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helplesslypurple77 · 3 months ago

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Day 6-Cumming in Pants-Illumi/Reader

Notes: I have never actually sewed a mens suit, because 1. Tailoring is REALLY FUCKING HARD and finicky as hell 2. I'm a woman who has no need for one, and 3. I hate sewing mens clothes their boring

Anyway, enjoy. Also btw 70,000 jenny is about 700 usd

also title is from 'English Love Affair' by 5sos

...

As a seamstress located in Yorknew city, you got a large volume of clientele. Be it wealthy businessmen wanting a high quality suite or spoiled princesses shopping for their next dress, you pride yourself in your high quality work and your range of designs. You made sure to treat each and every patron of your business with respect, even the strange characters you often received. Because of course, as the wealthy clients wore their clothes to gatherings, you gained a reputation for your quality and openness. And of course, the odd ones took notice.

The first hunter you had ever tailored clothes for had been kind of normal, only requiring a special waterproof fabric. But the weirdness had increased and increased and now you regularly got a parade of weird guests after weird guests.

From simple garments that required special skills or fabrics, to gravity defying outfits that any designer would turn down, you took them all. At a handsome price, of course.

It was raining. Thunder rattled the glass windows of your shop, rain hitting them so hard you worried for a moment they might break. It was dark outside, the blackness only momentarily illuminated by flashes of lightning. You hummed along with the headphones in your ears, carefully cutting the black fabric laid across your cutting table. Cutting was probably one of your least favorite parts, but it was ok right now, the music in your ears and the rain a faint lovely sound on your windows.

Your shop and studio were the same, situated in a nice part of town. Your shop was in a pleasant little street, filled with mom and pop shops and cafes, and off the beaten path far enough that you might half to know where to look. You weren't looking to incur any damages, and you especially didn't want robbers or crime near your precious creations. You did have a hunter's license, in order to hunt certain types of hides, and you were moderately powerful and would be able to protect yourself in a bad situation, but you didn't like fighting. You would prefer it if you didn't have to defend yourself at all.

Rain hits the long windows of your shop with a loud pattern, thunder cracking in the background. You humm, a calm russian pop playing through your airpods, dancing around your cutting table. You have certain songs you like playing during rain storms, just to give the right vines. Right now your favorites are В последний раз, and Goodnight Moon—

Your front door opened with a slam. You jump, one of your airpods falls out of your ear and onto the cutting table. A figure stands in your doorway. The figure is tall, with long flowing hair flipping wildly in the wind. Rain hits the hardwood floor a few feet in front of him and you push your shock and fear away and glare at the stranger.

“Can I help you?” You say, standing tall and crossing your arms. “You're getting rain all over my floors.”

The man tilts his head, backlit by the lightning, but you can kind of make out his face. He has pale skin, and big dark eyes, as dark as the night behind him. After a moment of consideration, he steps forwards into the light, letting the door close behind him.

You bend down, picking up your airpod and carefully putting both of them away before you can lose them.

The man in your doorway doesn't attempt to shake himself dry or remove the wet hair soaking water on the princess sleeves of his odd green outfit. It takes you one careful look over him to realize he's a hunter. The one lesson you’ve learned in your work with hunters over the years is not one of them dresses normally. Fastest way to spot a hunter in public is to look for the person wearing a discount spirit Halloween jester outfit or wearing what could only be described as a tree cutout robbed straight from a middle school play.

The man in the doorway tilts his head.

“You are a seamstress.” He says. It takes you a moment to realize that was a question. “You were recommended to me by my father.”

“I am a seamstress, yes.” You say, eyeing him carefully up and down. “But I'm closed right now.”

“Oh,” The man says, and then continues to stand still as a statue a few feet in front of your door. He looks a bit like a drowned kitten with big black eyes, surrounded by long black hair that sticks to his face, his clothes, his arms. He looked uncomfortable.

“I have a shower,” You say, trying to sound inviting. “You can use my dryer as well if you’d like.”

The man tilts his head slightly, black hair cascading in a wet curtain down his back. You wince as water hits your previously clean hardwood floor. He looks a bit like a porcelain doll, his face mostly eyes and confused blank expression. Finally, he speaks.

“Yes, that would be nice.” He says, stepping farther into your room. You hold out your arm to stop him.

“Stop, you're gonna get my fabric wet,” you sigh, motioning for him to stand still by the door. “Just wait here, I'll be right back.”

The man looks down, lifting his arm experimentally, as if he just remembered he's soaking wet at all. Water cascades off his arm, forming a small puddle beneath him.You sigh, massaging your forehead as you go and fetch some towels from your linen closet. When you return, the man is still standing still by the door. You hand him the towels, trying for a friendly smile. You're very tired.

“Try to dry off as much as you can,” You say, turning back to your cutting table. No reason not to get some work done. You're almost done cutting out the mock up when you feel a tap on your shoulders.

“Yeah?” You ask, trying to finish cutting out the piece you were in the middle of cutting.

“Where is the shower,” The man says from behind you.

“Oh, I'll show you.” You say, turning around. The man has rolled his long hair up in one of the towels you had handed him. In his hands, he's holding a bundle of green and yellow fabric. Fabric the almost exact color his clothes had been. You drop your scissors with a clatter, abruptly closing your eyes.

“Why are you naked?” You ask, trying to remain calm. You had only gotten a glimpse but the man looked pretty built.

“You told me not to track water on your fabric.” The man says, sounding very confused. You take a deep breath and massage your temples, keeping your eyes closed.

“I didn't mean–you know what, never mind.” You say, turning back to your cutting table and opening your eyes. In the foggy reflection of the window opposite you can catch some glimpses of skin and muscles, but you do your best not to look.

“Follow me,” You say, moving towards the back stairs, the ones that lead up to your small flat. The sound of wet feet hitting your hardwood floor follows you, so you assume the man is following you.

“Are you afraid of the human form, Miss…” The man asks. You scoff. You would assume he was mocking you, but the total lack of emotions in his voice gave away the fact that it was a genuine question.

“Name, and no, obviously not.” You say, “I just didn't expect you to be naked. What's your name again?”

“Illumi,” The man, Illumi says. “I apologize for startling you.”

You sigh, opening the door to the back stairs and starting up. Illumi follows you.

“It's fine, Mr Illumi.” You say, reaching to the top of your stairs and opening the door of your small apartment. “You can leave your clothes on the table. I'll put them in the wash.”

Illumi doesn't say anything, but you assume he nodded. The door closes behind him, blocking out the sounds of rain. You flip on the lightswitch, and golden light floods the small living room of your apartment. You slip off your shoes, and move deeper into the apartment.

“You have a nice house,” Illumi says, and you hear the wet slap of his clothes hitting your kitchen table as he continues, “although your security is poor.”

“Thanks, I guess.” You say, choosing to brush off the last comment. “The bathroom is this way.”

You walk past your open bedroom door, silently praying Illumi does not see what a mess it is, and open the small door of your bathroom, switching on the lights.

“Here we are,” You say, turning around and abruptly being reminded that he's only wearing two towels. You yank your eyes from his abs and stair at his drowned face. “You can use whatever you want in there.”

Illumi nods his head up and down, the towel on his air bobbing comically. He blinks his big eyes slowly looking at you with what can only be categorized as curiosity.

“Why did you help me?” He asks. You frown in confusion.

“What?”

“Why did you let me into your home?” He asks again, tilting his head. He really does look kinda sad and pathetic, if you ignore the rest of his mostly naked body.

“Uh…” you say, thinking for a moment. “I felt bad for you? You look like a drowned kitten.”

“Oh,” Illumi says, frowning. Then after a pause, “thank you.”

“Your welcome,” You laugh, leaning past him to grab a large towel from your upstairs linen closet, and pass it to him. He takes it and steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You're digging through your clothes drawers for some of your ex-boyfriend's clothes you know you kept when you hear the shower switching off. You hurry, grabbing some soft gray sweatpants and one of his old t-shirts and knock on the bathroom door.

“Illumi? I have some clothes for you to borrow.” You say, folding them and stacking them neatly into a pile. The door flips open and you avert your eye, shoving the clothes in his direction until you feel them leaving your hands. The door doesn't close though, and you close your eyes as clothing rustles, until the rustling has stopped for at least ten seconds. Only then do you open your eyes. Illumi looks much less drowned rat now, his pale skin still a little pink from the shower. His hair is wrapped up in a towel, and you're happy to note your ex-boyfriend's stuff fits him fine.

“Your stuff will be done in about ten minutes,” you say, turning away and leading him back down the small hallway and into your living room as you continue. “You mentioned you had business with me?”

“Yes,” Illumi says as you move into your kitchen, starting the kettle. He's still standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room like an odd statue when you turn around. You giggle.

“You can sit down,” You say, urging him into motion. He obeys, sitting upright in one of your armchairs, hands folded neatly in his lap. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes,” Illumi says, and you pull two mugs out of the cabinet as he continues. “I was told your work is excellent.”

You select a chamomile tea out of the tea cabinet and put a tea bag into each cup.

“It is,” You say. “Who said that though.”

“My father,” Illumi says. You scan your brain for anyone he could possibly be referring to and come up empty.

“Did you need something made?” You ask instead, pouring the hot water into the mugs and putting a plate over them to let them steep. “I'm a bit swamped right now with an unusual request, but if it's easy I can totally make something for you.”

“Mother told me my suit is too small.” Illumi says, still sitting stiff and unnatural on one of your cushy chairs. You grab both of the mugs, placing one on the coffee table in front of Illumi.

“A suite, huh.” You say, taking a sip of your chamomile tea and letting the warmth sooth your bones. As far as normal garments go, Suites would probably be one of the hardest garments ever. Making a suite was one thing, making a well tailored suit in a small time frame without five hundred fittings was quite another. But, in your profession you had long ago learned that there were worse things you might be forced to make than a suite. This one time, this guy had shone up and requested to have a ball for a waist, and be able to use it in combat. You had done it, somehow. At least he had been hot, if very fucking weird. You shake your head, taking a ship of your tea.

“I can make you a suit, yeah.” You say as you place your cup on the coffee table. “Let me get my schedule book and I'll write you in.”

“Im busy,” Illumi replies, sitting bold upright in your chair, tea clutch between his pale fingers. “Can you do it now?”

