#not quite sure about my recent choices

[gothamcityneedsme]

ok. i read tom king's mister miracle run and tbh? i don't think i vibed with it. but it DOES read interestingly as a proto-strange adventures though.

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and the YJ

So, Marvel in the YJ. He’s one of their den mothers and all that. So like, in this AU, and in fact in all of my posts so far, Billy’s kept it under wraps that he’s a kid. So, as a result, the YJ think he’s just this really cool big brother (dad (they just don’t know it)) type of dude. Like he’s so nice. And he’s so nice to them especially. Like, he treats all of them the same way he treats adults. He doesn’t doubt their abilities, and when they fail, he’s still there to encourage them to get back up and he doesn’t even make them feel bad about it.

Like, the one time he was asked to spar with the YJ cause they wanted to for funsies I guess, he positively whooped their asses and somehow, someway found a way to still compliment their abilities, even if they didn’t last that long because the battle was a little one-sided. To be fair though, they had asked him not to go easy, which he didn’t. In the end, he got promptly scolded by Canary heavily when she found out he quite literally used Kid Flash as a rag doll and threw him at Aqualad. She said that the entire tape of him having a “friendly spar” with those kids, was essentially just him bullying them. To which Billy tried to defend himself by saying those kids were plenty capable. The defense didn’t work.

Then, there was this time Kon mentioned he couldn’t fly and Marvel offered him a lift. This somehow ended up with Marvel sort of T posing mid air as Kon and Robin hung on one arm, Artemis and Aqualad hung on the other arm, then Kid Flash held onto one leg while M’gann held onto the other.

Flash: “Wow.” *looking up at the YJ and Marvel* “That’s… actually kinda majestic, not gonna lie.”

Superman: *also looking up at Marvel and the YJ* “Is it though? What if one of them falls?”

Flash: “Eh. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Kid Flash proceeds to almost slip off and fall, which almost gives both the speedster and Kryptonian a heart attack. Thankfully, he catches himself by moving his feet really fast to boost himself back up. Worst part in their opinion is that Marvel didn’t even seem to notice.

Then, there was the time M’gann with Robin about something. Batman was also working nearby on a computer.

M’gann: “Hmm… We need advice.”

Robin!Tim: “We need an adult.”

Batman: *keeping an ear out cause he’s always happy to help one of his kids*

M’gann and Robin!Tim: *thinking before they speak up at the same time* “Marvel.” *they then both walk out of the room to find the Captain*

Batman: *a little upset that Tim did didn’t come to him for help but also a lot more concerned as to why they thought Marvel was a suitable choice to ask for advice, especially considering the fact that just earlier that day, he had caught the man scribbling on one of the meeting tables like a 5th grader scribbling on their desk*

Contrary to what Bruce thought might happen (I.e. something going wrong) apparently Marvel’s advice wasn’t too bad, seeing nothing had gone wrong yet. (He later found out that the two had asked for the best advice on how to incapacitate your enemy quickly. He found this out when he saw Tim throat punch a man. Said man went down almost immediately. When prodded for information for as to why he did that, he proudly proclaimed “Cap taught me”)

Also a little tidbit from the Marvel Cursing post about the YJ thinking that Marvel called one of them a dumb cunt. Courtesy to @helps-the-writing-brain-go

Billy’s recently noticed that the kids are acting funny. Though, he supposes it’s not a bad funny. If anything, whatever’s got them acting weird has got them doing better on missions, but still. It’s weird. What’s weirder is that whenever he compliments them, they shine twice as brighter than they normally do. What’s even weirder than that is that whenever they’ve messed up recently they look twice as nervous. Speaking of which, this was one of the moments they’ve messed up.

Marvel: “So… Uh- that didn’t go so well.”

YJ: *obvious signs of anxiousness on some and subtle on others*

Marvel: “But that’s okay! But that’s okay.” *trying his best to make the anxiety in them disappear* “We just have to try to be better next time. Like, and I hate to say this, maybe try calling in an adult next time? Like me? I could’ve zoomed over and helped you guys.”

YJ: *look at each other*

Artemis: “Wally’s the one who said that we shouldn’t call you in a try to do this on our own.”

Kid Flash: *dramatic gasp* “You know why I said that! It would’ve helped us all if Kaldur had tried to put the fires near the gas tanks out with his water powers!”

Aqualad: “I was busy being attacked by nearly five different people.”

YJ: *dissolve into arguing*

Marvel: “Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wally what did you mean by it would’ve helped you all? Me not being there would’ve been good?” *confused*

YJ: *immediate silence*

Kon: “Wally found out that you think one of us is dumb cunt.”

Kid Flash: “Dude! You guys need to stop ratting me out!”

Marvel: “What.” *stares in befuddlement*

M’gann: “And then he told us. So we’ve been trying to think of ways to not be uh… dumb cunts.”

Marvel: *blinks rapidly* “Again, what? Wally, where did you get this information from?”

Kid Flash: “When you were making cookies! I heard you say blah blah blah, what a dumb cunt.”

Marvel: *still staring in confusion*

Kid Flash: “Then, when I asked what you were talking about, Mary said you were talking about our performance on missions.”

Marvel: “…Okay. I’m going to be completely honest with you. I don’t remember a thing of what you’re talking about.”

Marvel then goes on to make a speech about how they’re wonderful heroes who shouldn’t let one person’s words guide them, especially in risky situations like a mission. He then told them that he was now going to stress bake and make some Minnesota cool whip, jello, fruit, not really salad, salad. (Courtesy to @jedipirateking) On the bright side though, the speech did leave the teens feeling better.

[pokeberry5]

the classic body builder physique jiménez gives dick is SO funny to me because it makes him look so female love interest coded, complete with unreasonable hour glass figure and booty-out poses

like ok i'm gonna start with a comparison between how he draws dick vs how he draws selina

there's that same!! exaggerated curve at the waist

the rest under the cut bc this is gonna be long—i'm pulling mostly from batman (2016) #137-138 (i've been keeping up with gotham war lmao)

he gives them the same sort of broad shoulders that taper down into a tiny waist

FURTHER, this is technically where dick's pecs are in comparison to selina's curves:

HOWEVER something about the way jiménez draws dick's lats also creates a curve lower down his torso that mimics the shape of selina's tits:

this exaggerated tiny waist is even more striking in comparison to how he draws other male characters

like don't get me wrong, he definitely favors a broad shoulder to slimmer waist sort of build, but never to the extent he goes with dick

take bruce and tim from the same chapters:

their shoulder to waist to hip ration is a lot more equal, they've got much more of an rectangular build, the curve in at the waist/hips is gentle

and i swear jiménez chooses poses to exaggerate dick's tiny waist (not quite booty-out poses but the same sort of vibe)

like????

SIR??????

this sort of twisted side pose to show off the tiny waist is extremely reminiscent of the contorted poses comic artists put female love interests in

take this side by side comparison with a panel from nightwing (1995) #1 (i read it recently so it was on my mind):

there's even!!! the drawn back arm highlighting that inward curve!!

AND THEN

the booty out poses!!!

rip his back honestly

like i'm pretty sure the design choice was actually to emphasize he broad shoulders and show off his nightwing symbol, but imo all it does is makes his waist look tiny

tldr: strong female character dick grayson ig

Ok as thanks for getting to the end, gratuitous batcooch:

and a tiny dick sketch

[juletheghoul]

primus

a/n: Something a little different, I am obsessed with General Marcus and the idea of him becoming a gladiator. Hope you enjoy this other world I want to live in lol, no beta and barely proofread!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, body / breast worship-Marcus gives it so right🤤, hand-stuff - female rec'g, taking of virginity, (reader is a slave so there is a power imbalance but so is Marcus), gladiatorial violence, nothing graphic- let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 3.4k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

--

The crowd roars loud enough to deafen, the sound of it like a great wave threatening to wash you out to sea but it's nothing new, you’re used to it. The house you serve, have served since birth, has done well for itself in recent years, all thanks to one Gladiator.

Marcus Acacius, the champion of the house of Romulus. 

You’d seen him come in years ago and although you had been little more than a child, even then you could see what he had been reduced to, disgraced and defeated and practically at death's door. He had fought though, Gods knew he had fought. And just as you grew and flowered into a woman, he honed his skills anew, won matches throughout the city and had transformed from the disgraced General of Rome, to a true champion of the people. 

You could see it even now, watching him make quick work of the paltry opponents sent to fight him in the arena. He swatted them away like troublesome flies, and the crowd loved him for it. The cup was held out to you, just as the man in the sand raised his sword. 

“He really is of a form.” One of the hosts of the games remarked about the man fighting below, and your Domina smiled proudly. 

“My husband has taken him and honed him, I dare say none in Rome are his equal.” 

“We shall have to see about that.” The guest chuckled, not quite convinced but your Dominus laughed, unperturbed and unconvinced.

“My wife speaks truth, my Ludus has shaped him into a God of the arena.” 

They continued their friendly bickering, while you watched the man below, you couldn’t deny his allure despite being more than a few years older than you. He looked up to the pulvanis and saluted to his Dominus, to his Domina, and for a heartbeat it felt as though his eyes locked with yours. 

Lightning struck in your belly, the intensity of his gaze, even so briefly made your heart race. Ghostly fingers squeezed at your heart when the opponents fell on him, cornering him until he was surrounded. Attention locked on him despite your station, the laughs and doubts of his victory wreathing through the guests you served turned your stomach.

Deaths in the arena were a guarantee, that was to be sure. Every time your Dominus secured spots for his gladiators in the games it was expected that not all would return, this felt different though. He had to survive, why, you could not be sure.

“Aha! There we are. The legend of him is proved. He is victorious, and my wife’s words are true, as always.” Your Dominus smiles, kissing his wife’s hand as the doubters grumble about luck and ill-trained opponents. 

The words flow over you, the only thing that draws your attention is the man standing below you, victorious and whole.

–

“The good wine, fetch it for me girl.” The sun shines through the balcony as your Dominus congratulates the gladiators who returned to the villa victorious. His wife, your Domina, sends you for the wine while he speaks at length of their virtues, stoking the fire of survival and vanity in them.

In truth the games hold no interest for you, never had you particularly enjoyed watching men fight to the death, it was a waste and had you the choice, you would never attend another.

They cheer louder than before when you return with the heavy jug, narrowly avoiding dropping it when he turns and catches your eye once more. Marcus has been invited out of the ludus below, and up into the main house. 

He is much bigger than you expect. Tall and broad enough to intimidate anyone but the most surprising thing are his eyes, they are the softest thing about him.

“I would reward you, for your victory, for the honour and wealth you have brought to this house. Name your desire and I shall see it done.” 

You pour for your Domina, ears straining to hear his voice.

“You honour me Dominus.” It’s so rich, deep and full of smoke. Your main focus is on not spilling the wine.

“I confess, I have felt a desire of late.” Your ears perk up, eyes following suit and when they meet his, they’re already set upon your face.

“You want her?” Your Dominus looks to you now as well, and you feel like a piece upon someone else’s board, to be moved around at their will.

“Only if she desires me as well.” He bows his head, and despite the tiny bloom of gratitude in your chest, your Dominus laughs.

“If she is what you desire, take her. The guards will lead you to the private quarters below and you may keep her there until the morning. I will have wine and a meal brought for the both of you.” Your Dominus waves a hand and it is done. Your virtue has been gifted to a Gladiator. 

Your Domina frowns, but says nothing. She merely watches as you are led away, to spend the night with the former General of Rome.

-

The quarters are indeed private, but meagre. A lumpy bed, a small table with two chairs, an even smaller table with a large basin full of fresh water and clean linen, and a window. The door closes and your heart jumps into your throat.

“Shall I disrobe and lay on the bed?” You reach for the hem of the tunic, silently praying that he would not be too rough. The prudent thing to do, is to get it over with. 

“No, wait-“ his hand engulfed yours, stopping you from reaching down and pulling off the fabric that hides your nakedness from him.

“I would speak a while, come.” He gestures to the table and you frown.

“Do you not desire my virtue? Is that not why you asked for me?” 

“Yes, well, in truth I desire your company, as well as your body. I have noticed you of late, you have grown into a beautiful woman and I find my thoughts drifting to you often. Of your voice and of your touch. I dream about you.”

Your eyes widen, shocked into silence by his confession.

“I would have you enjoy our coupling, rather than simply enduring it.” His eyes dart away from your form when the guards bring a platter laden with food and drink, and when he gestures again, you finally sit.

He takes his time cleansing himself of the grit and grime of the arena, scrubbing away until a handsome, lined face appears underneath. Once clean, and armor free he sits with you, and urges you to eat.

It is a silent, slightly tense meal. Your fraying nerves had you mostly picking at the fruit and cured meats. The flutter in your belly kept you from overfilling it. 

“How long have you served in this house?” His eyes are bright, curious.

“All my life. I was born in this house.” Your fingers fiddle with the edge of your tunic. 

“Are you treated well?”

“I mostly tend to the Domina, she is very kind.” Your eyes drift to the bed, and the bottom of your belly falls again to imagine what he’ll ask of you once his own belly is full. 

“You spoke of your virtue, you are as of yet untouched?” His voice lowers, almost apologetic. 

“Yes. Well, untouched by anyone, except myself. There have been covert kisses here and there, friendly ones with others of my station.” He says nothing, but his gaze travels the expanse of your body. The slide of them is heavy from your breasts down to the slit in your tunic. His food sits forgotten on the small plate in front of him, and now there is hunger of a different kind on his handsome face. 

“Do you find me desirable?” He leans back in his chair, broad and golden from the sun. Heat blooms in your chest, filling the corners of you. 

“You are kind upon the eyes, I will not lie.” He smiles at this, and the heat spreads to the place between your legs, the place he will fill soon and a shudder travels along your spine.

“Have you enjoyed my victories in the arena?” 

“I confess, I do not favour the games. Watching men kill each other holds no interest for me.” He laughs, surprised yet delighted. 

“And yet you live and serve in a ludus, watching gladiators come and go your whole life.” 

“The Gods have their reasons, I do not presume to question my place.” You shrug, unable to stop the corners of your lips from pulling up into a shy smile. 

“Perhaps it is I who is blessed to end up here, in your company.” He muses and for a moment you cannot face his direct stare. “Come, lovely one. Let us to bed.” He rises, holding out his hand for you, It engulfs yours when you accept and join him. 

Butterflies swarm as he guides you to the edge of the bed, the fine hairs all over your arms and legs standing on end when those rough, calloused palms skate softly over the curve of your shoulders. His breath fans over your face as he reaches the bottom of your tunic, pulling it up and off. The urge to bring your arms up over your breasts, to reach down and cup your sex makes your hands shake. 

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” His hands settle on your hips, squeezing at the flesh for a moment before removing his own layers. The sight of him, naked as you, with his heavy sex hardening before your eyes makes you shiver, part nervous, part exhilarated. 

When he lays you down, you part your thighs to make space for him, once again praying the pain won’t be unbearable. The confusion paints your face in a frown as he lays beside you, and not directly on you. 

“I would have you wet for me before I slip inside.” His tone, his words send another shiver down your spine before he presses his mouth to yours. 

You have kissed before, a soft press of your lips to another, the barest taste of their tongue between rebellious giggles in the dark. Marcus’ kiss is nothing like that. He pulls you close, turning your body to press it to his, the stiff peaks of your breasts meeting the solid wall of his chest as his tongue slips past your open mouth and tangles with your own. For a moment, it is a little awkward but he guides you, pulling away before pressing forward again, leading you in his rhythm. 

Your heart races, a curious excitement pooling low in your gut, in the yet untouched place between your thighs. You press them together while he claims your mouth. 

When he pulls away, his breath comes out in pants and his sex presses hot and heavy against your belly. 

“Lay on your back my sweet.” He kisses your shoulder, and you obey. Now, you think, now he will shove that thing inside me and rip me in half. You swallow thickly at the thought, it is so much thicker now, too big, surely. 

He presses kisses to your shoulder, trailing them down to your arm, then the side of your breast before he pulls your nipple into his mouth. The steady suck of his mouth at the hardened peak forms a direct line to your cunt, the ache in it pulling a whimper from your mouth and a huff of self-satisfied laughter from him. Your skin is shiny with his spit when he lets it go. 

