#also excuse the moustache I gave him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

braxiatel · 1 year

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If I were an artist I would call this a doodle, but as I am a writer I will have to call it an unfinished, unedited abandoned wip.

Mumbo and Scar meet in a bar and commiserate about the struggles of being a young adult. Eventually they kiss. Also Scar is trans and Mumbo is autistic because I wrote this fic for me and me alone <3

(Content warning for references to alcohol, sex, and mentions of a character getting disowned)

————

Scar woke slowly to the sound of birdsong.

The pale spring sun was on his face, as warm as the body next to his in a way that made him feel a pang of homesickness.

He stretched, listening to how his joints popped and creaked, before opening his eyes to look around the unfamiliar room.

He had known it was not his city apartment - excuse him, flat - since he registered the birds. The closest he got was the coo of the pigeons that nested above the grand train station. Nothing like the chitter-chatter of songbirds he could hear here. Must be in the suburbs, then.

The room gave little away. Somewhat austere with its dark walls, the closest thing to decorations being a bonsai tree that was somewhat overdue a trim, and of course the rows upon rows of bookshelves with their arranged books standing to attention. Scar blinked, unable to make out the titles between the sleep in his eyes and the darkness of the room.

Instead he turned to look at the person next to him.

The combination of messy black hair and pale skin brought back vague recollections of the prior evening. Flashes of the interior of a very familiar bar, a hand in his, and a row of empty shot glasses in front of him. Well, that explained the pounding headache, at least.

Scar dared to lift the covers a little, getting a better look at his bedmate.

A handsome round face, smeared by last evening’s eyeliner. The moustache had been neatly combed with wax last night, but now it was somewhat comically askew on the man’s face.

“It’s a mouthful. My friends just call me Mumbo.”

“Mumbo?”

“As in Jumbo.”

“Well, what a lovely name you have then, Mumbo Jumbo.”

Scar blinked. Right, he had met Mumbo at the back of the bar.

It was an older place, with good food and decently priced drinks, that meant it had survived since the early ’00s when karaoke rooms had been a must for any self-respecting club.

These days it was mostly used by couples looking for privacy, or by people looking for somewhere to do the sort of substances the owner would kick you out for even bringing into her establishment, the door half obscured by the very curtains that had once framed it as a main selling point.

In short: it was a sound-insulated place in an otherwise noisy environment, with comfortable sofas, that few people other than the poor bugger making the cameras knew about.

It made it the perfect place to catch his breath after a long evening at work. The next guy to man the security cameras had been two hours late - exam season emergency, apparently - and Scar didn’t feel like sitting in the break room where - once again - Angela had just opened a window to smoke rather than going outside, making the whole place an asthma attack waiting to happen.

So Scar had tucked his bag into the basket of his walker and gone into the karaoke room expecting a quiet moment when instead-

“Well, hello there.”

Years later Scar would claim his immediate thought was something in the direction of either “handsome” or “beautiful” depending on what mood he was in, but honestly in that moment he had mostly felt shock followed immediately by concern.

The man in front of him looked as though he had just witnessed something gruesome. Eyes wide, with a faraway gaze and shaking hands.

“Oh, sorry, is this off limits?”

In the present Scar was looking at the man’s sleeping form, marvelling at what a night’s rest had done for him.

Light stubble decorated his soft jawline and Scar’s fingers itched to feel it. Mumbo’s lips were slightly parted in a snore, and he felt their phantom presence on his own. His arm was heavy around Scar’s waist, though it did not feel possessive so much as protective.

Similar to how he had been holding himself when Scar had found him. Huddled in the corner of a couch, as if trying to make himself far smaller than he was.

“No, no. I just came here to sit down,” Scar said. “but I can leave you to it.”

The bus home didn’t arrive for another 20 minutes - if it were on time for once - and his joints would surely protest if he tried to wait it out in the cold winter air.

“There’s room,” the man said, pulling his long legs up to his chest.

Scar paused for a moment. The stranger did not seem dangerous. Upset, perhaps, but there was a million and one reasons one might be upset. He sniffed the air and detected no more alcohol than was usual for the bar.

Well, it was a big couch, there was certainly room for two.

The cracked, white leather sank beneath his weight, creaking as it shifted. The stranger winced but otherwise stayed where he was.

Not a week went by without one of the other employees telling Scar he should try working the bar sometimes. He obviously couldn’t, not with how long it required him to stay on his feet. It didn’t stop him from spending his breaks there though, talking up a storm with the customers and doubling their sales while he was at it.

He was what one might call a people-person, though he very much doubted he would have missed how tense the man in the room with him was even if he hadn’t been.

“My name is Scar, and who might you be?” he asked.

Perhaps he had been wrong in his assessment of how drunk the man was, or perhaps Scar himself was more tired than he had though. Either way, the sentence the stranger spoke was an unidentifiable whirl to Scar.

“What was that?”

The stranger sighed.

“It’s a mouthful. My friends just call me Mumbo,” the man - Mumbo - explained.

“Mumbo?”

“As in Jumbo.”

“Well, what a lovely name you have then, Mumbo Jumbo.” Scar could not keep the smile from creeping into his voice. “Now, Mumbo, I am no expert, but it seems to me that something is bothering you?”

Mumbo shifted, turning his face halfway from Scar’s and resting his face on his knee, resulting in a lock of his hair obscuring the other half. Well, so much for keeping an eye on the stranger with whom he was alone.

“Long night,” Mumbo told him. “I just needed a break. I don’t do well with loud noises or crowds.”

Scar made sure to keep his voice down when he spoke next.

“Interesting place to go on a Friday night, then.”

Mumbo shrugged. “Well, there’s not a whole lot of gay parks or gay cafes about. The man i was meeting up with wanted to meet here.”

Scar offered a look of sympathy.

“Date gone wrong?”

It was at this point he learned that Mumbo was the blushing type, when his cheeks darkened.

“Something like that…”

Scar inched a little closer, feeling the insatiable itch of curiosity.

“You know, people tell me I’m a good listener,” he fished. “I can go first if you’d like. My love life is abysmal. I haven’t had a date in months, and my last steady relationship was with a straight guy.”

Mumbo looked up fully, pausing for a moment, before he said:

“Tonight was a frankly terrible - and misguided - attempt at getting over my flatmate.”

“This sounds like the sort of conversation we could both use a drink for,” Scar said, having long since learned that this was the way of the British. “What’s your poison?”

Mumbo hesitated.

“My treat,” Scar hastened to add. “I get a staff discount.”

“... [Mumbo requests a drink].”

“Coming right up, good sir,” he said.

Another perk to working here was being able to skip the busy friday night line - sorry, queue - at the bar. He was back in the quiet room in no time, balancing the two drinks on a tray.

“Please don’t spill any. You really aren’t allowed to drink in this room, so if we ruin the sofa or the carpet it will get docked from my paycheck.”

Mumbo accepted his drink, clasping it tightly between his two hands.

“Cheers,” he sighed, taking a sip. “How did you end up dating a straight guy?”

Mumbo, it seemed, was the forward type.

“I’m trans,” he said. “We were still together when I realised. He was good about it, you know, just didn’t want to date a guy. We parted as friends.”

“Right,” Mumbo said. “Congrats? On the gender?”

Scar couldn’t help but laugh. “Why thank you, Mr Jumbo, that’s very kind of you to say.”

“My flatmate is straight too… or he was, anyway, until recently. Turns out being in love with him was a lot easier when I thought he wasn’t into men. Back then it was the idea of dating a man he wasn’t into, and not…”

“You?” Scar guessed.

“Yeah, that,” Mumbo sighed, having another sip of his drink.

“Well, he’s a fool to overlook such a handsome man.”

Mumbo snorted.

“You are!” Scar told him. “Look at you. That luscious hair, the stylish suit, those beautiful grey eyes, and those curves? I’d say you’re quite the catch, Mumbo Jumbo.”

Somewhere between the compliments and the way Mumbo bit his lip and blushed Scar had a realisation. Yes, Mumbo was quite handsome, wasn’t he?

“Well, you must be just about the only one in this bar who feels that way. My date walked out after half an hour, and I’ve failed to talk to even a single other man tonight.”

“You’re talking to me,” Scar pointed out.

“I don’t think it counts when one of the staff decides to give you a pity drink,” Mumbo sighed.

“Do you think that’s what’s happening here?” Scar snorted. “I’m off the clock, you know. I’m just making friends. I’m a friendly guy. Look, why don’t I tell you a little more about myself, and you can do the same if you’d like? Great!”

He had continued to tell Mumbo about his life story, how he ended up in the UK, going to university, coming out, getting sick, dropping out, and finally after several years in and out of the hospital, ending up enrolling again while working evenings here in the bar.

Ending up in Mumbo’s bed…

Scar stretched, the delicate silk sheets slipping over his naked skin in a gentle caress. It brought to mind the way soft hands had wandered over his flesh in the dark of the small hours of the night. It had been a while, long enough he was probably going to be sore for at least half of the day. It was a pleasant sort of soreness, though.

He looked up at the face mere inches from his, feeling no shame in taking in the details of Mumbo’s appearance while he slept.

In the low lights of the bar he had not been able to tell, but from the shape of his face he suspected Mumbo would have dimples when he smiled. There was no sign of wrinkles on his skin yet, but by the sharpness of his cheekbones, he had to be in his twenties at least.

The moustache was a nice touch too, even if it had tickled terribly against Scar’s collarbones and abdomen each time Mumbo had kissed him last night.

On the subject of collarbones, Scar could only note his admiration of the rather prominent mark he had left just about Mumbo’s left one. He shivered at the thought of how the other man had whined. Perhaps he would be up for another round this morning..?

Another round… right. He had stayed past the last bus for another round. Mumbo, once he had started talking, had seemed almost compelled to share his life story as well.

“Theodore Bertram Ambrose Osborn Chace the third,” Mumbo pronounced, a seemingly impossible feat giving he was at the end of his second pint. “Former heir to the right honourable Lord Theodore Chace the second.”

Scar whistled and leaned back in the booth he had found them towards the back of the bar, though it might have gotten lost in the noise. The music was as loud as anywhere else, but they had the table to themselves and the ability to wave one of Scar’s colleagues over when they would momentarily need another refill. Mumbo seemed content enough, anyway.

“That’s quite the name. Can’t imagine any loving parent wishing learning how to spell all that on any child of theirs.”

Mumbo picked up his drink, downing the rest of the dark red liquid.

“They weren’t,” he confirmed. “Hence, Mumbo Jumbo. Easier to pronounce.”

And a name that came with less baggage, he read between the lines.

“I have this friend from Sweden - shared a flat with her when I did my bachelor’s degree. He accused me of having a Mumbo Jumbo name, and when my father disinherited me for dropping out of business school and going into engineering… well, it just fit me better. Silly, I know, but what can you do.”

“Mumbo,” he started. “My name is Scar.”

Another thing Scar was learning about Mumbo was the fact that he was a giggler, or at least the drink brought it out in him. His whole face lit up with it, even when he tried to hide it.

“So, your Swedish friend, is he the one you’re pining after?”

Mumbo shook his head. “Iskall moved back years ago. No, he’s from here. We were paired up for a pub quiz during fresher’s week and we hit it off. I think I fell a little bit in love with him the first time he spoke to me. He just… has this energy. He can be such a pest sometimes, but his happiness is always infectious. Even when he’s laughing at your face because he pranked you by glueing the cereal box to the kitchen counter again, you can’t help but join in. You ever met anyone like that?”

“Sounds a bit like my ex,” Scar said. It must be the alcohol warming his insides, he decided. Surely the ‘Yes, I think I would give up most of my earthly possessions to stretch this evening forever if it means hearing you laughter again’ was down to the alcohol.

Mumbo huffed, picking up the drinks card.

“I’m never going to get over him this way.”

Scar rested his chin in his hand, leaning against the sticky table.

“Nonsense. Look around you, Mumbo, this room is full of wonderful men all looking for a good time.”

“Hard to get to know them when the music is so loud.”

Scar laughed. “Well, I wasn’t suggesting you go looking for ‘the one’ right away. But a night with a handsome man might be a good first step.”

Scar hoped he never got tired of watching Mumbo blush. It was just so… cute.

“What, like a one-night stand?” he asked.

“Exactly.”

“I’ve never… I’ve never done that any sooner than the third date,” Mumbo confessed.

“Never too late to try something new,” Scar suggested. “If you want to, that is.”

Mumbo made a noncommittal sound, wringing his hands.

“Just a suggestion. I’m sure there are many other things you could do to create some distance. A holiday, maybe? I hear Paris is nice this time of year. Or maybe a new hobby? Something to get you out of the house”

Mumbo bit his lip.

“Maybe… There’s one thing I’m wondering, though. Why are you doing this, Scar?”

Why was he doing this?

Mumbo was good company, and Scar liked people. In the backroom, the closest he got to social interaction was Samuel showing up to replace him for the late shift, and while the people on his course were nice enough, most of them were a decade younger than him and straight out of sixth form. And Cub, of course, but when Cub would be home in their little two-bedroom flat above the Chinese restaurant was anyone’s guess.

And shoot him, Scar liked to see people happy, and he liked to believe there was people out there for everyone, helping Mumbo find his (or at least the courage to find them) wasn’t such a bad use of his time.

“This is the first new thing that has happened to me in weeks,” he admitted. “I don’t get out a lot - just work and school. I’ve already missed my bus, and the taxi market will be a nightmare at this hour, so I’m stuck here for at least another hour until the Friday evening rush passes. And you’re interesting, I suppose.”

“That was… very honest,” Mumbo said after a pause.

“I tend to be. That a problem?

“No, not at all. Makes it a lot easier when I don’t have to second guess. Dating, making friends - I’m a bit of a spoon with these things.”

Scar laughed. The alcohol was getting to him, he could tell, because the idea of being Mumbo’s friend made something in his chest feel all warm and fussy.