“Sew a suit, right now, while you're here?” You ask incredulously, sitting back into your chair.

Illumi nods jerkily, taking a robotic sip of his drink and setting it on the table.

“Please,” he says. The room sinks into silence for a moment as you take a few deep breaths, holding back a laugh.

“I have inconvenienced you.” Illumi says, and you decide to take pity on him.

“Is there a specific time frame you need to suit?” You ask, reaching forward to pick up your tea. “I can schedule you as soon as possible.”

“Mother says in two weeks,” Illumi says, a few strands of hair falling from the towel turban he put his hair in. in the distance you hear your dryer beek aggressively, signifying Illumis clothes have finished drying. You stand, moving towards your small laundry room, shouting over your shoulder as you continue.

“You said your father recommended me, right?”

Illumi nods, taking another sip of camomile tea. “He said he gets his work clothes from you. He said your work holds up under extreme stress.”

“I make a lot of specialty clothes for hunters,” You say, bending down to pull Illumis dry clothes out of your front loading washer. “So it kind of has too. Is your father a hunter?”

“Assassin.” Illumi says. You nod, holding his warm clothes and slamming the laundry room door with your foot.

“Ah, you must be Silva’s son then.” You say, handing Illumi his warm, staticky clothes. He takes them, tilting his head to the side.

“How did you know?” he asks, big eyes blinking slowly.

You giggle, taking his empty cup from the coffee table and putting it into your sink, along with your own half full one.

“I don't get many assassins for clients.” You say, running water into the cups and putting them into your almost full dishwasher. You make a note to start it after Illumi leaves.

“You know, your dad has a fitting in a couple days.” You start, grabbing your appointment book from the countertop and moving back into the small living room as you flip through it. “ How about you come with him and I'll take your measurements? That sound good?”

Illumi sits still, head tilted as he blinks slowly, considering.

“Alright,” Illumi finally answers, and you nod, writing it into your book.

His clothes are still resting in his lap and you hop up, grabbing a bag from your closet. It's an old plastic take out bag. You take his clothes from him again as he thinks, putting them in the bag and handing it back.

He looks at it in confusion. You smile, handing him a paper bag filled with the weird pins that had been stuck in the front of the clothes, and what looked like an id of some kind and a phone.

“That way your clothes wont get wet,” You say with a smile, glancing at the clock. It's getting pretty late at night, around ten forty five. The sound of Illumis phone ringing cuts through the silence, and you jump. Illumi pulls an archaic looking flip phone out of the paper bag, flipping it open with a satisfying snap.

“Yes?”

Someone's voice can be heard on the other line, yelling rather loudly. You pretend not to pay attention out of politeness, but strain your ears to hear something. Unfortunately you can catch anything and Illumi hangs up, rising to his feet abruptly.

“I have to go,” he says, “where should I change?”

“No knead,” You say, standing up and getting your appointment book on the table.

“But your clothes,” He says, gesturing down on himself. You smile.

“Dont worry about it, there my ex boyfriends old things.” You say, moving towards the front door. “I was just gonna donate them anyway.”

Illumi follows you, silent but for the rustling of the bags you had provided him. His footsteps made no noise, you hadn't noticed before because of the rain. Opening the door of your flat you step into the much colder stairwell and shiver.

“I'm sorry i don't have a jacket for you,” You say, bare feet padding down the concrete stairs. “It's quite cold out.”

“As an assassin, I was raised to withstand below zero temperatures,” Illumi informs you blankly as you reach the button of the stairs, opening the door into your shop.

“Well that's good.” You say, holding the door open as Illumi steps through, into the barely illuminated back room of your shop. A few mannequins standing in the corner look threateningly like real humans, and you giggle as Illumi stops still, staring at them before moving on.

“Jump scared by the manquines?” You ask. Illumi frowns, shaking his head.

“No.” He says, walking a little faster. You giggle, he must be embarrassed.

“So, you’ll be back in a few days for our appointment, right?” you ask, standing a few feet away from the front door. Illumi, holding two plastic bags of clothes and nicknacks against his chest, nods.

“Yes,” He says, and then a second later, “I apologize for inconveniencing you.”

You giggle. He's a bit cute, in a wild animal kind of way. You move closer, reaching up to yoink the towel from his head, watching his long hair tumble over his shoulders. He shakes his head like a dog, his long silky hair falling into place. His ears are red as he opens the door, stepping into the rain. You wave, and he nods in response as the door shuts with a heavy clunk.

You smile all night as you lock up your room, shutting the doors and securing the windows and waving goodbye to the threatening dress forms in the corner.

Tonight certainly was interesting.

🪡🪡🪡

The sun is shining across your floors, when Illumi and Silva arrive for their appointment. The door opens with a chime of bells, and you look up from your design sketchbook and grin.

“Ah, there you are.” You say, putting your sketchbook and the table and rising to greet the men touring by the door. “I almost thought you wouldn't show up.”

“I apologize, Miss Name,” SIlva says, smiling down at you. He really does tower over you, in stature and height. “Be polite and apologize for the inconvenience, Illumi.”

Illumi, standing a bit behind his father, nods.

“I apologize Miss Name,” He says, looking somehow both lost and sincere at the same time. You laugh.

“It's no biggie, you guys were only a few minutes late,” You say, leading them both into the main area, and grabbing the outfit Silva had requested. “I made the alterations we talked about last time, so hopefully everything fits this time!”

You hand Silva the formal suit jacket he had requested, and motion for him to change. He nods.

“Where can my son sit while we finish this up?” He asks. You nod, turning to look at Illumi who has been standing awkwardly in the middle of your studio with a laugh.

“Illumi, you can take a seat over there if you like.” You say, gesturing at the comfy chairs off to the side of your studio. Illumi nods, moving towards the chairs and sitting down with a thump. His hands fold over his lap and you giggle.

“Your son has great manners,” You whisper, leaning over in Silva's direction. The large man chuckles, brushing his long hair out of the way as he slips the black suite over his white button down.

“My wife has taught him well in that department,” He grins as you survey the fit of the jacket. “Although we have our concerns.”

“Oh really?” you ask, probably more interested than you should be. “How is the fit?”

“Good,” Silva says, raising his arms above his head. “Well as Illumi has gotten older, Kikyo and I worry he'll never marry.”

You stifle a giggle, subtle looking at Illumi as he sits still in your chair, looking around at the framed sketches on your wall. You frame designs you were especially proud of, with proof pictures of course. You turn back to Silva, a little confused.

“Really? He's quite handsome,” You say, checking the back seam as Silva flexes his muscles. The suite stays intact, not even straining. Silva looks at you oddly.

“You think,” He says, smiling slightly. “Well, lately he has expressed interest in a certain woman. Kikyo and I are thrilled.”

“Oh, really?” You say, your heart sinking in your chest a little. When had you even realized you were attracted to him? Maybe you were just disappointed that a handsome man was off the market. “That's just great.”

Silva nods, smiling a secretive smile as he sheds the jacket, handing it back to you.

“The fit is lovely,” He says, “I'm quite satisfied.”

You smile, your heart feeling a bit odd, and turn to grab a bag, packing his suit jacket up carefully and neatly, tossing in a free sample handkerchief as you usually do, all the while feeling a bit sad. You don't quite want to admit why as you hand Silva the package, turning to Illumi sitting in the armchair with a sigh.

“Alright Illumi, let's get those measurements done.” You say, turning away to grab your measurement book and your tape measure. When you turn back, Illumi is standing a few feet in front of you. You hadn't heard him move at all. But you supposed that was expected for an assassin.

“Your shop is nice,” Illumi says, voice stilted as you move closer, wrapping the tape measure around his chest. You ignore the beating in your heart as you take the measurement, noting it down in your book.

“Thanks,” You say, turning back around to take the second measurement. “I try.”

Silence falls as your slightly trembling hands take the waist measurement. Illumi shifts slightly as you turn, noting the measurement in your book. Silence falls as you take the next few measurements, careful not to touch his body more than necessary. The shoulder, arm, and back measurements are all taken in awkward silence, until Illumi speaks again.

“The designs on your walls,” he says, “I recognize one.”

You have your back turned, writing down measurements and you turn to follow his pointing finger. He's pointing at a design you're rather proud of. The man who had decided he wanted a ball for a waist. You grin, proud of it as you turn back.

“Ah, Mr Morrow's design, one of my favorites.” You say, leaning down a bit to wrap the tape measure around his hips. “That design was a pain in the ass but it turned out so well.”

“You have sewed for Hisoka?” Illumi asks, shifting slightly as your hands pass over his hips, taking the measurement down mentally and turning around to write it on the page.

“Yes!” You say with a grin, “Pain in the ass design, but he was handsome and so I guess it was worth it.”

Illumi frowns slightly, shifting as you drop to your knees, taking the length of his legs. Faintly in the background, you hear Silva muffle a cough. You had forgotten for a moment he was there.

“You took his measurements?” He asks, frowning down at you. You look up in confusion, still on your knees with a tape measure in your hand, poised to do the inseam measurement.

“I take everyone's measurements?” You question, confused. “I had to do some really finicky stuff for that outfit, and it involved some odd and somewhat emberassingmeasruments.”

You explain, knees still firmly planted on the floor as you lower your tape measure. Illumi frowns, hands falling over his chest.

“I hope he did not inconvenience you.” He says, blinking very slowly. He sounds almost upset, but you shove it aside with a grin as you pick up your tape measure again.

“Oh, it wasn't too bad,” You say, gently taking the inseam measurement, careful not to brush any sensitive parts as you continue. “The costume was a pain, but he was very lovely to work with. His pretty face definitely helped. And the money, obviously.”

Illumi shifts slightly as you carefully take the inseam measurement.

“You guys friends?” You ask, finishing your inseam measurement and turning to write it in your book. Illumi coughs, shifting behind you with a rustling of fabric.

“I guess,” he says, a certain malice in his voice that you can't place.

“How nice,” You say, turning to write your final measurements, your heart feeling a bit heavy.

🪡🪡🪡

Silva and Illumi pay the whole 70,000 jenny upfront. You protest, but Silva waves it off with a grin, as he and Illumi disappear into the sunlight.

You hate to admit that you're really attracted to Illumi. You're not sure why. Maybe it's the whole wounded animal thing he was going on, or maybe it was his awkward nature and stilted conversation, but you were quite enamored with him.

