#and then they go up in a trio so it mirrors it

[raileurta]

Well this post got me thinking about how the humans would react to Raf's death. It also would not be pretty to say the least.

⚠️ Trigger warnings in the tags ⚠️

Both Fowler and June are devastated at the loss. He was just a kid involved in war he shouldn't have been anywhere near. I bet for the longest time they would blame the Autobots for the loss and resent them for it. They would also become extremely overprotective of the other kids. Especially June who was already protective. This whole thing made her lose complete trust in Arcree's ability to protect Jack. (The femme bot doesn't blame her for it) She would try to keep Jack away from the base for any excuse. Logically she knows he is technically safer there but her heart is too scared of being away from her kid. Fowler also can't help but agree with her. He is much more aware and strict about the kids now too. He was even tempted to sorta kidnap them and send them to a secret base in Washington or something. For now he is going to have the kids being monitored 24/7.

Jack is depressed as hell to say the least. He blames himself for not being able to protect Raf. He was the one "meant" to stop their trio from being hurt and he failed. It cycles through his mind constantly on what he could have done to prevent this, how he could have been better, why wasn't he better?

Jack visits Raf's family a lot and tries to help them any way he can. He feels like he has to atone for his failure in some way. Then when that doesn't work to help free himself of the guilt he would resort to "punishing himself." I'm pretty sure you can figure out what that entails..... 🔪

Jack also is much more aggressive about preventing Miko's reckless behavior. He will tackle, and even restrain her to prevent her from potentially getting herself hurt. They have many arguments now and aren't really on speaking terms. He will text her a lot though just to see if she's alive, Miko will always respond no matter what.

Miko at first just went into shock. Her mind went into a complete shutdown. For two days she barely spoke, ate, or just did much of anything; once the shock wore off though she exploded. She ripped off the posters off her walls, broke everything in sight, screamed, cursed out the world, and even smashed her hand through her mirror. Once the adrenaline wore off she clutched her bleeding hand and sobbed. She doesn't know how long she sat there crying but by the time she was done her hand had stopped bleeding and she was covered in dried blood.

Miko stared at her arm the glass embedded in the skin, and felt nothing but seething hatred for Megatron. It wasn't the kind of usual fiery animosity she held towards the man but a freezing loathsome whirlwind that had frozen itself across her entire body. This wasn't some superhero show anymore, where the hero would defeat the villain in a spectacular explosion of power but a cruel war that was going to end with the excruciating death of Megatron.

She planned, rewrote her plans, researched, planned again and did more research. For one of the only times in her life Miko didn't rush into something. Megatron was going to die and there couldn't be any way he would survive or somehow come back from death again. Miko had to make sure it was perfect, Raf deserved it she almost religiously thought. Early into her plans Miko recruited Bumblebee into helping her. The scout hated Megatron just as much as she did. Bee told Miko everything he knew about how Cybertronians could be hurt and the ways to do it. The autobots always feared transformers tech landing in human hands and they had a great reason to do so. Humans had remarkable twisted minds that could think of things that would disturb even some of the most callous of bots.

Miko is no different, especially when she is motivated by pure unfiltered hatred. It took many sleepless nights and three months of preparation but they finally had everything ready. They just had to wait for the right opportunity. By this point bumblebee's anger has calmed down slightly and he was now starting to doubt if they should really do this. The consequences could be disastrous.

You see Miko had realized scraplets or the rust plague couldn't really hurt her so she could easily use them to defeat Megatron. So she has been breeding scraplets, training them, and trying to selectively breed them so they would be able to resist the plague. Miko had the scraplets micro dosed with black energon so they would crave the stuff and be more powerful. Bumblebee would obtain metal for them to eat and he tried to make sure the other autobots weren't catching on. Once they could get on the nemesis Miko would command the scraplets to infect as many bots as possible. They had made around 100,000 of these suped up mega disease scraplets so there's basically no way anyone is escaping uninfected. They were basically sentencing every decepticon to death.

Bee questions whether Raf would want this and Miko just replies,

"It's not about whether he would want this or not but what Megatron deserves and he deserves to die. If I have to kill every decepticon to do it? So be it. I don't care what happens to them, every bot on that ship is a horrible person. "

He reluctantly agrees with the reasoning and continues with the plan.

After the ship would go down a infected wounded Megatron escapes the scraplets his priority would try and cure himself. When he tries to make it he's in for a horrible surprise; while they were preparing the scraplets they had also set out to purposely destroy ingredients essential to the cure (They of course made a lot of vaccines themselves) Any place he might look for the ingredients he would just find a data pad stating,

//Start message

"Hello Megatron, you may not remember me but I do. My name is Miko nakadai, and I was a friend of Raf, the human charge of bumblebee that you mercilessly had killed. He was just an innocent child but you didn't care, why would you? You're the powerful evil overlord of the decepticons, the bot who strikes fear to every Cybertronian who knows of you. Humans are nothing but organic trash that would be crushed under your foot. That's not going to be the case anymore. You're going to care, you're going to see what you have done, and you will regret having ever laying a figure on Raf. You shouldn't have messed with humans and you especially should have not messed with my friend.

If you don't want to die from the rust come to the coordinates X"00'X0.x" alone and we will provide you a cure. Also don't even think about contacting the other Autobots or you can kiss that vaccine goodbye."

//End message

Megatron then would come to meet Miko and Bumblebee. They would talk/integrate Megatron about Raf. Then Miko would pull out the apex armor, activate it and fight Megatron with Bee. If all goes well they kill him (maybe torture him a bit before that) and drop his remains on Raf's grave.

When they do get a hit on the Nemesis location they slightly panic and rush to get things in order. When they are ready the ground bridge opens and as they are about to leave they hear Ratchet say,

"I should stop you shouldn't I?"

The old bot is standing behind them looking at the ground bridge location pinned in on the nemesis. Miko and Bumblebee don't know what to do for a second before Ratchet's words register in their minds.

Should? They think.

Ratchet monologues for a bit about how stupid, dangerous, this is and how he should stop them from doing it. But..... he opens his servo to look down at Raf's broken glasses. He just can't. Ratchet looks at them tears streaming down his face. The same look of pure hatred in his eyes and demands to be there to help kill Megatron. Miko and Bumblebee look at him, they both just simply nod.

Nobody had said a word about it but they all knew no matter what happens Megatron has to die. Even if that means destroying themselves in the process.

They enter the ground bridge together.

Wow that sorta mini fic came out of nowhere. I'll leave it up to your imaginations on what happens next. Thank you @lets-try-some-writing for the inspiration.

Follow me if you want to see the future stuff I write. ✌️ 

[nfcv-saltmine]

I don't want to spoil your fun, but seriously? THIS is your favorite screenshot of the show? THIS is the big moment that makes you like their dynamic? It says a lot. Sorry but I'm going to be mean. It's nothing personal, I just so happen to have a very different opinion from yours.

Let me re-contextualize: Trevor just told Sypha and Alucard his tragic backstory. How he was a kid when his family got killed by the very people they were trying to protect. He spent his entire life after that, alone. No one to help him survive. He had to do it all himself, and due to this extremely difficult life, he became a rude alcoholic. But a rude alcoholic who still ended up going out of his way to help people. He doesn't know Sypha nor Alucard, and yet, he still brings them to the ruins of his childhood home, a place you can guess he doesn't visit often! And he leads them to his family's most precious secret. Centuries worth of knowledge and artefacts. This is an ENORMOUS deal. He's ready to go as far as expose his own vulnerability and risk to compromise what is left of his family's legacy, for the sake of saving people.

And what is the first thing Alucard does?

This. He insults Trevor's entire lineage. He insults his dead family to his fucking face. He sees the treasures accumulated and used to save innocents for centuries, wich was hidden behind a magic seal because of how precious it is... and he shits on it. KNOWING how damaged Trevor is after losing the same fucking family he is insulting with no remorse. And it's supposed to be quirky and funny because Alucard is Traumatized? TREVOR IS TOO. And do I have to remind everyone that Alucard himself commented on "having more of a childhood than him"? He knows what he's doing.

And the worst part is: Trevor is being incredibly calm here. He doesn't throw a punch, he doesn't scream, he just whispers to Alucard to shut up after he has been nothing but condescending to his whole bloodline, which honestly must be pretty triggering to Trevor so kudos to him for not getting more violent! But the MOMENT he stands up for himself because Alucard just can't stop spitting on him and everyone he ever loved and everything he and his family ever worked on, Sypha stops him. Trevor is shown to be in the wrong. Trevor is the one who needs to grow up and ignore his bully. He needs to be the better man. Friendly reminder that the worst thing Trevor did to Alucard was joking about Dracula teaching bloodletting to Lisa.

And that's not all! After Trevor did all this for the sake of saving the world, Alucard dares to call him, behind his back, "unreliable". AND HE ADDS MORE TO IT by calling him "emotionnally damaged" as well, because apparently that's something he should be ashamed of! Ah, but yes, it's actually funny because you see, he too is emotionnally damaged and probably projecting and scared and doesn't know how to deal with his own trauma... well I don't give a single shit because the cunt never once apologizes. We don't see him, at the end of the show, telling Trevor "btw I'm glad you're alive and so sorry for being a cunt to you back then", no. We don't see him express one bit of regret for his past behavior. In fact, not only does he make the handmade dolls of his "friends" say awful shit that shows how he's really seeing them, but he also look at himself in the mirror one day, see how dirty he is... and immediately compares himself to Trevor, showing us one more time what he thinks of his "friend".

And the term "friend" is way too big for whatever the trio has going on. The whole show severely lacks scenes of them actually bonding. We're offered a dynamic, and we're just supposed to go with it and accept that they are friends now, when they don't spend ONE moment actually growing closer as a group. It's worse, actually - we see them curse at each other and shittalk to each other... and THAT is what we're meant to see as bonding! The "eat shit and die" is a perfect example of that because Alucard and Trevor are still strangers to each other, yet they laugh at them cursing at each other as you would with your bestie. Except it works with your bestie, because you know each other very well. They don't. They did not earn that laugh. But it did establish very well that we were going to get fed an hostile dynamic between them and that we are just supposed to believe they are friends now. Despite not having any scene showing us that hey, they actually work together! They can talk nicely to each other sometimes! They care about each other! They respect each other!

And we're supposed to believe they are super important to each other? Please explain to me when, between the moment Alucard started to call Trevor's family "mentally ill hoarders", and the moment they killed Dracula, did they suddenly grow so close Trevor would give the man who has been insulting his entire legacy, said legacy?? (Especially if you think they spent two weeks being annoyed at each other.) It can be funny to see characters have banter and being overall nuisances to each other (granted character A doesn't literally shit on Character's B dead relatives!)... But unless they are supposed to be foes, you need to balance it with actual bonding moments. With actual moments of them being good to each other, to show they care. NFCV doesn't do that. And I can't for the life of me comprehend HOW are we supposed to be super happy and hyped for their reunion in s4, when it wasn't earned one bit! It was the OPPOSITE of earned! (The Arikado + Trevor reunion in Grimoire of Souls was way more impactful and heartwarming)

This is it, my favorite screenshot in the whole show.

It perfectly encapsulates their entire dynamic as a trio in the early seasons.

Sypha, she's just so sick of everybody's shit. They haven't been a group for more than two weeks at this point, and yet all she's heard from the boys are death threats and insults with a side of sarcasm. She has kicked one or both of them out of the wagon on more than one occasion.

Trevor, he's specifically sick of Alucard's shit. He's used to being the one who gives everyone else the shit. How the turn tables.

Alucard, he's learning what trauma is, and he's not taking it well. Better to entertain himself by giving Trevor record breaking amounts of shit than to reflect on his own suffering in any way, at least until the war is over.

