#i think he should wear glasses and hats always | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

silkentine · 5 months ago

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Me when they are the sisters ever: 😭😭😭 They came out soooo freaking well. I won’t lie, they took me a thousand years to finish but through the constant support from all of my buds (and my latent bisexuality), we made it 😤

Hopefully you guys know the deal by now: design choices, easter eggs, and (NEW!) closeup shots below the read more. ⬇️

I wanted Ace to have a very down-to-earth vibe and looked at Aussie beach-girls, coastal cowgirls, and vaqueras for reference. (IDK, I’ve just always envisioned Ace as part-Australian🌺 and Mexican 🏴‍☠️) Her clothing choices are mostly natural or utilitarian materials like the painted wooden beads on her top, her woven fabric and leather belts, and her denim jumpsuit. I gave her bikini top a zen-garden kind of feel because I read the first Ace’s Story Novel and I loved how idyllic and peaceful they made Sixis Island sound so I wanted to invoke that in some way.

Speaking of her painted wooden beads, they hang off the back of her top and represent her connection to Sabo and Luffy. They watch her back once she sets sail. She only wears one red glass bead earring because the other one got ripped out of her ear when a child, leaving her earlobe torn (don’t think about it too much 😢). Also, YES! she does wear a hibiscus flower just like Rouge (because I hate you and I want to make you cry, muhwahahahaha).

Also, I really wanted her to have super textured curly hair that licks behind her like flames. I am always considering whether or not a character should have long hair or not because I don’t want it to be a hindrance if they’re in a fight (or if they ARE a fighter with long hair, how to they avoid an enemy making use of that?). Ace is, of course, a Logia-type Devil Fruit User so I think she wouldn’t have trouble with people grabbing it LOL I get the feeling that she doesn’t take very good care of it even though it looks amazing. Like you’d think it would be soft and bouncy just by looking at it but if you ever get the chance to run your fingers through it, it’s a total rat’s nest and there’s sand and food all up in it. She still falls asleep while eating 😂 but she tries her best to only do it around people she can trust (woman moment 😔).

Honestly, her design is not that different from Ace’s canon look. It feels really vital to Ace’s character to have a lot of skin showing. And he’s always hanging all over himself with his hips all cocked like the weight of the world is too much to stand up straight. It is certainly not my OWN preference to make her an absolute smoke show. That’s just the character, okay? (I’m partially lying and the proof is that I turned the emblem on Ace’s hat strap into a sternum tattoo for no other reason than that it is sexy af.)

Here are some closeups of Ace:

Now for Sabo, I’ve made her very girly. I tried putting her in pants or something more militant but she told me that she’d wear the big poofy sleeves and hiked-up ruffled skirt. I think Sabo has always had a strong grasp on his fashion sense and individual flair and I truly believe that his personal style is one of the major influences for the rest of the Revolutionary Army resulting in the very flashy, queer, steampunk aesthetic (aside from Dragon’s plain-ass cloak). So of course I had to implement her nonconformist look when reimagining her as a woman and dress her up to the nines.

I’ve given her very ornate jewelry that is there to tell a story, even if she herself doesn’t know it. I like to think she picks up stuff from her travels that resonate with her, such as a damaged set of earrings with one stone missing or red cup-shaped shells featuring three nestled pearls. Another accessory that cannot go unmentioned is her dragon claw hat pin that keeps her top hat resting on top of her hair (and is definitely used as a weapon when the situation simply doesn’t call for trusty metal pipe). She also has a veil that obscures her prominent facial scar. I imagine she’s not very keen on the reminder of the incident from her childhood that took away her memories. I also kept her chipped toothed because 1) it’s fucking adorable and 2) is a visual reminder that she no longer aligns herself with the nobility who would have gotten such a thing fixed. She is so poised in almost every outward facet of her life from her dignified role as the Chief of Staff to the elegant materials in her clothing that it can be easy to forget she was also a rough and tumble forest dweller. Every time Koala remembers this, he lets out the biggest sigh.

Her hair is inspired by Gibson Girls and Elizabeth Swann from the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. I wanted it to be fussy and tidy but fall apart when she’s in moments of distress. For example, when she remembers her sisters, her hair starts to look like Ace’s flaming mane. I’m so in love with her, I think she looks like an adorable little porcelain doll that would fuck you up. I made an effort to keep her eyes a little bit manic. I get lost in her steely black orbs (and also Ace’s warm brown ones, but we’re talking about Sabo rn).

Here are her close-ups:

Plot notes for this AU:

For this series of character designs, I wanted the expressions and outfits to be aligned with the canon plot but I don’t know if I have the heart to kill fem!Ace in my AU. I’m too attached and ASL has suffered enough!!!!! But Ace’s death is also a major defining moment for Luffy so it feels disingenuous to completely avoid it. Also a huge aspect of Sabo’s character is carrying on Ace’s will and I have so many thoughts about how the Dressrosa Colosseum scene would play out if they were all women. Oh well, I’ll cross that tragic bridge when I get to it. I’m definitely going to draw some Modern AU Girl Piece ASL though. They deserve to hang out with no stakes 😭 They are sisters!!!

Check out the tag “girl piece” on my blog for my other One Piece genderbends! 🥰

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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The Younger Kind Part 42 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The retirement party for Admiral Bates is well underway when you and Bradley run into Beau Simpson. He's just one reminder that some things will never change for the two of you. While you're really enjoying the evening out with your boyfriend, it's starting to feel like nobody else wants you to.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

On the way up to the San Diego Botanic Gardens, Bradley held your hand and sang while he drove. Nat was in the backseat humming along with him, and you were simply looking out the window at the ocean and the rocky cliffs along the wilder more rustic beaches north of the city. The sun was setting, and the orange and purple streaks along the horizon cast everything in a dreamy light.

Then you thought about Noah and wondered if you left enough ants on logs for him and Amelia to eat for a bedtime snack. You weren't sure if you got his favorite pajamas out of the dryer before you started getting dressed for the night. "Should I text Amelia and check on Noah?"

Bradley chuckled and glanced at you as he drove. "We just left, Baby. I told her to call me if she needed anything, so I'm sure they're fine."

You tugged gently on his hand. "You texted me all the time when I was Noah's babysitter. Even when you were out on app dates."

Bradley squeezed your thigh through all of the layers of your skirt as he quickly glanced at Nat in his rearview mirror. "I wasn't texting you to check on Noah, because I knew he was perfectly fine in your care. I was texting you because I couldn't focus on whichever woman was right in front of me when I knew you were waiting at home." You smiled as warmth washed through your body. "I was a complete fucking mess on every single one of those dates. Running back home to see if you were sitting on the couch or at the kitchen table. Curious about which color Skittle was touching your lips and tongue. That's why I texted. And that's why you're not my babysitter anymore."

If Natasha could hear your conversation, she was thankfully pretending she couldn't. You brought Bradley's rough hand up to your lips and kissed him. "I'm a complete fucking mess for Noah's daddy." Bradley grabbed your chin and ran his thumb along your bottom lip, and you were shamefully a little turned on while someone else was in the car with you.

After that he dropped his hand back to your thigh, but you could see the flushed shade of pink on his cheeks and knew he was feeling as warm as you were. "I want you to have fun tonight, Princess. I love the way you always think about Noah, but I'm not going to worry about anything at home unless Amelia contacts us, okay?"

You let your head tip back against the seat as you said, "Okay. You're right."

Bradley pulled off of the main road into the parking lot of the beautifully lit up glass greenhouse structure of the gardens as he said, "I'll get a little champagne in your belly, and then you'll be focused on me." He was smiling as he found a parking spot, and you leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"Well, this has been lovely, but I'll meet you both inside," Nat announced as she hopped out as soon as the Bronco came to a stop. You watched her yank her black dress up in her hand and walk as quickly as she could across the parking lot in her massively high heels while you laughed.

"She thinks we're gross," you whispered as you crawled onto his lap. You kissed his mustache as you reached for his hat and put it on him. His eyes were soft as he examined your face, stroking his thumb along your cheek. You kissed him again, trying to remember that he was wearing all white while you were wearing dark lipstick. But now it was smudged on his lips and you whimpered softly.

"We are gross," he confirmed, wrapping his arms around you and holding you on his lap. "Now... who are you going to stay with all evening?"

You smirked. "My Daddy."

"Perfect," he replied, stroking the bare skin along your lower back, making you shiver. "Let's go find Mav and Penny and get some champagne."

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Bradley would never get over the fact that you were such a headturner, but with you in your formal dress, things were even worse than the night he took you to the Hard Deck in your worn out jeans. He should have bought you an actual crown to go with your outfit, because it would have matched perfectly with your flawless face and your poised demeanor. It would have made you stand out even more.

The difference tonight was the number of spouses and significant others who were present, and many of them were Bradley's age. As you and he walked inside the sprawling greenhouse enclosure which was filled with orchids, topiaries and rare plants, Bradley felt like he was cast in a spotlight. He kept his arm wrapped around your waist as you chatted away about wanting to see the rare flowers that were supposedly blooming tonight.

"We can check them out," he assured you, fully aware that you were completely oblivious to the women glaring at you and the men smirking at Bradley. "We just need to find the man of the hour and get you a glass of champagne first."

But the crowd of people moving deeper into the greenhouse slowed, so Bradley pulled you closer to him. You went willingly and stood with your chest pressed to his as you looked up at him and smiled. His hands fell to the swell of your hips as you touched all of his pins again. In your high heels, your lips met his neck more easily, and you whispered, "I think I'm the youngest person here," with a little laugh.

"You have no idea, do you?" he asked, taking a few steps forward with the crowd as he guided you along the stone pathway. When you looked up at him, clearly puzzled, he added, "You don't know how people look at you." He brought his fingers up to the smooth strip of skin above your skirt and watched you turn your head and look around the indoor garden as someone started playing the grand piano set off in the corner. Your cheek rested briefly against his white jacket before you looked up at him again.

"People are looking at me," you whispered, poking his hat so it was crooked on his head.

"Mmhmm."

"It's just because I'm younger, and I'm here with a very old man," you said with an innocent expression.

Bradley squeezed your ass and stroked your lips with his thumb as he said, "Blaming it on the age gap is only going to get you so far, Princess. You're beautiful, and people notice."

You grinned up at him and muttered, "You're such a daddy," just as someone in a tuxedo holding a platter of champagne flutes came past. "You're hot, too. That's why there are women looking at us."

Bradley snatched two flutes as he realized that you and he were actually in the line to shake hands with Admiral Bates. He wanted to argue and say that he wasn't the reason anyone took notice, but he could see Warlock and his wife now.

"Okay, Baby," he whispered, handing you a glass. "Make me look good in front of my bosses." And then he noticed that Cyclone and Maverick were there, too. And now Cyclone was looking at you like you were the midnight snack he tried to take home with him from the Hard Deck.

"Oh, it's that guy again," you whispered as you turned to face the front of the line. "The one who bought me drinks at your Navy bar."

"Admiral Simpson." Bradley had to fight the urge to grab at your body and taste your tongue, even though the only thing he wanted to do was make it clear to Admiral Simpson and everyone else that you were with him and him alone. His cock twitched in his dress whites just thinking about parading you around this retirement party with your hair wrecked and your skirt crooked and a fucked out little smile on your face.

He grunted as he laced his fingers with yours, and Cyclone met his eyes. He had to fight to keep his expression neutral as the other man's gaze traveled to your face and dipped down your body, and when he met Bradley's brown eyes again, he smirked. So Bradley smirked, too.

Then you and he were right there in front of the lineup of Maverick, Cyclone, Warlock and his wife. He let go of your hand to salute the others, and then Warlock's wife started to make an absolute fuss over him. But not before he heard what Cyclone said to you.

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You were young, but you weren't stupid, and you didn't appreciate the way most men besides Bradley looked at you. He never stared at your chest instead of your face when talking to you, and he never made you feel uncomfortable. You chalked it up to him being older and more mature than guys your own age. So it was almost laughable when Admiral Simpson, who was at least fifteen years older than your boyfriend, greeted you by saying, "I remember you. From the Hard Deck. You'd be impossible to forget."

As if he'd done anything besides piss you off when he touched your cheek. As if you hadn't pushed his hand away and strolled off with the drinks he insisted upon paying for. You wanted to make a snide remark, you really did. When he shook your hand and asked to be reminded about your name, you wanted to tell him to fuck off. But you knew that Bradley reported to both him and Maverick at work, so you decided to play nice.

You glanced up at Bradley who was sort of glaring at Admiral Simpson even though he was talking to Admiral Bates. You told Simpson your name, and then he gave your hand a little squeeze. "Please, call me Beau."

"Sure," you said cooly, carefully extracting your hand from his. "Beau."

"So, I heard that you're actually Bradshaw's babysitter."

The words made your skin prickle coming from him. "I'm working full time as a nurse now."

He smirked. "Are you still looking for a babysitting job after hours?"

You raised one eyebrow and sipped your champagne before you asked, "Do you have kids?"

"No, none," he replied easily, his steely gray eyes locked on your face. "But I'm sure I could still find something for you to do with your set of skills."

You were torn between throwing your champagne at him and loudly asking him to explain what he meant by that. But you didn't want to waste the drink when there was a delicious looking raspberry waiting for you at the bottom, and you were certain you already knew what he was getting at. So you simply said, "I'm kept very busy all day as a pediatric nurse and all night as Lieutenant Bradshaw's girlfriend. I just don't see how I could fit you in."

You turned away from his smirking lips when Admiral Bates' wife absolutely lit up and asked, "You're a pediatric nurse? That was my career for almost thirty years!" You were blessedly saved from having to talk to Beau any longer as Admiral and Mrs. Bates kindly asked you about your job and didn't treat you like a child. She even said, "I'll absolutely look for you again later tonight. I had no idea Lieutenant Bradshaw was dating a pediatric nurse!"

After you bid them farewell, you realized Bradley and Beau were standing very close together, and your boyfriend did not look happy. The last thing you wanted was to be the reason he didn't enjoy himself tonight. You downed the remainder of your champagne and bit into the perfectly ripe berry before you reached for his hand.

"Come on, Daddy," you said loud enough for Beau to hear as well. "I feel like dancing." With one firm tug, you got him moving away from the other man. "It sounds like there's a DJ in another part of the arboretum," you mused as he came along.

"I heard what he said to you." You looked up to see Bradley's expression was annoyed. "It's always going to be like this. You know that, right?"

You reached for two more champagne glasses as they came parading past you. "Save your berry for me," you instructed Bradly when you handed one to him. "It's my favorite part."

"Did you hear what I said?" he asked, stopping you when you tried to head off toward the louder music.

"Yes, I heard you, Bradley. But you're the one who keeps telling me to ignore it. You tell me it doesn't matter, and that you love me and that I shouldn't let it bother me. So what would you have me do? Ask you to yell at Maverick's boss for being weird?"

He sighed and said, "It's never going to stop. Because you're young and hot."

Now you were getting a little annoyed. "Well, can you live with it or not? And this is a two way street here, because I've had to deal with my fair share of Caseys and Helens. You're hot. You have a sweet little boy and a dog. You have your shit together. You're a man in your thirties, who could have any woman he wants, and it shows. But you told me you want me. And I want you. So Beau Simpson can just stand over there next to the seven foot tall brassavola nodosa orchid and look like an ass for all I really care."

Bradley was gaping at you as you put your hands on your hips and added, "Don't forget to save me your raspberry. Now I said I wanted to dance. Are you coming or should I go find Nat?"

"I'm coming," he whispered.

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Bradley wasn't sure how many glasses of champagne you'd had, but an hour later, you were still dancing with him inside the humid fountain room surrounded by rare ferns and imported shrubs while you giggled. The music was starting to pick up as the night wore on, and after you and he had danced to a handful of slower, romantic songs, a few with faster tempos played in a row.

He kissed your temple and whispered, "Let's take a break."

You scoffed and tightened your arms around him, your breasts pressed to his jacked inside your beaded top. "You're so old," you said, but it came out as more of a whine. "And sexy. And I want to keep dancing with you."

It was that easy for you to keep him on the dancefloor near Maverick and Penny. Even Nat was dancing nearby with Coyote, and Bradley was pretty sure he knew what that meant. "I'll bet you Nat goes home with Javy," he whispered next to your ear.

You gasped and turned to look at them over your shoulder. "Oh, I hope she does. He's so hot."

"Hey," he grumbled, tucking his fingers inside the waistband of your skirt and drawing your attention back to him.

"I mean... ewww, he's way too young! He's like thirty! I hate that."

"That's better." He leaned down to kiss you, and it was just starting to get a little dirty when Maverick cleared his throat.

"Just thought maybe I could cut in for a bit," he said with a smile at you.

"Sure!" you replied, and Bradley left you with his godfather after giving you a soft peck on the cheek. Then he went off in search of Penny at the bar where she was drinking a martini in her pretty blue dress.

"Oh, there you are," she said, flagging down the bartender again for him. "You want a martini?"

"Sure," Bradley replied. He was keeping track of how much he had so he could drive him later. Now he was also going to have to check in with Javy and see how much he'd consumed. "Amelia would text me if there was an issue, right?" he asked Penny.

"I'm sure she would. She probably has Noah in bed by now and is reading one of those horror novels she likes. Either that, or she's playing with the dog."

Bradley nodded and glanced to make sure you were still with Mav. "He really wanted to dance with your future wife," Penny said when Bradley's martini got dropped off.

He groaned. "Mav told you I'm looking at rings? Because I specifically asked him not to."

Penny laughed. "He's terrible at keeping secrets. You should have known better."

"I'll know better for next time," Bradley told her playfully. "And I don't care if she dances with him for the rest of the night, I just need to keep most of these other assholes away from her."

