#for sure in a possessive way sometimes BUT. also just. in the sense that you’re theirs to take care of!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

metal-mouse · 1 year

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Because You're Mine

pairing: Ominis Gaunt x f!MC (m/f pairing)

themes: smut. troping tropeily. ye olde patch him up and then bang him.

warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. p in v. unprotected sex. fingering. horrendous pull out game. possessive!Ominis. someone threatens to dose you with a love potion. blood. mentions of violence. everyone is aged up.

summary: 3.9k word count. You are most surprised to see Ominis Gaunt return to you with a broken nose and a black eye from a fight. He's being awfully cryptic about who he got into a fight with, until you've finished healing him and he confesses why he's so upset.

note: Had a dream about this recently and decided to share it as a treat and also sometimes the best way to break through writer's block is to lean on the tropiest of tropes. Come get y'all juice. left MC house as ambiguous - I'm very Slytherin coded my b. i take liberties on what kind of undergarments they wear. Not an ounce of editing to be found.

@anto-pops @localravenclaw look guys i finished it

You didn’t look up from your book as the door to the Room of Requirement groaned open. There were only two people who knew of this room besides you, and as Professor Weasley hadn’t stepped foot in it since your fifth year, that left only one person.

“Hello Ominis.” You called out your greeting, nearing the end of the page. He didn’t respond, which made you look up. You dropped the book and sat up straight at the sight of him. His cheeks were pink, there was a gash on the bridge of his nose which was steadily dripping blood, and one of his eyes was beginning to swell shut. Worry filled you, as your mind went to all of the worst case scenarios for what could have caused this. You stood up and hurried towards him, urging him to sit down on the sofa you had just been occupying.

“Hello.” He said finally, in a dejected voice.

“Are you alright?” You asked, a table appearing next to you with a bowl of water and some cloths. You very gently took his jaw in your hands as you tilted his head up to inspect his wounds. The cut on his nose was deep, and now that you were up close you could see his nose was slightly crooked. His pain was very evident, and his frown likely wasn’t making it any better.

“I’m wonderful, thank you for asking.” Ominis hissed as you turned his head to get a better look at his eye. You were fairly certain his cheekbone wasn’t broken, which was more than you could say for his poor nose.

“What happened?” You asked, ignoring his irritated sarcasm. If anything, it only suggested to you that he was fine beyond the wounds on his face and possibly a bruised ego. You weren’t sure if you had the skill to repair his nose. In the last year, you’d taken to spending more time in the hospital wing with Nurse Blainey. You’d assisted her during a detention once, and she had been more than happy to show you some of the healing arts. You knew the spell… perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to try?

“I got into a fight.” He said, skirting around your question.

“Well, obviously. I would love some detail, if you’re willing to provide. When Sebastian comes around all beat up like this it makes sense, but you mostly keep your hands to yourself,” You said while taking one of the cloths and gently pressing it to his nose, “hold that. I’m out of wiggenweld, I’m going to brew some.” His hand replaced yours as he held the cloth to staunch the blood dripping from his nose. You looked down at his uniform. His shirt and tie were covered in blood.

“Is detail truly important? I was in a fight, and now I’m here.” Ominis’ voice was muffled from the cloth. You poured some water into the cauldron atop your potions station. He was usually very open with you, content to tell you all of his deepest thoughts. Somewhere deep in your mind you wondered if this fight had somehow been caused by you. He had gone to Hogsmeade today with Sebastian, and Rookwood’s Ashwinders still tried to prey on you. You prepared your Horklump juice and Dittany leaves, waiting for the water in the cauldron to begin bubbling. It was strange that he would keep something like that from you, even if he didn’t want you to worry.

“It’s clearly bothering you a lot, Ominis.” You said softly. He made an angry noise and didn’t respond. Now that the cauldron was bubbling, you added the ingredients and stirred the correct amount of times. You turned away to let it brew until it was ready, and returned to Ominis’ side. You wordlessly took the cloth from him and pulled it aside. It was drenched in blood, but it had mostly stopped the bleeding coming from both his nostrils and the gash on the bridge of his nose.

“Ouch!” He hissed as you reached up and gently poked at his nose.

“Stay still. It’s broken. Does anything else hurt?” You mumbled, climbing into his lap and holding his face steady with one hand. You fumbled for your wand, and he let out a little panicked breath and shook his head a little.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his good eye widening slightly.

“The Wiggenweld can’t straighten a broken nose. Don’t move. Episkey!” You said. He yelped as his nose cracked back into its normal position and the gash healed. You nodded in approval, pleased that the spell had worked. You’d never cast it beyond Nurse Blainey’s watchful eye.

“There. I bet you can breathe a little better now.” You said, removing yourself from his lap to check on your potion. Ominis took a long, very audible breath. You watched him as he reached up and felt his nose. He looked absolutely miserable. Your lips pressed together in a frown, it was worrying how little information he was willing to divulge.

“Have you seen Sebastian?” He asked.

“No, I thought he was with you.” You said, scooping some of your completed wiggenweld potion into a glass. Anxiety briefly pulsed in your chest, worrying that whoever had attacked Ominis had also gotten Sebastian. No. He wouldn’t have come to you unless he knew Sebastian was safe.

“He never met me. Must be with Violet.” He snorted, sounding absolutely furious with his friend. You tilted your head, making a small sound of agreement. Violet McDowell was Sebastian’s particular flavour this week after you’d forbidden him from asking Poppy Sweeting on a date. You had promised him swift and painful retribution if he had even looked at Poppy without the intent of marrying her and loving her forever.

“Here. Drink this.” You said, handing Ominis the glass full of wiggenweld. You crouched in front of him, a hand on his knee balancing him as he drank. The bruising around his eye faded, and he sighed with relief as he set down the now empty glass. You stayed crouched before him, your fingers drumming on his knee as a sign that you would love an explanation.

“You really can’t just let it go?” He asked.

“I’m sorry, I’m worried. It’s frightening when you get hurt.” You squeezed his knee a little. He let out a little sight, his frown softening.

“No, please don’t apologize. It should be me apologizing, I can see how someone arriving covered in blood would be worrying - especially for you.” He put his hand over yours. You stood then, setting your wand to the side as you settled down beside him.

“If you really don’t want to tell me what happened, please just tell me if this is going to be a recurring problem.” You said in compromise, taking his hand again. He looked deep in thought, clearly battling with his inner thoughts.

“I heard two sixth-years plotting about how they were going to slip you a love potion.” Ominis said finally. You blinked in surprise. Out of everything that could have come out of his mouth, that had been the one you least expected.