[creamcheesy]

I don’t mind people adding emotion to their folk song renditions but it kind of breaks the mood if it seems like you’re experiencing the emotion NOW. think less I Dreamed A Dream more sad ghost telling you their story vibes please

[wizardemotions]

pinterest showed me some screenshots of posts that gave me the concept for an au where both harry and ron are sorted slytherin & draco is just slightly less rude in the first book. i could go into why i think this makes a lot of sense for ron but i won't. i've affectionately dubbed them the platinum quartet in my head and they will not leave me the fuck alone

[tagarilaghost]

I SWEAR CELEBI'S THINGY IS COMING SOON BUT I REALLY WANTED TO POST THIS ALRIGHT

yeaah... future trio got me too...

and Darkrai is there too, because of course he is.

hey look i drew a cute Drifloon :D

...ignore the rest

whatever started at Darkrai doodles ended in brainrot of future trio + darkrai and I'm blaming @scribz-ag24 for this

[cringefaecompilation]

ever think about how every single member of bell's hells has to deal with a second half to them that threatens to kill them or take over their entire body?

imogen has her connection to predathos. laudna has delilah. fearne has the shard of rau'shan. ashton has the shard of ka'mort. fcg had their care and culling protocols. orym has an archfey pact. chetney has his werewolf side.

so what's going to become of dorian?

[sysig]

Bowtie Charm! Inspired by @zarla-s​‘ super cute rendition hehe 💕 (Patreon)

Bonus collar breakdowns:

Changes depending on the doodle!

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

i'm halfway through updating my vatican trio spreadsheet with the official TL, and i'm laughing bc the difference is just so

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Part 1

[Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4]

To not turn into a giant raging asshole hell bent on murdering people and destroying the world after everyone he loved died, Danny had ran from Amity with his chosen vice.

A bottle. That’s right. Even after Jazz’s talks about alcoholism as a poor coping mechanism as a form of self harm, he still chose alcohol. Or maybe that’s why he picked it, because it reminded him of her, right before the booze took the sting of grief off of her memory. He was never really all that good at listening to Jazz.

And now she’s gone, so it’s moot point. Danny really hated Nasty Burger.

Danny made it all the way to Gotham, bottle constantly glued to his hand. It’s better than Vlad’s creep-o-self looming over him all of the time. He bummed out on the streets, fitting into crime alley like a native. Danny learned to pickpocket. Not much, just enough for a bottle when his ran out. He stayed human. At first he tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to be perceived as a meta in a city where Batman notoriously disliked metas. Then, as he sunk deeper, he admitted to himself in a shameful curl of a whisper that it was really because alcohol affected his human side much easier.

Ghosts need an ungodly amount of alcohol to even get slightly buzzed. Danny’s human side? Only one full bottle the shittiest tequila he could find could even hope to be more than buzzed. It sucked.

He’s spent two years being an alcoholic that didn’t actually get that drunk. Technically, underage drinking was a crime. But then again, so was being a vigilante ghost. So, whatever. He does what he can to dull the grief. Mostly, he slept on covered and hidden nooks on top of Crime Alley’s roofs. Gotham city had taken pity on him and cleared her smog clouds when he was awake at night. Stargazing helped, at least. It gave him a little hope. It gave him a little wish to change and better and live like he wants. But then the night ends and when the day comes, Jazz isn’t there. Sam isn’t there. Tucker isn’t there. His mom and dad are not there.

Danny always went back to the bottle, in the end. Not that it did much.

Which was why, when he saw three looming figures over a tiny child, Danny’s saving people thing flared with a vengeance and his surprised ectoplasm burned what little buzz he had achieved by downing most of the bottle away, leaving him stone cold sober and pissed.

Danny sighed, dumping the rest of the nasty tasting liquid out. There’s no point drinking that little.

He approached the trio, who were beating up an actual child. Ancients, he hated Crime Alley sometimes.

“Give me your shit, you little punk!” Asshole 1 decided to say like a typical mugger, raising his leg to kick the curled up kid below. Danny doesn’t let him land the kick, smashing the bottle on the asshole’s head before any of them clocked his presence. He pivots, pushing a bit of that extra strength he normally keeps on a tight leash into his hands, and punched the other two in a quick fashion, knocking them out.

With that taken care of, Danny turned back to the kid who was still curled up. Danny sighed again, the trembles in small shoulders plucking on his heartstrings.

“You okay, kid?”

The kid uncurls, and Danny stared. Holy shit, is he looking into a mirror? Blue eyes, black hair, and tanned skin. Holy shit, he’s even got similar jaws to Danny.

“Huh.”

The kid flinched.

“Y-y’er the drunk,” the kid flinched again, eyes darting to the broken bottle still clenched in Danny’s hand. “I- I ain’t got money, honest. Please-”

Danny blinked down at the kid, brain connecting the dots after so long without actual interaction. He’s panicking and staring at the bottle in Danny’s hand like it’ll kill him. Danny raised the bottle and the kid closed his mouth with a click, terror worming its way into the kid’s eyes.

“I wasn’t going to mug you myself, kid.”

“But- y’er the- the Alley drunk.”

Danny blinked. Did he get a reputation without knowing again? Goddammit.

“I guess. Am I famous or somethin’?”

“Nobody- nobody fucks wit’ ya.”

“I also don’t hurt kids.”

“…”

The kid stared at him dubiously and with a sinking feeling, Danny realized that maybe the kid already had some terrible experiences with a heavy drunken hand. He promptly chucks the bottle further into the alley.

“I drink, yes. But I’m also not the kind of scum that would lay hands on a kid, let alone anyone that didn’t provoke it first.”

“Oh.” The kid uncurled more, looking at Danny warily, more at ease now that the bottle has left the chat.

“Yeah. I’m Danny. Stone cold sober, right now.”

“…”

Danny waited.

“Peters.”

“Okay. Peters, do you wanna take their shit?” Danny pointed a thumb at the knocked out would-be-muggers behind him.

“Y… yeah, sure. What’s my cut?”

“All of it.”

Peters stared.

Danny shrugged and started looting.

"Y'er so fuckin' weird."

----

See, the thing is, Danny hadn't anticipated saving Peters- "'s actually Jason"- would result in having a duckling following him around. The kid, Jason, glared at everyone who even looked at them wrong. But that's not the problem, because Danny could take anyone who took issue with Jason's looks, it's more like there's a child following him around now and Danny doesn't want to be the reason Jason turns into an alcoholic. It's- well, it made him cut down on the drinking. He even got jobs- legitimate jobs that sucks out his his poor ectoplasmic soul.

Why? Because Jason's apparently homeless. While that's something Danny's okay with for himself, he can't ever condone that for an actual child. Jason's walking around in threadbare clothes and thin soled shoes in the middle of Fall, for Ancient's sake.

Danny grumbles as he piled a bunch of clothes into the shopping bag as he checked out. Gotham's Walmart is a different kind of hell, but Danny feels right at home.

Sure, the work might suck out his soul and he might hate being sober, but Jason's face every time he comes home to an actual place to live, warm clothes, and food was worth everything.

[portgasdwrld]

📂Op men + them being needy

Featuring: monster trio

Warning: Suggestive, NSFW, fem!reader, established relationship, english isn’t my first language

Important: Pls read my navigation before sending/commenting asks. I would love to do them, but some of y’all don’t spend two seconds trynna make sure ur ask is fine with me first 🫶🏻

Note: Y’all voted for that one and ngl i wanted to write this one, so we all share the same slutty mind. Also thank you for 100 followers 🫶🏻lm super glad that y’all are enjoying my writing💕 This took sm more time than I thought it would. Ima make a separate one for Ace whenever I have time 😭

Luffy

Luffy was laying down on his bed as you were not too far from him trying out some make up in the mirror facing his bed. He had insisted to nap with you next to him, so he had his long arm stretched around your waist lazily as you were dolling yourself up.

You hear him stir awake from his sleep as he groans and yawns loudly.

-What time is it?

He drags in a sleepy tone as he rolls to the side still covered by the sheets.

-Mmm, you only slept for an hour. You can go back to sleep baby.

You answer him as you take a quick look at your watch. You knew how he loves to sleep after he ate and especially if there isn’t much to do.

-It’s hard when you aren’t laying down next to me, I like to hug you close to mee.

He whines a little. You see him rub his eyes and softly sit between his messy sheets through the reflection of your mirror.

-I’m sorry baby, I will come later when I’m done, okay ?

You say softly as you apply a new colour of your eyeshadow palette on your eyelid. He gets closer to you, now sitting not too far behind you. His pretty dark eyes shift between your products and your face.

- What’s this, it shines~

He asks curious while pointing at your highlighter. You chuckle and open it to swipe some on the tip of your finger. You thought it would be a fun time to mess a little with him, so you swap some on top of your boob to show him. You smirk and point at your breast, showing him that it make your skin shine, when applied.

-it’s to make your skin shine, you simplify it to him.

His eyes looks down and stare at your chest. His arms unwrap from your body and with his finger he touches your skin to see if it stains his finger too and it does a little.

-Waaaw, amazing! That’s so cool

You nod with a smile and a comfortable silence falls between you two. He watches you apply your eyeshadow using multiple techniques. He let his chin rest on your shoulder and his expression gets a bit serious. He stares at you through the mirror.

-Y/n ?

-Mmm?

-I’m hard, let’s fuck.

You choke a little at his sudden straightforwardness. You take few seconds to take in what he just said, before throwing a look behind your shoulder to stare at your suddenly needy boyfriend.

-Luffy… just how ?

You ask defeated. He has the habit to get hard so randomly, not that you complained because sex with him was always more than satisfying. Though, It was just somewhat inconvenient when you were already doing something.

-I can just jerk off while you finish off, he propose seeing your unsure expression. The way he said that was so laid back that it made you giggle a little. Doesn’t he know the effect he has on you??You smile fondly at him, but letting him do that would be more torture than anything else.

-Or you can cockwarm me while you finish off like we did last time.

The “last time” he was referring to, ended by you two fucking with your undone hair. You shake your head, you couldn’t say no to him. It was always tempting to have him inside of you.

He kisses the crook of your neck, dragging your name in a groan taunting you to give him an answer.

-I like the last idea more, you finally reply with a shy smile. You gaze at him through the mirror and you see him grin.

-Alright !

You stand up to throw away your panty on his bed as he stroke his dick few times before you sat on it. You both left a moan as the contact was made. You were never used at the deepness he could reach. Your legs weakly fixed your position on his laps.

-Is it okay ?

He asks making sure you were comfortable. You nod as you gaze back at him. He pecks your cheek, his brown hair slightly tickling you, before leaning his body back, now supported by his arms. The view you have is just so delicious, you are about to give up any plans your had on finishing your make up.

-Luffy, you are making this so hard for me I swear.

You let out shakily under your breath, because he clearly couldn’t stay completely still.

He laughs as he approaches his body to yours, his warm breath brushing on your neck, his eyes looks at you with excitement.

-Can I play with your boobs ?

-Luffy…

You whine almost pleading him to be kind to you and let you do your make up without so much distraction. No way you are going to hold back with him touching you like that.

-Pleaseee

-Ugh… fuck it.

I need to write a whole mirror fucking fic with him now🧎🏻‍♀️

Zoro

Zoro is going out of his mind. His usual cool and collected image is crumbling every time he breaths. His eye stare at your figure with a burning gaze. He wants you so badly right now, but it was lowkey hurting his ego to tell you directly how he felt (he’s in fact too shy, but he would never admit that to himself.)

You definitely noticed his behaviour during the day, when he let his hand rest a little too long on your ass when you hugged him or when he kept taking glances at your boobs peeking from the low cut of your shirt.

You didn’t want to give it to him so easily without him openly saying that he wanted you. It was no fun otherwise. So you teased him all day, acting all clueless to his advances. It was until he snapped and pulled you into his room late in the afternoon.

-You have been so fucking annoying all day. You really enjoy acting all dumb when you want to.

-I dont know what you are talking about?

You reply with an innocent stare as you unconsciously bite your lips quickly and look up to him. He groans as he climbs on top of you on the bed, his large and strong body towering you was already enough to make your head dizzy. He leans his face few inches in front of yours. Your nose filled up with the scent of his cologne.

-You want to keep playing this ?

- Admit it.

-Admit what ?

