, when your legs tremble with the feeling, right at that very moment you realize. You never locked the door.

Hearing the sound of the doorknob turning, you press your foot against Frank's shoulder in a desperate attempt to push him away, but before you can do it, with his head still between your legs, Frank leans to the side quickly. With a loud grunt, he shoves the door closed with his shoulder without pulling away from you. He reaches up blindly, feeling the door for the lock, before you reach your hand over his head and finish for him.

He hums into your body, satisfied, and you feel yourself relaxing back into the feeling.

“Shit, Frankie...”

You whisper, pushing your hips forward against his face slightly. There’s a low, raspy chuckle that leaves his chest and you close your eyes, titling your head back to rest it against the mirror while he works on the second round.

You come shortly after and with your body so severely overstimulated, the soft, warm sensation of his tongue works better than he’d expect. He makes sure to take a mental note of it as he looks up from between your legs, watching when the second wave finally pushes you over the edge.

You rest, leaning against the mirror as he stands up in front of you, hand rubbing over your legs gently, his eyes fixed on yours.

“You okay?”

He asks. His soft, quiet question contrasts with whatever the hell the two of you just did in the small space of the bathroom. You lift your hand up, gesturing for him to stop talking and he chuckles quietly.

“Fair.”

He mumbles before turning his attention to his reflection. You watch as he cleans himself up a bit, washing the wet shine off his face and drying himself with the hem of his shirt.

Reaching over to the other side of the counter, he leans down, grabbing his knife off the floor and putting it away before handing the plastic mask over to you.

“Imagine if I didn't go out and pick this shit up.”

You snort, exhausted, enjoying how he literally managed to fuck the frustration out of himself.

“I don’t wanna think about that.”

You whisper, and he scoffs loudly, looking down and shaking his head before glancing back up at you.

“Yeah I bet.”

He helps you collect yourself, staying close by when you clean yourself up and straighten the fabric of your dress before handing you the previously abandoned underwear as you both get ready to leave the bathroom.

He offers you his hand, helping you off of the counter, and you lean on him while stepping down from it.

“Can you walk?”

He asks, and you look up at him, unimpressed with the not-so-subtle tease.

“Shut up.”

You mumble, hoping and praying your legs wouldn't just give out on you and give him something else to tease you about.

“Oh yeah, sorry.”

He grabs the mask and pulls it back on his face, then turns to you.

“Can you walk?”

He repeats the question, clearly enjoying this more than he should.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. I saw how hard you got.”

“Okay, that’s it. Out.”

He gestures to the door, pulling it open to let you out of the room. You hold onto his hand, letting him lead. You ditch your shoes and he carries them for you as you both make your way towards the front door, glancing back in the direction of the party before turning back to face each other again.

“You wanna get the hell out of here?”

“Yeah.”

You nod.

“We gotta get all the use out of that mask before you toss it tomorrow.”

You point out, pulling the door open, and hear his laugh over your shoulder.

“You don’t think maybe you’ve had enough now?”

His voice cuts through the night, and you turn around with a playful smirk, feeling the cold, crispy autumn air fill your lungs.

“No, no, I don’t think so. Besides...”

You slowly pull the mask onto your face staring him down.

“I don’t think you’ve had enough either.”

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank catsle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank catsle x you #marvel punisher #frank catsle smut #jon bernthal #jon bernthal character #frank catsle fan fiction #jon bernthal fanfiction

488 notes · View notes

justmediocrewriting · 4 months

Text

“CREEP ALERT,” {v.s}

Summary: a fun night out turns into a storm of discomfort when a man decides he wants to try his luck with you — too bad he underestimated the the depth of protectiveness that the crew’s chef held for you.

Genre: fluff, minor spice

Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

Requested: ❌ (suggested, but requests are open!)

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings/tags: mutual attraction, bar scene, unwanted advances, unwanted groping, pushy creep, no means no fellas, protective!sanji, mutual attraction, pre-relationship, flirting, brief descriptions of violence, Sanji gives peak feminist energy lmao

A/n: big ole thank you for the suggestion! Definitely had fun with this one ;)

This fun night out had quickly become a disaster — a disaster forged by the hands of a greasy old creep who clearly hadn’t learned how to keep his hands to himself, and felt way too conceited in his privilege to put them all over whoever he wanted to.

You weaved between the various bodies packed along the bar, eyes frantically searching for a glimpse of a familiar face — you could hear the sounds of footsteps tracing your exact path behind you, the beating rhythm seeming to hypnotize your heart into beating in time with them. The more you scanned the crowd, the more absent your friends seemed to become, and in mere seconds you began to breathe heavily, heart constricting and lunging into your throat in panic; there was no way this man would give up, not now, and if he caught up to you, you were more than likely dead meat — but then you caught it; a fleeting glimpse of blond hair.

It whipped straight past you as you passed your ship’s resident chef, who was leaning his elbows against the bar, no doubt chatting it up with a pretty bartender, and you quickly stumbled to a stop.

A voice called out; it was the same gravelly voice that had slithered uncomfortably into your ear just minutes prior, when the man had gripped a handful of your plush ass, and your skin prickled with discomfort and growing panic. Your mind was completely frazzled, just a pit of raw fear and desperation, and in an effort to hide from the approaching man you dove forward with flinging arms, effectively squishing yourself between Sanji and another man beside him at the bar. The man stumbled back a few paces with a grunt, and you sent him an apologetic look over your shoulder before wrapping your hands around Sanji’s bicep.

The movement unsettled Sanji’s position and he nearly fell forward, but was quick to recover and whip his head towards the source of the upset — when his eyes landed on yours the reflection of anger melted into surprise and pleasant recognition. You could see the question forming on his lips, and Sanji had gotten no further than “hey, what’s—” before you were squeezing your fingers tightly around the muscle of his arm and hissing,

“Creep alert.”

Sanji’s eyes flashed with confusion for the briefest of seconds until your words fully registered, and then they were hardened into steel.

“Who?” Sanji asked quietly, pulling his arms fully away from the bar and standing to his full height, turning his body towards you. You let your fingers fall from his bicep. His eyes scanned the crowd from above your head, and you chanced a glance back and around the form of the man you’d bumped into, now leaning against the bar with a disgruntled look on his face. In seconds you caught sight of your pursuer, rudely shouldering people out of his way as his beady eyes scanned the length of the bar.

“That one,” you whispered, nodding your head in the man’s direction. “He’s the one that grabbed me. He’s looking for me now.”

“Grabbed?” Sanji questioned lowly, voice tense and pushed through gritted teeth. You turned back to Sanji and nodded, heart fluttering at the protective lines etched into his face. Swallowing thickly, you added, nervously,

“Yeah. I probably should have listened to Nami when she said my ass looked too good in this skirt.”

Sanji’s eyes flicked back to yours, ocean blues full of anger and disbelief.

“It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing or how good you look in it. It’s not an invitation for someone to put their paws all over you.”

Your skin heated at the depth of Sanji’s declaration, muttered with such conviction and sincerity that, not for the first time, you found yourself swooning over his avid respect for the female gender — a respect that was clearly not mirrored by the greater mass of men.

“Hey, girl.”

Your skin tingled unpleasantly at the sound of that gravelly drawl, now echoing from just feet away from you, and you subconsciously took a slight stumble forward, pressing yourself closer to Sanji in search of security. Sanji was quick to aid your search, bringing a hand up to wrap his fingers around your bicep and pull you closer to him.

“Can we help you, sir?” Sanji asked, his voice sugary-sweet and respectful, despite the clear distaste and anger in his eyes. The greasy man didn’t give Sanji much consideration other than a glared once over before focusing on you again.