“Do you want to know one thing I don’t think I will ever get tired of? You British people and your funny little sayings. ‘A bit of a spoon’, that’s adorable.” He grinned, doing an excellent job of imitating Mumbo’s accent in his own humble opinion. “Well then, Mumbo, as someone who has been very much enjoying making friends with you - how would you like a sample of my famous, internationally renowned Scar Bontemps wingman service?”

“If you promise me not to try to do an English accent again, I think I’d agree to just about anything.”

Scar gasped. “I am great at accents, Mumbo! I bet you the next round I can convince someone I am British.”

“Well, if you’re handing out free drinks, I won’t say no.”

Scar stood up, taking the first few steps towards the door before he realised what Mumbo had just implied.

“Now, hold on just a moment, mister,” he protested. “That’s it! I’m going to prove you wrong, right away.”

Scar’s head ached, a reminder of just how that bet had turned out for him. The first round of shots had been his treat, the second bought by Mumbo. Dutch courage, he had called it.

Mumbo would surely have an advil somewhere… or whatever they were called this side of the pond. However, trapped between a wall and a man sleeping like a rock, Scar stood little chance of finding them.

It was very gentlemanly of Mumbo to begin stirring just when his need for pain relief was getting urgent, Scar thought.

He moaned, perhaps a sign he too was suffering for last night’s escapades, and tightened his hold on Scar’s waist.

Scar relaxed, letting himself be pulled against Mumbo’s chest, only squirming a little when his hip started protesting at the odd angle.

“Good morning,” he said.

Mumbo sighed, hiding his face in the crook of Scar’s neck. “Hey.”

The way he was petting Scar’s back was sweet, the gravelly tone his voice had taken on from sleep sending a shiver down his spine.

“Something wrong?” Mumbo asked, prodding himself up on one of his elbows.

Scar’s back lamented the new angle he was lying at and he adjusted himself, then adjusted Mumbo with hesitant hands, until he was comfortable again.

“I think an elephant walked through and stepped on my head while I slept - or perhaps a marching band took up residence on the inside of my skull.” At Mumbo’s puzzled, half-asleep expression, he added: “My head hurts.”

Mumbo hummed, the scruff on his cheeks tickling the sensitive skin of Scar’s neck when he leaned in to kiss his shoulder in sympathy.

“Wait here,” Mumbo told him, wriggling out from under Scar and standing up.

Despite his pounding head Scar could not help but lament the dim light of the bedroom. The end of the night was clear to him, but only in flashes. Ones that, sadly, did not include as much detail of what Mumbo looked like naked as Scar would have liked.

However, being a man of the arts, Scar had to admit there was something truly aesthetic about the way the sunlight that slipped in through the curtains lit up Mumbo’s side. One stripe of light painted on his pale skin, filtering through the speckles of body hair and nestling into the curve where his leg joined his torso. As Mumbo retreated into the en suite bathroom, it paned over his backside, upwards, playing with his silky black hair.

How would it feel on a sunny day, warmed by the sun, Scar wondered? He wiggled his fingers against the sheets in a vain effort to satiate the itch to find out.

Mumbo returned a moment later with two pills and a glass of water.

Scar eyed them sceptically.

“You keep your glassware in your bathroom?” he asked, feeling entitled to judge the man at least a little after sleeping with him.

“Only one glass,” Mumbo excused, not close enough that Scar could make out his blush in the dark. “Sometimes when I’m working on a project, I get a little… focused. seeing it next to the basin reminds me to eat and drink. It’s clean.”

“You’re a funny one, Mumbo Jumbo,” Scar told him, accepting the water and the painkillers, downing both.

“In the best ways only, I hope,” Mumbo said, flopping back on the bed with a soft grunt.

Scar leaned over him to put the glass on the nightstand, using his position to lay down half on top of Mumbo.

“Just need a moment to wake up properly.”

The last part of the sentence trailed off into a yawn. He stretched his arms above his head, bending his wrist just in time to avoid hitting the wooden windowsill.

As he settled back down, arms wrapping around Scar, it struck Scar how comfortable Mumbo was in his own space. It suited him.

The Scar Bontemps Wingman service was renowned in his circle of friends. Ren liked to say that in another lifetime Scar may have been a travelling salesman, a conman, or possibly both.

Scar wasn’t sure about that, but he did know he was good at this.

Matchmaking was easy. It was all about understanding two fundamental things: 1) everyone wanted something 2) everyone had something to give.

On dark days and long evenings watching the security feed, he often found himself circling the thought that the only reason he found it so easy to talk about others and so hard to talk about himself was that he doubted whether there was truly anyone out there who would be interested in what he had to offer.

With Mumbo it was easy. The man was obviously attractive, passionate, and charming. He had all but convinced himself setting Mumbo up with someone would be as simple as to introduce him to whatever man he had his eyes set on. Mumbo was attractive, passionate, and polite. His laughter was infectious, one evening in his company enough to put Scar in a good mood.

“So,” Scar asked, hand on the bar counter to steady himself after the second shot. “Anyone catching your eye?”

For the first time since leaving the room, Mumbo surveyed the busy room. From the small dance floor - currently dominated by five women who had arrived together and seemed to have some intricate constellation of relationships between them, judging by how a different pairing in the group were kissing every time Scar looked over. To the door, opening and closing and letting what little fresh air was able to slip in into the bar as guests went out into the cold winter air for a smoke. Finally, at the end of the bar where a group of men a year or two their junior were surveying the crowd with feigned disinterest. Bingo.

“How about those three?” he asked, nodding towards the three, well, twinks was the word that came to mind.

“Erh,” Mumbo said eloquently. “Sure?”

“Which of the three do you like?”

Mumbo looked at Scar for another long moment before surveying the group.

“The one to the right,” he revealed. “He looks stronger.”

Muscular men were Mumbo’s type, then. Scar made a mental note of it in case this first attempt didn’t work out.

“Ready?” Scar asked, draping an arm over Mumbo’s shoulder.

“As I’ll ever be,” Mumbo replied, shoulders tense enough that Scar’s own trapezius twinged in sympathy.

Mumbo, Scar quickly learned, was not an easy commodity to sell.

He obviously had plenty of qualities, which Scar dropped artfully into conversation. Why, my good friend Mumbo is an engineer, did you know? Very smart. He volunteers at a repair workshop, on top of working at a garage. Mechanics are so strong, don’t you agree? Who doesn’t love a man covered in oil and sweat? And look at him. How many men do you know that are willing to make the effort of wearing a suit every day?

That part was easy.

The hard part was when the commodity you were trying to sell seemed adamant to fight back against you.

Mumbo, while technically an engineer, needed to become a fully-fledged civil engineer before he could use his degree for anything, so really he was just like any other master’s student. The repair workshop was only to buff his resume, and the mechanic mostly had him doing consulting work - flying machines and cars weren’t so different after all.

The suit though, oh he could talk about the suit! Scar thought he had finally succeeded - on the fourth try - until Mumbo started talking about the seventh tie knot, illustrating how to tie it and detailing when to wear it. Scar made a mental note to go to his new friend next time he had a formal event, and to not bring up his manner of dress with the next man they approached unless he seemed particularly interested in the history of cufflinks.

“I don’t blame you, you know,” Mumbo hiccupped over another shot of whisky, provided by Scar. “I’m just not good at this.”

“Nonsense,” Scar told him, downing his own drink and rubbing Mumbo’s shoulder comfortingly.

(Despite his protests that he did very little practical work at the garage, Mumbo was rather strong, wasn’t he? How had Scar not noticed sooner…)

“You just need to get out of your head. Maybe we’re just going about this wrong. What if instead of approaching them, we get them to approach you?”

“And how would we do that, mate?” Mumbo asked, his arm slipping under Scar’s and providing much needed support.

“Dance with me?” he suggested. “We’ll get everyone wondering who those handsome men on the dance floor are, and when they come to ask, all you need to do is seal the deal.”

“I’m a terrible dancer,” Mumbo confessed. “Can’t dance a single step.”

“It is past midnight, everyone will have had enough to drink that it won’t matter.”

Mumbo sighed. “If you think it’ll work…”

He took a step back, offering a light bow before offering Scar his hand. Scar bit his lip not to laugh. It made sense, it did. Old money and formalities often went hand in hand. Mumbo had probably been taught how to waltz, or something equally formal.

Scar took the offered hand, placing it at his waist.

“You stand there,” he instructed, positioning himself closer to the centre of the floor, and Mumbo outwards so he could be seen from the bar and the booths. That suit really did wonders for his backside…

Now, Scar was not much of a dancer either. He liked it, but there were the obvious challenges.

“You okay?” Mumbo asked.

“My balance isn’t great without my walker.”

Mumbo’s hold on him tightened, and Scar had to wonder why he was suppressing the urge to shiver in such a hot room.

“We can leave if you’d like?” Mumbo offered.

“I was promised a dance, Mr Jumbo, and I’m holding you to that.”

Scar placed a hand over Mumbo’s chest, feeling the other’s racing heart even through the layers of fabric.

“Just hold on to me?” he requested.

“Of course,” Mumbo agreed.

They started out slow. Scar moved, Mumbo followed, the two of them simply swaying to the music.

Whatever song must be popular, because soon a handful of other bar patrons joined the previously sparsely populated dance floor. For a moment Scar thought he might have succeeded in getting someone to see Mumbo for the get he was, but instead the additional people just pushed him further into Mumbo’s arms.

Mumbo’s hand crept around his body, settling on Scar’s lower back instead of his hip, holding him in place.

“You okay?” he asked Mumbo.

“I was just about to ask you that.”

Scar smiled at him. They were chest to chest now, and he had to wrap his hands around Mumbo’s neck to even have room for his arms.

“You’re so warm,” Mumbo told him, swaying to the tune of the music again. Being as close as he was, Scar was moved by him.

“Is that bad?” he asked, both feeling and seeing how Mumbo shivered when Scar’s breath ghosted over his neck.

“No,” Mumbo said.

The music picked up speed, and so did their dance. For the first time since they had left the safety of the karaoke room, Mumbo looked relaxed.

His eyes were on Scar, his attention solely on moving to the music.

How had Scar not noticed Mumbo’s eyes sooner? Dark grey framing light, reflecting the flashing lights on the dance floor back to Scar.

The song changed, but Scar was no longer listening.

Mumbo’s hips were against his, the two of them sharing heated breaths as they continued dancing past the fifth song. Aches and pains forgotten, there was only the beat of the music and the beating of their hearts.

For every rejection Mumbo had run his hands through his short hair, leaving it a mess at this point. Perhaps Scar should smooth it out?

He wanted to do so, anyway.

He got as far as the short hair at the nape of Mumbo’s neck. Mumbo bit his lip, sighing, and Scar could not help but watch those pink lips move.

Oh.

Mumbo was tall, and had to bend his head down experimentally. Scar approached, both of them inching closer, and-

His lips were soft, his tongue inquisitive where it met Scar’s own. He tasted of fruity ciders and burning alcohol, the scent of his subtle cologne somewhat mixing into the taste in a way that wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

Whether Mumbo was consciously tightening his hold to support Scar when his knees began to go shaky, Scar wasn’t sure.

Scar heard himself moan, and Mumbo responded by biting at his lip.

He gasped, breaking away for breath.

“Cheeky,” he accused, leaning against Scar. “Do that again?”

Mumbo continued as he had all evening, following most of Scar’s whims. This time, however, he cut the kiss short, trailing down Scar’s jaw and neck instead. Oh, how pleased he was he had worn something low-cut tonight.

One of his hands remained on Mumbo’s shoulder - a necessity, his legs were still as soft as jelly beneath him - while the other trailed down Mumbo’s back, and settling on his ass- arse- whatever.

“Scar,” Mumbo sighed. “You sure about this?”

“Wouldn’t be kissing you otherwise,” he replied. “Let’s get out of here?”

“My flatmate won’t be home,” Mumbo agreed.

“Mine will be.”

“My place it is.”

And from there… well, somewhere between heady kisses, needy touches, and affirmations that neither of them expected the other to be at their best after how many drinks they had had, they ended up at the back of a cab, and then in Mumbo’s little terrace house.

“Upstairs,” Mumbo said somewhere south of Scar’s collarbone and north of his left pec, nimble fingers flying over the buttons of Scar’s shirt. It did make sense, with how much Mumbo knew about suits, that he would know how to most effectively remove a button-up. How very talented he was.

“Not great at those,” Scar told him, his walker left at the front door alongside their shoes.“Sofa?”

“Flatmate will be home by morning.”

Scar sighed, tilting his head back to allow Mumbo better access. He had never been with a man with facial hair before, and was delighted to learn Mumbo’s moustache tickled against his skin.

“I’ll help you?” Mumbo offered.

“Sure,” Scar said. By morning he would be decidedly more sober, so getting back down shouldn’t be such a challenge.

He smiled, the events of last night playing out before his mind’s eye.

Kisses that started out hesitant, while hands explored unknown paths, soon turning heated, clothes coming off in the process.

Where last night Mumbo’s body had been marked by teeth, it was now decorated in pretty little bruises. Scar knew he was much the same.

The alcohol had still been clouding their heads, burning past inhibitions, but remdering them slow. To compensate they had moved at a leisurely pace. Warm, soft, and caring, ending with both of them on their sides, inquisitively familiarising themselves with where to touch to make each other sigh in satisfaction.

Mumbo, he learned, had never been with anyone trans before. He was a quick study, though, diligently prepping Scar, carefully listening to Scar’s instructions when he told Mumbo how to hold up his legs so it wouldn’t hurt his joints now or tomorrow.

It hadn’t exactly been the best sex in the world, both of them were drunk after all, but Scar was certain he had never felt so comfortable after a one night stand before.

He was still catching his breath, lying comfortably on this side, when Mumbo slipped into the bathroom. Scar could hear the water running, and after a few minutes, he returned, looking less flushed and much cleaner.

“Sorry,” he had said, lying back down with all the grace of a falling tree, offering his open arms to Scar. “Just needed to clean up.”

Scar could recall waving it off, already cuddled against Mumbo and drifting off to sleep.