“Does that feel good?” His hand holds the plump of your breast, tongue flicking against the peak while you nod, mouth-open in a silent stare. “What do you feel?” He sucks at it again, harder this time and a gasp leaves your mouth. 

“I feel, hot. Warm all over, and an ache–” You pull in a sharp breath when his teeth pull teasingly at the bud. He soothes with his tongue, pink-cheeked and focused. 

“Where do you ache?” He lets go, smoothing his palm in the valley between before holding the other one, and worshiping it just the same. 

“I ache–oh, I ache–” It’s hard to focus when he sucks at the other nipple, your thighs pressing together without your permission. He stops, eyes flitting about your face.

“Where do you ache, tell me.” 

“I ache here.” He follows your hand as it cups your cunt, the soft, fine hair there soaked in arousal like you have never known. He groans to see it, and then his hand pushes yours away, slipping between your thighs to pull them apart. He leans on his elbow, muscles glinting in the soft candle light as his fingers spread open the lips of your sex, exposing your dark pink insides to his gaze. 

“Your pretty little cunt is so much better than I dreamed, spread your legs for me my sweet, I would work her open to take my cock.” Your heart races, your cunt clenches and then his fingers find the crux of you. They swirl slowly around the pert, sensitive pearl of your clit. Your mouth drops open in a silent ‘O’ at the way he manipulates you. 

“So wet already.” He lowers his head, lips wrapping around a nipple again as he keeps his slow, maddening circuit. Your hands grip the threadbare linen beneath you, whole body clenching as he shoves you closer and closer to a shattering climax with his slow, delicious circles. 

“Doesn’t that feel good? Doesn’t that feel so good, my sweet?” He presses his lips to your neck, whispering into your ear and you nod, frantically, clenching around nothing while the edges of everything blur with the threat of pleasure. Around, and around, and around he swirls, consistent, devastating until you can almost taste it. 

Your mouth forms a steady chant of yes, yes, yes, as he continues his gentle exploration between your legs, fat pearly drops of his own arousal slipping against your hip but he is in no hurry. 

The ache intensifies, the slick pools at the mouth of your cunt, and it's with a final, wet swirl that your climax washes over you. Your legs clamp shut around his hand, your body folds in on itself with the strength of it but it does not stop him, two thick fingers spear into your fluttering entrance, stretching and drawing out the pleasure of it while you gasp into his kiss. 

“Gods above.” You whisper to yourself as the blood pounds in your ears, the warmth of his skin, the slick, rhythmic sound of his fingers working away between your legs stoking the fire once more. 

“I could spill just watching you.” He pulls his fingers out, dripping in your lust and shoves them into his mouth. “Sweet as summer wine.” He licks them clean, vulgar and sweet all at once. 

Again he reaches between your legs, slipping his fingers inside once more but with his thumb swirling around the crux of you. 

He brings you to climax again, more intense with his fingers inside, petting at a divine spot you’ve never touched, and again, he doesn’t stop. He repeats his movements, his tongue flicking at your nipple, or licking into your mouth, until it’s too much and you push his hand away. 

“Please, no more–I cannot.” You gasp for breath, skin shiny with sweat, the spot beneath you wet where your arousal has dripped down and soaked through the linen. 

He laughs softly, proud and cocky at how many times he made you fall apart under his hand. 

“If you would let me, I would do that for days.” He presses another kiss to your shoulder before moving up and settling between your thighs. The nervous flutter intensifies as his cock slips between the mess he’s made of your sex. 

“I think you are open enough to take me now, I will try to go slow.” He kneels back on his haunches, lifting one leg up to hold. His fingers curl around the top of your knee, your calf resting on his shoulder as he grips his cock in the other hand.

Your belly trembles, part embarrassed, part excited to be so exposed to his gaze. The blunt end of it slides through your swollen folds, coated in your slick before he notches it and it’s with a slight burn that he slips it in. Inch by inch he presses forward, molding you to accept him, shaping you to fit him like a glove. 

“Gods above.” He curses low as he bottoms out, so deep you feel him in your lungs. 

Your hands ache from how tightly they grip at the fabric beneath you. 

With a shuddering breath he holds himself still, allowing you a moment to get used to the intrusion of him, only a moment. 

A sharp thrust pulls a gasp from your lips. His grip on your leg tightens, the other hand slides up and holds onto your hip, steadying you to accept the snapping of his hips. 

The flex in his arms, the strong, firm muscles of his thighs pressed up against yours, the sheen of sweat glinting on his face and on his chest, all of it only makes it better, his beauty and his obvious desire for you serve to make you leak around him. You can feel it, dripping down your ass to add to the damp spot beneath you, it collects at the base of him too, drenching the curls there.

Your pants, his heavy breathing, and the vulgar sound of his skin slapping against yours is the song of your coupling. The burn is replaced with a pleasant feeling of fullness. It is not as good as his fingers at your clit but his obvious pleasure adds to your own. 

“I’m going to come, going to fuck it deep inside of you.” Sweat drips down his nose and the vision of him, so like when he’s in the arena might push you closer to another climax. 

“Here it comes–” He presses your legs up, opening them wider, folding you in half while he fucks into you hard enough to make the bed shake. With a low groan, and a thrust deep enough to hurt, he swells impossibly thicker for a moment before emptying himself inside you. 

He shudders, grinding himself deeper as you wince, milking himself inside your body before pulling out and falling onto the bed beside you. 

You catch your breath for a moment. Surprised, and grateful that despite there being the edge of violence to his taking you, it wasn’t the brutal, awful experience you were afraid it would be. Considering your station in life, it was quite nice. 

“Give me a little while, and I will be ready to take you again.” He turns and presses his lips to your shoulder again. 

“Again…? You wish to take me again?” There is clear confusion threaded through your voice, but he laughs, goodnaturedly. 

“Oh yes, I have you for this one night, I plan on taking advantage. Did you not enjoy it?” He rests on his elbow, head held in his palm while his other hand skates over your skin, raising goosebumps in its wake as it palms one breast, then the other. 

“I enjoyed your fingers, you brought me to climax more than I ever have on my own in a single night.” You curl onto your side towards him, soaking up the warmth of his skin. 

“But you did not enjoy my cock?” His hand lands on your hip, holding you there and it’s curiously exciting how much skin he can touch at once. 

“It was… a lot.” He laughs, nodding for you to continue. “I liked the fullness of it, but you were very deep. I could feel you in my belly and when you spilled it was intense.” He lets out a groan before pressing forward and stealing another kiss. 

“It will feel better, we have to find which position you like best. Which angle you enjoy more.” He pulls you closer, tilting your chin up for another kiss, softer this time. 

“What position do you enjoy most of all?” Your hands gravitate to his chest, pressing against it to feel his heart thumping against your palm. 

“I am partial to being ridden.” He smiles, lip caught between teeth and heat floods your body to know he is imagining it. 

“Why do you favour it?” 

“Because I like when a woman takes her pleasure from me, It pleases me, to please her.” You could see it then, his soft eyes staring up in devotion as some faceless woman rides his cock. The longer you think on it, the more that faceless woman starts to resemble you. 

“I would have you like that next.” He smiles, and you smile back, nodding. 

By the time the sun rises, he has taken you every way you can imagine and your sex is so sore you don’t think you’ll be able to walk without wincing. 

When the guards come to take you both back to your respective places, they have to physically pull him away from you, his lips pressed against yours in a goodbye kiss. 

“You are the only prize I will ever ask for.” He calls over his shoulder as you smile at him.

For the first time in your life, you are excited about the next games.

-

Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name

[thelostconsultant]

Instant dad - part 1

pairing: Oscar Piastri x ex!reader

summary: You have no choice but to tell Oscar he has a five years old son. Now he wants to be a part of his life to make things complicated...

note: Oscar is in his early 30s, so yeah, there's a time jump.

[pilot]

A bit over a week later Oscar was sitting in his rented car in the school’s parking lot, thinking about how this conversation could go. According to you, they were aware of the fact he had not known Oliver existed until recently, so he hoped they didn’t expect him to talk about what he was like. Sure, over the past week he asked you about him, he wanted to prepare for meeting him, but they hadn’t met in person. How could he know what to say? After taking a deep breath, he got out and went inside, feeling more nervous than he did when he was getting in the car before a race.

If he was this nervous now, what would he feel like before meeting his son? 

Spending years in a boarding school prepared him for this meeting, and the principal was everything he imagined him to be. He was polite, not making a fuss over the fact he was–let’s say–famous. He even apologized for the mess he caused, saying he understood it was probably quite a shock for him, but this was the protocol, and they couldn’t make an exception. Oscar kept nodding, even assuring him it was okay, although deep down he was still confused and unsure of things. 

All of this despite his conversation with his mother, who had been overjoyed when she saw a video of Oliver, saying he was truly just like him, and she couldn’t wait to have the chance to meet her grandchild in person. But she also told him maybe this was the best thing that could happen to him. Having a child is truly an experience, and since he was still five, they had the chance to have a wonderful relationship. “You say he loves F1. Just imagine how happy he would be if he could go to some race weekends with you. You could teach him so much about racing, and you could bond over that,” she said. 

After he parked in front of your house in the afternoon, Oscar went to the trunk to get everything he brought with himself. From signed merch from both himself and Lando–just to be sure–to toy racing cars, he had a wide variety of gifts. Something will hopefully become a favorite, an item that he would keep close to himself. Maybe he went overboard, maybe he could’ve brought only one thing, but he had no idea what Oliver liked, so he couldn’t pick just one item. 

“Please, don’t tell me you brought all this for him.”

He looked up with a questioning hum, only to find you standing next to him on the sidewalk. Seeing you again brought back memories of your time together, of all of your little adventures during the short time you spent together, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you fled because you found out you were pregnant. If you didn’t leave him so suddenly, would things be different now? Would you be a big happy family? 

Clearing his throat, he flashed a sheepish smile at you. “I couldn’t choose,” he admitted as he grabbed the duffel bag and followed you to the front door. He couldn’t help but wonder what he could expect, and he had to ask you the most important thing. “Did you tell him that he was meeting his father today?” You nodded. That was good. “Is he excited?”

You bit on your lower lip as you watched him, clearly thinking about how to answer the question. But after a short break, you let out a sigh. “He’s a little confused, I think. My boyfriend, Alejandro, met him when he was only two, the three of us spent a lot of time together, and he moved in last year. Oliver… He assumed my boyfriend was his dad, which in a way he is, but we had to sit him down and explain the situation to him,” you said, looking sad all of a sudden. 

It was clear now why you were so against telling Oliver the truth. You wanted him to be close to your boyfriend, and you were probably afraid things between them would change once he got into the picture. Maybe you were even afraid things between you and your boyfriend would change too. He couldn’t blame you for that, but now that he knew he had a son, Oscar wanted to be a part of his life. He didn’t want to be some asshole who ignored his own blood. 

Once inside, he put the bag on the floor and followed you to the living room where Oliver was watching some cartoon on TV. Now that he saw him in person, he felt warmth spread through his body, because this kid looked exactly like he did at his age. You cleared your throat next to him to get your son’s attention, and when the kid noticed him, his eyes grew wide from surprise. He got off the couch and slowly walked over to them, his eyes never leaving his face as he tried to process who their guest was. 

“Hello, Oliver,” Oscar said as he crouched down. 

“You’re Oscar Piastri!” he yelled excitedly. 

Oscar couldn’t help but chuckle at this. “I am.”

You reached out to ruffle your son’s hair, then leaned down to be on somewhat eye level with him. “Honey, remember when I said your daddy was going to jump in to see you?” The little boy nodded. “It’s Oscar. He’s your dad,” you told him softly.

Suddenly the excitement was replaced by disbelief, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of you as he tried to process what he’d just been told. The corners of Oscar’s lips curled into a smile as he watched him, waiting patiently for the child’s decision. 

“So he’s my dad?” Oliver asked, earning a nod from you. “Does this mean I’m a Piastri?” It was Oscar’s turn to nod. “Mom, why am I not called Piastri?”

His eyes moved over to you just in time to see you gulp, clearly having trouble figuring out what to say to that. He couldn’t blame you for your confusion, it probably hadn’t occurred to you that one day you would have to respond to this question. With a kind smile, he put a hand on your arm, then turned to his son. “Because I’ve been away for a little too long. But I’m here, your mom and I can discuss if we could change that if you want,” he finished, barely daring to glance up at you, expecting to meet an angry look in your eyes.

But you didn’t look angry, if anything, you seemed relieved that he came to your rescue. There was a glint in your eyes, though, that told him you weren’t happy that Oliver brought up his surname. As he thought about it, it occurred to him that you had mentioned how you considered your boyfriend to be his father in a way, so maybe you would have rather given him his name. 

You placed a soft kiss on your son’s head, then informed him that you would leave the two of them alone so they could get to know each other. Father and son watched you leave the room, then he turned back to the child with a smile. “I brought you some things. Wanna see them?” he asked him, and when the little boy nodded, he went to grab his bag. 

As he opened the zipper, Oliver stood by his side, watching his every move with a happy smile on his face. Oscar pulled out the gifts, one by one, and couldn’t hold back his laugh as he watched his son proudly wearing his new baseball cap and shirt as he examined the toy car in his small hands. He began to talk about the last race, excitedly recounting the most memorable moments, including the end when his father crossed the finish line first. His big brown eyes turned to him, then he said that he was so happy he was here. 

When he wrapped his short arms around him, Oscar did the same and even pressed a kiss on the kid’s head. There was undeniably a certain connection between them that he couldn't explain, but they both knew it was there, otherwise his son probably wouldn't be this chill with the idea of being alone with a stranger. Okay, that and the fact he was his favorite driver.

They sat down in the middle of the living room, and Oliver decided to talk about his favorite books, proudly telling his father that he knew how to read, and that according to you and your boyfriend he was really good at it. “The other kids can barely read yet,” he said with a smug smile, “and I'm already learning math!”

“Do you know how to play chess?” Oscar asked him, but the boy only shook his head. “I should teach you. I started when I was younger than you, and my mom refused to play with me after a while.”

“Because you were so good?” 

With a shrug, he stretched his arms above his head. “I don't know, but I guess I was better than her. Not sure about other people, though,” he admitted with a warm smile.

Oliver let out a thoughtful hum. “Is she as awesome as my mom?” he suddenly asked, looking back at him. 

A laugh escaped him at the thought, which made his son tilt his head to the side in question. “That depends on who you ask. She loves to embarrass me online, which isn't always a good thing, but I love her, she's the best mum I could ask for. And there are a lot of people, especially my fans, who absolutely adore her for this gentle bullying,” he added with a laugh.

“My mom would never do that,” Oliver stated, his little nose scrunching at the thought. “She loves me too much.”

The two of them spent the next hour or so talking, sometimes stopping when the little boy got distracted by something he caught on TV. But he seemed interested, he wanted to learn as much as he could, and it was true the other way around, because Oscar asked a lot of questions too. He hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed until you walked in to tell your son it was time for dinner, a statement that came with the question whether or not his dad was allowed to stay. 

You didn’t let him stay, saying he was probably tired from traveling so much, then gave him a begging look to make him speak up too. Oscar let out a sigh and forced a smile on his face. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be back tomorrow. I’m staying for a few days and your mum let me come to see you every day,” he said happily. “In fact, I’ll be looking out for you tomorrow while she’s at work. How does that sound?”

Oliver squealed from happiness before he hugged you both, thanking you over and over again for letting him come over. “Can we go to the zoo?” he asked with bright eyes as he looked over at his father. 

“Sure, whatever you want,” Oscar responded with a nod. 

“Okay, time to wash your hands, Alejandro will be home soon, so we can start to eat,” you asked your son. Once he said goodbye to Oscar and disappeared, you turned to him with a forced smile. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

With a sigh, he stepped closer to you. “You were right, he’s a lot like me,” he began quietly, then stopped to consider what to say. He knew deep down that you wanted him to stay away, you didn’t want him to ruin the balance of your little family, but how could he give you that after getting to know his son? Oliver was his blood, he was truly a mini version of him, there was no way he would turn his back on him now. 