“I believe we never finished our conversation, sweetheart.” The man flashed you a devious smile, one that had you cowering back in repulsion. Sanji’s grip on your bicep tightened, not enough to hurt, but just enough to assure you that he was there — and this guy wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on you. The protectiveness had you feeling light headed, had your heart beating erratically, the same way it always did when you and Sanji toed that blurry line between friendship and something more.

“You are finished with your conversation. She’s not interested.” Sanji seethed, faux kindness completely dropped now.

“Says who?” The man was slurring his words, the scent of alcohol heavy on his breath, and now the man tore his eyes away from you, turning his body to line it up with Sanji’s. You noticed with far too much satisfaction that Sanji had a fair few inches on the man in height, and the man must have noticed it too, for he took a small step backwards — but the glare remained fixed on his face, his shoulders still squared as if he were posturing in front of a potential threat.

“Says her boyfriend.” Sanji spat, and your heart stilled for a few seconds before starting back up again, the pattern completely skewed. “And I don’t appreciate the way you disrespected her.”

The man’s lips curled into a snarl, and you suddenly had a very bad feeling in your gut — that feeling was proven to be one hundred percent warranted when the man, with movements that seemed far too calculated and quick for his state of obvious inebriation, shot a hand forward and once again grabbed an entire handful of your ass, squeezing it a few times, voice loud and raucous when he said,

“If you don’t want your bitch being disrespected, maybe you shouldn’t let her dress this way!”

You had no time to feel any semblance of repulsion or embarrassment from what the man had just done, as in the next instant all you could feel was pure panic as Sanji lunged forward and grappled the man. The drunkard struggled as Sanji pulled him by the shirt collar towards the bar, but he was no match for someone like Sanji, especially in his state of clumsiness. A few shouts and yelps of startlement erupted from the patrons surrounding the event unfolding, a sickening crack harmonizing within their voices when Sanji smacked the man’s face into the bar, holding an arm behind his back in a vice grip.

“You don’t ever do that to a woman, especially not in front of me.” Sanji seethed, eyes burning with anger and something else that you couldn’t identify, something that had your voice clogging in your throat. You knew you should do something to break this up, but your body wouldn’t move, and your words wouldn’t come out. Maybe the guy deserved to be beaten to a pulp, but how would that affect Sanji should he do it?

“Sanji.” You breathed out finally, so quiet that you were positive the man wouldn’t be able to hear it over the clamor of the bar, but somehow he had, and his eyes whipped to yours. Your panic must have been reflected within, for Sanji’s eyes softened and he released his grip on the man’s arm, but not without a final shove.

Sanji crossed the few feet of space between you two and pulled you to his chest, lips connecting with the top of your head in a sweet kiss. “I’m sorry you had to see that, darling.”

Sanji’s voice was no more than an utterance, quiet and tense, and his arms around you circled tightly, pressing you against him as if he were afraid you’d disappear. Your throat was too swollen to speak, a ball of emotion stuck within, and all you could do was nod into his embrace and pray that it could convey the words you couldn’t voice.

“Let’s get out of here.” Sanji proposed, and you once again nodded mutely in agreement, and with a final squeeze Sanji released you from his embrace, but kept physical contact with you in the form of a light grip on your wrist as he led you through the stunned crowd and out of the bar.

The night air was chilly against your exposed skin, and you couldn’t stifle the shiver that wracked your shoulders. Your action didn’t go unnoticed by Sanji, who was quick to shed his suit jacket and offer it to you. You took it with a small smile and slid it over your shoulders, engulfed immediately in warmth and the cedar-y scent of Sanji; despite the uncomfortable and rather scary events that had unfolded just seconds prior, you felt your body relax into a state of security and comfort.

Sanji dug a hand in his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes and plucked one out, placing it between his lips and lighting it with noticeably shaky hands. Worry gripped your heart and you stepped closer to Sanji, ignoring the way the scent of smoke curled in your nose unpleasantly.

“Sanji, are you okay?” You asked tentatively, and the man chuckled around the cigarette between his teeth. He inhaled and exhaled a large amount of smoke, his voice a bit scratchy from the action when he responded,

“I should be asking you that.”

You laughed along with him; you could see Sanji’s point. You’d just been groped not once, but twice, by some greasy man in a bar, then had been completely insulted and degraded in front of a slew of people by the very same creep. In comparison, what had happened to Sanji was minor — but this shaking was something you’d never seen from the chef, who always kept his emotions mostly in check, especially around women, and it was worrying you.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me.” Sanji finally said after a couple more inhales, and you blinked at him in confusion.

“Why would I be scared of you, Sanji?” You asked, flabbergasted. Sanji sent you a brief look from behind the shadow of his fringe, and the act of bashfulness was so out of place for the man that your heart swelled from the cuteness of it.

“I don’t like to lose my cool in front of women. Such delicate creatures should never bear witness to the stupidity and aggression of brutes.”

You rolled your eyes, torn between feeling insulted and pedestaled. Sanji was always saying things like this, practically placing women in the same category as gods, and it did things to you, things you never thought such a mindset would do to you — perhaps it’s because it was Sanji’s mindset, and you knew that every expression of reverence towards women was one hundred percent genuine from him.

“It wasn’t scary to me. Actually, it was kinda hot.” You teased, falling back into place of toeing that delicate line, which Sanji noticed immediately, and was quick to follow suit.

“Ah, yes, because violence is very stimulating to the female eye, aye?”

You bumped your shoulder into his. “Not necessarily; but possessiveness is. And that was a pretty blatant display of it, if you ask me.”

At that Sanji turned to face you, a smirk playing on his lips; you knew that smirk, and you knew that it meant that whatever was about to fall from his lips would strike a fire within you.

“Well, I can’t help it if I’ve already claimed you as mine in my heart, can I?”

Your heart practically leapt into your throat and your nervous laugh came out so choked that you were sure it physically had done that. Sure enough, that fire was roaring inside you, and it made you that much more eager to cross that line.

“Why just in your heart, dearest? Why not physically, as well?”

Sanji flicked his spent cigarette somewhere to the right, blowing the remainder of smoke from his mouth before placing his hands brazenly over your hips. You eyes were immediately drawn to that smoothly painted smirk on his lips, and Sanji noticed, the bastard, and he leaned in ever closer to whisper,

“Because you haven’t asked me to yet, dearest.”

#opla #opla sanji #one piece #opla x reader #one piece live action #opla sanji x reader

359 notes · View notes

satansapostle6 · 5 months

Text

Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Violence. Almost smut. Choking. Semi-public. Knee riding.

“The Angel From My Nightmare”

“10 Things I Hate About You”

“Alright, go have fun. Come get me if you need something,” Sara told her younger brother.

“Do you have to stay?” Connor complained as she and Lauren sat at a table.

“Sorry, kiddo. We gotta have fun too,” she teased. “Go. Have fun. We’ll be all the way over here, you won’t even know we’re here.”

That turned out to be completely wrong.

“It’s super crowded in here… Even Heather Hills and her friends are here tonight,” Lauren observed.

“Ew. She puts the ‘bully’ in bulimic,” Sara muttered.

“Yeah, even I’m not that far in denial,” Lauren agreed, turning as everyone noticed a loud feedback coming off of the DJ’s microphone.

The music stopped, and no one knew what was happening.

“Alright, enough of that,” Rodrick Heffley’s voice blasted over the speakers, replacing the music that had been playing.

Everyone at the roller rink stopped to see that he and the rest of the band had set up near the DJ booth, completely hijacking the music.

