#That being a loyal Warlord

[luffington]

young master ♡

➤ summary: You don't worship the ground Doflamingo walks on, and it turns him on a little too much. (18+)

➤ pairing: doflamingo x afab!reader

➤ word count: 3.7k

➤ warnings: kinda sub!doflamingo (he’s a horny menace), mild dubcon, possessive doffy, spit kink, oral (f receiving), masturbation (m receiving), degradation, name-calling

➤ notes: this takes place before dressrosa but i’m only halfway done with the arc so sorry for any inaccuracies! i haven't posted my writing online in years so please lmk what you think :3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Doflamingo was sulking. His signature smile was comically turned upside down and his arms were crossed over his chest. Feet resting on top of his desk as he leaned back in his plush office chair, crumpling the important documents strewn underneath them that he was meant to review and sign. He knew he probably looked like a petulant child, and he felt like one, too. This was all your fucking fault.

Even though you were only in your twenties, you were already a well-known Vice Admiral. Vergo had informed Doflamingo of your impressive Haki abilities months ago, but that wasn’t the only reason he kept a close eye on you. You were sexy as hell, even in a Marines uniform, and he delighted in every brief interaction he had with you at Warlord meetings. When you decided to take some time off, he snatched you up immediately with a tantalizing job offer. After all, working for him was technically still a Government job, and he was helping so many countries in need!

You made it clear from the very beginning that this was a temporary gig and you had no intention of permanently joining the Donquixote Family. You were his business partner, not his subordinate. He never planned on honoring that agreement, of course, but you were making his plans particularly difficult. 

The man had hundreds of thousands – if not millions – of loyal and passive subjects. Obedient workers who never questioned his judgment and praised his iron fist, from the filthy commoners at the bottom to the Elite Officers up top. But not you. 

You had the kind of effortless confidence that got under his skin. You were unbothered and detached from his evil antics, from him. He made his presence known everywhere he went and was always the focus of the room, but it seemed like you paid more attention to the damn servants than him. His threats and intimidation which made thousands tremble in fear hardly made you flinch. When he revealed the secret of Dressrosa’s toys in hopes of getting a reaction from you, you practically yawned. 

You knew who he was. You knew what he was capable of. You didn’t fucking care.

You weren’t afraid of him, and this greatly disturbed him.

A few days ago, you had strolled into his office without even knocking on the door. He furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, but you barely took notice. You were there to discuss your agreement in order to figure out a time frame of how long he needed you. He threw his head back and laughed loudly as he said, “That’s adorable. You really think you can get away from me, hm?”

Perceptive as always, you noticed the slightest twitch of his middle finger and immediately held an Armament Haki-coated hand in front of your chest, blocking the nearly invisible string flung your way. “Doffy, I’m being serious.”

He frowned and narrowed his eyes. Diamante used that nickname once in front of you and now you wouldn’t call him anything else. You thought it was cute. “Since when can you block my strings?”

“Do you really think I’d be a Vice Admiral if I couldn’t do that? You were so obvious about it, too.” You clicked your tongue, knowing full well that anyone less powerful than you wouldn’t be able to perceive his movement. Prominent veins popped in Doflamingo’s forehead but the blonde man stayed silent. “I think I’ll stay here for a few more months, at least. Maybe longer if I don’t have a terrible time here. Dressrosa is kind of growing on me.” 

“You’re acting like I can’t keep you here by force.” Doflamingo interrupted your train of thought. “I could have Sugar turn you into a cute little doll, and then your Vice Admiral position would disappear. Or Giolla could turn you into a painting to hang on my wall.” He paused as if considering his options, knowing full well what he truly wanted. “Maybe I’ll keep you tied up with strings as my own personal pet.”

Many times he’d pictured you tied to the headboard of his bed, stripped naked and covered in his drying cum as he used you however he wanted. Perhaps then he’d finally ignite a spark of fear in you. 

“If you actually wanted to do that, it would’ve happened already. But you’re the one who hired me, remember?” You acted like you were explaining something obvious to a kid. “If you try anything against me, I can always call up the Navy and tell them what you’re doing to your poor innocent citizens. Maybe even let them know your alias? Begins with a J, right?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He snarled, sitting up in his seat immediately and binding strings around your wrists to keep them pinned above your head. You kept your eyes trained on his, a determined and almost taunting glint in them. 

“I’m not a big fan of blackmail, so I don’t want to do that,” you replied in an even tone. “I’m just saying that I can. Now, are we gonna talk business, or are you gonna play cat’s cradle all day?”

Doflamingo should’ve killed you right then and there. That would’ve put an end to his confusing thoughts about you, but your conversation only made them worse. You were on his mind constantly, to the point where he couldn’t focus on anything else. It was an obsession, an infatuation, one completely unbecoming of a heavenly being like himself. People were meant to grovel at his feet and kiss the very ground he walked on – why the fuck were you not affected?

He finally had enough. He pushed the chair away from his desk and stormed out of his office. Servants hurried away in fear, knowing that his scowl and heavy footsteps meant nothing but trouble. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled around his mind — he wanted to make you scream, to completely immobilize you with his power, to kiss you so hard you saw stars. No, that wasn’t it. 

He wanted you to call him ‘Young Master’. 

Doflamingo threw open the double doors to a secluded drawing room in his typical dramatic flair. You were alone, reclining on a couch and reading a book. Even this pissed him off – you were in a potential viper’s nest, surrounded by powerful people who could turn on you at any point, yet you didn’t feel the need to keep others around you for protection. You turned your head towards the intruder in confusion. His massive body filled the door frame and light from the hallway illuminated him and his feathery coat from behind, making him look like a fallen angel.

“What Devil Fruit did you eat.” It was a statement, not a question. His voice was a dangerously low growl. 

“I already told you, I didn’t eat one.” You said slowly, slightly thrown off by his demeanor but still not afraid. 

“You lying bitch!” He roared, using his strings to slam the doors behind him as he crossed the room towards you in three giant steps. “You must have some kind of mind control ability, or manipulation, or… I don’t fucking know! Tell me what’s happening!” He threw his head in his hands and crouched over, almost as if he was in pain. “Why can’t I stop fucking thinking about you!”

Your mouth opened slightly and you blinked a few times to process the situation, and then it hit you. A sly grin slowly formed on your face as you dog-eared your book and set it down next to you. You knew this man was incapable of love in its purest sense, but maybe… “Doffy, have you never been attracted to someone before?”

His head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at you furiously behind his sunglasses. Of course he’d fucking been attracted to people – he refused to settle for nothing but the best with his lovers. He had fucked enough sexy men and women over the years to form a small army. But none of them were like you. 

They were all cheaply made toys, suitable for one or two uses then tossed in the trash when they broke or when he got bored. He was a greedy and spoiled child who always got what he wanted. But with you… it felt like he was staring through the front window of a shop at a shiny new toy. So close and so enticing but completely out of reach.

“Fuck you! I… I…” You would never know how that sentence was supposed to end, because he sunk to his knees and hung his head in frustrated shame. He slammed his fist against the floor hard enough to rattle the room. “Why won’t you belong to me?!”

The almighty King of Dressrosa, the feared Warlord, the powerful underground broker, was on his knees begging for you. He knew he sounded pathetic. He felt pathetic. But he couldn’t go a moment longer without getting what he wanted, what was rightfully his. 

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You had always stood your ground because you knew your worth, but sometimes you did it to purposely push the blonde man’s buttons since no one else seemed to have the courage to do so. But you were just teasing him – this was not the outcome you had in mind. 

You slowly stood from the couch to move in front of him. Even bent over, the massive man was practically your height, but he had never seemed smaller.

“Doffy,” you began in a quiet voice and reached out to gently touch his feather-clad shoulder, but he slammed the ground again. 

“I don’t need you to patronize me! I need…” he trailed off again and hesitated for a moment before realizing what he needed to do to calm the fire roaring inside him. Fine, he would give you a fucking reason to worship him. He threw himself at your midsection, making you yelp in surprise. He had finally drawn a reaction out of you, and it spurred him on even more. Rough hands yanked your shirt up to your breasts and he hungrily mouthed at the soft skin of your tummy, a frenzied mess of tongue and teeth and soft lips. “I need you. Give yourself to me.” He said breathlessly, punctuating his words with a sharp bite at your hip. 

You were frozen in place but weak in the knees, unable to do anything but accept his bites and bruises. You’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined what his long tongue and nimble fingers felt like on your body, in your body. He nipped at your skin hard enough to bruise then soothed it with his tongue, sending heat straight to your core. 

Doflamingo was in a drugged-like haze, mind clouded with a dizzying mix of lust and hatred and longing. He belatedly noticed that you weren’t resisting him when he popped the button on your jeans. When he looked up, he realized your cheeks were flushed and your gaze was trained on his long fingers dancing along the waistband of your pants. 

He smiled wickedly, feeling a sliver of regained control. “You fucking whore. You want this, don’t you?”

“Doffy, you’re the one literally trying to get in my pants.”

“Shut up.” He snarled, annoyed yet allured by your sweet giggle afterwards. He yanked your jeans down to your ankles to reveal pretty pink lace panties underneath. They practically matched the color of his coat – you had to have worn those just for him. Might as well take them later. 

A needy and unashamed whine tore from his lips when he saw your pussy. Even more perfect than he’d imagined all those times he fucked his fist alone in bed. He told himself this was what was necessary to crush that annoying ego of yours, knowing full well he was nearly shaking with pure carnal desire. He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise and shoved your thighs apart before diving in. His tongue was ravenous, licking a sloppy stripe from your ass to your clit, mouth closing around the nub and sucking harshly. The sweetest moan he’d ever heard fell from your lips and he echoed it, eager to hear more. 

Fingers tangled in his short blonde hair as you tried to steady yourself. It was too much all at once. You tried to tug him away to tell him to slow down, yet wanted to pull him even closer. Doflamingo flinched at the contact. Part of him wanted to tie your hands behind your back because how dare you touch him without permission. But instead, he groaned at the rough pull on his scalp, which went straight to his hardening cock. His grip on you tightened as he dragged you further onto his face.

His long tongue lapped messily at your folds then slipped into your cunt, shallowly thrusting the wet tip in and out. He laughed in delight at your delicious juices coating his tastebuds and making his head spin.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He panted and rubbed his nose against your clit, making you jump. A sloppy string of his saliva still connected his mouth to your entrance. “I think you like me after all.”

“I’d like anyone who eats me out this good,” you quipped.

“But no one’s as good as me, hm?” To prove his point, he shoved the entirety of his skilled tongue deep inside you. You threw your head back and whined as the wet muscle curled and twisted inside you, hungrily lapping at your sensitive inner walls. “No one will ever be as good as me. Say you’re mine and you can have this every day.”

“F-fuck, Doffy… so, mmh, good…” He ate you out like a man starved, desperately sucking at every part of your pussy he could reach. One hand moved from your hip, leaving dark blue fingerprint-shaped bruises behind, and plunged into his own pants. He let out a deep groan at the contact.

“Call me Young Master.” Doflamingo breathed heavily as he pulled his pants down slightly. Your jaw dropped when he revealed his massive and fully erect dick, leaking beads of precum and bobbing against his stomach. You knew he’d be big based on his height, but this was inhuman. The blonde man noticed your hungry gaze and chuckled. “You want me so badly. Stop denying the truth and I’ll give you everything you want. I am a benevolent king, after all.”

You actually laughed at that, and he didn’t even try to be angry – being on full display for you meant he couldn’t hide the way your disobedience made his cock twitch. His other hand slithered between your legs and rubbed at your folds and the smile fell off your face.

You stumbled backwards – there was nothing behind you to lean on and your legs were quickly turning into jelly. “W-wait, Doffy, I can’t, ahh, l-let me sit…”

Two of his fingers moved downwards and bound your feet to the floor with his string. Immobilizing your bottom half like a statue but intentionally leaving your top half free to grab at his hair and body as you pleased. “Your king will grant you permission to move when I want to.” 

“S’okay, I l-like seeing you look up to me for once.” Your witty reply was lost on the blonde, who had spread your folds apart and was hypnotized by your entrance clenching around nothing. You were so fucking tiny compared to him and he ached at the thought of molding your insides to take him and him alone.

Just one thick finger was enough to make you moan and pant, slowly pushing its way inside your cunt. “Shit, you’re so tight.” The soft squelches of your inner walls rang in his ears and pretty pearls of precum leaked from his dick. “Perfect fucking pussy. Give it to me.”

A second digit was soon added, scissoring you apart expertly. Unsurprisingly, the man really knew how to use his fingers. He crooked them and brushed against your most sensitive spot, causing you to cry out and hold onto him even harder. Sharp teeth playfully bit at your inner thigh in response. Doflamingo gathered some of the constant dribble of precum from the tip of his cock to lube his rough palm. He considered making you spit on his hand to ease the glide, but a better idea came to mind.

“Spit in my mouth.” He ordered, tilting his head up and sticking his tongue out. Waiting for you to follow his command like a good toy.

You were taken aback by the sudden request, but you gathered a ball of spit in your mouth like you were told… and it landed directly on the lens of his sunglasses, obscuring the vision of one eye. Doflamingo knew that it wasn’t just badly aimed. This was an act of defiance. You intentionally spit on his defining accessory, his very essence.

“You stupid slut.” The venomous insult came with a maniacally pleased grin. He pushed the stained glasses onto his forehead and you finally saw his eyes for the first time. Gorgeous and bright blue with lust-blown pupils. Looking at his beautifully depraved expression in its entirety, you briefly wondered if he really was an angel. His fingers sped up to a nearly brutal pace and he slipped in a third digit, causing you to choke on your spit. “Love me. Love me.”

A divine being who fell from heaven to beg at your feet. 

“Y-you’re fucking insane,” you panted with a blissful smile, your cunt clenching down deliciously on him. “Make up your, mmh, mind.”

“Adore me.” He responded immediately. “Say you’re mine. Be mine.”

Even though you refused to respond, the blonde was lost in his fantasies yet grounded in the reality of your beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure. Mouth hanging open, hands nearly going numb from how hard you held onto him. He needed to see you like this every day – no, every hour. He could keep you under his desk like a pet, ready to suck his dick whenever he allowed you to. Or maybe you’d sit in his lap all day, one of his hands fondling your tits as he attended meetings and forced his subordinates to watch him play with his favorite toy. 

But that was too mundane. He could snatch up anyone in Dressrosa right now and do the same. No, the twisted fantasy that really made his cock ache was already happening. That annoyingly sexy confidence of yours was threatening his godliness. 

Maybe he’d make you step on him next time.

“Call me Young Master,” he begged again, too far gone to realize how ridiculous he sounded. Tongue hanging out like a dog (and panting like one, too), he rutted into his hand even faster. His cock was absolutely throbbing, red and angry and dripping precum. He was in no position to be giving orders. You stifled a giggle with your hand, which quickly turned into a moan as his fingers bumped against your cervix. 

“I already t-told you,” you sucked in a few shaky breaths. He was watching you intently and still smiling, but his fingers never slowed down. “You’re not my –mm– Master, I don’t, ahh, work for you…”

“But why not?” He whined again. “At least call me it when you cum. I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t.” 

You didn’t acknowledge the ridiculously empty threat, instead throwing your head back when his fingers crooked against your most sensitive spot. Slick was dribbling down your legs – Doflamingo licked it off of your thighs before slurping around his digits buried inside you. The blonde echoed your unashamedly loud moans, practically on the edge himself. He only needed one thing to send him into a rapturous white bliss. 

He stared up at you unblinkingly, face frozen in a grin as he took in all the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm. Sweat dribbled down your forehead, eyebrows furrowed together, body tense and breath hot. “I-I’m gonna… gonna…” He crooked his fingers inside you the way he’d done thousands of times to turn people into obedient little puppets.

“Doffy~!” Your face contorted into the most divine expression he’d ever seen, crying out his name like a desperate prayer. 

You ignored his order. You used that stupid fucking nickname. 

He came hard. 

The tight coil that had been building in his groin for days at the mere thought of you finally snapped. An animalistic moan left his lips as thick ropes of cum coated his hand and spilled onto his abdomen. He looked even more blissed out than you, panting hard and shuddering and nearly overstimulating himself with the hand on his cock still slowly moving up and down. 

Doflamingo finally removed his fingers from inside you and loudly sucked them clean of your essence. Still craning his neck upwards so he wouldn’t break eye contact with you. You could lose yourself inside that piercing gaze, so full of obsession and hunger, especially when it was coming from a position of worship rather than condescension. 

Blinking out of your stupor, you realized the blonde’s cum-coated hand was in front of your mouth. If you were anyone else, he would’ve shoved his fingers all the way to your throat and made you choke on it. Instead, he stayed still and kept quiet. This was an offering. 

You grabbed his wrist and kitten-licked his sticky palm twice, humming thoughtfully as if appraising the taste. His grin grew even wider. Then you pulled away and teasingly said, “You take care of the rest of it.”

Doflamingo simply giggled in delight — you’d willingly tasted the essence of a god, one that was soon to be your god, but you were still too stubborn to give in. He didn’t expect you to crumble so easily and he didn’t want you to. He was having way too much fun. The blonde smeared the rest of his cum on the crotch of the pink panties still pooled around your ankles. 

“That’s disgusting.” You huffed in annoyance and rolled your eyes. “What am I supposed to wear out of here?”

The man chuckled lowly and rose to his feet, suddenly towering above you at full height. He wiped the dried spit off of his sunglasses before returning them to their rightful place on the bridge of his nose. 

“Who said anything about leaving?” You paled at the sight of his devilish grin but felt your core clench in need. “You still haven’t called me by my proper title.”

[mahtariel-of-himring]

Silm Headcanon:

Battle braids were common amongst the Noldor when they first arrived in Beleriand. The tradition of braids had transitioned from Valinorian family, friendship or marriage braids into ones for battle. New styles were invented and quickly spread across the Noldorian community.

The length, placement, thickness and beads that were added or not added told stories of survival and hardship throughout time.