Penny laughed with the rim of her martini glass pressed to her lips. After she took a sip, she said, "I'm not surprised you feel that way. She's sweet and she's young. And while I miss having her living on my street, I'm sure you must be happy she's living with you now. The trip to the lake house was really special, and it's easy to see how much Noah loves her."

Bradley smiled. "She fell in love with Noah before she fell in love with me."

"Anyone would, Bradley."

He and Penny were sipping their martinis when Maverick joined them, and Bradley turned so fast to see where you'd gone. "Seriously, Mav? You left her with Hangman?"

Maverick glanced back as well to watch Jake's hands all over that soft skin above the top of your skirt. Bradley's jaw clenched; nobody else should have access to you there. Even Mav had kept his hands respectfully on the back of your beaded top. And Jake looked handsome tonight. Bradley knew dress whites made any officer at least ten percent more attractive; it was something Nat told him years ago when he got asked out ten times at his promotion banquet.

"She'll be fine," he replied with a shrug, ordering himself a beer. "What's the worst that could happen?"

You asked him barely an hour ago if he could live with this or not. He had assured you he could. But this was Jake. He'd actually managed to kiss you in the middle of Bradley's kitchen. Jake knew what your lipgloss tasted like. "Fuck," Bradley grunted when Jake met his gaze. Because now he was smiling like the cat who got the cream while he let his hands drift a little further south toward your ass.

You were talking to him, about what, Bradley had no idea. Then you reached for his hands and guided them back up to your waist while Jake gave you the most distressingly fake innocent look he could muster up. When you glanced Bradley's way, you rolled your eyes before turning back to Jake, but when that song ended, you came over to the bar. Before you even made it all the way to him, Bradley secured you a glass of champagne with a raspberry.

"Princess," he said, handing it to you. "Did you have fun with Jake?"

"Not particularly," you said blandly, but Bradley could tell you were ready to laugh. "He invited me to the charity air show next month that he's flying in. Claimed he's donating five thousand dollars to the children's hospital and asked if I'd want to go since I work with kids. He also stressed that it wouldn't be a date, and that I would get to tour the hospital with him."

Bradley chuckled. He'd thrown his name on the list of volunteers as well, and he knew for a fact the selections hadn't even been made yet. "That's wishful thinking on his part." Bradley leaned in and kissed your cheek. "Do you want to go on a tour of the children's hospital?"

"Kind of," you said with a shrug while you gulped down your champagne just to get to the raspberry which made him smile. "But not with Jake. Obviously."

He tucked his fingers under your chin so you were looking at him. "Do you want to go with me if I get to fly in the air show?"

Your face let up. "Of course! I didn't want to say anything, but the whole day sounded pretty great, actually. Can you fly in it, too?"

"I'll see what I can do," Bradley said softly, looking across the crowded room and past the fountain to where Cyclone and Warlock were chatting. As much as he didn't want to, he could ask Warlock on one of his last days at work to push his name to the top if possible. And he'd rather choke on one of the raspberries, but he could feasibly ask Cyclone.

Bradley watched you pluck another glass of champagne from a passing tray before leaving your empty one on the bar. "Baby, how many have you had?" he asked with a laugh.

"Not as many as Natasha," you replied, nodding to where she and Javy were making out in the middle of the dancing couples. Actually, a lot of Bradley's colleagues were pretty drunk now. Even Maverick had rosy cheeks and a bit of extra swagger in his step.

Bradley set his empty martini glass down, already knowing that was his last drink for the night. Your eyes lit up as you finished yet another glass of champagne, and Bradley recognized the remix of the song as one from the kid friendly playlist you made for Noah. You shook the raspberry into your mouth and chewed it up before you kissed him.

"Dance with me," you demanded, and Bradley wrapped his arm around your waist and led you out to where everyone was bouncing around. The lights had been dimmed, and the fountain in the background was illuminated now. You danced wildly in his arms, and Bradley knew you were probably going to have a hangover tomorrow. When you spun around as you sang along, your ass grinding against him, Bradey leaned in close and kissed your neck.

"I love you, Baby," he said over the music as he ran his hands along any bare skin he could find. You responded by grinding a little harder against him, so he knew you heard him. He licked the shell of your ear and kissed you there as the song came to an end.

"I love you too, Daddy," you told him, kissing him solidly on the lips. "I think I'll have one more glass of champagne."

He was not convinced that was a good idea, but he took you back to the bar anyway. And now everyone was over here including Nat and Javy who looked very cozy together. You had another champagne flute in your hand when he asked Nat, "You're not going to need a ride home from me, are you?"

She smirked and shrugged at him. "Doesn't look that way."

"How long has this been going on this time?" he asked as you tugged on his arm.

"Daddy, can I have your wallet?" you asked loudly in front of everyone accumulated at the bar. Javy gaped at Bradley while Mav and Penny tried not to laugh. Nat was ready to gag just like she was every time she heard you call him that. You were probably a little drunk, but you probably also didn't care who heard you. Bradley pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to you, and you kissed his cheek and walked away with it.

"I feel like I should be concerned," he muttered to himself.

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You were quite tipsy now, and everything seemed like a good idea. Once you secured Bradley's wallet, you giggled as you went off to find that one guy carrying around the champagne who looked about your age. When you located him, you smiled and waved him down.

He looked like he was going to drop his entire tray as he eagerly asked, "How can I help you?"

Then you told him your name and said, "I was hoping you could do me a favor."

"Anything," he said quickly, and you couldn't help but laugh which made him smile. You probably didn't even need the wallet after all, but you took out fifty bucks and pointed across the room. "You see that guy standing over there in the dress whites?" You knew that didn't really narrow it down in this crowd, but luckily at the moment Beau Simpson was mostly surrounded by women and men in gowns and suits.

"Yes."

"Any chance you can go to the bar, get a glass of top shelf bourbon and take it to him?"

He shrugged and said, "Sure."

Then you handed him the fifty and said, "Please make sure you tell him it's from Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and his girlfriend."

"Done," he replied, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of making some easy money.

As he walked away, you smiled to yourself and strolled back to Bradley. He seemed to be arguing with Natasha about something, so you carefully tucked his wallet into his pocket. He turned to face you, and you kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'll be back after I use the ladies' room."

"Don't take too long," he told you, patting your butt before returning to his conversation with his best friend.

You nearly tripped when you saw Admiral Beau Simpson being delivered his glass of bourbon, and it seemed to do what you had hoped it would. He was laughing as he searched the crowd, and then he took a sip of it with an appreciative look on his face before joining Admiral Bates in conversation. You were practically cackling as you made your way to the restroom with your poofy skirt billowing around you.

Tonight you really felt like a princess, and when you checked yourself in the ladies' room mirror, you were delighted to see that the makeup job Natasha did still looked really good. You clicked across the marble floor in your heels and tucked yourself in one of the stalls. Very carefully you bunched your skirt up, and just as you finished and flushed the toilet, you heard the main door open, and a few voices echoed through the room.

"She's way too young for him," said one woman, and you tried your best to keep your skirt bunched up as you peeked through the slit between the stall door and the wall. She was kind of pretty; she kind of looked like an older version of you. "Whoever she is, she looks like she's about twenty. Her purple dress is pretty though."

You froze, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

"He's just having his midlife crises a few years early. All men have one," another woman, this one with red hair, told the first one. You were nearly certain they were talking about you and Bradley, and you had to keep bunching your skirt up so they wouldn't see it under the stall door. "But he's got a kid, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," replied a third woman with black hair, who was fixing her makeup. "He's a cute little thing. Rooster brought him to base a few times."

Your heart was pounding as you stood there and listened to someone you'd never even seen before talk about how cute Noah was. You couldn't decide if you wanted to scream or cry as she said, "He'll snap out of it soon when he realizes he can do better. I'm sure she's got nothing to offer other than being young and eager. He'll get tired of that soon enough."

The first woman laughed merrily as tears stung your eyes. You were standing in a bathroom stall holding the bunched up skirt of the formal dress Bradley bought for you while three women you didn't even know trashed you for no good reason.

Then the second woman said, "She wasn't even with him when we passed him on our way here."

"Yeah, it's probably past her curfew."

Now all three of them laughed as your lip quivered.

You watched the first woman wiggle the top of her dress a little lower as she fixed her cleavage. "Listen, he looks hot in his dress whites. If she's not there when we go back out, I'm going to accidentally bump into him."

"No, you're not!" came one reply.

"I dare you," came the other.

You let the fabric fall from your hands as you squared your shoulders. They were talking about Bradley. They were talking about Noah. They were talking about you and your family. You were tired of being treated like you were a fucking joke. Then you unlatched the stall door and were met with three pairs of surprised eyes.

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Who do they even think they are? And Bradley better fly in the air show, because I want Princess to get to visit the children's hospital. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 43

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atrwriting · 1 year ago

Text

trust me (part 2) — billy the kid (2022) x barowner!reader

okay part two hehe

as always, warnings: smut!, fem!sub!reader, dom!billy, p in v sex, oral m receiving, overstimulation (I should be stopped), choking, dirty talk, breeding kink (hehe)

anyway… trust me, part two:

billy had kept his promise.

he always kept his station right at your bar, in the middle.

you figured it would stop a few days after the two of you were married — but billy held his post.

with billy there and making his silent presence known as your defensive line, most trouble-making men would eye billy, order their drink, grunt, and then pay. to hell with a fake wedding ring, even your real one — when billy the kid sat at your bar, glaring at walking problems from the brim of his hat, no one dared cause a scene.

the townspeople may have stopped their shenanigans… but that didn’t mean that all of your problems disappeared.

in fact, new ones seemed to pop up.

as his new wife, you wouldn’t say they followed billy — but they sure as hell didn’t follow you.

groups of men wearing worn clothes with their guns on display would venture in and immediately start glaring at billy. you found that odd — because what man walks into a bar, and doesn’t immediately order at the bar?

“don’t pay them any mind, sweetheart,” billy would say to you, trying to quell your worries.

you narrowed your eyes at him, wiping down a glass. “if you didn’t want to marry a guard dog, maybe the queen’s daughter is still single.”

his lips would purse in a way that suggested he was fighting a laugh. “i’ll protect you, darlin’. you doubt that?”

“and i’ll protect you,” you bit. “you think i wouldn’t? like i said, you could probably charm —“

“as if any of them could scare me like you do,” he spoke lowly, the want to smile now winning. admiration could be seen in his piercing blue eyes, which also tugged on the corners of his lips.

“as if any of them would know that that’s you trying to be sweet,” you scoffed, half-jokingly. “and — as if anyone would be flattered like i am.”

billy sat back in his chair as he turned his head towards the side. he averted his eyes as he tried to hide his large grin that threatened to take over his face. when a rosy hue had founds it way onto his cheeks — you knew you had done it. you actually made billy the kid blush.

one day you would tease him for it — but not today. with the paranoia that always lingered in the back of your bar — you chose to award yourself and billy with this small moment of intimacy: knowing you were the only person that could break through his tough exterior.

but that tough exterior immediately rose once those men approached the bar.

there were about four or five of them, outnumbering both you and billy. billy always had a gun on his belt, and you had one underneath the counter and strapped to your leg, and a knife on your ankle — but even with those, you were out numbered and out gunned.

when they approached, you put on your brightest smile. “hello, gentlemen — anything i can interest you in?”

“gentlemen?” one, in the back, chortled.

the one in front smirked, swishing the joke in his mouth a little bit. he seemed to contemplate his response for a moment, and you fought the urge to narrow your eyes at them. you could feel the heat of billy’s gaze on the side of the man’s face. finally, the man spoke, “what my… associate means to say, miss... is that we’ve never been called ‘gentlemen’ by such a fine lady.”

you smiled politely. dismissing his words, you asked, “and what can i get for you?”

the man shoved his thumbs into the extra space in his belt, puffing out his chest. his cheeks were rosy — probably from the sun. you weren't sure what he did for work, and you figured it was best not to find out. a man who spent most of their days outside either worked the land or stole from someone else’s. you didn’t want to judge, and didn’t — but they didn’t look as harmless as billy or his gang.

“i was actually wonderin’, beautiful, how you managed to tie ‘ol billy the kid down,” he grunted. “in my day, the kid’s not loyal to nothin’.”

“insulting my husband will not get you drinks on the house, sir,” you stated.

“oh — you think we can’t pay?” he scoffed, his eyes widening. “do my ears deceive me, boys?”

“what’s a lady supposed to believe when you throw a cheap shot in front of her?” you asked before his associates could respond. “you’d be smart to mind the character you give off to the woman who controls the whisky pour, sir.”

his eyes narrowed, but his smirk didn’t waver. “i guess i should mind because my boys and i decided we would make this a regular spot of ours. whisky. five glasses.”

you pulled five glasses and grabbed the bottle from under the counter. lining them up, you began to pour. your gaze never left the man’s as you poured a single shot in each.

like billy said once — they had to respect you, before they respected him.

you pushed the glasses towards the man, and he laid a few bills down on the counter. each man took their glass and began to walk away. before the man you were staring down walked away, he turned to billy, and spoke, “we’ll be seein’ you around, old friend.”

billy didn’t respond. he just glared at him until he sat down.

their departure didn’t not quell any anxiety. having billy there was a blessing when there was one man making a fuss — but five? five who had a problem with billy?

you immediately dipped down under the counter so they couldn’t see you speak to billy.

loud enough, so only he could hear, you asked, “you know him?”

“know 'em enough.”

your teeth sank into your lip. “you want me to fetch jesse? should i get one of the boys in the back?”

“no, darlin’,” he spoke. “i told you — don’t worry about a thing.”

“i don’t appreciate being kept in the dark, billy,” you spoke. “i’m not asking to know everything — but at least let jesse know if you think it’s the right thing to do. you sitting there and not doing anything doesn’t make me believe it’s not a problem — it makes me think you’re only here to make me safe, when it sounds like this is going to get bigger than me.”

“i told you it would be fine,” his answer was quick and flat, dismissive.

“alright,” you sighed. “i trust you.”

you stood up then, averting your attention to a rag and glass in your hands that hopefully gave off the impression that you weren’t trying to secretly talk to billy. you stepped away from billy to stock bottles, attempting to clear your head. you didn’t necessarily blame billy — but you didn’t know how to feel. you didn’t have a problem with who he was or what he did — but you did have a problem with him not being able to handle similar situations as a team. a unit. sure — men would never be as scared of you initially as they are with billy, but you weren’t useless or defenseless.

you knew billy didn’t think of you like that, no. you were more so worried that he didn’t want to share the burden with you.

he should never feel shame. never. not ever.

you walked back over to him then, wiping down the counter. you didn’t raise your eyes, but lowly, you spoke, “i hope you know this, but in case you don’t — i’m proud to be your wife, billy.”

he was mid sip when you said that, which stalled a response from him, so you took another chance. maybe you should have, maybe you shouldn’t have…

but you did anyway.

“and i feel lucky to be with a man who would protect me,” you stated. “that i feel protected by.”

billy didn’t answer — but you weren’t as strong as you were by prying. billy could read you like a book and you hoped that the message was loud and clear: support. he had your support. you didn’t look up at him, didn’t mention it again, and didn’t try to get his attention…

he’d let you know if you needed to know something.

you had to trust him with that.

it would be a little while before the men at the table left. it was approaching close — and you were scared that they would never leave. you tried to keep your gaze off of them, and thankfully you never met their eyes if they had been looking over when you were. unfortunately, it appeared that they had been looking over — because billy was growing tenser by the moment.

“i could kick them out,” you whispered, keeping your head down.

“you’d do that to polite, paying customers, darlin’?” he asked sarcastically, shaking his drink around.

you fought back a smile. “i’m going to let them know about last call. hopefully they take the hint.”

you grabbed a bottle of liquor and ventured over to the men at the table. you kept your gaze trained absentmindedly ahead of you, but not on any of them in particular. when you approached, you had found most of their eyes already on you.

“just coming over to let you gentlemen know that we will be closing soon,” you stated. “can i top anyone off before that?”

“you can top me, sweetheart,” one of them chortled.

“mason, enough,” the man from before barked. “why, yes… that would be very kind of you. we’ll be on our way afterwards.”

you brushed off mason’s comment and began filling their glasses. they each immediately slammed it back, pulled out a few bills, and handed them to you. for whatever reason — they complied. politeness in their demeanors, they stood up and even pushed their chairs in before they left.

the main one, from before — you hadn’t caught his name, threw over his shoulder as he left, “be seein’ you soon, kid.”

from the way billy glared at the door… you knew he took that personal.

a little while later, you were both changing for bed. billy was moving with a sort of frustration in each of his movements. he was quiet, and quietly fuming. there was a deep set in his brow — alerting you that so many thoughts were behind those pretty eyes of his.

“do you want me to trim your hair?” you softly asked. “looks handsome — but looks long enough to get into your eyes soon.”

he didn’t look at you as his teeth sank into his lip. “yes, um… that’d be nice.”

you grabbed shears before gesturing him to sit down.

“i think those men were so rude because they were jealous of your hair,” you mused. “don’t think they’ve seen their own in the mirror for years.”

a corner of his lips raised slightly, but lowered almost immediately. you began to trim around his head, keeping most the length full but not long enough to touch his neck. even if it was impractical for what he needed — you loved the little curls by his hairline.

“they were jealous that i have such a beautiful wife,” he spoke.

“you are something else, mr. bonney…” you trailed off, brushing the stray hairs off of billy and turning to put the shears away.

that was when you felt the slightest touch on your palm, and then you felt fingers weave through yours. you turned to find billy’s blue eyes holding yours. you admired that about billy — even in stressful situations, he was not shy.

you smiled at him, and brought his hand up to your lips. you kissed the back of it, hoping he knew how much love you had for him. after, you climbed into his lap — sitting face to face with him.