In the light of the morning, he kissed Mumbo’s shoulder and was rewarded by him snuggling closer.

“I’m awake,” he mumbled, adding a snore that told another story entirely.

It was sweet, and Scar did nothing to resist the urge to kiss him again, planting one on Mumbo’s jaw.

Mumbo shifted to look down at Scar.

“Goodness, you’re handsome.”

He said this with a surprising amount of clarity.

Scar knew this already, but it was nice to hear it anyway.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

Mumbo’s hand settled on Scar’s waist, his fingers spreading and tracing patterns on the sensitive skin.

“Can I kiss you?”

[Still lying in bed, Mumbo and Scar agree that they both want to get to know each other better. They both find each other interesting and attractive, and even if it doesn’t turn into romance they think they could become good friends.

Mumbo goes to have a shower. Scar thinks of joining, but is hungry. Mumbo tells him where the kitchen is and to help himself to whatever he’d like.

Scar goes into the kitchen and is greeted by Grian, Mumbo’s flatmate - and his ex!

Scar is thrilled to see him. Grian tells him he regrets breaking up without giving it a try, he’s been thinking a lot about Scar, and wishes they at least hadn’t lost contact. Scar doesn’t blame him, and just looks forward to reconnecting.

Grian suggests a time and Scar has to decline because he has just planned a date with Mumbo that day.

Grian reacts weirdly to this, but before Scar can ask, Mumbo joins the in the kitchen. Scar happily tells Mumbo that he and Grian know each other, and how]

#posting from my phone so sorry if the formatting is bad #part of this writing exercise to me is not editing it #so this is what you get I’m afraid #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #redscape #mumscarian #writing

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pixies-and-poets · 7 months

Note

Maybe something with the Borrower!Woodrow au? If that's not too big a bother of course

- @down-the-rabbid-hole

[A sequel to this piece from earlier!]

The opera had reached its intermission between the second and third acts. Soon the grand finale would be upon them, but for now, the actors and singers hurried to their dressing rooms for a moment's reprieve and to change into new costumes for the next act's timeskip.

Most of the performers shared a dressing room, but as the leading man, Phantom had his own. Once he entered and shut the door behind him, the first thing he did was open his pocket and pull out its little occupant. He held the tiny creature gently in his big hand, raising him up to his eye level.

"Have you been alright in there, tesorito?" he inquired. "Not too hot or stuffy? The stage lights can be sweltering."

"Oh, I've been fine! I suppose I was rather warm, but... I wouldn't have blamed the lights." Still, now that he was in the open air, he did find it refreshing, and realized he had been sweating a bit.

"Well, if you start feeling sick or uncomfortable, you must let me know. Just pound on my chest. I will make an excuse to get offstage and relieve you."

"Ah, but I'd never want to disrupt your show! Worry not about me..."

"There have been many shows, and there will be many others. But there is only one pocket-poet I know of, and he cannot be replicated." With a smile, he leaned forward and gave the little rabbid a kiss on the head. Woodrow reached up and played with his moustache for a moment, love-drunk.

Phantom sat his companion down on top of his vanity, on a pretty box that contained pins, hair ties, and other odds and ends for holding costumes and hair in place. He turned to his costume rack and casually stripped off his clothes, ready to change into his elaborate outfit for the final act. Woodrow leaned forward in yearning, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, longing to bury himself in that chest-fur, to cling to it, to feel his whole body rise and fall with Phantom's speech and laughter and song. But he knew the singer had limited time. There would be time enough later.

"Ah, Tom-" he called out as the singer slid his arms into a fresh undershirt. "I was wondering about something."

"Mmhmm?" said the other, buttoning up the shirt. He usually hated explaining theatre to the ignorant, but for the little borrower he was always happy to oblige. He had an excuse for his lack of knowledge, after all... but also... Tom just couldn't get enough of talking to him.

"Before the show, someone offered you roses, but you turned them down... why is that? I thought you adored roses."

"Ah!" said the ghost with a smile, putting on a colorful new vest. "I wondered if you might find that rude of me. But you see... the person who offered me those roses was either a fool, or trying to sabotage me."

"Sabotage you?! How? Do you think those were poisonous roses?"

Phantom laughed, as he looked in the mirror and adjusted his new costume. "No, carito. Besides, poison would do little to me. Rather... how shall I put it. The theatre is its own world, and has its own rules. Its own magic. And there are many, many things that cause bad luck, and bad shows, and bad performances."

The poet's spine and ears straightened upright in an instant. "Bad luck..." he repeated. Then he settled down again, his ears drooping forward. The wondrous atmosphere of the stage had made him feel like he was transported to a new world, one where he could escape his problems... but it seemed that no place was immune to ill fortune.

"Indeed," said the ghost. "For instance- you may have heard that you must never tell a performer good luck, only break a leg, yes?"

The poet nodded. "Yes! I do remember reading about that."

"It's one of our most enduring superstitions," said the Phantom, pulling on a sparkling coat with a grand cape attached. "And that is why people tell me to break my legs, even though I have none." He chuckled, and made sure the decorative clasp on the front of his cape was secured. "Now, the flowers- that is the same. It's a bad omen to give an actor flowers before their performance. You must always wait until after. I will gladly be showered with roses and petals at the end of the show."

Woodrow nodded in curiosity. "Are there other omens?"

"Far too many!" said the ghost, as he sat down at his vanity, finally closer to the poet again. He opened his makeup-box and began freshening himself up. "You mustn't have a mirror onstage as a prop... you must never incorporate a peacock feather into a costume... there's a famous play whose name you must never speak within the confines of a theatre, even if you're rehearsing it, unless you are speaking the literal character's name as part of your lines... and others, which I can teach you in time."

"Astonishing!" said the little poet. "I thought I was an expert in bad luck. But it turns out there's a whole new world I've yet to learn about..."

Then suddenly he looked up sharply at the ghost. "Tom... do you not think me bad luck? Do you not worry about carrying me with you on stage? Do you worry that I myself will cause the performance to go awry? Considering..."

The ghost froze in the middle of touching up his eyeliner, the applicator in his hand, concern upon his face. Then he sat the eyeliner pencil down, and reached out his paw to gently lift the poet's chin. He leaned towards him and this time Woodrow felt the soft kiss that covered his whole face.

"It's like I said earlier. You haven't ruined my show yet, and even if you did, I wouldn't regret a thing. No matter what, I would rather you were with me. Crowds and crews and even critics come and go. But I want you near my heart forever."

Woodrow returned several kisses onto the large face in front of him. Then he sat back in quiet contentment and watched Phantom make himself even more beautiful.

Before long, a stage-hand at the door called out a five minute warning. Phantom picked up his companion, and slid him into the pocket of his new vest; a new temporary home. And there, separated by a thin layer of cloth, was the heart and the body and the soul he hoped he could call home forever.

#mario plus rabbids #mario + rabbids #alter answers #phandrow #soh borrower au

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kitsumidori · 1 year

Text

This took so long! And the reason was that I keep getting creative burn-out.

I've been wanting to do a headcanon post for the main siren character's (excluding the Calypso's) and this took way longer than I thought it would.

Key note

Along with the tattoos, another noticeable trait is the elf-like ears, each in different shapes and lengths.

Like in cannon, only 6 women can become sirens. There were instances of fake sirens which were women using make up to make tattoos and fake elf ears.

Sirens have a slightly longer life span than most humans, likely due to their demi-god status.

For now, I don't have a lot of headcanons for Sirens specifically. If I have more ideas, I'll update this.

Lilith

She gained a slight mutation due to both the Eridium usages and the forced ejections by Jack.

Freckles because she looks cute with them.

(Also I remember her vaultlander figure description called her the most powerful ginger in the world)

Hates Scythids. When she and her team first encountered them, she immediately jumped on Bricks shoulder and refused to get off until those "cockroaches from hell" were gone.

Was caught one night having a secret tea party with Butt Stallion (In her defense, she wanted a pony since she was 7).

Immediately adopted Angel once the whole Jack is dead thing settles down.

Maya

She's terrified of heights (somewhat cannon from her Runner dialog) mainly uses her wings for combat.

Before she came to Pandora, her hair was so long, that it was starting to trail behind her.

She cut it to her main style shortly after arriving at Pandora.

Did at one point consider going back to Athenas, but after Ava's situation with those monks, she ultimately decided to stay.

Has the biggest ears out of all the other sirens, but doesn't like to show them.

Axton did call her Dumbo once, she suplexed him and no one dared to call her that again.

Has a surprisingly strong sense of smell (somewhat cannon in the Wam Bam dlc where she was able to sense Hammerlocks moustache)

Loves mangos, like REALLY loves mangos. Give her a basket full of them and she'll die for you (medaforicly)

Angel (TW: mentions of abuse)

The scar on her left eye was from Jack trying to install an Echo Eye on her. Her body rejected it and Jack didn't even bother to remove it.

When Lilith found out, her silent fury was loud enough to scare a flock of Raks.

Struggled with eating without throwing up during her recovery, took her awhile to eat solids.

Pre-rescued: Jack would constantly put make-up on her not only to cover the bruises he gave her, but to also cover her freckles, a trait she gained from her mother.

Similar to Lilith, she gained a mutation from the Eridium usages, but her's is more noticeable due to years of constant Eridium ejections.

A lot of her clothes were hand-me downs from Lilith

Tannis

Her Phasesight powers were originally Steele's. However since Steele never chosen a successor, her powers were given to Tannis.

Used her illusion ability to hide both her tattoos and her ears.

Acts as Angels crazy aunt, to which everyone is surprised that those two got along very well.

Amara

Is BBF (Best Buff Friends) with Krieg, Brick, and Mr. Torgue. The four did an arm wrestling contest that ended in a draw between Amara and Krieg.

Loves gummy candy, especially ones with fruit juice in the center. Moze would usually have a tin with her whenever she's with Amara.

(Speaking of which, don't leave a fruit drop tin alone with her, she'll devour them all in one sitting)

Ok I really doubt that Amara can even summon wings, but let me pretend because Amara with multiple wings sounds cool!

Ava

Her parents died not because she accidentally leached them, but because the monks of Athenas wanted to take her with a bullshit excuse that there's a great evil coming.

They didn't believe the monks, which caused them to take her by force.

It ended with the monks killing her parents, and Ava leaching the monks.

Has a pretty big appetite, likely due to her siren powers.

(But more like she'll sneak into the kitchen at 2am to steal food kind of appetite than draining people's souls)

Total cringe fail. But to be fair, she's 14, and 14 year olds are allowed to be a little cringey, as long as it's harmless.

Her siren wings are based on the wings Troy uses in his boss fight.

#borderlands #borderlands 2 #borderlands 3 #lilith the siren #lilith the firehawk #maya the siren #angel the siren #patricia tannis #tannis the siren #amara the siren #ava the apprentice #ava the siren #my art #headcanon #borderlands headcanon

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theknightofivanhoe · 9 months

Text

Justice League: Question’s Hard Drive Ch 4: Assembling the Team

Table of Contents

In a dark, dilapidated warehouse laden with dirty, rusted crates and oil drums, a tall, black-haired man with a thin moustache, wearing brown trousers and jacket over a black shirt was following another man whose jaw was as large as a brick, his hair neatly trimmed and chocolate brown.

“So Colonel…” the moustached man spoke up in a smooth, slightly deep voice as they walked on, “Been meaning to ask you something,” “What? Five years not looking attractive already, Lawton?” asked the brick-jawed colonel Rick Flagg, who did indeed wear the formal dark blue suit of a US army officer. “You ‘do’ remember the other option’s no years at all? I.E, years of having a head?” “Hey, I’m well aware five was the agreement.” the mercenary Floyd Lawton, codenamed Deadshot, clarified to him. “Just want to let you know,” he continued as Flagg led him on through the grimy building, “A little girl of mine’s just made it to eighth grade.” Flagg only inclined his head to the man, but turned back and kept walking. Floyd decided to prod a little further. “Surely it’d be possible to schedule a vi - ” “This is serious stuff we’re assigning you for, Lawton.” Colonel Flagg flatly interrupted him. “Missions for CADMUS leave no room for family reunions.” Halfway through walking, Floyd felt himself twitch in surprise and a certain amount of outrage. “Excuse me?” “You heard me, soldier.” Flagg stated, leading Floyd towards a table. “Just be glad your little tyke’s going places, while you stick to the task at hand.”

Despite the withering scowl on his moustached face, Floyd took a chair while his boss towered above him on the other side of the table. “So, what costumed chumps do I draw a bead on this time?” he asked, deciding to cut to the chase. “It seems our League friends have set out to hamstring CADMUS’ activities.” Flagg explained to him. “There has been a breach at one of our office buildings by two individuals connected to the League who have claimed valuable data.” “Any way we can track them?” Floyd questioned, deciding to push aside the whole daughter issue, for now at least. “We have already sent out recon units to pick up a trail just until a team can move in and recover this data.” Flagg told him. The convict/mercenary smirked up at the bulky, imposing colonel. “I was just gonna say, if they even get your info as far as the Watchtower, we’re basically asking to go through the last mission all over again.” “Glad you remember.” Flagg cut in with a growing frown. “And in case you forget, we’re one explosives specialist short thanks in no small part to your trigger-happy stunts.” “Okay, okay, I know, Plastique was a big loss. So any fresh recruits you’re calling in for this one?” Floyd asked, aware of Flagg’s rather low opinion towards him and others who operated outside the law. Flagg gave him an even darker look.