You knew. After all these years, despite your time together being so short, you still knew him well enough to know what was going on in his head. “Just don’t break his heart, okay?” you asked, earning a nod from him. “Thanks for… everything. Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow. Have a good night.”

tagged: @hc-dutch @nxlx96 @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @laanswife @chunkpiboli @pakotrzl @1800-love-me

important: the taglist is closed. in fact, this might be the first and last time i'm doing this, because leaving someone out accidentally stresses me. sorry.

Anyway, what do you think? Should I continue?

[miirohs]

sugarcoated

pairing: Mob Boss!Baby Daddy!Lando Norris x Fem!Reader wc: 2.7k cw: violence (implied but not against the reader), emotional manipulation, reader is highkey tweaking, Norris is a touchy ass, slight yandere undertones, this aint healthy an: i keep forgetting my irls have my blog lowkey ive been scared of posting bc of my parents. also hey ladies whats up im back out of my flop era! miss me miss me now you gotta kiss me!

He was always lingering somewhere, no matter where you went.

It was like no matter where you ran, he would always find you. Quite frankly, you were sure that was half the appeal to him, he was a powerful man and he spared no expense in letting you know. 

Sometimes, it was the little flowers he left on your doorstep in pristine condition, small notes in semi legible handwriting tied to the stems. Other times, it was the faint smell of his perfume that lingered as he’d find himself in front of your door at odd hours of night, begging you to let him in, as if he’d been dying at the steps of your door.

And like a fool, you finally cracked, you did let him in. You were charmed, though there was no doubt it made you uneasy, he’d pacified you with his dazzling promises to take care of you, so what could’ve been the harm?

You didn’t see him again after that night. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for weeks afterwards, then the games started as soon as you moved.

You’d run, he’d show up, you’d run again. 

It was a cycle. There was no leaving the city anymore either, his forces scattered across every crook and nanny of the city. You’d sealed your own fate with just one hospital visit, deliverance of the exact news you’d prayed to not get as you sat with a test in your hands, two pink lines string back at you. 

You had no idea how you even made it home that night.

It was in your best interest not to move anymore, but you weren’t even sure how to move forward. Your wallet wasn’t entirely drained, but you were. Any chance of moving away was immediately stomped out, leaving you with no choice but to firm up against him and his sugar coated words.

It wasn’t long before he found out, and when he did, he made sure you knew. You couldn’t tell for your life how he felt though.

At first, it was minor things, baby items you didn’t recall ordering appearing at your door. You chalked it up to clerical error, but something nagged at you as you inspected them. Then, more expensive items started to appear, everything a new mother could dream of, but it made you uneasy.

Sometimes he’d come along with one of these gifts, standing outside the door as you peered at him through the eyehole. You never answered, with the hope that he'd leave you alone, hoping to dissuade him from anything further.

Then the biggest shock came along, sitting across from you on the counter, as if it’d been there the whole time. You had no time to question, let alone think about it upon seeing the small note attached to the box. 

I hope you’ll love the gift exactly how I did when I saw it, xoxo.

You knew exactly what a diamond ring implied. Yet, you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around why he would’ve sent it. The last thing he would’ve done was tie himself to you after trying so long to avoid you.

It’d been four days since the ring had appeared there, and you were simply hoping it was a fluke, no sign of him to back the ever present thought of the intrusion. 

You sat at the dining table, poking around your half-assed salad as you stared at the box. You could’ve sold it off, but there was no doubt someone would’ve found out and reported it back to him, leaving you to bear the brunt of his anger at your outright refusal. He’d never hurt you, but you saw everything in his actions.

The thought was more than enough to throw you off your meal, pushing away the plate with a pained sigh. Eating wasn’t the only thing that’d become harder in recent months, as working had left you with barely any time for yourself.

You were almost ready to doze off right there and then, had it not been for the series of sharp raps on the door, earning a grumble from you as you dragged yourself to the door with a mind full of insults to hurl at the person.

It hadn’t occurred to you to check who it was as you sleepily fiddled knob, only saved by the grace of the chain lock you’d forgotten to unlock.

“Hey there.”

Your blood froze, hazel eyes staring down through the crack of the door. There he was again, the devil himself, at your doorsteps as if he’d been waiting for you for a long time.

“Lando?” it came out as more of a whisper than anything else, voice cracking from a lack of proper use.

“It’s nice to see you too sweetheart,” He laughed, tilting his head at you to meet your eyes through the wide crack. 

There was a look in his eyes, although you couldn’t entirely decide if it was predatory or not as you averted your eyes, looking down at the handle of the door.

“What’s going on in there? Are you working late again? Though the doctor said it wasn’t good for you to be up this late with the baby on the way.”

You didn’t respond, trying to shut the door as subtly as you good, hitting something between the doorframe. Jitters ran down your spine when the door wouldn’t move further, looking down to see what it was. 

He’d wedged his shoe in between, the bastard. You looked back up, swallowing as he narrowed his eyes, the smile slipping off his face for moments to reveal thinly masked displeasure before disappearing entirely.

He knew what you were trying to do. You didn’t know if the guilt building up in your chest, or the possibility of what he could’ve done, scared you more. He’d never explicitly laid a hand on you, but the amount of torture was already enough as he lingered in your space.

“Someone has to keep the lights on,” You muttered, letting him nudge the door open. You were already fighting a losing battle, there was no way to keep him away but to hold him at an arm's length. That was how he’d gotten in the first time. He couldn’t fool you twice though.

“That’s why I've been sending you stuff, have you not gotten it?” He frowned. For a moment, it almost felt as if he were trying to be genuinely involved. You knew better.

You hesitated, looking back and forth between the chain lock and his face, though not much contemplating would be able to change the choice that’d already been made for you.

“No. I… donated it to some of the others at work. Needed it more than I did.”

There it was again, the indignancy in his eyes. 

“I got it for you though, was it not to your liking then?” His voice was eerily calm, but you knew exactly what it meant. Your hand instantly went up to the chain, almost as if it was moving on its own. Fear gripped at you. You had no idea what he was going to do next.

“So, you’re determined to be a single mother then? Do you know the kind of trouble it would get you and the baby into…” He raised his voice, pausing to see if you’d reconsidered.

Clearly a slight tremble in your hand was enough to convince him you’d finally stood down, a smirk gracing his already vicious face as you opened the door. You had no plan to, but it was hopeless to try and stand up without attracting attention, the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know what a shameless bastard he was.

“Just come inside please. Don’t let anyone see you any more.” You whispered, letting him through the threshold before you shut the door behind you.

“You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Just look at the state of your... apartment.” He shook his head, pushing at stray articles laying all over the floor with his foot, as if they were positively filthy. There were still boxes from your last move sitting around the living room, the only real piece of furniture unpacked being your bed and the table you were sitting at. 

You couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed as you walked into the kitchen, you’d never been this untidy before. It wasn’t any easier as Lando tailed you, only pausing outside the door frame, as if something stopped him from coming through.

“You should move from here. I don’t like this apartment, it’s in a sketchy part of town.”

“Well, I don't recall asking for your opinion, did i?”

You didn’t pay any mind to his poking, filling a random mug up as you stood at the sink before you shot back, standing in the dark of the kitchen as he walked away, presumably to shuffle through your personals again. You were thankful for a moment of silence though, head pounding from all that had happened today.

You stood there lost in thought, and he’d returned sooner rather than later, tone disapproving as he spoke to you once again.

“I wonder how on earth I'm supposed to convince you if this can’t stop you from trying to make it on your own.”

Only, he wasn’t at the doorway anymore, standing a little further back, waving a stack of letters to your face. The color of the envelopes, you immediately knew what the contents were.

Heat seemed to bloom across your face, rushing over to grab the letters from him. It was of no use, he could easily keep them out of your reach, but it didn’t stop you.

“Sweetheart, what happened to you? Looks like you’ve managed to stir up more trouble than you can handle, am i right?” You could hear the mock empathy in his voice, distorted by the rush of blood to your ears.

“You. You happened to me.” You hissed back at him, finally grabbing the papers and slinking backwards. There wasn’t any time to leaf through them, but the big bright red stamps were more than enough to drive you to tears when you saw them. But you couldn’t cry here. Not in front of him.

He didn’t respond to your remark, simply giving you a look of pity, watching with careful eyes as you tossed the pages back onto the table, taking your seat back. The tension was getting higher, only breaking when you finally looked at him, opening your mouth.

“You can’t just come in here, into my life,” you managed, voice quivering despite the resolution you’d come to, “And act like you own the place. You have no idea what I’m dealing with.”

“Don’t I?” Lando pushed himself off the opposing wall, getting closer. “I’m the one who’s been watching you struggle, I'm the one who’s trying to help you love.”

“And is this what help is then?” The thought tasted bitter. “Sending gifts isn’t helping, it’s… wrong.” 

Then adding in a whisper, “You know i can’t afford this.”

He paused, the righteous look he had faltering for a second. “You’re reading it all wrong. I’m just trying to provide for you and the baby, but you want to be stubborn. You won’t take my help, nor will you take my money.”

“I don’t want your money, please.” You begged mercifully, looking at him eye to eye since the first time he’d stepped through the door.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile that sent chills through you. “You should be thanking me. Not many get the same kind of priority you’re getting right now. I’m only trying to make it easier.”

“I would never do it with your filthy money, how many have you run over just to make a paycheck?” You murmured, pausing at the look on his face.

“At least I can provide for myself. I won’t ever have to scrap the bottom of a tip jar only to fail to make rent.” He replied smoothly, eyes narrowing at your attempt to rebuke him.

The implication hung heavy in the air, and you clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. “I… can’t.”

The silence seemed to stretch thinner, and you could feel the burn in your eyes as you looked down at your clasped hands. You couldn’t even really tell when the first tear slipped. It kept coming, and you couldn’t stop it. You knew he was right.

“Hey, hey, none of that.” He said slowly, getting down on one knee to meet your eyes, taking your hand in his. “I was out of line for that, wasn’t i?”

You shook your head, covering your mouth to stop the sobs from escaping. He seemed remorseful, running a thumb over your knuckles as he looked at you with a mix of pity and something foreign.  “I know I upset you, but I'm still offering you a chance here. I wanna set it right between us.”

You didn’t argue through the tears, and he seized the moment. “You can struggle all you want but I can provide everything you need. I can make the baby my heir, I can give you the life you deserve... all you have to do is say yes.”

“Say yes to what? Marrying you?” The words seem to slip out of your mouth mid sob, and a look of amusement crossed his face as you slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Exactly,” he replied, trademark grin spreading across his face. “Imagine it. A beautiful ceremony, a life together. You’d have someone by your side who can ensure nothing threatens you. You’d be safe and sound. The baby would be my successor, guaranteed.”

“I barely even know you. You don’t know me.” You whimpered as he played with your hand, too loving, too suffocating.

He moved closer to your lap this time, bringing his hand up to wipe the tears, soft and tender than you’d known him to be. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, and I know it feels like you don’t know me at all. This is a big decision.”

“It’s not just a decision, Lando. It’s my life.” You hiccuped, despairing clawing at your insides. “How do I know you won’t just leave when you’re bored of me?”

“Didn’t I promise to take care of you and the baby?” He gently cupped your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Look at me. You’re not alone in this. I’m here now, and I want to help.”

There was a flicker of recognition at his words at the back of your brain, raising voices of caution as you looked at him through glassy eyes. “And what if I can’t love you back like you want me to?”

Lando’s eyes darkened slightly, and he took your hands, pulling you closer. “You don’t have to love me right now. Just trust me.” His grip tightened, slightly painful as he held onto you. “Just let me show you what it means to be cherished.”

He leaned in, his lips almost brushing your ear, the movement making your breath hitch. “Let me in, stop thinking so hard.”

You could’ve stopped breathing, time slowing as he pushed the ring box into your lap.

He was never going to give you a choice, but what he said was ultimately true.

“Just think,” Lando urged as you squeezed your eyes shut, allowing him to play with your ring finger. “Think about what you could have.”

You’d never really realized how much his scent stuck till you until now, wrapping around you and lingering softly. A part of you was tempted to lean into him, to let him guide you into this new reality.

Even if you hadn’t made up your mind, he likely already had.

“Fine.”

Wordlessly, the cold metal slipped on the finger he’d been tracing moments before, bringing up your hand to kiss it.

“See? You’re already one step closer.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You could only look at him, dried tear tracks sticky against the sudden cold draft of the air.

“It’s a promise,” he said, his thumb brushing over the ring as if it had already tied you together. “I won’t let you go just like that.”

You shuddered. 

There was no escaping him now. You were tied to him.

A sugar coated nightmare, it seemed.

[kteezy997]

The Candy Man-Part One// W.W.

Warnings: Smut, mention of masturbation, male receiving oral sex, virgin Wonka, cowgirl, missionary, some dirty talk, curse words, cream pie, female receiving oral sex, oh and cheating on spouse A/n: I have not seen Wonka yet, so there are NO spoilers here!

As a young housewife, there wasn't much for you to do. You had done the housework for the week and done all the grocery shopping, and it was only Wednesday. This would make for a long, boring week.

It would be different if you had a child to look after, but sadly, that hadn't happened yet. And it may never happen if your husband continues to show such a low interest in sex. Sometimes it felt like he forgot you even existed.

You wished he would just give you a baby, if he didn't want to give you attention. That way you'd have not only something to occupy your time, but you'd also have someone to love, and for someone to love you. You weren't even sure if your husband loved you anymore. Your relationship wasn't the same as when you were first married two years ago.

These days, all you really wanted was for him to come home, rip your clothes off, and fuck you like he hadn't seen a woman in years. You wanted to feel desired, so badly. You had recently picked up a habit of touching yourself sexually while your husband was away at work. You were so starved.

.....

Autumn had come and gone by this time of the year and it was becoming quite frigid outside. With winter well on the way, you turned on your fireplace in the living room. You didn't really care for the bear skin rug that your husband insisted on having in front of the fireplace, but it wasn't worth the fight to try to get rid of it.

With the fire going, you snuggled up into a cozy sweater and put on some mindless radio station to fill in the silence of the empty house. As you listened to the radio and did some mild tidying about the room, you wondered if you should maybe get a dog, or maybe a cat.

Then the doorbell rang, that's weird. You thought. You seldom had any visitors during the day. You walked over and opened the door.

"Hello, Miss. My name is Willy Wonka! Would you care to sample some of my chocolate on this fine day?"

"Fine day? It's freezing out there," you said as you were awestruck by this man's beauty, his bright purple coat and milk chocolate-colored top hat added a sort of zany zest to his attractiveness. "um, would you care to come in and warm up for a minute?" you said politely, nodding to his briefcase that you assumed was filled with sweets, adding, "I do love chocolate."

"Why, yes, if you're sure you don't mind." he smiled, and his green eyes were dazzling.

"No, I don't mind at all, sir."

Willy took his hat off, and his curls fell downward in a bit of a mess as he stepped into the warm home. "Thank you, I didn't get your name."

"Oh, I'm y/n. Please, sit down, the fire is going."

"It is quite toasty in here, thank you, y/n." Willy said, taking a seat on the couch closest to the fireplace. “Very interesting choice of a rug, y/n.” he chirped.

“Oh that? My husband insisted on it, it’s so dreadful. But it is rather soft.”

“Hm.” he nodded looking at the luscious, dark colored fur on the floor. He then looked at her, cheerily, “So, would you like to try some?” He picked up his briefcase.

“Of course.” you said with a smile, truly wanting to try some of him instead, but you’d give his candy a chance for now. He was so damn handsome. His hair was gorgeous, you wanted to run your fingers through it, maybe even pull it.

He opened his briefcase in his lap, letting you choose which candy you wanted.

You picked a piece of chocolate, and he told you the name of it, and its special ingredients. You listened to him, but ultimately got lost in his innocent yet sexy eyes. You bit into the treat, and it was rich and velvety sweet as it melted in your mouth. It was absolutely delicious. The best candy you ever had in your life.

“Mr. Wonka, this is perfection, it’s absolutely divine.”

Willy smiled widely, “I’m pleased to hear it. I have only ever hoped that each person that tries my chocolate will have that same reaction.”

He was so genuinely confident and excited about his creation. The passion he had was evident.