He gulps with furrowed eyebrows. You smirk and wrap your arms around his neck. You pull the green haired man closer teasing the proximity of your lips to his.

-Admit that you want me.

You whisper with the same smile glued to your lips. Zoro eye slightly widen but he presses his lips on yours without adding another word, but you are fast to push him away by pressing upward your hands on his chest.

-Come on, baby~ You can’t even admit something so little ?

You pout as you knew his competitive ass wouldn’t take it and he would eventually get frustrated, and maybe give up.

-I will treat you so well if you do, I just need to hear it~

You continue hoping it would cheer your shy boyfriend to speak the words. You know he’s not the best with expressing his emotions, but god it felt good to see him all tensed because he wanted to fuck you so badly. You travel your fingers up his neck, brushing fading hickeys you left on him few days ago.

You see him sigh as he straightens his upper body. You give him a confused look for a moment, but it disappears when his lips curve into his familiar smirk.

He let his body fall next to you and you feel his strong arm slide under your waist. He pulls you against him and with his other arms, he props your body on top of his. You sit not too far from his hips area. He places his hands on each side of your hips and he gives a light spank on your ass earning a small surprised moan from you.

-What are you doing? I thought I was clear babe.

You say while crossing your arms under your chest. He chuckles and push your hips on top of his bulge. You could feel he was starting to get hard.

-I want you, so be good now and ride me.

You smile happy to hear it finally from him, but he still found a way to make it an order, so it earned a small giggle from you.

-What’s funny?

-Nothing. I said I will treat you right, so let me take care of you.

You said while going down on him. You pulled down his pants to reveal his half hard dick. You took it in your hand and with your thumb you spread the precum all over his tip while giving it few strokes with your other hand. You give few licks to tease him a little, but you shortly after wrap your plump lips around his cock. He hiss as his fingers brush away the hair in front of your eyes that was blocking his view.

-Fuck, just like that

He groans as he places his hand on top of your head trying to make you take more of his length. You let him do as he wishes, as you wanted tonight to be focused on him. He pushes his cock until it was deep enough into your throat that it was painfully hitting the back of it. Tears were starting to form into your eyes as you look up at him. He leaves a low moan and let his head fall behind as he give a lazy thrust into your mouth. He let go of your head not trying to hurt you and you take that chance to remove it from your mouth and breath.

-Shit, you’re so big

You pant with a heavy breath as you stroke his dick up and down using your spit. He smirk at your compliment and you don’t let him reply as you dive his cock into your mouth once again, sucking harshly getting a loud groan out of his mouth.

You torture his dick like this for few minutes as you take him deeply into your throat and suck harshly on his dick by also teasing his slit with your tongue. He was a moaning mess and honestly it’s been a while since you saw him so vocal about the pleasure he was feeling, that it was soaking your panties.

You stroke him with both of your hands as your mouth was sucking his tip and with the help of few thrust, he came into your mouth. You swallowed everything with a funny face and flashed your tongue at him so he could see. You then removed your shorts and panties along with your top, leaving you naked on top of him.

-I should let you suck me off like this more often.

-Yeah, well if I didn’t have to beg all the time to have your cock, I would suck you even upside down.

You retort as you position yourself on top of his dick, ready to slide him in you. Zoro roll his eye at your comment, but he grabs your thighs tightly, anticipating the feeling of your pussy around his cock.

You chuckle seeing him waiting for you to put it inside of you, in silence. You lean and give him a peck on his forehead with a soft smile. Your boyfriends cheeks blushed as he gives you a bit of a “wtf” stare.

-So eager, are we baby?

Sanji

Sanji was smoking outside as his body was leaning against the railing of the ship. His fluffy blond hair brushed by the cold breeze of the early night. His gaze seems lost in a trail of thoughts that only him will know about. You smile to yourself when you finally find your boyfriend.

« It’s a cold night, but lucky me I have someone to cuddle to keep me warm » you say, startling him a little.

He smiles as he recognizes your voice immediately. Sanji doesn’t hide the way his eyes enjoy savouring the view of your body in this little black silk dress. It was his favourite. The dress is so short that he could just bend you over the rail and he would not only have a great view of your pussy, but he could also easily take you there.

Why was it so easy for you to drive him crazy ? Just you being such an effortlessly beautiful women was enough to make his thoughts foggy. It wasn’t too fair for his heart and his dick.

-You are going to catch a cold, my love. Come here.

He finally replies while opening his arms. You rush a little into his embrace, loving the way his body’s warmth and the mix of his cologne and the cigarette’s smog fill your nose and senses. He presses his body against yours and you let the back of your head rest on his chest. He wraps his arms around your shoulders after throwing his cigarette in the ocean.

-How did you find tonight’s dinner, chérie?

-It was delicious as always darling.

You whisper enjoying the tranquility on the boat for once. Sanji hums in response as he let his hairy chin slightly tickle your neck. His lips brush your ear as his warm breath tickles your neck.

-You know you make me a mad man when you wear this.

-Do I?

You answer with a chuckle honestly forgetting how your boyfriend had a particular liking in this night dress. He loves everything you wear anyways so for you it didn’t change much, but as he presses his dick on your lower back, you kinda get what he’s leading to.

You feel his lips move to your neck where he presses them, where he sucks and bites your skin, leaving proof of his love on it.

-I wouldn’t mind dessert at this hour

He mumbles as his arms find a rest now on your breast. He presses his hips closer to your body and you do him the grace of slightly grinding your ass against his bulge.

-What do you mean?

You ask him playing dumb. It was so fun to tease Sanji. He was always so enthusiastic whenever something concerned you.

-I want to fuck you, darling

He continues as his unwrap your body from his arms. His fingers slide down your waist to tease the hem of your short dress. He let them wonder beneath it, feeling the softness of your ass. A gasp left your mouth when his cold fingers press against your clothed core.

-I could just bend you over this rail and fuck you so good, hmm?

He pushes his digits under your panty and let his fingers get coated of your juices before letting them slide upward where he pinches your clit. A moan leaves your throat loudly and you quickly bite your lips to stop any more sounds to come out.

You two could honestly get caught at any moment that someone decides to exit their room, but the thought itself made you even more wet.

-S-sanji, we could get caught..

-I know, but I can’t help myself when you look this good. I want you so badly that I don’t care about the rest.

He retorts with a heavy sigh as he continues to play with clit. He then opt to dive one of his long fingers inside of you, catching you off guard. You try your best to keep any sounds in, but he was making it so hard for you when he was moving so fast.

-Fuck, Sanji. Please fuck me.

You whine as your body naturally leans on the rail. Sanji other hand pushes your lower back to create a curve that earn a groan from his mouth.

Your boyfriend closes the distance pushing now a second finger deeper inside of you. His pace is fast and precise, trying his best to listen to the way your body react to the spot he touches inside of you. Sanji does still keep an eye out in case someone catches you two though..

Hitting all the right spots and playing with your clits with his other hand, you feel your climax approaching. With a last thrust of his finger and some dirty word whispered, you cum all over his fingers, staining his black pants a little.

-You’re insane..

You let out as you try to catch your breath. He smirks and give you a back hug, leaving plenty of kisses on your necks and collarbone.

-let’s go back to our room, so you take care of me~

[choochooboss]

Sketch dump! Vol. 5

September 2022 (Part 1/2)

The first piece on top summarised my cosplay rush for Tracon 2022! The second is an old idea for a charm.

"SURPRISE!!"

Back in 2022 I hosted an art raffle for reaching 777 followers on Twitter! The winner would get their submas themed idea realised (which was their friends throwing a surprise party for the twins!). I wanted to make a little comic and have the bosses walk in their office where depot agents, Elesa, Drayden, Skyla, Clay etc. would be waiting with decorations and treats and games.

Emmet is all smiles of course while Ingo gets so emotional he could only whisper a "super bravo".

Not really headcanons anymore but still funny ideas.

1. Emmet gets clumsy when off-rhythm! He starts walking in curves if there is nobody else around to match his rhythm with.

2. Emmet spaces out/forgets to say things aloud when someone speaks too long or when things go off-script! His thinking gets interrupted easily.

3. Ingo sometimes bumps into doors because he is too used to automatic doors!

4. When things go off-script Ingo speaks too much and rushes in straight lines"

Also my little inexpensive sketchbook & my trusty tools! Mechanical pencil and eraser pen are life when scribbling my skrimblos smaller than a postage stamp!

More Ingo~ I utilise a wide range of sources for references, including CSP's poseable 3D models, they can come really handy with perspectives and proportions!

The second piece is my very first attempt at cosplay in Tracon 2022: Blingo! I walked in with a sequin hat, leather jacket, leather pants and high heel patent leather boots.

The hardest part of cosplaying Ingo is remembering NOT to smile ahaha!

Some hairstyle tests

I drew these for a huge submas art collaboration over Twitter hosted by @/mimizukeii!! It was technically my first art collab before I started arranging them myself with Aggie/Magma.

While looking for train related songs I found this cute nursery rhyme to go with the marching:

"Over the mountains,

Over the plains,

Over the rivers,

Here come the trains.

Carrying passengers,

Carrying mail,

Bringing their precious loads In without fail"

I wanted to compare these silly twins, planning to do something more silly with them later. Also a sketch of @/fukurow's butler designs I never finished.. The capes compliment them so well, I love them!!

Prequel to this piece! Emmet is so confident in himself he thinks Pierce wants to learn from him but is invited for a duet on the stage instead!!

Emmet has really great voice actors in Pokemas! I especially love how his english VA gives him that bri'ish/posh/sophisticated vibe while also soft and melodic! I know for SURE this VA/Emmet can sing, I can show you later!

One of my favourite sketches!! I wanted to add a bunch of characters in the BG reacting to this sonic blast of emotion over a performance!

Heyyy it's the smile buddies comic!! I really hope Ingo gets to interact with Marnie in Pokemas one day!!

I feel Ingo's eyes in the mirror panel is a little off in the final comic, I meant to keep it softer like in the sketch!

It's Nimbasa trio!! Idea inspired by submas EX uniform colors. Might continue this later!

Some BG tests for this piece! Compositing is hard but absolutely worth the effort, it can make a huge difference in the appeal of your piece!!

Practise piece drawing over a photo I thought was cool! I want to get more experimental with lighting and perspective!

'How's it hanging bro?' Who hung him up there anyway??

Sketch for this arguing scene! Something REALLY BAD needs to happen for them to end up that tense! Even if I want to present them close to the canon material I still want to put them in really challenging situations to see how far I can push their emotions!

Thank you so much for coming all the way down here!! This set was pretty loaded, I hope you enjoyed scrolling through all this ahah!

Previous posts:

Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 3: August 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 4: July 2022 Part 2

[lowkeycasanova]

something you/they do during sex that's a complete turn on

headcanon

NSFW**

I imagined every scenario in missionary. Oops.

characters: monster trio + usopp and law

Luffy

You meet his eyes and he smiles down at you while deep in mid stroke. His breaths are shallow and hurried and his chest rising and falling with his efforts. "Hi." he giggles and lets out in a ragged breath. And you completely lost it. Any effort to maintain your composure was thrown out the window. Because it's just a simple, soft "hi" while completely wrecking you. It's the contrast of it. He's not as innocent as he seems. But he's so adorable. You hate it. That cheeky ass grin will be the death of you.

Sanji

The two of you were just about finished. He's slowly getting up and starting to pull out and you grab him by the shoulders to stop him, knowing the impending physical ache you'll feel when he's out. You pulled him back and whispered in his ear, "I'm not done feeling you yet." His breath caught in his throat, a flush of heat rising to his cheeks. His mind began racing. Holy shit. Yes ma'am. No problem. Anything you wanted, he was going to give to you.

Zoro

You just can’t keep your mouth shut. The more he fucked you in missionary, the louder you became. He brings his hand up to your face, uttering “shhh” softly as he caressed his thumb against your lips. With narrowed eyes and a sexy smirk, he fucks you harder, knowing he’s making this even more difficult for you. You shut your eyes shut and gritted your teeth behind closed lips, trying your best to be quiet. He looks down at you like the cocky asshole he is, pleased with himself.