“A love potion?” You echoed. He nodded, and you admired the rage on his face. He’d fought two boys purely because they wanted to give you a love potion. You fought the smile spreading on your lips. For someone who was awfully composed, he was certainly prone to his jealous moments.

“Yes. A love potion. They’re lucky I haven’t gone directly to the Headmaster. I should have them both expelled.” He sneered. Your face went hot at the arrogance in his voice. You leaned in, loosening his bloody tie and tossing it to the side.

“You’re covered in blood.” You informed him. He wasn’t really listening to you at all, instead he was caught up in his own rage. You took that opportunity to unbutton his shirt so you could remove it and try to clean the blood off.

“Foolish, impudent worms. Gryffindors always think they’re entitled to that which is not theirs.” He pulled his arms out of the sleeves when you tugged on his shirt. He may not have been paying attention to you, but you were hanging onto his every word. That which is not theirs? That statement certainly held some heavy implications. You were grateful he’d stepped in of course, love potions were risky and you did prefer to make your own decisions.

Ominis continued his monologue, describing precisely what he had done to the Gryffindor boys for their crime. You took a clean cloth and dampened it to wipe the blood off his neck and chest. He’d been exceptionally cruel to the boys, and every word he spoke had your heart beating faster. It was becoming difficult to pay attention to your cleaning. He’d taken their threat personally, and had essentially destroyed them for it. Broken their wands, hanging them upside down from a tree, blackened eyes, he had truly done a number on them. Out of your little trio he was widely regarded as the most peaceful, with Sebastian being the most violence-prone and you falling somewhere between the two. He was incredibly protective of you, something you’d discovered even when your friendship had only just begun to bloom.

His hand closed around your wrist suddenly, and you realized you had stopped moving. You looked at his face, his hair was a mess, his cheeks were still pink, and he held an expression you’d never seen before. You were suddenly desperate to break the silence. His other hand lifted to your cheek, his fingers delicately tracing along your jawline.

“They can’t have you.” He whispered, his fingers moved down your neck slowly. Your breath hitched at this display of possessive intimacy that you had never seen before. You and Ominis had your fair share of intimate moments, but this? Never anything like this. This was an entirely new side to him. It was something you’d expect of Sebastian, the man who moped over girls he’d barely been involved with for longer than a week, but never Ominis. You didn’t know what to say. When you had first crossed that border between friendship and something more, it had been relatively laid back. You went for walks together, bought each other sweets and butterbeers from Hogsmeade, and spent late nights in each other’s arms in the Room of Requirement or the Undercroft. This change was almost as unexpected as its impact on you. You knew deep down that this should not be making you so aroused.

“Where has thi–'' You were cut off when Ominis leaned in and kissed you. You dropped the cloth from your hand as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his lap. You draped one arm behind his neck, and rested the palm of your other on his cheek with your fingers in his hair as you matched his passion. It wasn’t rough, so much as it was claiming. His cold hands pressed against the skin of your back making you gasp and arch against him. He took this opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue moving so sinfully your core was steadily aching now. You knew precisely what that tongue was capable of, and you’d grown to anticipate it. Dream about it even.

His rapidly warming fingers stroked your sides as he brought them under your front and withdrew them from your shirt entirely. As Ominis began to unbutton your shirt, you began to lightly rock your hips to create some friction between you and the bulge in his trousers. He let out a low groan and proceeded to rip your shirt open. Your eyes snapped open as you sat back a little bit in surprise, but he pulled you back against him with a single tug of your shirt. His hands went to your chest, and he let out a dark laugh against your mouth when he felt only skin. You weren’t wearing anything under your shirt. His mouth lowered and he left hot, wet kisses and little nips down your jaw and onto your neck. You couldn’t contain the small moans and gasps that tumbled from your lips.

Ominis’ tongue ran along your collar, and his hands roamed to your backside where he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up more. The hand you had in his hair shot to the back of the sofa to brace yourself. You cried out as he bit down on the side of your breast. His tongue delicately swiped out licking the hurt he’d just caused. He held you up with one arm, his other hand running along your backside and between your legs. The fabric of your trousers was disappointingly thick, and you felt far too constrained while wearing them. His hand moved to cup your breast as he swirled his tongue over your sensitive nipple. He stopped suddenly, his hands falling to your waist as he pushed you back slightly.

“Take off your trousers.” He commanded. The bark in his voice sent a wave of heat to your core. You stood up, fumbling with the buttons before finally pushing them down. He reached out and made a sound of displeasure when his hands ran over your underwear. He hooked his thumbs in the waistline and yanked them down. You stepped out of your trousers and undergarments, and Ominis checked to make sure you’d done precisely what he had wanted. He made no move to remove his trousers. You stared at his bulge desperate to see him undressed. It wasn’t fair that you were now bare in front of him, and he was still half-dressed.

“I want to taste you.” You pleaded in an attempt to get him to take his trousers off.

“As reluctant as I am to deny you, don’t you think you’ve taken enough care of me today?” Ominis’ lips twisted into an arrogant smile, as he turned you around and pulled you back. You fell into his lap. One of his arms looped around you pulling you back against his chest. His lips pressed to your neck, leaving kisses and small bites all along the smooth column. He pushed your legs open wide, biting down hard on the flesh of your shoulder. You cried out, your eyes squeezing shut at the pleasurable pain. One hand ran along the inside of your thigh, and the other stayed planted on your belly.

“Those fools think they could have this. That they could have what is mine.” His breath was hot on your neck. You whined as his hand stroking your thigh got closer and closer to where you wanted it.

“Please Ominis.” You complained when his fingers brushed next to your wet and aching center but he didn’t touch it. Your lip curled, two could play at this game. You began to rotate your hips slowly, grinding down on the bulge in his pants. Your hands covered his and you moved them to where you wanted them to be. One between your legs on your heat, the other cupping your breast. He huffed out a laugh.

“Eager, aren’t we?” He chided.

“I thought you wanted to prove I’m yours.” Now this spurred him on. Without warning he curled two fingers inside of you. Your back arched as you let out a gasp and Ominis began to pump his long fingers deep inside of you, ensuring the heel of his palm pressed against your clit while he worked. While his fingers curled against your sweet spot, you shamelessly rutted against his palm to elevate you even higher into ecstasy.

“Is that better, darling?” He asked, nibbling on the back of your ear.