But thanks to Silva, you now knew you had no chance with him.

The next few fittings with Illumi were an awkward mix of attraction and arousal on your end, and awkwardness at his end. He tried to make small talk with you, and you replied, but every conversation made you more and more sure he would never be attracted to you.

He was even kind enough to bring you a lovely bouquet of red roses and white baby's breath, and apologize for the night you had first met. Every kind gesture made your heart hurt, but you accepted them with a smile. Every time you saw those roses, your heart hurt.

🪡🪡🪡

It was around seven when the events started. You were bone tired, body flopping onto the bed after a long day of standing over a table. Your back ached as you sighed, closing your eyes.

Your phone lay beside you, digging into your back slightly as you relaxed. But you couldn't quite relax. There was a familiar, thrumming energy running through your body. You were horny.

Sighing, you stroked your nipples gently through your thin shirt, already having shed your bra as soon as you entered the room. Your other hand slowly winds down, stroking your pussy gently over your panties.

You're so horny. Maybe it has something to do with Illumi’s fittings. Having your hands all over him in a professional manner was too much. He had such a fit physique, you longed to grip his muscled shoulders, free of the fabric between your skin. You whimper, pressing a finger knuckle deep into your pussy with a sigh. You roll over slightly, back pressing into your phone.

You can't be bothered to take it out from under you, even when you hear a faint click.

Illumi happens to be near your shop when his phone rings. He answers it quickly, holding it up to his ear as he stands in the middle of the darkened sidewalk a few miles from your shop.

“Name?” He asks, standing a foot away from the ring of light cast by the sidewalk. The sweatpants he's wearing hang low on his hips. The sweat pants you had given him. They still smell like you still, and Illumi is ashamed to admit how hard he gets when he takes a whiff of their scent. Re refuses to relieve himself, as not to sully your name. It's become hard as of late, with your figure plaguing his dreams, your careful professional fingers brushing his skin. Illumi sighs, taking a deep breath.

You don't respond, the only sound he hears is a faint groan. Illumi starts moving towards your shop, worried.

“Illumi?” You say over the phone. Your voice shakes, sounding a bit odd. “Oh god Illumi!”

Illumi frowns, moving faster and faster towards your house. You sound like you're in some type of distress.

“Name,” He asks again, “are you alright?”

No reply, only a faint groan leaking through the phone. Illumi’s dick twitches in his pants as he races towards your shop.

“Oh Illumi, you’ve got to help me!” You exclaim through the phone. Your voice shakes lightly, heavy breathing coming through the speaker as Illumi picks the lock to your shop.

“Are you ok, name?” He asks again. You groan, and then the phone disconnects with a click. Illumi dashes through your darkened shop, up the concrete stairs, and opens your door as quietly as possible. If someone is hurting you, he’ll kill them in an instant.

You have two fingers shoved up your cunt when the door opens with a slam. You shriek, trying to hide the evidence of what you were doing as illumi stares down at your mostly naked body in shock. He's standing in your doorway, wearing the sweatpants you had given to him and a black muscle tea, and staring at your body in shock.

He looks so delicious, as he takes you in, his face looking a bit bewildered. You trace his body, your eyes catching on the obvious bulge in his pants, and grin.

“Illumi,” You coo, spreading your legs with a grin. He visibly gulps. “I need something from you.”

This all feels so sudden, the tension hanging in the air between you, the way his expressions of lust spell so plainly on his face. How could you have missed this. You wonder if you had missed other signs.

Illumi moves forward slowly, the door closing softly behind him, feet making no sound on your bedroom floor. He stands at the end of the bed awkwardly, dick twitching in the gray sweatpants he wears. You gulp down saliva, scooting a bit farther onto the bed.

“I want you to eat me out,” You say, bringing a hand down to spread your pussy lips. You watch Illumi gulp, want him crawls towards you on the bed until his head is positioned over your dripping pussy, his hair tickling your knees and thighs as he leans down.

“I apologize if this is unsatisfactory,” illumi says, his voice still as robotic and clinical as ever, even as his eyes tremble with arousal. “I lack the necessary experience to—”

You interrupt by gripping his hair, and shoving his face into your pussy. His body collapses on the bedspread, hands winding around your hips and waist, as your hand winds into the base of his long hair.

You groan, your back arching as he licks a long strip along your pussy, tonge passing gently over your clit.

You reward him with a tug on his hair, and he muffles a small groan into your pussy. The resulting jolt of pleasure runs through your spine, and his name escapes your mouth.

“That's good, so good.” You pants into the air, the hand not tangled in Illumis long hair notting into the white comforter around you. Illumi whimpers quietly, his own hips grinding into the carpet as you moan.

He's showering you with pleasure, his mouth going to town on you as your back arches, and your orgasm threatens to overwhelm you. You whimper, tugging at his hair.

“Oh god, I'm gonna cum.” You shiver, body jolting and jerking and Illumi fucks your whole with his tongue, his thumb drawing circles on your clit.

“Me too,” he murmurs into your pussy, and you watch as he grinds helplessly into the comforter, completely occupied with driving you mad with pleasure.

It's that sight that pushes you over the edge. His hair tangled on your legs, his hands gripping your body like you’ll disappear in an instant, the desperate thrusts of his hips into the comforter.

Your body tenses as you cum, back arching and hand pulling the hair knots in your hands. His voice is on your tongue as you orgasm, stars bursting in your eyelids, pleasure overwhelming your senses.

Illumi also tenses under your grip, muffling a faint moan of pleasure into your pussy, only prolonging your orgasm.

When you open your eyes, hazy from cumming and take him in over you, you feel more arousal running through your body.

He's looming over you, big doll eyes filled with lust, clothes long discarded. His hair falls over the two of you like an intimate curtain, hiding the outside world from view. His dick is bobbing back to life, big and ready to be inside you. A small, nervous smile is curing across his lips.

“Be my wife,” Illumi says, eyes darting anywhere but you. You grin, a feeling of elation running through your body as you reach up, gripping his face with your hand and looking deep into his eyes as you reply.

“Yes,” You say, and Illumis mouth devours you in a kiss so full of happiness you almost cry. Almost, until you feel that hardness pressing against your stomach and you reach down, storking it gently. Illumi moans into your mouth, choking slightly and you grin.

“You aren't busy, right?” You coo into his mouth. Illumi shakes his head.

“Good,’ You say, body twisting into his. “Because I think I'll have you occupied for the next couple hours.”

Illumi responds by kissing the breath from your lips.

...

Endnotes:

I HATE SCHOOL I HATE SCHOOL!!! I HATE SCHOOL I HATE SCHOOL!!!

Anyway, If you cant tell i would love to be a tailor/seamstress for a living, but alas my parents unfortunately raised me to have expensive taste and it's just not sustainable as a career. So it's a hobby for now.

#mariannacrxss #helplesslypurple77kinktober #hunter x hunter #hxh smut #hxh illumi #illumi x reader #illumi zoldyck #Hunter x Hunter #hxh x reader

226 notes · View notes

vincentbriggs · 4 months ago

Note

Hey, I wanted to ask, how you took track of your sewing machine parts?

I recently got a Pfaff K from 1909. She still sews fine, but I think it would do her good if I could get her a "spa day"

But I'm absolutely petrified of not being able to build her together after cleaning. Did you have a guide for yours, or did you take pictures?

Here she is btw, I juts love her:

And thank you in advance for your time :)

Oh that's lovely! What a fabulous foot pedal!

I didn't have any guide, since I couldn't find much of any info on my particular machine online, so yeah I just took a lot of pictures. (The manual does have an illustration of all the parts, but they're all separate so it wasn't much help.)

I took lots of before pictures of all the parts from multiple angles, and if there was a bit that came off and had smaller parts attached to it then I took more pictures before taking them off.

I also laid out the pieces in groups so I'd know which bits went together, and put the screws right next to the bits they attached to.

(I'm fortunate to have a table space where I can lay machine bits on paper towels knowing nobody will disturb them, but if you have any pets that might then it may be a good idea to sort them into little boxes or ziploc bags or something. I imagine these would be great fun for a cat to push onto the floor.)

All this made it pretty easy to put everything back together!

There was one screw I couldn't get out which prevented me from removing the long bits on the inside, but I think if I had I could have gotten them back in alright with enough careful wiggling. It was also REALLY REALLY HARD to get the wheel off, and the hinges, but I eventually managed.

There are a few tools that would have made it easier, like the guy in this video uses, but I managed okay with just some screwdrivers and veeery carefully bopping a few things gently with a ball peen hammer padded with rags. He also had to use wrenches for some parts, but my machine only had screws, or else I would have needed to borrow wrenches.

The most confusing bit was actually this ruffler attachment, which I also took apart and cleaned & oiled.

I took pics of it from every angle first, and I'm glad I did because it was not as intuitive to reassemble as the machine itself.

I should have measured exactly where things attached on the needle & presser foot bar, but didn't think to. But it was ok because the screws had left little dents in the surface, so I was able to get things lined up where they had been.

Good luck with your machine!

#I have a Pfaff 360 from around 1960 and it's a good solid machine with some great engineering but it's VERY UGLY #ask #sewing machine #treadle sewing machine #cleaning

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 8 months ago

Note

I love your writing! Can you please write a 2003!Leo X reader where Leo shows up at their apartment injured so they bandage him up and give him some comfort (by making him lay down and relax while they ride him)👀

Injured (Angst/Fluff) (18+)

2003!Leonardo x reader

A/N: Finally got around to write something!💚 I’ve been so busy, but I hope this was worth the wait💚 Btw, I’ve just started watching the Fallout series, so I had to stop myself from going to gorish.

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Description of wound, blood, mentioning of sewing a wound, masturbation?, stripping, unprotected sex, cowgirl position, implied orale - female receiving.

“What the hell happened?!”, you asked in a panic as you helped Leo in through your window, your body shaking at the sight of his hand, clutching his bleeding side, covering the palm of his hand in a deep red color.

“Foot ninjas”, your boyfriend muttered through gritted teeth, pain shooting across his face with every move, as you guided him towards the couch. “Wanted to get some night training in, but they surprised me. I was just lucky to be so close by”.