The most common ones were the following:

First battle braids, a simple three strand braid with a black bead marking that an elf had spilled their first black blood.

Partaker braids, for different big battles that simply marked a soldier as having been apart of said fight.

Fealty braids, openly showing who one’s loyalty lies with.

And at last survivors braids, these were worn by those who survived any type of imprisonment by dark creatures, there was also a more complicated version of this braid for former thralls of Angband.

There were also very rare braids which brought the wearer great respect and honor if an elven warrior wore said braid in their hair.

One of the rarest and most admired was the braid marking the survival of an encounter with Sauron, which on its own was feat enough.

It was a complicated four too five thread braid with multiple smaller or larger beads depending on the length or severity of the meeting.

Another was the one worn by Balrog slayers. This braid however only really surfaced after the first age when Glorfindel returned from Valinor since there were no surviving Balrog slayers to wear it.

One of the few braids that stayed the same from Valinor to Beleriand was the braid of the High King. Having only ever been worn by Finwë, Fëanor, Maedhros, Fingolfin, Fingon and Turgon.

Gil-Galad did not continue this tradition due to his decent from the house of Finarfin who‘s braiding traditions, just as many other elven houses, had faded over the years.

But since braids were mainly worn by the first to arrive in Beleriand after the flight of the Noldor, therefore fëanorians and their loyalists over time battle braids became a symbol of their house which quickly resulted and a fast decline of elven battle braids being seen on daily basis.

After the second and third kinslaying they had nearly completely disappeared in all but those still loyal to the remaining two son‘s of Fëanor and the son‘s themselves.

There were also unique braid, only ever worn by one person.

One of those was Maedhros‘ side braid.

A simple but elegant side braid on his left with no beads or pearls or any decorations whatsoever.

He wore it always after his rescue from the cliffs of Thangorodrim.

This braid was neatly kept, closly against his skull and tightly braided.

The braid of Maedhros became a symbol for the Lord of Himring and only ever associated with him and his qualities.

His formidable talent as a warlord, his unchallenged title as the greatest and fiercest swordsman of Beleriand, his fëanorian heritage and his standing as leader of the followers of house Fëanor.

The orcs, goblins, werewolves and evil men began to fear the braid of the red haired elf and his name became even more devastating to them than it already was.

After Maedhros died none dared ever wear his braid, for it stood for a fury no one dared claim as their own.

The centuries went by and braids got fewer and fewer. The second age was nearly at its end and the war against Sauron in full go.

But then came the day on which Sauron’s forces marched with Celebrimbor‘s dead body used as a flag.

And the infamous fury of the Lord of Himring was set ablaze in another, one who deemed himself close to the deceased elf to this day.

Elrond.

When he saw his beloved cousin’s body, defaced and dishonored that fire his foster father had carried was lit within him, and something snapped.

The next day the entire army was in shock and disbelief as their King‘s herald walked onto the battlefield wearing said infamous side braid, paired with a set of armor made by Celebrimbor, and an ear cuff also known for having once belonged to Maedhros.

That day the orcs of Sauron learned to fear the fury of the half elf, for they had already forgotten what true Noldorian spirit was. Elrond cut them down one by one, killing hundreds of orcs by himself and struck terror into the hearts of his enemies as they watched their companions fall to his blade.

Elrond didn’t stop until nearly all orcs were either dead or had fled from his wrath.

Then he went to find his cousins body. He freed him from the wooden pole he had been bound to and carried him away. Far off into nature, away from Lindon and Eregion, far away from all they once knew and laid him to rest in a peaceful spot where many flowers grew and old trees surrounded them.

To this day Lord Elrond visits his cousin often, for his final resting place is no far from Imladris, and to this day he wears the braid once associated with Maedhros, and he would do so until his arrival in Valinor.

[zaldritzosrose]

Viridity (Sihtric x Alfred's Daughter!Reader)

Summary: There was a fine line between innocence and naivety, and you seemed to dance that line so perfectly. Your life as King Alfred’s youngest daughter had sheltered you somewhat, though never to your detriment. You knew things but had never experienced them. Until a certain Dane entered Winchester. Sihtric, loyal to Uhtred and the object of every ounce of desire and affection you were capable of. He was just as entranced, drawn in by a sweetness he felt so tempted to taste.

CW: MINORS DNI, afab reader, she/her pronouns, Sihtric being a gentleman, reader is sheltered, innocent reader, loss of virginity, p in v sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), Sihtric being a consent king.

Thank you anon (@sxphia-g) for this lovely request, apologies for the delay!

Words: 5575

The Witans were always quite a dull affair, in your opinion, but it was a privilege to attend. Something you and your sister were reminded of more often than not. Though you usually paid little attention to whatever the lords around you spoke of, more because you rarely understood all the intricate details, you did enjoy the opportunity to meet people outside of your family.

It wasn’t that your father wanted you unaware, but he was more protective of you than Aethelflaed. Maybe it was because you were younger, maybe it was because he had learned from mistakes through Aethelflaed that he did not want to repeat with you.

While for the most part, it kept you safe, it also kept you sheltered. Innocent in things you should likely know at this age. It was expected, as a royal daughter, that you would be guarded at all times. But there were things you wished to experience. Be it a walk through the city, or a night at a tavern. Things other people got to experience, but you had resigned yourself to knowing you never would.

Until a certain brown-haired Dane returned to Winchester.

The battle had been arduous, and it was not long before the group was called back to Winchester. Word had come to Uhtred in the aftermath, concerning an up-and-coming Dane warlord and before the Lord could even move to handle it, word had travelled even further to Winchester. They had barely cleaned the dirt and blood from their skin before they were making the journey back to the King.

“Would it not be easier for us to remain and handle the threat immediately?” Sihtric asked, poking the flames of their campfire with a stick.

He was tired. They were all tired. Sihtric could still feel the blood drying on his clothing. Uhtred simply shrugged, an order from Alfred was not something he could just ignore. He had bound himself to the Saxon king, and by extension bound his men.

“You know I cannot deny Alfred, Sihtric,” Uhtred said, sounding just as resigned as Sihtric had.

Whether they liked it or not, they were returning to Winchester.

Word had come that morning, Lord Uhtred had been seen riding towards Winchester, fresh from battle. Rooms at a nearby inn had already been set aside for the arriving warriors and your father was almost buzzing with energy at the prospective arrivals.

“Have you ever met him before, Lord Uhtred I mean?” you asked your sister, and Aethelflaed gave you a look.

“I have, a few times when father would allow it.” Aethelflaed replied with a smile.

She understood your excitement, it wasn’t often you were around to meet your father’s visitors. Your sister could practically feel the excitement roll off you. But she knew you well enough that it wasn’t Lord Uhtred you were excited to meet. Tales of his men reached Winchester as often as tales of Uhtred did. Of the young monk, the Irishman, and the Dane.

Aethelflaed knew that look, whenever Sihtric was mentioned. Despite you never having met him in person, you already seemed to have taken a shine to him.

“It is not Uhtred you are interested in though, is it?” Aethelflaed smiled, gently nudging your arm.

You sputtered out some protests, but your words were cut short when your father entered with your mother at his heel.

“Uhtred and his men will arrive shortly; I have asked for a meal to be prepared for him and his men. You are both to attend.” Alfred said softly, but sternly, both of you moving quickly to prepare yourselves to receive visitors.

A table had been set; your mother had made you knew exactly how to present yourself. Aelswith had particular feelings towards Uhtred, you knew that for certain. But she was still a Queen, and you still a princess. You had to present yourself with politeness and piety.

You sat between Aethelflaed and Edward as Uhtred and his men entered the hall, weapons already discarded it seemed. Alfred stood, greeting them and gesturing for them to sit.

Your eyes fell immediately to Sihtric as he sat across from you. The tattoo that ran from the side of his shaven head to his neck was the first thing to catch your eye as turned to speak to Uhtred.

Your sole focus was on the tattoo, so fascinated that you hadn’t even realised he was looking at you. What you weren’t prepared for was the way your stomach flipped when he smiled at you.

“Do you wish to know what it is, Lady?” he asked, gesturing to the very tattoo you had stared at.

Despite the sideways glance from your mother, you nodded. Sihtric was quick to flash you another smile, watching the small flush rise on your cheeks. He turned his head, running a finger from one end of the tattoo to the other.

“It might not look much like it, but it is the serpent Jörmungandr,” Sihtric explained, glancing at you as he spoke.

Your eyes following his finger, wide with intrigue. When he reached his neck, he could have sworn he saw your tongue lick at your lips ever so slightly.

“It is beautiful,” you whispered, just loud enough for Sihtric to hear over the chatter around the table.

Sihtric was about to speak, tell you it had nothing on your beauty, but he was interrupted when Uhtred asked him to pass over a plate of food. The Dane silently seethed, but the look Uhtred had given him was enough to make him remain silent.

The King’s daughter was off limits.

Uhtred and his men soon bid the King and his family goodnight. Despite himself, Sihtric’s eyes lingered on you. There was a gentleness, an innocence in you, that seemed to be pulling him in. Enticing him.

“Goodnight, Lady,” he smiled, taking your hand when your parents weren’t looking and pressing a gently kiss to the back of it.

You could have sworn you felt sparks run up your skin at the touch. The skin where he had kissed felt warm and your stomach felt fluttery. You didn’t understand it much, but it wasn’t a horrible feeling. You found yourself wanting to feel it again.

Sihtric was gone before you respond, your hand hanging a little in the air as you watched him, and his friends leave.

It was a few more days before Sihtric saw you again. A Witan had been called to discuss the matter of the new Dane threat and Uhtred had been summoned to attend. Sihtric and the others had been told to wait outside and his only thoughts were of you.

Did you attend the Witans with your father or were you ordered elsewhere like he was. Sihtric sat with his friends in the royal gardens, eyes trained on the large wooden doors as they awaited Uhtred’s return.

So, when they opened, the last person he expected to see exiting was you.

The three of them quickly stood as you reached them, earning a soft smile each.

“You do not need to do that, please.” You said sweetly, waving them back down to sit.

“Did you attend the Witan, my lady?” Sihtric asked, curiosity eating at him.

You sat down on a small stone bench, smoothing out the skirts of your dress.

“I did, it is one of the few things my father lets me do,” you voice was a little melancholy, as though the thought upset you.

Of all the things Alfred allowed you to do, attending Witans was a surprise even to you. Hearing of bloody battles, death, politics and deception was surely no worse than allowing you to spend more time in the city?

But he was your father and the King, you could hardly argue with him.

“One of few? What does your father not allow you to do?” Sihtric asked, his sole focus now on you.

The sigh you let out almost broke his heart, like the weight of the world was on your shoulders.

“I barely leave the palace walls. I can attend Witans, suppers and prayer but nothing more. I go to the city only if Edward of my father does…” You tried not to sound to self-centred in your words, there were far worse things happening to others, you wagered.

But seeing the same stone walls, the same people, all day everyday was nothing short of frustrating. All you wanted was one trip, one time past the walls of your home. To speak to new people, see new things.

Sihtric could hear the frustration, the sadness almost in your voice and he couldn’t help himself as he reached out to gently take your hand.

“I am sure your father is only concerned for your safety, Lady.” He said, giving your smaller hand a soft squeeze.

“But he allows Aethelflaed to do as she pleases, I do not understand it,” You sounded like a petulant child, you knew that, but it was the first time you had been able to vent your frustrations to someone who didn’t know much of them.

Sihtric felt for you. To never know anything further than your home, it was something he could sympathise with. As a child, Kjartan only let him out of their home when he was of use to him. He was never afforded the chance to simply explore and experience.

“If I knew the reasons of a man like Alfred, I would be a smarter man myself.” Sihtric replied, trying to lighten the mood.

And when you smiled, albeit reluctantly, he took that as a win.

“If I could just convince my father, to just once let me leave – with a chaperone if I must…”

But your words were cut off when the doors opened again, Uhtred exiting shortly followed by your father and brother.

Sihtric was quick to stand, both in respect to the King and to avoid being seen too close to you. He wasn’t about to risk things so quickly.

Alfred made his way to you, his hand on your arm soft but firm – a touch only a father seemed to have.

“My sweet girl, will you ask the kitchens to prepare a meal for Uhtred and his men tonight. They are to join us for supper.”

You nodded softly, glancing at each of them before leaving. You could feel Sihtric’s eyes on you, even without looking, and a heat rose on your skin. Sihtric’s mind however was elsewhere. Still concerning you, but of how he could help you. Maybe, just maybe, he could be the one to set you free.

Supper came and went, but you all remained around the table long after the plates had been cleared. Again, you had sat across from Sihtric, purposefully this time. There was something about him that put you at ease. From his soft, yet mischievous smile, to those bi-coloured eyes. So much about him was beautiful. You had never considered calling a man beautiful over handsome. But Sihtric truly was beautiful.

Every time he would look at you, your cheeks flushed, your stomach felt like it was filled with butterflies. You could barely contain the smile that would tug at your lips whenever he spoke to you.

When Uhtred and his men left, Aethelflaed pulled you to one side. Before you could even ask what was wrong, she began to whisper to you.

“I know you find him…Sihtric…pleasing, little sister, but be careful,” Aethelflaed whispered softly, her hand grabbing on to yours.

“Careful, I don’t understand?”

Aethelflaed sighed. That was exactly the problem.

“That’s the problem, you don’t understand it. You are so sweet, so innocent, sister.”

You squeezed Aethelflaed’s hand, an idea forming in your mind.

“Then explain it to me? If you are so concerned for me, make it so you are not.”

Aethelflaed shook her head, not saying she would not tell you, but it was more in exasperation. Of course that was what you would ask. She saw how you looked at Sihtric, she’d seen that look many times and had probably looked at men the same way herself.

She held both your hands now, a little tighter than before.

“You desire him, sister, the blush on your cheeks, the flutter in your stomach, that is all attraction and desire.”

You stammered a little in surprise. Desire? Was that what you felt? The way she was describing it…Sihtric was attractive, there was no doubt to it.

Sihtric laid in his bed at the inn, trying to figure out how he could help you. You were so sweet, so beautiful. And he so badly wanted to free you, to help you experience with everything you could.

But first, he had to get you on your own. Even for a moment, just to speak to you without interruption.

Sleep found him eventually, his last though being you.

That morning, you sat with Aethelflaed, watching your father talk to Uhtred and his men. You tried not to only look at Sihtric, but it was truly a challenge. Something about him simply drew you in.

And soon his eyes found you, stood at the wall by the entrance to the palace. The smile you gave him back, it made his heart stop for just a second. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way about a woman. Lust, desire, they were one thing.

You made him feel something else entirely. He craved the very thought of you, and he barely knew you. But he wanted to.

Whatever it took, he would make you his. All he needed was fate to be on his side.

The chapel was quiet as you prayed. It was one of few times you were granted true solitude. So, to hear the door open and footsteps behind you, surprised you. It seemed fate was on Sihtric’s side.

“Apologies for disturbing you, my lady.” Sihtric said softly, walking slowly up behind you.

You stood, setting down your prayer book down and turning to face the Dane.

“You are disturbing me, Sihtric.”

Sihtric had never thought his name had sounded sweeter than on your lips. You stood in front of him, and for the first time he had no idea what to say. His tongue felt heavy, and his mouth felt dry. He simply stared at you.

“Not often you see a Dane in a chapel,” you smiled, trying to break the tension.

You were in your comfort space; you were relaxed in here. And Sihtric’s silence gave you the chance to simply admire him. Up close, you could see the dual tones of his eyes. The air felt thicker around you the longer you stared.

“Is this one of the things you are allowed to do alone?” he asked, flashing you the smile you had grown to adore.

You nodded, chastising yourself for the flush in your cheeks.

“It is, there are few places safer than a chapel in my father’s eyes.”

Sihtric reached out softly, taking your hand as softly as he had the day you met him. He had so many things he wanted to say, but he had no idea where to start.

“But you want to do more, don’t you?” Sihtric asked, stroking a gentle circle on your palm with his thumb.

You nodded, the roughness of his skin distracting you from any coherent thought. Was Sihtric offering to help you?

“Leave the palace, see things, people?”

It was like your voice had left the second he touched your hand. To be so close to a man was already more than you ever experienced. But you needed to answer him.

“I have always wanted that, there is only so much of the same people I can take.”

Sihtric brought your hand to his lips. Now wasn’t to be the time to get you out of here. But to know you wanted it as much as he wanted to give it you. It gave him hope.

As his lips lingered on your skin, his eyes met yours.

“I will give you that, and more, my beautiful lady. I swear it to you.”

You didn’t see Sihtric again for a few days, word was he had followed Uhtred out of Winchester to collect information for Alfred about the new Dane lord. But his return was signalled when a servant brought a small bouquet of flowers to your rooms with a note attached to them. There was only one person you could possibly think would send such a gift.

My beautiful lady,

Though we have known each other only a short time, I have thought of nothing but you. I return to Winchester tonight and I would like to ask you something.

I want to be the one to help you experience life beyond the palace walls, as I promised. Alfred is to meet Uhtred at supper tonight, so he will be well occupied. Come to the small gardens near the chapel, and I will give you a taste of all the freedom you wish.

Sihtric

You immediately felt those butterflies return to your stomach, setting down the note as you brought the flowers up to your nose. The aroma was so sweet, like nothing you had smelled before. If you had to hazard a guess, you would have said they were some kind of wildflowers.

All you could think of now was his promise. A taste of all the freedom you wish. That had the opportunity for so many things. Your mind buzzed with everything it could mean, skin flushing when your thoughts delved down a more carnal path – though you knew next to nothing about that kind of thing. Physical pleasures were not a general topic of conversation in your family.

The ride back to Winchester wasn’t long, but for Sihtric now it felt like an eternity. They were not far from the city; the supposed new Dane warlord had been sighted barely a day’s ride from the city. But they had camped for three days in the hopes of seeing him, to no avail.

Now, he had never been more desperate to see the gates of the Saxon capital again. To see you. He hoped you got his note, that the flowers he had picked and sent a young Saxon boy back with – along with some coin in his palm – were beautiful enough for you.