“Uh huh.” You moaned, nodding your head. You wished you could kiss him. You wanted to face him and have him buried deep inside of you. You would have turned around if this didn’t feel so fucking good. There was something about him being in complete control and doing what he wanted with you. You weren’t even tied up, yet you felt useless to do anything to pleasure him beyond grinding against his bulge. There was a tantalizing pressure building inside of you, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. Ominis seemed to have realized as he pressed further into you and his fingers kept up the exact same pace. Your head fell back against his shoulder, his free hand coming up to wrap around your throat.

“Right there?” He asked. You nodded against him, unable to form a coherent thought. You writhed against him, pressing his palm hard against your clit. Your eyes squeezed shut as you fell over the edge and bolts of pleasure made your toes curl. You let out a sinful scream that may have been his name. Ominis didn’t stop, letting you ride out your orgasm on his hand until your knees clamped together and he withdrew. You were a panting mess as he gently guided you to lay on your back. You heard the sound of his belt hitting the ground, and you opened your eyes and watched him pull down his trousers. You moaned at the sight of his cock springing free, delightfully pink and large.

Ominis knelt on the couch between your knees, lowering himself over you. Impatient and greedy, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to press your lips to his. You were hungry for him, your tongue swiping over his bottom lip prompting him to open up for you. You were certain the way he tasted would stay with you for the rest of your life, so damn sweet and addicting. Reaching down, you gently wrapped your hand around his cock and lined it with your entrance. Slowly, Ominis pressed into you with a low moan. You were distracted from your kiss at the feeling of his cock filling you up. He always went slow when he started, knowing it drove you crazy. Once he was sheathed fully inside of you, he stayed completely still aside from the hand that laced in your hair lifting your head again to press a sweet kiss against your lips.

“I’ve always been yours.” You whispered as his forehead rested against yours. His eyes snapped open at this, his fingers curling so he was pulling your hair. He ground into you, and you choked on a moan. Ominis pulled out nearly all the way and slammed back into you with a husky groan. He hooked his free arm behind your knee, pushing your leg up and out of the way as he settled into a slow and steady rhythm.

“Of course you have. I fit s-so perfectly, it’s like you were made for me.” The little stammer in his sentence made your heart flutter. You gasped when Ominis rolled his hips forward deepening his thrusts. Your nails scraped across his shoulders as your mind was overtaken by pleasure and thoughts of him. The moans and small praises that came as a steady stream from his mouth paired with his cock hitting every angle inside of you had you on a high you didn’t think possible.

You arched your back in an attempt to let him deeper inside of you. Despite being connected at your most intimate part, you wanted more. You wanted inside of his heart, inside of his soul. Through your pleasure, you opened your eyes to look upon his face. His eyes were heavy-lidded with pleasure, his mouth hung open and his skin completely flushed, his hair an absolute mess. You loved it. Without warning, Ominis picked up the pace slamming into you without restraint. You dug your fingernails into his shoulders now, forcing him down to kiss you. His arms wrapped around your waist arching your back even further and changing the angle which he fucked into you. Between the feeling of his lips on yours, and his cock inside your already sensitive cunt, you were rapidly tumbling towards another orgasm. When Ominis took one hand from under you and reached down to rub circles on your swollen clit, your head fell back.

“Come.” Ominis ordered, and you didn’t even have it in you to scream this time. Ominis muttered a string of curse words as your walls clenched around him and you rose up to clamp your teeth down on his shoulder. It was almost painful how hard he had made you come, and some primal part of you needed him to share in that feeling. He kept his steady pace, not faltering once as he chased his own pleasure with a great moan. The hand that had been rubbing you clamped around your neck and squeezed. You watched him and saw in his face he was close. You met his thrusts, matching his rhythm. His chest heaved and a light sheen of sweat had formed across his body. In that moment you were certain that it wouldn’t matter if someone gave you a love potion, Ominis was all you’d be able to see.

“Yours, Ominis.” You whispered, incapable of telling him truly what you were thinking. His fingers dug into you and his grip on your neck tightened. Almost there. You watched in awe as his head dropped and he let out a guttural groan that slightly resembled your name. His cock twitched and his body trembled as he emptied himself inside of you with shallow thrusts. Ominis’ hand let go of your throat, and he collapsed on top of you. Both of you were breathing heavily, and you wrapped your arms around him holding him tight to your chest. You pressed kisses to the top of his head and he let out a wordless groan. After a few moments passed, Ominis slowly pulled out leaving you feeling empty.

“We should have conjured a bed.” He mumbled. You let out a little laugh as one appeared next to the sofa. Ominis rolled over, taking you with him so that you were laying on his chest instead of him atop of you. You knew that you should get up and probably clean yourself off, but with his arms around you and your genuine concern about your ability to stand, you were content to just stay.

“Maybe you should get into more fights.” You sighed, reveling in the lovely feelings of your afterglow. He laughed, gently rubbing your back.

“If men don’t learn how to behave, I just might.” He said. You could do without him getting injured, but if this was how he reacted when he was jealous or feeling possessive? You could definitely get behind that.

“I’ll be here when you do.” You sighed, thinking about how you should really restock on your wiggenweld potions.

“And, for the foreseeable future, I will be tasting your food and drink before you.” Ominis said, making you snort.

“What am I, the Queen of England? I don’t need a food taster, Ominis, if anything I’ll just start carrying around an antidote to love potions.” You told him.

“You can be my Queen.” He grinned at you.

“You’re not allowed to speak with Sebastian anymore, he’s rubbing off on you.” You sat up a little bit to get a better angle as you looked down at his face.

“That’s your job, Darling.”

“My point has been proven.” You smiled widely at the sound of his laughter. When you were with Ominis is when you were happiest. You were safe, comfortable, and content. You were in love, and you were his.

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt smut #ominis gaunt oneshot #ominis x you #ominis x reader #reni writes

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welcometomyoasis · 2 months

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Being Joshua Hong's passenger princess

Synopsis: The privileges you have being Joshua’s passenger princess. Joshua x gn! reader | fluff, established relationship | 1.68k words | warnings: car crash, reckless driving, alcohol (you’re drunk not him), slight possessiveness (joshua gets annoyed when people flirt), petnames (darling) A/n: this is my dream honestly… me when? Also uhm I got carried away…

❥︎ Being Joshua Hong’s passenger princess means you will be treated like royalty. You’ll be accorded privileges no one else has. You’ll be given the white glove treatment, waited on hand and foot (by him).

❥︎ Let’s start off by talking about the car itself. The car might be his, but he’s yours so by extension his car is your car? That makes total sense right? In fact, the model he bought was one you said you really liked. You can bet the car has been customised to your wants and needs.