“Lucky for you, Lawton, CADMUS is sending you on this mission in good company, the sort that’s every bit the same lowlife criminal scum as you.” This idea of ‘good company’ got Floyd raising an eyebrow. “Once the data is tracked, you’ll be taking point while your mission leader handles everything else.” Flagg stated as he folded his powerful arms. “And this leader…” Floyd responded with a finger to his pointed chin, “Anything in particular I should know about him. Or her?” “Yeah, there is. That he’s had some previous…connection with one of our targets.” The colonel grimaced for a moment before continuing. “Also, I was against calling him up from the very start, but my superiors won the debate. *And* he’s someone I’m sure you’ll get along with. Famously…”

With a mind as sharp as his shooting, Floyd couldn’t help but catch something else in the colonel’s plan. “There’s something else too. Why does it somehow sound like you’re not gonna be on this one?” “You’re right actually.” Flagg grimly answered. “I won’t be joining you on this one. Getting this data back from these two Leaguers requires types that are too nasty even for them. And I don’t fancy mixing in with those who are nasty even by your…already low standards.” “Right. Don’t want the true American hero dirtying his patriotic pinkies with all the blood that comes with saving his great ol’ coun - ” Both hands smacking down hard on the tabletop, Flagg leaned towards the mercenary in aggravation. “Watch it, Lawton…” he snarled, the backchat grinding on his nerves. “I may be leaving you in this guy’s capable hands just in the hopes of wiping that stupid grin off your face.” “Boy, I can’t wait.” Floyd half-growled, sarcasm laced in his voice like poison in a dart. The colonel seemed to be restraining himself from physical violence, straightening and breathing in lightly. “Well, now that you’re filled in…” he said as his eyes darted past Floyd, “Your stuff is in that case.” The moustached assassin turned and saw a grey rectangular case on the floor. “The mission leader will debrief you on the data recovery, including what you’ll be up against. You’ll take a chopper and report to him at Miss Waller’s helipad. So get suited up, pronto.”

“So…heard you guys have had a little trouble with some data…” The tall, lanky-looking man, whose whole face was cloaked by the shadows of the half-lit office, threw himself back into a chair in front of a desk, behind which sat the short-haired, heavyset black woman smartly dressed in a blue jacket, Amanda Waller, one of the heads of the CADMUS organisation. The glow of her desk’s lamp reflected off the man’s hair, which was styled in a greased-up pompadour, while his eyes shone with a certain desire for some thrills and spills, possibly even for violence in the bargain. Behind him stood a tall, burly henchman.

“You heard correctly. This theft has been unlike any other mission the League has staged.” Amanda Waller informed the man sternly. “Previous activities have always ventured into reckless shows of force, teams of these abnormal beings and disguised vigilantes staging all-out assaults on whatever their enemies, including CADMUS, throw at them.” This man, who had been selected for this new mission, listened with merely a casual amount of interest, having heard news (particularly through the criminal underworld grapevine) about the Justice League’s attempts at heroics. “So what about this one? Please, indulge me” he persuaded with plenty of confidence and cunning in his smooth, charming voice, before the frowning, no-nonsense Waller set a folder onto the table.

“These two intruders left all of the building’s security personnel utterly incapacitated. Currently they are in traction.” she continued. “Did our gallant heroes attempt any negotiations before doing this?” the stranger inquired. “I have to admit, I’ve not known any of their type to get so down and dirty.” “Negotiations were never offered. Clearly the League has grown uncharacteristically desperate.” Waller explained as she looked from the man to the folder. “Those in condition to speak gave descriptions that match those of the individuals detailed in these profiles.”

She opened the folder and the pompadour-sporting figure turned his focus to the two sheets and photos of the perpetrators behind this theft. First was the man in the fedora and tie, his face completely blank, no eyes, nose or mouth anywhere. There seemed to be only skin where his face should be. The newly-recruited boss had heard of some guy like this snooping around a few streets and alleys before. What truly caught his eye, though, was the young woman in the other profile. Through that horned mask, her dark eyes held arrogant majesty and unbound ferocity in equal measure. Her proud, smooth face, around which silky black hair elegantly cascaded, was enough for him to simply lock his gaze upon her ravishing beauty, his eyes gleaming as thoughts started to pour into his mind.

“These two choices indicate how aggressive the League has become lately.” He glanced back at Amanda Waller upon hearing her further elaborate on the robbery. “Most dismiss Subject A himself as a crackpot, an eccentric digging into conspiracy theories that needn’t be dug into.” “And yet he has data too sensitive to your little operations.” the man reminded her, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly. “A colleague of ours, Roulette, recommended you for CADMUS because, young man, she has reason to believe that you have a past…” Waller went on, folding her hands together, “A past with Subject B; Subject A’s recent partner. She joined the League after your little encounter with her in Gotham City. Her days with the League ended when a vendetta of hers against another mobster turned her into a maverick, too unstable and rash, even for the worst of their circus freaks.” “I always liked that babe…” The lanky man’s voice grew silken with interest as he eyed the file on this ‘maverick’ his employer referred to. “I need you to be serious about this…” Waller warned him with a glare as the tall henchman’s eyes darted to his boss in the faintest hint of apprehension. “A pair of misfits not stifled by the League’s scruples makes the loss of this information all the worse. We are aware of what Roulette has said about you, but calling you up for this mission, mobster background or no, was not a decision taken lightly.” “Hey, don’t sweat it, your royal majesty…” the mysterious figure boasted with a raise of a hand. “You’re looking at the guy who offed his own outdated uncle and gave the Gotham syndicate a new face. The old timers have had their fun, now it’s time for us daredevils to step into the spotlight. Just give me any more tips, say, their whereabouts, and we’ll be onto the suckers, packin’ a lot of heat…” “Well, someone’s eager for some action.” Waller observed, placing the profiles back into the folder.

“CADMUS has assembled the strike team that will retrieve this data. With your rise through the ranks of the Gotham mob and previous experience against Subject B, you’ll be taking the lead.” She pressed the touchscreen computer on her desk and a screen on the wall behind her lit up all ghostly-blue.

The stranger glanced up at the five mugshots of this new team he would be in charge of. First was a man in a dark red bodysuit and silver mask, his left eye lens a white slit while the right was a circular orange targeting reticle. The second was a young Asian woman with short, neat black hair, a cold expression on her face and a crimson transparent visor over her eyes. Her shoulder armour, coloured the same as her visor, was segmented not unlike that of a Samurai warrior while a katana was slung on her back. The third was another man in a pale grey bodysuit, his whole face obscured by a mask sporting dark red, bug-eyed lenses and a pair of small antennae on either side. The next team member was stranger-looking; a slim, white-skinned man in a black top hat and dark grey jacket. The round black shades only added to his sinister appearance. Even more abnormal than him was the last member, who apparently had once been a human woman. Every inch of her skin was coated with golden fur, speckled with brown spots. The team leader noted the woman’s ears that took the form of a wild cat’s, her nose shaped into a snout and white eyes with pale green slits hungry for action.

“Well the pyromaniac hasn’t the best track record, but they’ll do.” he commented with folded arms. “Deadshot, Tsukuri, Firefly, Shade and Cheetah have been selected specially for the purpose of tracking this data, in addition to having prior engagements with the League.” Amanda Waller explained. “For a mission as sensitive as this, CADMUS has no room for small-time roughnecks.” “Trust me, lady,” her new employee promised with no small amount of pride. “With a rising star, that’s me, at the helm, these guys will really turn things around for your little operation.” “And remember, my friend…” Waller started methodically as a sliver of blue from the screen flickered across one side of the man’s face, “It’s not often we call on those from the criminal underworld to protect this country and its government…” “Well today we’re the lesser of the two evils, ma’am.” Waller just kept her stern face on this man despite his interruption and continued. “At this critical inflection point, money is no object for CADMUS. Whatever happens, this mission must, and ‘will’ end with us having that data right in front of us. You and your team shall obtain it from those two misfits…by ‘any’ means necessary.”

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

#dc comics #dcau #huntress x question #helena bertinelli #vic sage #amanda waller #floyd lawton #deadshot #the question #justice league #justice league unlimited #bruce timm #jlu #dc animated universe #fanfiction #fanfic #dcau fanfic

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ten-thousand-year-elegy · 1 year

Text

Lorepost: Chapter Sixteen, “Leap of Faith”

By popular reader request, TTYE lore posts are companion pieces for each chapter of the story breaking down all of the Legend of Zelda lore and references made in each chapter, for readers looking to learn more about LoZ or just refresh their knowledge. This chapter contains explanations for: Bokoblin Dinner Dance, Koroks, and the Hero’s Shade.

Bokoblins Dancing

“What were these little assholes doin’ out in the middle of goddamned nowhere?” Jounouchi muttered, wiping the blood off his axe.

“Enjoying their dinner,” Yuugi said sadly. He always felt bad killing bokoblins, especially after he’d learned that they had an adorable habit of dancing around their campfires after a particularly good meal.

Yup, it’s true. Bokoblins like to dance when left to their own devices. It’s extremely cute. The sick rave music is not canon.

Koroks

Koroks have been around in several Zelda games. They are little forest spirits who live under the guardianship of the Great Deku Tree, aka this guy:

Yup, that is a large talking tree with a moustache. He presides over the forest where the Koroks live. The Great Deku Tree also has a special connection to Link himself. In The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time - set long, long before most other Zelda games - the Koroks were called the Kokiri, and appeared as small children instead of wooden sprites. Link was raised by the Great Deku Tree as a Kokiri until discovering he was actually a Hylian, and would thus grow up, unlike the rest of his friends.

(If you’ll recall, in the jungle Anzu dreams about a little girl named Saria, who was Link’s best friend - Saria was a Kokiri.)

The Koroks travel all over Hyrule and only make themselves known when they want to. In this case they have an instinctual love of Saria’s Song, which makes them trust our heroes enough to show themselves.

The Hero’s Shade

“I don’t really know,” Eri said helplessly, waving her hands. “He just used to take Link to another place to train him - some kind of foggy alternate Hyrule - and he’s…um, he’s tall, and mostly made of bones, and he wears armour…”

“Great,” Kaiba muttered. “So I’m being followed by a lich.”

“He’s not a lich,” Eri protested. “He’s Link. An older incarnation. He chose to forego the afterlife to guide newer incarnations of Link on their adventures.” She turned to Anzu. “He’s the same Link from your soldier dream.”

This spirit is Link from Ocarina of Time. He shows up in The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess to train the Link from those games in the ways of swordsmanship. It’s never explicitly confirmed in-game that he is Ocarina of Time Link, but it’s practically canon. I also gave him a wee bit more personality than his in-game dialogue :)

The “mistakes” he is referring to are a fascinating part of the story in Ocarina of Time. In this game, Hyrule’s downfall is brought about directly by Link and Zelda when they are children - no adults trust Zelda’s visions about the Gerudo prince Ganondorf, and so she and Link take matters into their own hands to try and outwit him. In the process they accidentally allow him entrance to the Sacred Realm, where he is able to get his hands on the Triforce and cause immense damage. As adults Link and Zelda must fight on in a doomed Hyrule to reverse the catastrophe and make things right. At the end of that game, Zelda sends Link back in time to relive his childhood as an act of charity.

As the Hero’s Shade explains to Kaiba:

“We were young,” the Shade said quietly. “So young, although that is a meagre excuse for the mistakes we made. Zelda…she meant only to return to me the childhood that I had lost. She sent me back seven years. In doing so we split the branches of Time itself - and thus her Hyrule was robbed of its Hero, condemning it to be flooded and born anew, while in my Hyrule I roamed with an endless restlessness until my quiet and unacknowledged death.” He sighed. “And in yet another timeline we were both of us defeated, murdered and divested of our pieces of the Golden Power, allowing the Demon King to create a dark, twisted realm that was almost Hyrule’s undoing.”

The doomed Hyrules he is referring to are The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker, and the Dark World from The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past.

#ttye lorepost

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kharti · 1 year

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[ In Over His Head #124 ]

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To the Gentlemen of the Revenge

You are cordially invited to Madame Raupert’s gala on the Selene.

( Continue reading on AO3 or... )

To the Gentlemen of the Revenge

You are cordially invited to Madame Raupert’s gala on the Selene.

Drinks, food, dancing. Formal wear required.

Stede and Ed read the invitation over two more times before setting it on the desk and looking at one another.

“It has t’be a trap,” Ed said.

Stede shrugged and tried to smile in spite of his own reservations. “It could also be a sincere invitation. And you do so enjoy a nice party.”

“I like crashin’ them. Don’t know ‘bout this formal invitation business.”

“And after all, who invites bounty hunters to a gala,” Stede muttered, running a hand over the hint of a moustache growing along his upper lip.

There was a long moment of silence as the two pondered the piece of paper, until Ed threw his hands in the air.

“Fuck it! Let’s go, and if anythin’ goes wrong, we set the ship on fire.”

“A fairly foolproof plan,” Stede said with a quiet laugh. “I was hoping you might agree. I enjoy seeing you dressed up.”

Ed gave a little waggle of his eyebrows. “All y’have to do is ask, Lamb, an’ I’ll dress up fer you any time.”

“I know, I know, but it’s more fun this way.” Stede stepped in toward him, tilting his head and looking up into his eyes. “I get to show you off.”

Ed rumbled something like a purr in his chest as he cupped Stede’s face in both palms, kissing him softly and leisurely. Then he pulled away with a frenetic energy and went over to the lever for the not-so-secret wardrobe, grinning wildly. “What’re you gonna wear?”

“I was thinking my turquoise suit. With the lace.” Stede smiled from the doorway while he watched Ed rifle through the hanging clothes. “I always enjoy seeing you in purple or red.”

“Purple or red,” Ed repeated in a quiet mutter, grabbing a suit in one hand and another in the other. He went over to the full-length mirror so he could hold each one up, alternating between them both with indecision in the furrow of his brow.

“We could do your hair up in ribbons, if you’d like.” Stede’s face lit up with excitement. “Oh, you’d look dashing with some ring curls and ribbons!”

“Ring curls?” Ed finally looked away from his reflection to stare at him.

Stede tried to mime the tight coil with a swirl of his fingertip. “They’re—well, why don’t you let me put one in and you can decide then?”

Ed nodded and went back to his suits before finally putting the purple one back in favor of a deep burgundy frock.

“First,” Stede said, making his way out of the closet, “we’ll need to get your hair damp, and then detangle it… I’ll get the conditioner and comb!”

In no time at all, they had one lock of hair tied up in a tight knot, Stede explaining each step while he took utmost care with Ed’s hair.