“Oh my God,” Lauren whispered, looking to Sara. “Did you know about this?”

“No,” Sara hissed, looking at Rodrick in horror.

“We are Löded Diper, and we’re here to blow your minds,” Bill joined in.

“Oh my fucking God,” Sara murmured, trying her best to blend into the crowd as she scooted as far down the bench as possible.

But she quickly found that anonymity definitely wouldn’t be in the cards for her tonight.

“I’m Rodrick. Rodrick Heffley,” a shaky voice breathed into the mic.

“Hurry up!” someone’s dad yelled, more irritated about not hearing music than the whole music hijacking situation.

“Alright, uh… I’m here to sing one song. It’s a very special song, that goes out to a very special girl. Sara? Sara Walter?” Rodrick desperately searched the crowd for her.

He eventually found her, staring right at her as everyone in the roomed stared, including Heather Hills and the other ‘popular’ girls. Sara’s eyes widened with rage as her little brother and his friends all stared in her direction.

“Sara,” Rodrick stared, his eyes full of fear. “I… I’m sorry. You’re the prettiest, smartest girl in the world.”

Sara’s face went pale as she slowly turned to Lauren with all eyes on her.

“What the fuck?” she mouthed silently.

It seemed no one had anything to offer.

“Sara, I know you’re probably mad at me, and you probably should be. You’re beautiful, and you’re kind, and I don’t deserve you,” he blurted out as everyone watched.

Heather and her friends were now whispering and pointing in disgust.

“Listen, Sara, I get it if you never wanna talk to me again… But I really, really like you,” Rodrick announced in front of the entire building.

“Get on with it already!” another impatient onlooker shouted.

“Right, yeah, here goes,” he continued, rambling as he signaled to the band to start playing. “This song is for you, Sara Walter.”

Bill waved to her excitedly, completely unable to read the room as he tried to make the situation less intense. She watched, completely frozen as the band started playing. It was a bit rocky in the first few seconds, but then, she immediately recognized the song after the first few chords.

Struck by the effort that went into coordinating the entire thing, Sara could hardly control her racing thoughts. She didn’t know whether to be angry at Rodrick for the spectacle, or charmed by the gesture, or creeped out by the entire thing.

“And I’d give up forever to touch you…” the sixteen year old boy sang shakily in front of the crowd, his vocals questionable at best.

“'Cause I know that you feel me somehow

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

And I don't want to go home right now,”

Some people in the room, namely Heather’s group, laughed and whispered as Rodrick took the stage. Eventually, the teasing throughout the room got to be brutal, but he still persisted, trying his best not to break.

“God, he’s an idiot, but I still feel kinda bad,” Sara murmured.

“Sara. I’m gonna be completely honest with you,” Lauren raised an eyebrow. “You need to go kiss that boy right now.”

“Seriously? I’m just gonna run back into his arms because he made a fool of himself for me?” she reasoned. “That’s his whole brand!”

“Sara,” Lauren reminded her, her approach stern but caring. “Would Jake Anderson ever have performed your favorite slow song for you in a room full of people, even if his singing was pretty dog shit?”

Sara sat in silence for a moment as everyone still looked over at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

“What about Tyler Hayden? Or Lenwood Heath?”

“Okay, I get your point,” Sara said softly.

“I haven’t seen anybody give this much of a fuck for you since you were with Nadine,” Lauren admitted. “And you know how much I liked you guys.”

“Yeah,” Sara thought, considering her options.

“I think he really means what he says. Even if he’s fucking stupid,” Lauren told her.

Sara just sighed, looking up at Rodrick on the platform as he sang for her, never taking his eyes off her even once. It was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am,”

He sang like his life depended on it, which it kind of did. As much as Sara hated to admit it, she saw a look of genuine regret in his eyes that day. All she could think about was how much she really did like Rodrick, all the way until the end of the song.

It ended and a complete silence washed over the room, as just about everyone just stood around waiting for a resolution. Even security had been waiting until the spectacle was over to intervene. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it was the first time that yielded any interesting results.

Of course, Heather and her friends wouldn’t stop whispering, but Rodrick refused to pay them any mind. He cleared his throat as the song ended, staring out at Sara with a sad, dopey look in his eyes as he prayed she’d forgive him.

“Fuck it,” Sara muttered to herself, walking out onto the rink.

She marched up to the platform looking both angry and confused. Rodrick didn’t know what to expect, and slowly stepped down in shock. He stood right in front of her, walking up to her as he waited for her to react to him in some way.

“I’m sorry,” he started to apologize, “I didn’t know how to make it up to you—”

“I don’t care,” she said finally, a resolve in her eyes.

“What does that mean?” Rodrick asked, ignoring the girls who were pointing and making fun.

“That means, fuck it, Rodrick Heffley, I’m really starting to like you too.”

Rodrick’s grunt of surprise was muffled into a spontaneous kiss as Sara jumped into his arms, which was met with a mostly positive reaction from their audience. He was hesitant at first, slowly warming up to her again as he scooped her up in his arms, kissing her lips like he’d never get the chance to again.

After a moment, they remembered where they were, and Rodrick awkwardly set her down on the ground with reluctance. He looked up and down nervously, not sure what to say now.

“Can we go?” Sara asked, uncomfortable as she looked around.

“Yes,” he nodded automatically, willing to comply to her every whim, “Yes. We can.”

After being kicked out of the roller rink, again, Rodrick and the rest of the band walked out to the parking lot, reviewing their performance that night.

“You know, I know we’re metal and all, but that was fucking beautiful,” Ben seemed to be teary-eyes.

Rodrick and Sara stepped outside for a moment, as she leaned against the wall in silence, trying to think. Knowing what might comfort her, Rodrick pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, opening it as he offered it to her. Nodding appreciatively at the gesture, Sara took one and held it in her mouth as he lit it for her.

“I’m sorry,” Rodrick blurted out finally, a pained but far away expression on his face, “I, uh… I didn’t know how else to show you I meant what I said. That I really, really like you.

“It’s okay,” Sara sighed, just hoping to move on from the issue, “I understand. Really. We all backtrack. I’m over it.”

“No, really. I don’t want you to think I made a scene just to distract from the way I acted,” he said slowly. “I really meant what I said—”

“Rodrick,” she said, eyes wide open, “It’s fine. It’s done. I’m over it.”

“No, I owe you an explanation,” he sighed, “I… I’ve just never had a real girlfriend before…”

“Dude, this isn’t exactly breaking news,” she looked at him with dead eyes.

“Okay, can you just not be a total fucking asshole for like one second?” Rodrick demanded with laughter.

“Okay, fine,” she threw her hands up in surrender, “I’m listening.”

The look on her face was less than convincing.

“You’re a bitch,” Rodrick laughed, no longer able to take himself seriously, “You’re a fucking bitch,” he pointed at her, his finger less than an inch from her face.

“Oh yeah?” she teased with a light chuckle, cigarette butt dropped to the ground and forgotten.

“Yeah.”

He stood in front of her, trying to remain serious as he leaned against the wall, his hand resting just above her head.

“You’re a fucking bitch,” he repeated playfully, trying to perfect his more serious demeanor.

“Am I a bitch, or are you just a little bitch?” Sara proposed, intentionally provoking him.

“No. You’re just a bitch,” he promised her.

Neither were sure exactly how it happened, but as he got in her face and challenged her, he attempted to jokingly pin her to the wall. At first, this entailed his arm resting on her chest, but then suddenly turned into something else entirely.

Rodrick didn’t intend it at all, but suddenly, the both of them found his hand slipped as he held her by the throat, still grinning.