❥︎ Joshua basically gives you free reign over how you want the car to be decorated. You can be a minimalist and keep his car fairly empty except for some car hooks and necessary car cleaning supplies. Or, you can go crazy and make his car look like a plushie store full of plushies and ornaments. Just make sure he can reach the spare tire easily (duh! So that if he needs he can show off how he knows how to change a tire… he’ll look absolutely gorgeous doing it too)

❥︎ He keeps several items in the car just for you too. There’s a little throw blanket just in case you get cold. There’s an extra pair of sunglasses in the glove compartment just in case the glare from the sun gets too much. There’s even a special headrest or backrest or plush cushion on the passenger seat for your comfort. He goes the extra mile to remove it when the rest of the members sit in his car. The members are messy okay? He doesn’t want your stuff to get dirtied because some member decided to sing karaoke at full volume while drinking coffee.

❥︎ The height of the head rest and the position of the passenger seat is tailored to suit your height and needs. No one is allowed to adjust your seat. He actually (gently) smacked jeonghan and DK when they tried adjusting the seat. It’s just too bad if the other members feel uncomfortable. That seat is yours, and yours alone. Actually, you know what? Maybe the members should just sit at the back seat and leave your seat empty…

❥︎ The same thing happens with the radio. If you like it at a certain channel or have it preset to a certain playlist, no one is allowed to touch the radio. In fact, he’ll keep the music off most of the time so that you’ll be able to start listening to the playlist from where you left off.

❥︎ Technically, the passenger should be the person who navigates the map. You try your best, but sometimes you get mixed up even with the gps. Joshua never scolds you, he’ll just laugh it off and tell you it’s okay because it’s a new adventure with you. When he’s with the members though, it’s usually poor Dino getting nagged at about how he can’t read a map to save his life.

❥︎ Obviously, Joshua is going to drive you everywhere, and I mean everywhere. Just because you have the option to take a cab or public transport or drive yourself (if you have a license), doesn’t mean you should have to resort to those options. His schedule be damned, he’ll find a way to make time just for you.

❥︎ Don’t you dare say you don’t want to trouble him. You might be a troublemaker in your own right, but you’ll never, ever be a bother/ trouble to him. He wants to drive you around. That’s his choice, and his love language. It’s acts of service and quality time all rolled into one. He’s not going to turn down an opportunity to spend time with you.

❥︎ All you need to do is let him know where you need to be, shoot him a text (he only answers your texts let’s be honest), or call him. He’ll finish up whatever it is he’s doing and then he’s on the way to you.

❥︎ When he arrives, Joshua, being the menace he is, he will 100% use a bicycle horn to signal his location to you. It’s fun! Plus, he likes the way your face morphs from momentary confusion to recognition and then happiness and love. You’ll quickly turn your head his way. He swears your face lights up (and makes the sun jobless). The way you smile at him and shoot him a wave while bounding over to him like a little bunny? It warms his heart and makes him giddy.

❥︎ The times he doesn’t use a bicycle horn are the times he either yells out your name or uses the car horn. He does it when you’re in a crowded location, drunk, or when there’s someone flirting with you. You see, in the first two situations, it’s practical to use the car horn. The last one? Oh that’s just him being possessive. He thrives on the disappointment on the other person’s face when they realise you’re taken, and by someone who drives a sleek, well-designed car. Bonus if Joshua gets to get out and pose next to the car while wearing his dark, expensive, sun glasses. He immediately wraps his arm around you and places a kiss on your cheek when you happily run towards him. See that? You’re his.

❥︎ Being Joshua’s passenger princess means you’ll never have to lift a finger right? So that means he’ll open the door for you. If he can, he’ll get off and open the door on your side like a butler gentlemanly boyfriend would. If he can’t get out, he’ll open the passenger side door from his seat. He always tilts his head upwards and looks at you with that adorable crescent shaped eye smile. Always says “Hi darling! How’s my darling today? I’ve missed you~”

❥︎ When you get in the car, he’s taking your bag/ belongings and helping you to store them at the side or in the back seat. He wants you to be comfortable. He’ll also help you with your seatbelt. He wants you to be safe. He refuses to move unless you’re safely belted up. Who cares if he’s holding up traffic. To him, your safety comes first.

❥︎ When you’re both on the road, he’s extra careful of reckless drivers because he doesn’t ever want you to get involved in a car crash. His arm instinctively shoots out across your chest/ torso when he needs to brake the car harder than normal, or when you both drive across some car crash at the side of the road. Your safety is the most important thing to him. It’s basically wired into his brain that he needs to protect you from all these horrible reckless drivers. In the event you really get involved in a minor car crash (eg, a fender bender), Joshua’s first instinct is to ask if you’re okay. The damage to his car, and the exchanging of details with the other driver (if they bothered to stick around) isn’t important. You come first. Always.

❥︎ Moving on from that more serious point. Joshua can and will drive with one hand. He knows the action makes you swoon so he does it on purpose. Also, that means one of his hands is free! Joshua will put one of his hands at the back of your head and lightly stroke your nape. He also likes to either intertwine your hands and have your intertwined hands lay on his thigh, or he likes to have his hands resting on your thigh/ lap. You get the privilege of playing with his fingers and gripping his hand tightly as you continue your journey. He’ll definitely randomly raise your hand to his lips. His eyes never leave the road, so it makes his actions even more attractive.

❥︎ Joshua is definitely the kind who will reverse with one hand with his arm on the passenger side headrest. He like smirking at you when he does that. His actions drive you crazy. You think you’re about to combust every single time.

❥︎ One of the best things about being Joshua’s passenger princess? You get to watch his side profile. His eyes that are intensely concentrating on the road. The curvature of his nose and lips, the way his hair falls down the side of his face, the piercings he always wears on his ears. Oh even the way he might bite his lip in concentration or tilt his head to stretch his neck. Everything about your view is so delicious. You could have the most beautiful scenery outside and nothing could ever compare to the view you have right next to you. Sometimes you get caught staring and the heat rushes up your face. All Joshua can do is chuckle in adoration. You’re sometimes way too cute for your own good.

❥︎ How does he know? Well, although his eyes are locked on the road, he does take momentary glances in your direction. It’s both a conscious and subconscious thing? People normally subconsciously pay attention to their loved ones even if it doesn’t register in their head that they are doing it. But he does look at you consciously to make sure you know he’s still paying attention to your conversation, he wants to ensure you’re feeling okay, and yes, he wants to catch you in the act when you’re literally drooling over him.