Soon, the walls on Winchester were in sight. Uhtred headed immediately for the palace, Finan dragging Osferth to a nearby inn. None of them really noticed Sihtric disappearing, they all had their own ways of relaxing when they would return.

He waited in the gardens, the sky soon turning to night. He only hoped you would choose to meet him.

You had told only Aethelflaed where you were going, knowing your sister would help you however she could. The elder princess saw how you looked at Sihtric, there was no denying there was something between the two of you. She had been in your shoes once, and she wasn’t about to deny you the same feelings and experiences.

Aethelflaed made sure your mother was well distracted, asking her to join her in a room farthest from the chapel to pray and read. Edward was sat in on the supper with Alfred and Uhtred. You had a safe and quiet path down to where you would meet Sihtric.

Your heart hammered as you neared the gardens, you were sure it could beat out from your chest. Nervous fingers twirled your hair between your hands as you rounded the corner, breathing a sigh of relief when you saw the silhouette of Sihtric by a large tree.

“You came,” he said softly, as if half expecting you not to.

His hand reached out for you, a single flower between his fingers. The petals were a soft pink, and you took it with a matching blush on your cheeks.

“Of course I did,” you answered, inhaling the scent of the petals with a smile.

You noticed that, for the first time since you had met him, he was without his usual leather and furs. Just his dark undershirt and trousers, hammer pendant sitting bright against the fabric.

“Your note was lovely, and the flowers were beautiful,” you continued, letting the petals of the flower brush against your cheeks.

Sihtric watched you with a smile, the moonlight making you even more beautiful. Ethereal almost. A true princess, he thought. But hearing your words about his note made him glance down, embarrassed.

“I am ashamed to say the words were mine, but the writing was not, my lady,” he said sheepishly, earning him a sweet giggle in response.

“Then who wrote them, I should compliment their handwriting instead.”

The teasing tone in your voice made his heartbeat just a little faster. Everything about you was most unlike any woman he had ever met. And the words fell from his lips before he could stop them.

“I had Osferth put my words to parchment, though I promise you the words are truly mine.”

You hand reached out, daring to settle on his chest. You were sure you could feel the rhythm of his heart under the firm muscle. All for you, you realised.

“The words are what were beautiful, though I shall remember to praise my half-brother for his penmanship.”

Sihtric chuckled, both at the nonchalant way you named Osferth your brother – the first of the royal family he had heard do so – but also how easily the compliments of his words left your lips. Even in the short time he had known you, he knew enough to know you did not lie.

His hand came to rest atop yours on his chest, almost engulfing it.

“Do you wish for freedom, my sweet lady?” he asked, his other hand coming to tilt your chin to have you look at him.

Your breath caught in your throat the second you looked into his eyes. The blue and the brown even more beautiful in the dim light. All you could manage to do, was nod.

Sihtric leaned down, the closest he had ever been to you. Lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“There are many things I could show you, my lady, but there is one thing I think you and I both would like to start with.”

Your mind went blank the second his lips found yours. Soft yet dominating, his hand pressing yours to his chest as the other moved from your chin to your jaw. His lips pressed a little firmer now, pulling a soft whimper of pleasure from you.

When Sihtric pulled away, you chased his lips. Craving him now.

“Come with me, I want to make good on that promise.”

All your life you had lived within these walls, and you had never known such secrets existed. Small, hidden passages within the walls, covered by overgrown shrubbery. Sihtric explained how he had asked around the palace after he had met you in the chapel. Looking for anyway to give you what you so desperately wanted.

More coin pressed to the palm of a nearby innkeeper had secured a room, secluded from prying eyes. Ideal for sneaking a sheltered princess into.

“You are risking a lot for me, Sihtric…” you whispered as he closed the door behind you.

This was the furthest you had been from the palace without your father, brother or guards at your side. And even then, you were allowed to very specific places. A nearby nunnery for example. Places deemed ‘safe’ by your father.

To be even in just an inn was exhilarating.

“You are more than worth the risk, my lady,” he smiled, sitting down at the foot of the bed.

He could almost feel your nerves. The way your hands fiddled with the sleeves of your dress, your tongue darting out to constantly wet your lips. Every fibre of him wanted to put your at ease.

Sihtric stood, reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“And we will do nothing more than what you wish. Your comfort and happiness is my priority.”

His hand lingered on your cheek, and you felt that heat rise in your stomach again. Your mind returning to Aethelflaed’s words about desire.

“Anything with you is my happiness,” your face nuzzled into his hand as he spoke, seeking out more of his touch.

“I understand so little of things like this, of romance, desire…”

Sihtric could only smile at your words. Everything about you screamed innocence, yet he could see the twinkle of desire behind your eyes. You wanted something, but you had no idea how to express it.

So Sihtric gave you the words.

“I could teach you, sweet lady, if you would tell me what you wish to understand.”

Teach you? Did he truly mean it? Words seemed to fail you, but you wanted it more than anything, the fire in your stomach trailing down to your core.

“And if I wish to understand it all? Would you teach me everything?”

Sihtric had to bite back a groan at that. The innocence of your voice combined with the sultry connotation to your words. But he realised he would, in fact, give you everything he could and then some.

His own desire flowed through his veins, his length already throbbing against the fabric of his breeches. His precious princess. There was a part of him that wished to protect that innocence, the purity. Sihtric found it endearing. But the way you looked at him now, eyes darkened with desire and lust.

That was enough to convince him.

His lips found yours again, a little more force behind them this time. Your hands grasped at his shirt, holding him close to you. Barely an inch between your bodies now. Your nervousness was overrun by your need for him. Your skin felt like it was on fire, and you could feel a dampness in your smallclothes.

Sihtric walked back, sitting down on the bed and pulling you gently into his lap. You could feel him beneath you, hot and hard beneath the fabric of his breeches. And he could feel the little moment of confusion before you pressed yourself down against him.

“What you can feel, sweet lady, is my desire for you. A need that only you may sate…”

Sihtric pushed his hips up into you, relishing the whimper you let out. You responded by pressing your lips to his, his hands coming to rest on your waist as he helped you move your hips over his hardened length.

Your skirts were bunched around your hips, the only barriers between you both now being your smallclothes and his breeches. Sihtric’s lips were hungry, moving from your own and down your jaw. A heated path that made your hands grasp at him harder the lower he trailed them.

“Show me…”

That sweet voice of yours, now laden with desire had his cock throbbing. The damp heat of your arousal pressing against him was almost too much to bear. Sihtric’s fingers trailed down your thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake before they reached their destination.

His fingers circled your pearl, the fabric of your underwear adding a delicious amount of friction. Your hips chased his hand, his lips finding the juncture of your neck and shoulder. But his touch was gone too soon.

Sihtric smiled at you, helping you stand before turning to lay you back down on the bed. You could only stare as he reached back to remove his shirt. If you had thought him beautiful before, there were no words to describe how you felt about him now. Your hands instinctively reached out to him, and he was quick to comply.

Practiced hands tugged the laces of your dress open, his eyes trained on yours for any signs of hesitation. But when he found none, Sihtric was quick to tug your dress from your shoulders, urging you up to remove it completely.

His fingers made their path down between your thighs again, finding your pearl as his lips found the skin of your stomach and hips.

His name was the only word on your lips, a soft chant akin to a prayer.

But his name became a cry of pleasure as his tongue joined his fingers. Your hands came up to tangle in his dark locks as he began a slow, intoxicating rhythm between your folds.

“Sihtric…”

The sound had him groaning gently, the vibration sending a shiver up your spine and a rush of heat through your core. A gush of arousal coating his tongue as your walls began to pulse and clench.

He sped up a little, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he helped you fall closer and closer to release. Sihtric felt your thighs quivering either side of his head, and he knew it wouldn’t be long until you found your peak.

His attention turned to your pearl, circling it with the tip of tongue as he pressed a single digit between your soaked folds. Your hands were tight in his hair, your back arching from the bed. You didn’t understand the feeling that tugged at your insides. Like a band pulled tight and ready to snap.

Sihtric pulled his mouth back, letting his fingers work you to your release now.

“Does it feel good, my sweet lady?” Sihtric asked, pressing soft kisses to your stomach.

His answer was a keening cry of his name as you released around his fingers, hands now clawing at the sheets below as your peak washed over you. Sihtric slowed his rhythm as your inner muscles began to relax.

He crawled up your body, leaning over you and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He could feel your body relax and your breathing slow.

“Good…it was more than good…”

Sihtric smiled against you, pressing kisses down your nose until he reached your lips. You had never felt pleasure like it before. You had never felt pleasure before, ever.

“Do you wish to feel more?”

He knew there was serious risk in bedding you, the King’s daughter. But he wasn’t pursuing you out of pure lust and selfish desire. He adored you. Sihtric had realised it the moment he left Winchester for those few days.

He had missed your presence, as infrequent as it was. He had missed your smile, your voice, your laugh. The feel of your skin when he kissed your hand. He had missed every single thing about you. If that wasn’t love, he didn’t know what was.

“More? Sihtric, I wish for all of you.”

That was all he needed; his lips pressed hard against yours before he sat back to remove the last piece of his clothes. You could feel the hard length of him against your body as he leaned back of you, and a bout of nervousness washed over you.

“I will go slow, my love,” he whispered, knowing the pain you would feel before the pleasure.

You only nodded, watching as he settled himself between your thighs and lined his cock up at your entrance. Sihtric leaned forward, capturing your lips as he pressed himself forward, feeling the stretch and resistance of your walls as your body tried to accommodate him.

He could feel you tense beneath him, hands grasping at his shoulders as your eyes squeezed shut.

“I’m sorry, my sweet lady, it won’t hurt for long…”

Sihtric was ready to stop, panic setting in when your face remained contorted in pain. But you simply nodded, urging him to keep going.

“It’s alright, I want it...please...” your voice was strained, but you needed to feel him, all of him.

Sihtric pressed on, slowly but surely sheathing himself entirely inside you. You could feel the thin barrier of your maidenhood break, and the pleasure that came after made it all feel worth it.

His rhythm was slow, watching your face for any more signs of discomfort. But when he found none, when your hands moved from his shoulders to his hair, he knew you were in the full throes of pleasure.

“My beautiful lady,” Sihtric groaned, his hips speeding up slowly as he buried his face in your neck.

A hand grasped your thigh, hooking it around his waist as he began a deeper, faster rhythm. He could already feel your walls clenching around him again, tugging him deeper. Your back arching off the bed when he began to push and press against the sweet spot deep inside you. Your moans almost breathless as you reached your second peak.

Sihtric wasn’t far behind, his hand taking yours, pinning it above your head as he grunted out his release. Your name was the last word on his lips as your tight walls milked his cock dry.

His hips slowed, your hands moving from his hair to his back as he came to a stop. Your lips kissed over his jaw and up to his lips. Slower this time, but still filled with as much love and passion.

“I love you, Sihtric. Those are the only words that can describe how I feel for you,” your voice was so soft, and the words were music to his ears.

He rolled to the side, pulling to his chest. Those three words were enough to have him internally vowing to himself – to make you his, King’s daughter or not.

“I love you too, my sweet, beautiful lady.”

Sihtric/TLK taglist:

@legitalicat @foxyanon @thenameswinter99 @multyfangirl

@sihtricsafin @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @alexagirlie @gemini-mama

(If you want to be added/deleted, let me know)

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Cross-Guild Masterlist

Navigation Masterlist Here

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Buggy D. Clown:

You Kissed the Clown? (15/15 Series)

An upper-class tinkerer finds herself amongst the crew of the Staw-Hat pirates. Falling within the blast of a giant flash of red smoke and captured with her crew in the claws of the Buggy Pirates; she is confronted by her flight, fight and freeze response. Immediately, she finds another way of distracting the infamous clown-captain: a passionate and disarming kiss. As time and distance fall between them, feelings of romance, infatuation, fascination and longing cling to the clown and the tinkerer in each other's absence. How could they feel so deeply for each other; they only shared one single kiss?

Happy Birthday, Pumpkin (one-shot)

Buggy longs to kiss you but always shies away in case his affection is not reciprocated. Finally, an opportunity presents itself for a consequence-free kiss and he can barely hold himself back in anticipation. Happy birthday!

I Can't Do This Without You (one-shot)(smut)

Buggy attempted to use some unusual, waxy pollen to form into a "buggy-ball". He was an idiot. He can't manage the consequences without his loyal and ever faithful crewmate to help him out.

A Small Kindness (Smut One-Shot)

A blue-haired man with a round red nose is down on his luck. He's lost everything, not a single berry to his name after being defeated again by the straw-hat crew. A small kindness from a stranger propels him to get back on his feet. How could he repay you? Surely you needed something in return.

Headcanons & Drabbles:

Soft-Dom BuggyBratty BuggyCross-Guild InterrogationThe Clown Apologises

Buggy x Reader x Mihawk:

Swing, Sway, Shag, Smimmy (Buggy x Reader x Mihawk) (4/4)

Buggy is infatuated with his prized acrobat. He issues a dance night-off for his pirate crew, choosing to "make a move" in the hopes of charming his beautiful acrobat under the hawk-like gaze of his guest of honour. Unbeknownst to Buggy, the feeling of infatuation is mutual regarding the acrobat. Can they learn to 'play nice' to woo the acrobat? Yes, yes they can.

Dracule Mihawk:

The Apprentice (6/7 Series)

Mihawk is a bitchy boss, the apprentice is his bratty underling. Professionalism, sword-mastery and affiliation for wine consumption drives their relationship.Mihawk pushed his apprentice a little too far, prompting her to submit a formal resignation effective immediately. Calling her bluff, he attempts to chaperone her towards a cellar door to begin an afternoon of wine-tasting, only to find absence at his side as his apprentice simply walked away from him. And he was angry about it.Ongoing series.

You Should Be Sad (Completed Series):

Upon rising to the title of Warlord and Worlds-Greatest-Swordsman, Dracule Mihawk began to neglect his fiancé and her desires. Unable to provide her with the one thing she truly longed for, he remained apathetic as she broke from their lengthy courtship.A decade later, and many a bottle of brandy relinquished, he drifts to Baratie in hopes of drowning away the memory of her: only to have his hopes shattered as the hired band begins to play with his ex-fiancé singing her vengeance at him.

Let Me Take Care of You (one-shot)

The personal assistant to Dracule Mihawk notices he is not quite acting himself: a small wince as he reaches for his breakfast wine glass, a grimace as he draws it to his lips and the narrowing of his eyes as he begins to slouch. Luckily for the both of them, the assistant has a resume of many a skill: remedial massage being the key element provided to the broody warlord. He reluctantly accepts their touch, longing for the burden to be released from his shoulders.

El Tango de Mihawk (one-shot)

A talented thief manages to obtain an invite to the marine ball and decides to utilize it as a great opportunity to steal from the wealthiest members of the world government. Mihawk immediately recognizes them and decides to toy with their scheming, tango dancing ensues.

The Marine's Mistake (request) (one-shot)

Something horrible occurred to rid the warlord of his signature facial hair. Cadets had gathered and began whispering in hushed tones as Garp held a seated meeting with the warlord at a table in a run of the mill tavern. A new transfer does not recognize the sleek cheeks of the handsome gentlemen and immediately decides to approach to flirtatiously engage him over a drink or two. Mihawk is amused.

My Love Mine All Mine (request) (one-shot)

Mihawk returns to his castle in kuraigana nine days after he was due to return. He finds his lover sleeping in his bed, face falling to rest atop his pillow. Soft drabble, pining, longing.

Hanahaki: The Hawk and the Fledgling (request) (one-shot) Part 2

Mihawk notices his Fledgling, an apprentice he took under his wing, has become lazy in their training. Upon one final vocal reprimand, they collapse; sputtering a cocktail of saliva, blood and... petals? Is that petals in their hand? Surely not.

The Spear and the Sword (request) (one shot)

Drabble Part 2

Mihawk is required by Vice-Admiral Garp to obliterate an approaching armada of barbaric pillagers from their attack on a marine base. As this army was not enough for him to handle alone, Garp calls in another warlord, a ferocious warrior-woman armed with a spear, to aid in his ability to complete this task with as much succession as possible with as little damage done to the defenseless base. Both begin their armed ascension, showcasing their abilities in contest to see how many troops they best by the end of battle, against how many injuries they themselves acquire in the thralls of combat.

Little Sparrow (one-shot: drabble)

Mihawk has been up with your daughter, soothing her as she experiences her leap weeks. You spend some moments with your husband as he holds her in his arms.

Sapsorrow: (9/10 Series)

Upon receiving an invitation from the lord of Kuraigana to train his wards, you never expected your career as a governess to lead you here. As your tour of the keep was conducted, a ring was slipped onto your finger: invoking an ancient curse you truly did not understand. Setting three conditions for marriage, your newly betrothed immediately made haste to complete them with you blissfully ignorant that his life hung in the balance should be fail his task.

Macule Drihawk (drabble)

When Dracule Mihawk drinks, he becomes an entirely different person. That person's name is Macule Drihawk.

Pretty Bird (series)

Mihawk is an injured avarial trapped in his raven form while healing. You nurse him back to health, and he becomes smitten with you.

Obsession (one-shot)

Many believe Mihawk keeps the knowledge of his spouse a secret because he is a private man. Truth of it is, he is simply obsessed with you and doesn't believe any other pair of eyes is worthy of meeting their gaze with your majesty.

Happy Trail (mini fic)

Mihawk is not as well groomed as he usually keeps himself. You notice, and you can't help yourself.

Sir Crocodile:

My Favorite (Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Sir Crocodile has founded a league of highly trained assassins named "The Choirs" - all coded after the nine choirs of angelic influences. You are his favorite: his prized "Seraphim" who's ferocious brutality is only outmatched by your incredible beauty. Not truly knowing if your affection is all an act to continue being paid a wage in berry, he has not made a move of his own aside from calling upon you to sit on his knee of an evening, and have you utter praises into his ear. It is only when the two other members of the Cross-Guild begin flirting does he find his limit being tested. Will he bend, or will he break?