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he told her, before coming to and realizing that he was actually choking her.

First, his eyes fluttered as he realized the mistake he’d made, but once he saw he’d reaction, he felt himself giving into it.

“Fuck,” he moaned out loud, his finger pads pressing on her pressure points harder.

She softly sighed in excitement, the contact with the pressure points heightening the experience even more. Rodrick looked at her with pleading eyes as he choked her, admiring her gratuitously.

He leaned in to kiss her, groaning into her mouth as he pressed her against the wall with his large hand wrapped around her neck. She reacted by pulling him in by the collar, making him feel something even more euphoric. She deepens the kiss, tongue slipping into his mouth as he slowly moved his leg up her body, not stopping until his knee trailed down to her center.

For just a moment, he stopped kissing Sara, huffing softly into the warm skin of her neck.

“Is it bad that I kinda wanna see you fuck my knee right now?” he wondered.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “And it’s hot.”

He chuckled happily as he sucked on her neck, roughly biting and sucking. He pushed his knee against her, practically fucking her with it against the wall behind the roller rink. She quietly groaned in frustration as she tried to align herself perfectly on his knee.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he gasped, eyes closed as he kissed all over her neck. “I hope you know you could ask me for anything. I’d do anything for you, or to you.”

“You’re so sexy,” Sara whined.

“I’m serious. If you wanted me to, I’d eat it from the back, and enjoy it,” he said completely deadpan. “All I wanna do is take you home and lay you down and make you come any way I know how.”

“We should probably stop this,” Sara thought intuitively, “Before this wall ends up pregnant.”

“I can’t control myself when I’m around you. And not cuz I think you’re hot,” Rodrick stated. “Honestly. I just see you and I wanna give you everything.”

“You already have,” she confessed, never having seen anyone so willing to risk things for her.

A/N: not sure if this is good, wrote it after doing a line

#rodrick heffley #rodrick rules #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x y/n #rodrick x y/n #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid #doawk rodrick #doawk #rodrick smut #rodrick heffley smut

174 notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 11 months

Note

Would I Like You (Say it Back) MC drag JK to go watch the Barbie movie with her?

Warnings for tiny angst, mostly fluff tho!

You're staring down at his phone while he can't help but grin brightly, almost a little shy as he watches you slowly lift your eyes to look at him- barefaced, surprised, and just oh-so adorable.

"Go get ready." He chuckles, taking his phone back from your hands where the confirmation email for the tickets to the movie theater is still open. He just knew without even asking that you'd probably love to see the movie- and he's never really had a true proper date with you before.

So it's perfect timing, really.

"Oh my God JUNGKOOK-" You whine, running towards the bedroom before you emerge back out, clumsily pecking his lips before you run off again, making him laugh. "-oh my God this is a date isn't i!" You ramble as he hears the closet door open in the bedroom. "Fuck my skirt is in the wash- okay yeah no this one works too- Jungkookie, can you help me close that zipper please?" You whine from the bedroom, and he walks in to do just that- carefully zipping up the pale pink top for you, making sure not to nick your skin on accident. There's something oddly domestic about this-

Especially considering he'll be undoing that zipper later tonight again, probably.

"Okay okay, lemme just-" you squeeze past him into the bathroom where you search in your makeup bag for something, when you seem to realize something. "Oh god I don't have enough time for makeup-"

"Just do your eyeliner, mascara and lipgloss." He shrugs, leaning against the side of the doorway into the bathroom where you stand at the sink.

"But-" you start to complain, but he just shakes his head with a smile.

"Or go barefaced." He shrugs again. "You're pretty either way." He offers.

It's a big insecurity of yours, actually. Your skin is perfectly fine without powder or concealer- but it still feels odd not to wear it.

'Put some more effort into your looks' you still hear your mother scold.

'Can you not talk so stupidly high pitched, it's giving me a headache' is your father's voice that still echoes in your mind.

You've never talked to Jungkook about your family life or your childhood- mainly because it wasn't a very good one. You had to grow up way too fast to help with the household, and you did anything you could to gain your parent's praise- though you never received it, in the end.

Maybe that's why you're like this now. Bubbly, loud, childish.

"Princess.." jungkook walks closer, holding your cheeks before he pecks your lips. "Here.." he offers, taking the concealer tube from your hand, putting it back in the makeup bag. "None of that today. You don't need that." He tells you, and you struggle to really agree. "Remember when you picked me up from my tattoo appointment?" He asks, and you nod.

"I didn't have enough time for makeup either.." you quietly admit, remembering how.. plain you'd looked in your own opinion.

"You looked great." He smiles. "I loved that lipgloss you wore."

"Just 'cause it was cherry flavored and you basically licked it all off in the car." You pout at him, and he breaks out in full on laughter, before nodding.

He remembers that too. Definitely.

"Just do the same as then. It looked perfect to me." He explains, and you sigh, before you take off the cap of the eyeliner, jumping over your shadow to really just go with the bare minimum today.

You're not sure why he wants that. Maybe so others won't look at you and he won't get jealous?

Does he ever even get jealous?

Suddenly, there's a hand on your ass while you're busy putting on the last swipes of mascara. "Jeon Jungkook!" You bark out, barely able to spot the young man running out the bathroom, caught red handed.

He's become a lot more confident in not only your relationship, but himself too.

Working out, wearing more form fitting clothes, showing off his tattoos and getting more piercings. He's truly growing into himself, and you love to see it- but in a way, it scares you. What if he doesn't want you anymore once he realizes what he could have instead?

You shouldn't think like that. No- he'd be an asshole if he ever leaves you because of looks, and your Jungkook isn't an asshole.

So there's no reason to worry!

With newfound determination, you slip on your thigh high stockings, before you put on your shoes and grab your bag, hugging a waiting Jungkook from behind.

"Ready?" He asks, and you nod-

Though not before you jump on the kitchen counter, pulling his shirt to force him closer, leaning in to kiss his collarbone-

Before you bite, making him somewhat gasp in surprise.

"What-" he asks with red ears, caught off guard by your playful and bold antics, before you lean in to peck his lips with your cherry flavored lipgloss.

"Now you're ready too." You purr at him, before you jump down again, skipping towards the door. "Gotta make sure I mark my territory." You tell him, and he can't help but shake his head laughing, grabbing his car keys.

You're really full of surprises.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook imagine

310 notes · View notes

silverameco · 12 days

Text

Locked in a Room - @wolfstarmicrofic - 718 words

"Sirius. Why the hell did the door just disappear ?"

"Hum. That's actually a great question Moonshine."

In an attempt to flee from Filch, Sirius had led them to the Room of Requirement. It looked quite cosy, with a large, plushy couch and a warm fireplace. It would have been perfect if not for the empty wall where the door had been mere seconds before.

Remus sat on the couch with an annoyed huff. Great, now he was even more angry with him.

"Come on, Moons, look at the bright side. It's basically your dream place. There are books, even."

Sirius was rewarded with a blank stare for his efforts. He was starting to feel his nerves get to him.

"Will you at least tell me what I did ? You've been like this for weeks ! Whatever it is, I'll fix it, I promise. I can't bear it when you're angry with me, Moony. Please, I'm dying over here."

He had let himself fall at the other end of the couch at some point during his rant. Remus was looking at him with wide eyes, seemingly surprised. Like he wasn't the one avoiding him all the time.

"It's not- you didn't do anything. I'm not angry with you."

Sirius had the sudden urge to stomp and demand answers like a child. He loved Remus' mysteries, but sometimes it was so frustating.