❥︎ At red lights, he will shift his body to face yours. This menace. This tease. Sometimes he’ll even lean over to place a kiss on your cheek, or he’ll demand you lean towards him to give him a kiss on the cheek. It leads to him getting horned at but were the kisses worth it? Totally. ❥︎ I’ve covered a lot here, but you know what the best part about being Joshua’s passenger princess? It’s the fact that you’re Joshua’s passenger princess.

taglist: @weird-bookworm @wonijinjin @babyleostuff @wishing-fieshes @kwanienies @mayashu @megseungmin @porridgesblog @haecien @mirxzii @scoupsofcherries @eightlightstar @brownsugarbaybee @zaggprincess2 @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @treehouse-mouse @vcutparis

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shadowtriovibes · 9 months

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something wretched about this, something so precious about this

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x f!MC

Word Count: 3k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), PIV sex, language kink, parseltongue kink

Summary: request: "mc finds herself absolutely taken with Ominis and his parselmouth." aka mc is absolutely taken with ominis' mouth in every sense of the word

“But you don’t even understand what I’m saying,” he counters, curious. “N-no,” you whine. « I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it, sweetheart? » he hisses. « You’re a troublesome little thing, you hardly listen to me when you can understand. »

The first time you heard Ominis speak Parseltongue, you’d found it to be almost antithetical. It had sounded so bizarre coming out of his mouth, so different from the gentlemanly manner in which he most often spoke. Yet the strength of his snakelike voice sounded somehow familiar, and the way his sighing, hissing words wrapped around you felt like sinking into a warm bath.

“It worked!” you’d exclaimed, hoping your voice wasn’t trembling. “Ominis, you possess a rare ability indeed.”

Minutes later you’d writhed on the floor in unimaginable pain and all thoughts of Ominis’ potentially disreputable talent had flown from your mind. In fact, you’d been so rattled from being on the receiving end of the Cruciatus curse that it took several days for you to recall that you were no longer the sole member of your little trio with a rare gift.

A month later you’d asked Sebastian about it while you were studying for Charms, lazily levitating stacks of books while he had been pouring over Salazar Slytherin’s spellbook.

“What does being a Parselmouth mean?” you asked him curiously.

“Means you can talk to snakes,” he replied, half listening. “Understand them, too.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know that, thanks.”

Sebastian looked up from his book with a skeptical expression on his face. “Then what exactly are you asking?”

You shrug, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t know, I just… Ominis made it sound like it was a bad thing, to be known as a Parselmouth. Like it’s given him a bad reputation. Why is that?”

Carefully closing his spellbook, Sebastian sits back and considers his words carefully before continuing.

“Well, the answer to that is right in front of you,” he says, gesturing to the tattered book on the table before him. “As Ominis said, most Parselmouths are direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin, and whether it’s warranted or not, he’s a controversial figure.”

“Sure,” you agree. “But… does Ominis speak Parseltongue much? How would anyone even know?”

“I think most people just assume,” Sebastian replies with a shrug. “His brothers spoke it, and he’s told me that they speak it more regularly at his home. Many Gaunts have chosen to keep a snake rather than an owl or any sort of conventional animal.”

You nod slowly. “Have you heard him speak it before that night in the Scriptorium?”

“A handful of times,” he admits. “Sometimes he’ll slip up if he’s especially angry or frustrated. I’ve also heard him speaking it in his sleep on occasion.”

Eventually, the conversation shifts to the spellbook and you once again forget about Ominis’ rare skill – this time for nearly two years.

By your seventh year, Ominis has learned about your ancient magic abilities, and your friendship has grown from one of rueful kinship to genuine affection. Nevertheless, he still seems to keep so much of himself guarded, even as you’ve shared so many of your worries and insecurities as you’ve grown into your role as the only living Keeper of your ability.

(It doesn’t help that you’ve fallen achingly in love with him along the way.)

These days you spend most nights studying with him and Sebastian. Usually, you’re eager to soak up the years of knowledge they’d accrued before you’d started school at Hogwarts, but tonight you find yourself distracted.

“Are you listening to me?” Ominis suddenly snaps, and you glance up from where you’d been reading the same paragraph over and over.

Ominis looks annoyed, and to his point, you certainly hadn’t been listening. You’ve both been sprawled out on the floor of the Undercroft for hours now revising for Potions. Sebastian had called it a night shortly before dinner, leaving the two of you to continue pouring over theory textbooks in preparation for Professor Sharp’s famously lethal end-of-term exams.

“Y-yes, sorry,” you stutter. “What were you saying?”

In your defense, winter has arrived in the Highlands and the stone floor of Ominis’ hideaway has cooled you to the bone. The weak flame flickering beneath your shared cauldron isn’t enough to pull you out of your daydreams about a nice warm bed, some cozy blankets, and perhaps someone to share it with…

(Someone who can whisper secret serpentine words against your skin, chasing your goosebumps lower and lower beneath the covers…)

“Again?” Ominis asks, more disappointed than angry this time. “You can’t focus on my words for a full minute before slipping into some reverie?”

Merlin, if only he knew that focusing on his words wasn’t the problem at all.

“I’m sorry, Ominis,” you whine. “But it’s getting late, it’s freezing down here, and we missed dinner…”

“You said you’d help me,” he reminds you, perhaps a bit vulnerably. “The exam is tomorrow afternoon, and my Draught of Living Death is still curdling.”

You groan pathetically and rub your eyes. “Ominis, you’re a dear friend, and I simply adore you, but you’re bloody rubbish at Potions. Perhaps we should take a break for the night.”

Ominis’ jaw clenches while he stirs his (admittedly lumpy-looking) brew.

“Ominis?” you ask hesitantly. “...I apologize if I was harsh, but–”

“Don’t,” he interjects. “Just… stop talking. Clearly, you’re no longer interested in helping me, so you might as well go back to your common room for the night.”

Sighing, you shift closer to where he sits cross-legged on the stone floor and gently rest a hand on top of his knee. You know how challenging Potions has been for him, especially lately; N.E.W.T.-level draughts are challenging enough when one can confirm that the brew they’ve already spent hours preparing has progressed to the appropriate color.

“I think you need to take a break,” you say softly. “You’re making yourself too frustrated, Ominis.”

You watch as a bit of the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders seeps away as his head hangs gently. As his fingers nervously twitch in his lap, he takes a slow, measured breath and lets his eyes fall closed.

« I need to do this correctly, even just once, » he says. « Then I’ll be able to sleep. »

You suspect he doesn’t even realize he hadn’t spoken English until you sharply pull your hand back with a gasp.