“How do y’know all this?” Ed asked, looking at the little bun knot in the hand mirror. “Never seen y’do this on yer own hair.”

“Oh.” Stede hesitated, then answered quietly, “For a while, it was how I tried to bond with my daughter. But she didn’t care for it the way I wanted.”

Ed didn’t say anything, just looked at him through their reflections in the mirror.

“Which is fine, of course! She preferred her mother’s hair ministrations to my own. All she wanted from me was to leave her alone.” He sighed, shook his head, and set the comb down on the side table. “I really was a poor excuse of a father.”

“Well, if it makes y’feel better, there’s much worse fathers out there.”

Stede paused before he broke into a quiet laugh. “I suppose that is true. In a way, to do think leaving them ultimately was the best decision. Mary, at least, has found a much happier life in my absence.” He leaned down to kiss Ed’s cheek. “And I’ve found my happiness, too.”

“Mm.” Ed leaned into the press of lips, turning his head to catch them with his own. “Come on, then. Show me these ring curls.”

“Ah, yes! Well, these won’t last very long, as they prefer to sit overnight to really set in, but you’ll see what I mean.” Carefully, he undid the knot and let the hair unwind itself into a tight coil of a curl. “See?”

Ed reached up to toy with it, pulling on it and watching it spring back into place. Then, slowly, he grinned. “Hell yeah.”

“Yes?” Stede smiled brightly. “You like it?”

“Love it.” He gestured at the whole of his head. “Come on, then. I want t’see it all like that.”

( next )

📚 view a list of all my current stories!

#our flag means death #ofmd #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #ed x stede #in over his head - blackbonnet ficlets

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arcade-writing · 2 years

Note

hear me out.

Sitting on Jake's lap like an eye candy/escorter type of situation, and hes smoking (most likely a cigar come on we all know that last scene needed it.) he keeps teasing the reader blowing smoke on the face while they tell them to stop it, but he keep doing it and chuckling, reader starts teasing him back (*cough cough grinding on that dick*) and he just goes "you do know where this will go dont you sweetheart?" or some shit like that. and fucks reader silly. possibly some dom acting, maybe pinning reader on the couch and fucking from behind yk? maaaybe some possessiveness, just want to se the man feral yk?

-Elisë

You got it~ I got Jake brainrot and needed an excuse to write more about him. I really shouldn't be surprised this has taken over my brain so much. I can't seem to watch a series without getting overly attached

Smoke and mirrors

🍋NSFW

pairing: Jake lockley X fem! Reader

Warning: possessive behaviour, readers a brat, you use a fake name, dirty talk in Spanish, jerking off, quick blow job, rough angry sex, mirror kink, semi public, alot of Teasing, sadistic Dom! Jake, some degrading, overstimulation, fucks you until you're sobbing and can't take anymore

Reader wears a dress and heels but isn't referred to as a female and Antomy is kept vague

This fic is pretty long so I've added a mark to where the smut begins for anyone who just wants to skip ahead!

You look at the clothes hugging your figure. Empathising traits you already had whilst covering others you weren't too fond of. Your legs always looked so much nicer in heels but they were very unpractical. You knew you could run in them but that wasn't enough. You couldn't risk breaking an ankle on a mission just because you wanted to look pretty.

"The final touch."

Jake appeared behind you, a golden necklace in his hands. You stood as he put it on you, clasping it before his hands smoothed over your shoulders. Your fingers lightly grazed it; it was one half of a moon. You glanced down at Jake's own necklace, it was the other half.

You smiled as you kissed his cheek. Running your hand over the new scruff on his jaw. You turne to face him properly, wiping your thumb just above his lip.

"They're finally growing it out?"

There was the beginning of a moustache. It was thicker than usual whilst his beard was still trimmed. Jake would complain he missed his old facial hair but it wasn't as if he ever fronted long enough to grow one out for himself. Besides, he liked to keep his existence as vague as possible to the two other men.

"They better." He grumbled, placing his hands on your hips.

He gave himself a double over. Combing his hair as he looked at himself through the mirror. Always keeping one hand on you as he did. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, smiling.

"Are you ready?" He asked and you nodded. Taking one last look at yourself before looping your arm with his. He whistled as you left the small apartment, grabbing two coats on the way out.

As soon as you arrived it made sense why you were both so dressed up. The place was massive, glass ceiling and water fountains galore. Jake opened the door for you and you both walked in. How he could get to these kind of places was beyond you. There had to be talk of him in the criminal world.

"Don't say a word, darlin', tonight you're eye candy."

"Easy, I'm that everyday."

You winked at a security guard near by, he tipped his head to you with a smile. You made sure to take note of his face: just incase.

"Yeah but you also don't know when to keep your mouth shut." He kept his words in a low whisper. He didn't even look at you as you both faced straight ahead.

You gasped, faking offence as you pressed a hand to your chest. "You wound me, Mr lockley."

He cringed at the formal title. Rolling his eyes as he walked you through the large corridor. Finally reaching the central hall. The smell of alcohol assulted your nose as you held back the instinct to wince. There were trays of champagne being handed out by diligent waitors. A whole table of foods that cost more than this entire outfit.

Your target was no where in sight. You only glared at the crowd of people, none of them resembling the host. Here you assumed he'd be walking around, greeting his guests but Instead. There wasn't a trace of him. Just fools gambling and discussing bussiness. If they were not doing that then they were getting drunk as they stuffed their faces.

You hated missions like this.

Jake leaned his head towards you, eyeing the crowd. You were still latched to his arm as you sat besides him. Circling your fingers on his chest through his black shirt.

"We got our boy, 10 o'clock."

You followed his gaze and there he was. You took the mental note to complain more, it seems to work in your favour.

The host was making his rounds, finally greetings everyone but as soon as his eyes looked onto you two, he was rushing towards you.

You both stood up, jake held out his hand for the man to take. He eagerly shook it with both hands. You scanned him up and down. He was fairly older man, already greying and wore a prestige red suit. His hands were smooth and nails cleanly cut. Meanwhile Jake had much rougher hands, cuts all over them. Two men of high contrast and yet the other man looked at him as if he was an equal.

"Lockley! Good to see you again, old friend!" He gave his hands another shake before he gestured his hands towards you. "And who's this?"

"My date." He said plainly, squeezing your arm.

"You never turn up empty handed, do you?"

The older man laughed as he shook his head. A mischievous grin grew on his wrinkled face as he looked you up and down. "Got a friend?"

You hid your disgust. You and Jake sharing a knowing look. This was definitely going to be something you ranted about when you got back to the car.

"Just me." Jake chimed back in, not giving you a chance to speak.

As if noticing this Paul, you learned his name when given the mission, completely turned his attention to you. Pulling your hand to his lips as he planted a quick kiss on your knuckles.

"You got a name, sweetheart?"

"Liraz." You kept your voice sweeter than sugar, making sure to linger your touch with his as you gave him a bashful smile.

The meaning of the name didn't get missed. Jake held back his amused smirk as he looked at Paul. You felt a shimmer of pride watching his usual expression crack.

The night went on with you and Jake sticking close to your target. Listening to his endless boasts and speeches as he showed you around. Introducing you to his other friends and partners. You made sure to put on a show, flashing your best smile to them all. Giving each man a taste of your attention. Squeezing and touching their arms, complimenting them on their hair and cologne.

You had this in the bag. Meanwhile Jake was growing more impaitent. He didn't want you to speak, knowing you'd get like this. All flirty with everyone you could wrap around your finger. Charming your way through every crowd. It was one of your best qualities - it's why he picks you for these missions but he couldn't keep the anger that boiled in his viens down. It burnt his very being.

Jealousy was an ugly trait he was more than aquinted with.

As if noticing his rising stress, a waitor came over and offered him a tray of cigarettes and cigars, difft lighters lined perfectly next to them. He took a cigar from the tray, they were already snipped, letting the waitor light it from him. He chewed at the end as he inahled a deep breath of smoke.

You were pressed to Paul. The older man's arm squished against your chest as your hands ever so tightly trailed his body. Paul was smiling at you as you laughed at his comment. Making sure to put more force into it as you patted his chest. Acting as if he was the funniest man you've ever met.

Suddenly, you fell onto Jake's lap. You glanced back at him seeing his grumpy expression. You couldn't help but scoff through your nose as you got comfortable. Thankful how thick his thighs were as you crossed your legs. He wrapped one arm around your waist to help you steady yourself.

This act didn't go unnoticed by the others at the table. Some were disapproving whilst others saw it as amusing. The table all drank meanwhile Jake's hand moved under the slit of your dress, nails dragging against your thigh as he rubbed circles into it. As if trying to soothe himself. Thanks to the height of the table no one could see but even if they could, you doubted they'd care.

"Close your legs." You muttered, feeling your legs go dead.

Jake huffed as he sat straighter, no longer exaggerating his man spread. Helping you get more comfortable as your legs now straddle his. You leaned to the side to make sure he was still visible. He hugged your waist he listened to the people's conversion. Tracing their words into your skin to memorise it.

He let out a long drag of his cigar, blowing it towards your face with a small grin. You blew it away from you with your hand, matching his expression as you squeezed the hand on your waist.

As the conversation went on, you took his place in listening in. He talked with a lazy tone; always pushing the conversion back to them. You piped up whenever you saw an opportunity. Making the men puff their chest as they boasted about their newest bussiness.

Whenever you talk Jake would blow smoke into your face. You wanted to snap at him as the smell engulfed your senses. A slight sting to your eyes but you settled on a much more acceptable response. After all, they knew you as his date.

As he blew another puff you grabbed his chin, a tight grip to warn him of your growing aggravation. Even if you couldn't bring yourself to ever be truly mad at him, he knew not to test you too much. His eyes widened for a second as your lips pressed against his, the smoke pouring into your mouth. It was disgusting. But you leaned back to your original position, exhaling it out quickly to the side.

Jake's grip on you tightened, causing you to completely lean on him. Your ass brushing his crotch as he clinged to you.

You had a weird taste in men. You had to admit. This kind of thing always got to you. His possessive nature kicking in and making him hold you close. Wanting to show you off. You were sure if he could he would cover you in hickies everyday to make sure people got the picture but that wasn't possible. It made you shiver with delight as your heart raced.

Your body was moving before you could even think. Your slowly rolled your hips back as you grinded against him.

"¿De verdad quieres jugar a este juego, cariño?" He mumbled, eyeing the others to make sure they couldn't hear him. (Do you really want to play this game, honey?)

His teeth clenched around his cigar as he placed his hand on your lower stomach. Helping you keep a good pace. A reminder to not get lost in the feeling.

"You gotta tell me, Lockley, where did you find this one?"

"A warehouse."

They all snickered, believing his dead tone to be sarcasm. You stiffened as you stared at them. If only they knew that was exactly where he found you.

"Give me the location and I'll see if they got any Liraz in stock." One of the men spoke up, at the end of table. He also had a woman with him but she looked much more miserable than you felt.

Jake sucked in a breath as he gripped your hip. Moving your hips for you. You couldn't say you were that shocked. But apart of you was grateful. You tried to only focus on the stimulation you were receiving. Your nails digging into his leg as you forced back a moan.

Jake's dark eyes shot over to him. His brows scrunching slightly. Saving the conversation in his mind and his face. He tapped your thigh three times; a signal to a possible new target.

"Unless, you're willing to give me yours, I'll pay you generously." The man kept his tone light, able to pass it off as a joke as the others looked between you two amused.

Another one chiming out they'll pay double. All laughing at eachother. You and Jake both knew this was a table full of scumbags. All of them - this entire mansion was filled with them. Every guest was apart of some sort of organisation.

"You couldn't afford." His accent was thicker than ever. A sign of his anger rising. "None of you could."

You bit your lip as you felt him get hard. A wick joy came over you knowing if you moved it would be visible for anyone to see.

"A one of a kind, huh? How unfortunate." The man at the end of table spoke. He sounded disappointed, as if he truely believed Jake would give you up.

Your movements stopped. Fighting back a frown as you looked down at the man's hands. It made you sick to your stomach. The man beside you didn't even need to look at you to know you felt. He caressed your thigh as he hid behind you, just enough to kiss your shoulder. You immediately melted. Letting out a breath as he whispered against your skin.

He took another drag of his shrinking cigar. It was on its last life as he kept the smoke in with clenched teeth. He blew it towards you once more, your lips immediately twitched. Before you could even retort he chucked the cigar bud into an ash tray.

"I need some air." Was all he said as he stood up. Causing you to stumble off his lap. You didn't even need to worry about covering him, he kept his grip on you tight.

"Oh? Something the matter, friend?"

Paul asked, looking genuinely worried. He seemed like a nice guy when he wasn't having innocent people killed to grow his bussiness.

"Too much smoke."

The host called over a guard, asking him to take you two to one of the nearest bedrooms. He turned to you clarifying it has a balcony. You nodded as Jake whisked you away. Walking with one single thing in his mind.

*~~~(smut here)

As soon as the door closed behind you, he was shoving you towards the lounge chair in the middle of the room. You landed with a small oof. Jake knocked on the wall and paused. Locking the door as he started grinning to himself. He looked back at you with a wild look in his eyes.

"Take off your clothes."

You stuttered out a noise of suprise. You really shouldn't be. You knew exactly what doing that would do. You couldn't stand being in that room and all you wanted was to focus on him. The target could wait. You had all night to blow this place up.

"you heard me. i told you to take off your clothes."

His voice was deep. It made you shiver as you fumbled with the zipper at the back. Practically throwing the dress off as you kicked it to a random spot on the floor. Your heels flying off with it.

"All of them."

He didn't move an inch. Watching you as you took off your underwear. Moonlight pouring in through the balcony was the only source of light you had. Just about able to see his face as he stood in the shadows.

The cold air nipped at your exposed skin. Fingers digging into the cushion bellow you. Waiting with baited breath for his next move. The first thing he did was throw off his jacket. His footsteps echoing through the room as you looked up at him.