Usopp

Your eyes were closed but you opened them, lifting your head up and admiring him with the glassy appearance. No words were exchanged between the two of you and for a split second, he thought he was doing something wrong. But you closed your eyes again and laid down on the pillow, seemingly more relaxed and pleasured. “Fuck…you’re so hot.” You told him. Sure, there were times he might have felt insecure. Everyone does. But rest assured, he will never be again. His mind registered what you said and his face broke out into a wide smile. You’ve just increased his God complex to another level.

Law

His hands rest on both sides of your head. You feel the tip of him as he’s about to slide himself in. You grab ahold of his shoulder and it causes him to stop momentarily, wondering what you’re about to do. Bringing a hand up to him, you tentatively brush the dark hair out of his face. “I trust you.” You whispered. For a brief moment, there was a flicker of surprise in his eye. Emotions swirled within him. Validation, responsibility, vulnerability, affection. Your trust meant everything to him. He mirrored your actions by reaching his hand out to caress your cheek and you lean into his touch. He plants a soft kiss to your lips and slowly but surely, slides himself in in a connection only meant for the two of you.

[mossycobblestonewrites]

DC X DP PROMPT #22

I've seen Everlasting Trio with Sam and Tucker being villains and Danny being a house husband, and I love it dearly, but what if it was flipped?

Danny isn't necessarily evil... He's nothing like how Dan operates, but he's still no where firmly on the 'good' spectrum. His lovely spouces on the other hand, had landed themselves onto the roster of the Justice League - and listen, Danny is very proud of them! Sam and Tucker worked very hard to get where they are, using their positions for immeasurable good. But, Danny is a bit over the whole hero thing. He would never stop his beloveds, but he's not going to make it easy on them.

Since Sam and Tucker had joined the JL, he's been biding his time. He didn't go into hiding, but he's been more subdued. They know what's up, they always know what's up. But Danny wants to have a good anniversary! And what could be a better anniversary than kidnapping your loved ones from work while their coworkers fight tooth and nail to retrieve them?

Maybe he's been listening to Jordan to much.. Danny won't complain! It sounds super romantic! So off he goes, with his brother and mirror sister, off to cause some minor mayhem.

[faebled-stories]

Hidden Strength

Kinkvember Day 7: Femdom/Immobilized

Kiss Of Life Han Julie x Male reader

7.3k words

The sun began its slow descent, casting a golden hue through the tall, narrow windows of Julie's dormitory, and you could feel the enchantment in the air. The light filled the small room with warmth, turning it into a sanctuary as beams of sun danced like whispers across the furnishings. Each detail glowed in this soft, waning light—the small, well-worn books stacked haphazardly on the desk, the laundry basket in the corner that had long since needed attention, and the plush throw blanket draped lazily over the back of a chair. Dust motes floated serenely through the light, resembling tiny stars suspended in a gentle, magical glow.

Julie stood near the entrance, carefully adjusting a small vase of fresh flowers she had picked from a nearby store earlier that morning. The vibrant yellows of daisies and deep purples of tulips stood out against the rustic wood of the console table. Each petal seemed to tell its own story of the sunlit day that had just passed, stories that matched the bubbling thrill that flickered in her eyes. Tonight was the night she had been looking forward to—an evening she had imagined over and over in her mind, a night where you, the one who stirred her soul in ways words couldn’t capture, would finally meet her friends. She’d run countless scenarios in her head about how this meeting would go, spinning fantasies and rehearsing introductions. But now, here in the warmth of her room, those fantasies felt tangible, almost alive, breathing alongside her anticipation.

The dorm itself mirrored Julie’s emotions: cozy, inviting, and filled with a subtle lavender fragrance that floated through the room, calming her nerves. Soft light spilled from the delicate table lamps, blending with the gentle twinkle of string lights draped across her ceiling, casting an intimate glow over everything. It was the sort of ambiance that drew you in, evoking memories of childhood sleepovers, whispered secrets, and moments when bonds seemed to deepen in the flicker of a candle’s flame.

Then, the familiar creak of the door broke through her thoughts, and she turned, her breath catching as you stepped inside. For a moment, her eyes softened, her gaze locking with yours as a warm smile blossomed on her lips. It was as if the entire room shifted to acknowledge your presence, grounding her swirling thoughts and calming the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat. You, with your quiet confidence and easy presence, seemed to blend into the warmth of her carefully crafted haven as if you belonged there.

Julie moved towards you, her smile widening as she leaned in to press a gentle kiss on your cheek—a gesture both tender and electric, filled with the quiet intimacy of everything unspoken between you. Her fingers lingered against your shoulder for a moment, and you could sense the pride in her eyes as she stepped back, letting you take in the room. A hint of curiosity danced in your gaze as you absorbed the cozy details, the careful touches that revealed so much of who Julie was.

“Come on,” she said softly, her voice steady, colored with the warmth of belonging and a spark of excitement she could barely contain. "They are all dying to meet you." The pride in her tone was unmistakable, as if she was welcoming you into a part of herself she rarely shared, inviting you deeper into her world.

As you walked with Julie toward the living room, laughter and lively voices spilled over from the trio who formed the heart of her group—Haneul, Belle, and Natty—lounging comfortably on an oversized sectional. The warmth of their camaraderie seemed to fill the entire space, and you could feel how much they meant to Julie; they weren’t just friends—they were chosen family, each one a vital thread woven into the fabric of her life. When they spotted you and Julie approaching, their faces lit up with joy, eyes twinkling with friendliness and a touch of curiosity. Julie’s hand rested lightly on your arm, guiding you forward, as if anchoring you to this moment she had longed to share.

As you got closer, you could hear snippets of their playful banter; Haneul animatedly recounted a missed class, waving her hands in exaggerated gestures, while Belle teased her with a mock scolding. Natty, sprawled out on the couch, chimed in with an enthusiastic nod, her laughter bubbling up and pulling everyone else along with it. You felt yourself relax, letting your natural charm surface as you joined in the conversation, tossing in a few witty comments that sparked more laughter. The group responded easily, welcoming you as if you’d always been a part of their tight-knit circle.

Julie stepped back a bit, watching the scene unfold with a quiet sense of pride blossoming in her chest. For her, this was more than just an evening with friends—it was a bridge between her worlds, a blending of the people she cherished most. And as laughter and light-hearted teasing filled the room, she couldn’t help but feel that this gathering marked the beginning of something beautiful.

“I can’t believe it took you this long to bring your boyfriend over—he’s so fun to be around!” Haneul teased, a mischievous grin lighting up her face as she nudged Julie playfully with her elbow. Her words carried a lighthearted energy that filled the dimly lit room, sparking another round of laughter. Julie chuckled, brushing off the teasing with a casual wave of her hand, her cheeks faintly flushed. “Yeah, it was about time,” she replied, her voice warm with both pride and affection.

The evening continued to unfold like the pages of a captivating novel, each conversation flowing effortlessly, every laugh weaving the group closer together. You found yourself laughing deeply, the kind of genuine laughter that only emerges in moments of pure connection. It was clear you belonged here, that your presence added something vibrant to their bond.

Natty, relaxed in the comfort of the shared dorm, had chosen a loose shirt, unconcerned about needing a bra. The soft fabric draped casually over her, shifting with her movements, adding an effortless allure. Her confidence and natural grace were palpable, a quiet charisma that drew people in without her even trying.

But as the night wore on, Julie’s smile wavered just slightly as she watched you talking animatedly with Natty. Natty, with her easy charm and relaxed demeanor, was practically family to Julie—a friend who had stood by her through secrets, laughter, and tears. Julie rarely felt anything other than complete trust in her. Yet tonight, a flicker of jealousy stirred within her as she noticed your gaze linger just a fraction too long on Natty’s chest, where the loose shirt dipped slightly, hinting at more than she could ignore.

It was barely a moment—a fleeting look, subtle enough that anyone else might have missed it. But for Julie, it was enough to send an unsettling ripple through her composure. Her stomach tightened as the thought took root, her mind spinning despite her efforts to shake it off. It wasn’t as though you’d crossed any lines; you were simply being your warm, charismatic self, engaging and open as always. Yet, that fleeting glance tapped into insecurities she thought she had buried, doubts lingering like shadows even amid her trust in both you and Natty.

Julie took a steadying breath, trying to refocus as she observed the scene, almost as if from a distance. Within her, a delicate balance of pride and vulnerability settled—a quiet mix of loyalty and uncertainty that she held onto as the evening continued around her.

Forcing a neutral expression, she tried to suppress the unease that draped over her like a heavy cloak. The room buzzed with laughter and teasing, yet it was becoming harder for her to fully engage. Each time you threw your head back in laughter, your charm seemed to grow under the admiring gaze of her friends. A pang of doubt fluttered in her chest, a quiet ambivalence tugging at the edges of her mind.

Soon, the conversation shifted to relationships—a topic Belle was particularly excited to explore. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she leaned forward, her smile playful and a bit too eager. “So, what’s it like dating Julie unnie?” she asked, eyes twinkling. “Is she totally whipped for you?” The room erupted in laughter, and Julie felt warmth creeping up her cheeks—a comment that would normally roll off her back but now struck a tender nerve. Should she let it go? She clenched her jaw, forcing a tight smile.

Natty joined in, her usual boldness paired with an audacious smirk. “She's the leader of our group,” she said, glancing at you with a teasing glint, “but I bet you call all the shots at home. I can’t imagine her being in charge over you.”

You didn’t respond right away, and the group took your silence as confirmation, murmuring their agreement with amused grins. Haneul, ever the instigator, jumped in with laughter, egging on the playful ribbing. “Oh, for sure! Julie unnie, the one in control everywhere except with you,” she teased, nudging you with a wink.

The jests and laughter swirled around Julie like rising waves, each remark chipping away at her composure. She glanced anxiously at you, waiting—hoping—for you to step in and defend her, to assert the truth of your relationship and challenge their playful assumptions. But instead, you chuckled along with them, a casual shrug signaling that, to you, it was all just lighthearted banter. Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, and her stomach knotted tightly.

Your silence felt like a quiet betrayal. Why would you let them see her in such a simplistic, inaccurate way? How could you stand by, leaving the depth and nuances of your relationship blurred by their teasing?

A slow heat builds within Julie, anger bubbling beneath the surface, though she covers it with an artificial laugh, going along with the banter for the sake of appearances. Inwardly, her thoughts race, composing pointed retorts and fierce arguments she plans to unleash later. The laughter continues to fill the room, but joy feels painfully out of reach. She clutched the edge of your drink a bit tighter, hoping it’ll keep her grounded, but the jealousy from earlier and frustration continue to churn within, casting shadows that refuse to dissipate.

When the night finally winds down, and her friends’ laughter fades to soft goodbyes, Julie and you step out into the cool night air. The chill hits her like a sharp wave, bracing against her skin and momentarily clearing her head. But the fresh air does little to ease the simmering frustration that has been building inside her all evening.

The moment the door thuds shut behind her and you, cutting off the final echoes of laughter, the tension inside her snaps, unraveling the careful restraint she held all night. She turns to you, words tumbling out like a dam finally broken. “What the hell was that back there?” Her voice is low, sharp, and cold as it slices through the quiet of the night.

You blink, taken aback by the intensity in her tone. “What are you talking about?” you ask, confusion and concern mixing in your voice.

She crosses her arms, instinctively tightening them across her chest as if holding herself together against the flood of emotions threatening to spill. “You just sat there and let them say all that crap,” she spits, her voice trembling despite its force. “They were making me out to be a pushover, like I’m some kind of doormat at home. And you didn’t defend me—not once! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

Your eyes widen as realization sinks in, and guilt begins to weave through your thoughts. You open your mouth to respond, but she cuts you off before you can form the words. Taking a step closer, she looks up at you, her eyes glistening with restrained anger and hurt. “I expected you to set the record straight. To tell them that’s not who I am. But instead, you just… laughed along. Like it was all true.”