“Does anybody know that you’re out?”, you asked, your mind raising trying to remember everything that the turtles had taught you, in case something like this would happen. Granted, you had never thought it would happen…

“Yes”, Leo answered, his voice straining a bit, trying to cover the pain in his right side, while watching you hurry through your apartment, in order to find everything you needed. He knew very well that you were trying to keep him talking. Talking and awake. “I asked if they wanted to come along, but they said no. Probably a good thing”.

You almost fell down next to the couch, fumbling with the first aid kit in your hands, taking deep breaths in order to calm yourself. Just like Leo had taught you. And finally, you were able to open the first aid kit, feeling some form of calm wash over you, as you got to work on Leo’s wound.

You had never heard Leo make such sounds as the ones he did that night. He groaned in pain when you sewed his injury shut, his hands clutching on the couch pillows, his breathing heavy as he tried to calm himself. The pain a mutant was able to go through was still hard for you to wrap your head around. And for a moment you had to steady yourself, in order not to let your hands shake once again.

Once you had finally bandaged Leo’s wound, you helped him from your couch and into your bedroom, laying him down on your bed, so that he could relax, while you took on the task of cleaning your living room, from the red blood he had brought with him. You disinfected the hard surfaces, and took the fabric off of your couch, contemplating whether or not you should try to bleach it, or just get a whole new set. In the end, you decided to worry about it another day.

“How are you feeling?”, you asked as you reentered your bedroom, seeing Leo still laying on your bed.

“Better”, Leo smiled. “Can already feel it healing”.

“The perks of being a mutant”, you smiled, before taking a seat next to your boyfriend.

“I guess so”, Leo said, his hand instinctively finding yours, before interlocking your fingers.

You sat like this for a moment, smiling at each other, looking into each others’ eyes, before Leo's hands slowly came to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. You instinctively knew what this gesture meant, and with a small chuckle, you leaned down, before pressing your lips to Leo’s in a soft and sweet kiss. Leo let out a small hum - a sound of joy and relaxation. Sure, his wound may have been taken care of, but that did not change his still somewhat alert stage. So to feel you like this against him, made him calm down. His breathing deeper and his touch heavier against your cheek. You had experienced Leo’s minor changes in actions before, knowing very well what effect you had on him. Therefore it did not surprise you when his small hum turned into a small churr, somewhere deep within his chest, the hand on your face getting a soft yet firm grip on the side of your face. It was almost instinctive. Sudden yet very slow. Leo was holding back, both because of his wound, but also because of you. He would never do anything without making sure that it was okay with you.

With another small chuckle, you leaned your head to the side, allowing you to deepen your kiss, Leo’s hand moving from your face to your hair, tangling his fingers with your locks. You felt Leo’s tongue glide across your lower lip, asking you for entrance, which you gladly accepted. Your tongues danced together in a sloppy dance, small sounds of joy and excitement escaping the two of you.

Leo placed his other hand on the mattress, leaning on it as he tried to sit up, your lips still on each other. But he did not get far before you pushed him back down on the bed, breaking your kiss as you did so. Leo looked up at you in slight confusion, only to be met by a mischievous smile by you.

“You’re injured”, you said, your hands finding the bottom of your shirt before pulling it off. “And it’s my job to take care of you”.

Catching on to what you meant, Leo let out a strangled noise, feeling the need behind his cloaca grow. With lustful eyes he watched as your hands moved to the zipper of your pants, before slowly taking them off. Had he not had a gash in his side, he would have jumped on you by now. Instead he settled for curling one arm up around his head, letting his other slowly run towards his cloaca as he watched you slide your pants down your legs.

Once your pants were off, your hands slowly ran from your hips up to your chest, where you let your hands glide over your bra covered breasts. Catching Leo’s eyes as you did so, he let out another wounded sound, before slowly undoing himself from his cloaca, holding his erect member in his hand while he waited for you to continue your little show for him. And you did, undoing your bra before letting it fall to the floor, so that your hands could start massaging your chest. Leo chuckled with a small smile, his hand slowly beginning to work up and down his member.

“Beautiful”, he mumbled, his voice having gone deeper and slightly raspy, making your panties more wet than they already were. “Absolutely beautiful”.

You felt pride bobble within you. Leo’s words always seemed to have that kind of effect on you. Just like you could turn him on with his, so could he turn you on. And he knew it. He could smell it, your scent strong in the air, making him just a little light headed. And he loved it. He had always loved what the scent of your arousal was able to do to him.

Your hands went from your breasts and down to the hem of your underwear, taking a hold of them by hooking your thumbs, before slowly pulling them down your hips, all while maintaining your intense eye contact with Leo. This had Leo churring much louder, with his hand quickening its motion on his erect member. What eye contact couldn’t do to this man.

You let your panties fall to the floor before stepping out of them, making your way up on the bed, stradling Leo’s waist. Having retracted his hand from his member, in order to make room for you, Leo’s hands came to rest on your thighs, needling the flesh, before letting his right hand move upwards, with the intent of cupping your sex. However, you slapped his hand away with another mischievous smile.

“I just told you, I’m the one that’s going to take care of you”.

Leo relented, letting his hands run mindlessly up and down your thighs, watching as you took his throbbing member into your hand, letting your thumb run over the tip of his head, smearing his precum around.

Leo’s brow muscles frowned as he let out a shaky breath, watching your hand do slow tugs on him, before carefully lining him up with your entrance, teasing both you and him.

“(Y/N)...”, Leo let out in a low moan, his fingers holding on tight to your thighs.

You bit your lip with a smile, knowing exactly what it was that your boyfriend wanted, making sure that you were lined up, before slowly sliding down upon him. You let out a breathy moan as you felt his thickness stretch you out, the sound of Leo’s churring only becoming stronger and louder, his hands becoming restless on your thighs once more. If it wasn’t from the wound on his side, he would have thrusted up into you. He would have pulled you down, so that you would lay flat against his plastron, where he could allow himself to pound into you relentlessly. But he couldn’t, leaving his at the mercy of you to give him needed.

“Now, lay still”, you said, already breathless just from his size, before you slowly started to rise up his member, only to slide back down on it once more, making you both moan from the small wave of pleasure. You repeated the motion, slowly increasing your speed as you went.

“Shit, babe”, Leo groaned, watching as your chest began to bounce with your movements, one of his hands grabbing one with a squish. You in turn let out a louder moan, before angling your legs, allowing you to increase your speed even further, your skin slapping against his with every bounce, the head of his member hitting the spot of your insides with ease.

With the increase of your speed, Leo threw his head back with a moan, closing his eyes momentarily at the amazing feeling of your tight wet walls around him.

“Don’t stop, babe”, Leo moaned, his eyes still closed and his face showing the relaxation and pleasure he was feeling. “Please don’t stop, (Y/N)”.

His words spurred you on, your hands coming to rest on his chest, providing you more support with each move. One of Leo’s hands found yours on his chest, stroking it with his thumb, watching your form above him, the looks he was giving you sending shivers and tingles straight to your core.

It might have been Leo’s slightly weakened state, or the fact that you made him calm down after a period of intense emotions with adrenaline rushing, but to his surprise, Leo already found the pressure build up behind his cloaca, alerting him to the fact that he was getting close. And you knew Leo well enough to know that he was close as well. From the restlessness of his hands feeling up your body, the way that his legs were moving behind you, and how his hips fought to move with you, was letting you know how close he was getting to his high.

“Want to cum?”, you asked sweetly. Leo nodded, his hooded yet lustful eyes never leaving yours. It was strange yet incredibly erotic to see him like this. Normally he was full of energy, having to use his impressive self control to hold himself back from fucking your brains out. But right now it wasn’t an option. With Leo’s wound and his body relaxing after such a high state, he did not have energy to hold back or hold his hips still, nor did he have the energy to force you down on the mattress and plow into you. He was truly at your mercy.

“Yes”, Leo almost whimpered, his fingers lightly clawing at your hips. “Fuck, yes please. I want to cum”.

The sound of Leo begging was new to you. Usually he would be the one calling the shots in the bedroom, edging you over and over again, and making you beg before he would let your orgasm take over you. But now, as your normally dominant boyfriend was begging beneath you, you suddenly understood why he wanted you to do the same usually. It felt like a powerrush. It was almost too good not to enjoy. And had Leo not been injured, you might have done it. Toyed with it, and do the same to him like he usually did to you. But you decided against it, not wishing to accidentally make his injury worse. Tonight the goal was to make Leo relax, and provide him comfort.

You leaned your face down to Leo’s, where you gave him a quick kiss, before moving your lips to neck, passing by where his ears would have been, whispering to him in a sultry voice; “Then cum for me, babe”.

And Leo did, moving his head to the side, giving you space to work your lips over his neck, while he came inside of you, his hips buckling as much as his wound would allow him to, his churrs and moans filling the room, making the excitement in your core grow even stronger.

Once Leo was calming down from his high, you moved to get off of him and lay down on the bed, letting his member slip out of you. But before you could get up from your straddling position, Leo stopped you with his hands on your waist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”, he asked with a slight mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’m going to lay down so we can cuddle”, you said. “Just like we always do when we’re done”.

“Nah, we’re not done”, Leo said, pulling your hips back to his.

“But Leo, your wound-”.

“My wound is on my side, not on my face”, your boyfriend said, catching you off guard, leaving you stunned for a moment. He smiled at you, enjoying the look on your face, tugging at your hips. “Now, move up, sweetheart. I can’t heal without eating”.

Who would have thought that even a wounded Leo, would find ways to make you beg all night long…

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bowieandqueen11 · 1 year ago

Text

Not Just A Trinket / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: hi! ur writing is EVERYTHING btw. ur an amazing writer. you mentioned you wanted to write for izzy hands again and i have a request– feel free to ignore if it's not what ur looking for :) maybe izzy hands x reader where the reader has a small gift for him (a little trinket, a beaded crystal bracelet– something they made for him) but they're WAY too anxious to give it to him because they're scared he won't like it so they end up just carrying it around, trying to build up the courage to give it to him pfft

AHHH thank you so much my lovely, that's so sweet of you, and so is this idea!!! :3 Also I know I'm a little early in the timeline mentioning Davy Jones but I like to think of Izzy as a trendsetter ;)

Warning: mentions of fighting/ injury and strong language, some sexual innuendo!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @nadsdraws.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Izzy Hands was beginning to detest feeling like this.