“Wh-what… did I, um,” he stammers. “I didn’t… say that the proper way, did I?”

“Well, er – you hissed it,” you say carefully. “That… that was Parseltongue again, wasn’t it?”

Ominis carefully nods. Your stomach clenches when you notice him hunch in on himself as if he’s ashamed of what he’s done.

“It’s okay!” you quickly tell him. “I, um. I haven’t heard you speak Parseltongue since fifth year, and – and I don’t understand it, obviously, b-but it’s alright if you want to use it.”

You trail off lamely and try to rest your hand on his knee once more, but he nudges it away.

“I apologize,” he says hollowly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

A wave of nausea rolls over you as you watch him duck his face and turn away from you – not so that he can’t see you, mind, but that you won’t see him.

“Omins,” you sigh. “Please, you – you haven’t scared me, I promise you.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he counters in a deceptively soft voice. “I can tell, you know. Your heart is racing, you’ve gone warm all over… You want to run away. It’s only natural, when one is frightened. I would know.”

You swallow audibly and once more attempt to rest your hand on his thigh, and this time he allows you.

“I’m not scared,” you insist, and as true as your words are, you almost wish you were lying to him.

You think it’s probably less shameful than the truth, which is that Ominis’ brief Parseltongue outburst has your heart racing with desire, not fear.

“Then why…?” he asks before eventually trailing off.

“I find it fascinating,” you tell him softly as you trace your fingertips along the seam of his trousers. “It’s… compelling, Ominis. Perhaps a bit enticing.”

“Enticing?” he repeats softly. “You feel, er.. compelled by my Parseltongue?”

You shyly shrug before remembering a non-verbal answer won’t suffice. “I suppose I do.”

The both of you are silent for several long moments. The only sound that can be heard in the Undercroft is Ominis’ sickly bubbling potion, until he finally asks you, “May I kiss you?”

You hesitate for merely a beat, just to let your mind catch up, but before you can answer Ominis repeats himself in Parseltongue: « May I kiss you? »

This time, your non-verbal answer of crawling astride his lap and kissing him yourself is entirely sufficient.

Ominis moans into your mouth while you grab the lapels of his uniform shirt, brazenly rocking against his lap like one of those wanton witches in Sebastian’s rather foul romance novels. His hands settle on your hips and he helps you grind down onto him until you can feel for yourself where he’s grown hard.

“Wh-what are we doing?” he asks against your lips.

He doesn’t sound scandalized, or even hesitant – rather, he sounds like he’s asking how much you’re going to let him get away with.

“Whatever we want,” you answer him breathlessly. “Ominis, I – I’ve wanted this for so long, we’ll do whatever you want.”

« Whatever I want? » he hisses, and you shiver in his lap. « What I want is to get you on your back for me, sweet girl. »

Carefully, Ominis tips you from his lap back onto the freezing tile, but just as quickly he gently pushes your shoulders back until you’re sprawled out on some abandoned Potions notes. Your skirt falls halfway up your legs and Ominis traces his fingertips along your skin until he finds the hem.

« Spread your legs for me, my love, » he hisses, sliding his hands up the insides of your thighs. « Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you here? »

His unseeing eyes flutter closed as his fingertips brush against the hem of your undergarments. You’re wet – you have been since he’d first slipped into those low, hissing tones of his – but now he knows it. He can feel it.

“Gods,” he groans. “You.. you really like to hear my Parseltongue this much?”

“It’s your voice,” you whimper, grinding your hips toward his teasing fingertips. “You… you sound different.”

“Tell me,” he demands. “How do I sound?”

Realizing that he likely sounds the same to his own ears even when speaking the ancient snake language, you bite your lip and force yourself to focus.

“You – you sound powerful,” you admit. “Like your voice is stronger, or… it’s like I can hear it in my whole body, not just my ears.”

Ominis wordlessly rewards you by firmly dragging his thumb down the length of your core through your panties. You melt into his touch; your skin feels as if it’s on fire now, and the very same icy stone floors you’d complained about not long ago now feel like a soothing balm against your skin.

“But you don’t even understand what I’m saying,” he counters, curious.

“N-no,” you whine.

« I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it, sweetheart? » he hisses. « You’re a troublesome little thing, you hardly listen to me when you can understand. »

You whimper and arch your back. “I m-might not understand Parseltongue, but I can tell when you’re teasing me.”

“Darling, I’ve barely begun to tease you,” he murmurs before leaning down and licking up the length of your body from your navel to the dip between your collarbones.

“Please, Ominis,” you beg.

« You’ve been distracting me all evening, » he continues. « I fully intend to have just as much fun playing with you, since you seem to enjoy driving me mad. »

While he kisses what’s sure to be an impressive bruise onto the side of your neck, Ominis slides your panties down your legs.

“I want you inside me,” you confess.

« You want the first time I take you to be on this dirty stone floor? » he asks lazily. « Are you that desperate to be fucked, sweetheart, or have I made you wait too long and driven you mad? »

You groan frustratedly as he starts to kiss his way down your body, pointedly ignoring your canting hips. “Ominis, I’m begging, please say you’ll touch me.”

Ominis presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss against your hipbone. « Don’t fret, my love. How could I refuse such a tempting offer from such a beautiful, albeit slightly mad woman? »

By the time he traces the tip of his tongue along the crease of your hip, you realize where he’s headed. An irreverent array of babble spills from your lips while you attempt to grind impossibly closer to his face, but he places his hands over your hips and keeps you firmly planted against the stone floor before he presses his tongue flat against your cunt.

If he were still speaking Parseltongue into your skin, you’d never know. Any words of praise or kindly teasing that spilled from his lips were drowned out by a litany of curses you’d never utter in front of a man like Ominis in any other setting.

“That’s it, my lovely girl,” he whispers against the inside of your thigh. « Your cunt is so wet for my tongue, and it’s even sweeter than you are. »

He’s switching between English and Parseltongue so easily that you can’t be sure he’s even doing it on purpose anymore, and you couldn’t possibly say which you prefer more. Being fully aware of every filthy word he says is a dream, but is it as delicious as not knowing what he’s saying as he utters secret confessions inches from your skin?

You don’t bother spending much time considering it while you lie back and let him lick you open. All you can think about is his tongue on your skin, pushing inside you, savoring every inch of your body while he learns you by touch and by taste.

That’s what he’s doing, after all – learning you. He’ll get you off, of course he will, but that’s not why he’s bent over between your legs with your calves thrown over his shoulder.

“Ominis,” you groan. “I need you in me, I… I need you.”