The accusation hangs heavy in the chilly air, each word settling deep. You feel the pang of guilt flicker across your face as you reach out, hesitating, searching for the right thing to say. But her gaze stops you, piercing and unwavering, a mix of anger and wounded pride. Beneath her anger, you see a raw sense of betrayal that gnaws at her, aching and exposed. This was supposed to be the night she introduced you to the people closest to her, the ones who saw her as strong and capable. Instead, she feels as though she’s been reduced to a shallow caricature, her relationship glossed over for the sake of a joke you let slide.

She draws a shaky breath, lowering her arms as she tries to steady herself, grounding the storm that churns inside her. “We’ll talk about this when we get home,” she says, her voice resolute and final, leaving no room for debate. She needs space to process the whirlwind of emotions before anything else can be said.

Your shoulders slump, and you nod silently, regret etching lines across your face. The two of you begin the walk back to your shared apartment in tense silence, each step echoing the growing chasm between you. The usual warmth and ease that bind you feel absent, replaced by a heavy, strained quiet that makes every footfall feel burdensome. The silence amplifies the divide, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions, each step stretching the space further.

As you walk, she’s lost in thought, memories of the evening replaying in relentless loops. Every laugh, every teasing remark, and every moment you’d laughed along instead of defending her plays like an unending scene in a theater she can’t escape. Frustration simmers, coiling tightly in her stomach as she tries to understand how you could have missed how deeply it affected her, how your silence felt like a silent endorsement of their jokes.

-----

The familiar sight of your apartment, once a place that buzzed with shared laughter and the comfort of mutual understanding, now looms ahead, transformed into an arena of silent reckoning. Julie’s eyes, which once sparkled with shared secrets and inside jokes, now bore into you with a steely resolve that leaves no room for misinterpretation.

When she speaks, the word hangs in the air like a final verdict. “Strip.”

You find yourself obeying, not out of fear, but out of a deep-seated need to atone for your transgression.

As you undress, the gravity of the situation becomes increasingly palpable. Each article of clothing that hits the floor feels heavier than the last, a testament to your surrender and an acknowledgment of the power dynamics that have shifted so abruptly. The room, usually filled with warmth and comfort, seems to shrink around you, intensifying the awareness of your exposed state. The chair in the center, once ordinary, now holds an ominous presence, its unyielding surface a prelude to the control Julie is about to wield.

Sitting there, naked and vulnerable, your exposure transcends the physical; it becomes a baring of your very soul, a silent plea for forgiveness and understanding. The cool air of the apartment skates over your skin, raising goosebumps and sending shivers racing down your spine. Every sense feels heightened, tuned to the faintest sounds—the rustle of fabric, the soft creak of the floorboards, and the steady rhythm of her movement as she prepares. The anticipation stretches each second into an eternity, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

When Julie finally reemerges, the transformation is striking. Gone is the warm, light-hearted partner who shared laughter with you earlier in the night. In her place stands a figure of dominance, her presence commanding and confident. She is dressed in black, the fabric accentuating her form with precision, glinting subtly as she moves. In her hands are the tools of her trade: silken ropes that promise both comfort and captivity, a spreader bar that signals the extent of your impending restraint, and a gag that will soon silence your words.

Julie’s movements are deliberate, each step resonating through the quiet room. The click of her heels on the hardwood floor becomes a countdown to when your world will narrow to just her and the sensations she chooses to inflict. She pauses in front of you, her gaze sweeping over your form with a look that is both critical and approving. It’s not cruelty in her eyes but satisfaction—a shared acknowledgment of the trust underlying this exchange.

“Hands,” she commands, her voice low and unwavering. You comply immediately, bringing your wrists behind you as she steps closer. The scent of her perfume reaches you, teasing your senses. Her fingers are skilled, weaving the ropes with a practiced ease, the loops snug but not cutting. Each knot holds you firmly in place, ensuring your surrender is complete. The bindings serve as a tangible reminder of your submission, tightening with every subtle shift of your body.

Julie's eyes glinting with mischief as she picks up the gag. She holds it up for a moment, searching your gaze for that final glimmer of acceptance. She moves closer, fitting the gag around your head. The material presses into your lips, silencing any potential words. As the gag muffles your voice, turning your apologies and pleas into soft, incoherent murmurs that fill the room, Julie smiles in satisfaction.

The sensation is disorienting yet electrifying, deepening your vulnerability. With a playful smirk, she reaches for the spreader bar, attaching it firmly, stretching your legs and enhancing the sense of helplessness. You feel the weight of your submission settle in, the world around you narrowing to just her and the anticipation of what comes next.

She steps back to assess her work, the room momentarily filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing, now shallow and uneven. The silence stretches, amplifying the thrum of anticipation coursing through you. Her gaze lingers as she runs a finger down your arm, trailing goosebumps in its wake. The spreader bar still lies within reach, a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

“Do you know why you’re in this position?” she asks, her voice slicing through the quiet with a commanding edge. The question hangs in the air, charged with expectation.

You nod, the movement subtle but insistent. Your eyes meet hers, carrying an apology and submission that don’t need words. But the nod alone isn’t enough for her.

“Good,” she whispers, leaning down until her breath warms your skin. “Then you’re going to be a good boy and take everything I give you tonight. Understand?”

You nod again, more fervently this time, the gag pressing against your mouth as you do. Your heart thunders as her words echo in your mind, sending a pulse of anticipation through you that makes every nerve in your body come alive. Her lips curl into a smirk as she straightens, her eyes never leaving yours.

And with that, the teasing began.

Julie moves with a predator's grace, each step calculated and precise. She brushes against you, her body a whisper against your skin, as she circles the chair like a huntress toying with her prey. Every nerve heightens in suspense, registering each point of contact—her breasts grazing your arm, her hips swaying against your legs. The gag renders your mouth useless, but your eyes betray a silent, unspoken desire.

Her fingers skim lightly over your thighs and stomach, deliberately avoiding your most sensitive areas, savoring the way your body tenses under her touch. Fingernails scrape gently over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"Already squirming," she teases, voice soft yet commanding. "I haven’t even started, and you’re falling apart."

A muffled groan escapes as your body instinctively yearns for more. She revels in your helpless state, bound and utterly under her control. Her fingers dance over your chest, tracing the contours of your muscles before finally grazing the tip of your hardened length. The touch is fleeting, barely enough to satisfy the ache building within, but just enough to keep you teetering on the edge.

"So needy already," she murmurs, dark amusement flickering in her eyes as she continues her tantalizing torment. "And I’ve barely touched you."

Julie’s mastery in the art of dominance is clear in the way she commands every inch of your submission, drawing out your reactions like a skilled musician coaxing a melody from each note. She knows the true power lies in denial, in the sweet agony of anticipation. Her hands explore further, tracing the lines of your torso, shifting between feather-light touches and firmer caresses.

The dynamic between you pulses with an electrifying tension, a charged dance of dominance and submission. Without warning, she climbs onto your lap, her thighs bracketing your hips as she straddles you. Her warmth presses against you, her slickness gliding over your length, coating you with her arousal and leaving a heated trail that only deepens the fire within you, threatening to consume you both in its intensity.

Her hips start a slow, deliberate grind, pressing her heat against you in a rhythm that’s both seductive and torturous, a constant teasing friction that only intensifies your need. Each controlled roll of her body against yours sends waves of pleasure rippling through you, spreading outward until every inch of your skin feels alive, hypersensitive to her slightest movement. She holds herself just out of reach, the wetness from her core brushing and slicking along your length, leaving you taut with need, your body practically vibrating with anticipation. Each soft gasp that escapes her lips as she moves only fuels the growing ache within you, driving you to instinctively buck your hips, craving to close the maddening distance, to press deeper into her warmth.

But the restraints binding you to the chair hold fast, forcing you to submit, a stark reminder of your willing captivity. Every strained movement, every pull against the bindings, only sharpens the ache, the urgency growing with each second she remains perched atop you, tantalizingly close but just out of reach.

She catches sight of the glistening evidence of your arousal at your tip, coated in her own slickness, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Leaking already," she murmurs, the tone a mixture of amusement and smug satisfaction. Her eyes gleam with wicked delight, drinking in every bit of evidence of your desire. "So desperate for me… and I haven’t even let you inside. Pathetic."

Her words cut through the fog of arousal, a sharp contrast to the gentleness of her fingers as they begin to wander, tracing languid lines across your chest. Her fingertips drift over your skin with a possessive tenderness, mapping each contour and ridge with expert care. Her nails skim along your muscles, trailing down over the firm lines of your torso and sending jolts of heat to every nerve, her touch both thrilling and maddeningly slow.

She leans in, her breath warm against your neck as she murmurs softly, her voice carrying a tone of command that feels both soft and absolute. Every inch of you responds to her, every nerve straining toward her touch as she masterfully pushes and pulls you between desire and restraint, leading you through a symphony of sensation, teasing you closer and closer to the edge without allowing release.

Your breaths come shallow and ragged, each exhale a silent plea for mercy as your gaze meets hers, desperation clear in your eyes. But there’s a glint of mischief in her expression as she holds you there, a silent acknowledgment that she’s in complete control. She has you—body and mind, bound and utterly at her mercy, while she conducts each sensation with calculated precision.

In one swift, unexpected move, she rises from your lap, leaving you throbbing, trembling with unfulfilled longing. The sudden absence of her warmth is jarring, a shock that leaves you gasping as your body craves her all the more. Helpless, you watch as she steps back, just out of reach, her gaze sweeping over you with a look of calm satisfaction, savoring the power she holds. She’s a goddess in her own right, basking in the way you devour her with your eyes, the silent worship etched across every fiber of your being.

With a fluid gesture, Julie blindfolds you, plunging you into darkness where every other sense sharpens. "You don’t get to beg with your eyes anymore," she murmurs, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "You’ll just have to feel." Deprived of sight, every whisper of her movement against your skin intensifies, turning each caress into a new form of exquisite torture.

She kneels down and her hand wraps firmly around your shaft, motionless yet charged with intent. You can feel the beat of your own pulse against her palm, each rhythmic throb amplifying the ache within you. She holds you just like that, unhurried, letting the tension build until every second feels like an eternity.

Then, almost imperceptibly, her arm began to move. Each stroke is a maddening tease—soft, deliberate, and just enough to make your muscles clench with anticipation, but never enough to bring you the release you crave. She slides her hand upward, a slow and torturous ascent that ignites every nerve along the way, until she stops just below the tip. Her grip tightens just a little, holding you there, keeping you on edge, her control turning your desire into a relentless pulse.

After a breathless pause, she reverses course, moving just as slowly down to the base and stopping again. The deliberate rhythm—up, pause, down, pause—leaves you trembling, body taut and shivering under the command of her touch. Each hold, each slight squeeze, feels like both a promise and a denial, the tension building with every passing second. It’s a masterful, torturous dance, and you’re ensnared in her control, helpless yet entranced by her command over your senses.

Her lips part in a sly smile "Look at you," she murmurs, her voice low and honeyed. "So hard, so ready and I decide when you’re satisfied." Her words are a silken reminder of her power, and the restraint she demands makes the desire inside you swell even further, twisting with both longing and surrender.

Just when the suspense is unbearable, she leans closer, her breath grazing your length, warm and tantalizing. The soft, steady rhythm of her exhale sends ripples of heat through you, and the contrast between her closeness and the aching need intensifies the tension coiling within. Her breath lingers, teasing, as if savoring every second of the anticipation.

Then, her lips brush lightly against the tip, a feather-soft kiss that makes your entire body jolt in response. In that instant, a drop of anticipation escapes, and she notices, her gaze fixated on each pulse of your member. She dips her head, the tip of her tongue darting out just enough to scoop the small drop, her touch maddeningly gentle.

Her tongue traces the tiniest, deliberate flick across the sensitive skin, collecting the bead with exquisite care. Each soft, restrained stroke of her tongue stokes the fire within, leaving you teetering on the edge of release yet held back, her control absolute. Each touch is measured, perfectly calculated to keep you suspended between need and surrender, an unrelenting tease that keeps you helplessly ensnared.