“they’re a rival gang,” he spoke, then swallowed thickly. “while we found mostly honest work — they didn’t. we’ve caught them stealing from our employer a few times. nothing we can’t handle, but they’re starting to take it personal.”

you were stunned he even told you. he didn’t keep secrets — but since you two had only been wed for a short time, this was the first real threat that had come at you both. you watched as his jaw tightened a few times, and you were unsure of what it meant.

“is this…” you began. “is this the first time they’ve approached any of you in public?”

he nodded. “i’ll make sure they stay away.”

you raised an eyebrow. “...because of me.”

he didn’t answer. “if this is business, you take care of it like regular ‘ol’ business. you let me get in the way — might not end as well as you think it might.”

his eyes were accusatory. “you think i can’t do both? that i can’t protect you?”

“didn’t say that,” you said softly. “i’m just saying… your gang is made up of a few men, and i’m just one person. i’m worried that if you worry too much about me —“

he caught you by both sides of the chin with that. his touch wasn’t hard or forceful, but sudden enough it caught your attention.

“don’t you dare ever even think that you are less important than them,” he grunted. “you’re what i’ve got in this world. you, darlin’. don’t you forget that.”

“i know,” you sighed. “you’re everything i’ve got in this world. i didn’t need a man, you saw… but i wanted you.”

his lips parted at that, and his eyes began to search yours. you had never seen anything like it; billy appearing so pure and vulnerable, almost innocent. like he was laying himself bare before you and he didn’t even realize he was.

“i’m not saying you can’t protect me,” you whispered. “i’m just asking… please, let me do what i can do to protect you, too.”

he didn’t respond. his hand found the back of your neck, and you both leaned your foreheads together. the bridge of your noses touched — which felt odd, but you found your heart swelling at the feeling. billy’s thumb was rubbing against the back of your neck, finding its way to tangle within the hairs.

“i never wanted you brought into something like this,” he admitted. “it’s my —“

“william bonney, don’t ever say something so untrue to me,” you whisper-hissed. “it’s not your fault — and you didn’t bring me into anything. there’s no fault there. however, i will fault you if you keep me at arm’s length on this. please… trust me.”

the hand on the back of your neck founds it way to your cheek where he began to stroke the skin with his thumb once more. you leaned into his touch, grateful for its warmth and comfort. you open your eyes slightly to find billy already gazing at the beauty in his lap. his baby blue eyes were a stunner to anyone and everyone, and somehow they always got the best of you.

“i’m just too selfish of a man to not give my pretty girl everything she wants,” he spoke in a raspy voice. “nothin’ could compare to how sweet those lips look when she smiles for me.”

the grin spread wide before you could help it, and you cast your eyes down to avoid the blush behind so obvious. billy bent his head down, trying to catch your gaze once more before you became too shy.

“oh, no, sweetheart — can’t take from me what i earned,” he coaxed. his thumb found the plumpest part of your bottom lip, and slightly pulled it down into a pout. “prettiest lips i’ve ever seen in the west.”

your lips encircled around the tip of his thumb and lightly sucked in the tip. your hair fell down around your shoulders and curled around your forward as the temperature in the room began to increase. you watched as billy’s eyes flicked back and forth between your beautiful eyes, and how your lips sucked him in.

“goin’ show me what those pretty lips can do f’me?” he asked, lips parted.

you nodded then, sliding off his lap and on the floor. the pair of you tugged on his bottoms and let them pool around his ankles. upright on your knees, billy gathered all of your hair on the crown of your and looked down at you proudly.

“such a good girl f’me,” he rasped, barely above a whisper. “let me see those pretty lips work.”

with a blush on your cheeks, you leaned forward towards his hips. your hand wrapped around the base of his thick cock as your soft lips tucked the tip of his cock into your mouth. billy could’ve screamed at how good it felt in there — warm, wet, and wild. filled his veins with whisky and sunshine and tobacco all at the same time and he didn’t know what to do with himself. bobbing your head slowly, taking more and more of him in, you watched the stress leave his body. billy’s eyes drifted closed as his lips remained parted. the tension in his shoulders had disappeared, leaving only a man with his head thrown back against the back of the chair.

“that’s it,” he spoke. “that’s my girl.”

words like that… oh, words like that… they could turn even a saint like you into a slut. mixed with the sultriness in his voice — the whining, the wanting, the needing — you didn’t know if you wanted him to cum or not. if he came, he’d feel better, sure — but to deny yourself this picture? the scene of your man, your lethal man, succumbing to even the smallest of touches? praising you? guiding you? there was nothing better, nor purer in the world to you than to be before him, on your knees, as his wife. the sight alone was enough to make you take him deeper.

“that’s right, baby — little bit more. show me what you can do,” he grunted. “makin’ me so proud. ah, fuck…”

his reactions were like treats — and who were you to deny yourself of something your husband was so willingly giving? he was melting in your hands before you, and there was nothing more you wanted than to make him feel good. spit ran down your puffy lips, your cheeks, and along your jaw. the feeling of the trail sent all of your senses on fire until the only thing you saw, touched, smelled, felt was billy. one of his heavy hands came to rest on the back of your head, guiding your bobbing motions.

“got me weak, darlin’.” his breathing was heavy, almost spent. “want you on the bed. need to fuck my good girl sweet and proper.”

you reluctantly retreated from him and stood up, huffing. he immediately caught wind of your disheartened expression as his brow furrowed.

“what’s the matter?”

you let your nightgown fall to the floor as you stood in front of billy, bare for only him to see. billy was shameless as his eyes raked up and down all of your delicious, beautiful curves that were only illuminated by candlelight. you weren't backing down, however, no — you stepped forward, leaving very little space between you. you could feel the tips of your perky nipples grazing against his cool skin and shock went up and down your body. with big, unrelenting eyes — you glared up at him.

“finally get my husband to relax and i get stopped when i’m being nice.” you were smiling, being coy — but there was an edge of truth to your voice.

he smiled knowingly, not missing a beat at your discontent. “i’ll show you nice, darlin’.”

he pushed you back against the bed and immediately crawled between your thighs. it was so hard to stay mad at billy when the warmth from his own body would spread up and down yours, bonding the both of you. he pushed your thighs back against your torso, hooking the backs of your knees in his elbows.

“think i’d waste a drop when those men were starin’ at my wife, today? my girl?” his long, thick fingers began playing with your folds. your breath hitched at the feeling, an immediate gush of slick collecting on the tips of his fingers. he swirled around your clit, pulling you into him and his attention. “almost fuckin' killed them, every last one. i’ll get you so round and full — no man will dare flirt with my girl ever again.”

your breaths were light and needy as his words drifted through the air, your eyes fluttering closed. talk of kids surprised you, but not the sentiment. being so free and wild to talk of such things drew a certain excitement out of you that you didn't know existed. your senses were on fire, and now they were focused on having his cock pump you full of him. his lips were by your ear, nibbling on the lobe — and it sent you fucking mad. “yes, billy, please — want your baby so bad.”

“that's right, sweetheart,” he groaned. “need my cock inside you now —“

billy immediately retreated his hands to grab his cock and stuff it inside of you. the preparation was only slight — making there be more friction than ease. you gasped at the slight pain, but immediately fell into billy’s kisses as his lips drew shapes on your cheek and jaw.

“take me just like that, darlin’,” he grunted. “always so good to me. so proud —“

every inch was something billy held over your held. its teasing and taunting were persistent at your entrance, prying at your mind and your bottom lip. he pulled in and out, shoving another inch in with every thrust. you were at his mercy, tucked below him. he had every ounce of your trust and you had every ounce of his — and you couldn't think of anything better than the most dangerous man in the west turning you into a fucking mess.

“you’re so deep, billy,” you whined. “never — felt so good —“

“mind already going soft on me, huh, sweetheart?” he spoke, rocking his hips back and forth. you could feel your pussy stretching around him, wave after wave of arousal coating his cock and sucking him in deeper. it craved him. it throbbed for him. it pulled him in until there was nothing left of him to give. with his balls sitting heavy at the bottom of your entrance, you let out a cry. billy could only laugh darkly in your ear before saying, “pussy wants me so bad — just beggin’ me to breed it. can't be mean now, can i?"

you threw your head back against the bed, neck stretching with it. your teeth dug into your bottom lip as your eyes screwed shut. your entire lower body was on fire with each of billy’s thrusts. the depth and strength of his hips caused his cock to bury itself inside you, threatening to never leave. it was pure, it was passionate — but it wasn’t enough. there was an itch and it needed to be scratched. you should've maybe asked, maybe you should've been embarrassed to want something so dirty, so naughty, so unladylike — but you didn't care. you couldn't care — so you tried something.

you grabbed the wrist he wasn’t using for balance, and brought it up to the upper half of your body. his thrusts didn’t stop, but he watched you warily — waiting for a sign to stop.

but one never came. you let his fingers ghost around the circumference of your throat, letting them rest there. when they didn’t immediately squeeze, you tightened them around your own throat. billy could feel the build of a moan in your vocal chords, and it sent of a shock of arousal right to his cock. his eyes went wide with shock, then dark with lust.

“dirty — fuckin’ —“

he immediately got the hint.

he squeezed the sides of your throat just enough, and held you down. your whines were pathetic — incoherent, pitiful, and downright crazy. the head of his cock was hitting some of the most sensitive parts buried deep inside you that only he could find — and the room was spinning. pictures on the wall, furniture, lamps — things before you all going hazy and doubling in quantity as the pleasure drove you up a fucking wall. he claimed every bit of your body, having you bent in the most vulnerable position you had ever been in and you gave in. you gave in to every push, pull, thrust — anything he offered. he was yours, and you were his, and there was nothing stopping the bond between you two. you let out a dirty, needful whine at the feeling of his claim around your throat and melted underneath his control.

“that’s how it’s goin’ be, huh, girl?” he spat against your cheek. “thought my wife was the sweetest — but she didn’t tell me she likes it dirty. can you cum like this, sweetheart? fucked like a whore, hand around your throat, from a wanted man?”

you could only nod pathetically. you were clinging to him for dear life, pushing off your orgasm for as long as possible. “just like that, billy. please — don’t stop. i’m so, so close…”

“can see those stars behind your eyes already,” he quipped, nipping at your neck. “my poor girl wants to cum so bad…”

you were nodding though your tears, trying your best to choke out words, sentences, pleas, anything — but nothing could encapsulate how billy had control over every inch of your body. every nerve ending stood at attention for the man before you, ready to give him anything he wanted.

“please, billy,” you sobbed through gritted teeth. “i want a baby. i want your baby!”

“gonna breed this pussy, fuck — !” his free hand immediately came down in between where your hips connected and began drawing the roughest circles on your clit. the friction should’ve hurt, but with your mind being so consumed in passion and lust — it filled every want and need. your body rose for him, keened for him, fucking sang for him — and it set him off. the animalistic side of man showed itself through the dark pupils of billy's eyes as lust began to cloud his mind. “that’s it, doll — everything i give you. jus’ like a good girl — take it all.”

your hands immediately left his body and slammed down onto the bed, grasping at the sheets. your hips then spasmed as your chest then fought against billy as it tried to raise off the bed — but billy held you down. as you sobbed, cried, whined — billy held you and supported you through it all as he swallowed every emotion you gave him. you were almost screaming — from the pleasure, from the intensity, from the overstimulation, but billy didn’t stop. he kept working your pathetic, puffy clit with his rough hand around your throat, speaking dirty and sweet nothings into your ear before he filled your pussy to the fucking brim.

his moans in your ear were strained as the veins in his balls tightened. his hips shot forward once, twice — before he slammed into you once more and held his hips there. rope after rope after rope of hot, sticky, white cum painted and melted into your gummy walls. all of billy’s muscles were pulled tight and taut as he fucked his cum inside of your sopping wet pussy.

“i’m so mean to this pussy, but she just can’t stop cummin’, can she?” he spat, grip still on your throat. “love when your walls throb around me… holding me in…”

billy only then pulled his hand away from your raw clit. you were shivering from the stimulation, already falling victim to the haze of an orgasm and exhaustion. with his hand still around your throat, he pressed a fat, wet kiss to the side of your face.

“can’t wait to make you a mama," he whispered. "but i like the process."

---

lmk what u think :) love u guys xo

-L

#billy the kid #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader #tom blyth #kid antrim #william bonney #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid fic #billy the kid x you #billy the kid fanfiction #william h bonney

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yandere-kokeshi · 1 year ago

Text

— His stress reliever

Pairing || yandere John Price x gn reader

Summary || being Captain's favorite soldier has its cons, one being that he wants to fuck you every chance he gets.

Warnings || Yandere behavior, talks about the reader having signs of PTSD, dub-con, possessiveness, oral (Price received), drugging (by syringe), spit used as lube, abuse of authority, slight choking kink. Also talks about readers wearing boxers (Who wouldn't? They are comfy af).

You swallowed thickly, hovering your knuckle over the door before knocking gently. “You wanted to see me, Captain?” you say through the door.

You hear a grunt, before his chair squeaking; his thick voice speaking up, “Come in.” he calls back, and you try to still your hand as it reaches for the doorknob.

Every time he calls for you, you can’t predict what will happen. Sometimes he’s all work, no play, giving you assignments like he does the rest of the 141 with a straight face and serious look in his eyes.

Other reasons, it’s for less business. More fucking. He starts slowly, offering you a nice glass of scotch before making you suck his cock.

It wasn't anything you were used to; he used you like a fucktoy. Making sure to call you a cunt, his whore, and his Sargeant.

He cums down your throat within minutes, his come salty yet delicious. If he’s kind enough, he fucks all of your holes and leaves you filled. Eating you out before starting all over again.

You faked a cough as you pushed open the door, reminding yourself to keep calm. And as you came in, and shut the door, you quickly saw paperwork stacked on his desk; which, you, cursed at yourself.

You wish someone was here, but everyone had gone home. Missions had been kicking ass and everyone deserved a break.

Especially you. But you doubted you were going to get one any time soon.

“I really hope you aren’t banning me from training again,” you laugh out, pulling the cushioned chair out of his desk as you sat in it — Price leaning back in his own, cigar curled in mouth as his bucket hat is hung behind him.

He let out a dry laugh, “Nothin’ like that again, don’t worry.”

You watch him closely as he huffs the cigar out, quickly putting it out on the dish before getting up, and pouring himself a glass of scotch.

He, of course, grabs another glass, making sure to fill it high enough — then, he pushes the second-full one towards you. “How you holdin’ up?”

“Fine.” you reply, trying not to think too hard about the last few weeks. You bit your tongue, wanting to ask why you were here. But with his quiet and demanding demeanor, plus the sly share of his beloved alcohol, it was obvious what he was going to demand.

He raised his glass, giving you that certain look before you took after him and took a sip.

The burn of the scotch now going down your throat and your nervous state was making it worse than it should. His prying eyes kept you on the edge of your seat.

“Ya’ know,” he starts, “I’ve been missin’ you, darlin’.” he finishes meekly, his eyes traveling down to your unfinished glass, and your thighs before back up to your face. “Been avoiding me like the plague, did I do somethin’?”

Your face gets hot, but you quickly think of an answer to his intense gaze. “Just been… busy, y’know?”

“Ah…” Price says, clicking his tongue. “Well, who’s been keepin’ you busy?” he inquires, eyes deepening with his question. “It certainly ain’t me– and whoever it is, you do understand the last time you tried going on a date, somethin’ bad did happen.”

You cleared your throat at his calm threat. And from the way he grunted at your reaction, realization struck you like a rod as he, the person you had to follow orders from, knew you were purposely ignoring him.

And, I mean, who wouldn’t? He’s a man of dignity. A man of strength, — your Captain, many men who looker up too, loves to abuse his power, always reminding that you owed him.

Price would constantly remind you that until you relented. It didn’t matter how close the two of you were, because, at the end of the day, he dangled your freedom over you.

Before you could say anything, he added on: “Besides, we both know what will happen if you go out of your orders I placed — right?”

Your throat feels dry. He was looking at you so closely. Like he could see through you, right to how fast your heart was beating. Or how he could see your thoughts in a cloud above your head, as clear and thick as the smoke in front of him.

You could only nod before finding the courage to speak up. An act of bravery and need of escaping pulling at your legs, making them bleed violently.

“Captain, I—”

“—It’s John,” he interrupted, heaving a heavy sigh.

You suck in a low breath at the sound of his first name. Your eyes nearly flutter shut. You nodded again, cursing yourself at the obedient behavior.

“Good.” he laughs, bringing the cigar back up to his mouth. You watch him intently, smoke curling and fogging in front of his face. Ash drops onto the desk, and his giant hands swipe it away quickly.

“So,” John starts, his hands resting on the table, “Are you gonna tell me what’s on your mind, or am I gonna find out the hard way?”

Goosebumps traveled from your spine up to your tongue, sizzling it shut with a steak; the never-ending screaming in your head.

“I—” you started, pausing with a sharp inhale, “...didn’t mean to ignore you,” you snapped, biting your lips as his eyebrow quirked. “I—I’ve been dealing with some... things.”

He grunts. An obvious noise of him asking you to continue on.

You turn your gaze to the floor. Fingers already making their way to your nails, picking at them. A habit you were trying to break. You pinched your nail, eyebrows creasing in shame before speaking.

“I’m just saying, Ca—John. Not meant as a jab at you or anything. But, I just wasn’t expecting company later in the day. I’m tired.”

He didn’t reply. The both of you sat in silence for a few seconds before he nodded; leaning back in his chair with a large squeak.

“Tired, yeah?” he hummed out, to which, your eyes nearly shut completely, feeling the warmth of his hand on yours.