“I’ll take every one of this flavor that you have, Mr. Wonka.” you said, taking another delicious bite.

“Wonderful!” he exclaimed, “And please, call me Willy.”

“Willy.” you said, softly. You wanted to moan his name. But how to get there? You improvised. “Um, why don’t you stay for a bit longer? I can put in a pot of tea, if you’d like.”

“That sounds lovely y/n, or should I call you Mrs…”

“Oh, it’s Mrs. Hudson, but you can just call me y/n.” you insisted, hopping up and going to the kitchen heating up some tea. You had to have this man. Cheating was wrong, but your husband would never, ever know. He never wanted sex anymore, but you couldn’t go without it like he did. You were so needy, especially now, after meeting the handsome Mr. Wonka.

You had plenty of time to have Willy fuck you and send him on his way with his payment for the chocolate, all before Mr. Hudson got home. You would have to make Mr. Wonka an offer he couldn’t refuse, much like you couldn’t refuse his delectable sweets.

You carried two cups of steaming, aromatic tea, one for you and one for Willy. You hoped it would warm him up properly.

“Here you are, sir.”

“Why thank you, very kindly, my lady.” he took the teacup from you, and you felt weak in your knees when your hand was briefly brushed by his fingers. You watched as he carefully brought the rim of the cup to his lips, taking a small sip. “Mm, that’s quite good. A perfect cup of tea, y/n.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.” you said, sitting down next to him and taking a sip for yourself. You didn’t know how to get this man naked; you weren’t finding any viable option that wouldn’t be too crude or forward. You felt you were running out of time. You couldn’t let him leave with the risk of never seeing him again. This delightful, beautiful man could not escape you.

“Well, this has been quite the pleasure.” he said, in a farewell tone. He took one last sip of his tea.

You haven’t had the pleasure, yet.

“But I will get out if your hair,” Willy stood up, continuing, “and go about my merry way. Thank you for your-"

“Wait! Willy-" you shot up to your feet as you spoke but couldn’t finish a sentence. You just started into his eyes.

“Yes?” he asked, frowning at you, utterly confused by your behavior.

You didn’t have the words, so you threw yourself at him, kissing him hungrily.

He took ahold of you, and pulled away from the kiss, “Y/n, are you mad?”

“Oh, god! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“No, it is alright. It was kind of…nice.”

“Yeah? Mr. Wonka, I had an idea of pleasing you the way you pleased me with your chocolate. If you’ll indulge me?”

He raised his eyebrows, “I have to say, I’m intrigued.”

You put your hands on his chest, making him sit back down on the couch. Your hands then went to his fly.

“Whoa! What are you doing?” he asked, panicky.

“Shh-sh. Relax, Willy. Do you like me?”

“Ye-yes.” he trembled with nerves. “I find you very pretty.”

“I really like you. Have you…ever been with a woman before?” You rested your hands on his upper thighs, dangerously close to his member. It was visible through his trousers although he wasn’t even hard yet.

Willy shook his head, “No, ma’am.”

“Awe, don’t be scared. I’ll take care of you, okay. Do you want that, Willy?” You ran your hands slowly around the outline of his cock.

He gulped, watching your hands on his pants, “Yes, I think I would really like that.”

“Good.” You beamed, unzipping his trousers, and pulling his cock out. He was much thicker and longer than your husband. You were excited about being Willy’s first. You wet his cock with your tongue, and sucked him, moaning and slurping as you did so. You wanted him so bad; you sucked his cock like your life depended on it.

A string of “oh oh oh”’s and “mmm’”s fell from Willy’s mouth as you worked over his cock. He writhed on the couch and placed a hand on your head.

He was hard as stone after a moment, and you had been wet since he sat on your couch the first time. “Oh, Willy. Do you feel good, my sweet?”

“Yes,” he panted, his eyes glazed over, “very good.”

You stood up, and dropped your underwear to the ground, kicking them elsewhere. Then, you mounted him. His hands instinctively went to your waist. You reached down, placing his member between your folds. You sank down on him, feeling the intense stretch of your vaginal walls. You moaned in a slight pain initially, because his was larger than your husband, and you had never been with anyone else.

“Are you alright, y/n?”

“Oh, yes, darling, just give me a moment.” you adjusted, and then started to bounce in his lap.

Willy watched you in wonder and awe, then he’d look down to watch your pussy envelope his cock. “Haa, this is incredible.” he moaned, gripping your hips harder.

You quickened your pace. Sinful wet sounds came from your pussy. God, you needed this. The friction alone was titillating, but the tip of his cock would hit your cervix every so often and it was bliss, the whole scenario.

"Oh, y/n!" Willy cried your name over and over again. His hands explored your clothed body, groping your curves.

Damn, it felt so nice to be touched, and his hands were surprisingly big, and he knew how to use them.

You held yourself up with your hands on his shoulders, and slowly rocked back and forth on his cock. You noticed him eyeing your chest. "Unbutton my blouse, Willy."

He bit his lip with an eager gleam in his eyes, and he opened up the front of your blouse, letting your breasts plop out in his face.

Willy's eyes widened, he took his eyes away from your tits to look up in your eyes, "May I feel them?" he asked with a soft whimper.

"Yes, absolutely." you huffed, taking his hands and clapping them onto your naked breasts.

He gently squeezed and kneaded your breasts, then rolled your nipples between his fingers.

He was so sweet, and so curious about your body. It was so hot. You wanted to get off, you hoped to cum all over his dick. You held onto his arms firmly and rode him hard. His cock pounded away at your walls wildly, and you contracted your pussy around his girth.

"Ah! Fuck this is so good! I'm gonna...I'm gonna come!"

"Oh, oh!" Willy held your waist, and you felt his cock twitch inside you.

Your tummy swirled, and your legs went limp as you came.

"What's happening?" Willy cried, "What is this?" You felt him shoot ropes of his milky cum inside of you.

You took his worried face in your hands, "You're alright, my candy man. You had an orgasm. It's a wonderful thing."

"Oh," he panted, "yes, I suppose it is. A fantastic thing! Gosh, y/n, that felt like chocolate tastes, and chocolate is the best thing in the world!" he was so excited, like he'd discovered something that no one else had experienced before.

You giggled, "Well, I'm flattered, Willy." you felt hot and sweaty, you ran your hand down the back of your neck. You felt Willy's eyes on your tits.

"Your breasts, they are absolutely beautiful." he took them in his hands, just admiring the fullness of them.

You felt your pussy throb at the sight. Your husband never paid much attention to your body, but Willy seemed to be enthralled by you. You noticed how the glow of the fire highlighted his cocoa-colored curls. It was so pretty, his hair looked like the work of a master chocolatier. You ran your fingers through it, feeling the silkiness of his glorious mane.

"Can we do it again?" he asked you, then nodded to the floor, "There? On the bear skin rug? It would be comfortable for you."

"You're so thoughtful. Fuck me again, Willy Wonka. Pound me into the floor if you must."

Willy smiled like a kid on Christmas morning and hoisted you up and then carefully placed you down on the rug.

The fur was plush and soothing on your back. You put your arms up by your head to get comfy.

Willy ran his hands down your body. He looked at you like you were a gift he had been waiting for. "You are so beautiful. Your husband does not know how lucky he is."

"That's sweet, Willy, but let's not mention my husband."

He nodded, "Right." Then, he dipped down, pressing his lips to your stomach.

"Mm." you moaned, rubbing your thighs together in anticipation. You could feel Willy's semen dripping out of you. You wanted more.

Willy left small wet kisses down passed your navel, lower and lower, and you couldn't help but push his head down where you needed him most.

"How do I do this, y/n? Is it like... licking a lollipop?" he asked, naively.

You smiled at him and said, "Yes, kind of. Like a sucker with a chewy center...but you're not in a big hurry to get to the center. You're just trying to enjoy the flavor on the outside."

He took a second to ponder over what you had said, then he nodded, "Okay, got it."

He was a quick learner. He lapped steadily on your clit; his pacing was perfect, not too fast, not too slow. He must have had lots of suckers in his life.

"You can use the tip of your tongue also, Willy." you whimpered through the pleasure.

"Oh, okay." he answered, his voice muffled as he didn't move away from your pussy as he spoke.

The vibrations from his voice sent tingles through your body. That coupled with Willy massaging your clit with his tongue and letting the tip dance between your folds, led you to your second orgasm. You cried out in ecstasy. "Willy Wonka, you are a god!"

"No, I'm just a chocolate maker." he said, nonchalantly. He then sat on his knees, his hand around his cock. He ran the tip of his cock along the joint of your wet folds, coating himself in your cum.

"Ooh." you moaned, tucking your fingers into the furry rug as firmly as you could.

Willy slid into you, then back out. "Ha, you're so wet."

"Fuck me hard, Willy." you purred.

With that, he shoved his cock into you, bucking his hips roughly. His hips smacked your skin with each thrust. He put his whole length into you. He gripped your thighs and started to get faster.

You squeezed him with your thighs, and he grew more confident in what he was doing and picked up a rhythm. You watched his handsome face scrunch up as he worked his hips, his thick brows furrowing in both pleasure and concentration.

You wondered what your husband would do if he knew that the candy man stopped by and made you come on the bear skin rug he loved so much. Oh, the risk was worth it! For Willy was perhaps better at sex than making chocolate.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss

@chalametbich

[sturnioz]

♯┆fully introducing. . . shy!chris .ᐟ

shy!chris does have a big mouth, and he likes to boast about all the women that he's fucked with confidence — so why did he turn into a stuttering mess when you finally have him?

"yeah, and like, she was all over me, man — couldn't get enough of me, i swear to god... and then—"

you half-listen as chris boast about his recent hook-up to your shared group of friends, swirling your plastic straw around your drink, hearing the ice clink against the glass in a distant chime. leaning forwards, elbows resting on the table, you take a sip while glancing up at chris, watching as his hands fly through the air, punctuating his words as he tries to paint a vivid picture of his wild night.

the others around the table are completely captivated, their mouths agape, eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and excitement. they gasp, laugh, and lean in closer, hanging on his every word. now and then, they playfully slap his back or shoulder, egging him on as he basks in the attention. listen in intently, mouths agape, eyes wide, gasping and laughing at his choice of words, even slapping his back and shoulder as he boasts.

honestly? you find it hard to believe him.

sure, chris is extremely attractive — his messy hair, striking smile, pearly whites, and a charm that easily draws people in. it wouldn't exactly be shocking if he was meeting girls. but the sheer number he claims to get into his bed, and the way he describes the way he fucks, it just doesn't add up.

he always blushes whenever you and the girls in your group wear revealing outfits or bikinis during beach trips, his eyes always darting away as if he's trying to hide from them. that shy, stuttering awkwardness feels worlds apart from the confident persona he projects during these apparent hook-up talks.

"who is she?" you find yourself chiming into the conversation, not missing the way chris' body seems to tense up for a moment before forcing smiling, shaking his head.

"i uh, i don't know. some girl i met at a party. i.. don't remember the names of one-night stands, y'know? doesn't.. doesn't make sense if i do, right?" chris looks around at the others for their approval, and some nod their heads with a hum. "as long as i gave her a good time, which i did, that's all the matters—"

"you went to a party?" the words slip out before you can stop yourself. you know you should ease off, especially if it risks making a complete fool out of him, but you can't stop. "when?"

"like... last weekend, yeah," chris nods, almost as if he's confirming it for himself. you hum softly, and chris fidgets in his seat, turning to face you fully, raising his eyebrow. "do you.. do you not believe me, or somethin'?"

"no, i'm just... curious," you reply with a grin, teeth biting down on the straw in your drink. chris stares at you for a moment, processing your words, before forcing out a laugh that feels a bit strained.

"curious about my sex life?" chris huffs, nudging a friend beside him with a playful elbow. "she wants proof, kid. wants to see how good this dick is—"

"actually, yeah," you cut in, your voice steady. chris freezes up, his eyes widening in surprise as the others at the table gape at you, their expressions a mix of shock and amusement.

you know you should probably stop now, but something inside you urges to push back. you want to challenge him, and playing with his little jab feels like the only way to do that.

you lean back in your seat, arms crossed, a smirk playing on your lips as you continue, "i want to know how great you claim to be in bed."

now, you didn't expect to chris to actually nod his head and go through with it — acting all smug and confident in front of your friends. it was clear he took what you said as a joke, and that irked you a little bit, so you stand up from the table, telling him to leave the diner with you right now. chris is stunned again, blinking rapidly as if he couldn't quite process your sudden demand, and a light blush creeps across his cheeks as he laughs nervously, standing up and following you out.

and what you also didn't expect was for chris to be laid out beneath you, his bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead, eyebrows scrunched together in pleasure and plush lips parted with heavy gasps as you ride him, the blankets bunched loose around your waist. his cock does hit all the right places, and truthfully it feels extremely good, but you're pleased to see how much of a stuttering mess he is as his hands grip your thighs, jumbled words leaving his lips.

"oh ffuuuck.. jus' — ah... shit. l-like that, please. oh god... you're so — this feels — you feel... oh shit shit shit. m'sorry.. not gonna last. god, you're fuckin' amazing."

© STURNIOZ

[anastasiabowe]

𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗 𝙃𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 — what it's like having a husband who's a celebrity!

Note: Quick food for your pretty little thoughts 😍💕 (NSFW UNDER CUT!)

Content Warnings: rough kissing, p in v, photography of intimate times, oral (m receiving), switch (Choso),nipple play, desc of male parts. MDNI.

𝙎𝙁𝙒

𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗 𝙃𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 who not only was famous in general, he was quite popular with the ladies. Everywhere he went there would always be some underage girls trailing behind us, never realizing that they could never stand a chance with him. He already found his soulmate, and no matter how many beautiful girls he comes across will change that.

𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗 𝙃𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 who has to silence his phone at night to not disrupt your early slumber, or has to take multiple social media breaks because of all the overwhelming messages he gets every day. He usually has to make new accounts that are private for only him and his family/friends to follow so he can posts photos of you both for distant relatives to see.

𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗 𝙃𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 who has to sadly keep you a secret. Many times paparazzi have seen you two together, but never once could they recognize you, but the headlines were glaring with fake gossip about his personal life. "CHOSO KAMO'S SECRET LOVER?!" "DID CHOSO KAMO LIE IN HIS RECENT INTERVIEW?!" "WHO IS THE MYSTERIOUS WOMAN ALONGSIDE CHOSO KAMO?!" he could laugh at how ridiculous the media is, always focused on what other people are doing and never worrying about real issues like homelessness or the rising numbers of people who can't afford basic groceries.

𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗 𝙃𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 who although is always at some sort of interview/event always makes sure you are well taken care of. He always calls you, always texts first, and makes sure to make it up to you in any way he can. He knows you don't want to be in the limelight, but he can admit that he feels almost too selfish to be your husband. He wants to showcase you from the ends to the earth. Kiss you publicly, flip off any girl whose dreams were crushed, he wanted to show the wedding ring with your name engraved in it.

𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗 𝙃𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 who always uses you to help him keep succeeding, that being having you help him memorize lines, because all he wants to do is hear your voice instead of the actress he has to fall in love with for the film, or have you help him get ready for a talkshow, and even sometimes a simple kiss on the lips and a quick pep talk, "Don't be so nervous, I don't want to see any wrinkles until your 45! So take a deep breath, and treat it like I'm right by your side, cause I am, just from afar!" making him laugh and loosen up a bit before any nerve-wracking thing he must do.

𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗 𝙃𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 who pleaded and begged for you to come with him to an award show. Promising you any dress, any heels, any wish. He wanted this to be the moment he shines his golden wedding ring which went beautifully with your diamond one. He wanted to wrap his hand tightly on your hip, showing the cameras what's his. He wanted to go up on that stage and thank you, and only you for helping him work his way up to this. He wanted to introduce you to all his celebrity friends who they too didn't know you existed. To be honest, it wasn't a want anymore, it wasn't a choice for you anymore. You were going with him, and if you don't, he will simply die.

𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒

𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗 𝙃𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 who doesn't waste a second pulling you flush against him after dodging and weaving to avoid paparazzi or fans. He holds you so close, kissing your lips to the point of pain. You moan into his mouth, feeling his growing boner harden against your thigh. "Mmm, fuck, finally get to show my fucking wife how much I love her." He growled bringing his hands up with your shirt to pull it over your head. He then unclasped your bra, and his mouth watered seeing your tits. He couldn't wait to have you in every position he could think of, he might even put you into the same one a few times, just so he can see you so desperate for him.

𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗 𝙃𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 who is a switch when it comes to sex. He will very much pound, circle, and suck you into the very shell of yourself, but he also wouldn't mind you using him as well. He could have you at his mercy one night, on your hands and knees begging like a starved puppy, or, he could be pleading for you to touch him after an hour of being tied up and you playing with yourself in front of him.

𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗 𝙃𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 who surprisingly has a nipple kink. He goes absolutely psycho when you play with his nipples. He could cum simply alone from nipple play, and that plays into your fantasies perfectly. "Aha! N-no more, I need to b-be ins-IDE you!" Choso wreathed underneath you as you sat on his stomach playing with his nipples, licking, sucking, and biting the pink nubs. His hands and feet were tied to the corners of the bed, and you only let go on one of his nipples that you've been licking and sucking, and softly kiss his wet lips. "just one more baby, and you can get whatever you want, just one more." His breath shook as he nodded, feeling your warm lips and tongue resume what they were doing before.

𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗 𝙃𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 who always, always, ALWAYS records/photographs you when you're being intimate. He had no plans of using them in a certain way, let alone post them, but he likes the feeling of having you with him everywhere, and that being when you both were the closest, when you both were the most connected (pun intended). The photos usually consists you somehow seductively posed before the intimate moment begun, then you looking like a hot mess. "fuckkk, look up at the camera baby, don't care which lense, look at all three for all I care." Choso encouraged as he bobbed your head up and down his dick. He groaned when you made eye contact with the camera, Choso getting butterflies seeing you look so... Sexy. Choso smirked as he recorded you, the gagging and slick sounds filled the phone, and all he could do was smirk at how obedient and hot you were. "Just like that, when I'm done recording this, I want a few more angles of you in different positions, does that sound okay?"

𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗 𝙃𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 who could literally fuck you for days. Not an exaggeration. He would fuck you all night, and let you sleep for a few hours, and then fuck you again for many more hours, then let you sleep. You once did nothing but fuck for 3 days straight, and that's because your husband was in Paris for a month. Choso could not get enough of your pussy, and you could not get enough of his dick. His dick was everything you could have ever wanted (next paragraph goes in more detail). He knew how to use it, and so did you. You knew how to roll your hips and how hard you should bounce on his dick for it to reach your g-spot. You were good at finding it, but he was the best. "Harder, Cho! Please baby!" You moaned into his ear as he pounded into you. Choso quickly stopped his thrusts, and readjusted himself. He spread your legs even more, and spread his legs a little more too. He got better ground, and it was fucking game over for you. He rammed fast into you, and the immediate buttery feeling filled you. You let out scream in Euphoria, and he chuckled "Found it." Before he leaned down to kiss you. His hands gripped the sides of your head tightly as you both moaned loudly into each other's space. He smiled seeing your fucked out face, and couldn't help but think how you look a billion times hotter all fucked and spaced out for him.

𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗 𝙃𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 who has a big dick. You knew, he knew, the media knew. How does the media know? Creepy people were taking photos of him at the beach, straight at his crotch, that sparked a whole new thing that resulted in many stories and fanfics being written about him that always talked about it, but here's his trusty wife to tell us the details. His dick is big in every way. 8.5. Fucking. Inches. Long. Not a joke, not a myth, it's a fact. And before any of you "that's not even a lot!" People start bitching, go look up an 8 inch dick and see if you can take that comfortably.. anyways, I digress. Everytime you both fuck, it hurts in the beginning. Choso obviously peeps you more than most, but it still can't change the fact it goes so deep. The stretch is a bit over moderate, but the depth is insane. You could actually feel it in your tummy, and Choso always pushes his hand deep into your tummy to feel it go in and out. You always wondered how you got so lucky to have a man like him, handsome on every part of him, inside and out, but truthfully, Choso always questions how he even pulled you, so who's really lucky?

[girlgenius1111]

all of my pain and all your excuses

part 2 of family line ingrid arrives home, and realizes how much she's missed with her sister. her and mapi try to figure out how to put the pieces back together. r struggles with the mess inside her head. cw: mommy issues galore 🙃 mentions of poor mental health. solstråle continues to be sad.

-------

It took you a few minutes of crying into Mapi before you realized what she’d probably done. At this realization, you pulled away from her in a panic, practically falling onto the ground. 

“Mapi, please don’t tell Ingrid about this, please please, you can’t, she’ll be so mad, she’s already mad, I can’t,” your gasps for air cut your words off and Mapi took your face in between her hands. 

“Breathe. In and out pequeña. Just breathe.” She instructed, dramatically exaggerating her own breaths. 

“Please, Mapi,” you whimpered after a minute. 

“I’m sorry, nena, I had to. I had to.” She said, seemingly begging you to believe her that she’d had no other choice. You couldn’t really blame her; you’d gotten yourself here, after all. You’d written the letter. You’d meant every word you’d said, and every word you didn’t quite have the guts to say. You’d collapsed into her arms. You’d given her no choice. 

“I’m really scared,” you mumbled. 

Mapi pulled you back in, tucking your face easily into her chest. “I know. You don’t need to be, but I know you are. Everything is going to be alright. I promise you.” 

You wrapped yourself tight around the defender, hoping with everything in you that she was right. 

When Ingrid burst through the front door, eyes immediately finding you on the couch, crumpled up into a little ball in Mapi’s lap, she knew it was bad. Mapi was holding you so tightly, expression unreadable when she glanced up at Ingrid, murmuring inaudible words in your ear. You looked so small, visibly trembling in your baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, Mapi’s arms engulfing you. Ingrid practically ran to your side, sitting as carefully as she could next to the both of you. 

“María, what..?” Ingrid asked, trailing off when Mapi silently held out a piece of paper to her. Ingrid took it, having no idea what she was about to read. Having no idea what she was about to feel. 

You were hiding your face in Mapi’s sweater, much too distraught to care about how pathetic you probably seemed. You’d heard Ingrid enter, and you knew it was just a matter of time before you had to leave your safe little bubble and confront this. When it had been silent for too long, and you knew Ingrid must be done reading by now, you shifted away from Mapi. It was time to be brave, and it was time to take whatever was coming your way. 

The look on your sister’s face made you want to take it all back. Because, fuck, you weren’t sure your happiness was worth making Ingrid this upset. She was scanning over the paper over and over, as if she was hoping the contents would change with each reread. 

You acted stronger than you felt, sliding off Mapi’s lap and moving a bit closer to Ingrid. She didn’t look away from the letter. 

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. 

Your sister’s head snapped up to look at you so rapidly, you almost jumped. 

“Solstråle,” Ingrid began, and you felt like the last stable part of you broke sharply at the nickname. Sunbeam, it meant. Ingrid had called you that your whole life. Her sunbeam, always breaking through the clouds to shine a bit of light. She’d assumed you’d grown out of it, recently. You looked so small, though, so scared and so desperately sad, that it just slipped out. She didn’t regret it, not when you practically fell towards her. “Oh, honey.” 

If you were crying with Mapi just minutes before, you were bawling now. Hysterical, hyperventilating cries that were painful to hear, and painful to let out, but somehow so cathartic. Ingrid pulled you into her, beginning to cry herself. 

When Ingrid spoke, it was in Norwegian, and nothing had ever sounded so safe. “I am so sorry, my perfect baby sister, I am so so sorry. I love you. I love you, I love you. More than anything in this world, I love you.” 

And though you still cried, you relaxed marginally at the comfort hearing her speak in your native language brought you. You relaxed, going completely limp against your sister. You probably would have slid off her onto the ground if she hadn’t had her arms wrapped around you so tight. Ingrid wasn’t sure she’d ever let you go. You weren’t sure you wanted her to.

-------

Ingrid stood in your doorway, eyes fixed on your sleeping form. She’d brought you up to bed, carrying you like she used to when you were little. You’d fallen asleep on her downstairs, and she hadn’t dared to move you for a while. She and Mapi sat in a rather stunned silence for a while, before Mapi suggested she bring you up to bed. So, Ingrid tucked you in, pulling the covers up to your chin the way she knew you liked them. She noticed something tucked under one of your pillows, and carefully pulled it out. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the plush polar bear in her hand. Snø. She’d given him to you when you were three, for your birthday. She thought you’d stopped sleeping with him, but apparently not. The thought that you’d pulled him out of your closet for some comfort upon arriving in Spain made tears flood Ingrid’s eyes. She carefully kissed your forehead before rushing out of the room, almost colliding with her girlfriend. 

“Oof,” Mapi grunted, steadying Ingrid, when she caught sight of the other womans’ face. “Amor,” 

Ingrid shook her head, wiping harshly at her eyes, and pushed past Mapi towards their bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled the folded letter out of her pocket, smoothing it out, and began to read it. Again. Mapi had followed her into the room, and took the paper out of her girlfriend’s hands. 

“Give it back.” Ingrid said through clenched teeth. She sounded angry, but Mapi saw the tears in her eyes and knew better. 

“No, you’ve already read it.” Mapi said firmly. 

“María, give it back, I need to read it again.” 

“Mi amor, it's just going to hurt more, and you don’t need that right now.”

“Yes I do,” Ingrid cried. “I do, she’s been hurting like this for god knows how long. Wanting to–” She cut herself off, shaking her head almost frantically. “She said she felt like no one would care if she was gone. Reading this hurts but it is nothing compared to what she has been feeling, and it is all my fault, so let me read it so I can fix this, because I need to fix this, I can’t lose her, María, I can’t lose her.” Ingrid was sobbing by the end, making little to no sense, and Mapi placed her hands on Ingrid’s cheeks, forcing her to make eye contact. She noticed in that moment that while you looked alike normally, you looked just like Ingrid when you cried. 

It wasn’t enough, though, Ingrid was crying so hard, every sob shattered a part of Mapi that she hadn’t known existed. She climbed onto the bed, pulling Ingrid with her, guiding the younger woman’s head onto her chest. Ingrid clutched at Mapi’s shirt almost desperately, muffling her sobs there too, although her body shook heavily with the force of them. Her world was falling down around her, and it was all she could do to hold onto her María, and not let go. 

“I know, mi princesa, I know.” Mapi murmured, running her fingers through Ingrid’s thick hair. “You aren’t going to lose her. We aren’t going to lose her. We’ll fix it.” 

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Ingrid whimpered. Mapi tilted the Norwegian’s head up, until Ingrid was looking at her once again. 

“That’s okay, mi amor. You don’t need to have all the answers now. We’ll figure it out together. For now, just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her.” 

Ingrid nodded pitifully, scooting up and cramming her face into the crook of Mapi’s neck.

“Thank you. For helping her and for texting me and for being so perfect. You’re always so perfect.” Ingrid mumbled. 

“I’ll be perfect for you any day. I love you, and I love your sister. Now relax, mi princesa. Relax, breathe, calm down. We’re going to be okay.” 

And like you had earlier, Ingrid hoped with everything in her that Mapi was right about this. 

-------

Ingrid and Mapi fell silent the minute you walked into the kitchen the next morning. They’d been talking about you, clearly, and they looked at you nervously the minute you were in sight. You’d woken up irritated, though, as you sometimes did, feeling like your blood was boiling, as if one wrong thing would set you off. You wished you had more control than that, but you knew the minute you heard your sister’s voice, you would fly off the handle. Because this morning? You weren’t sad. You were furious. 

The room was a complete contradiction to how you were feeling. Ingrid and Mapi’s home was bright with sunlight, and warm with color. They were both holding matching coffee mugs, and looking at you with matching concerned expressions, and all of it made you want to scream. Why did Ingrid get to have this perfect life, and you didn’t? Why did she get to be happy so easily, and you didn’t? 

You were lost in your thoughts, taking the coffee Mapi handed you with a quiet thank you. The kitchen was uncomfortably silent. 

“Hi, solstråle. How are you feeling this morning?” Ingrid piped up. You clenched your jaw. How did she think you were feeling?

“Fine.” You snapped. 

Ingrid remained quiet and soothing when she spoke next, and it made you even angrier. “Honey, last night,”

“I don’t really feel like talking about it right now.” You said harshly, cutting her off. Ingrid tensed, trying to keep her reaction in check. 

“I’m sorry, solstråle, but that is not an option. We need to talk about what happened, we can’t wait on that.” Ingrid insisted, voice measured. 

Still it was like she’d hit you. Your head snapped up, your features contorted with rage, and you set your coffee down dangerously softly, glaring at your sister. “Oh now we have to? Now we have to talk about it? I’ve been here for 6 fucking months Ingrid. It took you months to realize something was wrong, and you didn’t even realize! I had to write it out for you. You told me last night that you love me, that you want me here, well then why didn’t you fucking show it before now! I said I don’t want to talk today and I meant that.” You yelled. 

Ingrid shook her head, her hands clenching tight into fists. “Do not yell at me. I am trying to help. I understand that you’re hurt, and that you’re upset, but-” 

You scoffed loudly then, interrupting her, and Ingrid got visibly more frustrated with you, her lips turning down into a disapproving frown. 

“You can’t-” 

“Ingrid, just take a sec.” Mapi cut in, her soft voice a sharp contrast to how you and your sister had been conversing. “Nena, we do need to talk, but it doesn’t have to be now. Let’s just all take a breath.” 

Ingrid was shocked when you slowly nodded your head and took a step back from her, inhaling deeply. It was like magic; she’d never seen an argument that you were involved in get de-escalated so quickly.  

“Go get your homework, okay? You’re coming with us to training.” Ingrid said after a minute. There was no room for argument in her words, and you fought against another surge of anger, fought the urge to yell. 

“Is this because of what I wrote?” You asked evenly. Ingrid and Mapi exchanged glances. 

“Listen, nena, we just want to keep an eye on you.” Mapi told you, realizing that you were a lot less reactive when she spoke to you than when Ingrid did. 

“I know what I said. I wasn’t going to do anything, though. Really. I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t do that to you.” You defended quietly. 

Mapi felt Ingrid’s hand slide into hers and grip tight. I wouldn’t do that to you, you’d said. Not I wouldn’t do that, period. Everytime she thought about what you’d written, Ingrid felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She wasn’t sure what would have happened if Mapi hadn’t gotten home when she did. She wasn’t sure how close she’d come to losing you. She was so scared. 

Ingrid had never been good at letting you see how she was feeling, and maybe that was why, until this point, you’d gone out of your way to hide your own emotions from her. She decided to take Mapi’s advice from the night before. Just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her. 

Ingrid approached you like she was worried you would lash out at her, which may have been fair. When you made no move to step away from her, she carefully stood directly in front of you, and put her hands on your shoulders. 

“What you wrote really scared me. I’m not mad, solstråle, I’m just really scared. And I trust you, I do, but if I left you here alone, I would just worry, and we haven’t talked yet, and I have no idea what you’re thinking other than the things you said on that piece of paper. So it would make me feel a lot better if you came with us to training today.” 

You blinked up at her for a minute, before you slowly nodded your head. “Okay. I guess that’s fair.” 

Ingrid seemed equally as surprised as you did, removing her hands from your shoulders, and gesturing for you to go get your bag. Once you’d disappeared from the room, she turned back to her girlfriend, who had a ridiculous grin on her face. 

“Look! You communicated! Like a real human being!” Mapi joked, opening her arms. Ingrid instantly melted into the hug, though she scowled at her girlfriend’s teasing. 

“I communicate.” She said stubbornly. 

“Sometimes,” Mapi allowed. “You’ve definitely gotten better. And you’ll keep getting better because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as determined as you are right now to make sure that your solstråle is okay.” Mapi whispered, kissing the side of Ingrid’s head. 

“My solstråle.” Ingrid smiled. “I started calling her that when she was 3, and she had this shirt with a sun on it. I told her I liked it once, and whenever she saw me sad after that, she’d run off to put the shirt on and come show me. I called her my little solstråle. My sunbeam. She used to be so smiley, María. So happy. She’s so different now.” Very quickly, the smile faded from Ingrid’s face and she held Mapi closer to her. 