Your muscles strain against the bonds that hold you, your body surrendering to the exquisite torment she inflicts. The pride that once stiffened your spine melts under her touch, leaving you utterly exposed and vulnerable. In this game of pleasure and restraint, Julie is the undisputed master.

"What a pathetic mess," she taunts, amusement lacing her voice as she revels in her dominion over your body. "You tower me and yet I can make you crumble with just a touch." Her words cut both as a rebuke and a compliment, a testament to her irresistible allure.

With each slow stroke along your shaft and each flick of her tongue over the sensitive tip, she brings you to the very edge of release, only to pull back, leaving you teetering on the brink of bliss. Your body arches, straining against the restraints, desperate for the ultimate surrender that only she can offer.

Then, without warning, she stops.

Julie stands back, posture exuding a blend of amusement and authority, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she watches your frustrated contortions. Her eyes glint with mischief, sparkling like sunlight on an unruly sea, as she takes in the sight of you squirming under the weight of your desire. The tension thickens, a palpable pulse wrapping around you both, amplifying every flicker of energy flowing between you.

“You want to cum so badly, don’t you?” she taunts, her voice dropping to a low, sultry purr that resonates in the core of your being, each syllable dripping with seduction. The words hang in the air, tantalizing and laced with playful command, pulling you even deeper into her orbit. She leans closer, her warm breath brushing against your skin, strengthening the connection that crackles between you.

“Beg for it,” she continues, her tone turning sharper, though still steeped in teasing allure. “Apologize for what you did to me earlier.” Her eyes narrow, challenging you to surrender, to embrace the vulnerability simmering just beneath the surface. The power dynamic dances between you, electric and heady, anticipation swirling like a cyclone that leaves you breathless, utterly captivated by her control.

Your response is a garbled attempt at speech, the gag reducing your words to incomprehensible murmurs. Yet the desperation is unmistakable, a raw testament to the intensity of your need.

Julie chuckles softly, her breath hot and laced with playful mischief as she leans in, her lips hovering near your ear. The warmth radiating from her skin sends a shiver down your spine, heightening the tension simmering between you.

“I can’t understand you,” she teases, voice low and sultry, each word leaving a trail of excitement in the still air. Her playful tone cuts through the intensity, a lightness that only sharpens the edge of the moment. A mischievous grin dances across her lips, a blend of challenge and allure that sets your heart racing.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” she purrs, her eyes bright with mischief. The space between you crackles with unspoken desire as you struggle to respond, caught in the spell she weaves. Julie’s confidence and sass infuse the moment with an infectious thrill, holding you captive in a deliciously precarious game of cat and mouse.

With renewed urgency, you try again to plead, your muffled cries growing more frantic. But Julie’s smirk remains, her head shaking in silent refusal as she drinks in your pleas, delight flickering in her gaze.

The seconds stretch, each one a small eternity that settles heavily on your consciousness. The yearning inside intensifies, a silent plea for release that feels like a prayer. Each minute seems to stretch further, blending into a timeless void filled only with the sound of your ragged breaths and the pounding of your heart.

Julie watches with an intensity that’s both unsettling and thrilling, her gaze tracking every twitch, every involuntary shudder that runs through you. She seems to derive a certain pleasure from this power, this control she holds over you.

Then, as if guided by an impulsive whim or sensing a subtle shift within you, her demeanor changes. Her fingers, which have been teasing around your length, suddenly tighten around your shaft. The warmth of her palm contrasts sharply with the cool air, the pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

In an instant her hand begins to move in deliberate, fast strokes. Each motion is a symphony of sensation, a calculated descent into the depths of pleasure. Your muscles coil like a spring, tension mounting with every pass of her hand.

The room fills with the sound of your muffled moans, the gag doing little to stifle the raw, animalistic noises escaping your throat. Parched from panting, forming words becomes impossible, but your body speaks for you, each tremor a language of pure need. Your back arches, every fiber straining against the crescendo of sensation threatening to overwhelm.

Then, with a suddenness that’s both startling and inevitable, the wave of release crashes over you. After the relentless teasing and countless moments held just on the brink, the sensation is nothing short of explosive. It’s as though every nerve in your body has been ignited, the intense buildup finally finding its release in a torrent that consumes you completely. The climax is powerful and shuddering, each pulse deeper and more overwhelming than the last, streaking across your stomach and chest as Julie angles you just so, letting every drop land exactly where she intended.

The sensation is almost blinding, leaving you trembling in its wake. The sheer force of release leaves your muscles shuddering, as if they’re catching up to the relief they’ve been denied for so long. Your breaths come in sharp gasps, each one echoing the intensity of everything you’ve been holding back. Every ounce of tension unwinds, cascading through your limbs until you feel weightless, utterly spent.

As the aftershocks ripple through you, your head was buzzing, the world narrowed to the warmth and satisfaction coursing through your body. Julie’s hand slows, her touch soft and almost reverent as she loosens her grip, fingers tracing gentle circles along your skin. Her gaze lingers over the evidence of her careful work, a quiet triumph in her eyes as she takes in the effect she’s had on you, savoring each tremor and shallow breath.

You thought you were done, that the punishment had finally matched the crime, but you couldn't have been more wrong. The game is far from over.

The air hangs heavy with the scent of leather and the unmistakable musk of arousal, filling the space between you. Julie’s fingers work with expert precision as she reaches for the buckle behind your head, the slick click of metal releasing the ball gag from your mouth breaking the tense silence. As the gag falls away, you gasp for air, your chest heaving with a sharp, grateful intake, savoring the rush of cool air against your parched throat—a fleeting relief from the intensity she’s kept you under.

But she allows you no time to settle. Her fingers glide up to the blindfold, and with a quick tug, she pulls it away, letting light spill into your vision. Your eyes squint and blink, adjusting to the sudden brightness after so long in darkness, the details of the room coming back into focus in a dazed, almost surreal clarity. Julie’s face comes into view, her gaze heavy with satisfaction, her expression carrying the weight of everything she’s just put you through.

In one fluid motion, she gathers the overwhelming evidence of your surrender—your release, slick, warm and copious in her hand, holding it up between you, letting the light catch it as if it were some prized possession. Her eyes, dark and filled with a knowing glint, meet yours, and the look she gives you is laced with pride, satisfaction, and a sense of complete ownership that sends another shiver down your spine.

Her expression speaks volumes, a blend of triumph and control, as if marking this moment as her own creation. The silence stretches, laden with all the unspoken promises she’s fulfilled, and the intensity of her gaze makes it clear that she isn’t done with you yet.

“Open,” she commands, her voice a silky rasp that brooks no disobedience. Your lips part instinctively, the submissive reflex inside you responding to her dominance. Slowly, deliberately, she tips her hand, letting the viscous fluid slide over your tongue. The taste is salty, bitter—a potent reminder of your surrender.

"Keep it there until I say otherwise," she instructs, her tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. You nod slightly, eyes wide, a blend of fear, excitement, and adoration clouding your gaze. A soft whine escapes you, a sound that speaks volumes about your submission.

Her hand resumes its relentless rhythm on your sensitive member, merciless in its pace, drawing you back to the peak of pleasure despite the sharp, overstimulated ache that borders on pain. Each jolt that courses through your body makes you feel your vulnerability tenfold. The strength you once prided yourself on is gone, leaving you trembling, utterly at her mercy.

“Keep squirming” she purrs, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she revels in the sight of you reduced to this state. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Your body twitches under her touch, control completely relinquished to her hands. The overstimulation is overwhelming, but stopping is a luxury she’s denied you, and you’re left trapped in an intoxicating blend of ecstasy and agony that only she can navigate.

Julie’s eyes, darkened with unrestrained desire, stay locked onto yours as her slick hand works you closer and closer. But there’s no comfort in her gaze, only dominance and satisfaction as she sees you fall apart under her touch. She leans in, a mocking smile on her lips. “Look at you—just a mess. Can’t even handle a little girl like me.”

The pressure builds unbearably, each second a dizzying rush that overwhelms you. Your face twists in desperation, begging silently for her mercy as her pace continues. Just when you think you can’t bear it anymore, your control shatters, a raw moan escapes you as a couple drops of liquid spills from your lips onto your chest as your release is forced from you again.

But Julie only smirks, her hand still working with an unrelenting rhythm, refusing to give you even a moment’s reprieve. She watches, amused, as you whimper and struggle beneath her, her mocking voice low and taunting. “I didn’t say you could stop.”

Your eyes widen, pleading, but she doesn’t relent. The sensitivity has your body spasming under her touch, every nerve frayed as she pushes you toward a second release, knowing it will push you past all limits. You can only submit, powerless as she drives you quickly over the edge again.

With a broken moan that quickly crescendos into a loud, uncontrollable cry, your body surrenders, releasing one last time in a shuddering wave. The climax is so overwhelming that your muscles, usually clenching tight in moments like this, go limp under her dominance. The sensation crashes over you, leaving your mind blank and your body helplessly convulsing.

As the intensity peaks, your previous release spills from your mouth, dripping down to your chest and mingling with the sweat beading your skin. The warm, slick mess spreads across your torso, the sensation amplifying the vulnerability coursing through you. Every fiber of your being is overtaken, leaving you quivering and trembling as she finally eases her grip. You collapse, utterly spent and broken before her, breaths coming in ragged gasps as the overstimulation echoes through your limbs.

Julie’s eyes never leave yours as she leans in, claiming your mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss that leaves you gasping. She pulls back with a sharp smirk, then spits harshly onto your chest, the suddenness of it making you shudder as the warmth mixes with the already smeared fluids. The act stings with raw dominance, each drop marking her claim. Slowly, she drags her fingers through the blend, smearing it purposefully across your skin. Each stroke is deliberate, a cool reminder of her power as her touch lingers over your heaving chest, spreading the warmth until it clings to every inch of you.

“There,” she murmurs with a smirk, voice a perfect blend of pride and satisfaction. “Now you’ll remember exactly who owns you.”

Julie rises slowly, her fingers gliding down your chest, pausing to press lightly where your heartbeat betrays your surrender. She steps back, her eyes sweeping over you—bound to the chair, hands secured tightly behind your back, legs spread wide by the bar at your ankles. Every inch of you is exposed, vulnerable, and yet there’s no desire to resist. The calmness settles deeper, the certainty of yielding to her undeniable.

A small, satisfied smile plays at the corner of her lips as she studies you, taking in the way the ropes hold you exactly where she wants. Her gaze fixes on you with a confidence that’s unbreakable. “This,” she says, her tone soft yet edged with command, “is exactly where you belong. Tied up, under my control, waiting for my command. You don’t get to call the shots here—that’s my role.” Her words settle over you, embedding themselves like an invisible mark, a seal on the surrender you feel.

She steps behind you, her hands resting firmly on your shoulders, anchoring you in her presence. She begins to knead away the last traces of tension, her fingers firm yet gentle, drawing you deeper into her influence. A shiver races down your spine as she leans close, her breath warm against your ear.

“Think about tonight,” she murmurs, her voice both soft and unshakable, as though each word is settling into you. “Think about how easily you yield, how completely you become mine, just as you are right now. Because this”—her nails trail lightly down your back, drawing a sharp breath from you—“is how things will be. In this house, and anywhere else we go.”

Her hands slide back to your wrists, her fingers deftly working to untie the ropes that have held you so tightly. She moves with care, releasing each bond one by one, each motion a reminder of her control. Even as the ropes fall away, the feeling of being held by her command remains. She moves to your front, kneeling to remove the spreader bar from your ankles, her fingers brushing your skin lightly, each touch a reminder that it’s her choice to free you, her decision.

Once free, you feel the urge to stretch, but her gaze roots you to the spot, grounding you in her authority. Her eyes stay fixed on you, unwavering, and without a word, the weight of her expectation presses down. It’s instinctive—you feel yourself slowly sinking down, lowering to your knees before her, your hands coming to rest at your sides.