His hand covers yours completely, thumb automatically starting to trace along your knuckles. They’re still covered from the fading bruises of the last mission, and he pays extra care not to press too hard.

His eyes stay on your touching hands, the rough pads of his fingers drawing aimless lines on your skin. “So, that’s all? Ya’ haven’t been getting enough sleep?”

“I haven’t.” You confessed quickly at his question. Your voice is hardly above a whisper.

You couldn’t sleep, not with the continuous night terrors. Waking up in a cold sweat. Tears fell as you gasped for air. Hiccups and the feeling of an elephant standing on top of your chest. It was terrible. Just like the man in front of you.

Yet, you somehow loved him. Craved his attention and praises like gold in a mine shaft.

“I can help if ya’ want. More than I can chalk up to just admiration,” he responds, his voice strained. Only then, when you finally look up at him, his pupils nearly overtake his eyes. “I want— need to help you the right way.”

You couldn’t get anything in, your mouth open and ready to say something; but he continued.

“I need you, love.” he immediately expresses, a gentle smile appearing before he leans back, taking a few more puffs of the cigar like a reflex. Something you knew too well.

You hum, “I assume you mean…” you trailed off, nodding your head at his obvious bulge in the rather tight pants. It looks like it hurt; probably does.

It wasn’t hard to ignore. Not with the way of his legs man-spread amongst his seat. How he was tilting his head at your adoring face, taking another drag of his cigar, making you watch his mouth intensely, letting your eyes linger with the dare of his confession.

“Well, can’t deny a confession to ya’ pretty body, now can I?”

He smirked darkly before standing up, rounding behind you as he pushed your chair back, clearing the distance around the table in two steps.

You knew what he wanted. The ways his eyes lingered too far down. How his hands automatically attached to your shoulders. How his black boots were still covered in thick dirt and mud, tracking footsteps all over the hard wooden floor, and you had a feeling he wouldn’t take them off anytime soon.

You follow him instinctively, getting up from your cushioned seat as his giant fingers trailed down to your hips; a grunt coming out of him as your hand glided over his clothed bulge.

“Get on ya’ knees, pretty thing.”

Dark eyes stared at you as you made it to your shaky knees, taking note on how he leaned his lower back on the table for support; forearm flexing on top of the desk, the sunset shining around him like a God.

You unzipped his pants, undoing the belt. Fingers working deftly as you pulled the cargo pants down. And within seconds, your face heats up — looking at the outline of his leaning cock inside the boxers, your hot breath making it throb.

His green boxers, which you’ve grown to know well, were stained with pre-cum, and the dark patches made you bite your tongue, — the outline of his cock was hypnotizing.

Already, your thighs were trembling and the flame in your sex was rising. A need of something. But yet, you had to treat the Captain first. He always cums first, no?

You dragged your fingers down the band of his boxers, before releasing his half-hard cock to the air. He let out a shaky groan, and leaned his head back.

“Fuck—”

His pants and boxers thudded against the floor, you licked your lips before your hands gripped his warmed and hairy, yet muscled thighs; breathing on his head before kissing his tip, which, his hand immediately flew to the back of your head as you wrapped your fist around the base of his cock.

Slowly, you started licking and tracing a finger on the underside of his cock.

He released a guttural moan and curved his fingers into your scalp. You started to pump your fist around his shaft as you swirled your wet muscle around his flushed tip.

You slip him deeper between your lips, feeling your cheek sucking the length that could fit in. It made him groan, already sensitive from the pent-up work earlier today. God, do you know what you do to him?

“Shit, yeah. Jus’ like that hun’.”

You felt him swell up in your mouth, the veins on his cock pulsing against your wet tongue and cheeks, — the salty, and thick taste of pre-cum staining inside of your mouth.

Bobbing your head back and down, you take him further down your throat, gagging. And that makes him curse, his British accent coming out as he gripped your head harder and deeper.

You moved your head faster, feeling drool slide out of the corners of your mouth whilst your hand worked on the part you couldn’t reach.

His stomach clenches rapidly, his groaning echoing throughout his office. “Fuck, what would I do without ya’, huh?”

Thick balls were slapping against your chin with every thrust. His unkept pubic-hair was itching your nose, but you couldn't say anything.

Not with your mouth stuffed with his cock.

Price begins to jerk his hips roughly in your face, repositioning himself to really start fucking you — which, sent his cock lodging down your throat. His desire crawling for more, exciting chills sending down his spine. You muffled a scream, the surprise when both of his large hands, who were originally on the table, were now supporting the side of your head, throwing your face back and forth in a ritual motion.

You choked, bubbling in the back of your throat as your hands started to grasp tighter around his thick thighs. Nails indenting and scratching for air. But he didn’t care. He kept going. He loved that he could see your spit dribbling down your chin, and cheek as well as smearing against his cock

Tears begin to roll down your face, and Price grunts loudly whilst he face-fucked you; his movements getting rougher and uneven, grip tightening around your head which made you focused on breathing through your nose.

“What a good sergeant, yeah - you so are.”

His thighs started to quake, getting tighter before his right hand removes itself, repositioning on supporting him on the desk behind him, and using the other hand to grasp the nape of your neck; throwing his head back while a harsh moan tumbles from his lips.

“Gonna blow—”

Hot strings of cum floods down, coating your tongue. You swallow, obediently listening to Captain rules. He keeps his hand on your neck, grasping some small pieces of your hair.

His groans were long, and deep. His blue eyes stare down at you, “Make sure ya’ swallow all it.”

You nodded, eyes watering more as you swallowed the rest. Before you know it, he lets go of you, and you gasp out; coughing lightly and rubbing the back of your neck as it hurts.

Unknowingly to you, your boxers were damp. Your crotch was flaming hot, and it was getting harder to ignore. But you couldn’t do anything. Not without his permission.

Both of you sat in silence. A sign of remembering and his torture.

“God,” he starts, his cock resting against the beefy abdomen of his. “You do too well,” He adds, as his head strains down to look at you before scrunching his eyebrows together at your massaged and uncomfortable state. “Did I hurt you, sweet’eart?”

You nodded, forcing a cough. Your throat hurt. But it didn’t matter. You delivered a lovely gift to Cap, didn’t you?

He noded with a slight frown, before leaning down to grasp your forearm — easily pulling you up as he helped you steady yourself, hands going on your hips as you regained center of gravity from the horror of a ride.

Price gripped your chin, forcing you to look up to him. And his eyes were predatory, flashed with lust. And you could tell he wasn’t satisfied nor finished.

“You did well, hun’,” he started, wiping away the leftover spit you didn’t get. “But, I’m still pretty hungry. So, hop on the desk, won’t ya?”

He left no room for questioning or begging to stop because when he said that, his hands immediately wrapped around your waist and lifted you up onto the desk despite your size. The added weight makes the desk squeak.

Price hummed in your ear, hands desperately yanking off your standard military T-shirt, and tactical pants. He threw them to the floor, as well as your boxers.

He chuckled, seeing your thighs trembling and smeared with your own slick. It was funny, really. Even though you say you despite him, look at you. A mess is what you are.

Starting gently, a surprise that came to you, Price kissed and sucked at your skin; hot breath blowing at your neck, ready to devour you at any given second.

“Ya’ drive me mad, love.” he states, giving your skin one last bite before mumbling into your skin to lay back — not caring that his papers will be damp by the end of this.

He removed the glasses of scotch and placed it on the floor; immediately driving his attention back to you and your soaked thighs.

“Le’s get you attention that you deserve, hm?”

You hesitantly nodded, and he frowns; his beard shining in the orange lightening of the dawn. “Don’t be like that, M’ promise I’ll be gentle.”

He unraveled his hand from your naked knee and spat in it; sliding your thighs apart and pushing you backwards until your legs popped with how far you’re spread.

He lubricated your hole, a finger entering despite your squeak that you erupted; which he smirked at. Price always enjoyed how loud you get after the first finger.

His other hand went to his cock, starting to jerk it off — redirecting it towards your hole.

You gasped, feeling it prod and tease you; coating himself in his spit, own pre-cum, and your own slickness before he lines his tip with your ready and awaiting entrance.

Price’s gentle but rough exterior came down, his giant hands rubbing your hip as he whispers within your ear, “I’ll go easy on ya. Jus’ this time, since you’re tired.”

Your breath hitches in your throat when without warning, he plunges his length deep within your cavern; the force of him has you jolt forward and sob out a cry.

A throaty groan escapes him as he feels your warm and tight hole accommodating his whole cock. He stills for a few seconds to appreciate how you feel around him.

“Shit, love, you feel incredible.”

He pulls out till only his tip is in you before he forces himself in again, doing so a few times to build up his strength. His hips snap against your chest in a rough rhythm; the sound of skin-on-skin echoes throughout the office, and your hands tightly pull on Price’s hips closer to meet his erratic thrusts.

“Fuck—!” you whine, leaning your head back on the edge of the desk.

And within a second, Price connects his lips onto yours — the kiss quickly turning into a sloppy one, as his thick tongue slips in and he starts to really fuck you into oblivion.

The desk starts to rattle, some of the containers and pens instantly falling to the floor as his hips brutally meets yours; your moans getting louder and louder as you felt your abdomen feel incredibly tight. A pit of lava landing on you as he kept fucking you.

It feels so good that it hurts, but still, you never want him to stop using you like he is now. Your eyes closed in bliss as Price has his way with you.

“Love it when ya’ captain fucks you raw? Huh?” he grunts, and you frankily nodded at his stern question. When did you not?

It’s wrong on so many levels for you to enjoy your Captain fucking you like this. But you can’t deny that you love every single second of it. Especially now, when nobody is around, and it’s just the two of you.

“—aptain—god!” you babble, feeling his large hand gently wrap around your throat and cup your pulse point, extending your head further as his teeth started to nick at your collarbone.

Usually, you’d whine. But you didn’t care. Not at this second.

“You’re mine, you’re fucking mine, ya’ here me?” his hips slap rapidly into your raw and sore hips as he utters those possessive words. “No one gets to touch— or treat you better. You got that?”

“Yes- Cap!”

He heaved, chucklng at your obediant behavior as he kissed your sweaty forehead; spreading your thighs even more apart as his large length penetrated you faster.

Your entire body was sizzling. Finegrtips and thighs zapping. And his tip brushing that spot has your whole body shudder in ecstasy. His fingers toying with your body, pulling at your nipples added to the sensations.

You felt your abdomen tighten and stomach bloom with pleasure; everything becoming too much. You struggled to get the words, his permision to cum with how he clutched your throat, bracing himself for his own release.

“Shit— gonna blow again, ya’ ready?” you nodded, hands tighetning around his forearm before a particular hard thrust hits that spot again, and you’re left screaming; your very own climax hitting you.

Cum — his cum — coats your puslating and tightening walls. Every of your nerves was shot, and you couldn’t help but moan silently. You can feel his hot liquid pulse, making its way down and making sure to coat every single area of red. It was addicting. So fucking addictive.

Your arms struggled to keep yourself upright on the desk as your body shook violently— eyes shut tight and tears threatening to come down your cheek at the intensity. No sound managed to escape you as Price still kept a firm hold on your pulse.

He groaned loudly, finally letting your throat go and you gasped loudly; air making its way back into your already defleated lungs.

“Sorry baby, didn’t notice hat’,” he grunts out, leaning down to be level with you.

he gently kissed your sweaty forehead, moving away some little pieces of air that were stuck, and kissed you on your monroe. You gently smiled, but forced a few coughs from discomfort.

“Tired?”

You nodded at him, and he only grumbled; hands already makingw ay to your raw thighs that are hurting.

“You lack nothing without me,” he states, and your heart banged out of your chest. Oh god, what did you do? “Good thing you belong to me, hm?” he hummed, ocean blue eyes turning into a deep blue sea — capturing you yet again in his boat, and taking you under his demand.

You hummed a quiet sound at him being so kind and gentle with you after having taken you like an animal only a few moments ago. But, you felt a slight prick on your neck; hand immedialty going to your neck, and seeing a droplet of blood. The fuck?

As you made eye contact with Price, your vision quickly got blurry — everything becoming slow and too much of a jumpstart to move. Your ears started ringing. And before you know it, it turned black and you fell back gently.

Of course, Price caught you. Ensuring that you’d awake comfortably and full.

He did say you were his, did he not?

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

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smoketransformer · 3 months ago

Text

A Life on the Road

Harry Hamner had a lot going for him, but it wasn’t enough. After recently being accepted to a very prestigious medical school, he started having doubts. Was the life of a doctor, just like his parents, one that he really wanted?

Harry had always fantasized a life as a truck driver. He would be able to travel the country without a care in the world. Sure, sitting all day probably wasn’t the healthiest - but he didn’t care. He wanted to live his life the way he wanted it and he could do that on the road.

One morning, Harry woke up to the sound of a loud horn. At first, he tried to ignore it but it was consistent and close. Harry got up from his bed and looked out the window. He saw a massive semi truck parked in the driveway. There was no trailer on it, but it still looked huge.

Confused, he quickly threw on a flannel and jeans and went outside to check it out and look for the owner.

He approached the truck and didn’t see the driver. The truck was beautiful. He was painted black, but had streaks that looked like wisps of smoke around. There was a decal on the the driver side door that read “Big Ol’ Smoke Trucking Co.”

He opened the door and a thought - no, an urge - came across him. He should sit in the driver seat, just for a minute, to see how it was sitting behind the wheel. He always wanted this opportunity.

Harry climbed up and sat in the seat. It was both new and familiar. It was where he belonged. The keys were in the ignition. He wanted to hear the engine roar, so he turned them. The engine came to life with such power.

Without even thinking, Harry shifted the truck into reverse and pulled out of the driveway. He was a natural, as if he was driving large rigs for most of his life.

He shifted it into drive and drove down the road. He didn’t know where he was going, but he drove like he did.

It felt like he was driving for just a few minutes, but it actually was for hours. He turned the radio on to the old country music station; he usually liked current pop, but this just fit the mood.

He made it out of the city and was driving past acres of crops. He was driving the speed limit, but noticed some flashing blue and red lights behind him.

“Shit,” he said to himself. The truck was probably reported as stolen and this dream would end for him. He pulled over and stopped the truck. The sheriff car behind him parked behind him.

The sheriff approached the cab. He was wearing a large hat and dark aviator glass. He sported a very thick, black mustache and had a large billiard pipe sticking out of his mouth.

“Is there a problem, sheriff?” Harry sheepishly asked.

“Reports of a missing truck. One like this,” the deep voice of the sheriff replied, “License and registration.”

Harry tried to act casual by reaching over to the glove box on the passenger side. He opened it up and noticed a light brown pipe and a pouch of tobacco. He pulled it out.

“Pipe smoker as well?” the sheriff asked, with his pipe still clinched in his teeth.

“Ummm…yeah,” Harry lied, thinking maybe the sheriff would let him off easy as a fellow pipe smoker. He set the pipe and pouch on the passenger seat and grabbed the license with registration.

“Not many of us around anymore, real smokin’ men,” the sheriff added as Harry handed him the paperwork. Harry didn’t know what was on it, but was hoping it would pass.

The sheriff looked at it, still smoking his pipe. The smoke smelled nice, Harry thought. To sell the lie that he was also a pipe smoker, he grabbed the pipe. He noticed it was already packed with tobacco and placed it in his mouth. He wasn’t going to light it though, but thought this was enough pass as a smoker.

“Got turned around, I think,” Harry said between the pipe in his teeth, “This was to Duvall, right?”

“Sure is,” the sheriff confirmed, “Picking up a load there?”

“Sure am,” Harry answered.

“More than a day’s drive though. There is a truck stop on the way though. Sure you’ll find it,” the sheriff added as he handed the paperwork back, “Everything checks out, Harold. You can go on your way. Have a nice day.”

Harold? Nobody ever calls him by his birth name, not even his parents. How did the sheriff know his name?

“Umm, yeah. You too, Sheriff,” Harry said as the sheriff walked off and he was looking at the paperwork.

His license had his birth name: “Harold Hamner” and birthday: “September 23”; but that was the only thing correct. It said the year he was born was 1963, making him 60 years old. His weight was also at 285 pounds, when he was actually 160. His photo was also not of him, but of a heavy old man with a balding head and large grey mustache. How did this pass the sheriff’s inspection? But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it did pass.

The sheriff drove past him as he started the truck back up. Harry continued down the road, without realizing the pipe was still in his mouth.

He continued down the road and onward to the town of Duvall. He started singing along to the radio with the pipe still in his mouth. It was the first time hearing most of these old country songs, but he somehow knew every word. He had almost forgotten that the load he had to pick up in the town was a made up story, but he still was heading there.

Harry was enjoying every minute of his journey. He was so much that he didn’t notice he started puffing away at the pipe in his jaw. He didn’t recall lighting it, but it somehow was starting to release smoke.

Harry thought the smoke tasted nice and smelled wonderful. He could get use to this. He even started inhaling a bit. It wasn’t harsh on his lungs; in fact, it was soothing and relaxing.

Harry was so in tuned to this way of life, he didn’t notice that he was building some fat on him. It was as if he had been sitting in the driver seat everyday for the past several years, eating only the greasiest of diner food. His hair was also thinning and he sprouted a short mustache. The cab of the truck was starting to get hazy from his constant pipe smoking.

He probably didn’t notice these changes because thoughts of him doing this for the past 10 years flooded his mind. To him, this was just who he was and has been.

Another 10 miles went by and another 10 years gone in Harry’s mind. Harry was stuck in thought as he puffed on his pipe. He couldn’t believe that he had been driving this truck for 20 years. He loved his career as a truck driver. He could smoke all day, sit on his fat ass, snack all he wanted and enjoy the views.

Harry’s hair had started falling out only on the top of his head and his clothes were getting tight. His fatty double chin was protruding and scrunched against his shirt. His mustache now bushier and smelling of tobacco smoke.