He would rather charge sword first at a horde of raging Englishmen: would prefer to scrabble and scrape and scratch through the eye sockets of thousands of the Spanish with naught but his bloodied fingernails. Hell, even grovelling under the sole of the snivelling wreck that now possessed his former boss like a twisted nightmare, a horrid regret, would be preferable. If his hand wasn't too firmly attached to tangled rope of one of the shrouds in a death grip, if his glove wasn't close to bursting at the seams with how tightly he was gripping, he had half a mind to draw his dagger out of its scabbard and gouge his heart out right there and then.

He looked furious. So much so, that Roach was quick to side step him as he hopped down the steps with fresh sewing materials in his hand, giving a final look back at the intent man who only bared his teeth at the cook in response. Valuing his life, or at least the ability to keep all his fingers, if the sight of the keen blade being twisted between Izzy's free fingers told him anything, Roach is quick to recoil back and raise a concerned eyebrow in Wee John's direction. He in turn just rolls his eyes and lowers his head back to his sewing, but the rest of Stede's crew are astute enough, from where they're lingering around the deck, to notice the thick tension brewing like cold shivers of electricity in the air. Even Jim and Oluwande were giving each other side eyes, pausing their hammering at the helm to dart their eyes to their side and trace the path of Izzy's line of sight.

It never wavered. Every time they looked, it never changed. He had spent the last two hours gaping sourly towards the edge of the quarter deck. Gawking solely at you, without a single movement, without a single flicker outside the bubble where you hunched.

You thought he was angry at you for arranging a special outing for Ed and Stede at Datura Grotto, finally indulging in finding a way for them to spend some time alone after your Captain had begged and hounded you for days; he had become so accustomed to bursting through doors trying to find you and ask for your help, that the poor daunted man nearly burst into tears when he smashed your bedroom door into your nose and nearly broke it. The rest of the crew believed he was plotting something: trying to pick out the quieter members of their friends first, as payback for being stuck on this so called 'straight out of Davy Jones' arsehole' of a ship for so long.

Izzy, though. Izzy knew he was smitten. And he fucking hated it. He hated feeling so vulnerable.

Out of all the crew members still pretending to mill about, only Lucius was daring enough to purse his lips and look brazenly back at Blackbeard's first mate. Only Lucius, in fact, was feeling equally brave, and equally vexatious that fine afternoon to muster up the courage to slide up beside him. 'Someone in a bad mood today, are we?'. He taps the ships railing with the point of his nail, the broom he had been pretending to sweep splintered pieces off the floor a moment ago soon forgotten about as he leans it against the side of the ship. He replaces the loss by dropping his hand to his hip, cocking his head and smiling at an increasingly agitated looking Izzy. 'Would it have anything to do with that fine young sea farer over there by any chance? How romantic, Dizzy Izzy. Oh, I do love a good fix-me-up-'

Oh, he was enjoying this.

Izzy's quick to snap, not even bothering to look in Lucius' direction. 'Fuck off, before I do you a favour and cut that little seducing tongue out of your mouth for you.' Lucius watches Izzy's fingers tighten into leather clad black balls on the rope ladder, and doesn't need a second warning to trot off back towards his friends again. With a final wide eyed look of shock, he turns back to Black Pete and shrugs, holding his hands up as if to say that he tried his best.

All the while, you just keep your gaze steady out and onto the brewing horizon of the sea, watching as foam shook out like reaching hands around your ankles as they across cut through the wave crests, only the salty sting of thrumming silence keeping you company underneath his watchful gaze. The beaded necklace you had spent the last week or so threading together, carefully crafted by trembling fingers and a bit tongue during long evenings spent in your hammock, was beginning to feel like an anchor weight in your pocket. You tried to distract yourself with mundane, idle chit chat with a very thankful Lucius, who had swung over to your side after Pete convinced him to go scouting out for some more gossip. Swinging his legs between the latches of the port quarter, he merrily took the hammer you were idly holding from your hand and began to 'fix up the ship', his wrist barely moving as he turned to you with a scheming smile.

'So, do you know what's going on then? Why Izzy's acting like this? I swear, that man. If he doesn't bend over right now and try to get that stick out of his arse, he's going to be a miserable sad sack of repressed irritation forever. He's like a jack in the box. I swear to god, I'm just waiting for him to burst.' The tone of his voice sounds almost worried, but Lucius is smiling and waggling his eyebrows the whole while. 'That would be kind of funny, actually. I've always imagined him as a stamper. Or maybe a screamer-'

You have no idea what to say, not understanding Lucius' oh so unsubtle hints, so you just run your fingers over the bulge in your pocket once more and chime in to his rant from time to time with a disinterested 'hmm' or distracted 'oh, yeah. Definitely.' It really didn't help that you were beginning to blush the same champagne hue as the bubbles between your toes with how gravely Izzy was staring at the side of your face. It was growing increasingly harder not to give into the temptation: to not just swing your head around and meet his hard-set eyes head on.

Once he realises you're dead set on staying right there, away from him, hiding in the corner all day, he sighs and let's go of the sails, marching off to do another impromptu inspection of the boarded vessel. It's an easy distraction: yelling orders at Wee John, spitting insults at Roach as he scurries out of Izzy's way, stealing the Swede's cup out of his hand and spraying beads of coffee around Buttons' feet. All of it was a Grade A fantastic distraction, and Izzy was hell bent on forgetting just how quickly time had gone by that day: Ed and the moronic, sappy, massive twat of an arse Stede would be back from their foliage constitutional any minute now, and Izzy was acutely aware that he was running out of both minutes, and chances to ask you to take a walk with him on the island himself. He had spent far too much of the morning wasting away, leaning his back on Stede's antique armoire and watching you with crossed arms: like a weathered statue, the growing umbra he cast somehow seeming to reach its tendrils out and blanch the fringes of the doorway. Even Fang and Ivan had been too terrified to come near him, and so he had been left alone. A silent sentinel, trying to figure out why the fuck his heart was cracking against the cage of his ribs and tearing their ligaments to shreds.

You hadn't exactly made things any easier for the man: feeling so intimated, you had spent the whole morning begging your friends to whisk you away from him at the first sign of danger. Whether that meant ducking behind Frenchie's lute like a crab, or hiding like a bulky turtle under the large bit of crimson cloth Oluwande was fiddling with the tassels of, you had used any form of escape to save you from the embarrassment of having to be near him. To let him see how flustered you became just at the overwhelmingly intense pressure you felt in the air any time he swaggered over to your side: to hide the fact that your eyes would widen in abject horror, your breath hitching any time the back of his gloved hand would 'accidentally' brush against your wrist as he went on his merry way, pretending it was all by accident. That it was all just a little game to him.

Little did you know, that he was feeling exactly the same way. The one time he had dared to come over to you that day had been an unmitigated disaster. He thought he was being... well, as kind as he possibly could be by slapping you on the shoulder and saying 'how good of a job you're doing.' He was nodding his head between every word, that jilted, simpering smile on his face as he supplemented his sentiment with an incredibly heartfelt 'at least Y/n knows how to do a fucking thing on this ship, not like you lot of useless fucking fuckers they have to work with. The rest of you are embarrassing, really.' He went to walk away, the side of his wrist glancing against the back of your hand as he finished with a breathless 'you lot could learn a thing or two from Y/n.'

He had staggered away from you as if mortally wounded, tongue bitten between his teeth as he tried as nonchalantly as possible to make his way back to the stern of the ship. While you were busy trying to bury your head down into your chest and avoid the smirking faces of Lucius and Pete, you happened to notice from the side of your eye that with each step Izzy was ringing out his hand. To your surprise, he used his teeth to rip his glove off, tucking it under his armpit as he wrangled with his fingers; he couldn't stop every cell burning as if it had just been reeled under the bottom of the ship. Couldn't understand why his fingertips wouldn't stop shaking as he flexed them.

Lucius was right. He was about to erupt, and he wondered if he'd ever be alright again.

It took until the sun nearly bowing over the jaded unicorn surmounting the anterior of the Revenge for you to find the courage to finally slink away from your convenient hiding spot to go over to Izzy. Well, that and the feel of Lucius literally dragging you up by the wrist and giving you a well meaning shove in the back towards the helm.

'Oh, fuck me', Izzy hisses as he watches you approach, turning his back to you to hide how flustered he was becoming with each tugging step at his heart you take towards him. He nearly jumps high enough to fall face first off the side of the boat when he feels your hand tentatively tap his shoulder, but he manages to inhale sharply and compose himself as best as he can before he flicks his eyes to look at you.

'I-uh-', you swallow thickly, shakily drawing your hand away from him and tucking it behind your back. 'I-, uh. I, I mean, I-'. The two of you, a far change of pace from usual, can barely keep your eyes on each other.

You feel like throwing your shoe at Lucius when you register the all too familiar sing song-y chime of his voice murmuring 'say something!' from behind your back. 'Or I swear to god, I'll kiss the man for you!'

'Well, I-', you start again, shooting the most vicious glare you could strangle out of you back at your friend. With a final sigh, you continue: 'I saw your necklace, and I don't mean to pry- but since you're always wearing black, which of course is incredibly cool, I just- well, I thought it needed a burst of colour.' Without a second thought, you scramble to pull your makeshift necklace out of your trousers, and shove the glistening glass emeralds and burnished pearls into his fist.

'It's just a silly thing, really. I saw Stede fixing Ed's red fabric and I just thought... well, you don't have to wear it. It's just a trinket, it's stupid. Really, you don't have to wear it. I'm sorry-'. After a pause, the burning sensation is enough to make you turn on your heel and bashfully start to make a break for the Rec Centre, just to get as far away from him as possible.

'It's not just a trinket.' The softness of his tone, despite how harshly he sounds out the letters makes you swivel back in surprise. He takes the opportunity to take a step forward and grab onto your wrist. He tugs you closer, until you're standing dangerously close to him: if he were to inhale deeply now, to puff his chest out just a tenth of an inch, your belly buttons would be tightly pressed upon each other. You can already feel his buttons strain against your shirt as he whistles out through bunched teeth, the breath sharp and warm against the side of your jaw. 'Don't say that. Never say that. It came from you, so it's not-... just, don't say that.'

He blinks, slowly releasing his viper grip.

'I like it. I really do. Thank you.' He motions awkwardly with a flick of his fingers to the side of his neck. 'Would you mind? With the gloves, I'm... not very good with clasps. Haven't, haven't used one in a long time.'