“It’s all gonna be okay, mi princesa,” Mapi promised. 

You cleared your throat from the doorway, then, and your sister and her girlfriend sprung apart, blushing like high schoolers caught in an awkward position. “Are you guys done making out?” 

“We weren’t making out,” Ingrid groaned, as you all headed towards the door. 

“No, we only make out after training,” Mapi said seriously.

You made a fake retching sound, Ingrid slapped her girlfriend in the arm, and Mapi laughed to herself, but the tension was broken. And you had smiled, a real smile. Ingrid didn’t care what she had to say to see you smile again, she’d do it. 

--------

As was the norm when you went to training, the younger girls immediately latched onto you, yanking you away from Ingrid and pulling you into some scheme to get back at Mapi for the prank she’d pulled on them last week. It was the usual suspects; Pina,Vicky, Salma, and a couple others pulling you from the room, already giggling. They kindly didn’t say anything about the bruising and cuts on your face, and for that you were grateful, although you did get a few raised eyebrows from the older players. Ingrid watched you go anxiously, only turning her attention away from the door you’d walked out of when Mapi squeezed her hand.

“She’ll be fine.” Mapi promised. Ingrid nodded, but she didn’t stop worrying. And when Mapi went off to work in the gym herself, the Norwegian had no one to pull her out of her head. 

She worried all through the gym session, paying very little attention to what she was supposed to be doing. Which wasn’t normal for Ingrid, and it caught the attention of pretty much everyone. 

Ingrid was staring intently at where you were sitting against the wall in the shade, working on your homework, when Alexia and Frido approached. 

“Everything okay, Engen?” Alexia asked. 

“Yep.” Ingrid said distractedly. 

“What did our dear solstråle do this time?” Frido joked, having known your sister long enough to know precisely why you were living with her. Alexia knew, too, and smiled, joining in on the joke. Until Ingrid’s eyes inexplicably filled with tears, and she turned away from you, wiping harshly at her face. 

“Ingrid? What happened?” Frido wondered, running a hand up and down the Norwegian’s arm, while Alexia looked around anxiously, searching for anyone, anyone on earth, that would be better at dealing with whatever was going on than she would be. 

“It’s a long story.” Ingrid said, her voice cracking. Frido and Alexia exchanged looks, before the captain turned to Jona across the pitch. 

“Ingrid needs her ankle taped!” She shouted, before leading both women off the pitch. Jona nodded knowingly, despite the fact that Ingrid hadn’t done anything to her ankle, and it was rather odd for 2 entire people to accompany her to tape it. Jona knew that Alexia wouldn’t be asking for a minute for Ingrid if she didn’t think it was necessary. 

Ingrid let them pull her into the locker room, rather desperate for some advice and some honesty. Because Mapi loved her too much to tell her how badly she’d really messed up, and both Frido and Alexia were known to be brutally honest. She needed brutal honesty right now. No matter how much it hurt.

-------

You were busy struggling through an essay you were supposed to be writing entirely in Spanish when Frido sat down next to you. One look at her face told you she knew exactly what was going on. You weren’t that surprised. She was your sister’s best friend, and you’d known her for a long time. If there was anyone that Ingrid was going to talk to, it would be Frido. 

Frido always spoke to you in Norwegian, a thing you were endlessly grateful for. It instantly put you at ease, and today was no different, as she tugged playfully at your ear.

“How is my favorite Norwegian?” She asked. 

“I know you already asked your second favorite Norwegian.” You replied jokingly. 

“Why would I ask Caro how you are?” Frido deadpanned. 

You threw your head back, laughing loudly, and Frido grinned, continuing on to tell any and every joke she could think of. 

Ingrid watched from the doorway of the building, and when Mapi turned the corner and saw her watching the two of you, she knew exactly what her girlfriend was thinking. 

Ingrid saw Mapi coming, though, and forced a smile onto her face. “How was the gym?” She asked. 

“Fine. I was distracted though. How is she doing?” Mapi replied, nodding in your direction. 

“Well. She’s joking around with Frido. So, better I assume.” Ingrid said evenly. 

“She’s joking with Frido because Frido speaks her language, and she trusts her, and she didn’t just get into a screaming match with Frido. Frido didn’t read a letter containing her most upsetting feelings. She loves you, Ingrid, she just needs time.” Mapi assured her. Ingrid kissed her cheek softly, very appreciative that her girlfriend always knew what she needed. 

“What if she doesn’t want to talk when we get home?” Ingrid asked, after another minute. 

Mapi sounded wiser than normal when she spoke. Ingrid wasn’t used to her being the voice of reason in their relationship, but she appreciated that the defender always stepped up, and was always willing to be what Ingrid needed. “What happened last night was a big thing. She needs to process, and she needs to take her time with it. She’ll talk when she’s ready. And until then, we keep an eye on her, we give her hugs, and we tell her that we love her, vale?” 

“Okay.” Ingrid agreed. It was going to be a long and difficult evening of not suffocating you with questions, it seemed. She’d do it, though, if it was what you needed. Ingrid thought that she would probably quit football or cut off one of her limbs if that was what you needed. 

-------

You didn’t talk much the rest of the day, as Mapi predicted, and as Ingrid feared. Your sister did her best not to push you, and was mostly successful. Mapi kept the conversation going, able to talk about nothing for hours. She knew exactly which topics to discuss and which to avoid, and she knew how to make both you and Ingrid laugh until your stomachs hurt. Thank god for Mapi. 

You were… relatively alright. Until later that evening, when you got up to head upstairs to finish some homework. You’d accidentally picked up Ingrid’s phone thinking it was yours, and saw a few texts from your mom to her. All about how much she missed Ingrid, how she was thinking of her, how she made Ingrid’s favorite for dinner that night. Nothing about you. You put it back down silently, grabbed your phone, and tried not to think about it, to no avail.

Instead of doing your homework, you sat on the floor of your room, thinking of the fact that your mom had missed your birthday, and not even noticed. Ingrid had, too, but she’d apologized over and over, and she’d promised to take you shopping over the weekend, and to dinner. Ingrid was trying. Your mother hadn’t tried in a while. 

You didn’t realize you were crying until Mapi knocked on the door to say goodnight. She peaked in, frowning when she saw the fresh tears on your cheeks. 

“Hey,” she said softly, carefully lowering herself to the ground next to you, minding her knee. She texted Ingrid to come upstairs, and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, because I know that you aren’t. But Ingrid and I love you. Ingrid and I want you here. Ingrid and I are gonna fix things, and that is a promise.” 

You registered the words, though you didn’t believe them. Still, you gave Mapi a watery smile and leaned into her a bit. Ingrid’s footsteps were quiet in the hall, but you recognized that she was walking faster than normal. She appeared at your door, then, giving Mapi a meaningful look, and took Mapi’s place, sliding down onto the floor next to you. You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and holding tight. It looked as if you were trying to physically hold yourself together. 

“Hey, solstråle,” Ingrid said softly. You murmured a greeting, not moving your chin from your knees, and not turning your gaze towards your sister either. It was quiet for a minute before Ingrid prompted you. “Talk to me, please.” 

You sighed, a tear rolling down your cheek. “‘I just miss Mom.” You said finally. 

Ingrid’s chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were so stubborn, so willful, sometimes she forgot you were just a kid. Just an 18 year old kid living in a foreign country, who missed her mom. “Do you want to call her?” She asked, not very confident in the suggestion, but not really sure what else to say. 

You instantly shook your head. “No. She doesn’t want to talk to me.” 

“Kjære, of course she does,” Ingrid began, but she wasn’t really sure. Your parents were so different, now. And whenever Ingrid called her mom, she never asked about you. She only wanted to hear about Ingrid. Your sister wasn’t stupid, she knew she was their favorite, but she didn’t expect them to write you off completely when you moved to Spain. They seemed happier, now. Without you there. It was something Ingrid couldn’t understand. Neither could you, really, but you had long accepted it. 

“No she doesn’t. I stopped calling her, just to see. 2 months ago. She hasn’t called me once. She doesn’t want me, anymore, Ingrid. I know I was an accident, but if they were going to hate me for ruining their early retirement plans, I don’t know why they didn't just…” 

Ingrid was speechless. At a loss for words, and so so angry. You filled the silence, though, things you’d never said out loud falling out of your mouth like you couldn’t help it. 

“I miss what mom was like before, when I was younger. When you were still at home. I miss that mom. I don’t miss the one that I could call right now.” 

“I don’t understand,” Ingrid said quietly, her hand resting on your head, and pulling you closer to her. 

“Ingrid, I know mom is always nice to you, but,” 

“No, solstråle. I don’t understand her. How she could bring someone so perfect into this world and not want to spend the rest of her life watching you grow up. I’ll never forgive her for how she’s made you feel, and I’ll never forgive myself for not noticing earlier. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it better. I promise you.” 

“Thanks, Ing.” You mumbled, looking up at her for a minute before resting your head on her shoulder. 

The problem was, Ingrid could tell you didn’t believe her. She could see it in your eyes; they were still so guarded and so hurt. You were still angry with her, she knew. You thought she just felt guilty, and eventually she would go back to how she was before. Ingrid didn’t know how to make you believe what she felt and what she told you. She worried so deeply that she wouldn’t be able to. That too much damage had been done, and that maybe she wouldn’t be able to fix it. Late at night, early in the morning, right in the middle of a match, she worried about that. All the time until it consumed her, and all she wanted to do was sit with you, and promise you over and over that she loved you more than anything on this planet. What if you never believed her? 

-------

doesn't everyone feel so much better now!

[sordidmusings]

Well Earned Praise - Mihawk x Reader

Art by mugibara

Summary: Mihawk is a man of few words and many gestures. Lucky for him, you understand them all quite well. Lucky for you, he knows when to use those spare few words.

A/N: This is a little celebratory piece for @feral-artistry ! She's made a huge landmark in higher education recently that she's worked her ass off for and deserves all the treats and hype!! I was lucky in getting this one out for it too bless up lol I usually can only get possessed by ideas to flesh them out but being able to get them into actual words in a timely manner??? Near unheard of lol That said, it's only a ficlet but I hope you and anyone reading enjoys!!

It’s heaps of domesticity and Mihawk being what could even be called playful lol there has to be at least a tiny bit of that in there for him to have suffered Shanks for so many years so well 💀 in canon its hidden in stuff like him calling Zoro a rabbit - like you can’t tell me he doesn’t also say that shit to amuse himself on top of belittling opponents

Word Count: ~2.1 k

Warnings: gn!reader, straight up fluff, banter, Mihawk being the Most Obvious in his own way, favoritism, Perona and Zoro are there too, you have a place in all their hearts, found family undertone, family dinner with the edgelords, Mihawk being supportive of your accomplishments in a hopefully in character manner lol

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“And what has you so happy?” Mihawk drawls. 

You’ve barely set foot in the kitchen by the time the question leaves him. Your bright mood from your recent accomplishment is undoubtedly buzzing from you and likely tripped off his haki. Or at least you’d write it off as that if you hadn’t been speaking about it coming up the past few weeks.

Despite his prodding tone, you know that’s just his normal voice and not his grumpy one from all your time living at Kuraigana. There’s also a lack of the miniscule brow or eye twitch that usually precedes The Grumpy Voice. Instead his face is its usual stony facade, looking much too brooding in contrast to the apron Perona had complained him into. It lacks any of the color or frills she wished, but you are sure with enough prodding she will one day get one or the other on your dour host. The one thing that truly binds you all together at Kuraigana is an innate persistence (easily gaining the name “stubbornness” when not in your favor). It is a formidable weapon you wield both for and against each other. Usually against, but that ratio is growing more favorable by the day. Luckily its bad run is mostly in bickering and banter, not actual harm.

“I know you’re getting old, but I didn’t know your memory was already going,” you goad, walking to join him at the prep table at the far end of the kitchen.

“I don’t make the effort to remember the chirping of birds,” he responds blandly, disproving his statement by alluding to the fact that he listened to your frequent gushing about it to Perona. All the while, he continues chopping vegetables with insane speed and accuracy. It will always amuse you to see the world’s greatest swordsman use those skills to harvest and chop veggies. His choice on which you’re starting to recognize as the mix to make your favorite meal.

“Uhuh,” you reply, obviously incredulous. “I suppose you don’t have much room in that head of yours for anything besides swords play.”

“It’s dangerous to insult the one handling your food you know,” he warns with the barest hint of humor warming his low voice.

“This cook wouldn’t stoop to poisons,” you assure him, “though I will need to watch my back during sparring.”

“If you’ve actually taken to my lessons, you’d know to do that anyway,” Mihawk chastises with narrowed eyes. You chuckle at his predictability - always so prickly if he felt you weren’t taking your crafts seriously.

“We both know I’d be dead if I didn’t,” you point out. The silence, save for the steady thumping of knife on cutting board, is his begrudging agreement. 

That silence quickly turns comfortable, its ease built on a few hundred hours of peaceful companionable silence that you’ve shared. Mostly they were filled with quiet sips of wine, rustling pages, crackling logs, and calm music. Your favorite is when the sweet serenade of the night’s bugs leaks in the cracked windows, heralded by a cool breeze playing with the curtains. A few hundred more hours spent in travel and training built quite the familiarity and warmed your heart from simple attraction to true affection for this untouchable man.

That affection only makes you treasure these moments more. Seeing him in an apron performing a homemaker’s duties isn’t only amusing; there’s a twinge of vulnerability to it. This man, who is an embodiment of death collecting its due for most, is comfortable with you seeing such human pieces of himself. He’s connected with you and your housemates enough to let you each have your mark on him in subtle ways. There is proof enough of it in this kitchen - now always well stocked with sake and sweets, the allowance of a few cutesy mugs ready for use, fresh eggs from the chickens he’d gotten for convenience and definitely not because of your love of animals. (You hadn’t broken him on goats yet but you were far from giving up on that one).

Your thoughts are interrupted by him breaking the hypnotizing motion of his knife to back away from the counter.

“I need to stop in the garden,” Mihawk explains. He casts a pointed gaze at you on his exit. “Don’t go in the fridge.”

The moment he’s taken his exit, you disobey the order. More like a poorly veiled hint. The bright lights of the fridge spotlight quite the treat for you. There’s a menagerie of desserts taking up the top shelf, everything from macaroons to tiramisu to cheesecake to fruit tarts. The colorful display almost kept you from noticing the restock of your drawers of charcuterie below. He really spared no expense; rare cured meats and exotic cheeses were huddled around a large supply of all your favorites, a variety of mustards, jams, and preserves in cute little jars tucked neatly to one side. You can’t help how gooey the gesture makes your heart and how that feeling’s definitely still going to be all over your face when he gets back.

Accepting that fate, you don’t even try to hide it when he comes back through the door with fresh herbs in hand. Mihawk goes through the motions of wiping off his boots and making his way back, all nonchalant confidence, until he looks at you and is struck frozen. He stands and holds your loving gaze for a long stretch of breaths. He’s the first to break your eye contact, looking the closest to unsure that you’ve ever seen him. His face would never tell, but his shoulders curl just a bit up and forward before you see him shove them back into their usual sure posture.

You think he’s going to leave the whole thing unacknowledged, as he’s wont to do with your increasingly common Moments. He shatters that thought when he lays a hand on your arm as he passes, giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth from his large palm leaves a lasting impression on you. The ravenously yearning part of you - the one you try to keep settled - begins telling you how deliciously warm he must run, how he must be the perfect spot for a nap, how those warm hands would feel easing your muscles, how they would feel-

“Managing to get lost while standing still? Should I worry about that with you too?” Mihawk teases. It’s quite impressive how droll he can be when he lets himself.

“If I say yes, does that mean I’m free of being his human compass?” you joke.

“Only until it’s time to be rid of you both,” he answers easily.

“What?” you ask in mock offense. “No send off party? No tearful goodbyes? And here I thought you were the sentimental type.”

“Obviously,” he agrees, gifting you the first tiny, crooked smile of the night.