It was starting to get dark as Harry was pulling into the truck stop. An old man like himself had to get some rest before his next day of driving. After driving for 40 years, he knew it was best to take breaks in the evening.

He parked and pulled off his flannel since it was just way too tight on him. Luckily he had a large tank top behind his seat that he put on. His skin was wrinkly and his hair was grey, almost white. The only bit of color was yellow nicotine stain in his mustache since his pipe never left his mouth.

He struggled to get out of his seat due to his size. He waddled to the truck stop bathroom, leaving a trail of smoke, when he noticed the sheriff.

The sheriff’s car was parked and the owner was leaning against the side, with his arms crossed, dark sunglasses hiding most of his face and pipe clenched tightly in his saw.

Smoke poured from the sheriff’s mouth when he said, “Glad you found your way, Harold.”

Harold’s voice, deepened by his age and years of smoking, replied “Me too, Sheriff. Me too.”

#gay smoker #gay transformation #new smoker #smoke #smoketransformation #transformation #male tf

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atalienart · 10 months ago

Note

What are your tips on improving writing?

I don't think I'm at the level to give such tips. I myself try to read a lot of different books and learn from the authors that way. I watch youtube writing channels that talk about story structure, character development, or give advice how to improve prose and what to avoid. It's good to have someone who can look at your writing and give some feedback too. Also, I write. After some time, when I go back to my writing, I can see the mistakes better.

I can share some things that I've learnt from others and I think are good advice, for example:

use strong verbs (the person may walk but may also stroll, march or tiptoe);

there are more interesting verbs than to be;

weave description into action (The building was big. She walked towards it. ➜ She lifted her head as the stone walls grew before her. or He took the book in his hand nervously. He was tall, had brown hair and was wearing glasses. ➜ He reached for the high shelf without an effort. Book in hand, he pushed glasses up his nose to read the title - "Magic spells to improve writing." "This is it," he murmured, nervously running fingers through his brown hair.) (or some shit like that);

write sentences of different length so they don't sound monotonous;

If you want to write quick scenes. Short sentences. Actually. Make them slower. Why? Because periods. Are. Long. Pauses. xD

leave the most important words for the end of the sentence (He was thinking about the woman, while drinking his tea. ➜ He was drinking his tea, thinking about the woman.)

avoid filter words like hear, feel, see, etc. (She heard the noise that startled her. ➜ The noise startled her. or She was startled by the noise. or She jumped at the noise.)

be careful with time shifts (She noticed him behind the trees and smiled. Her beautiful monster. She runs to him and takes his hand and all of a sudden everything is all right. "Where is your hat?" she asks, but he just stares at her. He's always been a monster of few words, soft and quiet, but the lack of answer still surprised her. - is this present or past tense? confusion)

every scene should have a purpose - advance the plot, develop the character, add some conflict; ideally it will do all these things;

white room syndrom is bad - avoid;

use as many characters as you need; if one character can do the work of two, you need only one, scrap the other;

every character should want something!

give a character a desire, fear and misbelief;

Here are some of them. I hope they're useful. (They were useful for me even if I write in Polish :)) Of course some of these are optional but I think they make my writing better. I read somewhere that you should write only necessary words, so I'm trying to go by this rule. This is rather hard btw xD

#nat tries to write #writing tips #Sorry if grammar is wrong in those sentences - I write in Polish

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chestharrington · 1 year ago

Text

I Think We're Alone Now || Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Set in the S3 Starcourt era... Steve develops a fixation on the shopgirl-next-door.

Couple: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Content Warnings: explicit smut || sexual fantasy (includes oral, f and m receiving, p in v sex) and solo masturbation, kind of a panty/lingerie fetish if u squint or even just stare

Word Count: 2.9k

Whoever was in charge of Starcourt Mall planning was a sadist. That was the only explanation as to why a lingerie store was situated directly next door to Scoops Ahoy. Really, what business did it have in a food court of all places?

It also didn’t help that Steve Harrington was in the sex drought of all sex droughts— caused not just because of his stupid uniform, but probably also owed a lot to the fact that he had no college prospects, had lost his proverbial crown to Billy Hargrove, and had been cheated on with Jonathan Byers. Nothing kills a reputation quite like that.

So there he was— showing up to work every day, walking past scantily clad mannequins and shopgirls wearing tight miniskirts, none of whom gave him the time of day when he was dressed like that. Well, none of them except you.

“Good morning, Steve!” You greeted, wearing a tight white button-up shirt with a black pencil skirt. Like a sexy librarian had just walked off the page of a centerfold and decided to work retail. You were lifting the gate from the front of the store and placing a sale sign right between your two shops as he passed.

“You’re opening again?” He asked, pausing in front of his stupid, sticky helljob. You blew a loose piece of hair from your bangs as you stood and nodded.

“And closing. It’s our summer savings sale,” you explained. “You should probably expect a lot of rollover customers. Stop by if you’re in the market for anything. Maybe a nice gift for a girlfriend?” Before he could respond, you gave him a pretty smile as you disappeared into your dimly-lit storefront to finish opening.

You’d gone to high school together, though he doubted you remembered him. You were, after all, a senior while he was just an annoying sophomore on JV Basketball. You were on homecoming court, voted most friendly for senior superlatives, and were probably the hottest girl in your class. He didn’t have a chance then, and he definitely didn’t now.

But you always said hello when he passed by, and you would stop by Scoops sometimes after work and buy a cone of the flavor of the month. He wanted to talk to you more— to actually get to know you beyond a schoolboy crush, but you were so far out of his league that he couldn’t bring himself to try.

When he walked into Scoops, his boss, Allan, had already begun the process of opening. His task of vigorously polishing the glass case of ice cream felt pointless when it was about thirty minutes from being smudged with a toddler’s fingerprints.

“Steven, you’re late,” He said firmly.

Steve glanced towards the clock. “I’m five minutes early.”

Allan slung the rag he was cleaning with over his shoulder and sighed. “In my book, thirty minutes early is on time, and on time is late.”

Steve made a face as he refrained from telling Allan that payroll would disagree. Instead, he put on the stupid sailor hat and pinned on his nametag. And, just because he could, he clocked in early.

His morning was hectic. Like you’d said, there were countless rollover customers who wandered in after the sale next door, each clutching a bag of lingerie and giggling with their friends. His wrist was aching from scooping so much ice cream by the time lunchtime rolled around. He would’ve gone back for his fifteen, but there you were, your hair pulled back in a banana clip, fanning yourself as you stepped into the long line for ice cream.

When you finally reached the counter, you smiled like the two of you shared a secret. “Busy day?” You asked as you fished cash out of your purse.

“It’s been crazy. You?”

You peered up at him and laughed wryly. “God, you wouldn’t believe the number of women in this town who jump at the chance for discounted racy lingerie. I’m drowning in satin and lace today.”

He managed to smile without looking like a complete idiot as he scooped your ice cream, handing it across the counter as you looked at him with amusement.

“You memorized my order? That’s so sweet, Steve.” You handed him a few bills and coins across the counter. “Keep the change, alright? Hopefully I'll see you later.”

His cheeks burned hot. “Yeah, for sure.” He stared dumbly as you licked your ice cream and walked out into the food court.

He needed to find an excuse to buy lingerie from you... if only to have a reason to see you again that day.

———

It was late afternoon before he got his first break and darted into the lingerie store to the shock and horror of the women inside. He hip-checked a table displaying hosiery before he stopped in front of you, smiling expectantly.

You put down the stockings you were folding and looked at him with amusement. “Steve! What can I help you with?”

“Oh, uh… just…” He floundered as he searched for a reason, then remembered your suggestion that morning— buying for a girlfriend. “My girlfriend.”

“Oh? What’s her name? Maybe I know her.”

Steve hesitated for a moment, before saying the first girl’s name to pop into his head. “Her name is Nancy.”

As soon as your brows furrowed, he knew he fucked up. “Oh, I heard you two broke up, or something.”

He hesitated, mouth open as he tried to find words to dig himself out of the hole. “Oh… no, not that Nancy. It’s a different Nancy. You probably don’t know her.”

You raised your brows, but said nothing to suggest you doubted him. “I can help you find something. What were you thinking?”

He reached back and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. He hadn’t thought this far. “Uh, what would you suggest?”

You considered it for a moment, looking at him carefully. “Well, that depends. Are you buying something she’d like to wear, or something you’d like to see her in?”

Steve blinked dumbly. “Both?”

You laughed lightly and walked towards a table displaying an array of underwear. “So, if you’re going for practical and sexy, I’d recommend panties.” You held up a lacy white pair and his mouth went dry. “A pair like these is pleasing to the eye, but totally invisible underneath clothes.” You stepped back and gave a tiny spin. “I’ve got them on now, and you’d think I wasn’t wearing any. Absolutely no lines at all.”

Steve swallowed hard. Don’t picture it don’t picture it don’t picture it don’t— “Yeah, I’ll take those.”

You chuckled and grinned. “Well, you’re an easy sell. Do you want the matching bra and garter belt to go with that?” You gestured to the mannequin atop the table. “The set is absolutely stunning when worn all together.”

He hesitated, knowing he had no use for any of this stuff. Still, the vision in his mind of you wearing the set was enough to make blood rush south and all rational thoughts leave his brain.

“I really can’t afford the full set,” he finally said after a synapse successfully fired in his brain. “I’ll just, uh, grab her size then.” You nodded and smiled. He had to pretend like he wasn’t thinking of you wearing this same pair, imagining what size would be closest to yours. He grabbed blindly at the folded pairs and retrieved the first ones his hands touched.

“I’ll ring you up! I’ll even throw in our gift wrapping just because I like you so much.” You smiled and guided him towards the register, letting him cut the line of women waiting to pay. After he paid, you handed over a white box with a silky red bow and gave him a conspiratorial smile. “I hope you both enjoy.”

————

The box sat on his bedside table— the proverbial elephant in the room.

God, he thought. You probably thought he was a weird pervert who wanted to wear them or something. Well, he probably would if someone hot enough asked him to, but it wasn’t like he was seeking it out.

His thoughts wandered as they usually did when it was late and he was home alone with nothing (or no one) to do. That night, though, his thoughts were focused solely on you.

He thought about the professional pencil skirt you wore, of lace and stockings beneath. He yearned to peel them off of you with his teeth and bury his head between your thighs, tasting all you had to offer him. He wanted your manicured nails tugging on his hair, scratching his scalp as you cried out in pleasure above him.

He groaned, almost involuntarily reaching down to palm himself over his sweats. Talk about pathetic— even the tiniest mental image made him swell with desire. Fucking dry spell.

“Fuck,” he muttered, bucking into his own grip. Just the lightest pressure made him groan and toss his head back, the expanse of his neck bared. He imagined your pretty mouth pressed against his throat, sucking bruises into his pale skin and felt his cock twitch beneath the confines of his pants.

He was quick to strip off the rest of his clothes, not wanting anything in the way. The dry glide of his hand along his hardening length made him hiss. With clumsy impatience, he reached for the bottle of lube inside of his bedside table, almost empty from solo use, sitting beside a mostly-full box of condoms.

Immediately, the slick sounds of him working his length filled the room— desperate and messy with need. Maybe he could’ve been patient— taken it slower, but he was overcome with lust and a desire for release.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Feels so good— don’t stop, keep goin’ just like that.”

As the words mindlessly slipped past his lips, he knew he was well and truly gone. It was an entirely new level of desperate and horny to dirty talk to the girl you were hot for when she wasn’t even there.

His free hand was splayed across his chest, just resting against the thatch of chest hair where his heart was pounding just beneath his ribs. As his desperation grew, his hand wandered lower, fondling his balls as his other hand squeezed the base of his shaft. A desperate, feral noise escaped his mouth that he’d never even heard himself make before.

He closed his eyes and he could imagine you pulling him into a dressing room, a wanton look in your gaze as you pulled the thin curtain shut, the only semblance of privacy you could get. You’d smile as you stripped off your clothes, only clad in the skimpy lingerie you’d paid for with your employee discount.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet for me, okay?” You’d say as you pulled down his stupid Scoops uniform shorts. “Don’t want to get caught, right?”

He could feel sweat beading at the base of his neck and around his forehead, on his chest, tummy, and thighs. His entire body was burning up as he touched himself, like he was on fire from the inside out.

He’d waste no time kneeling before you— tugging your stockings and panties down and hiking up your skirt so he could slot himself between your legs and taste you. There were few things Steve loved more than eating pussy. There was something about the taste, smell, the sounds that he could elicit with a few deft movements of his tongue. You’d pull his hair and tilt your head back as moans escaped your lips.

He worked his length quickly as he imagined eating you out. His head was thrown back, tongue lolling out of his mouth as short pants escaped him. The slick sounds of lube and the slap of his hand at the base of his cock were pornographically loud. He’d have been embarrassed had he not had the house to himself.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “Wanna make you cum so bad. Wanna taste you.” He could only imagine the pretty sounds you’d make as you came, the way you’d tremble as your knees threatened to give out. He’d wait until you couldn’t take anymore before finally relenting, meeting you with a kiss.

Your hands would be soft. He knew this not just by looking at them, but also from the few times you’d put a hand on his arm when you passed by him in the service hallways. He liked thinking about your hands on him, squeezing him just the way he liked.

“You’re so big, Steve,” you’d say from your knees, peering up at him with big doll eyes. Your hand would glide along his cock— slow, teasing. Your tongue would dart out, kitten-licking his tip before you took him into his mouth entirely.

“Mmm, fuck— feels so good,” Steve cried out, his chest heaving as he continued to work his hand along his cock. “Doin’ so good, taking it all for me. Just like that.”

Steve felt himself nearing his finish and slowed down, practically to a snail's pace to keep from busting early. What was the point of having a sexual fantasy if you finished before getting to the best part?

He returned his attention to the image of you in his mind. How the drool at the corners of your mouth would drip messily, how your eyes would be wet and glossy as his cock bullied its way into your throat. Your free hand would move to cup his balls, heavy and full for you as you kneaded them in your palm.

He’d bring you up to him and give you a kiss for good measure— slow and messy like you had all the time in the world. But he’d get impatient, like he was then to just give in and make himself cum.

He’d press your back against the wall and lift your legs around his waist. You’d still be wet from his mouth, dripping with desire. You’d take him with no resistance at all, just a tight warmth like he belonged there.

He needed more. Just jerking off wasn’t cutting it. He reached out clumsily with his free hand and grabbed the gift-wrapped box from the bedside table and tore at the silky red ribbon so he could knock the top of the box off. He grabbed the white lace panties from within and groaned at the sight.

“Ah!” He got a full-body shiver the moment he wrapped the lace panties around his cock, the fabric soft against his flushed length. They wrap around the head as he sets a fast pace, imagining that they’re yours— the same pair you’d been wearing that day.

“Fuck,” he cried out, bucking up into his fist and the lace. “Holy shit, ‘m cumming. Fuck— fuck—“ He came with a shout, his spend soaking through the white lace, sticky on his hands and dripping down his shaft, pooling at the base.

His breath came in soft pants as he came down, his cock still twitching weakly, rivulets of cum dripping from the slit. “Goddamn,” was all he could manage as he laid limp against his pillows.

He’d made a mess, not just of himself, but of the lace panties he’d spent a day’s paycheck on. He grimaced at the sight of them, completely soiled from his exploits. With more effort than he even felt capable of, he sat up and tossed them into the hamper in the corner of his room.

Afterward, he looked down at himself— the mess of cum and lube left behind. He stood and stretched on slightly weak legs and went to wash off. He’d deal with the shame of it all tomorrow.

————

You were smiling at customers when he came in for his shift the next day, feeling sensitive from the second round he’d put himself through in the shower the previous night… and the quick session he’d had in the morning.

Part of him felt like a perv for thinking about you like that, but then you looked up, saw him, and smiled… and he felt the wariness wash away like it was nothing.

At lunch, he walked into the store, which was far less crowded than it had been the day prior. You saw him and approached with a casual confidence that made him want to crumble to his knees.

“Hi, Steve! Did Nancy like the gift you got her?”

His brow furrowed. “Nancy? We broke up last year.”

You laughed lightly and shook your head. “No, I meant your new girlfriend. The other Nancy.”

He swore internally as he nodded. “Right! Yes. She loved them, actually. She wants another pair.”

“Great, just meet me at the register when you’re done.” You smiled and departed. Steve couldn’t help but stare at your ass in that tight skirt as you walked away.

He grabbed two more pairs— black and red— and approached the counter where you stood. You rang him up without further comment and smiled as you passed the bag and receipt over.

“Come back soon, Steve,” you said with a grin before departing into the back of the store.

That night as Steve was unpacking the bag, he found a small note written on blank receipt paper.

“Steve, if you wanted to talk to me, you didn’t have to buy lingerie for a fake girlfriend to do it. XO” Beneath it, in clear print was your phone number circled twice.

Steve grinned, running his thumb over the note. Maybe his dry spell was going to end sooner than he thought.

#lazyghoulskinktober #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 4 months ago

Text

The Meet Cute - Ace's Story - 3

Source for pic

Firestarter 3

Word Count: 4300

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader, slight NSFW (It's mature, not explicit), slightly sugestive behaviour, flirting, jealousy, frenemies, sexual tension, miscommunication, unresolved tension, slight angst, slow-burn, romantic comedy vibes, alternate universe modern setting, swearing, drinking, fluff, feelings realisation, denial of feelings.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You intended to have some alone time, to reflect and heal, but your childhood friend's older brother, Ace, seems to be there just to upset that fragile peace you're striving for. He's a flirt and a womaniser. But why does he also have to be so handsome and perfect? And how long can you resist his charms?