Sands of Time: Intentions of Series

Sir Crocodile thought he was safe from the intentions of the haunting Sapsorrow Queen. His soul has been laid claim, his time is running out. How can he have a stranger fall in love with his within the year? Would she truly take his sould should he fail?

When We Wake (one-shot)

Blissfully waking within the arms of your lover, you are both struck with the thoughts of how precious you have become to one another. Whispering confessions of adoration to one another while the other slumbers, you are both completely overcome with such deep devotion.

The Duality of Sir Crocodile (NSFW drabble)

The duality of a dominating gentleman. Spoiling and endearing, encumbering and brutal.

Warmth (One-Shot)

Misc Multiples:

Sir Crocodile is out for a walk in Arabasta with his pug, and he is stopped by a curious child who desires to pet them. As you, their guardian, approaches, Sir Crocodile is intrigued by your candor.

Intimacy (NSFW One-Shot)

Sir Crocodile is patient while you take him for the first time.

Get Well Soon (Drabble one-shot)

You're sick, and they do their best to support you through it. Zoro, Sanji, Mihawk

Please, I'll be good (one-shot)

After rescuing you in the heat of battle, he can no longer contain his desires for you. He was so good. He can keep being good if it means you'll keep kissing him.

Koby, Sanji, Corazon, Sabo, Buggy, Shachi, Ace, Penguin

How They Kiss (drabble)

Four different kisses with all of your favourites. Where would you place them in these categories?

Hallmark Piggyback (drabble)

Short piggyback on @indydonuts post about OP characters in a hallmark movie. Drabble is for Law x reader x Mihawk - amnesia trope

You're Angry at the Tall Men: Drabble (One-Shot)

He knows what he did to earn your wrath; your fury ignited in your eyes and the flames physically tangible and searing the room with your scorn. Your brow was furrowed, your lips curling into a snarl to bare your pearled teeth at him.Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Corazon, Doflamingo.

An Affectionate Embrace: Drabble (One-Shot)

It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind?Buggy, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Shanks, Benn Beckman

Forehead Kisses (short drabble)

You're being a brat because they're neglecting you. Prepare to be greeted with the forehead kiss you crave from them.

Zoro, Crocodile, Kid, Killer, Beckman, Mihawk

Interrogation (crack dialogue)

Cross-Guild crack dialogue x reader

Dreaming of You (One-Shot) NSFW

They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Sir Crocodile, Buggy, Dracule Mihawk

[whereserpentswalk]

Like to give your creature a pat on the head. Reblog to get them to come to you. Tag your friends to increase their power. Look under the cut to see what it's like to meet your creature.

The vampire: She first comes to you as a shadow entering your room but takes fleshy form as she comes to the seat of your bed, wearing men's clothes from centuries ago. Though she is not of this world anymore you can tell that she once was human, even if such humanity is long forgotten. Her mouth shifts, from something massive and monstrous, with many fangs and moving parts, to something more humanoid, though still with sharp steel fangs in place of teeth. She sings to you and old forgotten song, of gods only spoken about by humans in taboo whispers, and fleshes you look of her ever-young bright red eyes. You begin to harmonize, your voices meeting as equals, as she begins to rest on your lap, and let herself be pet like a cat. You feel the shape of her body, it's so cold. She begs for your blood in song, and you give it to her as you pet her head, her mouth opens up to its monstrous size again, but she's so loyal and submissive as she drinks from your hand, like a bird eating right out of your palm.

The ghost: The room fills with red, as red and a blood moon, and red as a fresh beating heart. Spirits rise and you see something ancient lash towards you, hir hands like a mantis's claws, hir face like a skull yet featureless save for two dark eyes, hir red body covered in bug like limbs and tentacles and shimming egg cases. Sie turns hir head to look at you and sie rushes at you like a deadly predator but passes through you, eldritch ghostly wires wrapping around hir like chains to pull hir back to you as sie bows, defeated, begging with only a look not to be banished. You're not sure if sie is terrifying, pathetic, or honorable, but as you put your hand out sie seems somewhat honored to be allowed to stand up. You wonder what sie's thinking but you don't think to ask, it's only barely dawned on you that such an inhuman creature has a mind like yours, that sie is sentient, that hir race was much like yours when they were still alive. You just look at each other for a good amount of time, not sure who is more powerful.

The angel: They first come to you in an empty subway station, the ruins on the ground barely keeping you safe from them. Yet they look forlorn, like they would not have the energy to hurt you. Their form is pale and ghostly, white and colorless, the only mark of brightness being the blood that stains their hands, and wings. Chains weight down their slender body, as a veil hides their face. For a small moment they spread their six great wings, showing you their true size and power even in their cursed state. Eye sockets open for you for a brief moment, all over their body, all of them empty. Terrifying as they are none would deny that they are in great pain. You reach your hand out and gently whisper "it's ok" as they slow down and look at you as if they have not seen such sympathy from a creature in a long time. They extend a hand for you to hold, and you grab it, pet it for a slight moment, and you can feel a long dead fire seep through your veins. "It's ok." "It's ok."

The faceless woman: Deep beyond the city limits, where no light shines save for the stars, you see her, spiderwebs and shadows her friends, and faeries and dead gods her masters. She looks like a human at first, tall and long haired, in a ragged suit that covers her flesh. But then you see her head, and where her face could have been there is only a black pick, a hole that no normal human could survive to have. It looks at first like the void is of pure darkness, but inside it you have catch a glimpse of countless teeth like a lamprey's. She seems to laugh though she has no mouth, amused that a human would think to approach her, but you approach her even more, wondering what she even is. She suddenly gets excited as she sees something in your eyes, sees that you won't back down. You offer her some raw meat, a sign of good will, as you put it in her hands, she consumes it by causing it to melt into dust in her hands. She looks at you, as an ally, an accomplice, if she could, she would have smiled.

Paladin: She stands before you, bowing strangely, so submissively, though she's so obviously strong enough to rip you apart. It's strange to think this creature is actually in your room, that she's actually yours, that she was once a human like you. You can see where the plate and chain is fused to her neck, her hands eternally attached to her sword and flintlock, her eyes looking up at you wish a strange sadness. There's blood on her face and hair that will never wash out. As you come closer she seems afraid of you, like you could ruin her in ways that she could never hope to ruin you, despite her power and prowess. You ask if you can pet her head and she nods, you aren't sure yet if she could speak to you if she wanted. When you so gently pet and stroke her face and hair, she seems so happy, so happy to have someone treat her in such a way. You tell her that she's doing well, that she did a good job, it seems like she needed to hear that.

Autumn faerie: He looks down at you from the tome that he walked out of the world around them blackened until he's all that you're able to see. A smiling mask rests on his face, and far more cover his body, the only clothing on his strange body, almost human, almost extremely not human, bright wings sprouting from the flesh of his back. He looks at you, studying you, like he already knows so much about you but now he finally gets to see you. Is he impressed? He at the very least seems as if he's satisfied. He hands you a mask, you don't know how, but it looks like you, not literally, it looks more like an animal then a human, but it looks like your true face, like just as you summoned and bound him with his true name, he gets this from you in his return. You put on the mask, the deal is signed at it rings with pleasure, you'll never be the same again.

Harpy: You first see zir on a fire escape, the lights of the buildings around zir shining like stars against the starless night sky. You can only see zir eyes at first, shining gold against the darkness of zir body. But you call zir into your apartment with a forgotten tongue and watch a ze lands near you, so very alien but so very close. Zir body is marked by feathered wings, and zir form are like a bird's from the waist down, blue and white and gold as if they were painted, you can tell zir body was crafted directly by the gods themselves. You call upon zir with a song long forgotten and wondered what the look in zir eyes means. Though ze is beautiful ze has taken lives, and though ze is humanlike in some regards to zir shape, zir movements are so alien. You let zir carry you, and it feels strangely good to be held, and let zir fly with you, above the city streets, looking down at things most will never see, at birds and clouds flying past you, and at the world below, so many people, and somehow you feel safe with the wind rushing past your hair.

Incubus: You see him, sitting in an empty office building. His humanoid form is slender and short and more pretty than he is handsome, the only reason you think of him as male being his flat chest. You can he's now human from the raven's wings and scorpion's tail on his back, the branching horns and snakes for hair on his head, his sharp teeth and the stars shaped pupils. The clothing he wears is loose and comfortable, as if it was chosen in a state of depression. You expected more confidence when you summoned him. He backs away from you afraid, afraid of what you'll do to him. It looks like monster hunters got to him before you had a chance to, he's lucky to even be alive. You set out some rat's souls for him to eat so he'll trust you more, and you assure him that it's ok, that he's safe. He starts crying a bit as he looks at you, and after he finishes eating you offer to hug him. He lets you and you feel his body be surrounded by your arms. He's afraid but enjoying the affection so much as you assure him again that you won't hurt him.

Golem: They sit by you in abandoned mall, displaying so much power as they move steel pipes to the side to get closer to you. Their strength mired by the way even the smallest rip seems to be something them need to avoid. You look at them, their body so perfectly created, like human sized origami, the letter of life on their head being the only thing that marks their pure white paper body. You ask them to follow you, but they won't follow, a single puddle blocks their path, no obstacle for you, but even a being of their power has weaknesses. You slowly clear it, putting objects you can find over the puddle until finally they can follow you out into the light, still afraid of the sky you hand them an umbrella, just in case...

Undead: You first see him in a dark alleyway that the sun cannot meet him in. You wonder how many dimensions he's been to, how many dimensions he's been from, before he got here. He looks at you with three eyes of different colors. Skin stitched together across him, of different colors and textures and levels of rot, clothing resting on him from several different lives. He chatters, first in one voice asking where he is, where he could be. Then another voice questions you, wondering who you are, why you'd want to see him. Another voice looks at his own face in a piece of shattered glass and screams in terror. For a moment you think he'd attack, you're not sure if the spell would protect you. But he doesn't, he just looks at you for a while, confused perhaps. You ask him if he wants to follow you, and he seems to. Within his storm of countless voices, he decides to ask you, almost with all at once, "who am I." After thinking for a while you decide to answer, "You're you."

Demon: You stand in a closed down amusement part, the sea beside you shining like in the moonlight as he rises out of the water. He's massive; larger than you expected. His body a pale white as he rises out of the newly boiling water, his three heads eat long and sharp toothed like an alligator's, his eyes as red freshly cut meat, seven tattered wings on his back expanding to nearly cover the sky. He laughs, you're not sure how sadistic or how genuine it is considering the unreadable expressions of his reptilian heads. He charges at you with his teeth gnashing and blood pouring out of each of his mouths. But the spell blocks him like a shield made out of the air. As he fails to attack you more, he becomes frustrated, then tired, and rests on a rollercoaster. He seems to respect you knowing you were able to bind him like that, and regardless of if he likes it or not, he's yours now.

Shapeshifter: She slowly walks towards you out from the tunnel, she experiments with forms to see how you react; a small white kitten, a robotic humanoid woman, a long-haired demoness, a woman made out of blue slime. You can tell she's seen a lot of creatures before, that you're not her first master, she's known vampires, and werewolves, and demons in her time. It doesn't seem like many of them have been kind to her. You call to her and bring her closer with your magic. Slowly you watch her, you just wait as she changes her form, getting more experimental with the bodies she's willing to take. You just look at her, letting her be herself, letting her show you her art. Eventually she settles on something that feels like herself, something that she can be comfortable following you home with.

[hannahbarberra162]

The Crocodile's Gambit (Croc x Reader)

on Ao3

The Crocodile’s Gambit  (1/2)

Croc x F!Reader

Fluff in this chapter, angst and fluff in the next.

WC: 3.3k

Summary: Crocodile needs a chess partner before he impales Buggy out of frustration. Again. He finds one in a most unlikely place. Set after the abolition of the Warlord system, right before Cross Guild is formed.

~~~

There were a few things that Crocodile missed about Nico Robin. The first being, she was incredibly competent. When Crocodile hired someone, he assumed they could do their job without being told how to do it. He didn’t want to have to micromanage anyone, especially grown adults. He loathed having to check in and make sure every step of a process was done correctly. He’d never had to do that with Robin, she was smart and capable. Anything he assigned her, she executed flawlessly.

But what he missed more than her competence was her chess playing ability. She was the only opponent within Baroque Works who had ever won against him. Her success rate was about 15%, which was significantly higher than anyone else Crocodile had played in years. Crocodile enjoyed winning chess matches but even more than that, he enjoyed losing them. He loved the challenge, the strategy, the simplicity, the complexity, everything about chess. And he especially loved it when he found someone who could best him.

Which made his stay with the complete idiot Buggy all the more intolerable. He and Mihawk were meeting with the Clown to determine whether a joint venture would be viable. After the absolution of the Warlord system, Crocodile had approached Mihawk for a business proposal. Crocodile had connections, money, and business acumen but didn’t like the spotlight. Mihawk had power and the reputation of the World’s Greatest Swordsman. Together, they could become unstoppable. Then, the question of the Clown arose. Buggy owed Crocodile a lot of money, Crocodile was ready to kill the Clown and be done with his foolishness completely. However, something the Clown had that neither of them did was a large loyal following. For whatever reason, the Clown’s crew were loyal to the death for their Captain. Any time the Clown docked his garish ship, he was greeted with fanfare and celebrations. There were waiting lists with hundreds of applicants, all waiting for a chance to be on Buggy’s crew. Crocodile didn’t understand why, but people were charmed by the Clown’s charisma.

Crocodile and Mihawk had been in negotiations with the Clown for a few days. It was slow going - each iteration of an alliance between the three of them had many stipulations and conditions that had to be discussed. Crocodile was fairly certain the venture would fail and he’d kill the Clown, but he kept his options open. After all, a dead Clown made no money at all. 

Crocodile was in desperate need of a good chess opponent, he felt his stress rising by the minute. Unfortunately, he knew he wasn’t going to find someone within the Clown’s ridiculous crew of idiots and low-lifes. Mihawk was a decent chess opponent, but the swordsman was rarely in the mood to play. Business dealings with the Clown left both of them irritated, and Mihawk’s outlet wasn’t chess. Each of them had their own room and office on Buggy’s ship, and Crocodile had his chess set sitting out at all times in his office, just like at home. He tried reviewing games he’d played against other opponents and playing against himself, but none of it was as entertaining as playing against another person. One morning before his meetings began, he moved a white pawn to an opening position on the board. He left for the meeting and forgot about chess for a few hours as he dealt with the Clown’s buffoonery and Mihawk’s recalcitrance. 

Returning to his office for an after lunch break, he was about to read the newspaper when he noticed someone had moved black, opposing his white pawn at e5. It had to be someone on the ship, but who? Mihawk had been with him in the meeting. Daz wasn’t a good player, he hadn’t played with Croc in years. No one from Buggy’s crew was smart enough, and Crocodile hadn’t brought anyone but Daz. Crocodile wasn’t concerned about someone infiltrating his office, but he was concerned about his growing boredom and irritation. If he didn’t find a good opponent soon, he’d probably kill the Clown before it was advisable. He decided to play the opening to the King’s Gambit, moving his pawn to f4, next to the first. Once it was time to leave for the next meeting, he knew whoever had moved the black pawn wouldn’t last more than 5 moves against him.

He was wrong. It was Crocodile who was now outclassed, outplayed, and outmaneuvered. Crocodile played delayed games against the mystery person as his meetings continued and hadn’t won a single match. Crocodile hadn’t lost this many games in decades, and he couldn’t have been happier. Crocodile returned back to his office after every meeting, eager to see his opponent’s next move. His opponent was ruthless, seeing through his plays, gambits, and traps with ease. He skewered Crocodile time and time again, to Crocodile’s delight. Every time he lost, Crocodile placed a gold coin under the black King, which was taken and the board reset the next time Crocodile returned. Crocodile wanted to know who he was playing with, but he was never able to catch the man in action, his office always empty when he returned.

Even though the negotiations were not going well, Crocodile was now having a wonderful time. He didn’t want the venture to end, he wanted to continue playing chess against his opponent. The Clown had noticed the uptick in Crocodile’s mood, asking for more ridiculous clauses in their contracts. It hadn’t helped the negotiations, but Crocodile hadn’t killed the Clown outright yet, which was saying something. Unfortunately, the time for reconciliation was coming to a close. Crocodile wanted to find out who the mystery opponent was and soon. He wanted to shake the hand of the man who had bested Crocodile so thoroughly and offer him a spot on his crew.

So Crocodile waited outside his office before his morning meeting. He wasn’t hiding, that would be childish. He was simply waiting in a concealed location to resolve an issue he was having. True, he could have waited in his office to see who the man was, but that would ruin the fun. And Crocodile hadn’t had fun in years. He would be late for the meeting, but it wasn’t going to be productive anyway, negotiations had stalled. The morning crew was coming in to clean his office - Buggy had a lot of useless staff (and a lot of overhead expenses) but Crocodile appreciated coming back to a clean office daily. He hadn’t really noticed them before, they were all part of the background for Crocodile. They were dressed like all of the other pirates who worked for the Clown - in ugly, lurid circus clothing. The various cleaners split off to their areas, with you entering his office to clean. You wiped down various surfaces, until you got to the board with Crocodile’s most recent move. You studied it for a brief moment, then picked up a black knight.

“What the fuck are you doing woman?” Crocodile recognized Daz’s voice. He must have been passing by, looking for Crocodile.

“Cleaning,” you replied, irritated by the interruption. You put the piece back down where it was previously, to Crocodile’s disappointment.

“Didn’t look like cleaning to me. Leave the Boss’s chess set alone unless you want trouble.” The maid was unconcerned by the threat, rolling her eyes at Daz’s words. 

“Game’s over anyway, doesn’t matter,” you muttered. Crocodile’s interest was piqued, was this slip of a woman his opponent? He watched you flip off Daz behind his back as he walked away. You bustled around the office, cleaning once more. As he watched, thinking you may be his opponent, he appreciated your form. You were graceful in your movements and meticulous in your work, and he found you beautiful in an unconventional way. The more Crocodile watched you, the more he realized how attractive you were. The hideous circus clothes you wore didn’t help, you had a huge orange scarf wrapped around your neck. But he saw your immense potential if you wore something less…flashy.  It didn’t take you long to finish cleaning, and before you left the room, you moved the black knight, putting Crocodile in checkmate. Crocodile ran his hand through his hair, smiling wickedly.