You can't stop your head from nodding, feeling like a wound up spring toy as you unfurled his fingers again and took the gift back. With a final swallow, you try not to turn cerise as you gently roll down the collar of his shirt. It folds easily down over his vest, until your bare fingers are dragging over the naked line of skin on his neck, just teasingly hiding the tense muscles of his upper back.

'You really didn't have to do this for me, you know.'

'Yeah... but I wanted to. You're not as much of an arsehole as Stede tries to make out.' You manage out a giggle, before you're back to biting your bottom lip in concentration, brushing a few strands away from the back of his head.

He wants to say more, but his voice chokes in the back of his throat like rifting water, his mouth trembling as your fingers brush over the coiled grey hairs bristling at the nape of his neck. It feels like a red hot poker is being dragged across his skin; he shivers at the feeling, a tight coil rolling across his limbs before settling uncomfortably heavy in the pit of his stomach.

He looks like he's about to weep when you take a step back, reaching up with a final pat to make sure the little metal swallow that adorns the centre of your necklace is lying perfectly against his breast. You may have lingered there a little longer than necessary... long enough for your palm to begin burning against the firm muscle of his pec, and for Lucius to draw out an enunciated wolf whistle, but it was definitely worth it. Even the sound of Frenchie snickering from the barrel he was perched on down on the deck was drowned out by the thrumming toll in your ears: by the sound of Izzy's sharp breath piercing your ear as he wavered uneasily on the spot. He didn't want to move away from you, not yet. He could barely even hear them. For the first time in his life, he didn't even fucking care. All he could focus on, over the bridge of his nose - through the gentle curls of his tired eyelashes, was you.

He was intoxicated - but even worse, he was finally beginning to understand. By god, he wondered. What the fuck had you done to him? Could this really be what Edward feels? Could anyone, really, feel this much?

'I hear swallows are meant to bring good luck', you state with bated breath, fingering the charm you had picked up from a market stall at the Republic of Pirates for a final time. It had reminded you almost immediately of Izzy: a hidden treasure, glistening white-gold, like fresh sunlight flitting across the glitter combs littered across the sea beds. It had been well buried within piles of muck: old straw, rotten bits of moulding fruit, bloodied bones twisted into odd shapes that you could barely recognise, but it had been lying there. Waiting just for you. A needle in the haystack. The final piece of the puzzle.

Izzy's breath draws in sharply as you absentmindedly begin to brush your pointer finger up and up: tracing the edge of his jaw line before rolling over the same bird tattoo lacing his neck, your eyes still drawn to the gap between his shirt where his Adam's apple lay tautly.

'Yes. Very good luck', he states, amazed he even found his voice. Surprisingly, he doesn't even try to pull away. He lets you trace your finger over the beak, gliding across the round belly until they're dancing teasingly over its tail. In fact, without his wonderous, dipped eyes looking away from you, he seems to be tilting his head in time, allowing you easier access to brush against his skin and steal his soul with every movement.

Before he has time to think of the repercussions of what he was about to do, the leather of his gloves flex around your cheeks and Izzy Hands has bowed his back down over you, lips knocking against yours. It's terse, and rather urgent in its forcefulness; it was both a slip of outrageous passion, and a terse reminder of his years out of practice feeling any sort of physical affection, and yet you couldn't help but brush up even closer to the man. He welcomes you eagerly, even though this eternity lasted only a moment: with his thumb, he tilts the jut of your chin up so he can lick his tongue against your bottom lip all the more easily. His knee slides forward until it knocks against your own, lurching you forward and saving him the embarrassment of having to voluntarily admit to his weakness and slide his other hand around the pulse point of your neck, until he was cradling the bone of your shoulder.

He finally draws back, his tongue darting out to lick along the edge of his top lip. 'Yeah, very lucky indeed.' He seems sorrowful to be letting go of you, but the loud whistling and snorting that begins to bounce back and forth between Stede's crew snaps Izzy back to himself. With a final glance back down to your lips, he struts off to pick up Lucius' long abandoned broom and starts chasing him across the ship with it.

#our flag means death #ofmd #izzy hands #izzy hands imagine #izzy hands x reader #israel hands #israel hands imagine #israel hands x reader #lucius spriggs #edward teach #stede bonnet #ofmd imagine #izzy ofmd #izzy ofmd imagine #con o'neill

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lowkeyrobin · 10 months ago

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Hi!! 🍄 again I was wondering if I could get a platonic newt x reader (from tmr) where maybe it’s while newt is still new to his limp and reader is helping him do Is jobs

(Also just to let you know if you didn’t newt from tmr is canonically gay (as stated by the author ) I just wanted to let you know so you didn’t write him with a fem reader btw I didn’t relizie how rude this sounds not trying to be rude just and fyi also sorry if you did know just a lot of fans didn’t )

Thank you once again sorry if it seemed rude

ooooo okay I like this! ; also I know, don't worry, and you didn't sound rude! i do see newt as a queer character 100 and I always have, even before learning about James dashners tweet about it, which I find sketchy bc I'm pretty sure he tweeted that after being accused of being weird to women or smthn?? idrk, doesn't matter here bc gn readers only + I wholeheartedly see newt as queer and I can rant ab it for hours ; I don't plan on writing for tmr much but pls send requests, I love writing for this fandom lol

NEWT ; personal aid

summary ; youre helping him after he gained his limp

warnings ; language, talk of/about suicide and mental health

genre ; platonic fluff, kinda angst

word count ; 1k

masterlist

Newt was recently injured in the maze. He'd been as fixed up as possible, given a brace made of tree branches and some painkillers sent from the box. At least no one was using the pills for bad, considering they're a fragile item to give to a bunch of teenagers. The only thing you'd ever thank WCKD for was those painkillers, because seeing the blonde hurt like that killed you inside.

To put it as blankly as possible, he tried to kill himself. He climbed his way up of one of the walls surrounding the glade using the ivy that grew on it, and jumped. He fell about thirty feet, considering he only climbed up the wall about a third of the way, apparently thinking thirty feet would kill him.

He'd never been the type to express happiness within the glade, but he never expressed the opposite either.

But, everyone struggles inside, especially in the Glade. Reoccurring dreams and nightmares, unanswered questions, the will to live dwindling down each and every day, they only fed into the growing depression. Everyone was struggling in the Glade, but Newt, he took the first place trophy for that.

Once he'd been able to walk around again, you took helping him into your own hands. He was clearly never running in the maze again, due to the limp that slowed him down. So, he had a few options, hopefully one he'd like.

Alby took pity in him, making him his right hand man not long after. He needed someone around for when he wasn't, Newt was a good choice for that. He was responsible, good at directions, and keeping order.

You were working as Newt's personal aid, being a medic. You were very much an empath, and your true goal was to just help anyone and everyone. You brought him food and water, washed his clothes, sewed up his ripped up clothes from that day in case he'd be strong enough to wear them again, you did everything for him.

But now he leans into you, looking up at you with a certain displeasure, clearly uninterested in working outside of the maze.

You obviously were never going to let him be a builder, that was already off the table. But he got to look around and make his decision between slicer, cook, track-hoe, med-jack like you, slopper, bagger, and map keeper.

He easily put his money down on track-hoe. Something you didn't know about him was that he found gardening therapeutic. You didn't blame him whatsoever, you never wanted to be in the shoes of the sloppers, slicers, or baggers. To be fair, it was a little too gruesome and gross for you, you'd rather be helping people around the Glade than washing everyone's clothes or killing the animals, just a personal opinion.

He needed help while working, though. He couldn't put too much weight on his one foot, and he couldn't bend down on that knee at all yet. So, while he worked, you stood off to the side, making sure he was alright while you watched the others work around the Glade, enjoying their peaceful, warm day.

While he was picking fruit and vegetables off the vines of ivory, you were by his side, either holding the basket or getting the ones he couldn't bend down to reach. You couldn't help but feel bad for his poor spine as well, considering your back started to hurt after a few hours. The gardens were pretty large, considering there was about thirty or forty boys in the Glade to feed, meaning there was always hours and hours of work or expansion to do.

"Y/n, sorry, can you help me?" The dirty blonde asks, groaning as he stands back up, holding a hand on his knee. "I can't get those tomatoes at the bottom"

You quickly nod, kneeling down to grab them for him while he moves to the next bush, plucking off all the ripe tomatoes off the vine. You retie a string around the support branches, which heald the bush together and let it grow vertically rather than horizontally and try and choke out and kill any other plants nearby.

"Fry is gonna love it when he sees these tomatoes, they're the biggest and ripest they've been in a long time" You comment, looking over at Newt.

He nods, tossing a cherry tomato in his mouth to amount to a little snack. "He sure is, we'll be eating good this week" He chuckles with a little smile. "You wanna work on the cucumbers for me? I'll get the corn" He suggests, wanting to work a bit quicker and suggest some things he could actually do without feeling a pain shoot through his leg.

You nod, taking a new basket over to the cucumber lane. You feel something pang in your heart as you see him attempt to kneel down on one foot to reach one last tomato, groaning and furrowing his brows in the process, clearly still hurting him.

"How are you feeling? Physically and mentally, nothing is off the table."

Newt shrugs, watching you examine and touch around the bruising and his ankle. Your fingertips slide over his ankle a little harshly, and he quickly inhales and furrows his brows, which you respond to by quickly pulling your hands away and apologizing.

"On a light note, it looks much better than before already. How are you doing in a mental sense?"

"I hate this bloody place, I feel dumb for not climbing higher-" He strays silent, watching you wrap a fresh bandage around his ankle. "Sorry..."

"It's okay. I'm here as your personal aid, Newt"

"That's the damn thing! I don't want you to waste your days on me. You have other important stuff to do, I don't want you to have to babysit me." The blonde expresses, watching you properly stand up.

"It's fine, really. You're still in a lot of pain, and I swear I'm not babysitting you. I'm just watching over you so it doesn't end up hurting more, alright?"

"Alright..."

#lowkeyrobin #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner #newt x reader #tmr newt #tmr x reader #tmr x gn reader #gender neutral reader #tmr thomas #tmr gally #tmr minho #thomas brodie sangster #thomas brodie sangster x reader #tmr newt x reader #🍄 anon

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palskippah · 1 year ago

Text

Hi!!