He curled a finger towards himself and you immediately followed. On your hands and knees before him, he didn't say anything. Still figuring out what he wanted to do with you. Your hands wondered up, unbuttoning his shirt one by one. Trailing your fingers along his exposed chest as you took his shirt off.

He snarled as he looked down at you. Yanking his pants down just enough to free himself. It slapped your cheek making you gasp. He pulled your head back with a tight grip, his other hand began pumping his cock.

"Apologize."

"For?" You grinned as his brows scrunched.

"Don't be a brat."

He hissed out. His climax already reaching its peak. Just dangling off the very edge as he squeezed along his cock. Thrusting into his closed fist as his thumb caressed the tip.

Jake grunted as he felt the band in his stomach tighten. “open your mouth-!"

You glared at him in defiance. He pulled your head back rougher this time. You let out a yelp as he pushed the head of his cock to your lips. You opened your mouth as wide as you could as your tongue rolled out. Sending him right over the edge as he spilled on your face.

But that wasn't enough. He pushed your head down, you sucked on the head with a moan. Slurping as much as you could to get every last drop.

You knew he was going to be rough but this? Oh it was amazing. You bopped your head up and down as you hummed. Swirling your tongue as he fought back cumming again.

He pried you off. You were grinning whilst he breathed heavily through his nose. Calming down his nerves as you gave his dick little kitten licks. You knew you were testing his restraint. But you couldn't really care. He wanted to be annoying? Well, now it's your turn.

Your back landed back on the sofa. He climbed over the arm of the chair to join you. Standing on the cushion, still looking displeased. You held back a snicker as you wiggled your hips. His eyes immediately following your movement.

“Be a good slut and spread your legs” He tapped your leg with his foot. Shoes still on. Despite your attitude he was still putting in faith you'll do as he says.

He knew exactly what you wanted. You wanted him to control you. No matter how bratty you behaved, it was all a plea for him to fuck you. You both knew it. It's why he coud keep some form of paitence. It was all but a game of back and forth.

You stretched out, humming as you arched your back Getting more comfortable as you rested your head on the pillows by the other arm of the chair. Jake scoffed as he muttered something to himself. You were too happy to care for what he said.

Spreading your legs to reveal your arousal. As he began to bend down you rubbed your foot up his thigh. He grabbed your ankle to keep your leg in the air as he finally kneeled. Nudging your other leg to move further.

You felt completely exposed like this. Gasping as his fingers circled your hole. Cum still sticky on his hand. You tried to hold back your moan as you looked at the door.

“These walls are pretty thick." He pointed out, chuckling to himself as he pressed one finger into you. "Means you and i can be as loud as we want, tesoro.”

You let out a hum as your back arched. Your hands unable to decide where to go, trailing them up your body as you squeezed and brushed whenever you could. Knowing that Jake would want nothing more for your hands to be his.

"Seems like you're more eager than I am." You grinned, pointing down at his cock. It was red with need as it stayed pressed against his stomach.

Your grin was completely slapped off your face as he thrusted in a second finger. Sliding them in and out as he worked you open. Knowing you'll need prep for you could take him fully. Your mouth was stuck as an 'o'. His fingers moving quick and deep inside you.

"what pretty noises you're making for me… am i making you feel good?"

He plunged until he was knuckles deep. Keeping them there for a few moments as your legs twitched before he moved once again.

Your head rolled back as your back arched more violently. His fingers just brushing that sweet spot. Your rolled your hips hoping he could reach but it was futile. But what surprised you was that you caught your own reflection. You could see what he was doing, just about, watching his fingers slide in and out of you.

“i love the way you look with my fingers inside you."

You mewled as you shut your eyes. Your hand rising to cover your burning cheeks. Looking back at him. His eyes were focused on what he was doing, licking his lips. He glanced up to see your face hidden.

Jake put your leg to his shoulder as he reached out. Moving your hand away as he pinned your wrist to the sofa.

"don't you hide that cute face from me, ¿No quieres verme?" (Don't you want to see me?)

He teased. Prodding a third finger you squirmed away as you felt completely stuffed. You doubt you could take anymore but it felt so good. He could reach so deep like this and with three fingers - oh god he was filling you up. But it only made you feel more desperate to have him actually inside you. His dick would feel so much better than his fingers. It could actually reach that spot that made you see stars.

He suddenly pulled out. You let out a whine as you grabbed at his wrists. Unable to reach due to your position. "No-!"

He just grinned. Aligning himself to your entrance. Never putting himself in, just rubbing it against you.

"Want it? Does my little slut want my big cock? Want me to fill ya up, Mi amor?"

You shook your head. Brain buzzing as your words died in your throat. You wanted him so bad but you refused to admit it. Still wanting to aggravate him. You couldn't stop it. It was so much fun to watch him lose his composure. To utterly take over your body and use you as he pleases.

"No?" His grin began to strain. "Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

It was so easy to push his buttons. Your stomach fluttered as he glared at you.

"Like you're going to die if I don't fuck you."

He took hold of your hips as you were suddenly flipped over. Pulling your butt towards him as your head was propped up by the pillows.

You wiggled your hips as you rolled them back. Brushing yourself against his needy cock. He let out a groan as he finally pressed himself in. Barely giving you time to adjust before he thrusted forward.

"¿No es esto lo que quieres? ¿Por qué si no te mueles contra mí como una puta, HUH?". (Isn't this what you want? Why else would you grind against me like a fucking slut, HUH?!)

His thrusts were violent. Your body jolting forward with each one. You clawed at the sofa as you bit your trembling lip. Oh god it felt so good! You loved it when he was like this - so cruel. So selfish with your body.

You needed more!

"¡Obligándome a ver cómo coqueteas con todas esas escorias con una sonrisa en la cara! ¡Sabiendo exactamente lo que me hará!". ( Forcing me to watch you flirt with all those scumbags with a smile on your face! Knowing exactly what it'll do to me!)

He grabbed your chin, making you lock eyes with yourself. You could see his expression as he fucked you. Baring his teeth as he glared down at your body with nothing but pure hateful desire. He wanted to ruin you. Leave you sobbing and begging for his forgiveness.

A sadistic smile grew on his face as he made sure you were watching him. "This is the face of a bitch who's only talent is taking dick."

You clenched around him, his words going straight to your crotch. You flashed him a large smile as you mouthed 'hi'. He growled as he slammed his cock back into you making you let out a scream.

"Sigue gritando así, amor, y tal vez alguien entre". (Keep screaming like that, love, and maybe someone will come in)

You both knew that wasn't going to happen but the slight chance made your heart skip a beat. Fear and excitement rushing through you as you couldn't stop the loud moans spilling from your lips.

You were completely his. No one else's. You couldn't imagine anyone being able to make you feel this way.

"¿Quieres eso? ¿Quieres que la gente vea lo bien que te follo? Que todos sepan que eres mía". (You want that, you want people to see how good I fuck you? Let everyone know you're mine)

"Oh god- yes-! Jake you fucking own me-!"

He pulled your back to his chest. Your hands held you up as you gripped the sofa. He kept his hand tight on your chin as he nibbled your ear. Trailing kisses down your jaw before biting down. You cried out as he sucked on the mark.

Jake let out a shaky moan as you clenched. Being able to hit your g-spot from his position. Your body bounced as you were left to be fucked like a toy. His hips slamming up into yours. Skin smacking against each other drowned out from the noises you were making.

"You like it when i fuck you like this? yeah you do." His voice was gruff as he became breathless.

He joined you in watching your reflection. Loving the way he could see himself fuck you. Watching his cock disappear into your hole. How sloppy it sounded. How good and warm you felt.

"Oh cariño, puedo sentirlo-". (Oh honey, I can feel it)

His hips stuttered as the familiar knot in your stomach tightened.

"¿Quieres correrte? Puedes hacerlo, córrete en mi polla.". (You want to cum? You can do it, cum on my cock)

You moaned as your nails dug into the fabric. Your breath knocked out of you as you felt your climax crash over you. Sensitivity creeping as he made no move to stop. Chasing his own desperate release.

He was still hitting your insides so deep. You trembled as you slipped from his grasp. He kept his hands to your hips as you used the sofa as support.

Jake was no longer seething with jealousy. He hasn't been for awhile. He just enjoyed making you like this. But that doesn't mean he won't punish you for being an a brat this entire time.

"you can give me another one, can't you toots?"

He bit down on your shoulder. You let out a cry as your second climax ripped through you. You were far too sensitive now. Unable to catch your breath as he stayed relentless. You could hardly move. Limp as you tried to squirm away. Your mind unable to tell what it wanted as you rolled your hips. It felt so good but it was too Much. Your skin was on fire.

"Hurts-!" Everything did. The iron grip on your hips. The bites he left on you. Your head from where he yanked you around. Your jaw and throat were sore from how much you've screamed. The pleasure was painful.

Deliciously painful. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you whined.

"aw, it hurts?" His voice soft as his hands loosened. He kissed your shoulder, exactly where he bit it. Whispering words of encouragement as you moved your body in time with him.

You nodded. Letting out choked sobs as he kept drilling into you. It wasn't long before his movements became sloppy. Growling and grunting as he chased his release. Pressing against you as he finally came. Cum filling your worn out hole causing a third climax to be time from you.

Before he shoved your hips back. Taking in his entire length after he pulled out. "What a shame, you're gonna keep taking it until i’m satisfied, got it?"

He pulled out with a sigh. Helping you lay down more comfortably. Cradling you close to his chest as you panted. Your legs were shaking and twitching.

"I'm sorry...." Your voice came out meak. Unable to muster your voice anything above a whisper. "I love you, im yours."

Jake kissed your forehead as he ran his hand up and down your hips. "It's okay, I love you too."

You snuggled closer to him, smiling as you finally felt content. Jake let you rest, waiting until he heard a soft snore before redressing himself. Folding up your clothes and placing them near by. He looked down at your underwear, pocketing it before he finally wrapped a nice blanket around your sleeping form.

He gave you one last kiss before he took out his gun. Checking it's bullets as he marched out. Making sure to check the lock. It was time to fulfil his duty and he didn't need you to see the destruction he was about to bring.

#moon knight jake lockley #moon knight jake #jake lockley moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockely x reader #jake smut #jake x reader #moon knight episode 6 #moon knight x reader #moon knight x y/n #moon knight #moon knight smut

722 notes · View notes

transias · 2 years

Text

honest with me. (I)

pairings: spider-man!miguel diaz x reader

warnings: none!

summary: you've been in love with your best friend, miguel diaz, ever since he moved to queens. after spider-man saves you, you have your suspicions on who the masked hero might be.

note: so funny story, i found this edit on pinterest (i don't know who the original editor of this is im sorryyy) and it just gave me the idea to make this! i will also be writing for jaime reyes/blue beetle. i have an imagine in my drafts!

i will be basing miguel's spider-man on andrew garfield’s but apart from that it’ll be mostly similar to tom holland’s. will also be moving them from california to new york for obvious reasons.

miguel diaz was undoubtedly the most amazing person you ever met. so were your friends hawk and eli. although, there was something that set miguel aside from them.

maybe it was the way he always knew the right thing to say. or maybe that electricity that shocked you whenever you were walking next to each other and accidentally graze your hands together.

you looked up at miguel, his eyes fixed on samantha larusso. you knew he had a crush on her, even openly talking about it in the group during lunch.

it broke you. you weren't as rich as sam, you didn't consider yourself as beautiful as her, and you didn't think you were as smart as she was.

the bell loudly rang, snapping you out of your thoughts. you closed your books and shoved them inside your backpack, walking with miguel to the cafeteria where you both sat down and waited for hawk and demetri.

you took a sip from your chocolate milk, looking up to see miguel staring at you.

"don't tell me i have a milk moustache." you chuckle, raising your fingers to check your upper lip.

miguel chuckled and shook his head, "no, you look fine i was just uhh-" miguel looked past you, "just looking at those pigeons."

you looked back at the pigeons and furrowed your eyebrows, it was definitely strange. he wasn't looking at those pigeons, he was looking right at you.

"yeah, yeah... the pigeons." you nod.

hawk and demetri come at the moment, saving miguel from further embarassment.

hawk rambling about how he got into an argument with the history teacher, mr. arnold, over the assignment.

you weren't paying attention though, and by the looks of it neither was miguel, whose eyes you felt stare at you.

you look back at him and gave him a warm smile, pretending to listen to hawk, who by now was done with his rant. "anyways, i was thinking we could go to moon's party tonight?" hawk added.

"isn't it a school night?" you ask.

"well yeah, but that's how you know it's gonna be the cool people only. all the losers are gonna stay home studying." hawk replied.

demetri, miguel, and you looked at each other and then back at hawk.

"dude... we're all staying home and studying tonight, we have a math test tomorrow." demetri remarked.

"come on guys! we haven't done anything since like a month ago! demetri's always studying, (y/n)'s always working, and miguel is... well i don't know! what is it that you're always so busy with?" hawk asked.

miguel's shoulders went stiff as he looked around and stumbled for the right words, "i uhh- well i'm helping johnny out with his work."

you called bullshit. everytime one of you asked miguel to do something with him after school, he always used johnny as an excuse.

johnny was a nice guy tho. he and carmen had gone out on a disastrous date but by the end of it, she decided to give him another chance. ever since then, they had been absolutely inseparable.

"seriously, i think hawk's right. we need to hang out again! we always see each other in school and text but we should do something awesome together!"

the three boys agreed, "then it's settled, we'll do something this weekend."

miguel was gone before the final bell even rang. demetri, hawk, and you looked everywhere for him but like always he was nowhere to be found.

"screw it. let's just do study group at his house!" demetri exclaimed.

miguel's grandmother- or yaya, as he called her- answered the door, allowing the three of you in and offering a huge amount of food for all of you.

you sat down on miguel's bed, smelling strongly of him. you closed your eyes, a memory of the first time you met triggering you.

when miguel had just moved here, you were the first friend he made.

you lived in the building across to his and worked at the small coffee shop near those buildings.

miguel walked into the shop, quickly entranced by your beauty that he didn't notice you asking him what he wanted.