~~~

After his next meeting, Crocodile cleared his schedule for the rest of the day. He didn’t really care about anything the Clown had to say right now. He was far too interested in his little chess opponent to bother with anything else. He sat in a plush armchair, smoking a cigar, waiting for the time the cleaning crew came in. Around lunch time, you carried your cleaning supplies into the room. You immediately noticed Crocodile sitting in his chair and you started to back out of the room.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll come back -” 

“You’ll sit down,” Crocodile intoned, blowing billowing smoke clouds into the room. He gestured to the board in front of him. “Do you know how to play chess?” he asked. He knew you did, he was just curious what you’d say. You were a confident, aggressive chess player, and he wanted to see if that crossed over into your regular personality.

“I do, but I have to -”

“You’re dismissed from your duties for now. Sit. I won’t ask again.” You were a little nervous, but set down your cleaning supplies and sat across from him on another comfortable armchair. You perched on the end of the chair, like you were getting ready to run at a moment’s notice, fiddling with your scarf. Crocodile switched the board, you were now white.

“Go ahead. Start,” he drawled at you, blowing smoke. Your eyes flicked from the board to Crocodile, wary of the situation. Things weren’t completely genial between Crocodile and your Captain, surely you felt the tension on the ship. But you played, moving your pawn to f4. Crocodile parried, moving his pawn to e5, countering your opening. You played your turn, and by the time 15 minutes were up, Crocodile was in checkmate again. 

“Checkmate,” you said, leaning forward to stand up. Maybe you wanted to get back to work or maybe you wanted to get away from Crocodile, but neither was going to happen.

“You’re not dismissed,” Crocodile growled, steepling his hand against his hook, pleased with the match. “So, it’s you. You’re my opponent. You’re quite skilled at chess,” Crocodile observed.

“Yeah, it’s me. Do you want your coins back or something?” you replied. You were a little rough around the edges, Crocodile thought, but he could fix that. When you joined his crew, he’d work on your social skills outside of the chess board.

“No, you may keep them, you won them. I would like to make a proposition. I want to play chess with you tonight in the evening. Three games. If you win two out of three, you get 100,000 Beri.” Ideally, you’d play chess with him all day every day, but he would take things one step at a time. 

You narrowed your eyes, fiddling with your scarf. “What if I lose?” 

Crocodile leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. He spread his hands magnanimously, like he was granting you a favor. “If you lose, you have to join my crew and leave the Clown.”

You pursed your lips, thinking over his deal. “200,000 Beri,” you bartered. Crocodile smiled, enjoying your evident self confidence. 