Here's two pages of sketchy drawings of Queen River and baby Bowser bonding I did for @raysbrainrot! I loved drawing it, thank you very much!!

(Here's my commission info btw!)

Also, here's a few points that I think are nice to say but didn't fit in the drawings :''v (I have so many thoughts of them hepl 🧍)

-Queen River tried to sew a bib for baby Bowser bc he was drooling everywhere and of course she could buy them the nicest bibs in the whole kingdom and all- but she wanted for it to be special. She knew that many koopa mothers usually made clothes (only when needed because koopas don't really use clothes but babies sometimes need them) or accessories for their koopalings, so she tried that too.

>Thing is, she's much bigger compared to her own baby, and she struggled a lot to sew Bowser's name on the tiny cloth, she used no more than five stitches for each letter and even then she didn't account for the space needed, so all she could put there was 'BOWS' with a crooked S.

>She was embarrassed as hell when Kamek asked what was it that had her so upset and she showed him the sewn bib while he looked at it and she covered her face in shame, he started to laugh- and then the drawing happened and that.

>Kamek started almost always dressing baby Bowser in that bib, and soon the nickname 'Bows' stuck for a while, until the queen died and from then on Kamek started calling him Bowser or 'little prince' or 'your *insert current emotion*-ness' solely, bc it was the queen who (without meaning to) gave Bowser the nickname, and it was like a reminder that she wasn't there anymore. With time, the nickname faded into forgetfulness, and no one ever called the koopa prince that anymore.

-Btw remember that baby Bowser had like they/them pronouns mostly bc they didn't have idea if the baby was boy or girl 🧍something about royal koopas idk

-When Kamek told Luigi of all he could remember of the queen and Bowser bonding, there was a very clear fondness in the way he remembered her, even after so many years (Bowser's like thirty-and-a-few years old, so it has been so long ago), and that's another part Luigi thought was very adorable, aside from the mom and baby.

-I imagine babies marvel at the fact that there's a very big being taking care of them, so imagine baby Bowser also thought so of the very big koopa that always was very sweet and congratulated him even when he didn't do anything and cuddled him very lovingly- and then one day she wasn't there anymore and it felt like he lost a part of himself (I can't remember when is it that babies realize their mom isn't a part of themselves?? But :''''v), even if the other being that took such good care of him (dada) was still there, he cried a lot because the main one (mama) wasn't there anymore and no matter how much they called her she didn't come to comfort them.

That's all pipipi :'v I love them

Addition!

-After Queen River's death her portraits and pictures had to be taken down in the whole castle (maybe except the one in Kamek's room, which he looked at very sadly-) because baby Bowser kept seeing them and getting excited and making grabby hands to the portraits to reach them, and then they'd get sad and would cry when the paintings obviously didn't reach back for them. Kammy and Kamek (with a big pain in their heart) had the paintings and any art representing the queen to be taken down, so the prince wouldn't see them. That's also why Bowser started forgetting about her very quickly, and then they didn't get sad nor missed their mom 👍 cries

#super mario bros #my art #commissions #queen river #bowser koopa #kamek #for real i loved this bc akjdsakd :'''v #i love her so much i'm glad i got commissioned to draw her jiji

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lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 10 months ago

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Can I request a Hunter x female Y/N comfort/whump paternal fic plz? <3

Btw I loved your Crosshair x Y/N fic <3

Knight in Rusty Armor

Hunter x Reader

Summary- After a bad run-in at a market, Hunter has to save you and Omega. You can't help but feel like a failure for not being able to protect Omega by yourself...

A/N- Thank you so much for requesting! I'm not completely confident in my ability to write Hunter, but I tried my best!! Hope this is what you had in mind, XoXo.

Word Count- 2,118

You could feel his gaze on you from a mile away. It seemed that no matter the circumstance, Hunter was there.

While you were grateful for him, always- you couldn't help but feel like he didn't trust you. Well, maybe trust wasn't the right word. Nevertheless, he had to accompany you and Omega for a trip to the market.

Everyone had been flying for days and needed a place to resupply. Stretch their legs. You offered to take Omega to shop for some new clothes. She had rips in her shirt- ones that were barely held together by your sewing. So it seemed natural that you would take her, being the only other female on the ship.

Even before landing, you brought up the idea of you and Omega going to Hunter. You wanted to spend some time with her alone. One might have even said mother and daughter bonding...

He turned you down immediately. Rightfully so, as it was a foreign place. But you still wanted to compromise.

That's where you were now, looking through bounds of outfits. Varied from dresses, pants, jackets, and finally shirts. Hunter kept his distance. He did understand that Omega needed some 'girl time' with you, as Tech called it. He also understood that you two were the most important people to him, and he wanted to protect you at all cost.

When you and Omega stepped into an actual establishment for children's clothes, Hunter stood outside the door. Close enough that he could hear Omega laughing.

She picked through a rack, showing you the shirts she thought looked silly. The two of you got a couple odd looks, but neither of you cared.

A particular neon-green tube top grabbed her attention. She picked it up and joked that she wanted it.

"Yeah, very stealthy Omega." You said, playfully.

She giggled and put the shirt back. The two of you proceeded to go to the cashier with the 3 other shirts you found. Ones that fit her and were darker tones.

You immediately noticed that the owner of the store had a sour look on his face. This resulted in you putting on an cheery attitude, being extra kind.

"Ten credits." The yellow man stated, ignoring your pleasantries.

"T-ten?" You sputtered out, shocked. The tags on the clothes clearly stated 'one credit each.'

"Three for the clothes, and seven for the ones you insulted. Now an additional two for arguing with me." Since when was asking a question arguing.

Omega looked up at you, wondering what you would do next. You didn't have Ten credits on you, though you knew Hunter would let you tap into his personal stash if you asked. In this matter however, three shirts were not worth ten credits.

"Sir, i'm sorry about the comments. But we meant no harm. I can give you three credits for the shirts, as they are priced. No more." You reasoned with the man, knowing how bad Omega needed new clothes.

"You are not leaving this store until I get fifteen credits from you." He grumbled and reached for his blaster.

"Excuse me?" You were taken aback. Who did he think he was? Your own blaster was already raised.

"We don't have fifteen credits, and will be leaving now." You said, dropping the clothes. You were frustrated that the day had turned bad.

"Then she can work them off." He shoved his blaster to Omegas temple. Omega had left her energy bow back at the ship, and her borrowed blaster was on the side of her leg.

"We really don't have time for this, sir." You said before effectively disarming him. Your own blaster shot right past his shoulder, missing on purpose. It distracted him long enough for you to knock his blaster out of his own hand. Omega reached down to grab it- both guns now pointing at him.

It was as simple as it seemed, the guy was inexperienced. What the two of you didn't anticipate was Hunters call.

After rushing outside, the building was surrounded by men that looked like the store owner. Yellow with three horns on their ugly face.

What you would find out later was that the store owner had a bad temper, and went ahead to call for back-up. He was determined to make you all pay. Insanely petty if you could say so yourself.

Nevertheless, firing commenced. Again, it was easy. Even though they had numbers, they didn't possess the same skill as the three of you. Maybe that's why you got cocky?

Maybe that's why you found yourself with a blaster pointed at the back of your neck. The store owner! How did you forget him, you and Omega had rushed out without a second thought.

"This time, disarming me won't be so easy." You felt his breath on your ear, disgusting.

"Put the blaster down. Now." Hunter commanded. If you had your thoughts straight, it would have been really sexy.

"I don't think I will. I want 100 credits. For my time, and having to deal with these ratchet things you call humans!" The man insulted.

You smirked, "Not a wise decision." You remarked. Now it was personal- Hunter did not take insults to his girls lightly.

"Yeah, and what do you know? You're the one with a blaster poi-" He was interrupted by Hunter shooting him. Hunter wasn't as forgiving as you. The man fell, you didn't even look to see if he was alive.

With a puff Hunter started, "Let's get back."

"Are you okay!" Omega jumped to your side, calling your name.

Her voice sent a pang down from your spine to your stomach. She shouldn't be worried about you... She should feel safe and protected. All she saw was you getting risky and dumb. Now she thought she had to worry about you... You felt shame rush to your cheeks in a pink hue.

This Hunter took notice of, he was confused. There was nothing to be embarrassed about? At least he didn't think so.

The walk back to the ship was mostly silent, except for Hunter confirming we would try another market soon.

You kept your head up, now being over-cautious, hand hovering your blaster. That was until Hunter took your hand in his. He smiled at you. He could feel the tension off your body. He'd ask about it the second you got some alone time.

You looked at him and swallowed. You only felt more guilt. How was he so collected but ready to engage in combat at any moment. All of it just made you more insecure, what did you bring to the table?

Your thoughts were interrupted by Omega, pulling on Hunters free hand.

"Hunter! Can I pleeeeease get some!" She gestured to a bag of sweets for sale. A mix of fruity candy, lolli-pops, and chewing gum.

"I don't know Omega." He started, but after seeing her face fall he followed it with- "Okay, but you'll have to share it with Wrecker."

She jumped up, hugging onto his arm. "Thank you! You're the best dad ever!" She giddily said, snatching the credit he held out for her.

His face brightened up, it was his turn to wear a light pink hue. Omega didn't even seem to realize what she said, but you gripped Hunters hand tighter.

"Dad... I like it." You leaned onto him, resting a head on his shoulder. Your arm now fully wrapped around his.

"She probably didn't even mean to say it..." He doubted, not wanting to think anything that wasn't mutual.

"Don't sell yourself short, Hunter." You said, not looking up at him, but rubbing your cheek on the material of his shirt.

Omega bopped back over and the three of you headed back to the ship.

Sleep escaped you, tossing and turning. The thoughts of the market kept you awake. This was not normal. You had all been in crappy situations like that one, why did it affect you so much?

Having Hunter save you wasn't something you resented, it was quite attractive. Just this instance. You had been so careless... You could have put an end to it all, but forgot to immobilize the main threat. You huffed and puffed, trying to get out your frustrations.

You were so lost in thought, that when Hunter placed a concerned hand on your shoulder- you jumped. He pulled away instantly, thinking he might have hurt you in some way.

"W-what?" You asked, squinting up at him. It seemed that no one else was awake, Hunter being the only one on watch.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong, sweets?" He asked, hearing his nickname for you was enough to calm you down. At least, enough to get up and settle in one of the cock-pit seats.