"sorry? oh yeah! i just wanted a donut please." he nervously smiled.

you nodded, "sure. what kind?"

"which do you recommend?" he inquired.

you leaned in closer, "between you and me. these are all stale and sort of disgusting. but the donut holes aren't so bad."

miguel laughed softly, "then i'll take some of those."

you nod, quickly ringing his order up. "alright, that'll be $6.29 please." you gave him a tight lipped smile.

miguel quickly took out a $10 dollar bill. while you handed him his change you looked up at him, "you're new here, aren't you?"

he nodded, his dark curls bouncing along. "yeah, how did you know?"

you shrugged, "it might be a very large city but we all know each other around this community." you retorted, "i'm (y/n), by the way." you offer your hand to shake his.

he looks at it before looking back at you and shaking it, "i'm miguel. nice to meet you, (y/n)."

you wrote down your number on a piece of paper, "i know it can get quite overwhelming around these parts. you know, being new here in such a big place. so if you ever wanna hang with me and my friends, you just give me a call."

a wide smile grew on miguel's lips, "that would be awesome! i'll definitely take you up on that offer. thanks a lot, (y/n)."

you nod, "it's no problem. see you around."

"(Y/N!)" demetri belted, “are you still with us?”

you cleared your throat, “yeah! i was just distracted, thinking about stuff.”

“they’re thinking about how they want to make out with miguel.” hawk butt in. you and demetri just groaned and shook your heads. you gently kicked him and went back to your work.

“oh look! spider-man just stopped a robbery at that convenience store we always go to.” demetri showed us his phone.

you and hawk leaned in, “he’s so cool.” you awed.

“dude, what’s your obsession with spider-man?” hawk asked.

“he saves the city, keeps all of us safe, and he’s got cool superpowers!” demetri replied defensively.

“seriously? anyone can do that. shit, i could do that!” hawk scoffed.

you shrugged, “i don’t know, dude. you’re really underestimating spider-man, he’s pretty cool.” you replied, “plus, i think it’s kind of heroic and hot what he does.”

“oooh, you’ve got it bad for spider-man, don’t you?” demetri teased.

you chuckled and shook your head, “no! well maybe yeah but it’s still super awesome!”

“you both are dorks.” hawk shook his head, going back on his phone to text whatever random person he was texting.

as you finished studying, hawk decided that he’d leave since he’s rather hang out with “hot babes” than two losers. demetri was next, his mom called him over for dinner.

that left you alone in miguel’s room. you stood up and yawned, stretching as you walked over to miguel’s mirror.

there was a picture of him hanging by the mirror. you sighed, “hey miguel. did you know i’m like probably deeply in love with you it’s pathetic? yeah, i know you like sam and you’ll probably never wanna see me again but… i just thought you should know that.”

it really was useless in your opinion. the way you were always pining over him when he was already pining for samantha larusso.

you sighed, packing up your stuff and saying goodbye to miguel’s yaya.

the thoughts of miguel still pestered your brain as you walked across the street, looking for your headphones. no matter how hard you tried, they wouldn’t go away. you didn’t even notice the reckless driver in front of you.

it wasn’t until you heard the horn only a few inches near you that you were absolutely paralyzed.

your thoughts quickly faded, chills ran through your body, and as much as you tried, you just couldn’t move out of the way.

was this really it? were you about to die without telling miguel how you felt? the butterflies he incinerated inside you?

a pair of arms swooped in, your legs left the ground and a small yell escaped your lips.

you landed on the sidewalk in front of your building. “holy shit! oh god, what the hell?” your breathing got faster and you felt like you could faint right here, right now.

your eyes darted in front of spider-man, who had his hamds around your waist. “(y/n)! are you alright? that was really close!”

your eyebrows furrowed and you nodded, feeling something extremely familiar about spider-man. “yeah! i think i’m alright- wait, how do you know my name?”

spider-man froze, “well uhh- oh! i know your friend, miguel! i’ve heard lots of good things about you.”

an idea clicked into your head, “oh, you know miguel? tan skin, dark curly hair, and extremely handsome?” you fought the smirk that threatened to form your lips.

“y-yeah! yeah, that’s him! you think he’s handsome?” he asked.

you nodded, “totally. he’s so handsome, intelligent, and charming. but don’t tell him i told you that!”

spider-man nodded in reply, “of course! your uh, your secret’s totally safe with me.” he chuckled.

you heard a gunshots and sirens coming down from the street. “i gotta go! just stay safe and look both ways before crossing, okay?” spider-man yelled as his hands ripped from your waist.

“bye spidey! thanks for saving me!” you waved, watching as the masked hero swung away.

maybe you were a bit woozy from almost getting splattered across the street but you were 100% sure of this.

miguel diaz was spider-man.

#cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai headcanon #cobra kai x reader #miguel diaz #miguel diaz x reader #miguel diaz x you #miguel diaz x y/n #miguel diaz imagine #hawk x reader #eli moskowitz x reader #xolo mariduena x reader

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demoneyesanddamagedsouls · 3 years

Note

Neck kisses headcanons, please! With Jack, Frankie, Javi, Oberyn and Pero 😁😁😁 I love getting neck kisses and kiss people's neck too 😍💋

Hi Anon!

Omg I am obsessed with this request! Neck kisses and bites are honestly my favourite things ever!

Here is how I think all of the boys would enjoy this headcannon... I hope you enjoy them!

|| Writing Masterlist ||

***

Jack (Whiskey) Daniels

Loves giving neck kisses, his favourite thing to is surprise you with gentle affection, coming up behind you while you’re cooking and peppering your neck in kisses until your squealing as he tickles your skin with his adorable moustache, attacking your neck then making his way up towards your cheeks and then pulling you around gently to place his soft lips on yours as he pulls you close.

This man is mouthy enough as it is so he loves to sweet talk you, his voice dripping in honeyed southern drawl, as he presses delicious kisses up your neck, ghosting over your skin with his gentle breaths making your skin prickle and your face flush at his words.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest thing on God’s green earth baby…”

“My precious little angel… what would I do without you.”

“You’re my everything darlin’…”

It makes you melt as he showers you in the sweetest praise. He loves how your body reacts to his plush lips pressing against the soft skin of your neck. He can’t help but smirk slightly, but most of the time a huge beaming grin rests across his face. All he can think is that he’s the luckiest man on the planet to be able to call you his.

Frankie (Catfish) Morales

Frankie is an absolute softy and just adores any attention you give to him, lapping up every possible opportunity to be with you, he cannot believe someone could love him as much as you do. You rest in his arms in front of the tv, curled up into the soft crook his neck and you give him gentle kisses across the top of his chest, his neck, his jaw, anywhere you can reach. All you want to do is shower him in love and affection that you know he hasn’t received enough of in his life.

You love to comfort him especially in his sleep when he is having nightmares or flashbacks of what he’s been through. You are always there by his side reassuring him that your there with any gentle caress or touch you can possibly give him.

He is a very openly affectionate man so whenever he sees you he’ll pick you up gently kissing up your neck as he holds you from behind, holding your body tight to his as he drinks in your scent and your warmth. Treasuring being able to have you so close, especially after any of his trips away or even just a long day of work. He relishes in every single moment with you.

Javier Peña

Javi loves the feeling of your lips, and you love to kiss him, everywhere you can. You love to press your lips into the soft skin of his flushed and slightly sweaty skin after a long day at work tracing over his neck and shoulders, as he runs his hands through your hair. He relishes in your every touch, you ground him, bring him back to earth after everything he’s been through. You’re his tether to reality.

He also loves to cover you in gentle attentions, his lips desperate as they trace your jaw, your neck, your forehead, especially at the base of your throat peppering your skin with soft gentle kisses as he coos at you sweet murmurs of praise, revering in the fact that he is lucky enough to have you. Loving to kiss your eyelids gently as you fall asleep in his arms, your soft snores making him smile as he watches your chest rise and fall. Someone so sweet and kind after dealing with the true scum of the earth.

Sometimes when you’re walking in the hot sun of the day or in the soft glow of moonlight in the evening, out on a date or just spending time with each other he’ll pull you in by your waist, whisper gently in your ear and kiss you just beneath it on the pulse point of your neck, making you blush at the attention you were drawing to yourselves just because Javi just can’t keep his hands to himself.l You wouldn’t have it any other way though.

Oberyn Martell

Oberyn is a truly giving man, he is completely enthralled with the shape of your neck, how it glistens with soft beads of sweat in the warm sun as you stroll through the gardens. He is reverent, tracing every single detail of your neck and jaw with his soft lips. Mapping out your small freckles, the lines of the taut muscles, the hollow of your throat everything he can possibly reach. He loves to give you beautiful jewels so he has an excuse to caress your neck as he places the necklaces around your soft skin, tracing the beautiful, intricate, colourful jewellery with his soft lips, ghosting small breaths across your clavicle. He loves to trace your face, your jaw and your throat with his fingers. Watching your skin shine in the golden light of the sun. “You look like sunshine incarnate… the gods would be jealous of your beauty.”

He loves to feel your lips on his jaw, his neck, his chest. Soaking in every touch as you shower him in adoration. The devotion that his kingdom gave him was nothing compared to what your love felt like to him. In either giving or receiving these attentions he relishes in your enjoyment and pleasure found in the actions, infatuated with how you react to every movement, every touch.

Pero Tovar

Pero does not quite understand the concept of neck kisses, until you give him a timid hickey amongst your kisses on the side of his neck. He’s so used to pain being violence in the heat of battle, but you show him these small pricks of your teeth followed by gentle kisses, can create pleasure from slight pain.

After that he cannot get enough of kissing and biting your neck, marking you up and soothing the reddened skin with his soft lips. His kisses ravishing and bruising as much as they are tender and gentle. He loves stroking the taut skin of your neck and the soft curve of your jaw as he admires you in the warm candlelight of the evening. Tracing his gaze across every small detail of your skin. And he also loves when you kiss his neck as well entranced with how your soft lips make him feel. He’s secretly soft and gentle, but only for his love. He loves to give you gentle caresses in secret when no one is looking. And now that he knows you love kisses just under your jaw, he sneaks soft kisses there with his warm plush lips whenever he walks past you in the hallways. William catches him once and teases him about it forever. But he does not care, he knows just how much you love it so he will do it forever.

***

If anyone wants other characters feel free to ask I am more than happy to add to these xxx

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels #pedro pascal character headcannons #pedro pascal headcanon #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #javier pena #javier pena x reader #oberyn martell #prince oberyn #oberyn martell x reader #pero tovar #pero x reader #neck kisses #sweet anon

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Unexpected - Part 2

King Caspian x Reader

Summary: What happens if you push the respectful and well-behaved King Caspian a little too far? You’re about to find out.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly a mix of fluff and angst with some lemon zest 🍋 Friends to Lovers AU.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including debatable consent at first, mutual adolescent exploration of bodies, loss of virginity and oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My video edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

For the next few days after your reunion, you noticed that Caspian had found various excuses to visit you in the smaller study next to Cornelius’ study, where you were busy trying to bring some order into the chaos that reigned in that equally small space.

He never stayed for too long, but instead just seemed to want to talk about your days as childhood friends and you were happy to indulge him. Cornelius had put his head round your door on a couple of occasions to see what all the noise was about, and withdrew smiling to himself. You got the impression that he was happy you were here and talking and laughing with Caspian.

You also couldn’t help but notice the lingering looks Caspian was lavishing on you. Not sure in your mind if he was just pleased to see a friendly face from the past or…. could he be interested in you? Was that even a possibility?

How could you even try to find out? You couldn’t exactly ask him, could you. “Oh good morning, your Majesty - pray tell me, are you attracted to me?” You shook your head at your fanciful thoughts, put them out of your head! Turning back to the pile of books and manuscripts which you had to catalogue, you let out a long sigh.

“Are you becoming overwhelmed, my lady?” said Cornelius’ voice, and you looked up in surprise to see his kind and smiling face opposite you. How did he do that? Just appear out of nowhere. You smiled back at him, “Oh no, Professor - I just have one or two things on my mind.” He nodded, “The King?” smiling even more broadly. You felt your face burning with a blush and you hastened to say, “No! Not the King. I was just thinking about.. about what I shall wear tomorrow. It is a daily dilemma for ladies.”

Cornelius gave you a mischievous grin, “Ah, I see. Pardon my confusion, my lady. Yes, I can see how that would present problems. Men have it so much easier.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Continuing to think about your actual dilemma once Cornelius had left, you eventually came up with a plan. Unsure how good a plan it was, but you’d try it out for a little while and see if you got a reaction from Caspian. Any reaction.

You’d made a couple of acquaintances amongst the other ladies of the court since you arrived, but you certainly didn’t know them well enough to discuss your plan with them. And besides, in one way or another, all the young ladies at court were trying to win Caspian’s attention so that was another reason you couldn’t confide in them.

Deciding to put this plan of yours into action the next time you were alone with Caspian, you squared your shoulders and delved back into your world of cataloguing.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Caspian was also sighing out loud in his chambers. He put aside the intricate document he was supposed to be reading. He couldn’t concentrate properly, not when all he could think about was her. Wondering if she’d noticed his numerous and reasonless visits to her chamber, interrupting her work to talk about… well, nothing really. Silly things they’d done while they were children. He hadn’t talked to her about one thing though, which had always been at the forefront of his mind. Did she remember it too?

═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°══ ══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°══

In his mind’s eye he was back in the orchard with her, the sun beginning to dip in the sky, dusk fast gathering around them. They hadn’t seen each other for several months. At the time, Caspian had not long turned 14 and she was just about to. He’d gone through puberty the year before and he knew she’d noticed the wispy moustache on his top lip and the fact that he now had a deep voice. She’d asked him about it more than once and his face had burned, he hadn’t known what to say.