Wanting to end on a high note, you let the conversation go and instead focus on trying to find ways to help. It goes poorly. Every task you make for is suddenly already being done by Mihawk, or he’s suddenly blocking you from the means to start. Many an ingredient is intercepted, dish grabbed first, or scraps thrown to trash and compost. The absurd game of keep away it makes is funny to you at first but soon becomes frustrating.

“You’re treating me like an invalid,” you huff.

“I didn’t know you were so fond of labor,” Mihawk drawls. Sly eyes slide your way. “Should I put you back on prepping the new beds?”

“No,” you answer quickly. The new garden spot was chosen for convenient location not ease of creation; the ground was mostly clay and full of rocks with the top carpeted thick with sod and weeds. It would have to be cleared off, rocks dug out, manure and sand and peat moss shoveled in, then all mixed thoroughly to break up the clay. It was grueling work. It was Zoro work.

Mihawk goes back to his cooking with an air of satisfaction. You settle for watching and stealing bites to eat from the food he’s making. He pretends to be annoyed. It lets you both play a new game of keep away where you try to sneak and snatch and he tries to swat you away, usually without even taking his eyes off his task. This continues until the meal is nearly done, when he sends you off to your room to “look proper for a nice meal”. You pretend to be offended but he doesn’t buy it.

You don’t want to spend long getting ready, much more set on spending time with the others, but you also didn’t want to let an excuse to dress up go to waste. By the time you’re headed to the usual dining room, you’re layered in expensive fabric with a fresh face and freshly styled hair.

Mihawk is awaiting you at the grand doors, unfortunately lacking that apron. Instead you get him in a flowing shirt, textured in subtle filigree the same deep red as the whole. It is, of course, open to show off his Kogatana and the sun-kissed skin it rests on. As you get closer, you notice his pants are tailored slacks and his boots have been replaced with dress shoes you wouldn’t have even guessed he owned. Not for a lack of class or style, but for a lack of people and occasions he’d deem worthy of the effort. 

You feel almost silly thinking he’s going through all this effort for you but there’s no other explanation. When you stop next to him, you could swear that even his beard is freshly oiled and combed. You’re too lost in your appraisal of him to notice how his own heated eyes are roving over you. You catch them for a brief moment before they fix to your face. To interrupt the loving taunt about to move your tongue, Mihawk holds the door open for you and gestures you inside.

Zoro and Perona are sat at the table behind pristine place settings. They haven’t even noticed the sound of your entrance over their own bickering. Perona always looks dolled up, but there’s something a little extra in the detail of her makeup and not a single hair on her head is out of place. What’s much more surprising than her is that Zoro looks all cleaned up. He’s still in his usual style but not a speck of dirt is on the clothes and his hair looks slightly damp from a recent shower. It’s hard not to laugh at the idea of Mihawk commanding him to bathe like one would a defiant child and Perona having to throw him in the bath like he’s a hissing cat.

Before you move to join them, Mihawk’s hands catch your shoulders. Their capability for gentleness will always amaze you, and this caress to halt you is no exception. His thumbs swipe across your skin a few times, seeming to relish the motion, before he leans forward. There’s a moment where his cheek brushes the crown of your head before his breath floats over your ear and neck, raising goosebumps over your skin. His lips, surprisingly soft, tickle the tip of your ear as he whispers to you. The words strike you and leave you frozen even as he brushes past you towards the table, leaving the scent of spiced cologne in his wake.

Your housemates finally notice you and both send toothy smiles and celebratory cheers your way. You feel almost bad that you have to shake yourself off to match their energy. Once you get close to the table, Zoro is trying to convince you to share his best sake with him while Perona tells you that’s dumb and you should instead focus on looking through the gifts she’s gotten you. You only laugh as dark fabric and frilly stuffies are shoved your way to intercept the persistent attempts to place an o-choko by your plate. 

Mihawk sighs at the commotion, muttering something about wanting a peaceful dinner for you as he pulls out your chair. His grumbling is undercut by the softness easing the lines from his face. When you meet his eyes as he pushes your chair in, you notice the usually violent amber of them has darkened to flowing honey. His words ring in your head loudly again, causing a loving smile to warm your face. He answers with a brief smile of his own, the smallest curl of his lips and crinkle of his eyes, but it's enough to set your heart racing. It pumps electricity through you, tingling your fingertips and sending his words to spin even faster in your head. Even when your heart calms and is instead made full from loving company, you hold the sound of his voice in your mind.

It’s the first time you’ve heard the words from him, and now that you know their sweetness, you’ll chase that high in all your endeavors.

“I’m proud of you.”

[vintagetvstars]

Alexander Siddig Vs. Jeremy Brett

Last Poll of the Quarter Finals!

Propaganda

Alexander Siddig - (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine) - The very first actor I ever had a crush on.

Jeremy Brett - (The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, The Three Musketeers, BBC Play of the Month) - "Listen, I fell in love with One Man when I was 16 and have never regretted it. Jeremy Brett is Everything. Handsome, charming, sweet, amazing voice, delightfully eccentric. Shakespearean actor best known for playing Sherlock Holmes in the 80s, he is widely considered the definitive Holmes and for good reason. Bisexual and bipolar, devoted husband, he was known to serenade friends at restraunts and hold scavenger hunts in his home, where he hid the plunger in a chandelier. Often pigeonholed into period pieces, he owned them. He was a pretty young man who became not just handsome but arresting. He was one of those people who walked into a room and instantly commanded attention, and I for one have never regretted giving him my attention." Full text propaganda included below the cut

- No Negative Propaganda Please -

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Alexander Siddig:

“At my first meeting with Garak I became visibly flustered. That was entirely my choice. It wasn’t written into the script. So I set off in that direction right from the get-go. And Andy (Andrew Robinson) obviously loved it, and that character became a series-long character because of that first scene. It’s an innocuous little scene on one of the little replimats on the station, and it only lasted like five seconds but it packed a punch because of the visible, kind of a charged, discomfort. That really made it. [...] I subconsciously keep that door open with just about every character that I play, and I always keep it as ambiguous as possible. One of my first roles was in [the TV movie] A Dangerous Man: Lawrence After Arabia with Ralph Fiennes and I played Feisal and again, not in the script, but that was charged with homoerotica and implied homosexuality. I’d just come fresh off that project. And I’ve done it numerous times since, characters that are written straight I just make sure are not quite straight. That’s just one of my things, probably because I’m not quite straight myself and that’s probably perfect." - Alexander Siddig in a recent interview with comicsbeat.com

Jeremy Brett:

“The superbly handsome Jeremy Brett, the regularity of his features made dramatic by a broken nose, the mellifluousness of his voice made arresting by a slight vocal impediment, presented a ravaged and romantic Holmes, a man who had suffered deeply and whose recourse to the syringe was the compulsion of a self-destroying temperament. His relationship with Edward Hardwicke’s transparently decent Watson was that of a drowning man clinging to a raft. The authenticity of the performance was unmistakable.” — “The man who created a monster; Conan Doyle hated the fame of his suave hero, but he couldn’t kill him”, Simon Callow, The Times, 18 December 2009.

Listen, I fell in love with One Man when I was 16 and have never regretted it. Jeremy Brett is Everything. Handsome, charming, sweet, amazing voice, delightfully eccentric. Shakespearean actor best known for playing Sherlock Holmes in the 80s, he is widely considered the definitive Holmes and for good reason. Bisexual and bipolar, devoted husband, he was known to serenade friends at restraunts and hold scavenger hunts in his home, where he hid the plunger in a chandelier. He also practiced archery in the middle of London. He could sing, he acted alongside Audrey Hepburn twice. He wanted to be a jockey when he was young but then grew a foot too tall. He had rheumatic fever as a child and was told he would never climb stairs. Dear Reader, he jumped over couches on film. In War and Peace he is very clearly the only actor riding a real horse, and is one of few actors who played both Sherlock Holmes and Watson. Often pigeonholed into period pieces, he owned them. He was a pretty young man who became not just handsome but arresting. He was one of those people who walked into a room and instantly commanded attention, and I for one have never regretted giving him my attention.

[lune-redd]

Hello, it's Lelly.

As you may know, I have recently deactivated my Twitter account. A lot of people are speculating I left because I was being harassed for drawing my older depiction of Bubbles from The Powerpuff Girls as chubby. However... that's not the direct reason I left. In fact, I didn't really see much of the comments of folks on there getting riled up about it as I muted the tweet the morning I saw that it blew up. I was only merely aware of it all by being told about it from friends, with there being some other users on the site making other really fuckin' stupid comments about my art.

This does however lead into why I actually left Twitter, and it's because of Twitter's overall toxic nature. Overtime, I've really gotten sick of how absolutely revolting Twitter has become to experience. The site is basically built around dunk culture and doom scrolling. You know that one tweet of someone making an example of Twitter's utter stupidity by using pancakes and waffles as an example?

I bring this up because I think this fits my point about how Twitter has this thing of assuming the absolute worst about the most insignificant things, even the most innocuous. The "Bubbles obesity" comments weren't the only stupid comments that came out of that post. I also got a quote retweet that I was "forcefully feminizing Buttercup", even though the whole fucking point of that drawing was to depict a usually tough character in an unusual situation for her. I have also gotten stupid comments on other drawings though, like the one where Mitch pushes Buttercup down for trying to look taller than she is and I got called a misogynist for it, though I'm pretty sure that one was bait (Twitter users have a tough time figuring out what is and isn't bait, it's dunk culture that I'm about to talk about really doesn't help this).

The site's dunk culture is also really fuckin' bad. Quote retweets are a disease, as unlike Tumblr's reblog comments, quote retweets count as a different post. Someone disagrees with you? Show your audience how stupid they are on your page! Hey, are you trying not to see the most abhorrent racist statement imaginable? Well TOO BAD FUCK YOU here's a le epic own giving them all the attention in the world even though one of the most common internet rules are DON'T FEED THE FUCKIN' TROLLS YOU IDIOT. Oh hey, are you trying to explain how you prefer a certain artistic choice over another in something you like? Well you're a deranged ungrateful whiny nitpicker, get owned!

I've seen so many of my friends be belittled for simply discussing their artistic preferences of things they're passionate about. I had a friend who said he prefers the original Crash Bandicoot design over his redesigned look in Crash 4, and had legitimate reasons for why he felt that way (even if he didn't really explain them clearly), and he got dunked for it which made me mad. I'm sick and tired of it all. The reaction to my art is only a mere example of the shit I despise about that site.

I had been planning on leaving Twitter for quite some time, as my follower count was growing nearer and nearer to 10K. I had planned on leaving after 10K followers because that amount was wayyyy too fuckin big for me to handle. I'm a young and growing lad, and I felt it wouldn't be good for my mental sanity to handle all that, so I dipped. The amount of attention I've been getting is simultaneously both wonderful and extremely overwhelming. Even the explosion of new followers and asks on here is quite the load! (Seriously, calm the fuck down y'all) I am very grateful for all the supportive asks I've gotten even though I won't be able to answer them all, thank you all so very much.

tl;dr I didn't leave Twitter because I was being harassed or anything, but rather because of the site's overall toxic and belittling environment.

Adios.

-Lelly

[baphmochii]

Inmate Sal x f!reader ~ PenPal (HC's)

18+/CW: SFW with a dash of NSFW. PenPal turned Romantic. Reader is female and of age (adult).

°.✯����✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°

This is something I thought of and I'm hoping it doesn't turn out awful. I know that no one's perfect when it comes to writing anything but.. *exhale* here we go.

°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°

✯ (How it Started): You're close friend had told you about inmate penpal's, they would read you their letters of what their penpal would write and it sparked an interest if you wanting to have a penpal.

✯ After getting set up and registering for a penpal, to your luck you manage to get Sal. It started off as (surprisingly) friendly back and forth conversation. It felt as if you were talking with an old friend you haven't seen in years, you would write Sal about your day, what you plans you had, college and other normie things. Sal would write to you about his day and what goes on in prison. (ex: riots, stabbings, etc.) The usual of what happens in a prison.

✯ You would eventually send Sal a photo of yourself after some time of talking and getting to know each other via letters, you slipped your photo in with the most recent letter you sent off to him. Once he got that letter and opened it, seeing your gorgeous face.. something changed in him.

✯ Sal was infatuated with you. Truth behold.. Sal was starting to gain feelings for you, strong romantic and sexual feelings. To admit, there were a few times Sal beat his cock silly to the photo of you, he felt shame afterwards, perverted too. He would imagine that it was you on your hands and knees, sucking his thick cock, taking it as deep as it would go down your tiny throat. The things he wanted to do to you... and you didn't even know it. Yet.

✯ Sal would manage to send a photo of himself to you (making a trade with another inmate), he would also slip his photo into his recent letter he sent off to you. Once you got it, you got to see him. Yes, you've seen mugshots of him before but that was along time ago and this was recent. He was.. handsome, he looked quite mysterious. His prosthetic made you feel.. tingly. You wanted to see more of him, especially his face. That would be asking for too much.

✯ The both you would still have conversations but there would also be.. "interesting" conversation. You would engage first with the explicit talk: "I have to be honest Sal.. I played with myself to your photo. I really want you inside of me, I really.. just want you to break me til' I'm unable to walk or form a sentence." You wrote in one letter. In return, Sal would praise you, call you his "good girl", his. Only his.

. . "You make me go feral inside of my cell. You're all I can think about, day and night, princess. I really want to feel your skin, you look so soft." . .

. . "In the showers when I'm alone. All I can think about is wanting to shower with you, our bare skin pressed together as we get each other clean." . .

. . "How are you doing today, princess? Did you remember to eat today? How were your finals today, too? I hope you did your best on it, you're my smart girl." . .

✯ I forgot to mention: Aside from the usual conversation and sexual talk/teasing of each other. Sal would regularly make sure you were eating, making your bed, brushing your teeth, just overall genuinely caring about you. Sal doesn't see you as his "little fuck toy" he sees you as his princess. His precious girl to care for you, he desperately wishes he wasn't behind bars so he can be with you. Sal has never felt this way in a long time with anyone, he's been through so much. Sal is quite surprised you feel the same way towards him.

✯ Being in love with an inmate and yes, a murderer despite him not having a choice. You loved the man, you shared personal things with him, shared many things with him actually. If only there was a way to get him out, to get him his freedom he deserved so badly.

✯ In your recent letters, you and Sal scheduled a meetup at Nockfell Prison. You two would finally see each other face-to-face for the first time. It made the both your hearts beat and flutter like there was no tomorrow, he had so much to tell you and you, the same. You'd finally be able to see his beautiful face (even if it's his prosthetic). It was a face you'd grow to love.

... Bonus!!🎉 (18+) 🥵

✯ Remember how you and Sal would send each other photos yourselves? Well, yes, the both of you would send naughty pictures to each other too.

✯ Sal loved when you would send photos of your naked body. He yearned to touch your curves, feel your breasts and squeeze them in his large hands. He wanted to feel every inch of you.

✯ I do think at one point Sal had manage to photograph his cock (a dick pic lol) and when you saw the image - THIS MAN IS HUNG. You always wondered how big or what it looked like but, the guy is big (8inches).

✯ Ah sending each other naughty pics was what got both of you through your days. Sal made a private folder (somehow) of all the naked/lewd pics of you, his girl. His little shrine~

°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°

Phew! I hope I did good at writing this, this was all off the top of my head but I really wanted to write a penpal turned romantic type of thing, I guess? If you all want more or wanna ask questions (it can be SFW/NSFW questions)

Reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Inbox is Open - 24/7 - SFW/NSFW Asks/Questions are Allowed ❤️

- Aki✯

[choism]

Jester's Game | b.tc

Captain Buggy x Pirate!afab!Reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff (If you squint)

Summary: Trying to overtake Captain Buggy's ship leaves you asking questions, and surprisingly, getting answers

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: top!buggy, afab!reader, unprotected sex (pls dont), cunnilingus, fingering, creampie, squirting, rough sex, gentle sex (yeah wild), inappropriate use of detached limbs, spit as lube (also a no no), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, princess)

A/N: WOOHOO ITS MY FIRST NON KPOP FIC!! I knew I would write for other stuff eventually but I definitely did not expect it to be a recent hyperfixation. Buggy just has me bricked up okay! Anyway I hope y'all enjoy, don't forget to let me know what you thought of the fic in the tags !