“150,000 Beri per night, 50,000 Beri bonus if you win all three rounds,” he countered. You agreed, shaking his hook with your hand. You were either self assured in your ability to win, or didn’t mind leaving the Clown. Either way, you’d be coming with him when he left.

~~~

Crocodile was down 1,000,000 Beri and no closer to getting you on his crew. He knew you were good, but he hadn’t anticipated you were that good. Crocodile loathed losing money, but in this instance, he didn’t mind handing it over night after night. He thought that playing face to face would increase his chances of winning, but that wasn’t the case. You were even sharper when playing with him in person rather than delayed over the course of hours and days. You were a good sport about winning, and you didn’t gloat. You also took the time to explain your thinking when Crocodile asked you about your thought processes. You did, however, have a crass mouth that Crocodile didn’t care for. 

“Sucks to suck,” you replied after Crocodile complained you ended a game too swiftly for his liking.

“Do not speak to your superiors that way,” Crocodile snapped. He was peevish after having lost three games in under an hour.

“If you’re my superior, why do I keep collecting your Beri?” you said impishly. Crocodile nearly smiled at your antics.

“Speaking in such a coarse manner makes you seem less intelligent than you truly are,” Crocodile stated. He hated to see you present yourself like the common boors that made up the rest of the Clown’s crew. You gave him a bored look. 

“Give me my pieces and I’ll play you again,” you said. Crocodile was interested in playing a fourth round against you but knew you were trying to change the subject. He picked up your knight he had taken and held it out to you in his hand. You reached for the piece but he closed his hand before you could retrieve it.

“Hand me my pieces, please,” he said. 

“Hand me my pieces, please, Sir Crocodile.” You rolled your eyes, but dutifully repeated the phrase. Crocodile smiled at you, and opened his hand once more. You took the knight, your fingers brushing against his palm. It was the first time you’d made physical contact with each other. Crocodile wanted more. 

You didn’t let Crocodile win or handicap yourself when you faced off, you always played to win. So when Crocodile won his first game, he was over the moon. He was certain you were tired when he’d won, you almost nodded off once during the game. Crocodile was concerned for your wellbeing, and it tarnished his feeling of victory. He was…worried.

“Is the Clown working you too hard? Why are you so tired?” Crocodile queried as you yawned into your hand.

“Someone is making me play chess at night after work,” you replied.

“Please, you’ve been making more than you’d earn in a month in under an hour,” Crocodile scoffed. The games between you didn’t take that long, the Clown must be putting undue stress on you. He’d…fix that for you. You hummed, resetting the board for the third game. Crocodile had enjoyed winning, but didn’t want to play if you weren’t at your best. “Let’s end early tonight. Go rest.”

You looked up at him, unsure of what to do. “But it’s only been two games, and I lost one. If I lose the next one -”

“It is my idea to conclude early, therefore you will not be bound to the usual rules. Go to bed.” Crocodile waved his hand, dismissing you. 

“Thank you, Crocodile,” you said softly, lingering by the door for a moment. It was the first time you’d thanked him without his prompting.

As the days went on, you seemed to enjoy Crocodile’s company a little bit, not bolting immediately after he paid you your Beri. You had a keen wit and were able to counter Crocodile’s acerbic remarks with ease. It was obvious to Crocodile early on in your conversations that you were not well read, something else Crocodile wanted to amend. Crocodile loaned you a book about ancient Wano battle theory, asking you to read it as it would improve your chess playing. You returned it the next day, saying you read the entire work. Crocodile questioned you about the contents of the book, trying to see if you had just skimmed it or were lying. But you were able to answer his questions and provide your own insight into the strategies listed.

“What did you think about the treatise on aggressive methods of battle?” Crocodile asked. He had found a lot of useful thought exercises in the book. Having read it in his youth, it had become a cornerstone for his own strategy in becoming a Warlord and businessman. 

“In chess? I don’t necessarily agree that aggression should be the foremost method of attack. Aggressive moves only work if it's balanced with knowledge of your opponent. If you don’t know who you’re dealing with, things may not work out the way you planned,” you said while moving your Queen to check Crocodile. Crocodile hummed in agreement. You were clearly intelligent, Crocodile just had to provide you with direction. He knew people were not given the same opportunities in life and was happy to supply you with some. 

To that end, Crocodile was now taking an interest in your formal education. He loaned you book after book, and you read them all, sharing your opinions and thoughts on the titles. You had interesting ideas, and Crocodile found himself sharing his own with you. You tended to like mysteries and fiction novels, but read anything Crocodile lent you. You picked up and assimilated new information easily and had unique ideas, things Crocodile would never have thought about on his own. Crocodile found himself sharing his favorite books with you, just to see what you would say.

He appreciated your personality outside of the chess board the more you spent time together. Crocodile tended to make people nervous, it was practically a pastime for him. However, after your initial encounter, you weren’t tense around him at all. You didn’t mince words, you said what was on your mind, even if you knew it would annoy him. You were honest, as far as he could tell, and generally well liked among your crew. He appreciated your looks, but that was secondary to your personality, a first for Crocodile. He even started to appreciate your circus outfits, always completed by a large scarf, no matter the weather. Even without your chess skill, he would have liked to bring you onto his crew. He was going to broach the subject tonight and ask you formally to leave the Clown. He knew you would agree. He was the better choice by a long shot. Crocodile had more money, more power, more influence than the Clown would ever have. He was smarter, stronger, and richer, there was no way you’d want to stay with a second-rate loser like the Clown. 

~

“Checkmate,” you said, moving a rook into place. You smiled at Crocodile, as he ran a hand through his hair. “By the way, that’s your tell.” Crocodile’s eyes snapped to yours. 

“What are you talking about? I have no tell,” Crocodile snarled. You smiled again. Anyone else would shortly have been drained of life, but Crocodile found you endearing. Cute, even. 

“It’s good to know your own tells,” you continued, undeterred by Crocodile’s outburst. “You run your hand through your hair when you are blindsided. If you can sense something is coming, you don’t. But if you are surprised, well, that’s your tell.” Crocodile paused, no one had shared that with him before. But perhaps no one had surprised him as frequently as you. 

“Speaking of surprises, I have something I’d like to ask you,” Crocodile drawled, lighting a new cigar. You were already preparing to leave after the completion of the third game. That was another thing, Crocodile found himself wanting to spend more time with you outside of your matches. Having you on his crew would help with that as well. You sat back down, watching Crocodile calmly, waiting for him to continue. “I’d like you to join my crew.”

“No.”

You declined instantly and decisively. Crocodile ran a hand through his hair, scowling.

[charlesoberonn]

Avatar headcanon (or AU really since I'm pretty sure it contradicts the lore):

The Air Nomads used to be a lot more violent.

They ate meat too, raising sky bisons and other animals not just for transportation but for food as well. Basically they were more like real nomadic civilizations, except they could fly and (some but not all) were Airbenders.

They waged nomadic warfare as well, raiding settled communities and extorting tributes. And waging war against other tribes of Air Nomads for grazing and raiding territory as well as for revenge of apparent slights. They were extremely loyal to their tribe and kin, above all other loyalties.

Eventually a powerful Air Nomad leader managed to unite the different tribes into one Air nation and he waged a war of conquest across much of the world.

He ruled for many years but after his death his empire was splintered among his descendants and rival warlords. The Air Nomads began to wage war on one another, but this time with a lot more ferocity, with armored Air Bisons and ground armies made up of conquered peoples.

It's during this warring states period that the beginnings of what would become the Air Nomad way developed, as a solution to the never-ending cycle of violence.

The practitioners of the new way adopted pacifism and eventually also vegetarianism. They raised Sky Bison not as property or tools, but as partners and fellow living beings, a sentiment they later expanded to all animals.

The practitioners took in many war orphans as well as babies whose parents couldn't raise them. And when these orphans grew and had kids of their own they often gave them to the temples to be raised there as well. This reinvented the way Air Nomads raised their children, putting harmony and individual growth over ties of blood.

As more and more Air Nomads adopted the new way, eventually the warlords and self-style Air Kings did too. And in time they or their descendants gave up their titles and claims. The now centuries-old way became the way of all Air Nomads.

Though their numbers were smaller, due to their spiritual acuity and their system of mutual aid, the Air Nomad were all much healthier than the other nations and all of them were Airbenders.

[in1-nutshell]

How would the tfa bots and cons react to a bot who is starscream twin brother base on his shattering glass counterpart

Since there isn't too much information on TFA Starscream's personality I mixed it a bit with IDW's Shattered Glass Starscream. Buddy the loyal Decepticon and Starscream the backstabber, who would have thought them being twins?

Hope you enjoy!

Autobots and Decepticons reaction to Starscreams Twin brother with the same personality as SG! Starscream

SFW, familial, platonic, slight mention of injury but nothing graphic or detailed, Cybertronian/ Bot reader

TFA

No one knows how this happened. It is one of the greatest mysteries unknown to Cybertron. How can the most loyal member of the Decepticon ranks, almost at par with Lugnut levels of loyalty, be related (much less twin) to the most backstabbing and whiny Second in command of its army? How could this soldier of the greatest armies in the galaxy be so found of science and organics?

Optimus Prime

When they first met, Prime thought that Buddy might have been another Starscream clone right off the bat. But it isn’t until he sees some kibble differences and overall different aura, that he realizes that that mech is no clone.

“You’re not Starscream! Who are you?”--Optimus

“Wow! First, that axe is very strong. What type of alloy is it made of? Getting off topic, my name is Buddy. A proud Decepticon under Megatron’s alligence.”--Buddy

“Are you some sort of clone like the others?”--Optimus

“Nope. Completely original. I get that I look like Starscream a lot actually. But there’s so many differences!”--Buddy

“oh, well—”--Optimus

“Not to mention being his Spark twin can really work up your circuits you know?”--Buddy

“…What?”--Optimus

Prime literally stops fighting for a good couple of seconds after hearing this. Buddy takes this opportunity and flies away. Optimus remembers reading on some Decepticon files back at the academy and through his ‘history videos’.

Buddy lets the Prime go to go see off.

Prime is even more confused the next time he sees Buddy actively fighting alongside Megatron and making a good team?

He has never seen Starscream fight alongside him like that, and he is second in command. Optimus almost admires Buddy’s loyalty and admiration to Megatron whenever some bot talks ill of the Warlord.

When the Prime and Buddy have the next fight one-on-one He does give an effort to try and persuade Buddy to join the Autobots side.

“You know it’s a shame that you fight for the Decepticons, Buddy.”--Optimus

“Oh, is it little Prime?”--Buddy

“Yes, --WOW!— Which is why I’m offering you a spot with the Autobots!”--Optimus

“Well now this is weird then.”--Buddy

“Why is—Watch it!—Weird?”--Optimus

“Because I was going to offer you a spot in our ranks too!”--Buddy

“…Huh?”--Optimus

“Oh boy, Hey Autobots! I think I broke your leader!”--Buddy

Ratchet

Oh, they have met before.

It was a few missions before the Lockdown incident back in the final days of the war.

He had been helping a wounded bot when he was suddenly face to face with a blaster. It would have gone off if Buddy had not interfered.

“Die Autobot scum!”—Random Decepticon

“Hey!”--Buddy

“Commander Buddy?!”—Random Decepticon

“Do you see this mech? This is a medic! We do not shoot medics with the wounded!”--Buddy

“But sir he is an Auto—”—Random Decepticon

“I do not care which side he is on! No one shoots the medics! Do you understand me!”--Buddy

“Yes sir!”—Random Decepticon

“Good. I will deal with this. Get back to base for regroup.”--Buddy

“Yes Comander.”—Random Decepticon

“…”--Ratchet

“I know you don’t trust me. But trust this one thing. Run.”--Buddy

Ratchet hadn’t seen or heard of that Decepticon since that day. When they meet again it was almost as if history repeated itself. Lugnut was about to detonate his bomb when Buddy held his arm back.

“Buddy!?”--Lugnut

“Lugnut! Megatron needs—”--Buddy

Zooom!

“We have to stop meeting like this doctor.”--Buddy

“What made you stop him this time?”—Ratchet

Straight to the point I see.”--Buddy

“You could have killed me and the kid. Why didn’t you do it?”--Ratchet

“…The organic child you have… are they all right?”--Buddy

…Yes, she’s fine.”--Ratchet

“Good.”--Buddy

Ratchet has conflicted feelings now whenever he is on the battlefield with him. At least he knows now that Buddy has a soft spot for organic life forms.

Bumblebee

Oh, he does not care.

Like Optimus he first thinks that he is some Starscream clone.

Doesn’t really care that they aren’t.

He does stop when he is told that they are Starscreams twin brother.

But he quickly continues fighting.

If he is related to Starscream then he has to be just as bad as him, right?

“He is just some slimly Con like the rest of them! Maybe just as bad as Screamer.”--Bumblebee

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”--Ratchet

“What do you mean. If anything, you should be agreeing with me!”—Bumblebee

“He has saved my life before. Twice actually.”--Ratchet

“Excuse me what?”—Bumblebee

Bumblebee does feel a bit conflicted on hearing Ratchets stories on Buddy. He is a Decepticon… but they also saved Ratchets life twice!

He will still shoot at him but this time more for injury than anything else.

Sari

She has a mini vendetta against cons since they took her dad from her.

Jokes around with Bee calling them Lugnut 2.0.

But where are the conflicting feelings?

Here they are.

Takes time after Sari finds out she is a techno organic.

Sari had been caught in the crosshairs of Lugnuts servo and crashed on to the ground under a billboard. What she didn’t know was that the billboard had been damaged and was no falling. Her jetpack as damaged and she just froze in place.

“SARI!”—Optimus, Bumblebee, Bulkhead

“KID!”--Ratchet

“NO!”--Prowl

She could hear the shouts of her friends but the only thing she was focusing on was the falling billboard and debris that was coming closer and closer.

Buddy who had seen the damage shrieked and flew over to the girl and used his body to shield her from the billboard and debris effectively covering them both. Sari remembered hearing a shriek and a couple of servos pulling her to the bot’s chassis all she could do was close her eyes. When she opened them again, she was face to face with Buddy.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”--Buddy

“What? Yeah, I’m okay I think.”--Sari

“Oh, that’s a relief.”--Buddy

“Why did you do that?”--Sari

“You have no part in our war. I refuse to have anyone civilian deaths that are not necessary.”--Buddy

“But you’re a Decepticon?”--Sari

“Just because I’m a Decepticon does not mean I hate organic life like my twin or companions.”--Buddy

“Oh, yeah Starscream’s your twin, right?”--Sari

“Exactly young one.”--Buddy

“BUDDY!”--Starscream

“Oh, I think that our rescuers.”--Buddy

A dozen servos suddenly shout out pulling and yanking the debris from off Buddy. Sari was still in his grasp protectively shielding her from any harm. When Buddy came out, he was almost knocked down by Starscream’s hug.

“OH, THANK PRIMUS! BUDDY! HOW COULD YOU DO SUCH A DUMB—OH PRIMUS YOU’RE HURT! LUGNUT GRAB HIM WE ARE GETTING OUT OF HERE!”—Starscream

“Screamy, hold on—”--Buddy

“FOR THE GREAT AND GLORIOUS LEADER MEGATRON!”--Lugnut

“Prime! Catch!”--Buddy

Buddy tossed Sari to Optimus as he was literally picked up and flown away for repairs. The team crowded around Sari trying to see if any damage was done. Not a single scratch was on her head.

Buddy was the one who took the damage.

She now thinks very differently of the Con.

Bulkhead

Bulkhead’s interaction with Buddy was under peculiar circumstances.

Bulkhead was battling it out with Scrapper, Mixmaster, and Dirt Boss when Buddy had arrived. Buddy looked like he was out for blood. Bulkhead thought it was for him and got ready to clobber the new Decepticons.

“Dirt Boss! Mix Master! Scrapper! Where are you?!”--Buddy

“Umm… hi?”--Bulkhead

“Oh, an Autobot. Don’t worry I’m not here for you.”--Buddy

To his surprise, Buddy went after the Constructicon’s instead.

As it turned out, Dirt Boss had Mix Master and Scrapper mess with Starscream’s wings because ‘he was too loud’.

“You, Autobot. What’s your designation?”--Buddy

“My name is Bulkhead.”--Bulkhead

“Good. Now Bulkhead, would you care to help me pound these dirty Con’s to the ground?”--Buddy

“But aren’t they on your same team?”--Bulkhead

“Oh, they were. But that changed the moment they decided to mess and hurt Starscream’s wings. So, you in or out?”—Buddy

“…”--Bulkhead

“We are just roughing them up a bit.”--Buddy

“I’m in!”—Bulkhead

Together the two of them punted the Con’s into Lake Erie.

“Wow. You really have the strength for this Bulkhead.”--Buddy

“Oh, thanks—”--Bulkhead

“I’m also sensing some untapped potential. That’s some potential that the Decepticons could use. What do you say Bulkhead?”--Buddy

“No thanks! I’m good being an Autobot.”--Bulkhead

“Well at least you’re polite. Until we meet again Bulkhead.”--Buddy

Buddy then transformed and flew into the night. Now Bulkhead really doesn’t want to hit him.

Prowl

Attacks Buddy straight on.

He is one of the smallest members on the team, besides Bumblebee. He sees something coming at him he is going to strike at it. Buddy actually had gotten a tip about Prowl over a conversation he heard from Swindle and Lockdown.

Buddy sees an opportunity. Having a bot with such incredible talents would certainly give the Decepticon’s an edge in this war.

“Hello there—Woah!”--Buddy

“That was a warning.”--Prowl

“I just came here to offer—”--Buddy

“The next one goes through your servo.”--Prowl

“Fine. I’ll come another day.”--Buddy

Prowl is dodging all these requests like the Draft.

Except this time, he is making sure he doesn’t get caught.

Megatron

Ah, yes, his favorite soldier.

“Megatron.”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Megatron

“I have the equipment necessary for the next phase of the plan.”--Buddy

“Excellent. At least some bots here are doing their work. You are dismissed.”--Megatron

“Yes, sir.”—Buddy

Don’t tell Lugnut.

Not only does Buddy offer him just loyalty, but because he also treats him as a mech, not some deity. He tries not to hurt Starscream too much whenever he is around.

They don’t make loyal soldiers like they used to.

Is willing to overlook some of Buddy’s softer behaviors on the battlefield because he always brings in good results back.

Starscream

He loves his spark twin.

It might not seem like it at first. Afterall their personalities contradict themselves. But if you have been around them long enough you can see the undying loyalty between these two brothers.

“I hate you and your organic meddling. How can you even stand them?”--Starscream

“Love you too Screamy. And they are called humans. Only some of them are dirty, not all brother.”--Buddy

Starscream and Buddy are very protective of each other.

Which is one of the reasons why Starscreams punishments have gone down with Buddy being around. Buddy is just and fair, starscream is not. That’s why sometimes Buddy will not interfere with Megatrons punishements, because Starscream deserved it. But that doesn’t mean he is heartless.

He always patches up his brother after every punch shot or anything.

 

“You know, if you’d stop trying to over thrown our leader maybe then I wouldn’t have to pound out all the dents in your wings.”--Buddy

“You’ll be thanking me when I do become leader.”--Starscream

“Sure, Screamy keep telling yourself that.”--Buddy

Blitzwing

His personalities clash whenever he is around.

Icy prefers Buddy’s presence a lot more than Hothead. It’s one of the only other intelligent being he can talk to.

“Did you recalibrate you blasters yet?”--Icy

“Not yet. Which circuits did you use to hotwire Lugnuts?”--Buddy

“The red one.”—Icy

Hothead can’t stand him on some days claiming him to be going soft. Other times he will get mad at Buddy for getting hurt over meaningless things.

“If you hadn’t thought about going after that organic, I wouldn’t have to help haul you off to the Med bay!”--Hothead

“Is that right?”--Buddy

“I could be scouting outside right now. But no! You had to get hit by a billboard!”--Hothead

Random likes to play games with Buddy and make random sounds. He has a whole record on weird noises to play with Buddy.

Sesame Street theme song starts playing.

“IT’S BEEN 3 HOURS! TURN IT OFF!”--Starscream

Distant giggles

Buddy always vouches for him whenever someone makes a comment on his different personalities.

All three of them like that

Lugnut

If he is going anywhere were Blitzwing isn’t Buddy is his next pick.

He knows that buddy can be trusted with sensitive things concerning the all glorious leader Megatron.

“Buddy. I have an important message for Lord Megatron.”--Lugnut

“If it’s another poem about his greatness, I suggest you not take it to him today. He is having a bad day today.”--Buddy

“…Please?”--Lugnut

“… Give me the data pad.”--Buddy

He very much apprentice Buddy sticking up for him whenever someone’s comments make an unnecessary jab to his ‘obsession’.

Buddy has a lot of brownie points on Lugnut’s book.

Blackarchnia

Honestly one of her only friends in the ranks is Buddy.

Since she came to the Decepticon side later not many were found of her and her organic mold. Buddy was the first besides Megatron to greet her with open arms.

Not even Lugnut got there fast.

“Welcome Blackarchnia, to the Decepticons.”--Buddy

“…”--Blackarachnia

“I know it may be a lot to take in, so I will be here to help to make sure you understand the ropes around here.”--Buddy

“…Thank you…”--Blackarachnia

She does spill her secret about being Elita-One, one night in a secluded area. She thought that Buddy would shoot her right them and there. But Buddy instead held her as she started sobbing.

Now that doesn’t mean that Buddy is okay with how she is treating this whole situation with Sentinel and Optimus, Buddy being the scientist he is has tried to help Blackarchnia with her situation. But no matter how much he has tried to explain toher that this would kill her, he tries to be as supportive as he can about her organic half.

[onlyyvette]

Megatron's Tramp-stamp thoughts?

Megs with a tramp-stamp...🤤

In my honest opinion, Megatron is totally a MILF, so him having a tramp-stamp makes so much sense. Just imagine him being this terrifying, all-powerful warlord, hell-bent on getting his way, crushing everyone who dares to oppose him with a little help from his fusion cannon...

Now imagine that same Megatron, with a new frame update, making him stronger than he previously was, much sturdier... and much more appealing with a new decepticon tramp-stamp.

As he makes his grand entrance into the main deck of the Nemesis after his new frame change, Megs has a smirk on his face; he knows that every con in the room can feel a new air about him, can feel a newfound power thrumming through his powerlines. Little does he know, most of the decepticons are gawking, more focused on at the tramp-stamp decorating their leader's backside.

Everytime he moves, his wide hips make that damn tramp-stamp move back and forth, a near mesmerizing thing. It makes it much easier for mechs to pay attention to his repeated, tiresome speeches on how they'll take down the autobots. Well, more like they're laser-focused on how the tattoo moves so fluidly along with his back and forth pacing and how much longer they can stare without getting their helm blown off.

Megatron doesn't get the big deal about it anyway. It was just a little additive that he thought was nice, but he knew how easily things like this could get mechs riled up, especially how inconceivable it seemed on mechs like him. He uses it to his advantage too, knowing that having soldiers that were incredibly down bad for him would strengthen their loyalty and in turn, ensure that less defect to those disgusting autobots. Much more effective than putting them on The List. Though if it was so easy to make the decepticons stay loyal to him, maybe he could entice powerful autobots to abandon their cause...

Don't mind the fact that I'm posting again a month later😋

[inkrivelbr]

How shameless!

It's not news to Liu Qingge that when he goes on missions, he ends up listening to the famous "Resentment of Chunshan".

But now, it's stranger than usual to hear this obscene song, as he is being courted (even if secretly from the public) by the couple.

Liu Qingge tried his best to ignore the music as he ordered tea at the store.

— Dear listeners, the beloved song has been updated, I hope you like it.

The song continues but halfway through, the singer says.

Liu Qingge was surprised.

— I hope they didn't make it any more obscene.

The singer returned to singing and...

A hot-blooded but loyal man.

A man known for his battles.

Once an enemy, now a friend.

The couple managed to win the heart of the handsome warrior.

Liu Qingge the warlord.

He is certainly the only one with enough resistance and strength.

To handle Xin Mo and Xiu Ya at the same time.

Liu Qingge spits out all the tea, ignoring the indignant scream of the person in front of him.

The music continued but Liu Qingge couldn't help but pay attention to it.

W-what did he just hear??

How did you find out they were courting you??

Why the hell in the song is he portrayed as a blushing virgin maiden?!