Julie steps closer, her fingers reaching for your chin. She tilts your head up, bringing your eyes to meet hers, and the weight of her command settles even deeper within you.

“This,” she says, her thumb brushing softly over your jawline, “is exactly where you belong—at my feet, waiting for my word. I want you to see who’s in control, who makes the choices. And every time you look at me like this, you’ll remember that every action, every decision, is mine.” Her fingers tighten just slightly, her gaze holding yours with a depth that leaves no room for doubt.

You nod subtly, the acceptance in your gaze mirroring her certainty. Her hold on your chin remains, her fingers pressing a little firmer, reinforcing the truth she’s just spoken. “I don’t want you to just obey. I want you to feel it, to know that every inch of you is mine to command. You stay when I say stay. You move when I allow it. Understand?”

The air is thick with her authority, her words pressing into you, reinforcing her control in every possible way. You nod then finally, she releases your chin.

She smiles, her satisfaction evident. “Good,” she murmurs, watching you closely. “Get up and go clean yourself. Then meet me in bed. We're going to discuss your behavior at the dorm.”

You rise slowly, each movement a reminder of the boundaries she’s drawn. As you turn toward the bathroom, you feel her gaze lingering, following you like a weight that holds you in place even as you walk away. And when the door clicks shut behind you, the image of her small, knowing smile remains etched in your mind—a reminder of the perfect place she’s found for you, right where she intended.

[delulujuls]

thick thighs save lives (but ruin racing suits) | ln4, op81

hi! i got this idea from one tiktok i saw today. this one goes for my plus size girlies (including myself lmao) so please enjoy as much as papaya boys would enjoy some pair of thick thighs!

summary: lando and oscar never seen their friend with something tight on, so when it comes to try on new racing suits she have a big surprise for them

warnings: slightly disturbed perception of body image

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!mclarendriver x lando norris

Y/N sometimes forgot that she was a girl.

At the beginning of her career she tried to make an effort to look good, showing that a male-dominated sport wouldn't take away her feminine grace. Years ago she used to wake up early, style her hair, do makeup and spend a lot of money on fixing cosmetics but unfortunately everything was lost due to sweat, a balaclava and a tight helmet. So the girl decided that this fight made absolutely no sense - she decided to stuck only to lip balm and mascara.

Despite keeping her makeup to a minimum, even her mascara remained treacherous, smearing under her eyes after each race or training session, making her look like a panda. In terms of clothes, the girl didn't have much opportunity to show off either. Her clothes were largely either team tracksuits, a racing suit, or just a baggy orange T-shirt and jeans.

And just as Oscar and Lando looked great after the race despite sweat and messy hair, her post-race glow didn't really existed. On the contrary, she looked as if she had a hard, sleepless night.

It is known that when media days fell on the calendar, the girl tried to look her best. She had light make-up and nicely styled hair, but her body was still covered by loose layers of clothes. It would seem that apart from her physiotherapist and the team doctor, no one around her had any idea what kind of figure the girl really had.

However, everything changed when the break between seasons came. When places had numerous galas and events and you could throw away uncomfortable helmets and team clothes. However, as we know, everything comes to an end at some point and we have to return to the gray reality. This was the case, when the day came and it was time to try on new racing suits for the upcoming season.

Y/N hugged Lando and Oscar upon seeing them outside the entrance to McLaren's headquarters. The trio hadn't had the opportunity to see each other for several weeks, so there was a lot of joy. In a good mood, surrounded by conversation, they went inside and immediately went to the designated place. After a short presentation of costumes, everyone received theirs and went to change, only to come back after a while and report any reservations regarding comfort and range of movement. Y/N took her suit without thinking and went to change. She was surprised when the suit got stuck on her butt and refused to go up any higher.

"What the hell"

The girl muttered under her breath, gripping her fit tighter and jumping in it several times. When it finally slid over her ass, Y/N slipped her hands into the sleeves and zipped up the zipper, sealing the Velcro around her neck. Something was definitely wrong. The girl looked in the mirror at her reflection. The outfit was great and looked amazing, the only problem was that it was a bit tight. Which shouldn't be the case, because the outfits were based on last season's, so the dimensions shouldn't differ drastically. It was impossible to gain so much weight in three months, right?

The girl turned around, looking at the back of her body. The outfit was definitely tight. Just as it was still relatively tight on her chest, it was very tight on her thighs and butt.

Y/N covered her mouth with her hand, looking at her reflection. Have she really always had such big thighs? Did she actually gain weight during the past break?

She was brought out of her thoughts by a knock on the bathroom and the voices of Lando and Oscar outside the door.

"Are you ready?"

The girl felt her cheeks burning with shame.

"I think I have a problem"

Hearing this, the friends fell silent and looked at each other.

"Can we come in?"

Y/N agreed quietly, still staring at herself in the mirror. With each passing second, she became more and more confused about her reflection.

Oscar and Lando entered the bathroom, also wearing their suits. When they noticed their friend standing with her back to them, the first thing they noticed was her butt. Lando quickly looked up at the ceiling and Oscar walked over to the girl, trying his hardest to focus on the reflection of her face in the mirror.

"What happened?"

Y/N bit her lip in shame and silently turned towards them. Her friends involuntarily looked at her, pretending they didn't know what she meant. But as soon as they saw the material tight around her ass from the entrance to the bathroom, they knew exactly what the matter was about.

"My suit is too tight" The girl said quietly, looking at herself "It doesn't fit at all"

Lando wrapped his arms around himself and covered his mouth with his hand. He tried his hardest not to speak, because all he could think about were comments about her thighs and whether she could crush him with them. It didn't get much easier for Oscar. He put his hands on his hips and looked at his friend silently. He was afraid that he would be unable to comfort her in any way, because his mind was completely blank.

Piastri cleared his throat after a while, trying to return from the land of fantasy and behave as if the whole situation was really dramatic.

"Is it very tight?"

"Oh, just look!"

The girl spread her arms and spun around. Lando bit his lip and tilted his head back. Oscar held his breath, having no idea what to say. He was totally mesmerized by her curves.

"I- Uhm, I think it's just a mistake and they'll make you a different one without any problem."

"Different one?" Y/N asked, feeling tears in her eyes. “What if it's not a mistake and I've gained weight these past few months?”

"After all, the tests showed that everything was fine with your measurements."

Oscar said calmly.

Y/N turned to the mirror again and looked at her reflection.

"What a total shit"

"Hey, don't say that" Lando was immediately outraged "You look great"

"Great?" The girl snorted, "Come on, I look ridiculous."

"To be honest, I agree with Lando one hundred percent."

Oscar replied, looking once more at the back of the girl's body.

"My thighs are a disaster! What kind of racing driver has such big thighs?"

The girl burst out, turning again towards them.

"Max has nice thighs," Lando pointed out, thinking for a moment, "I'm sure his thighs are the national pride of the Netherlands."

Y/N wasn't in the mood to joke. Devastated, she looked down her body.

Oscar walked up to her and hugged her without saying a word.

"You look beautiful. And you have a really amazing figure"

Lando walked over to his friends and hugged them as well.

The girl felt a little better with the support of her friends. However, for a moment she forgot that men would be men and nothing would ever dissuade them from having dirty thoughts.

"I agree with Oscar, because you really look great," Lando started. Oscar looked at him, knowing full well what was coming and knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop it. "But with all the respect I have for you as a friend and as a woman in general, holy shit, I would pay extra for you to strangle me with your thighs. And man, that mad bunda, too."

Y/N didn't know what to say for a moment. She only felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Did she just receive the strangest compliment of her life?

She freed herself a little from her friends' embrace and looked at Lando's face.

"Seriously?"

He seeing that his comment was not received negatively, quickly nodded.

"You have such a body that-" "Lando meant that you shouldn't worry about what you look like because you look really great."

Oscar interjected, knowing full well that Lando's comments should be kept to himself.

The girl smiled weakly and sniffled. Her friends' words lifted her spirits a bit.

"My only concern now is how I will get this contraption off of me."

Lando and Oscar smirked, involuntarily exchanging glances.

"I think we can help you with that."

[standfucker]

Post-Injury Hurt/Comfort Series - Monster Trio

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji

Reader: GN

Word Count: 3.3k

CW: blood, gore, graphic depictions of injury, stitches

Ao3 Link

After writing The Break, I've always wanted to do drabbles of the same scenario for other characters, so here we are. ( 0v0)/

Luffy

It happens in an instant. One moment, you’ve brought your mace down on the head of the lion Zoan, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. You collapse next to his body, exhausted from the fight.

The next moment, the lion Zoan lunges at you from the floor, one massive paw smashing into your face with all the strength of their devil fruit, sickle claws tearing your flesh open.

You go flying. You hit the ground hard, leaving a smear of blood from your body skidding. Dazed, you try and get your bearings, berating yourself for letting your guard down early, praying it didn’t cost you the fight. The lion Zoan snarls and charges you.

“Gum-Gum Whip!”

The sight of your captain intercepting your opponent brings a heavy relief–if Luffy’s finished with his own opponent, that means your part is done, too. You can finally catch your breath.

With the rest comes the dull, burning pain across your face. The enemy mostly got you in the nose and mouth, miraculously missing your eyes. Blood runs from your nose and mouth and drips from your chin, bleeding as heavily as a head wound. Still, you’re not too concerned. It’s only when the rest of the crew catches up to you and you try to talk that you realize how much damage the lion did, because not only does speaking hurt, but Nami makes a face at the sight of you.

The local anesthetic that Chopper gives you helps a little bit, but it still hurts when he realigns your nose and stitches up the gashes. Luffy holds your hand the entire time, knowing you hate needles.

“Good job, Y/n!” Luffy says after Chopper’s done. “You’re real tough!”

“Thanks, Captain.” You sigh. “I would have been fine if I hit him again, but I thought he was down. I forgot how resilient Zoans can be.”

“You didn’t want to kill him.”

“I know, I shouldn’t take these fights so lightly–”

“Y/n, that’s a good thing.” Luffy stretches an arm around your shoulder. “You’re a good person. Besides, I was able to take him out easily because of the damage you did.”

“Nami looked horrified when she saw my face,” you say. “I must look like a mess.”

“You do,” Luffy says honestly, making you smile–which pulls on your stitches.

“Owww, oh…smiling hurts.”

“Then don’t smile!”

“I can’t help it. You make me smile. You know this.”

Luffy rubs his chin, eyes rolling up as he thinks. “Then I should stay away from you.”

“Nooo, don’t do that! I need you around to cheer me up! Especially now.” You take his hand that’s hanging around your shoulder, feeling your chest lighten when he squeezes back.

“Well, in that case, I’ll just not make you smile!” he says.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” You chuckle, then look at the mirror hanging on the wall. If you need to lower your mood, there’s an easy shortcut–the combination of your inflamed, swollen skin, plus the stitches make you look nothing short of monstrous.

Luffy notices your face falling. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s going to scar. And not even in a cool way.” Living with severe facial scarring probably won’t be that bad–you are a pirate, after all–but it’ll still be new. And, to be honest, you’re not ready for your appearance to change so dramatically.

“What are you talking about? It’ll be super cool!” Luffy says earnestly. “Everyone will know what a strong pirate you are!”

He’s trying to cheer you up. You don’t want to bring him down in the dumps with you, but you can’t help but be bummed out.

“But what if I don’t want to look cool?” you say. “What if I just want to look like me? I mean, who could possibly find a face like this appealing?” You ghost your fingers over the stitches on your lips. “Who would kiss lips like mine?”

You think you’re holding it in okay, but the admission has you tearing up. You’re being ridiculous–you should be happy to be alive. But why did it have to be your face? Why…

Luffy stares at you in that way he does when he’s thinking. You can’t tell what’s going through his mind.

It happens in an instant.

One moment you’re sitting next to each other in silence. The next moment, he wraps his other arm around you, pulls you in close, and lightly presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

It hurts a little, but it also feels so good that your tears break free and sting where they roll over your cuts.

“Did that hurt? I’m sorry, Y/n,” Luffy says when he pulls away.