Notes: Are you guys liking the story so far? I'm almost done writting it. It will be around 10 chapters, maybe 11. If you wish to be added to a tag list, say so! Thank you!

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“How was the run, bug?”

“Fine.” Grumbling, you drink a large glass of water and start biting down on an apple. “What do we need to do, today?”

Shanks sees your foul mood and deftly avoids it, enumerating all the menial tasks that need to be done. Not only on the property, but also in the house.

“Okay, I'll take the inside of the house, you get started outside. Fair?”

Shanks nods as he reaches for his straw hat.

“At lunch we'll discuss your surgery. I've given you enough time.” Your voice is stern and you almost sound like your mother. Shaking that thought away, you grab your supplies and get started. Cleaning the house has always allowed you time to think, and you're in desperate need of that.

The bathrooms aren't that dirty since it's really only the two of you in the house and, surprisingly, Shanks is pretty clean. So, as you scrub the shower, you start to think about Ace. He's the epitome of the boy next door. With all the repercussions of it and all the girls that come with him as well. And despite your mind telling you constantly that you should not be with him, you can't help your body from desiring him.

You even consider giving in to temptation and getting with him, just for fun, so you can finally get him out of your head. But that's just stupid. And counterproductive. So you scrap that thought.

But you still revisit that ‘friends’ idea. You have fun with him and you could use some fun in your life. You just need to stop thinking about him carnally. How hard can that be, really?

Just on cue, your phone buzzes and, after finishing the shower, you remove your gloves to read it.

Dinner? Friends have dinner together. You both need to eat. But you have to make sure that it's nothing romantic. He needs to understand that. Or that you're not just one of his usual girls. He needs to understand that as well. Yet you seem to be taking a while to answer, so he adds another thought.

You exchange a few more texts to get the hour and arrange to meet him since he's going to be there sometime in the afternoon. What should you wear? Well it's just a friendly hang. You don't need to wear anything special.

Maybe you should call Nami… but that is a double-edged sword. Do you want to involve Nami in this? You know she'll be all up in your business with incessant questions and… Groaning you dial Nami's number and set it on speaker as you use your nerves to tackle the toilet.

“Hi, girl!

“Hey, Nami, you busy?”

“Nope. It’s actually my day off, and Vivi managed to escape her City Hall duties earlier than expected, so we’re hanging.” You smile into the toilet. You had met Vivi over online calls but you had yet to meet the real thing. She is Nami's girlfriend and an angel for putting up with her fiery attitude.

“Send her my love. Can you help me?”

“What is it, sweetheart?

You sigh, but ultimately decide to treat this as if it was a band aid. Just rip it and scream after.

“Well, Ace invited me to hang with him at the firehouse so he doesn't spend his shift alone. Pizza and movies.” You ignore the high pitch squeal on the other side and are already regretting all of the life-choices that led to this moment, but you continue. “It's a ‘friends’ thing!” You emphasise. “I just need to know if you have any tips on what I should wear? For a friendly hang!” You need to reinforce that notion.

All credit where credit is due. Nami doesn't squeal anymore on the phone, though she can't quite disguise the amusement in her voice.

“Honey, can I come over after lunch? We can choose together.”

“Oh, no, no. I can't intrude on your time with Vivi!”

Nami giggles on the other side. “I'll bring her along! And some of my clothes too… Talk later, hun!”

Crap, you shouldn't have called Nami. She's going to bring the skimpiest clothes ever.

-*-

“That's too much, Nami!” You whine and kick the high heels away from you. “It's a friendly thing! I'm wearing sneakers! Help me out, Vivi.”

The blue-haired girl giggles and shows Nami an apologetic smile. “She wins, Nami. Simple is better in this case.”

“Fine!” Nami concedes with a pout and you sigh exasperatedly. You're tired of trying on clothes and you still need to take a bath. “But you're not passing out in thigh-high socks or shorts!” She squeaks. “I know that showing your thighs like that will drive him crazy.”

You roll your eyes at her as you set aside the chosen outfit. It's not that bad. You won, it's simple, yet cute. “I don't want to drive him crazy.”

“Sure, honey. And I don't want to earn money.”

“Unrelated.” You bite back.

“Still, both are untrue.” She winks as she gathers the skimpy outfits she brought while muttering that she'd make you wear them on another occasion. “What about your hair? We could-...”

“No, no! It's fine! I got it from here, Nami. Thank you so much for your help. Vivi, thank you for coming, your help was precious in handling Nami.”

She giggles and agrees. Both girls tell you to have fun tonight and Nami begs for a text with an update when you get home. Even if it's in the morning, and she double winks when you remain stoic at her joke. Before your bath, you go downstairs to accompany them and have a quick word with Shanks, who avoided surgery conversation at lunch like a professional.

You wave the girls goodbye and then saunter to the living room, where your father is watching some sports game on TV and scowl while clearing your throat.

“Oh, bug! The girls left? I thought you were going out for dinner?”

You blush slightly. “I am, just not with them.”

He mutes the TV to look at you with a raised brow. “Want to tell me who you're going with?” He raises his hand in the air. “Only if you want, baby, I know you're an adult now.”

“It’s just a friendly dinner. Ace wants to show me the firestation and we’re going to eat some pizza and watch some movies.” You seem to be finding it quite hard to hold your father’s stare.

“Ace?” His brows knit together but he nods. “Okay, be careful.”

Your head cocks to the side instinctively. “With what?”

“Just… it’s a dad thing, okay? Be careful!” He gets flustered and unmutes the TV but you’re still not done, so you position yourself in front of the screen on purpose.

“The surgery, dad.”

Closing his eyes, Shanks sighs and turns off the TV. “Okay, let’s talk.”

-*-

You’re blow drying your hair after a quick shower while humming to a song. The talk with your father went as well as expected. He refused the surgery and you probed him so hard with questions that you finally understood he is simply afraid of becoming even more impaired than he already is.

You assured him that everything would be alright and that the condition his back is in is going to leave him impaired anyway and, after some coaxing and perhaps a slight hint of coercion, you managed to convince him to schedule a time with Dr. Law so he can give you both a step-by-step of the surgery, to assuage any fears you have remaining.

You stare at the time and curse. You have about ten minutes to get ready and leave the house before you’re officially late. Finishing your hair, you apply very light makeup and then proceed to dress in the outfit that gave you a headache during the afternoon: jean shorts, thigh-high black socks, and a fitted black t-shirt with the most appropriate lettering for the occasion - ‘Firestarter’. You had almost doubled over laughing when you came across that shirt from your collection. You finish the look with your black and white sneakers and some bracelets.

One last look in the mirror makes you shrug your arms and sigh. “It’s a friend’s thing. Stop overthinking it!” You growl to yourself and leave with a hasty step.

“Bye, dad, see you later!” You hear him rushing to the door of the living room and stare at you, his arm under his chest as if he was crossing it with his missing arm. You blush and add. “There’s lunch leftovers in the fridge if you want. Bye.”

“Bug.” You stop with the door open and turn back with a soft smile. “You look great.”

“Thanks, dad!” Your smile widens and you step out. “I really have to go, love you!”

You hear a soft ‘love you too’ before you close the door behind you.

Luckily, your car - that’s now fixed thanks to Kid - doesn’t give you any trouble starting and you arrive at the fire station at the aforementioned time. Parking the car and taking a deep breath, you walk to the door and knock softly, phone already in hand in case he doesn’t hear you since the firestation is huge! It has three rolling garage doors for when the trucks need to exit and it looks old, its red bricks faded by the sun.

He must’ve been standing right on the other side of the door because it swings back and you are greeted by a smiling Ace.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

His smile falters as he sees you and you notice his eyes lingering on your exposed thighs. Nami was right. You want to giggle, but you remain composed.

“Hi Ace.” Your eyes also linger on his muscular chest. You're used to seeing him without a t-shirt so you’re not quite sure why that black, fitted shirt makes him even hotter.

“Wow.” He mutters. “You look… damn! Firestarter, indeed.” He chuckles nervously and you raise an eyebrow. Has the player run out of moves?

“Thanks.” You stand at the doorway awkwardly while he’s still hung up on how you look. It’s quite flattering, actually, and you are glad you took Nami’s advice. “Should we get inside?”

He gasps and moves away from the threshold. “Yes! Come in! I’ve already ordered the pizza, Deuce should be here any second now.” You nod and get inside while looking around. You enter some sort of reception area, so he leads you inside.

“This is the day room.” It’s a larger room with a big table, some chairs, a TV and a grey loveseat. “We’ll be watching a movie here.” He smirks as the doorbell rings. There’s a doorbell? You missed it. “Oh, it’s Deuce, I’ll be right back!”

“Wait, Ace! Let me give you some money for the pizza.”

“Are you kidding me?” He snorts. “No way.” Then he dashes through the reception room to get the pizza. You hear some sort of discussion but you can’t make out the words. You’re curious, but you don’t mean to pry since Ace acted as if he knew the pizza guy, so you entertain yourself by watching a case with old photos and trophies.

Until you hear a hushed, ‘no, Deuce! Oh, come on!’ and a rustle of feet approaching. You turn to the door to be met with a grinning tall man with blue spiky hair and carrying two boxes of large pizza.

He chuckles and settles the pizza on the table, his eyes never leaving you. “Hi.” His grin widens and Ace enters the room with a scowl.

“This is my idiot friend from school, Deuce. Deuce, this is…” He stammers and you take over.

“The idiot brother’s friend from school.” You tell him your name and extend your hand to shake it, but he smiles, takes your hand and places a kiss on the back, making you blush from the surprise.

“Delighted to meet you. You’re gorgeous.”

“Alright, okay, that’s enough. Bye, Deuce! Don’t you have more pizzas to deliver?” Ace grabs Deuce by the collar of his t-shirt and pulls him, making him let go of your hand.

“If you get tired of Ace, I’m great fun!” He replies, making you chuckle as Ace pulls him even harder. He’s halfway through the reception when you hear him exclaim: “You were right, Ace, this one is something!”

“Shut up, idiot!”

The smile vanishes from your face as you stare at your reflection in the trophy case. ‘This one’ he had said. As if it’s a regular thing for Ace to bring girls to the firestation. Cute girls, apparently. Girls he actually wants to kiss.

You sigh and shake your head as you hear his footsteps approach. No matter. You were only here for a movie and pizza. Nothing else.

“Sorry about him. Deuce is a good friend but he’s a dick sometimes.”

You smile as Ace grabs some paper plates from one of the drawers and opens one of the pizza boxes. “Soda or beer?”

“Soda’s fine.” You answer as he takes out two cans from the fridge. “What do you want to watch?”

Ace insists on watching a horror movie, thinking it might scare you, but turns out he’s the one doing most of the jumping. You eat three slices of pizza and Ace finishes the rest of the boxes. The man sure can eat.

Ace sits on the floor to eat the pizza, but as soon as you are both done, he climbs to the sofa, stretching as he does it to make it seem like his back hurts. You lean down, intent on removing your sneakers so you can get more comfortable on the couch when he gasps.

“What the hell is that on your arm?” He points and you eye him with a raised brow.

“What do you mean?”

“There!” He points again at your left forearm where there’s a big purplish bruise and you smile at him.

“Oh, this! It was from the other day. When I was almost hit by a car. It barely hurts.” You wave your hand dismissively but he grabs your arm to examine it closer and you clench your jaw. Why are his hands so hot?

“I did this?” He murmurs while his index finger ghosts over the bruise, creating a little trail of goosebumps.

“Well, yes, but, technically, you saved me so-...”

“I’m sorry.” He looks really apologetic, his eyes never leaving your bruised arm. The loveseat is pretty small so he’s really close to you and you can almost feel heat coming off of him. It’s not just his hand that is warm, it’s all of him. How is that possible?

“Ace, it’s okay. Really.”

He removes his eyes from the bruise and raises them to meet yours. You could close the distance between both of you with a mere blink, such is his proximity. His hands are still reaching and holding your arm, so he’s already leaning all over you and, once again, you feel some sort of magnetic pull. Some animalistic desire that makes you want to kiss him.

Your eyes dart down to his lips inadvertently, and your breathing accelerates.

Friends, friends, friends!

Your mind keeps screaming at you, but his smell is inebriating and you want to drown in it. You want to drown in him.

You’re just another girl. You’re just another girl.

He’s close, so close.

The horror movie on TV unleashes a jump scare with a loud sound and this time, for the first time during the whole movie, you jump and get up abruptly. “Bathroom. I need to use the bathroom.”

Ace takes a deep breath and scratches the back of his neck. “It’s that door over there.” He points and you nod. You don’t really need to use the bathroom. But you needed to get out of his hold. Quickly.

-*-

The mood returns to relaxed and normal when you return. You sit on the couch, having removed your sneakers, and sit with both legs bent to the side. Ace seems to find the seat small, so he stretches an arm over the back, behind you.

The oldest trick ever.

“So how come you still live with Mr. Garp?” You need to cut this sexual/romantic tension so, what better way to do it then by creating tension with his existing family member.

You sense the change in his demeanour but his eyes never leave the screen. “It… just never happened.”

“Luffy and Sabo left. Is your grandpa ill?”

“No.” You sense his discomfort with the situation so you don't probe anymore. If he wants, he'll tell you about it. Which he does, after a moment.

“I screw up a lot.” You turn to him. The seriousness in his tone conveys his real feelings and you hang on every word he's willing to give you. “I always have. I never had perfect grades, I just got by. I didn't go to college and I never joined the Marines like grandpa wanted.” He sighs and his gaze remains fixed on the TV though the ending credits have just started rolling. “I don't have any goals, I can't keep a steady relationship and, even if it looks like it, I don't have my life together. Grandpa doesn't believe I'm capable of great things. And it's true.”

Your eyes bore into his, but he doesn't turn to you. Swallowing a hard lump on your throat, you nod slowly. This man doesn't let his life move forward because he doesn't believe he is worthy of it. Garp had other plans for his grandson's life and, apparently, laid his frustrations upon Ace. Who now cannot escape this life on his own.

“But you are capable of great things, Ace.”

He scoffs. “How do you know? I've changed! And even so, we hardly even talked before you left.” He doesn't mean to be hurtful, but it's true.

“You're right. But here's how I remember you: A caring big brother who watched over Luffy when they got home from school and made sure he ate plenty of fruit with his snacks; A protective big brother, who caught Luffy with a broken lip and didn't rest until he found the bully and forced him to apologise; And even if it went against your aloof and bad boy persona, a loving brother who knew how to comfort and show love to a boy who needed it.”

His eyes finally turn to you. They're downcast, but you're sure he absorbed everything you said. Perhaps it is the beginning of a healing process for him. You can only hope so.

“Thanks. I… I needed that.” He still seems lost, so you hold his hand and entwine your fingers with his, giving him some slight pats on the back of the hand.

“Anytime you think you're not good enough or not capable… think of me, okay?” You grin and wink at him.

Finally there's a hint of a smile on his face and that manages to warm you up. It felt nice to speak with him without him trying to escape the conversation with funny remarks.

His thumb starts to trace gentle patterns on your hand. “I'm already thinking about you all day, what's the difference?” You want to believe him. His smile is genuine and you can almost perceive a small embarrassed look. But you can't really believe in him. The notches under his belt are too heavy to ignore.

“I'm sure that works with all the girls.” You scoff and point your head at the TV. “Movie's over. Can you show me around?” You let go of his hand and lean down to put on your sneakers.

“Yeah.” He replies dryly.

-*-

He's shown you the locker rooms, the comms room, the small bedroom with two bunk beds, for when they spend the night, and now you're both standing in front of the pole.

“Wanna do it?” He grins. “We need to get down so I can show you the truck. It's pretty cool…” He tempts you.

“I don't know…” You eye the thing suspiciously. Technically, it's not hard. It's just sliding down.

“I'll go first and I'll catch you if anything happens.” He assures you but you're still weary. “As much as I would love to catch you, I doubt you'll need it. You're so brave, courageous, strong-...”

“Eugh, stop that! Fine. I'll do it.” You giggle excitedly and he claps before grabbing the pole with both hands.

“It's not rocket science. You grab, and you go down.” His voice descends as he slides down and you chuckle. Your nerves are getting the best of you.

“Okay, okay, I got this.” You grab the pole with both hands. “Grab, and go down.” You do a little jump and squeal as you slide down. Ace is there to catch you but he was right, you don't need it. Though he still places his hands on your hips, just in case.

“You're a natural.” His breath kisses your eyelids as you look up to meet his gaze.

Magnets.

But you need to reverse the polarisation. You need to be repelling, not attracting.

“Thanks.” You whisper back.

Reverse the poles.

You walk away from him and act amazed at the huge space the trucks are in. It's a garage with firefighting equipment and two trucks and an ambulance. “It's huge!”

“Yeah I get that reaction a lot.” He chuckles and you can't avoid a snort.

“You're quite cocksure.”

“I sure am!” He keeps grinning and you laugh out loud. “Come inside.” Opening the door to one of the trucks, he, once again, sets his hands on your hips to help you up. Does he have a thing for hips? Because it sure seems like now you do! Everytime his strong hands grip you, you shudder and gasp at the feeling. It leaves you wanting more. How would his bare hands feel against your bare hips?

Friends, damnit! Friends!

Right. The truck! “So many buttons.”

He sits down in the driver seat and leans back. “Want to play the siren? It's quite fun!”

You look at him with half a smile, fairly tempted. “No, we shouldn't. We might give a heart attack to some senior citizens.” You grin.

He still shows you where the button for the siren is and what the other buttons do. But after a moment in companionable silence, it's his turn to ask you a difficult question.

“Why did you want to get married so young?”