"Then what ? I know there's something. I know you."

He got closer to Remus, who raised his knees against his chest with his arms wrapped around them, like a barrier. His eyes were frantically searching Sirius' face.

"I can't tell you. You're going to hate me." he hid his face against his knees.

Sirius got close enough to put his hands on Remus' cheeks and raise his head again.

"Yeah, right. Like you thought I was going to hate you when I discovered you were a werewolf or when you told me you were gay. Haven't you learn Moony ? There's nothing that could ever make me hate you."

He hoped his sincerity was clear. Remus was looking at him with his lips slightly parted and his eyes swimming in emotion. His cheeks wore a light pink tint and his skin was so, so soft under his fingers. Before Sirius could register it happening, he was so close he could count the other's freckles, their foreheads touching.

It seemed only right than the next thing he did was pressing his lips against Remus'. He didn't think about it long enough to convince himself it was a bad idea. He just did it, like it was the only thing that had to be done. When Remus kissed him back, slow and soft, Sirius was pretty sure it was.

It didn't last nearly long enough. When they parted, Remus quickly moved to sit normally on the couch, bringing Sirius with him so he could straddle his lap. Sirius blinked and looked at him with a lopsided smile.

"What is it then ?"

"I love you." he whispered.

Sirius brought his arms around his neck and pressed his smile against his ear.

"I love you too."

They kissed for a long time after this. What started soft and sweet quickly turned hungry and passionate. Sirius was in heaven. He could feel Remus' warmth everywhere. He wanted to stay there forever. How convenient that they couldn't leave anyway.

"Hum, Sirius ?" Remus left his mouth to kiss his neck. "The door is back."

"Oh. But we don't have to leave right now, do we ?" he asked with a wicked smile.

"I suppose we don't." he answered, bringing his lips back to his neck.

When they finally got out, after what felt simultaneously like two decades and two minutes - even though Sirius knew it was probably two hours - Remus asked him what he thought about when he led them to the Room.

"Just that I needed somewhere to talk to you. Not my fault the Room thinks the only way for you to stop being stubborn is to lock you somewhere." he said with a proud smile.

#they're disgustingly sweet #i'm addicted to fluffy wolfstar #silv writes things #wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards

79 notes · View notes

gentlebeardsbarngrill · 4 months

Text

02/07/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast & Crew Sightings; More Rhys Cameos; Damien Gerard; Hugo PIerre Martin; More Samba BTS Feat. David Fane; Cosplay Day; Feb 8 Events: #WeLoveSamson; Upcoming Watchparties; UK Fan Effors: Radio!; YouGov Tutorial; Stats; Schadenfreude; More Clowning; Morale; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika.

= Cast & Crew Sightings =

Another Rhys Video on Cameo! This one in particular had a lot of folks clowning today. You can watch the video on cameo-- it's the newest one 3:51 seconds long with him in the hat and the red shirt. I tried to download it and upload it, and tumblr literally lost all my drafts because of it, I have no idea what happened so I'm not doing that again lol. Instead, here's the short video of what triggered the clowning.

"Thank you so much for all your support on Our Flag Means Death, they'll be more stuff happening in the future, keep listening and watching, and uh, yeah, peace out, Rhys Out, Don't let that Octopus out! BuhByeeee!"

Thank you @Jodegg for sharing this video with us!!!

== Damien Gerard! ==

Damien Gerard gave us a new BTS photo for #WearFineThingsWell

== Hugo Pierre Martin ==

Hugo, aka our friend the french doorman from The Best Revenge is Dressing Well poked his head out! We'd love to have you doing venues sir!

==More BTS from Samba!==

It's a David Fane themed day! Wanna see the videos too? Head on over to Samba's IG!

==Cosplay Day!==

Today was cosplay day and lots of folks shared their awesome costumes from today or over the past couple years! These are just a few highlights! Please feel free to hop over to IG or Twitter for more!

== Events for Feb 8! ==

Tomorrow is #WeLoveSamson Day! Let's show Samson Kayo some love for all his hard work and various characters! Feel free to reach out across platforms to send him some love! Pic Src: Samson's IG

Twitter / Instagram / Facebook

=Watch Party Reminders=

No watch party for Feb 8, but Feb 9 we've got: Love Birds Watch Party on Feb 9th - 9 pm GMT, 4 pm EST, 1pm PST.

Watch Party Hashtags:

#AdoptOurLoveBirds

#AdoptOurCrew

#SaveOFMD

== UK Fan Efforts ==

Fans are reaching out to radio stations in the UK! Very cool guide put together by @TeeHeeSeason3 on Twitter for contacting BBC radio stations in the UK regarding what to place to help support the OFMD Renewal.

== Focus Groups ==

Remember the focus group/surveys we mentioned yesterday on yougov.com? Well some folks have been trying to sign up and been having some issues finding OFMD, so our lovely, sweet, amazing @libbyroseitm was kind enough to make a tutorial for everyone! Twitter Thread. YouGov rating tutorial! Make an account first, then follow these steps. If you'd like to see what kinds of questions it asks for you to sign up, visit here. Step 1: On your Account page, scroll down until you see a link for "View All Ratings", and click that

Step 2: You'll be taken to a screen that says "Rate Everything", click on the link for "Not What you're looking for?" and it will pop up a model that gives you a button to click that says "Previous Version" Click that.

Step 3: Once in the new version, type the name of the show (or actor, writer, etc) you'd like to rate

Step 4: Select your show when it pops up, and then rate it and add an opinion if you'd like!

Special Notes:

People probably aught to be careful to keep personal information to themselves.

You can search for actors and other films and tv shows related to OFMD, not just the show itself.

Vote on things other than OFMD so they don't get suspicious.

= STATS STATS STATS =

As always, special thanks to our dear friend @meowzawowza_ over on twitter for their constant stats updates

== Schadenfreude ==

Awww, looks like WB Discovery Inc is still trending downwards. How sad. Thank you @btweenhisteeth for keeping us up to date on these sad sad times for WB!

== More Clowning ==

So today I learned of this "Honk Weather Control Center" account on twitter (@HonkForecast) and I have to say it's pretty great. So far for several days they've had "clown" forecasts for how much we should be clowning. Love it.

== Morale ==

Definitely head on over to Rhys' New Cameo video if you haven't already because as always his sunshine is a big ol dose of Vitamin Darby right to the soul and there's nothing that can replace that feeling!

== Love Notes ==

Done with your Rhys love? Great! But now you have to endure my unconditional love as well! *Maniacal laughter*

Are you aware that you are so very loved, my dear?

But also, did you know you're worthy of love?

All the love--- Like every kind you want (platonic, romantic, parental, agape, etc)

You are not difficult to love. Not at all.

You are not too much, or too little,

you're exactly the right amount,

and you are worthy of love just the way you are.

I've probably said it before, but I want you to know just how imperfectly perfect you all are, and every moment of every day you deserve love and happiness and everything you want in life.

The world is such a better place with you in it and all of your crewmates want you to know that. We care for you deeply my friends.

You matter, don't ever forget that.

= Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika =

So I just got done watching a bunch of Radiradirah on youtube (which is goofy AF btw, like New Zealand Monty Python style fun) and I can't get over Space Waltz, so tonight that's the theme. Look at these two stinking goofballs and their faces.

Night lovelies <3

PS: I never say it but thank you for all the lovely comments in the tags! They always make me smile, yall are the best!