It’s a rather unfortunate series of events, really. Sure, you could’ve told your navigator to sail away from the ship with the giant clown crossbones flag. Yeah, it might’ve helped if you had told your crew that they were about to fight some of the toughest pirates in the East Blue. But where’s the fun in that? As their captain, it’s your job to seek the adventure, and well, this was an adventure all right.

It started with you telling your men to approach, cannons firing, your crew hopping their ship, the infamous ship commandeered by none other Buggy The Clown. Yes, the ship your measly crew has decided to board. Listen, it was strategic! Buggy had somehow gotten the map to the grand line back, and your ship just so happened to be within the vicinity of his, so why not seek the opportunity to take it? Well that was your first mistake.

Now, you find yourself here, hands bound behind your back and kneeling with your crew in front of Buggy’s stupid, dumb throne in his stupid, dumb circus tent cabin.

“You all truly are fools for thinking you could take on my band of freaks,” Buggy lazily sprawls over his throne, seemingly unimpressed by your, in his words, ‘lackluster crew’.

“It’s funny actually, how pathetic it was, I mean even Mohji got in a few punches! Ha! Truly a fine show.” The man you assume being the Mohji that Buggy had just poked fun at, slumps his shoulders sadly at his jab. “Now, time to get to the good stuff…” Buggy trails off, standing up and taking a few strides in your direction, his dirty boots stopping directly in front of you. He detaches his hand and uses it to lift your head, pointing your chin up to look him in the eye.

Looking up, you spit and it lands on his cheek, he simply swipes it off with his attached, gloved hand. “So what if you defeated us, it doesn’t make you any better of a pirate, and doesn’t get you any closer to the One Piece.” You tilt your head and smirk. He may have overcome your crew, but he will never overcome your overwhelming ego and pride. It matches his just as equally.

“Ah, that's where you’re wrong, princess,” His grin is just as wide as yours, and briefly you’re confused, what could he mean? “Given your set of thieving skills, probably some of the best in the East Blue, I’ve heard, you’re gonna join my band of freaks, and I’m not giving you a choice sweetheart,” Buggy removes his hand from your chin, and it floats to his arm, re-attaching itself.

“Boys, throw their crew overboard, we have no use for them.” He rolls his eyes and sits back on his throne, “Oh! And go show them to their new quarters, make them feel at home.” Buggy laughs a deep boisterous laugh, one that genuinely sends shivers down your spine.

The pirates lead you into, what is actually, quite a nice room in the lower deck of the cabin, lit by a few candles, and a cot in the corner. Surprisingly, they cut you out of your ropes, and shut the door without locking it. What’s their deal? Don’t they know you can escape at any time if you wanted? Sneak out and steal one of their emergency boats, and sail to the nearest Island? Granted, you aren’t sure where the nearest Island is, you’re a thief, not a navigator.

Instead of worrying about escaping, you roam the small room, admiring your surroundings. The whole ship is clown themed, front he flags to the cabin to everything, but this room is different. Not a single sign of jester-like decorations anywhere. In fact, it’s as if this cabin was decorated specifically for you. Before you can think more of it, the door opens suddenly.

Buggy enters, and closes the door behind him. When he enters you’re sitting on the cot, legs crossed and unamused.

“Not thinking about escaping? Not that you could anyway, we are miles away from the nearest island, and realistically it would take you days to get there on one of our measly boats.” He rolls his eyes, as if annoyed by how small and fragile the boats are, before sitting backwards on the chair at the short desk next to the cot.

“So what do you even need a thief for? Why am I here?” You blurt, already growing impatient from the lack of information being given to you.

“I need you for many reasons, being a thief is only one of them, sweetheart.” Buggy grins and removes his hat, setting it on the desk. “You already have connections at the grand line, and while I know you need my map to get there, I know that you know the people I need to talk to, to gain safe entry without slaughtering half the fucking pirates there.” He leans back and relaxes a bit, observing your facial features.

“And why do you think any of the people I know would want to help you? You’re just some lowly pirate.” You spit at him, angered by his casualness. In what world would you even willingly help him? Who does he think he is?

“Ha…Me? A lowly pirate? This coming from the literal captain of a crew is hilarious! Tell me another joke, please.” He grins knowingly, he knows how to get a rise out of you for sure. You look over his facial expression, smugness overtakes his face and it makes your stomach twist, not with disgust though for some odd reason, with another feeling you don’t quite recognize. 

This whole situation has you feeling all kinds of anxious. How did you just happen to raid the ship of a pirate who just happened to need you for this specific thing, and why is his presence making you feel so…weird? Something isn’t right here, and it can’t be because of your connections to the grand line. No, he’s hiding something. 

“What are you hiding, clown? There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

His face drops, and he gets suddenly very serious, “Listen here, princess,” Buggy gets up from the chair and gets close to you, leaning down, your noses almost touching. “You’re gonna get me to the grand line, I don’t care if I have to torture it out of you, got it? No more questions tonight.” He gets up and suddenly grins very brightly, as if nothing ever happened. “Night night!” Buggy walks out and slams the door, then you hear a locking sound.

Fuck, he locked you in your room. You should’ve expected this, honestly. The way he reacted to your question was so strange. You knew there was something fishy, but you didn’t think whatever it was could’ve prompted that kind of reaction out of him. 

***

The next day you wake up to yelling outside of your cramped room. Yawning, you get up and put your ear to the door,

“I’m sorry Captain Buggy! I didn’t know that was their ship I swear I promise!”

You hear what sounds like a kick to the jaw and a yelp,

“Didn’t know? Didn’t know?! You couldn’t tell by the giant crossbones flag that very obviously bares their symbol? I’m tired of you, someone go throw him off the deck.”

You hear screams and pleads of “No please!” and “I didn’t know I’m sorry captain!” before hearing water splash, then silence, then- oh shit footsteps coming towards your room. You scramble back to your cot and lay down, pretending to sleep. You hear a couple of knocks before hearing a feint “What the fuck am I doing, I go where I want!” Before Buggy barges into the room after unlocking it.

“Get up, I know you heard everything.” He spits gruffly, sitting back in the chair again the same way as yesterday. You sit up abruptly. Last night you couldn’t shake this feeling, of what you felt when Buggy had gotten so serious, and it’s just gotten worse being in his presence. Your abdomen feels hot, your ears feel hot, everything feels hot. It’s like butterflies in your stomach if the butterflies were armed with knives.

“Yes, I did hear, what do you mean by my symbol? I thought bumping into you was a coincidence?” Buggy smiles faintly, and chuckles.

“Yes, it was, I wasn’t informed of what ship we attacked, just that my men captured you all, oh but when I saw you…I knew.” Buggy stands up and motions for you to do the same, getting so close to you, your chests almost touch. He brings his hand to your arm, caressing down the length before gripping your wrist harshly, causing you to wince. “Do you….” he trails off, “Do you really not remember me?” He brings his eyes from your arm to your face, making direct eye contact.

You struggle to find words, what does he mean, remember? Yeah, he gives you a strange feeling everytime you're near him, but you’ve never met this man in your entire life. You think. Honestly you can’t remember anything before the age of seventeen.

“I– no, no I don’t…”

His smile fades, and he lets go of you, “I thought you would remember once you saw me, we were on Gold Roger’s crew together years ago, but you went missing after a particularly tough battle.” He pauses, thinking carefully about what to say next, “You– We– We were close, and I was devastated, I thought you were dead.” He’s being surprisingly vulnerable right now, and it’s kind of scaring you.

“I don’t really remember anything before I turned seventeen, All I know is one day I woke up on an island, a group of pirates took me in, I left, and I’ve been on my own since. The only reason I am where I am today is because I wanted to find who I was, and I figured I could find that out at the grand line.” You feel overwhelmingly sad. Why are you sad? You don’t even know him.

There’s a long silence between the two of you, it’s uncomfortable, tight, and makes you want to leave, until he says, “Let me show you.” He says abruptly, and you think you see a blush across his face.

“Sorry, I mean, please,” Buggy steps into your space again, this time his eyes flit between your lips and your eyes, back to your lips. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find you, I’m sorry you had to go through that, I missed you so much y/n” That was the first time he’s said your name this entire time, but it’s not one you recognize.

“Is that my name?” Your lip quivers, he’s so close now, your lips are inches apart.

“Yes it is, y/n, sweetheart, princess, I’ll call you whatever you want, just let me show you.” The thick air has disappeared and is now replaced with tension. Something deeper, heavier, fills the room. But it’s not a bad thing.

“Let me show you who you were to me.”

You let his face drop to yours, and your lips finally connect.

The kiss is slow, languid. It’s like his lips were meant to connect with yours. Buggy wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you in closer, and kissing you deeper. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you let him kiss you as deep as he wants. The pace quickens and he slots his leg in between yours, rubbing against your pants and providing much needed friction.

You moan into his touch and he walks the both of you backwards until the back of your knees reach the bed. He lowers you onto it and hovers above you, kissing you again before departing. “Is this okay?” Buggy asks, brushes his hands underneath the bottom of your shirt, slowly lifting it.

“Only if you return the favor.” He chuckles and lowers his head to your neck, sucking and biting gently while riding up your shirt until your chest is exposed. You sit up briefly to take off your shirt and as promised, he does the same. He isn’t overly ripped like most pirates are, but he’s still well toned. His muscles flex as he shifts lower, kissing down your chest, down your stomach and stopping just above the navel.

“When I saw you were the one my men captured, it took my breath away,” He lifts your hips so he can remove your pants and undergarments, “I was scared, anxious, I didn’t know what to do, so I pretended I knew you for your skills, not for your past.” After removing everything, he pushes back, kissing your thighs before sitting up, taking his gloves off with his teeth and throwing them to the side. Man that was hot.

Buggy detaches one of his hands and lets it roam up your torso, reaches your neck and gives it a gentle squeeze. Before leading his fingers over your mouth, asking for entry. You grant it and his index and middle finger slip into your mouth, swirling your saliva around and coating them generously. “When you suspected I knew more, I didn’t know what to do. When you boarded I just knew you by name, not face, there was no way I could’ve expected this.”

He removes his hand from your mouth and moves it down to your center, rubbing through your folds gently and inserting two fingers, scissoring you open and prepping you for what's to come. Buggy uses his still detached hand to remove his own trousers, his cock springing free from its confines. He strokes it slowly, clearly getting off to his detached hand fingering you open.

“Buggy…” You moan, you can’t even reply or form a sentence, the pleasure too good.

“Shhh just relax sweetheart, I’ll take care of you.” He brings his hand away from your now dripping cunt, reattaching it and leaning down. You feel his breathe over your core, he kisses your clit before taking it in his mouth, lapping up your taste and fucking you onto his tongue. You can feel your orgasm approaching quickly as he flits between sucking on your clit and tonguing inside of you, but he pulls away.

“Fuck! Why’d you–”

You’re interrupted by his cock entering you and your legs being lifted by his hands so he can enter as deep as possible. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. His cock fits so nice and feels so good and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Fuck you’re so tight and wet for me, so fucking good huh? Letting me fuck you like this.” His pupils are so blown out, he watches his own cock pull out and start to thrust into you, it just fuels your arousal further. Buggy starts out slow, just getting you used to his size before he picks up the pace, fucking into you even deeper and faster.

“Shit, gonna cum Buggy please.” He moves your legs to prop onto his shoulders and he grabs onto your waist, pushing down and holding you in place as he fucks into you roughly.

“Gonna cum for me? Go ahead sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.” He moves his hand over your abdomen and presses down, the pressure making you feel dizzy. You feel white hot, the band finally snapping as you come. “Fuck, gonna cum soon too, gonna fill you up so good.”

Buggy relentlessly fucks into your cunt, overstimulating you and causing a pressure to build that’s unfamiliar. “Wait Buggy I, fuck I feel weird it feels good.” Soon, with a loud cry you feel a wetness rush between your legs, causing you to let out a loud string of moans and curses.

“Squirting for me already? God you’re full of surprises. Shit, I’m coming.” A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his hot cum fill you up, as promised. It feels so good. He slows down and pulls out, his load leaking out of you and onto the sheets below. “So good for me.” He whispers, leaning down and kissing you gently. He cleans the both of you up quickly and gets dressed, ready to go back to his quarters for the night.

“Wait Buggy, before you go…” You trail off and he turns around, listening intently. “If you don’t mind, can you tell me more about my- about our, past? I need to know where I came from, what happened.” Buggy smiles gently, walking up and kissing you on the forehead.

“Of course princess, later”

© Choism 2023. do not repost or translate.

[csuitebitches]

On Being Well Spoken

I recently received a request about posting something regarding being well spoken.

Something you need to realise is that you’re not going to become well-spoken overnight. You need to practice on people. You need to SPEAK.

I used to stutter so badly that I could barely speak a whole sentence.

Flash forward a few years. I pitched my start up in front of a crowd, I joined Model United Nations in high school and college, I’ve been invited to speak on my entrepreneurial experience by some top universities in my country. It’s taken a lot to get here. And I’m still not where I want to be.

1. Apps to track progress and help you get better at public speaking

An app that you can use: “Speeko.”

I used to use this, it is beginner friendly and you can improve your public speaking skills as well.

2. Use topic generators

Go online and look up a topic generator. Generate a random topic, video yourself speaking on that topic. Don’t give yourself time to prepare anything - read the topic and start speaking. Set a time limit - you’ll realise that speaking for even 2 minutes can be quite difficult at times.

Not only does this make you realise that you may have limited language skills, but it will also make you realise exactly where you’re falling behind. Note down things in a journal.

- is grammar the issue?

- Lack of vocabulary?

- Too many filler sounds?

- Knowledge gap?

This is also a great idea if you’re at an intermediate level of learning a language/ polishing a language. Do this everyday and maintain a diary on your improvement.

3. Reading out loud

Select a news article or any article. Read out loud, slowly and steadily. Pronounce every syllable calmly.

A two minute read should take 5 minutes to read out loud. That’s how slow you should go. Not more than 4-5 words per breath.

Your tongue needs to get used to different syllables and sounds. Practice will help.

4. Talk in real life

Talk to anyone and everyone whenever you can.

Ask your barista how their day is going.

Ask your work or university security if they’ve had a good day and if they ate today.

Chat with your taxi driver about their life. I always start with asking them if they are from the city we’re travelling in. Even if you’re from that city, act like a tourist. Where are the best eateries? The conversation eventually goes to personal questions. How many children do they have, and what do they do? What do they like about the city?

You’ll learn the art of small talk only through practice. No book or guide can actually prepare you. You have to practice, practice and practice.

5. Diaphragm breathing

Diaphragm breathing is very important. Look up some YouTube videos for reference. You essentially breathe from your tummy (stomach goes in and out; not chest going up and down). This is a great calming exercise too.

6. Stuttering tongue/ jaw exercise videos

These are great because they really do prep your jaw and tongue well. The videos could include tongue stretches, placing your tongue on your palette correctly, etc. Search on YouTube.

7. Body posture

You really need to work on your posture too. Sit up straight. Back, STRAIGHT. Chin up, shoulders relaxed. Something as simple as posture can change your level of confidence.

8. Pranayama

A yoga exercise for breathing. You can find a guided video on YouTube for sure.

9. Vocabulary

Invest your time in expanding your vocabulary. There’s enough apps and games that can help you with that, if you aren’t fond of reading. A sign of being well spoken is having great vocabulary.

Start by looking up the synonyms of everyday words.

“I’m upset”

- how many different words can you find for upset?

“I had a crazy day today”

- one can easily use “hectic”, “chaotic” “lively” instead

10. Idioms

Idioms, phrases, sayings - look up common idioms in your language of choice. Aim to use at least 3 new idioms on 3 separate occasions in a week while you speak. You need to understand when and where you can use the idioms in your vocabulary.

11. Knowing when to switch

You can’t talk like a 50 year old heiress to a 10 year old child; you need to get down to their level.

If someone is clearly not a native speaker and is struggling to put words together, don’t use difficult words around them.

If you’re meeting with someone high profile, refrain from using slang.

The best speakers know when to switch their level of language.

You can’t use one singular type of speaking with everyone. You need to understand that there is a time and place for everything - and you’ll be able to switch like a pro only when you actually speak and start gaining experience.