Yes he was a virgin before sleeping with them, but that doesn't matter now!

And what is this about holding both at the same time?!

He never...

Binghe is already too big...

B-both...at the same time...

Is this humanly possible?

He can already handle Luo Binghe...what would be more-

Embarrassed by his own thoughts, Liu Qingge pays for the tea and leaves the store.

______

Liu Qingge was panting, with his legs spread as wide as possible so that Luo Binghe could go deeper inside him.

— Qingge is very needy today, you know that whatever you want, just ask.

Says Shen Qingqiu while stroking Liu Qingge's hair as he was lying on Shen Qingqiu's lap.

Liu Qingge blushes, it is very shameless what he wants.

— Shishu, we will not refuse.

Seeing both of them being so kind to him, Liu Qingge finally confesses.

— I-I want you both... at the same time

A silence passed through the room before the couple, with renewed desire, made Liu Qingge's wish.

Liu Qingge actually endured Xin Mo and Xiu Ya at the same time.

The entire night in the Palace was filled with the moans of the Demon Lord and Peak Lord Qing Jing future husband

The servants clapped for Liu Qingge's resistance.

As expected of Bai Zhan's God of War!

[afghanbarbie]

The sex-based apartheid against women in Afghanistan cannot be reduced to, "Afghan men saw Afghan women enjoying freedom and got mad, so they established extremist religious governments to stop it." I am really tired of seeing this misconception and oversimplification spread around by leftists, liberals and feminists – it's racist, and simply not fucking true.

The majority of Afghans want a secular government and for the oppression of women to end. The Taliban represent a minority of Afghanistan's people. The deterioration of Afghan society – in particular, women's rights and freedoms – directly results from decades of foreign intervention, imperialism and occupation. Afghans did not destroy Afghanistan, the United States did, and the USSR paved the way for them to do so.

Had Afghanistan never been treated like a pawn in the games played by imperialistic powers, had we not been reduced to resources, strategic importance and a tool for weakening the enemy, extremism would have never come to power.

An overview of Afghanistan's recent history:

The USSR wanted to incorporate Afghanistan into Soviet Central Asia and did so by sabotaging indigenous Afghan communist movements and replacing our leaders with those loyal to the USSR. The United States began funding and training Islamic extremists – the Mujahideen – to fight against the Soviet influence and subsequent invasion, and to help the CIA suppress any indigenous Afghan leftist movements. Those Mujahideen won the war, and then spent the next decade fighting for absolute control over Afghanistan.

During that time period, known as the Afghan Civil War, the Mujahideen became warlords, each enforcing their own laws on the regions they controlled. Kabul was nearly destroyed, and the chaos, destruction and death was largely ignored by the United States despite being the ones who caused and empowered it. This civil war era created the perfect, unstable environment needed to give a fringe but strong group like the Taliban a chance to rise to power. And after two decades of war, a singular entity taking control and bringing 'peace' was enticing to all Afghans, even if their views were objectively more extreme than what we had been enduring up to that point.

When the United States invaded Afghanistan in 2001, they allied with the same warlords that had been destroying our country the decade prior and whom they had rallied against the Soviets – these are the people that made up the Northern Alliance. The 'good guys' that America gave us were rapists, pillagers, and violent extremists, no better than the Taliban. And that's not even mentioning the horrible atrocities and war crimes committed by American forces themselves.

So, no, Afghan men did not collectively wake up one day and decide that women had too much freedom and rush to establish an extremist government overnight. No, this is not to excuse the misogyny of men in our society – the extremists had to already exist for Americans to fund and arm them against the Soviets – but rather to redirect the bulk of this racist blame to the actual culprits. The religious extremism and sex-based apartheid would not be oppressing and murdering us today if they hadn't been funded and supported by the United States of America thirty years ago. And despite all the abuses and restrictions, many Afghan women prefer the Taliban's current government to another American occupation. I felt safer walking in Taliban-controlled Kabul than I did being 'randomly searched' (sexually assaulted) by American military police in my village as a child.

Imperialism is inextricably linked with patriarchal violence and women's oppression. You cannot talk about the deterioration of Afghanistan without talking about the true cause of said decline: The United States of America. Americans of all political views, including leftists and feminists, are guilty of reducing or outright ignoring Western responsibility for female oppression in the Global South, finding it much easier to place all blame on the foreign brown man or our supposedly backwards, savage cultures, when the most responsibility belongs with Western governments and their meddling games that forced the most violent misogynists among us into power.

(Most of this information comes from my own experience living as an Afghan Hazara woman in Afghanistan, but Bleeding Afghanistan: Washington, Warlords and the Propaganda of Silence covers this in much more detail. If you want more on the Soviet-Afghan war and Afghanistan's socialist history, Revolutionary Afghanistan is an English-language source from a more leftist perspective)

[earthstellar]

Warlord Ratchet: A Fascinating Concept 

“And to think, the Doctor of Doom’s mad quest for power continues...! His marauders pursued us to this planet’s orbit.” 

What gets me about Megatron telling Orion Pax that the current dilapidated condition of Cybertron was brought about by the Warlord Ratchet, Doctor of Doom (aside from the concept in and of itself) is that he also states that Ratchet has a legion of marauders who carry out his bidding 

and because marauders are raiders, and Megatron states they were “pursued by marauders” to Earth, the implication is that Ratchet is not on Earth himself--

-- which is smart on Megatron’s behalf, because this would deter Orion from potentially attempting to leave in order to confront Ratchet and instils a concern that perhaps marauders may appear at any time (at this point, Orion Pax does not yet realise that he is armed and is operating under the belief that he is still an Archivist and therefore not Warrior Class) 

but also, this gives us the incredible mental image of Ratchet milling around in some kind of rusted fortress made from the remains of several different Cybertronian buildings, quite possibly the remnants of Iacon -- maybe even the central hospital there, converted into a hive of terror 

still living on an otherwise uninhabited planet, with a loyal band of raiding troops who scavenge the remains of their world and possibly other planets as well (as we know these marauders supposedly have space capable vessels), quite possibly doing so in order to source spare parts and other various salvage -- Ratchet is a medic, who knows how he’s been having to piece together his army, repairing them from the remains of random citizens? 

and he supposedly, presumably either from his makeshift base in the shadows of Cybertron or from a war ship of some kind, commanded an army of raiders to chase Megatron and his followers as far away as Earth 

“I cannot imagine Ratchet capable of such horrors!” 

I can only guess at what Orion Pax was thinking in this moment, aside from his immediately stated disbelief: What drove Ratchet to such lengths? What happened to turn his compassionate, caring friend into a warlord capable of carrying out inconceivable destruction? How could such a thing occur, especially at the hands of a respected medic, someone he thought he knew so well? 

Would Orion Pax start to blame himself, for what was clearly the brutal decline of one of his greatest friends? I can imagine him starting to wonder if there was anything he could do, any signs of discontent, any indication that Ratchet was headed down a violent, dark path. 

And I’m sure he would be concerned about Ratchet himself, as well. How is Ratchet faring, nearly entirely alone on their planet save for his loyal bandits, as aged and worn as he ever has been, possibly accepting a lonely inevitable death on an already dead world? 

Or does Warlord Ratchet have yet more plans in store, his instruments of destruction poised to afflict themselves upon other worlds as well? 

The Doctor of Doom: How Could This Happen? 

It’s somewhat easy to dismiss the idea of Ratchet being this “Doctor of Doom”, because it so wildly opposes what we know of the character and what we know actually occurred with the war. 

But when you think about it for a little bit, an unhinged Ratchet would very much be a formidable opponent, especially with his social position in pre-war Cybertron giving him more immediate access to higher class/caste areas than many others would have been able to reach... 

...Perhaps this Warlord Ratchet was able to work his way into the Council’s good graces, possibly after attending to one of them after an injury and restoring them to health, gradually manipulating the Senate from the inside in order to secure more power, resources, allies, and ultimately the whole of Cybertron for himself-- Leading to a violent conflict which resulted in the destruction of their world? 

With his medical knowledge, even if he started out with a fairly small number of followers and whatever troops he could finesse away from the Council, he may very well have “built” some himself-- We do see in TFP that protoforms may be possible to manipulate into certain frame types, or some types of “cloning” may be possible. 

Any version of Ratchet without morals (or at the very least without any medical ethics) is a very dangerous Ratchet. 

Repairing the injured via patching them together with the remains of fallen comrades, creating a “zombie” army. Ghoulish, lumbering soldiers, marauders held together with armour designed for other frame types. Instructing his former colleagues (who would likely have at least started out with some inclination to follow him) to carry out “repairs” in such a way. 

Warlord Ratchet himself may have chosen to ingest dark energon much like Megatron actually did, perhaps out of a desire to create a new fuel source once Cybertron began to go dark and natural fuel sources began to dwindle. We already know that our actual Ratchet wasn’t afraid to test synthetic energon on himself, with similar motivations. 

His base of operations would quite possibly be Iacon’s medical centre, turned into a horrific hive-like structure, some wards actively still in use for repairs (at least for his own followers) and other areas dedicated to terrifying research, with supply basements full of experimental tech and defensive weaponry. 

Ratchet’s more support class (as opposed to warrior class) approach to things may well carry over to Warlord Ratchet’s approach to war-- An emphasis on intelligence ops, R&D, indirect and direct manipulation, initial political manoeuvring from within the existing system, and defensive systems to counter any munitions etc. that may come his way from opposing forces. 

His initial goals may well have genuinely been intended to improve Cybertron, to help people. Much like Megatron, back when he was Megatronus and wanted a more egalitarian, fair society. 

After working on lower class/caste bots who were nearly offlined from a lack of maintenance, poor to no access to healthcare prior to being dragged to him, etc. it may have been the catalyst for his decision to start using his upper class social contacts in an effort to change things from the inside out. 

Unfortunately, in this universe in which Warlord Ratchet rose to power, things may have derailed just as severely as they did with Megatronus and his initially well-intentioned efforts. 

The longer you think about it, the more plausible it could be. 

It would be easy for Megatron to build further upon this idea to manipulate Orion Pax, that Ratchet truly could have done this. 

I’m sure Orion Pax did not recharge well, his first night on the Nemesis. 

Where did things go wrong? What happened to his friend? How could he do this to their world, a world that Ratchet loved so much? 

--

IDK I just think “Warlord Ratchet” is an incredible idea, and I would have been totally fine if they did a whole season of TFP with the Orion Pax concept lmao 

also holy shit Ratchet in a built up fortress of a former hospital with a band of marauders under his command is such a powerful mental image 

[Screenshot: TFP Episode - Orion Pax, Part One] 

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Can I please request the One Piece warlords react to an Kanroji Mitsuri? Any warlord you choose is fine! Your writing is awesome by the way!!!

-Mihawk- He didn’t know what to make of you when he first met you, he found you fighting against a squad of marines who thought you were a threat when you refused to give them your sword, one that looked more like a whip than a normal sword. You looked like a normal maiden, but your strength, flexibility, and talent made him pause to admire you, he wanted to test out your skills for himself. Once you dealt with the marines, apologizing to them for being so rough, Mihawk approached you, “I wish to go a round with you.” You immediately flushed, seeing such a good-looking man, holding your cheeks as you looked away shyly, “If that is what you wish!” he was way stronger than you were, but unlike others he had faced, you had been able to last against him for a while, something he respected. After the fight he asked you out for a drink and you flushed again, “Like a date?!” which made him pause, you were an interesting person and he couldn’t help but give you a smile, agreeing with you which made you feel so warm and fluffy!

-Hancock- Initially thought you were a love rival, seeing you hugging Luffy, as she was fully prepared to take you on to defend her happy marriage! When Luffy introduced the two of you, you couldn’t help but cup your cheeks, beaming as Luffy called you his sister. Hancock immediately panicked, as she had been rude to you, looking down at you as if you were scum, only to find out that you were his sister! You were a lot like Luffy, warm hearted, hardworking, and very loyal, as you risked life and limb to keep Luffy safe, using your impressive skills. When Hancock had you alone for a moment, she was blushing cutely, gushing, “May I call you- my sister-in-law?” your mouth fell open as you realized she wanted to marry Luffy and you held her hands in your own, your eyes bright as you gushed, “Can I help you with the wedding?” Luffy was unaware of the looming storm as Hancock squealed, hugging you close.

-Buggy- Buggy had been annoyed the day he met you, he had split apart but some of his body parts had been blown away and he and his crew had to go find them all. He was looking for his right hand when he felt something- or should he say someone, grab onto it, holding it as if they were holding his hand. You had come across the moving hand, which would have freaked you out, had you not been in this world for a while, and you had seen some truly strange things, and it looked to be moving around, like it was looking for the rest of the body it belonged to. You picked it up, finding it kind of cute as you smiled, “I’ll help you!” before you took it, holding onto it like you were holding hands. When Buggy found you, a stunning woman holding his hand, he couldn’t help but yell- embarrassed, “What are you doing with my hand?!” your smile could melt anything as you beamed at him, coming over, “I’m so happy I found you!” what-what-what was this proposal?! Buggy flushed brightly, taking his hand back, reattaching it to his wrist but was still holding onto your hand. You flushed, seeing this now and he paused before looking down, realizing what he had done before he quickly leapt back with a screech. He was rather cute, as he told you that he would treat you to dinner for finding his hand, before yelling at his cooing crew who thought he was adorable.

[panda-writes-kpop]

Second Chances ~ Pirate!Karina

a/n: another pirate fic, but it was inspired by a conversation about losers that @kingmaker-a and I had. enjoy the fruits of my continued pirate brain rot and my experience of being a loser for nineteen years and counting! :]

tw: guns, blood, and violence (oh my!), alcohol (reader has a preference for brandy but just imagine something different if you don't like it), reader is a professional little shit (and this is a bit of a self-insert plz leave me alone)

♡ Masterlist ♡

summary: you're given a second chance at pirating because Karina fucked her first impression with you. To prove your worth (and to give her a second chance), she takes you out to a local shooting range where sparks fly (literally and figuratively).

As a former pirate warlord in a small town, your life couldn't get more boring.

You had spent your younger years chasing fame, glory and riches - and look where that got you. You were stuck on a shitty island with no crew and no way out except swimming (which would most likely result in certain death).

Once, a lifetime ago, it seems, you had your face plastered on every wanted poster board on every island you visited. Your head was worth a pretty penny, which made you keep your crew on a short leash. If one of them babbled, you'd find out pretty quickly.

Rats are a nuisance found at the worst time, so you'd only found out about your disloyal crew when you were disputing fraudulent charges with a nearby pirate crew.

With the world hunting your head, a pissed-off group of enemy pirates, and a pit of vipers you had once called your crew, you were on the next sailboat out from the coastline. You didn't have much more than the shirt on your back, so you fled to the first island that the ship ported on - the same shitty island you were stuck at, three years laters.

Three years might as well be eternity in the world of pirates - you barely recognized any of the pirates that were on the wanted boards. It's not like you wanted the bounty - doing odd jobs around the island kept a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and enough alcohol to clear your thoughts for a few hours.

Yet here you were, on a quiet island, in the first bar from the docks. With a bottle of brandy (the bartender started giving you the bottle after growing tired of refilling your glass again and again), you eye the newest group of pirates to make themselves at home on the most unbecoming island on this planet.

You didn't think anything of it - pirates frequent bars like birds frequent feeders - but a glimpse of shiny red-hair nearly causes you to choke on your brandy.

The infamous Red-Hair Pirates, led by none other than Captain Winter. A fierce fighter known for her loyal, deadly crew, and you wanted nothing more than to stay out of her way.

She could kill you without a second look, not to mention that her crew would rip you to shreds afterwards like rabid hyenas. 

You wouldn't find any peace tonight, not when an unloaded rifle crashes against your shoulder. It takes every muscle in your body to resist the urge to fight as a girl with short black hair scrambles to grab it.

"Sorry, fuck, I'm sorry." She slurs before crashing against the table. 

Brandy spills all over your clothes as your temper crashes against its lid - you're almost at your breaking point. 

"It's fine." You teeth grind against each other as you spit out your answer. 

"Your brandy-"

"-just take your damn gun and go!" You shove the gun into her arms, which sends her tumbling to the ground.

Eyes follow the two of you as the girl attempts to get up, at least three times, before another girl from her crew grabs her arm.

"C'mon, Rina, let's go." The second girl, with light blonde hair, shoves Rina towards the exit as you try to sink back into your seat as far as possible.

Everyone's eyes are still lingering on you as you pull out a small knife - not to kill or show dominance, but to perform a favorite party trick of yours.

You spot the target board on the other side of the bar. When a bartender moves out of the way, you quickly aim and fire the knife while looking the opposite direction. 

The gasps and cheers tell you that you've hit your mark while you attempt to clean up the spilt brandy with a few napkins. You'd probably smell like liquor for days, if not weeks, but you'd learn to live with it, just like everything else.

After you dry most of the liquor off the table and your clothes, another bottle of brandy lands on your table with a sharp thud.

"I don't take pity booze." You sharply answer.

"It's not free, but I'm asking for five minutes of your time." Captain Winter places her hand on her hip as you hesitantly grab the bottle.

"Take as long as you need, Captain." You take a swig of the brandy, and you're pleasantly surprised by the flavor. "Top-shelf booze?"

"We got lucky on our last ship takeover." Winter slides into the other side of the booth. "Are you looking for any riches?"

"You're trying to buy my loyalty with alcohol." You scan Winter for any malicious intent, but she only has a simple smile on her face.

"Is it working?"

"Depends on what you're offering and why you're so interested in me."

"You threw a knife from across the room without looking and managed to hit a target dead-on." Winter leans in before folding her hands. "Are you that accurate with a gun?"

"I am, but you wouldn't know that unless you knew who I was." You lean back against the booth before taking another drink of brandy. "You're well read, Winter."

"The lucky guess excuse doesn't fool you, then. It's an honor to be in your presence, Captain." 

"Are you looking for a marksman?" You deadpan as she nods.

"I can't guarantee great pay or a path back to notoriety, but-"

"-I'm in."

~

Due to the damages to Winter's ship, you're stuck on land for a couple more days. After your little stunt at your most frequented bar, you decided to go to a much quieter place, farther from the docks for tonight's drinking session.

Unfortunately, trouble finds you before you can find it. The drunken girl from before, Rina, is stunningly sober as she walks through the bar doors.

Once she spots you, her eyes become shifty as her posture tenses up. A smile plays on your face - a nervous marksman, a paradox for the ages - so you ask for another glass of brandy before you wave her over.

"You're here later than I expected." She softly says before swirling the brandy in the glass in front of her.

"And you're here sober. Guess we're both full of surprises." You quip as her eyes widen.

"I don't usually have that much to drink. We had a good plunder earlier in the day." She's quiet for a moment before her eyes meet yours. "Sorry about last night. I don't hold my whiskey as well as I thought I did."

"You'll get used to it eventually, or you start drinking lighter, Rina." You sip your brandy as she chuckles into her glass.

"Karina." A subtle correction, but one you notice. "Giselle's the only one who calls me that."

"Well, Karina, it looks like you and I will be spending more time together. Your captain has recruited me as a marksman under your watch."

"If you're under my watch, then we should see what you can do," Karina pushes the glass towards the bartender after taking a final swig from the glass, "unless you're not feeling well enough?"

Her lips twist into a teasing smile as you finish off of your own glass of brandy. For someone who can't hold their liquor, she's got a mouth that will get her in trouble with the wrong people.

Luckily for her, you're not that type of person. Not anymore, at least.

"There's a shooting range a few miles from the beaten path. Unless you've got somewhere else to be, I'd be glad to show you what I've got." You slide off the stool with ease as Karina scrambles to catch up with you.

"Isn't it locked up by now? It's a few hours past sunset." She says as you scoff.

"When have pirates ever cared about rules?" 

~

"Have you ever picked a lock before?" 

You turn to Karina, who ponders your question for a moment in the glowing moonlight. Without any obstruction, it shines just enough light to illuminate her face, especially her eyes and lips.

....It's not like you were looking, though.

"I usually leave that to Giselle, she's the crafty one." Karina shrugs before pulling her jacket closer to her chest. "How much farther is this shooting range, exactly?"

In all fairness, it is a bit chilly at night, especially when you're taking a dirt path that sits close to the ocean. You've taken this path before, when you need to blow off steam or just need a break from the hustle and bustle of town life.

"Just a few more minutes up the road. You cold?" You start pulling at your overcoat, trying to undo it as quickly as possible, before Karina places a hand on your arm.

"It's alright - a little cold never killed anyone." She jokes before taking a soft breath.

You watch, albeit it a little intensely, how the air from her lips creates a soft, foggy mist that floats into the night sky. You wonder if she's putting on a brave face because she's intimidated by you or if she wants to intimidate you. Seeing as her first introduction to you was as destructive as a bull in a china shop, you could easily rule out the latter. 

Karina wasn't the type to lead with authority - she left that to her Captain. From what you've seen and heard of her, she develops personal connections with her subsection of the crew, which explains the immediate offer of shooting practice. This wasn’t a test of skill, but rather, a form of camaraderie. 

That was something you could respect, as a former Captain of your own crew. 

A distant pang in your chest pulls your attention from Karina - did you really miss your crew that much? They were liars and scumbags, but they were family, after all.

"We're here," You curtly say as you place the lock on the gate in your hand, "hand me your hairpin."

"How did you know I had hairpins in my hair?" She asks, confused, before slowly grabbing a hairpin from her hair.

"Your hair has stayed perfectly in place since we left the bar and it's been breezy all night." You answer before holding out your other hand. "I'll give it back, I promise."

"Sounds reasonable enough." She shrugs before handing you her hairpin.

Normally, it would've taken you a few seconds to pick the lock, but Karina's presence throws you off your game. It doesn't help that she's eagerly leaning over your shoulder, which causes heat to rise to your cheeks, but the lock gives a satisfying click before you can dissolve into a nervous mess.

Her soft breath on your shoulder causes you to gently shudder. You look back at her as you pull the lock from the gate and put it in your pocket.

"You're incredibly resourceful for a simple marksman." Karina says as you open the gate for the two of you. "Are you sure you're not hiding anything from me?"

Karina offers you a brilliant smile, one that outshines the sun and the moon.