#daily ofmd recap #ofmd daily recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd #our flag means death #save ofmd #rhys darby #save our flag means death #taika waititi #ofmd cosplay

101 notes · View notes

nostalgebraist · 1 year

Text

@oakfern replied to your post “it's going to be fun to watch the realization...”:

i feel like this is going to play out very similarly to voice assistants. there was a huge boom in ASR research, the products got a lot of hype, and they actually sold decently (at least alexa did). but 10 years on, they've been a massive failure, costing way more than they ever made back. even if ppl do think chatbot search engines are exciting and cool, it's not going to bring in more users or sell more products, and in the end it will just be a financial loss

(Responding to this a week late)

I don't know much about the history of voice assistants. Are there any articles you recommend on the topic? Sounds interesting.

ETA: Iater, I found and read this article from Nov 2022, which reports that Alexa and co. still can't turn a profit after many years of trying.

But anyway, yeah... this is why I don't have a strong sense of how widespread/popular these "generative AI" products will be a year or two from now. Or even five years from now.

(Ten years from now? Maybe we can trust the verdict will be in at that point... but the tech landscape of 2033 is going to be so different from ours that the question "did 'generative AI' take off or not?" will no doubt sound quaint and irrelevant.)

Remember when self-driving cars were supposed to be right around the corner? Lots of people took this imminent self-driving future seriously.

And I looked at it, and thought "I don't get it, this problem seems way harder than people are giving it credit for. And these companies show no signs of having discovered some clever proprietary way forward." If people asked me about it, that's what I would say.

But even if I was sure that self-driving cars wouldn't arrive on schedule, that didn't give me much insight into the fate of "self-driving cars," the tech sector meme. It wasn't like there was some specific deadline, and when we crossed it everyone was going to look up and say "oh, I guess that didn't work, time to stop investing."

The influx of capital -- and everything downstream from it, the trusting news stories, the prominence of the "self-driving car future" in the public mind, the seriousness which it was talked about -- these things went on, heedless of anything except their own mysterious internal logic.

They went on until . . . what? The pandemic, probably? I actually still don't know.

Something definitely happened:

In 2018 analysts put the market value of Waymo LLC, then a subsidiary of Alphabet Inc., at $175 billion. Its most recent funding round gave the company an estimated valuation of $30 billion, roughly the same as Cruise. Aurora Innovation Inc., a startup co-founded by Chris Urmson, Google’s former autonomous-vehicle chief, has lost more than 85% since last year [i.e. 2021] and is now worth less than $3 billion. This September a leaked memo from Urmson summed up Aurora’s cash-flow struggles and suggested it might have to sell out to a larger company. Many of the industry’s most promising efforts have met the same fate in recent years, including Drive.ai, Voyage, Zoox, and Uber’s self-driving division. “Long term, I think we will have autonomous vehicles that you and I can buy,” says Mike Ramsey, an analyst at market researcher Gartner Inc. “But we’re going to be old.”

Whatever killed the "self-driving car" meme, though, it wasn't some newly definitive article of proof that the underlying ideas were flawed. The ideas never made sense in the first place. The phenomenon was not really about the ideas making sense.

Some investors -- with enough capital, between them, to exert noticable distortionary effects on entire business sectors -- decided that "self-driving cars" were, like, A Thing now. And so they were, for a number of years. Huge numbers of people worked very hard trying to make "self-driving cars" into a viable product. They were paid very well to do. Talent was diverted away from other projects, en masse, into this effort. This went on as long as the investors felt like sustaining it, and they were in no danger of running out of money.

Often the "tech sector" feels less like a product of free-market incentives than it does like a massive, weird, and opaque public works product, orchestrated by eccentrics like Masayoshi Son, and ultimately organized according to the aesthetic proclivities and changing moods of its architects, not for the purpose of "doing business" in the conventional sense.

Gig economy delivery apps (Uber Eats, Doordash, etc.) have been ubiquitous for years, and have reported huge losses in every one of those years.

This entertaining post from 2020 about "pizza arbitrage" asks:

Which brings us to the question - what is the point of all this? These platforms are all losing money. Just think of all the meetings and lines of code and phone calls to make all of these nefarious things happen which just continue to bleed money. Why go through all this trouble?

Grubhub just lost $33 million on $360 million of revenue in Q1.

Doordash reportedly lost an insane $450 million off $900 million in revenue in 2019 (which does make me wonder if my dream of a decentralized network of pizza arbitrageurs does exist).

Uber Eats is Uber's "most profitable division” 😂😂. Uber Eats lost $461 million in Q4 2019 off of revenue of $734 million. Sometimes I need to write this out to remind myself. Uber Eats spent $1.2 billion to make $734 million. In one quarter.

And now, in February 2023?

DoorDash's total orders grew 27% to 467 million in the fourth quarter. That beat Wall Street’s forecast of 459 million, according to analysts polled by FactSet. Fourth quarter revenue jumped 40% to $1.82 billion, also ahead of analysts’ forecast of $1.77 billion.

But profits remain elusive for the 10-year-old company. DoorDash said its net loss widened to $640 million, or $1.65 per share, in the fourth quarter as it expanded into new categories and integrated Wolt into its operations.

Do their investors really believe these companies are going somewhere, and just taking their time to get there? Or is this more like a subsidy? The lost money (a predictable loss in the long term) merely the price paid for a desired good -- for an intoxicating exercise of godlike power, for the chance to reshape reality to one's whims on a large scale -- collapsing the usual boundary between self and outside, dream and reality? "The gig economy is A Thing, now," you say, and wave your hand -- and so it is.

Some people would pay a lot of money to be a god, I would think.

Anyway, "generative AI" is A Thing now. It wasn't A Thing a year ago, but now it is. How long will it remain one? The best I can say is: as long as the gods are feeling it.

#oakfern #ai tag

449 notes · View notes

bbobpul · 10 months

Text

break my heart again 2 — njm

PAIRING. na jaemin x reader SUMMARY.how's jaemin gonna give back for all of y/n's efforts now that he finally can? it's been years—just how much has everything changed? GENRE. angst, fluff, she fell first 🤭 W/C. 3.5k NOTE. hello, part two is here! so sorry i couldn't make a taglist. i didn't have time to make one. nevertheless, i hope this fic make its way back to you. love u all and thankies sm !!!! also, my requests are open !!!

(⁠☉⁠｡⁠☉⁠)⁠!⁠→ my other works !!!!!! part one here!!

i find it hard to picture myself ever being as dedicated to something or someone again, just like how i dedicated my entire college life to na jaemin.

lately, i've been feeling like i forgot what it's like to actually have a dream. back then, na jaemin was my dream, he was my driving force. i would force myself to wake up so early in the morning just so i could see him (or his car) enter the gates of the university. i would go to school even though i am sick and feel a lot better when i get home because i saw na jaemin. but now two years after graduating, i still haven't found a decent job that i actually enjoy.

it's a common experience that many people go through, and i suppose i shouldn't complain about it. maybe i need to put in more effort and push myself harder. part of me wonders if having na jaemin back in my life would rekindle that same sense of dedication that i once had. but as i say these thoughts out loud, they sound absurd, even to myself. why would i wish for my first love to return just so i could find a decent job? why would i long for na jaemin to come back merely to feel that spark in my life again? it's puzzling why i'm even dwelling on thoughts of him and wondering if he holds the key to my happiness and success.

oh, to dream.

oh, for that old dedication to still burn within you.

if only you hadn't acted so dumb that day. could life have taken a different path? are you even happy now? if you hadn't let fear hold you back back then, if you'd actually been brave enough to listen and follow through, would you be happier today?

but no matter how much you keep bothering yourself with that memory, if people come up to you and ask if you feel bad about everything that happened that day, you'd say no. you don't feel bad at all.

deciding to let him go was one of the best things you did. he seemed happy when you left, and after that, you never heard anything about him. he's like a touchy subject in your group of friends, which can be tough sometimes since you share friends. but does it really matter now? him not being in your life probably means he's happier and more peaceful, right?

are you feeling peaceful? is being stuck in a 9-5 job that hardly brought you joy a happy situation? scratch that. did being in that job make you happy? clearly not, as you've just mustered the bravery to quit. and in doing so, you've never felt more joyful.

did you really make the right decision?

just as you were pondering your own question, your phone buzzed on the bedside table. you grabbed it and saw that the caller was renjun, your incredibly patient best friend.