It takes you by surprise as your face whips towards him, holding his gaze. He's serious again. “I… don't know, exactly…”

It's your turn to focus your eyes somewhere else and you choose your hands as you fidget with them.

“It seemed like it was the right thing to do. My mom married my dad after high school. So when Ichiji proposed, I thought I should do the same.” You snort. “Look how well that worked out. To my parents and to me!”

Ace rests his head against the headrest and crosses his arms behind it, making his taut muscles bend and flex and you regret having looked, so you return your stare to your hands. Your innocent hands.

Ace is very sinful.

“I think it did. Both ways, actually.”

“What?”

He turns his head your way, slightly. “Clearly your parents weren't made for each other. I remember hearing them fight all the way to my house.” You can't help but agree with that. Both your parents were a lot happier and more civil with one another, actually, once they separated. “And your ex, clearly, was not meant for you. I mean… It takes a special kind of dumbass to cheat on someone like you…”

You fight against your better instincts. You should know better than to be swayed by his words. He's a player. He's got moves. He's got the right words.

And they freaking work.

Because you are a mess right now. Your heart keeps fluttering against your chest with all the sweet things he's saying and you've been rubbing your thighs together since he grabbed you by the hips when you descended the pole.

Clearly you want him. You want him so badly.

But you can't! Because you were never a girl for casual relationships and Ace doesn't do serious! He said so himself. So you sigh, do a little more rubbing and try to focus on grounding yourself.

Off-limits. Off-limits.

“Thank you for tonight, Ace. It was fun. I should get going.” You move so you can leave but he sets his hand on your forearm.

“Are you leaving already? Did I do anything wrong?” Your stomach tightens and your chest aches.

“No, Ace. You did everything right.” Leaning in, you give him a quick peck on his face. Then you turn and jump out of the truck. “I just have to go. I need to help dad, tomorrow. It's late, I'm tired.”

And you need to get away from him.

He nods with a silly little smile on his lips. Your kiss helped make him realise he did nothing wrong.

“Okay, sure. I'll walk you out.”

And after you gather your things from the day room, he walks you to the front door and into your car. You keep thinking that a goodnight kiss would be very nice. But you already gave him a very innocent kiss on the cheek and that should be enough.

It's not.

So you say another goodbye and enter the car. Your heart feels both heavy and light. It's a weird dichotomy that leaves you wanting more. Ace is fun and easy. But he's not boyfriend material.

And you seem to have started to develop feelings for him.

And that is not okay.

#one piece #one piece x reader #op #x reader #ace x reader #ace x you #modern day au #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace #Spotify

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 month ago

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Hi Raven! Besterd fox maen is comin' XD

Onto the event! Since I know it'll happen, gonna beat everyone to it: Headcanons about Tsum!Fellow and possibly a Tsum!Giddle~?

Curiouser and Curiouser.

Fellow Honest

What’s this? A marketable (and sentient) plushie made in his own likeness? Of course Fellow’s going to nab his tsum self and try to auction it off for a quick buck! … But somehow, it always comes back to him and an angry customer comes with it, accusing him of scamming them.

Other scams Fellow and his tsum pull together include him distracting a target while the tsum fishes in their pockets for valuables, running a roadside show (come watch the tsum bounce and twirl its cane), and selling a spell that brings inanimate objects to life (pretending to demonstrate with the tsum). They walk away with a decent amount of cash for their efforts.

Tsum!Fellow has the smallest pair of glasses you ever did see. It doesn’t always wear them, but whenever it does you notice it is trying to read a teeny tiny book upside down and lecture.

Tsum!Fellow stares at its larger counterpart when he has food on him. Fellow will insist it’s HIS grub and that the tsum should get its own, but soon enough he caves and breaks off a small piece for his little buddy to enjoy with him.

Like Fellow, the tsum loves apples! If you give it a fresh fruit, it’ll zoom around it in circles, shaving away at the flesh until there’s nothing left but the core. (Epel has deemed it an apple-eatin’ termite.)

Normally the tsum is docile but it puffs up at anger when it’s looked down on (particularly by rich or influential people). When that happens, tsum!Fellow swells really big and proceeds to crush foes with its great size.

Tsum!Fellow knows how to make a quick getaway. When there’s someone chasing after it, it throws sand or dirt (or even confetti or glitter from under its hat) in their face before skedaddling. It’s not above using cheap tactics if it nets results!

Tsum!Fellow gets all sparkly-eyed when it sees a stage, whether it’s on TV or it’s a real one. It gets excited and tries to hop on to put on a performance of its own!

There’s something a little childish and carefree about tsum! Fellow. It loves hitching rides in pockets or on heads, treating them like their own amusement park rides. It also loves seating itself on toy traits, boats, and cares, imagining itself traveling the world and having grand adventures!

Tsum!Fellow is quick to cozy up to anyone it thinks will benefit it. For this reason, you’ll see it snuggling up to dorm leaders, the staff, the headmaster, even you! It nuzzles against your hand and makes puppy-dog eyes until you melt in its flimsy hands.

While Fellow mends his suit and pants, tsum!Fellow likes to dive in the fabric and swim around in it. It gets in the way of his work, so Fellow fishes the tsum out and appoints it the role of being his pincushion. (The tsum is very grumpy about this and they get into a whole squabble about it.)

Gidel

It’s rare to see tsum!Gidel by itself. It’s normally tagging along with tsum!Fellow as a minion or a helper in some of its tricks. If the two are ever separated, they’ll both appear slightly distressed and will try to seek the other out.

It’s curious about so many things. Tsum!Gidel bounces around in a hyperactive manner, making it quite difficult to contain. It displays a special interest in school, hopping among stacks of books and forgotten pencils, scaling them to see how high up it vanishes climb.

Gidel and his tsum self can communicate effectively, despite neither of them being able to speak. They’re great about reading body language and anticipating what’s to come next from the other. It’s almost like they’re finishing each other’s sandwiches sentences.

Tsum!Gidel is very clumsy. It’s a normal occurrence for it to fall onto its face or to roll and roll until it makes contact with something sturdy. It doesn’t quite have its footing down yet…

Of course, it comes with its own little hammer! The hammer seems light and makes a little squeaky sound when tsum!Gidel bonks the back of your hand with it.

When the tsum gets scared, it scurries into Gidel’s oversized sleeves. It won’t come back out again until it’s completely sure the danger has passed. (Occasionally you’ll see it poking its round little head out and checking the area.)

It attempts to tie Gidel’s laces for him since they’re tend to be loose. Unfortunately, the tsum ends up getting knotted in the laces and Gidel has to spend 20 minutes untangling the poor thing!

Gidel didn’t realize the tsum was sentient at first. He popped it into his mouth thinking it was a bread roll or a fancy marshmallow. The tsum had to squirm and fight for its life to escape the jaws of death!

They’re study buddies! Gidel and his tsum copy down letters of the alphabet together, then exchange notebooks and check each others’s work. It’s harder for Gidel to understand tie tsum (maybe on account of the notebook being so small), so he takes the mantle and tutors his new buddy.

Sometimes the tsum takes on a size closer to that of a stuffed plushie. In those instances, Gidel fiercely hugs them close. There’s a comforting sensation in owning an item for just pleasure, not solely for one’s survival—the life that Gidel is so used to.

Tsum!Gidel assumes a bigger form and allows Gidel to use it as a pillow at night. The boy had never been able to sleep on something this squishy and soft—is it really okay for him to fall asleep like this?

#twisted wonderland #twst #twste headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #Fellow Honest #Gidel #Gino #Ernesto Foulworth #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #curiouser and curious #a fellow in need is a friend indeed #twst tsumtsum #twisted wonderland tsumtsum #twst tsumtsumts #twisted wonderland tsumtsums

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readwritejayy · 2 months ago

Text

Dinner Date

(Read on AO3 here)

“Darling, is something wrong?” Emmrich was gazing at her with that sweet, worried look. “You don’t have to drink the wine if you don’t wish.”

“No, no it isn’t that,” Rook said, waving her hand. “I just…I didn’t know this was a date.”

Words: 1,103

Notes: throwing my hat in the ring of “writing fanfic for something that isn’t even out yet”. yes i’m also smitten by the gentleman necromancer and his skeleton companion.

Yes, obviously she felt bad for misunderstanding his request. In Rook’s defense, Emmrich had asked if he could “steal her away” for a night when the team wasn’t running left and right dealing with world-ending problems. And given Emmrich’s propensity for speaking so “proper” (which was evidently rubbing off on her a bit), that could have meant any number of things!

No it couldn’t.

Unfortunately she realized that too late, which was why Rook was currently seated in the kitchen of the Lighthouse in a full suit of armor, while Emmrich was dressed in a handsome white button-up, vest, and trousers. His usual coat was missing, but Rook wasn’t about to complain about seeing more of his slender yet poised form.

When she walked into the kitchen, expecting a quick conversation or something to do with Manfred, she was startled to find the kitchen had been transformed. The lamps were dimmed, the counters were lined with candles meticulously lit and arranged, and the little table now had a vase with a single embrium flower.

Emmrich stood beside one of the chairs, wringing his gloved hands together. When she had started to explain her attire, Emmrich just wore that lovesick smile on his face.

“Yes, you do look every bit as magnificent as you do when you’re wielding that axe and cleaving through darkspawn,” he’d sighed.

So Rook took her seat (after Emmrich had pulled out her chair for her, of course). Manfred walked over from his place in the corner. He wore a bow tie around his bony neck. As he walked, the two wine bottles nestled in his pelvic bone clinked together.

He pulled the two bottles out and waved them enticingly, tilting his head.

“Yes Manfred, thank you,” Emmrich replied. “White wine for myself, and a red for the lady?”

Rook shrugged and gave an apologetic look. “I’m not much of a wine drinker myself.”

“Then you could give it a try tonight,” he suggested. While he spoke, Manfred filled the glass Emmrich held, then the glass in front of Rook. “A nice red is a great place to start, but you’re welcome to a sip from my glass as well.”

The conversation flowed as easily as it always did in Emmrich’s presence. She hardly noticed when Manfred brought out their dinners—a pasta dish Rook was certain she wouldn’t be able to pronounce but would probably sound delightful coming from Emmrich’s lips.

It was lovely. And Rook couldn’t help but feel like she’d somehow tricked Emmrich into thinking she was the kind of person that was “wined and dined”. Yes she’d made a mistake in showing up in full armor, but even if she hadn’t misunderstood, it wasn’t like she had anything fancier to wear. The alternative was the casual clothes she wore under her armor with blood and sweat stains that still didn’t come out.

“Darling, is something wrong?” Emmrich was gazing at her with that sweet, worried look. “You don’t have to drink the wine if you don’t wish.”

“No, no it isn’t that,” Rook said, waving her hand. “I just…I didn’t know this was a date.”

His brow raised. Emmrich set down his fork and wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin.

“My dear, I deeply apologize for the misunderstanding,” he explained. “I should have been more clear. You must think me a horrible cad. I can walk you back if you’d like to go…or perhaps you wouldn’t like that—“

“No I didn’t mean…that isn’t what I…” Rook sighed. She rubbed her face with her hands; everything she said always came out sounding boorish next to Emmrich. With a clumsy hand, she gestured to her attire. “I was trying to explain, that’s why I showed up in full armor. I mean, not that I have anything better.”

“Ah.” Emmrich visibly relaxed and resumed eating. “You hardly need to explain yourself to me. I certainly wasn’t going to complain.”

“But you went to all this work! You lit all these candles, you decorated, you made dinner—“

Bones rattled angrily in a dark corner of the kitchen.

“Ah, sorry,” Emmrich said, holding up a hand. “Manfred made the dinner. I ran out of time while I was lighting all the candles. And…I’m not the best cook, though it shames me to admit.”

A breath of laughter escaped her lips.

“You put in a lot of effort,” she continued. “And I haven’t had that before. And I showed up in the same rusty armor I wear for days at a time. And I don’t know how to show you that I’m entirely out of my element but I really appreciate all of this.”

Rook drew in a long breath after her ramble.

“And I like you. A lot.”

Emmrich’s face lit up, his expression rivaling his excitement when they stumbled onto the ruins of a catacomb weeks prior.

“I admit I’m happy to simply be graced with your company. Perhaps I also…quite enjoy the sight of you in that armor,” he said. “But if I could dare ask for more, I’d rather like to walk you to home.”

After dinner, he did just that; he took her hand on his arm and walked her the whole fifteen feet to the door of her room. They stood in front of the closed door silently for a few moments. Rook shuffled from foot to foot.

“You know, you could come in if you like,” she offered. Then she made a face. “I guess coffee is back in the kitchen…I don’t know, it seemed like the thing people say after a date.”

Emmrich chuckled. “I’m afraid I have to decline; it would be improper after a first date.”

“Even if a lady offers? You’re nothing if not a gentleman,” Rook replied, grinning. “Very well. Could I at least give you a kiss?”

Before he could reply, Rook leaned over and pressed a kiss to Emmrich’s cheek. His face visibly flushed.

From the doorway of the kitchen came the sound of bones knocking together as Manfred clapped happily.

“Manfred, please,” Emmrich groaned. He turned his focus back to Rook, taking her hand and kissing her bruised knuckles. “Good night, my dear.”

She watched Emmrich walk away, Manfred ambling on behind him. She still wasn’t sure how she’d caught the attention of the handsome necromancer, nor how she’d managed to hold his attention long enough to convince him she had something worthwhile to give in return. But if he still liked her after tonight, she certainly wouldn’t argue.

She’d just…double check next time he invited her to dinner.

#emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #dragon age the veilguard #datv #fanfic #jayy writes

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us3rnam3-r3dact3d · 5 months ago

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Inspired by the latest Reductive Audio:

Lil useless facts about my fav boys/listeners. No hate if I didn’t include your fave, I was making my list off memory and am just now realizing I missed like… three entirely series worth of people.

Vincent

He prefers silver jewelry over gold, but doesn’t care if styles are meant for men or women. He likes what he likes and will wear it. He’s a particular fan of dainty necklaces and women’s wrist watches, but likes men’s rings better.

Sam

He smoked when he was human. Lucky Stripes, since they’re cheap. It was a bad habit he picked up when he was eight or so to cope with his home life. He lost the ability to be chemically addicted to nicotine when he was turned, but he still itches for a cigarette when he’s particularly stressed.

Alexis

She’s very jealous of Will’s attention. She gets twitchy when he’s paying attention to anybody else for too long. This results in spikes of her reckless and bad behavior. It started when Vincent was turned, then when he took in Porter, then when she turned Sam. The most recent was after the Inversion.

William

He cannot paint or draw to save his life. He’s followed five or six Bob Ross paintings, but they never turn out right. He can draw stick figures, but that’s about it. His penmanship is beautiful, though.

Porter

Will made him testify against his maker since Porter’s treatment was particularly brutal amongst Felix’s progeny. Porter didn’t want to, but he recounted every moment of Felix’s torture while being stared down by the man himself in front of the whole council. It was so damming that Felix invoked him to stop. That’s the moment that Porter still has nightmares about.

Lovely

Lovely is incredibly anxious around their human friends. They’re scared that they’ll lose control and hurt someone, even though they’re very well fed and haven’t shown any lack of control in the past. This results in a few months after the inversion that Freelancer thought they were dead, since they showed up on the casualty list.

Treasure

Their older brother is a humanborn freelancer. He’s an enforcer for the Department. They think that fits him well, since he was always sort of a bully growing up. Treasure themself is an investigative journalist who writes for an empowered newspaper. They were trying to get a table at the Monarchal Summit even before they met Porter, but that didn’t pan out.

Freddy

He played french horn in high school. He was pretty good, and was drum major in marching band his senior year. He threw up before every game because he was so nervous.

Bright Eyes

Singer/song writer. Y’all ever listened to the Mountain Goats??? That’s their shit. Slow moving acoustic guitar, songs about the most disturbing and distressing emotions humans are capable of surviving recorded on cassette. Singing at dead coffee shop open mics in the wee hours of the morning. Their voice is raspy and rough, but the texture just draws you into their even timber and perfect pitch. They’re a minor celebrity in Dahlia’s sad boy live music scene.

David

His hips and back hurt So Much all of the time. He figures out that it’s because he’s incredibly strong but not flexible in the slightest. An imbalance in those two factors can lead to a lot of pain. He starts doing yoga after the Inversion when it got really bad and it’s helped a ton. Plus, Angel does it with him, and he likes watching them bend into all of those poses in their tiny, skin tight shorts.

Asher

He keeps track of how much David weighs and makes sure he can comfortably lift and carry that much weight at the drop of a hat. At the end of every work out, he deadlifts David’s weight to make sure he can do it when already spent. He should have been carrying David after the Inversion, but he didn’t have the strength to do it even when not fucked up. He won’t let that happen again.

Milo

He needs reading glasses but refuses to wear them. He tried contacts but he can’t stand to put anything in his eye. So he just squints and struggles through. His phone’s text is blown up like a grandpa’s. David is so bothered that Milo won’t just… get glasses. He keeps passive aggressively offering to add Milo to their vision insurance plan.

Christian

He had a little crush on Asher in middle school that translated to teasing the shit out of him. Which, Asher being Asher, put him off and hurt his feelings. He’s well moved on but sometimes, when the sun catches Ash just right or he smiles that stupid, toothy smile, Christian mourns his own stupidity.

Arden

Desperately protective of Christian, especially after the Inversion. The first time Ash makes a light-hearted joke about Christian’s limp, Arden put his ass on the ground, despite Christian laughing at it.

Gabe

He drove a white Chevy Cameo with a red interior for most of his life. It was lovingly maintained, and since it’s such a rare model, he did all of the maintenance himself. After the crash, the truck was totaled. David still spent a few years trying to put it back together. He called it quits when he was working on the interior and found dried blood under the leather of the seats.