That day, they’d both collapsed under one of the pear trees, having exhausted themselves as usual rushing around between the trees like maniacs. They lay on their backs, looking up at the beautiful colours the sky was beginning to turn. She turned her head to him, “Caspian?” He looked over at her, smiling, still getting his breath back, “Yes?” “When you got your moustache, was that you becoming a man?” He felt his face redden as it did whenever she brought up this topic. He looked away but decided to respond to her for once, “Yes, I am a man now.” “As of eight months ago, I became a woman,” she said proudly, before sitting up and pulling down her loose embroidered top, “Look!” Caspian shot up into a sitting position, unashamedly staring at her newly rounded breasts, bared for his eyes only. His mouth dropped open and he felt a distinct stirring in his breeches.

She leant even closer to him, whispering, “I think you should touch them, Caspian! And I want to see yours,” she nodded her head towards his groin. He could hear himself beginning to pant slightly and his hands - seemingly of their own accord - reached out and massaged her breasts. He loved the feeling of their softness and the buds of her nipples against his palms. Then she moved back from him, “C’mon Caspian, it’s your turn!” she demanded, curiosity burning in her eyes. Shyly, Caspian sat up on his knees, unlacing his breeches and pushing them and his underwear halfway down his thighs. His manhood was revealed in all its erect glory.

Staring at it, she squealed, “Oooh! It looks like a big sausage! With a fur cape round its neck!” He snorted in embarrassment, saying “It’s just my dick,” and beginning to pull his breeches back up, but she stopped him by taking hold of his manhood in both hands and examining it closely. “Your dick?” His eyes were closed in pleasure, he couldn’t believe how good it felt to have her hands on him. “That’s what all the men call it,” he managed to say, opening his eyes and looking down to where she held him in a firm grip.

”Oh, okay, I’ll call it that too then.” She squeezed it, then ran her hand up its length before placing her fingers in a ring just under the head. She was staring at the reactions on his face and listening eagerly to the soft low moans he was making as she touched him. “Oh, your dick is so hard!” she exclaimed, “…but the skin feels velvety soft.” “It’s not always hard,” he whispered. “Why’s it hard now, then?” she questioned. He shrugged. “Don’t know,” he lied, just as she slid a hand between his legs and took hold of his balls. She roughly pulled them towards her for a closer look and he yelped in pain, so she loosened her grip on them slightly. “Sorry, Caspian! What are these?” she asked, rolling them in her palm. “My balls,” he muttered. “Well named!” she laughed then suddenly let go of him, leaning back a little. She lifted her skirts and pulled her French knickers down, “This is what mine looks like.” Caspian’s eyes widened once more.

They were both up on their knees again, facing each other. She had quickly taken hold of his dick again, liking the feel of it in her hand. Once again, his eyes closed and he groaned, much to her pleasure. Then he’d reached out and hesitatingly placed two fingers between her legs, starting to explore, and when he found what felt like an opening, his curiosity sparked and he began pushing one of his fingers inside. She jumped back, scolding him, “Caspian! That’s naughty. I think you’re meant to put this…” she tugged on his length, “…inside there, not your finger!”

She shuffled closer to him until their knees were touching, and she pulled his manhood nearer her opening. They gazed at each other, “Shall we try it?” she asked. Caspian really wanted to but…. the decision was made for him as she tried her best to push his dick inside her, eventually managing to get the head and just a little of his shaft inside. She continued unsuccessfully to try and push more of it inside and Caspian was whimpering by now. “Oh! That feels…” she started to say but Caspian suddenly sat back, pulling out of her. “I’m scared we get caught!” he confessed. She shrugged, “You’re a big scaredy-cat!” and instead began firmly rubbing her hand up and down his dick to see what would happen. A little liquid began to leak from his tip and she stared at Caspian’s flushed face and screwed-up eyes with fascination. His own hand joined hers for a few moments, and he encouraged more speed and a firmer grip out of her before his hand fell away. A few short moments later, she found out what the result was.

Caspian gave a loud groan and grasped her arms, then she felt more wetness on her hand. She watched, mesmerised, as thick pearly white liquid shot out of his dick in several spurts, landing on her skin, glistening in the dusk light. She shocked him by leaning down to smell and taste it. Musky, salty. How strange, she thought. Caspian hurriedly wiped himself with his underwear and tucked himself back into his breeches, quickly doing up the laces, while she cleaned her hand on the fabric of her skirt and rearranged the rest of her clothing too.

They looked at each other guiltily.

“We must never speak of this,” whispered Caspian, to which she nodded. “Never, it’s our secret. Swear on it.” “I swear,” he answered, “now hurry, it’s almost dark - they’ll be looking for us soon if we’re not careful.”

He’d taken her hand and they’d run through the apple and pear trees until they reached the castle, sneaking back in, thankfully unnoticed.

═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°══ ══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°══

Caspian jolted out of his daydream. That was the only remotely sexual experience he’d had in his young life, what with having to run for his life and then fight a war. He’d never ever forget it. Nor the girl he’d shared it with.

Sighing again, he tried to ignore the erection he now had and picked up the document again, beginning to read although he couldn’t even remember where he’d got to originally.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You had purposely chosen a dress with a scooped - but not too scooped - neckline. It was all part of your plan. Caspian was almost guaranteed to visit you, he usually appeared in your study at some point every day.

There was a light tap at the door and Caspian came in, smiling at you and wishing you a good morning. Returning the greeting, you got up and went to the small table in the corner to pour some freshly-made lemonade for the two of you. Caspian was perching on the edge of your large and heavy desk which took up most of the room, his long legs apart. You carried the two glasses over to him and walked right between his legs as you offered him his.

You saw his eyes widen and immediately you moved backwards, smiling wide-eyed and innocently at him. “Did you sleep well, Caspian?” He blushed and you hid a smile. Still the same shy boy, you thought. “Uhh… no, not really. I was bothered by dreams which I couldn’t escape. So no, a restless night.”

You gave him a concerned look, “Ohh… I will have to come up with something to help you sleep well, Caspian.” His face became even redder, “I… uhhh… I… well, that would be good. What do you suggest, my lady?” You leaned forward, ostensibly to gaze into his eyes, and those eyes immediately went to your cleavage as you’d intended. Leaning back, your innocent smile in place, you pronounced, “I shall prepare some lavender extract for you, which you should sprinkle on your pillow. It will ease your mind and help you to sleep.”

Caspian took a huge gulp of his lemonade and you couldn’t help but notice how tight a certain part of his trousers had suddenly become. “That sounds most pleasant,” he choked out, “…and now I’d better go! I believe there’s a meeting I must attend.” You pouted, “Oh, such a shame. We’ve barely spoken, Caspian.” He stood up, “Yes, a great shame. We shall talk later!”

And with that, he rushed out of your study.

Sipping your lemonade, a little smile made it onto your lips. That had been… interesting.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Caspian sank down onto his knees in his private bathroom, having had to almost run there after he’d left her study. He’d ripped the lacing on his trousers open and taken himself in hand as soon as the door had closed behind him and now he groaned, looking down at the mess he’d just made.

Wearily, he got to his feet and found a linen cloth, cleaning himself up before going back into the main chamber to find fresh underwear to put on, he’d leaked into the ones he’d had on.

He gazed out of his window, thinking that he’d have to show a lot more self-control in front of her in future. He was supposed to be a King, after all. Not a horny teenage boy. But by Aslan, that’s exactly what he felt like.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#king caspian #king caspian x reader #king caspian fan fiction #king caspian imagine #king caspian fanfic #voyage of the dawn treader #ben barnes

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

Note

In the ball, Doctor!Reader was holding a fan, light blue dress. Reader surprised that Laszlo just came. Reader wants to tell Laszlo that you are private secretary for the Queen and still doctor. Laszlo was surprise as such much. You were talking about why I become private secretary is that the father was captain for the Queen. Laszlo feel the sorry about father of yours. You give sweetest compliment to Laszlo. As Laszlo approached to you closely. Just a lips were attach each other. They are chuckling how precious it is.

(thank you very much for writing that headcanons, you are such sweetest! mwah )

Worlds Apart [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Doctor!Reader]

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: no warnings, but a very interested Laszlo

Author’s note: hope you enjoy my little product here, <3

A ball is always a lavish event, like it or not, it never failed to impress you the extremes people were able to reach in the name of luxury and social status.

You fanned your way around the room, your light blue dress meeting the lights would shine of a proper life, reminder of the clear blue waters you travelled to come to the event.

You weren’t fond of social events, not because you weren’t used to attend one, but you were hoping to meet someone in particular during this visit in New York. Once you found yourself in such a peculiar moment of your life, you also found yourself guiding your own thoughts on the memory of a man in particular that crossed paths with you a number of times.

“Doctor Y/N” the British ambassador smiled “have you adjusted yourself to the party?” He asked, being your escort for the evening, but also a dear friend of your family he relied upon himself to be your familiar face for the evening.

“How can somebody not adjust to a party of this measure?” You asked back at him making him chuckle under his big moustaches.

It was when he was about to introduce you to the tenth diplomat of the evening that something attracted your attention. You couldn’t really put a finger on what it was, a movement, a gesture, something that you saw in the corner of your eye.

When you finally recognised the familiar figure you were looking for, you two met in scientific meetings, then on few private dinners and occasion, a man hard to forget, hard to let the experience of him and his ways not get into the way of judging any other man that ever approached you.

A man like him shouldn’t fear comparison.

You excused yourself politely as you approached him, but he already saw you. It was impossible to miss a sight like yours.

“What a surprise, Dr Kreizler”

Laszlo couldn’t hide his own amazement, but the way you approached him mesmerised him already, a smile curling onto his lips showing the undeniable pleasure he had from seeing you.

“Dr. Y/L/N” he said with a smile approaching you “I didn’t expect to meet you here, I thought you were staying over in England”

You smiled “I was, I came for some diplomatic matters”

He was once more taken aback, a soft blink of his eyes, his head lightly titling on side.“Never thought I had to thank any European diplomacy in my experience, until now”

You smirked, he wasn’t a cheeky man, but he knew how to show his interest.

He leaned aside as a waiter passed by with a tray of champagne glasses, Laszlo picked one handing it to you as you let your fan hang by the lace that held it to your wrist. He collected a glass for himself as he leaned on his side offering you his right arm for you to hold onto to walk around the party and also leave the centre of the scene.

“My condolences for your father” he said quietly, of course the news reached him and he sent the kindest letter to you in that grieving occasion, but he wanted to taste the water and see how you were dealing with it. One could call it an occupational hazard, but it was more than that to him.

“Don’t dwell onto it, my father had a long and fulfilling life, one that a daughter is proud to share” you assured him and he nodded taking in your words.

“His role as Captain General of Queen’s guards granted me a new occupation as Her Majesty’s secretary, a role that I wouldn’t have achieved without the countless hours of work and devotion he spent to her service”

Laszlo nodded quietly, part of him despising a bit your father’s good diligence to his role, because that same gift he gave to you also brought you far away from him. In another country, somewhere that made it only harder to him to reach you, but not easier to forget you.

“And what about your professional career? Have you given up the alienist in you?”

You smiled and shook your head

“How could I? Bad habits are hard to erase”

He chuckled as to call your shared doctorate a bad habit was probably the most appropriate definition considering how he got tangled into solving murder cases because of unsolved mysteries into his professional studies.

“How is it?”

A simple question that nevertheless put you in a space of silence for few moments.

“Not easy” you said at first “I mean, the thrill is the amount of new people to meet, the experiences, the different cultures, it is like travelling around the world without leaving my office, scheduling talks and meetings, learning about foreign politics”

“And the less thrilling?”

You chuckled as he just had to do it, he just had to find the little ‘but’.

“Less thrilling, the amount of etiquette and how something we read as normal can be mistaken by other eyes”

He nodded as he listened carefully to you, the wonder still in his mind if even coming from the same background he could still be misunderstood.

More than him, his intentions.

He stared at you as your little stroll brought the both of you to more quiet surroundings, the chats fading slowly in the background, while the music was a more pleasurable companion to your little conversation.

A sense of urgency creeping over him, the need to ask you how long were you staying, if you were going to leave any time soon, if there was time, any time, left.

“I have read your latest articles” you said and he blushed visibly not expecting you to have done so, distracting him from his doubts and wonders.

“For real?” He asked a bit more innocently than he intended, naturally flattered by your admission.

“I did” you assured him “I am collecting them, you’re becoming quite famous in your field, the benefits of your job must be showing on every child that has the luck to be relied into your care”

By now his smile was permanent, that inner sweetness he so hard defended shining bright onto him only by naming ‘his’ kids.

You admired his devotion to the Institute, his dedication to help them, always reaching beyond his own possibilities.

“Don’t look at me like that” he said only.

“Why not? Have I lied?”

“You’re being too generous with yours words”

“And you too miser about it”

He smirked once more as he couldn’t possibly win against you, guiding you among the luscious flowers display of the decor he stopped resting his untouched champagne on the edge of a vase to take your hand.

“How long can I benefit of your presence, my dear?”

You were surprised of the nickname, he was burning bridges, but who wouldn’t when fighting against time.

“I will be staying two more weeks”

He smiled, his thumb slowly tracing the back of your gloved hand.

“It seems a lot and nothing at the same time” he assures to you, your smile playing onto him with untold feelings that he hinted so many times, it felt almost foolish to even express them with else than actions.

He leaned in, a sudden lack of courage creeping in until your eyes met his, the certain feeling to be corresponded warming his chest.

Your neck stretched out a bit toward him as he slowly closed the space between your lips.

There, hidden among the luscious flowers coming from the far east to adorne a ball, you found yourself welcomed by the loving certainty of Laszlo’s affections.

No more hinting, no more hidden sweetnesses and tender talks.

You felt true and real, you felt like life could welcome you again after all the changes and the grief. You never realised how unsettled you felt, how much you were waiting for it, until your lips parted.

He looked down at you as your lips granted him another smile and soft chuckle.

The happiness you felt in this moment never been so real, so pure.

The honesty of his feelings leaving you doubtless.

It was a matter on what country you were, but who was with you.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @celtic-witch-bitch Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

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