"y/n," he said, his tone becoming unusually serious. "what's up?" you asked. "do you need money?" "yeah?" "here's the deal: our college is putting together a documentary film, and they've chosen your department. but guess what? your old classmates are bombarding me with messages because it looks like you're ignoring them all. frankly, i can't believe you even answered my call," he griped. "wait, hold on. what film? and why would they pick me? are they searching for someone with a post-college life so sad that it belongs in a documentary?" "well, you were practically a legend back in college, so… and apparently, the director specifically wants you, which leads to… well, another issue…" "what's the problem now?" "it's going to be directed by jaemin."

and just like that, you ended the call. but a few seconds later, renjun's call came in again.

"i'm not going to do it." "you stubborn brat." "why him?" "i have no idea!" "why is he even directing? wasn't he studying architecture or something?" "i don't know, y/n. i haven't heard a single thing about him since your graduation." "what do you mean?" "that's not important now, y/n. you're in need of money, right? seize the opportunity. do it for the cash." “so will you do it or will you do it?” “for the cash.”

...

"y/n, you've moved on, haven't you? what's done is done. i'm pretty sure jaemin has forgotten all about it. this chance is coming your way, so just accept it." "i guess i will."

you're drawn in by the idea of making some extra money and the possibility of catching the eye of potential agents or employers. right now, you're at a crossroads, thinking about how this documentary could be a stepping stone to more job opportunities down the line. this situation is different from what usually drives you – this time, it's not about others, it's about focusing on your own goals and aspirations.

you're deliberately avoiding dwelling on your past. just as renjun mentioned, you've moved beyond it. what's done is done. right now, your focus is firmly on the present and the potential that lies ahead in the future.

what's in the past is behind us, including whatever existed between jaemin and you.

from renjun

tomorrow at lunchtime, they'll be going over the schedules and discussing what to film. if you want, you can chat with the director now. his number is 0825 813 2000.

in response, you simply replied with a "okay."

the night before the lunch meeting, a jumble of emotions has you in its grip. the idea of reconnecting with jaemin, who used to be your best friend and is now someone distant, fills you with a sense of awkwardness. you tell yourself that this is about working together and the chance to grow professionally.

after taking a deep breath, you decide to shoot jaemin a text. your fingers hesitate as you type, and the uncertainty you're feeling seems to seep into your message. you finally press send, and your text reads, "hey, it's y/n. heard we're meeting tomorrow for the documentary. just wanted to check in before that."

in almost no time, your phone buzzes with a response: "hey y/n, good to hear from you. yeah, looking forward to our meeting. let's catch up and chat about the project."

the conversation is polite, but beneath the surface, there's an unspoken layer of complexity. you can feel the hesitation in your exchange, a silent recognition of the shared history that's now a distant memory. as you talk about the meeting and the documentary, the easy flow you once had is noticeably absent.

as the texts go back and forth, a sense of tension seems to hang in the air. it's as though the years of friendship you once had are casting a shadow over your conversation. the effortless connection you once shared now requires effort, and both of you can sense the change.

as the conversation wraps up with a simple "see you tomorrow," you're left with a mix of excitement and anxiety. the idea of seeing jaemin again, especially in a professional context, stirs up a range of emotions. this situation is a stark reminder of just how much things have changed – and maybe how some things can't go back to the way they were.

you believed the conversation had concluded, only for your phone to ring once more, bearing yet another message from him. as you read the words on the screen, "i missed you, y/n," a rush of emotions floods over you.

"what's going on with him?" you mutter to yourself, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion. your gaze remains fixed on the message for a moment, your attention drawn to the three blinking dots in the corner – a sign that he's in the process of typing a response. several more seconds tick by, the dots eventually vanishing, and in response, you shut your phone off. you make an attempt to settle into bed and get some rest, but truth be told, it's hard to claim you managed to sleep soundly that night. an undercurrent of thoughts and emotions keeps your mind restless.

the day of lunch lunch finally arrived. you sat across from jaemin, his words forming a distant hum as your thoughts remained clouded and preoccupied. the lingering impact of his recent message kept you in a state of unease, making it difficult to fully engage in the conversation he was leading.

then, something inside you snapped, and you found yourself abruptly interrupting him with a question that had been gnawing at you, "why me?"

he looked at you, his gaze steady, and his response was quick, "why not you?"

your frustration simmered as his words hit you. he was choosing to be cryptic, and it was only adding to your confusion. pushing past your exasperation, you pressed on, "listen, i know we didn't part on the best terms, but why come back now and act like everything's fine? i mean, sure, it's better than hostility, but why choose me? i'm the one who's no longer part of your life."

his expression remained neutral, void of any emotions as he replied, "that's not true."

you raised an eyebrow, challenging him to elaborate. "what's not true?"

"that you have nothing to do with my life, y/n," he stated firmly.

the weight of his words settled heavily between you two, the gravity of the situation growing more apparent. the lunch table had transformed into an arena for confronting unresolved issues.

you scoffed, unable to hold back your disbelief. "jaemin, i made one mistake, and now you're trying to imply that my actions shaped your entire life?"

his eyes held yours, unwavering. "y/n, it's not just about that one mistake. everything that followed, everything that shaped who i am today… it's all connected to you."

your mind reeled, trying to grasp the enormity of what he was suggesting. the complexities of your shared history seemed to crash over you, leaving you grappling with a whirlwind of emotions and a tangled web of unspoken feelings.

the weight of his words left you momentarily speechless, and in an attempt to shift away from the intensity, you sought to change the subject. "where are the other producers? why is it just you here?"

"y/n…" he began, his tone suggesting he wanted to continue the previous conversation.

however, you opted to sidestep the discussion entirely. you pretended as if the profound exchange hadn't just occurred. "i notice you're taking on the role of a director now. quite the career shift, huh?" you inquired, masking your internal turmoil with a casual demeanor. you acted as if there hadn't been a two-year gap in your connection, as though things between you were perfectly ordinary.

he met your gaze, a faint hint of something unreadable in his eyes. "i pursued another dream when i felt i'd lost the chance for my first one."