He presses a deceptively sweet kiss to your sensitive clit before he asks, “Is that so? I thought you liked my Tongue, and now it’s not enough for you?”

“Don’t tease me,” you plead. “I know you want me just as badly.”

While Ominis had been coming up for air between burying his face between his thighs, you’d been able to see just how affected he is – you aren’t alone in your eagerness, you can be sure of it.

« Right as always, you are, » he hisses. « Perhaps you don’t understand my words, but you can sense my desire, can’t you? »

He grinds his hard cock against your inner thigh to punctuate his words and you whine pathetically.

“Take me, take me, take me,” you chant while he sits back to undo his trousers and push them down just enough to free himself. You realize he intends to stay fully clothed while he takes you apart, and you shiver against the cold floor.

When he finally sinks inside, you fall helplessly silent.

Every ounce of focus you have is spent on relaxing your body, opening up for him as he buries himself inside you. He’s almost ruthless in his endeavor to fully seat himself in you despite his intimidating length. Save a few breathless not-quite-whines, you’re quiet beneath him.

« Nothing to say, darling? » he hisses at first, and then in a softer voice he asks, “Are you alright? Am I hurting you?”

“N-no, it’s good,” you moan. “Please… keep talking to me.”

“You want me to talk to you, hm?” he asks, grinding in until the flat part of his pelvis brushes against yours. « Do you need a distraction? You’re taking me so well, my angel. »

He starts to fuck you in earnest with a slow, careful rhythm to keep your bare skin from catching along the worn stones beneath your back. As he thrusts inside you, he keeps talking in that low, hissing tone. Soon you realize even his words match the rhythm of his body, rising and falling with his motions.

« Feels so good… Waited so long… I can’t stop, please don’t ask me to stop… »

His back feels feverishly warm to the touch while you drag your hands down from his shoulder blades to the back of his hips. In the years since you’d first heard the snakeline sound of Parseltongue fall from his lips, he’s grown taller and his musculature has changed into that of a lithe, well-built man. Now the strength of that voice suits the body from which it emanates, and both have combined to keep you firmly pinned to the floor beneath their might.

You cling to him as he fucks you harder. You feel so close already, tumbling toward the edge of pleasure beneath him as his serpentine words glide across your skin.

When you come around him, you hear him whisper your name in Parseltongue – it’s the same, you think, but softer, and sweeter.

« When I come inside you, » he hisses just above a whisper. « I want you to keep every last drop inside for me. Will you, my darling? »

“Ominis!” you wail.

“Fuck – fuck,” he gasps, and seconds later you feel the mess he's made inside you threaten to spill out with every slow, greedy thrust in his post-orgasmic haze.

“N-no, stop,” you whimper, and he immediately goes still.

“What is it?” he asks, his English crisp and clear.

You shift shyly beneath him and whisper, “Don’t… don’t keep going. I want to keep it inside for now, and – and when you move, it, um…”

Merlin, you don’t have the words to say you’re just as greedy as he is – you want to stay full of him, just as he’d asked in that ancient, indecipherable tongue.

Ominis presses soothing kisses to your face while you wrap your legs around his waist to hold him in place. His lips brush across your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, the curve of your jaw.

“Of course, darling,” he whispers. “I’ll stay right here.”

Then, with his lips pressed to yours, he hisses, « I’ll stay right here as long as you like. »

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis x reader #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy smut fic #parseltongue #parseltongue kink

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plleeeepppyyyy · 1 year

Text

being wally’s newest friend!

(i love this arg and hopefully it gets more pickup in the near future!! especially love wally, silly little guy.)

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

(i love this arg and hopefully it gets more pickup!! especially love wally, silly little guy.)

basically you moved into the neighborhood and wally takes notice. and is infatuated.

warnings,, wally has some tendencies of being a yandere?? possessiveness, gaslighting, possible love-bombing, kidnapping. house pretty much indulges on wally’s behavior. i actually don’t have much about house in this writing, sorry!!.,,(;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) also a little short,,?

reader is g/n. (gender neutral)

what glances see first. :)

so! you’re the new neighbor, no matter how new you are, as said, you’re still an important denizen. pretty much everyone’s gotta be talkin about you, the first one to greet you though is wally, ofc. ♡︎

at first he seems a bit zoned out? chilled out? by the tone of his usual voice and his facial expression,, you probably think he’s zooted up. but nope, that’s just how he is. he’s pretty friendly when it comes to you, he greets you, tells you all about the neighborhood, and is overall hopeful.

a good charmer too, despite his tone at first and such that made you doubt it, there’s still a way to find this man charming. i mean cmon,, look at his fashion sense, that laidback expression, he definitely looks like he has it all figured out. if you want, he’d gladly show you around the neighborhood. helping you socialize with your new neighbors, despite his short answers and such, he’s still helpful.

after this good greeting, you seem him around all of the time. with barnaby, julie, or just anyone. it could take a bit before you guys get talking normally too, whether you have trouble taking at times or whatnot. you guys get on fine, he’s a pretty likable person.

little did you know, he was the one staring mostly.

___

the friendship within, ❤︎︎

when you guys are pretty good friends, he tends to show you his paintings, and art. which are impressive and cute, he offers to draw with you. and definitely likes your company, he also shows you, “house”! which is an actual legit living object, it’s a bit weird. but, ignoring that aside,,. it’s a swell time hanging around with wally. especially if you got barnaby, or one of the others around. it creates a good dynamic.

he likes hanging around with you all of the time, whether it’s doing the most or just sitting around with you. wally really enjoys the simplicity of things, especially if it’s with you.

wally is overall a nice and sweet guy to you, charming at times. he’s definitely the guy to have around, whenever you have issues and need some assistance, he’s gladly ready to help! whether it’d be a simple thing like, deciding an outfit, he’ll help you out. (listen to this man with fashion sense, he’s got a hella good one. (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ )

he’s mostly nice all of the time, but sometimes he does get a bit blunt at times. usually to others or you, which he quickly takes back. it’s strange.. but friendship with wally is worth it!

he’s an interesting little fella to have around.

the strange thing about this.