Angel

They have a small stuffed lamb that they’ve had since they were a baby. It’s beaten up, falling apart, and no longer the stark white it started out as. Lambie is kept in their bottom bedside drawer. They only pull him out when they can’t sleep. They were worried David would think it was weird, but he actually finds this more endearing than he can put into words.

Babe

They didn’t start talking until they were three. Their parents thought that they were nonverbal, and had started teaching them ASL as an alternative. Then one day at the breakfast table, they opened their mouth and started spouting full sentences. They taught Asher ASL and the two of them use it when they want a private moment in public/when Ash is overstimulated. (Side note; David also knows ASL, he took courses in high school. Very useful, he loves it. He does not love it when watching them flirt nastily in front of him.)

Sweetheart

They’ve had anxiety since they were a very young child, and it’s always been an internally-sourced thing rather than externally motivated. They recall the first time they ever got in trouble at school (first grade, for pushing a boy who had been tugging on their hair all through recess). They remember the first time they got a B (fifth grade, on a math test they studied for for hours). Their parents had high expectations, but Sweetheart was having panic attacks from the age of three. Definitely something ~chemical~ going on there.

Darlin

They feel pack bonds incredibly strongly. Their body reacts physically when someone in the pack is threatened or hurt, without them even having to think. They shiver when Sam calls them ‘mate.’ When David says something in his lovingly dubbed ‘alpha voice,’ they can’t help but listen. They knew Gabe was dead before they got the call. They thought Ash was dead during the Inversion because they felt David’s dread through the bond so strongly.

Avior

He’s unnerved by human’s tactile nature. Being in a body is strange for him, and he prefers Aria to Elegy (at least before meeting Starlight), so touch is an extreme sensation for him. Humans touch so much. He’s not opposed to it when it’s someone he knows, but handshakes are the bane of his existence.

Starlight

Halloween is their favorite holiday. They start decorating for it in August. They plan elaborate, complex costumes and parties. They desperately want to move into a house so that they can set up scary decorations and shit in their yard and hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. Avid lover of the Spirit Halloween animatronics. They go to Halloween Horror Nights every year.

Camelopardalis

He’s trained himself to use the human terms for things (ex: terra or earth instead of elegy) since some in the Department don’t like it when daemons use their terms. It means that he gets weird looks from other daemons when he talks to them. It’s an alienating feeling for sure.

Vega

He’s never tried human food. He never saw the appeal. What he doesn’t know is that he would absolutely Love dark chocolate if he tried it. He likely will never know.

Warden

Avid reader of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle comics. Just the comics, though. They don’t have an apartment in Elegy, but they do have a small storage unit where they keep their comics. They coalesced a few years before the comics starting their run, and for some reason, they just fell in love. Vega thinks this is silly and that they should be embarrassed, but they refuse to be.

Hush

He loves Popeye’s fried chicken sandwiches. Doc fed him one once and it blew his fucking mind. He won’t make them with magic, either, he insists that they don’t taste the same. Doc has started just getting gift cards for him to keep so he can get one whenever and doesn’t have to wait for them to give him money. He’s ravenous for those things.

Doc

They’re actually a warder, not a healer. Hush’s presence has encouraged them to refresh their healing knowledge, however. Even if he himself is difficult to hurt, he sort of invites chaos.

Morgan

He uses his foresight to see what the owner of his favorite little bodega down the street is going to have for breakfast every morning. It’s his little morning ritual and practice for his magic. He feels weird all day if he doesn’t do it.

Seer listener

Their sight is more potent and more clear than Morgan’s. They can give stark details, see full landscapes, and turn 360 deg in their vision and see the whole space. They also can hear what’s happening consistently, something that goes in and out for Morgan. He figures that they’re just more powerful than he is, something that makes them just the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Damien

Gets incredibly stressed on election days, whether for local, state, or national elections. He forces everyone he knows to vote, volunteers to shuttle people without cars, and has at times volunteered to be a poll worker. But elections make him anxious. He cares so much about the results. Huxley has recently instated a post 9pm ban on watching the news on election nights so that Dames will actually sleep and not stay up all night stressing.

Huxley

Does not eat beef. Not for religious reasons, but because of the impact of beef consumption on the environment. He’s about one step away from a full vegetarian, he just likes chicken and is concerned for his protein and vitamin intake. This is difficult for Damien, who loves nothing quite so much as a rare steak.

Lasko

He was forced to take piano lessons as a child. He hated it, but took them up to the point he left home. He’s still very good, and did get peer pressured into showing off at a random guitar center once while out with the D.A.M.N. crew. He nearly died of embarrassment.

Gavin

He has a collection of very pretty rosaries that he uses as jewelry. He is not religious, and if asked, cannot describe what a Catholic is to you. He likes to wear them around his neck, dipping over his body since his shirts always cut down to his navel. It makes people gasp and blush, which is his favorite effect to have on somebody. His fav one has beads made of mother of pearl and a little, golden crucifix on the end.

Freelancer

They love cheap Chinese buffets. They claim that, the lower the health rating, the better the taste. Their desire for krab rangoons is strong enough to pull them from the comfort of their home at 2 in the morning if the fancy strikes. Damien in particular is horrified by this, and keeps offering to cook them some actual Chinese food.

Dear (Lasko’s listener)

An all star volleyball player in high school and college. They were a setter, and took their team to nationals all four years of high school. They are on the starting line up all through college. When it gets brought up in their trip that Damien plays casually, they said they did too. And then absolutely creamed him.

#redacted asmr #my redacted content #redacted sam #redacted vincent #redacted asher #redacted angel #redacted damien #redacted david #redacted huxley #redacted damn #redacted morgan #redacted

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starsurface · 9 months ago

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hello! i wanted to send this in before requests end up closing... can i ask for mk1 raiden, johnny, and liu kang with a regressor who always steals one of their accessories? like what do you mean that's liu kang's headband? that's MINE!! 🔮 (also thank you for doing the windwolf nightmare hc's.. they were sweet <33)

Hiiii!!! This idea sounded so cute, I adored it. Also I'm so glad you liked the Windwolf Nightmare Hcs!!! :D <3 <3

Also, personal note, I don't like closing request, so they'll most likely never get closed. It just might take a bit of time to get to said request. I personally love receiving request and I enjoy doing them!! <3 <3 <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Raiden w/ Regressor That Steals His Stuff Hcs

🌩 His hat/amulet

🌩 Raiden almost always hat his hat on, rarely have you ever seen him without it

🌩 So when he set it down to make food, he was slightly concerned to where it went off to

🌩 And where you were

🌩 He was just making sandwiches!! He had propped you up to watch some cartoons for a few minutes (per your request) where did you both go???

🌩 Luckily, he heard your quiet giggling

🌩He walked to the bedroom, seeing you standing in front of the mirror, or sitting right in front of it

🌩 You giggle, showing Raiden his hat on your head

🌩 And his amulet in your hands

🌩 He quickly scampers over and takes his amulet from you, that’s a no no, you can’t touch that

🌩 No matter how fussing you do, your not getting it

🌩You could get hurt, and he doesn’t want you to accidently zap yourself (he put it on an even higher shelf than before)

🌩 His hat on the otherhand? Completely fine

🌩 Although you should ask before snatching it next time 🙄

🌩 If you make grabby hands towards his hand, he’ll plop it on your head, coeing about how cute you look <3

🌩 You look adorable!!! How could he not squeeze your cheeks and nuzzle your noses together?

🌩 Sometimes when you ‘annoy him’ (you could never really annoy him) he’ll push his hat down on your face so you can’t see >:(

🌩 Raiden learns very quickly that he can’t take away HIS hat away from you

🌩 Why? Because you get veeeeeeery fussy when Dada tries to take ‘his’ hat back

🌩 You claim that his hat is yours now, and he just laughs and shakes his head (but won’t deny it)

🌩 You can’t chew on it though, thats a no no (he uses it very often and would prefer no bite marks)

🌩 He is very thankful that you wanna steal Dada’s hat and not Lao’s hat <3 (he’ll have the same heart attack that he had when he found you with his amulet)

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Johnny Cage w/ Regressor That Steals His Stuff Hcs

⭐️ His sunglasses

⭐️ Has a million and one sunglasses, and changes them out frequently

⭐️ Which ones do you like? Every. Single. One.

⭐️ How do you steal said sunglasse? Easy!! Snatch them off his face!! :D

⭐️ He doesn’t do anything but raise his eyebrow and chuckle, claiming that if you wanted to look like Daddy, you could have asked

⭐️ Johnny, however, thinks he has a solution

⭐️ He’ll buy you your own pair of sunglasses!! :D

⭐️ Obviously that’s what you want, right? Because you snatch them so often?

⭐️ . . . no, you wanted Daddy’s sunglasses, not your own sunglasses >:(

⭐️ For a small while, Johnny didn’t get why you got so upset when he redirected you to your own sunglasses and not his

⭐️ Or, until you push your sunglasses far far away (and hide them under a stuffie) and make grabby hands towards his own

⭐️ After that he’s pretty chill with you taking his glasses

⭐️But you can’t chew on them >:( (they’re super expensive)

⭐️ And he’s rather put them on your face

⭐️ ^ Not that he doesn’t trust you to handle them . . . But he’s not trusting some kid not to smudge his glasses 🙄

⭐️ He’ll call you a Mini Superstar, because you look so cool!! :O

⭐️ He thinks it’s cute when you wear his glasses, and will take pictures (with consent) of how adorabley cute you look <3

⭐️ Johnny loves dressing his baby up cutely, no matter your age, and will style it with whatever glasses you stole of his (my favorite are the star shaped ones)

⭐️ If your bigger and like to play pretend, he’ll act like an adoring fan and you can be a movie star, or something similar

⭐️ If your smaller, he’ll swing you around and gush about how cute you look in his glasses

⭐️Will get the pair he bought for you and wear them himself, claiming that nowyou both look super cool now

⭐️ ^ And your matching!!! How cool is that?

⭐️ . . . Until you snatch these ones away because now Daddy has two sunglasses and they both need to be yours

⭐️ Although he finds it highly entertaining that you have sunglasses on your face and top of your head <3

⭐️ If you claim that the sunglasses are his, he’ll act all dramatic about it, but finds it really cute about how you like his things

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Liu Kang w/ Regressor That Steals His Stuff Hcs

🌟 His headband

🌟 Liu Kang never takes his headband off, unless he’s taking a shower or going to sleep

🌟 So you’ve gotta be super duper stealthy if you wanna try and steal if

🌟 How? By pulling on it when he’s turned around!! :D

🌟^ If you regress bigger, maybe you made a better stealthy plan, but Liu Kang still catches you :\

🌟He’ll ask you what you think your doing, hands on the hip and everything, although there’s a smile on his face

🌟 He gets slightly confused when you request for his headband, because he rarely ever takes it off (and it completes his outfit . . .)

🌟 He lets you try it on once and that was his downfall

🌟 Now you constantly want to wear it!! Tugging at it whenever you want to, or just flat out (politely) demanding for it

🌟 Or it feels like demanding, why doesn’t he get a say on the matter? 😮‍💨

🌟 Rolls his eyes when you tell him that it’s now your headband, and will debate you that no, it is in fact not

🌟 ^ This debate is highly entertaining for whoever hears it, because he’s either arguing against your babbles, or the claim of ‘But I want it’, ‘But it’s your and I want it’, ‘But I wanna have it’

🌟 He never wins the argument unfortunally, always loosing and letting you wear it

🌟 He brought up once about getting you your own and you pouted so hard he started laughing

🌟You don’t want your own, thank you, you want Dada’s headband >:\

🌟But he does find it really cute when you wear it, you look adorable!! Like a miniture Dada :D

🌟 He finds it really funny when he ‘accidently’ places his headband on the table, and it ‘magically’ appears on your head

🌟 You don’t know how that happened, must have teleported :\

🌟 If your younger and can’t tie his headband on, he’ll happily help you (although finds it funny when you fuss and accidentally cover your eyes)

🌟 If your bigger, or can tie a knot, he’ll praise you for your good work, and smoother you in kisses, even if you whine and fuss over it

🌟 . . . However if he does misplaced his headband, your getting blamed first, so unfair 😮‍💨

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

. . . I might have forgotten that Liu Kang has an actual headband and not a piece of cloth he ties on his head . . . It's fine. <3

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cripplecharacters · 5 months ago

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Hello!! I’m a fic writer and have had the idea of giving one of the characters I’m writing for prosopagnosia. Within the canon, he mistakes the protagonist for someone he used to know (the protagonist is unable to correct him) and doesn’t realize his mistake until much later on, where he then comments that the two aren’t actually similar at all, in reference to their personalities. He’s also known to refer to people with notable visual traits, at least in the online circles I’ve run in.

I have a couple smaller questions in regards to how I should proceed:

Is it reasonable for him not to have been aware that the way he perceives faces is different?

Would it be incorrect to have him identify others by facial features? Not in the sense of “the one with the short nose” or anything, but “this one has red eyes” and “that one has a scar”. Something easily picked out on the face. Would those be identifiable traits at all?

My fic isn’t meant to have much of an overarching plot, and it’s just supposed to be funny/slice of life. This character is important though and will be a consistent presence. What jokes might my characters make, what jokes should I avoid making, and what jokes is the character going to hear the most and get sick of real quick?

Thank you for your ask! Whether or not he realizes he can’t recognize faces depends on both his character and the severity of his prosopagnosia, as it can range from difficulty differentiating faces to being unable to distinguish faces from objects. From the experience of myself and most people I know with prosopagnosia he’d probably just assume he’s bad with faces and not think any deeper than that, but it isn’t a universal experience.

It's also fine if he recognizes people by unique facial features! Despite not being able to picture someone's face he could try to remember key aspects of someone’s face like a prominent mole or a crooked nose, though I agree something like ‘short nose’ is too vague. The more unique and prominent, the easier he’ll have remembering it (to clarify when I say ‘remembering’ I mean remembering that they have that feature, not being able to picture it). He can also try recognizing people by clothes they always wear or unique hairstyles, though it can get confusing if someone decides to change their hair or he meets a stranger with the same hat as his one friend. The easiest way for me to recognize someone is by their voice or calling their name and waiting for them to respond.

Have a nice day!

Mod Rot

Hi!

Usually I identify people by hairstyle or specific articles of clothing, although unique traits like a scar or red eyes would certainly help as confirmation! (Of course, personality as well--but speaking about visual traits, this is what I look for.)

I hate when people change their hairstyles, it makes them totally unrecognizable for a while. Often I can figure out who someone is a few minutes into a conversation, maybe shorter for people I know really well, but changes to big recognizable features throw me off. (Don't ask how many times I've been in conversations with people and had No Idea who I was talking to...)

So yes, it's realistic to go off facial features, although non-face features may be more common as an identifier. It's also realistic to mistake someone for another person entirely. I often think people look alike and they just are similar heights with similar hairstyles to non-face-blind people.

Joke-wise, I make fun of myself for not recognizing people. It's embarrassing, sure, but in hindsight it makes a good story. I don't like being teased about it, it makes me feel bad or inadequate that I can't recognize people. But when I do it? Funny story!

Mod Rock

Hello,

As someone with a similar condition (I've always heard it referred to as face blindness,) I use a few different things to recognize people;

Glasses. A lot of people I know have unique glasses and I use those to recognize them. I know this person because they have blue, red, and gold glitter in their glasses, and I know this person because she has electric teal wire-frame glasses.

Hair. This only works when people have an unusual hair colour or style. If someone has one side of their head buzzed, I recognize them by that. If someone has very long red hair, I recognize them by that.

I also look at distinct facial features. I know someone who wears red contacts and I recognize them by that. Something like a scar or very distinct facial features can help me recognize someone.

Voices. I'm not excellent at recognizing voice but I can recognize a distinct vocal quirk, like a Louisiana accent.

Context is also important. The biggest thing I struggle with is recognizing people out of their usual context. I struggle to recognize most of my old classmates outside of high school and school-related functions like graduation ceremonies. If I see an old classmate or even a family member in the drive-thru, it's hard to recognize them unless they have something distinct about them or I know them really well (such as if they were in my friend group.)

And then there are little things I pick up on that help me recognize people I wouldn't otherwise recognize. I work in a drive-thru so I can recognize a lot of people by their orders or by the cars they drive. I can recognize a few people based on their names when they order on the mobile app- if they order and don't use the app, it takes me a minute. I can recognize most of the regulars because they usually know my name and make conversation.

And yes, like you mentioned, personalities.

I didn't know I struggled to perceive and recognize faces for a very long time, I thought everyone was the same way. If it had never been pointed out to me, I probably still wouldn't know that I need to do things differently. It's not something that's easy to notice without outside help telling you that no, actually, most people can recognize people they know or even people they've met a few times.

So yes, he sounds very realistic based on my experience. He sounds like he has it pretty severely. And, by the way, the same situation happens to me all the time. And it's extremely embarrassing when it happens.

I make a lot of "I barely recognized you!" jokes with people who know I have face blindness. They aren't extremely funny but it's my way of saying "You've changed something about your appearance" or "Wow, it's been a long time!" I don't know of many face blindness jokes either, it's not something we often have the opportunity to joke about. If he draws people, he might make a joke about "Yeah, this probably isn't the best career" or "I know, don't quit my day job." Or he could do something kind of like Toph Beifong and react to someone else's art with "Don't worry, I think it looks exactly like the person." Maybe if they're looking for someone and he points out a random person like "Hey, there they are!" only for the group to realize he's messing with them?

Maybe you could repurpose some blind jokes and make them about "I can't recognize people" instead of about "I can't see"?

Mod Aaron

#mod rot #mod aaron #mod rock #prosopagnosia representation #face blindness #writing reference #writing advice #anonymous

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