“No, no! It was nice! It was really nice.” You have to fight not to smile.

“Oh, good! I liked it too!” he giggles, looking overjoyed.

“When I heal up, will you do that again?”

“I can do it right now!” Luffy says eagerly, but you clear your throat and tilt your head toward the doorway.

Chopper is standing there, little hooves on his hips, thoroughly unimpressed with the both of you and your method of boosting morale.

Zoro

Zoro was always one to downplay his injuries. Next to Chopper, you gave him the most trouble for it out of anyone in the crew. He figured that so long as he got medical attention, the extent of the injuries was no big deal.

He never expected to be on the receiving end.

In the heat of battle, he’s entirely focused on his opponent. This enemy crew is tough, but not the strongest they’ve faced. Strong enough to demand his full concentration.

However, Zoro knows the unique sound of a sword cutting through flesh. When he hears the shhk! noise behind him and remembers you’re also fighting a sword user, he’s so badly distracted he almost gets hit. He has just enough presence of mind to finish off his enemy before turning around.

That’s when he sees you fire a bullet into your opponent’s leg, your free arm wrapped around your stomach. There’s blood seeping between your fingers. In the time it takes him to rush to your side, you shoot your opponent again in the other leg, making him crumple, then once in each arm, rendering him completely unable to fight back from where he lays.

“Yo,” you say casually, but you’re trembling all over. Your torn shirt is staining quickly.

“You got cut,” Zoro states. He tries to pull your arm away so he can see your wound better, but you step back.

“I’m okay,” you say. You and Zoro both look down at your abdomen as you pull your arm away just slightly, and Zoro sees the unmistakable grayish-pink of your large intestine before you quickly plug up the gash with your arm again. You look back up at him. “It’s just a scratch.”

Zoro’s about ready to stab you himself, his eyes going wide with horror and rage. 

“Are you insane?!” he shouts. “A scratch?! Shit, where’s Chopper–?!”

“Ha ha–ow ow ow, hurts to laugh.” You grin, but Zoro notices you tearing up from the pain.

“Okay, just, stay still,” his hands are held up hesitantly, unsure of what to do, and he calls over his shoulder. “CHOPPER! Get over here right now!”

Once Chopper arrives, he applies an emergency field dressing and instructs Zoro on how to safely carry you back to the ship’s infirmary. You act like you’re in high spirits the entire way there, smiling up at Zoro like everything’s fucking dandy.

“This is kinda nice,” you say. “I haven’t been carried since I was little.”

“After you heal,” Zoro says, “I’ll carry you around as much as you want, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he says gently. “Does it hurt?”

“Of course not,” you say, and Zoro curses himself for having asked–he can see you wince with every harsh step he tries to avoid.

“We’re almost there. Almost there.”

“Relax, big guy. I’ve been through worse.”

You haven’t. He’s been in every major fight you’ve been through, and it’s never been this bad. Your blood is still warm on his skin, and your color’s getting paler, and it’s all because he couldn’t protect you.

The surgery takes longer than he thought. He’s pacing the hallway outside the infirmary so much that even Sanji starts to make a comment, which would have started a fight had Robin not intervened and sternly told them both that everyone was worried.

When you come to, it’s to the sight of Zoro standing over your bed. You don’t manage so much as a ‘yo’ before Zoro gets onto his hands and knees, bowing so low his head touches the floor.

“I’ll never let it happen again!” he says, minding his volume–Chopper is only allowing him to visit because Zoro promised he wouldn’t stress you out. “It’s my fault! I’m sorry–”

“Get up.” 

He peers up at you. Your face is twisted up like you’re holding something back, but you force it into a sneer.

“Get up right now, or I’m going to make fun of you,” you say. He hesitates long enough for you to roll your eyes. “Don’t be a pussy.”

That brings him right back to his feet. “What’d you call me?!”

“You heard me,” you say. “I’m alive, aren’t I? So relax.”

“I can’t relax!” Zoro snaps. “You got hurt because of me! I was too weak! I couldn’t–couldn’t stop this from happening!”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever?!” He no longer minds his volume. “How can you be so–so calm about this?!”

“How can you be making this about yourself?”

That shuts him up real quick. Realizing his mistake, Zoro starts to get a sour feeling in his stomach, but you only smile.

“Now you know what it feels like,” you chuckle and wince, “ow–what it feels like to have someone be dismissive of your injuries. So the next time you get hurt, you big dumb idiot, how about you have some self awareness and let me worry?”

Zoro deflates a little. “I still can’t just forgive myself like that.”

“I’ll do it for you.” You hold out your hand until he takes it. “Roronoa Zoro, I forgive you–so long as you do one thing for me.”

He leans in. “Anything. What is it?”

“Even with the pain meds, I’m still sore. Kiss it better?” You smile the way you do when you’re joking, but it soon turns to a look of surprise when Zoro leans in even closer. He hesitates for a moment, face hovering above yours, before his free hand comes to cradle the back of your head and he presses a firm, intent kiss to your lips.

You stare at him when he pulls away, your expression slowly morphing into a smile–not a playful one, not a masking one, but a real smile.

“W-What’s with that look?” Zoro says, flustered now. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“I meant kiss my stomach, dummy.”

Zoro’s eyes widen, but before he can remedy his mistake, you weakly pull him back in for another kiss. This time, he obliges without question.

Sanji

Sanji barely dodges a brutal strike from his opponent, then finishes them off with a flaming kick to the skull. You grin at him as you down your own opponent with a heavy strike from one of your tonfa.

“Careful there, Hotfoot! He almost got you!” you yell gleefully, only to narrowly avoid getting hit yourself.

“Worry about yourself, Sticks!” Sanji calls back, mirroring your grin.

“They’re not sticks!” you say yet again, smashing one of the tonfa into a pirate’s head and knocking them out cold. “You’re just jealous I can fight with my hands!”

“I choose not to fight with my hands!”

“Sure you do!”

You were well aware of Sanji’s commitment to only use his hands to cook, but it was still fun to pretend it was a skill issue. Sanji knew it was all teasing anyway. The two of you greatly enjoyed your banter, whether in or outside of battle. As physical fighters, your rivalry was a friendly one. After all, out of everyone in the crew, you spent the most time talking to each other.

The next wave of pirates comes, this time stronger than before–the enemy’s commanding officers. The battle becomes too serious for you to go on making comments, and your focus gets pulled toward your opponents.

It’s a hard, bloody fight. As soon as he defeats his opponent, he worries about how the others are faring. The rest of the crew is almost done with their own one-on-ones, and he finds himself rushing to find you first, his pace hurrying when he finds one of your tonfa lying off to the side.

You’re straddling your opponent on the ground. Your non-dominant hand is broken, held crookedly against your chest, and you’re bleeding from your hairline and mouth. With your good hand, you beat your tonfa into your opponent’s skull, over and over, a broken cry tumbling from your bloody lips with every strike. Your opponent is no longer moving, but you don’t stop, tears streaming from your eyes as you mash his face to a visceral pulp.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Sanji skids to a stop next to you, grabbing your wrist before you can strike again. “He’s dead! It’s over. It’s over. You won.”

You look at him with wide eyes. Your mouth is held open, and at first, Sanji doesn’t realize what’s wrong, but he can tell you only won by a hair from the way you’re trembling. He gets down and pulls you into a gentle hug. “I got you,” he says. “I got you. You’re okay now.”

He holds you at arm’s length and checks over your body for any injuries, finding none. Mouth still open, you pull away from him and start patting the grass with your good hand, searching for something. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” he says. “Please, say something.”

Sanji expects something tired and sarcastic, like ‘you don’t look much better.’ Instead, you make a strange, groaning noise as your response, and he feels a chill run through his body. You always had a quick retort for him, even when things were dire.

You seem to find what you were looking for, your hand closing around something. Sanji helps you stand up, and when you open your hand, he sees a few teeth in your palm that must have gotten knocked out.

“Your jaw’s broken,” Sanji realizes aloud, and you nod, and suddenly the way you hold your mouth open is deeply unsettling.

The silence that follows your surgery, however, puts Sanji at an even greater unease. Your jaw is wired shut to let the bone heal, and Chopper says that for the next six weeks, you won’t be able to speak at all.

You carry around a notepad with you, but for a while after you wake from the anesthesia, you don’t write anything down except to answer Chopper’s questions, opting instead to sulk.

“Come on, Sticks,” Sanji says lightly as he signs the cast on your hand. “I know you have something to say.”

You flick him off with your good hand, then seem to regret it, your face fallin along with your hand. Sighing through your nose, you grab your notepad and scribble something down, then hold it up for him to see.

‘I look like a chipmunk.’

The lower half of your face has, naturally, swollen up. Sanji shakes his head. “No, no, you look fine! You…” A pointed look from you makes him concede. “Okay, yeah. It’s swollen. What did you expect?” You look away, and he pats your shoulder. “Ah, come on, it’s not so bad. Most people find chipmunks cute, you know.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you give him a look of surprise. Sanji stiffens.

“Um, well, I mean…” he stammers. Though he doesn’t leave, for the rest of that day, you both avoid looking at each other.

From the beginning to the end of your healing process, Sanji stays by your side, always finding a way to make you feel better. He’ll hype you up by doing a drumroll while he’s waiting for you to finish writing out a thought, something which the rest of the crew picks up as well. When you’re hanging out with him in the galley, he’ll do hibachi tricks with the food he prepares to cheer you up.

The food he makes for you especially helps you get through the long weeks. You were severely bummed out at having to miss his cooking for weeks–until the first sip of the soup he cooked. You never knew a liquid diet could be so delicious. Sanji takes the time to roast and blend anything you’d wanted. Thanks to him, being unable to chew food doesn’t affect your nutrient intake at all.

He also indulges you in your favorite drink without you having asked, which is surprising. It’s not the first time he’s gone out of his way like this, but it does feel more special when you’ve been in such a vulnerable state.

‘Maybe there’s an upside to this after all.’

Sitting in the galley while Sanji cooks, you hold up your notepad for him to read.

“And what is that?” he says, walking around the prep table with a mixing bowl in his arms, looking down at what you’re writing.

‘I love y’

You pause, staring at your notepad with a weird, dumbstruck look. Sanji’s eyes widen, slowing down his mixing for a second, but you quickly recover and finish scribbling.

‘I love you treating me extra special.’ You hold up the notepad hesitantly, avoiding his eye. 

Though feeling warmth rise in his chest, Sanji plays it cool. “Well, I’m glad you’re finding the positive in this,” he says. “I personally miss the sound of your voice.”

You drop your notepad and fumble to catch it with only one good hand, accidentally smacking it to the floor. Both you and Sanji crouch down to pick it up, and freeze when your hands touch.

The urge to say ‘sorry’ is strong, though you can’t speak. Face burning, all you can do is look at him apologetically and hope he understands. But when you do, he’s looking back at you with the same expression he has when he reads a brand new recipe. Like he’s figuring something out.

You go to pull your hand away, but his fingers close around yours. “I, uh… I really mean that, you know.”

Swallowing, you glance down at his hand holding yours, then back up at him, and nod.

“Y/n,” he says, letting go of your hand to instead cup your cheek tenderly. “Would you… I mean. Can I…?”

With your heart pounding, you nod again, and Sanji leans in. You close your eyes, and a moment later, his lips brush yours, feather-light. Just that barest contact makes your head spin almost as bad as it did when you got your injury in the first place.

Sanji breaks free, and you stare at each other. A slow smile spreads across your lips at the sight of his nose starting to bleed. You both stand up, and you write something down quickly.

‘I’m sorry I can’t kiss you back.’

“That’s okay,” he says, reading the note over your shoulder. He rubs the back of his neck, grinning. “I’ll gladly do all the work.”

And Sanji does, in the quiet, private moments where it’s just the two of you. And yet, when the day finally comes for Chopper to remove the wires, and the first thing you do upon leaving the exam room is call out Sanji’s name, he’s so elated that he picks you up with a spin, kissing you in front of everyone before he can help himself.