"your first dream… not architecture, then?" you prodded, curious about the direction he had taken.

he shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him, leaving you puzzled yet again. "no, not architecture. well, i suppose that just wasn't meant for me back then, but maybe it is now."

the cryptic nature of his response only added to the layers of confusion and intrigue that surrounded him. there was something about the way he spoke that hinted at deeper currents beneath the surface, emotions and experiences that he hadn't fully revealed. you found yourself torn between the desire to push for answers and the instinct to allow him his privacy. the lunch meeting had transformed into a stage for untangling not just the complexities of the documentary but also the intricate web of emotions and history between you and jaemin.

leaving the restaurant, a whirlwind of unanswered questions dances in your mind. yet, for now, you choose to tuck those thoughts away, focusing instead on the looming filming date just a few days away – next saturday.

in the span of time between that lunch and the upcoming shoot, jaemin proves consistent in his attempts to bridge the gap between you two. he regularly reaches out, updating you about his day and proposing get-togethers, which you consistently decline.

the days pass, marked by a series of messages and missed opportunities. despite the undeniable tension, there's an undeniable persistence on jaemin's part, a determined effort to reconnect and reestablish a sense of familiarity. however, your apprehensions and the memories of your past dynamics hold you back, keeping you from embracing his overtures.

as the countdown to the filming day continues, you find yourself in a delicate dance – balancing the unresolved history between you and the prospects of the future. the lines between your personal and professional lives are blurred, and the documentary project becomes a backdrop against which the intricacies of your relationship with jaemin play out.

you find yourself constantly pondering what his intentions could be. his actions leave you wondering, and you can't help but question what he's aiming for. in your perspective, you're merely a negative aspect of his life – a streak of misfortune. you would have expected him to have learned from the past, but his determination remains unshakeable.

as you contemplate these thoughts, your phone lights up once more, bearing yet another message from him. his name on the screen triggers a whirlwind of emotions – a mixture of uncertainty, annoyance, and a hint of curiosity. opening the message, you brace yourself for whatever he might convey this time. the consistency in his attempts at communication only serves to deepen the intricate web of emotions you hold for him, leaving you caught between your shared history and the unpredictability of the present.

"the offer's still there, y/n. :)" "jaemin, let's be real. just because i'm on board with your documentary idea doesn't mean we're suddenly best buds again. a lot has changed." "i want to reconnect, though." "actually, scratch that. i want to get to know you all over again." "jaemin, i appreciate the effort, but let's keep things professional, okay?" “i’m sorry, y/n. goodnight.”

after your straightforward message, his responses ceased. a silence settled in, stretching on until saturday – the day you were set to see him again. the anticipation and uncertainty had been building, and now the moment was finally at hand.

you stepped into the studio and immediately noticed that you and jaemin were the only ones present. your confusion must have been evident on your face, prompting him to address the situation promptly.

"um, the team thought having fewer people in the room would create a more personal atmosphere," he began, his voice carrying a hint of unease. "and, well, they decided to keep me here, you know, being the director and all, and also because we have a history…"

his words trailed off, and there was a subtle vulnerability in his tone. it was as if he was acknowledging the intricacies of your past connection, while simultaneously recognizing the complexities it introduced into your current dynamic. the studio, usually a place of creativity and collaboration, had transformed into a space laden with the weight of your shared history.

"it's okay," you responded, your words carrying a touch of reassurance. as your reply registered, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips – a detail you couldn't help but notice. after all, it was that very smile that had ignited four years of your life, a smile that held memories and emotions you had both shared.

"um, i'll just ask you a few questions, and then you're free to go," he stated, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness that didn't escape your notice. this new facet of his demeanor felt unfamiliar to you, a departure from the confident jaemin you had known.

you found yourself disliking this uneasiness, and a thought occurred to you – maybe it was time to rekindle something within him. as he began asking you questions, you decided to respond in a way that would evoke a certain familiarity between you two. it was a subtle attempt to bridge the gap, to draw out the person you once knew.

you had believed that his silence was what you wanted. you had convinced yourself that distancing yourself from him would protect you from the past mistakes. but now, facing the reality of the situation, you realized that perhaps a certain selfishness was ingrained within you. maybe, just maybe, you yearned to erase the distance, to defy your own rationalizations.

in this moment, you found yourself yearning to rekindle what had been lost, to bring back a connection that once meant so much. the conflicting emotions within you painted a complex picture of your desires – a battle between self-preservation and the longing for something more.

however, as you locked eyes with him and saw the lack of any discernible emotion in his gaze, a haunting wave of fear resurfaced within you. in that moment, it was as if time rewound, taking you back to the day of your graduation when your heart and spirit had felt shattered. the memory of that painful experience rushed back, accompanied by the doubts and uncertainties that had plagued you.

if you were to truly confront your own feelings, you'd admit that what you witnessed that night had left you questioning your own worth. the events had stirred up doubts about whether you had ever been deserving of taking risks for, whether you had ever been someone worth fighting for.

"hey, good morning, y/n."

"morning, director."

"how's today treating you?"

"pretty good, thanks."

"hmm, and what's life been like after college?"

"…"

"take your time."

"at first, i felt okay. my friends were all getting closer to their dreams, and i was genuinely happy for them. especially…"

"especially who?"

"especially the person i left behind."

"…"

"i was content being happy for someone else. then another year went by, and i wasn't feeling so great anymore."

"do you really think they're happy?"

"hmm?"

"the person you left behind."

"yeah. and my other friends seem happy too. they've got jobs they love, they're with people they care about, and i only had… renjun *laughs* … but sometimes, i can't help but feel like i'm the one who got left behind, you know? even though i was the one who walked away."

"let's talk about your person."

"oh *laughs* he's not my person."

pausing for a moment, you glanced at jaemin behind the camera. the question lingered in your mind: what was he trying to do? his actions and intentions remained a puzzle.

his expression grew serious, his gaze fixed intently on you. it was as if he had something to convey, something he was holding back.

"the last time i actually saw him was in an instagram post. he was with some girl. it happened on my graduation day. i waited the whole day, hoping he'd appear in the midst of the crowd. when he didn't, i held onto the possibility of seeing him by the gates. but that didn't happen either. my last hope was maybe he'd send me a single message, but by the end of the day, nothing came. then i went on instagram and saw a photo – a warning, i guess. a warning that i should just stop hoping. that… happened a few weeks later, i think. or maybe it was just a few days after our argument, the one where he told me he couldn't love… yeah."

you met his gaze and once again, his face was serious. his eyes were furrowed and his mouth was slightly open. a few moments passed, and he let out a shaky breath. screw it, you thought, it's out there now and i don't care anymore.

your silent exchange was interrupted as he shifted the camera away. confusion clouded your thoughts as you watched him move. he turned back to you, his expression still serious, and then he grabbed a chair from the nearby table. he sat down with his back facing you.

the room felt charged with unspoken emotions, leaving you to question his intentions and actions. it was as if he was peeling away layers, searching for something beneath the surface.

"did you know that…" he began, his voice breaking the silence. "she was his sister?"

"i never told you about her, that's on me," he admitted with a chuckle. "that was her last day, y/n. so i decided to spend the entire day with her. i'm sorry."

you were taken aback. "i'm sorry–"

"it's okay, y/n."

"i know i left you with so many questions that night, but let me tell you… every effort you made, every cookie you baked, i cherished all of it. i loved you. i'm sorry if my actions made you doubt yourself."

another pause filled the air.

"i left when you left."

"you were my dream. architecture wasn't really my passion, you know? i was struggling a lot, but luckily, you were there with me. i decided to chase after what i truly loved when you left, because i realized if i wanted you back in my life, it should be when i'm at my best, right? i wasn't lying when i said i couldn't love. i didn't want to love you when i was broken. i wanted to be the best version of myself for you. i thought that if i wanted you to be with the best person, then that should be me. so i became that person, a director, and then i planned all of this." his eyes finally met yours.

"i was always looking at you."

tears welled up in your eyes, and he seemed to notice. he took a step towards you and enveloped you in his arms.

"i'm sorry for not holding onto you back then, baby. but i promise, i won't let go of you now," he whispered.

"i'm sorry for leaving, jaemin," you sobbed.

"shh, you did what you thought was right."

"do you want to have lunch with me now?" he asked.

a mixture of emotions flooded your heart, and with a nod, you replied, "yes, jaemin."

251 notes · View notes