"Why don't we find out?" You give her a wink before gesturing for her to enter the gate. "My commanding lady goes first."

Her eyes widen as she slips through the gate before you, and you shut the gate as she intently watches you.

"My hairpin-" She lightly brushes a lock of stray hair behind her ear as you hold the hairpin in between your index and middle fingers.

"I've got it."

Karina holds out her hand expectantly and opens her mouth to say something, but the words die on her tongue as you quietly close the distance between the two of you. You, ever so carefully, put the hairpin back into place in Karina's hair, in the exact location that it came from.

When you pull away from her, a rosy blush covers her face as she nervously plays with the sling carry on that keeps her rifle on her back. You bite your lip as she shakes her head at you.

"You're full of surprises."

"I know." You shrug as you continue to walk towards the shooting range. "Shall we?"

The rest of the walk to the shooting range is silent, but you manage to slip the lock into your pocket during the walk.

Karina was right - you were full of surprises. You were surprised that the sound of the key banging against the lock in your pocket didn't give you away. 

You'd done some personal business for the owners, and they didn't have much capital, so you simply asked for a key to their shooting range. They were more than happy to give you a spare from the keysmith, and you used it whenever you came here alone.

This time, you had something to prove, and someone to impress. Since Karina could hardly look you in the eyes every time you glanced over at her, your mission was complete.

~

"You've shot a rifle before." Karina folds her arms and steps away from you as you aim the barrel of the gun at the target.

"It used to be one of my favorite weapons, back when I was pirating with my crew." You casually mention before firing the weapon. 

The bullet hits the center of the target, just as it always does, and Karina stares in amazement.

"Nice shot, Deadeye," Karina softly says before adding, "were you this good of a shot when you were a captain?"

"Did Winter tell you?" You ask.

Karina looks away for a moment before responding.

"I was the one who recognized you, at first. I was too drunk to remember how I got over to you, but I remember saying something to Ningning, who must've told Winter," Karina explains before meeting your eyes, "I still can't believe I made a fool of myself in front of such a notorious pirate."

Her cheeks burn bright with embarrassment, but you're quick to comfort her with a small smile and a soft hand on her shoulder.

"If it makes you feel any better, the first time I got wasted without my crew, I threw up on a Marine Officer. Don't remember how that night went, but I woke up the next day on my ship, and I was covered in someone else's blood."

Karina throws her head back and laughs, and you think that her laughter is the best sound that you've ever heard. It's much better than the jokes told at the bar, or the sleazy tactics of the salesmen that you walk past every day on your way to your job of the day. 

You wish you could bottle her laughter and get drunk on the sound every night of the week. It's loud, beautiful, and it fades too quickly for your liking.

"I guess we're both natural disasters, huh?" Her warm smile causes your heart to stir as you set the rifle aside for a moment, just so you can stand closer to her.

You move away to set the rifle down in a safe location before turning around to face her.

"Enough about me. I've heard plenty about you from your crew." You say, feigning innocence, as Karina folds her arms and scoffs.

"If it's about me not being able to hold my liquor, I'm going to hunt Giselle down and-"

You take a step closer to Karina - only three steps between the two of you - before you interrupt her.

"I've heard from your Captain and her first mate that you're quite a flirt. Sometimes too much of a flirt, but it's okay to overindulge every once in a while."

Karina bats her eyelashes at you as she takes a step closer - now it's two steps between you and her.

"Would you like me to flirt with you, Captain?" You don't miss the way her eyes scan you over, shamelessly checking you out when no one's here to witness it.

"How about I go first?" You flirt right back before taking another step - now there's one step between you and her.

Karina takes another step forward - her lips are so close to mine, please kiss me - as she rests her arms at her side.

"Do your worst." She taunts before you pull her in for a long, sensual kiss.

Her hands grab for your arms as you rest your arms at her waist. You're usually not this coy with your romantic pursuits, but Karina's different from your usual type - much prettier and much kinder, if you were to be honest.

Pure adrenaline rushes through you as neither of you want to let go. To let go is to ruin the moment, to have a conversation that neither of you are ready for, but you have to do it anyway because air is a necessity to life, apparently.

"I-" Karina starts as her lips leave yours. "What about-"

She pauses before diving in for another kiss. This time, she weaves her hands through your hair as you continue to hold your waist. She's much more reluctant to let go this time, so her hands go back to rest on your arms as your hands rest on her hips.

"So... does target practice always go like this for you?" You jest as she lightly pushes you away.

"Way to ruin the moment." She jokes as you lean in to taunt her.

"So, this isn't how you treat all of your new recruits?" You grab her rifle and toss it to her.

"Just the ones I really like." She smiles at you, and you take her words at face-value.

She could be playing you for a fool, but that didn't seem like the person she was. You say the woman under the mask, the flirty disaster of a woman who took you out to target practice just so she could steal a few kisses from you.

"Do you want a few more drinks, or would you like to go back to the inn?" You ask before Karina offers you a hand.

"I think another round of drinks is in order - a round for my favorite new crew member." She emphasizes the word favorite, which makes your heart flutter more than you want to admit.

"As long as you don't throw a loaded gun at me this time, I'm in," You say before she elbows you, "okay, I'll let it go... for now."

"I'll make it up to you, I promise," She waits for you to take her hand before walking back to town with you, "you just have to give me a second chance.”

[mychlapci]

The replacing a spike with a second valve stuff made me come up with an idea where in the mines, they didn't want miners getting pregnant willy nilly and being unable to work (esp since sex was one of their few down time entertainment and a lot of miner builds are v fertile), so p much all get castrated. The idea being that if they become unable to work like Terminus, at least they can provide a new, extra use as broodmothers and spike sleeves for their bosses and well performing coworkers.

Megatron was terrified of ending up like that, keeping that info about him closely guarded, leading to him never losing his seals even after he's free of the mines and through the war (esp since he KNOWS it won't take much to spark him). I keep flip flopping between him losing it to his seekers, who have low fertility rates, and so end up crazy loyal bc he can easily handle a whole trine at once AND gets pregnant with the biggest litters they've ever seen

Or

It becoming known on the LL after Megatron turns out to be a really good midwife (I saw it in a fic once that he learnt how in the mines and thats been in my brain ever since), and then some figure it out from some probing questions about the mines. Which of course leads to many crewmates staring into space for the next few weeks as they think about virgin but hyper fertile big bad megatron. Cant figure out how they persuade Megatron to open up for myself yet tho 😔

Oh, i am very fond of old virgin Megatron. I love the image so much.

If the Lost Light crew ever found out that there’s a highly fertile warlord with two valves, both of which are still sealed, aboard their ship... oh boy, everyone enters a breeding frenzy. Everyone wants to get under Megatron’s panels and finger his pretty little valves until he’s begging for spike.

hmmm... Maybe Megatron starts considering getting pregnant after a while aboad the Lost Light. He starts to feel desired with all the optics on his frame and dirty minds thinking about his valve seals...

[fanaticsnail]

Shag - Part 3

Part 3 to the Swing and Sway Dance Series!

There is no smut in this chapter, just truly teasing out the dynamic between the three of you within your new arrangement.

This chapter was brought to you by @feral-artistry's beautiful artwork, teasing this thought from my brain with her wonderful drawing. Who could resist that taunting pout?

Word Count: 3,197

Masterlist here.

Warnings: kisses, touches, no smut. Just throuple-dynamic things, small hints at prior encounters.

The terms were laid out between the three of you: the clown was still first and foremost your captain and you remained his prized acrobat; the shining star and the spotlight beaming onto him to showcase his majesty. The warlord of the seas was granted free reign to lord over you, but never truly rule you. There were a few times where an overlapping tension arose, but never truly resolved itself; lying dormant and ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

Buggy required constant reassurance that you were absolutely his; you belonged as a major part of his crew, your act with Jac being one of the main attractions to his show under his travelling red and white tent. Hands upon his cheeks, gentle kisses laid against his brow, sitting yourself facing him atop his lap as you smoothed the unruly blue strands beneath his red and white bandana, uttering affirming words of affection for him. Whispers of “darling,” and “dearest,” fleeing from your painted lips against his own as you caressed him tenderly beneath you.

Mihawk needed no such encouragement from you; ultimately knowing he could come and go as he pleased with just a smirk falling from his lips and a sneer of teasing directed towards your captain as he laced his arm around your waist and hoisted you against his openly displayed chest.

The dynamic shift of balancing their energies ultimately fell upon you. Mihawk wanted truly to have an obedient woman, someone he could direct and encourage: a trophy for his lap at affairs of importance and a confidant to share his intimate feelings with over a glass of finely aged wine. Buggy was a lost puppy; eyes always searching yours with minor pleading and need for you to be with him always.

Mihawk ultimately knew you would always belong to Buggy, but he had hoped to share this arrangement with the blue-haired clown for as long as you allowed him to. The sway and pull you held over these men was truly impeccable; the Buggy-Pirate crew commenting on it within the green room constantly.

All criticisms and words falling from the mouths of members of your crew in anything other than complete and utter support were not only hushed by the command of your captain; but also your acrobatic partner, Jac. He was your loyal watchdog, constantly checking in with you to ensure you were not overwhelmed in the romantic displays between the men. He was your knight and your rock as you navigated the balance between the two of them, and would immediately bark and gnash his teeth if anyone paid you insult to how you shared yourself between the two powerful men.

The first time there was a call for parley between the two of them was when they began to openly use your body to demonstrate who truly owned you as their partner; who held your truest affections and your full attention. Reassurance and submission did nothing to halt their advances. Fine pieces of jewellery adorning your neck or shirts representing memorabilia and loyalty to the Buggy-Pirates did nothing to satiate their desire to truly keep you completely to themselves.

Mihawk, paying no heed to the fact that you were required to perform on stage, would openly litter your skin with passionate welts of lust against the flesh exposed on your neck and down towards your cleavage. If he chose to grace his presence to witness your performance with Jac, he would arch his brow up with a smirk as soon as Buggy noticed your skin peppered with marks drawn from his lips; his passion displayed openly for all to see.

In response to Mihawk’s fervent exchanges with your body in its open display, Buggy would sooth over the marks with his own lips to trace over the flesh tenderly, while also wearing an exuberant amount of blue body glitter as he held you flush against himself in the thralls of passion.

Paint would stain your cheeks, lips, clavicle and stomach all the way down to your waistline; the tint refusing to come away with water and soap as you scrubbed at the flesh, overzealously to rid yourself from it. The glitter was impossible to fall away from your body and hair; Mihawk often noticing it would transfer onto his own dark locks after you spent a night with him while returning from the arms of your captain the night before.

The parley was not initiated by you nor the two men, but from Jac who was the mediator for the “situationship” you found yourselves falling within. The strain of balancing the men was impeding your ability to perform well, your central balance falling off and no longer being able to manage itself against your acrobatic partner. Jac truly was your greatest ally as you navigated this new venture with the two powerful men.

“You need to work a better arrangement out,” Jac uttered, sternly to the two men as you sat between them at the rectangular table, “I apologise, sir,” he nodded to Buggy, “I am a member of your crew first, but I am also her performing partner. I can’t have her overburdened with all this,” he gestured between the three of you, “and not have a compromise reached to balance it appropriately.”

You sunk back in your seat, pursing your lips and arching your brows in the centre of your face. The two men scowled at Jac as he spoke, but neither made to impede their will over his berating and chastising words; knowing them to be the truth.

They knew it was not a healthy arrangement; Buggy’s gaze falling over your form as you held your eye contact firmly against Jac’s feet. Mihawk held an intimidating stare at your acrobatic partner, looking through his peripherals to meet with his lover, noticing the close attention her chosen spouse was paying to her also.

“And what do you suggest?” Mihawk offered in a bored tone, shifting his gaze onto the crystal wine glass placed in front of him; reaching forward to grasp it within his index and middle finger while steadying the stem with his thumb, “we all sleep together?”

“Yes,” Jac nodded his head, firm in his resolve and unwavering in his dictation, “exactly that.”

“What?” Buggy uttered darkly in question, his voice laced with venom at the sheer notion.

“You share in every other way,” Jac challenged his captain, stepping forward and towering over the table, “look, I’m not suggesting you all fuck each other-.”

The hairs sprung upwards on the back of your neck, eyes wide and shocked at the crassness of your acrobatic partner. The tinge of red flew to the apples of your cheeks, the tips of your ears and pooling at the centre of your chest. Mihawk’s hold on the wine glass tightened as Buggy narrowed his eyes at the thought.

“-Just bed-share,” Jac suggested with a shrug while holding his gaze staring down the warlord of the sea, “her in the middle, you both at the sides. You might find yourselves enjoying the dynamic.”

“And if we don’t?” Buggy chimed in, arching his painted brow upwards, “what then?”

“Then,” Jac stepped forward once more, his thighs meeting with the polished edge of the table as he lowered his lean over it, “this needs to end. It’s not healthy, and I need her to be at her peak performance specifically for safeguarding purposes.”

Mihawk rose a crystal glass to his lips, maintaining eye contact with your partner as he gulped back the crimson liquid. Buggy’s frown deepened at the thought, not truly desiring the prospect of sharing a bed with Dracule Mihawk alongside the woman he came to cherish.

“Or,” Jac shrugged with a downturned smile, “you could all shag?”

Mihawk caught a small choke as he brought the glass down from his lips, the red liquid burning in his oesophagus. Buggy’s eyes held a bitter rage within them, baring his fury up at the broad acrobat.

“The dance, right?” you spoke up beneath your breath, raising your chin upwards to look at your partner warmly, “shag-dancing?”

“Of course,” Jac expressed gleefully, a warm smile rising to his cheeks at your words, “I could have the band play something for you to share the dynamic, something up tempo like we did all those nights ago.”

“That could be fun,” you nodded, looking first to your captain who’s teal orbs beamed at you joyfully before falling his sights to the broody warlord behind you, scowling at him as the notion truly fell over him.

Mihawk remained indifferent, glancing through the corner of his eye at you to assess how respondent you were to the notion of truly sharing yourself with the two of them, completely all together.

“It will help you all find a rhythm,” Jac added, only truly attempting to convince his captain, as the broad-hat adorned warlord hooked his arm around the back of your chair in support. The painted clown leaned in towards you, placing a hand atop your thigh as he did so.

“Is that what you want, sweets?” his brows upturned and almost innocent as he searched your eyes for confirmation, “to dance? To be shared, truly?”

“I don’t know,” you uttered reactionary, “you already both own me. I’m yours,” you reached your hand over towards the dark-haired, honey-eyed warlord while tilting your gaze over to him, “both of yours,” you confirmed. Mihawk leaned in his body towards you, stooping his dominating presence over you as he made to seek out your lips in a kiss; halting as he gazed at the clown through the corner of his amber eyes.

“I’ll leave you to flesh out the details,” your acrobatic partner smiled at the three of you, bowing his head towards the floor and making his grand exit from the small drawing room of the large red and white tent.

You felt your captain approach your cheek from behind, pressing a small kiss against the smooth flesh before pressing his own cheek flush against yours and staring at the swordsman. Your breath hitched in your throat at your captains orders, spoken in hushed tones against your jaw.

“Kiss him,” he whispered darkly, pressing his lips against your jaw, “I need to see it.”

You hesitated, looking deeply into the eyes of Dracule Mihawk; flittering your gaze between his honey-coloured eyes for any reservations in you following the order of your captain and lover. Mihawk narrowed his eyes, baring his gaze down at your captain before softening them and unclenching his jaw as soon as his eyes met yours.

He moved his body closer still, moving his arm from its steady hold on the back of your chair to fall behind your neck and draw himself into you; his lips moving tenderly against your own. Your eyes remained opened staring at the closed lids of the bearded warlord as you felt the small scrape of stubble atop your cheek from Buggy. The three of you remained in this position: your blue-haired captain gawking through his clenched jaw at his spouse and her lover engaging in a tender kiss.

Although he immediately thought to compete for your attention, he instead found his eyes glazing over and his hand moulding itself tighter against the flesh of your thigh; feeling as if he was truly having an outer body experience as he witnessed you deepening your kiss with Mihawk.

He felt through the placement of his cheek flush against your own as you parted your lips to receive the assaulting tongue of Mihawk’s between them. He found himself closing his eyes and truly engaging in the emotion displayed between the two of you, snaking his hands around your waist from behind as he moved his chin down to fall at your shoulder; his lips meeting tenderly at the exposed flesh you revealed through your attire to him.

Mihawk’s brows furrowed as he deepened his ministrations against your lips, his fingertips raking the follicles upon your scalp beneath his touch. He, at first, ignored Buggy’s presence and focussed solely on you and the way you responded so eagerly to his touch. He snuck a glance through half-opened lids and found the clown pressing feverish and hungry kisses against your shoulders and neck, trailing his painted lips up to your jaw from behind once more.

He turned his sights to you now, acknowledging truly your desire and emotion behind your closed lids and a moan escaping from between your lips; falling freely into Mihawk’s mouth. His eyes began to roll back as he brought his other hand to rest against your free jaw and raise your head upwards to allow for a deeper and more intimate connection.

Mihawk felt you hesitate against his grip, the first time you had ever shown apprehension towards his domination; prompting him to almost completely withdraw himself from your touch. You chased his retreating lips with your own, bringing your hand up to lace your fingers beneath his dark curls and rise to stand from your seated position.

Buggy was unsure as to where he was going, but was happy to chase you; your hand grasping at his mustard-coloured cravat to pull him into you as you hooked your legs over the lap of the warlord and sat atop him. The blue-haired, clown-captain began to stand awkwardly beside the intimidating aura of the warlord as he watched him engage with rough and passionate kisses with his acrobat. A small aura of dread fell onto him, apprehension following your feverish and passionate kisses against the lips of the mighty warlord.

Sensing his retreat, you broke from the lips of Dracule Mihawk and clutched tighter against the necktie of your captain, pulling his lips into you as you engaged with his red-tinted mouth; passionately encapsulating his skin and tasting the grease-paint beneath it.

The dynamic shift between the two men was so intoxicating, you found yourself beginning to fall under the enchantment of their complete duality. You unlaced your fingertips from Mihawk’s hair, choosing to drag them upwards to collect more of the blue-haired clown to draw him into yourself, dominating him with your lips to almost bully him into submission: something you found your captain to be quite fond of during your isolated bedroom tussles.

Mihawk felt a groan escaping his lips, stifling it as it exited in response to the sight of you engaging in a more dominant role against the lips of your captain. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, his hands helplessly falling to grip your thighs and steady you against himself. He chose not to engage you as you locked your lips against the torso and head of Buggy the clown, trailing your lips to fall against the clown’s jaw and neck; forming a haste and desperate path down towards his collarbone.

Buggy and Mihawk locked their eyes together at that point, almost persuading each other to back off from their arrangement. The feel of your feverish kisses against Buggy’s clavicle and the raking of your pelvis against Mihawk’s thighs were enough to persuade them otherwise as they gave into their emotions and the sensations you made available to the two of them. Buggy’s eyes rolled back as he grit his teeth, never one to ever shy away from an audience. Mihawk focussed his gaze on the swirling of your tongue against the tender skin of Buggy’s neck, empathetically experiencing how truly sensual the kiss felt as if it was against his own skin.

You were left completely shocked. Never had you thought these two men alone would hold a candle to you; let alone you sat atop ones lap while you passionately engaged with the other.

Buggy reached his gloved hand below your chin, breaking you from your connection against his skin and leading you towards the awaiting lips of Mihawk. You began kissing his bearded jaw and trailing a path upwards towards his mouth, capturing him in a warm and welcoming kiss as you would if you were truly alone. Mihawk held his watchful gaze against the teal-coloured eyes of the infamous genius-jester as he apprehensively smirked at the sight laid before him, moulding his lips against your own for the second time.

A small moan fell from your lips as you broke your lip contact from the warlord and circled your nose against his.

“I’m up for a shag if you both are,” you giggled, nudging your nose against the warlords before turning your attention towards your captain and pressing your lips gently against his blue-stubbled chin.

“The dance, right doll?” Buggy asked in a small warning tone, prompting another giggle to flee from your lips.

“I can take whatever you both can give me,” you teased him, an apprehensive moan escaping from Mihawk’s lips; surprising the three of you with its presence. You all turned your attention towards the broody warlord, his amber eyes falling to your paint-smeared lips. You softened your eyes, looking to the reddened lips of Mihawk, as he too accepted Buggy’s painted lips through your bridging kisses; presenting true artistry between the three of you.

“You’re sure, darling?” Mihawk asked you, seeking any apprehension from your eyes at his question. You nodded in affirmation, a warm smile falling to your lips in adoration and affection.

“If you’re at all uncomfortable,” Mihawk continued, bringing his palm to rest against your cheek, “let us know and we’ll stop.”

You leaned into his palm and shut your eyes at his warm touch. Buggy’s eyes softened at witnessing the exchange between you. He found himself truly in awe at the fact that he was not only engaging with you intimately, but to be the rival of a warlord romantically was exceptionally flabbergasting.

“Let’s go then,” you said once you reopened your eyes. You sought out your captain’s gloved fingertips with your own and brought his knuckles to your lips; pressing a small kiss against them once you found them, “my quarters are the most neutral of the options presented to us currently.”

“Agreed,” Mihawk stated almost too suddenly, stunned at his eagerness to engage with the two of you.

“I guess that’s for the best,” Buggy nodded with a melancholy smile. Sensing his apprehension, you immediately stood from your place atop Mihawk’s lap with furrowed brows.

“My darling,” you began, smoothing over his cheeks and jaw with your hand and uttering firmly, “if you are uncomfortable, you will let me know.”

“Oh, honey, I’m not uncomfortable,” he cooed darkly at you, his eyes blown wildly with lust, “I’m just keen on where exactly we’re going to begin.”

Mihawk hummed in agreement, too rising to his feet and circling his arms around your waist.

“Lead the way,” the dark-haired warlord spoke against your jaw before releasing you and taking one of your hands away from the painted cheek of your captain and clasping gently within his own. You turned your head towards the warlord, looking up at him through your eyelashes before capturing the white gloved hand of your captain and began leading the two of them towards your quarters to see where the night truly took the three of you.