You took a deep breath and sat up. He steadied you, an arm wrapping under your armpit to hold you.

"Just can't sleep." He knew there was more to the story. That was a big part about why you loved him. He was more than attentive, and the most selfless lover you could ask for.

"Come sit with me." He suggested, pulling you up with him as he stood to his feet.

He still had a hand rested on the small of your back as he led the two of you to the cockpit,

"So, what happened at the market?" You looked down, shame flooded out of you. Seemingly for no reason. You opted to sit down before answering.

"I let Omega down... There's nothing else to it. It was obvious." You almost felt angry that he didn't see the situation as you did.

His face scrunched up, eyes burning at you. He blinked several times before replying- "What are you talking about?"

With a groan you spoke again, "I can't even protect her from an angry, stupid, vender! You had to save us!" Your voice cracked at the end.

"I thought you didn't mind wh-" You cut him off

"I don't, I just-" You grumbled, frustrated that you couldn't find the right words.

"It's okay, you didn't let anyone down. Everyone is safe, it was just a small mishap." He reasoned, hating that you felt anything less than perfect. If only you saw yourself as he saw you.

You took a quick breath, "One day it won't be a 'small mishap' and something might happen to Omega. I was careless! Now she knows I can't protect her. I'm supposed to be the person she can run to... She must be so disappointed."

You let your head fall into your hands. You rested there for a moment, that was until Hunter made his way in front of you. He gently grasped your hands in his.

He lifted one of your hands to rest on his cheek- the tattooed one. You moved your thumb across the black lines.

"Omega thinks the world of you... nothing will change that. Who knows what would have happened if I wasn't there. If I hadn't called you out, you would have been able to think on what to do with the owner, right?" He explained, trying to shift some of the blame to himself.

You nodded at his words. At this he brings his free hand to rest on your cheek, matching yours on his. His words made you feel some relief, but you couldn't deny how you still felt guilty. Guilty that Omega may have thought differently now.

"Thank you..." You sniffled out, his words making your eyes water.

You leaned in for a kiss, only to be interrupted by a rustling.

Omega. Her light voice called your name, just before jumping onto you and Hunter. He held her steady as she fell into your arms.

"Today was so fun... I'm not disappointed!" You gasped slightly at her words, "You heard all that?" You had a worried look on your face.

"You guys are my family. I'll always feel protected with you." She leans into your arms, head resting just under your shoulder.

"I don't care about the mean guy, I had the best day ever... Can we visit the next market we find as well?" She said, excited, looking up into your eyes.

How could you say no to her sweet face?

"I think Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, and Echo should come too. Maybe they will have as much fun as we did shopping!" You and Hunter both laughed at this.

"i'm not so sure shopping is Tech's thing." Hunter joked.

You laughed again, wiping off the last tear on your face. Your anxieties had finally died down.

Hours later, Hunter would find you both asleep in the pilots chair- Omega rested snugged in your arms. That is, with evidence of the last candy all over Omega.

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I didn't have a strong vision for this one, but I told myself I had to finish it before starting another. I also went off of some Star Wars article saying that 1 Credit is equal to 5 USD. Sorry if I got that wrong! As always, I am open to constructive criticism!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

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saltymongoose · 1 year ago

Note

ohh my goodness. i've been waiting to send these until requests were open bc i wanted to hear ur thoughts.

might be a little silly, but consider: matching outfits. player gathers clothing materials!! and coordinates outfits one day on missions!!!! even makes props!!! hijinks ensue. idk if this had already been disscussed before, but thank you for your time and consideration, ily. you are so cool <<3333!!!!!!! everything you make is so scrumptious!!!!! <33

Omg, thank you, this is so nice of you!!! :D ❤❤❤❤ I love this art so much, you have no idea - the way you portray the boys here fits so well (as always lol). And the memes too omg!! I can't even put it into words to be honest with you, these are just excellent. I do feel slightly bad for that random grunt though, something tells me they'll be sleeping with one eye open after seeing that lmao.

(Also, thank you so much for the compliments too of course, you're far too kind. (˶⸃ ⴰ⸃˶)♡ I could say the same to you btw; your art is always just *chef's kiss* perfection.)

Anyhow, I've actually thought a bit about this scenario before, but this just inspired me, so I wrote some short hcs for you. Hope you like them! <3:

The Player Matches Outfits with Them ft. The Main 3 + 2BDamned

(TW: Yandere, Obsessive Behavior)

- [2BDAMNED] -

2BDamned knew that you had been working on a little project - one that you tried to keep as secret as possible. He was curious, but not enough to encroach on whatever boundary you set regarding it. All he knew from your rather lackadaisical explanation was that he'd be very surprised when he saw. And, well, he was.

The first conscious thought in 2BDamned's head is the question of how you've managed to make a mask that looks so similar to his without borrowing the original. It's really spot on; the seams are in the exact same place, and even if yours has to have been configured differently to fit your more human facial features, the silhouette is exactly the same.

(In the end, he concludes that you simply must've studied his appearance for a while to truly replicate his mask, which makes him feel almost giddy in a way he might've deemed embarrassing before meeting you. But now he's just overcome with happiness that you were obviously interested enough in him to do this.)

He openly praises your skill in sewing, knowing that grunt clothing is ordinarily much too large for you. And you'd notice how the fondness he holds for you seeps into the words, his gaze lingering on you in a way that left you feeling warm.

If you could see underneath his own mask, you'd be able to see the smile he was unable to bite back as well, and the flush that he'd try to will away otherwise. And while he is incredibly impressed (and happy) at what you've managed to put together, he will mention that you could also borrow his actual things once in a while, if you feel so inclined. He just happens to think one of his own jackets might suit you too.

(Of course, he doesn't miss the chance to lean real close to adjust your mask as he says this either, just to fluster you even more. You really have no idea how cute you are, especially looking like this.)

- [DEIMOS] -

A full minute of unintelligible sputtering leaves Deimos' lips the moment he sees your new outfit, and you laugh at the way his face goes bright red. When you said you had a surprise, this was one of the last things he expected.

Luckily for him, he's able to quickly gather his composure, and his excited ramblings turn into smooth flirts that'll leave you blushing instead of him. Expect all sorts of comments about how cute you looked dressed up like him, and praises about how you look even better in his fit than he does.

He insists on taking a ton of pictures together, and you can bet he keeps his favorite in his wallet. (It's one of your faces smushed together as you both grin at the camera, making a heart with your hands.)

He considers this a total power-couple thing; matching shirts are so low-effort compared to this, if anything it shows you perfect you are together. Although there is one thing he'd help you change from your original DIY version of his outfit - those sheet-metal dog tags you made can't compare to the real thing in his opinion, so why don't you just use one of his instead?

Also, don't think he won't take advantage of the fact that you both are the only ones with headsets. Even if yours isn't functioning (because let's be honest, finding one in working condition would be difficult), he'll fix it up quickly just so he can talk more directly to you during missions. And whenever else he wants to, to the irritation of the other three.

- [SANFORD] -

Sanford would consider his outfit to be fairly standard, but he recognized that you were emulating him the moment you slid the sunglasses on. And he couldn't stop the goofy smile from splitting his face when he realized it either, not even attempting to hide his amusement at what you've done.

(He only gets visibly happier when you 'threateningly' brandish your wire hook in his direction. You really put a lot of thought into this, didn't you?)

While Sanford has the amount of restraint in him to not openly brag about you doing this, he can't deny the rush of satisfaction he gets from seeing you in what is an unmistakable homage to him. If you look closely, you'll see him straighten up in pride whenever you come into view. (It's almost like preening, really. If he weren't so flushed, perhaps you'd think it to be more of an ego thing, but no.)

Although, he does show a little bit more concern about some aspects of your outfit. Like your boots, for example; he can't count the number of times he's gotten blisters while breaking in his own, so you should expect him to ask you if you need any plasters (or help bandaging yourself as well).

(If you decide to accept his offer, you'll find yourself questioning whether he ever officially trained as a medic before. He surely has the gentleness befitting of one, shown in how he carefully cleans your wounds and softly applies the ointment, his calloused fingers gently smoothing over the plasters on your Achilles heels afterward. Although you have the slightest suspicion that this tenderness from him is known only to you.)

Sanford will also make it part of his routine to pluck your glasses from your nose and clean them after he does his own. Afterward, he'll slowly lean in when he places them back on you to make sure he doesn't poke you in the eye. Neither of you mention that you could do it yourself, or that his decision to slide them back onto the bridge of your nose himself was highly unnecessary. Maybe he just does it to get a better look at the way you blink up at him and blush, or perhaps it's for some other reason, who's to say? Either way, you have no complaints.

- [HANK J. WIMBLETON] -

Your laughs are muffled under Hank's hands as he cups your face, tilting it up to look closely at you. His excitement at your new look is almost palpable; you can easily tell from how he's shaking and hurriedly looking over, his gaze never stopping on one spot for longer than a second. He just wants to take in everything about your new look, is all.

He'll almost insist on doing a mission with you wearing it, not only because the idea sounds fun to him (with his love of carnage and all), but also because it provides an excellent opportunity to rub in everyone else's faces that you chose to copy his outfit. Not theirs.

In a way, he also becomes just a tad more doting than usual. He busies himself with dusting you off, and adjusting your goggles and the lapels of your coat whenever another skirmish is finished. It's his way of checking you over and making sure your hard work wasn't damaged either.

(Plus, he'd hate it if this instance of you copying him was cut short because of some worthless grunts' attempts at harming you.)

You'll catch him sticking closer to you than usual too, and he does so for multiple reasons. First is that he just prefers to be near you whenever he can anyway (the warmth of your presence is one of his favorite things, and it gives ample opportunity to show off around you), but now there's also the fact that your outfit will freak out your enemies. As you can imagine, he enjoys that immensely, and what better way to improve this experience than to have his Player join him?

In a way, Hank also sees this as a sort of 'claim' you've put on yourself too. Wearing your significant other's clothing is kind of a thing with some grunts, and while he knows they aren't really his clothes, there's still some of that same sentiment there that makes him purr just a bit louder whenever he sees you in that new outfit of yours. It tells the world you're his in some way, even if not officially. So why wouldn't he be happy about that?

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