___

around later into your guys’ friendship, you take notice of how wally is getting a bit clingier? he definitely hangs around you more, definitely more touchy. like, before he sometimes puts an arm around you, but barely he would be touching you. now though, he always finds a way to touch you. (not like that ofc,,)

he for sure takes you around and brings you around his house more, in some way he sorta isolates you from the other. he insists on you being around him 24/7.

like cmon, forget those other guys,, we can have fun on our own, together.

is what he would definitely say, he’s a bit passive aggressive when it comes to others. it should only be you and him hanging out, house insists! and house knows most, so why won’t you just stay around him?

during this period, he for sure compliments you more. like, how you’re the most to him, you’re great at drawing, doing this, that.. of course he would hype his best friend up!

he tends to give you little trinkets too. whether it’s stuff he makes, or anything he finds and just thinks, “yep, they would love this, i want them to have this.”

he feels a bit threatened whenever he sees you hanging around anyone, it doesn’t matter if it’s barnaby, frank, eddie, he just doesn’t like it when his bff isn’t paying attention to him! (ง'̀-'́)ง

sometimes he rants to house about how you don’t pay attention to him enough, and house said some good advice. so of course, he would listen to house. he starts giving you stuff, showering you in compliments, even though, it still doesn’t work.

he just adores you too much! don’t you adore him too?

why won’t you just stay with him? why can’t you just focus all on him.

he does it for you, so why can’t you the same?

he just wants to be your bestest friend ever.

____

stay with him. ♥︎

this period of your relationship definitely heightens.

wally has this great idea, from house’s help ofc. that you should live with the two of them, like roommates! just without you finding out. (yeah he kidnaps you, basically.. uh)

once you wake up, he definitely is happy. and reassures you, that you’ll be with him 24/7 now, it’s like a forever sleep over, ain’t that sweet? even if you’re freaking out, he’s patient, it must be because you’re excited!

he can’t just stay in this house alone, he needs you. he assures you that he’ll always be with you.

he’s not so sure to let you out of the house though, can’t have his bff leave and run. nor does he want you lonely, so he barely leaves the house too. when he does go out, he assures everyone that you’re just sick, sad, or need some comfort.

that’s what friends do, they’re there for each other. so, he makes sure everyone doesn’t worry that much for you. after all, you’re in good hands with wally!

that’s what at least they think, wally doesn’t give you much free will. unless he’s there ofc, best friends have to do everything together.

he still showers you in compliments and gives you stuff, but he does reach limits. if you’re too angry or crabby with him, he does have to make sure you’re not anymore!

whether that’d be locking you in a room, so you can just let it all out. or just keeping you near him, but tied up. just so you don’t hurt yourself on accident.

if you’re crying, he won’t let you be. he’ll hold you, usher and coo to you that you’re fine, he’s here. he’ll never leave.

but that’s the thing, he never will. even if you’re in the other room, the looming thing that hovers you is that he’s just waiting for you. he won’t let you go. and that’s the scariest thing possible.

so, you just have to endure the near thought of him by you everyday now. even if you don’t see him, you’ll hear him talk to house, or sing. you can’t escape, anything you do, he’ll stay.

but that’s the charm, no matter what wally will be there for you. you’re his dearest friend, well besides house. he can’t just abandon you, your his and he’s yours. the bestest friends forever, even if the others did find out wally’s true intentions, it’s not like they can’t stop him. right?

well, they’re far from that.

if he’s stuck here; he might as well be stuck here with you.

his dearest friend, the one he truly loves and cherishes.

he loves you, takes care of you, so,

why won’t you just stay for him?

if he would do it, you’d do it too,

wouldn’t you? ❤︎︎

_________________

literally this is my first time writing on here, so sorry if it’s a bit weird! also first time writing wally,, soooo yeah again sorry if he seems out of touch or smth. (╥_╥)

but this was really fun to write, i literally love this arg and this silly funky dude. i might write more for this fandom, since i love it, def need some ideas.

arg by _PartyCoffin_ on twitter and tumblr!!

(pls support them and this arg, it’s underrated as of now at least,,)

#welcome home #wally darling #wally darling x reader #platonic #with hints of some infatuation?#yandere #welcome home arg

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digital-domain · 4 months

Text

Outside

Mahito x Reader // Word Count ~6k

Synopsis: Sometimes, Mahito actually tries to make you happy. This latest attempt comes closer to the mark than any other. You missed being outside, and you feel just a little bit less trapped once you’re out beneath the night sky. For a few minutes, anyways. Before it all goes wrong. If only this stranger on the street was able to keep his mouth shut – and if only Mahito wasn’t there to hear him.

Content Warnings and Tags: Dark content. Noncon, forced relationship, kidnapped reader, extreme possessiveness, choking, hair pulling, dacryphillia, throat fucking, rough sex, discussion of drinking and depiction of drunkenness (not reader), catcalling, non-gory description of physical violence, discussion of past violence and killing, off-screen murder (also not reader but boy is it traumatizing for them). In summation: the dove is dead, do not eat it.

A/N: I - don't even know how I feel about this one. Sometimes a concept pops into your head and you just have to see it through. As always, proceed with caution <3

He wakes you up with a rough grip, shaking you until your eyes flutter open. It’s an unpleasant way to be ripped from sleep, but compared to some of the other ways he’s tried in the past weeks, it’s not so bad. His hands are on your shoulders, this time, and it’s only his hands touching you – it could be worse. Still, you feel the familiar curl of despair in your stomach, the familiar urge to turn away from the face that hovers over yours, to run away from it. But you don’t do so much as close your eyes. It’s not worth it. You know he’ll only pry them back open.

“You’re cute when you wake up.” He grins broadly, giggling at the sight of your eyes struggling to remain open. “You always look a little bit confused for a second. And your voice changes when you’re sleepy. It’s adorable.” When he leans down to kiss you, you accept it, lying still and parting your mouth to allow his tongue inside. Your eyelids feel heavy. There’s no view of the sky in this wretched sewer – you haven’t seen it since the day he dragged you down here – but you can tell that it’s still the depths of night, that you were asleep for a few hours at most. This isn’t unusual. You’ve learned that when he gets a new idea, he doesn’t like to wait.

His kiss is long, and slow. It drags the breath from your mouth until at last, after what feels like an eternity, he’s satisfied. Then, he pulls you to your feet, and holds you tight in his arms, face pressed down into your neck. “I have a surprise for you.” His voice is low, but shaking, barely containing his excitement.

You stiffen involuntarily, just enough that you’re sure he notices. You can’t help it. You think you’ve spent about three weeks here, although you can’t be entirely sure, and none of the several “surprises” he’s sprung on you in that time have been anything short of horrific.

“I’ve decided…” He pulls back, and grins into your face, still far too close for any sort of comfort, his breath falling oddly cold on your cheek. “That you deserve something extra special. You’ve been so much fun, and I want to do something nice for you. Like a reward. I thought about it for a while, and I think I came up with something good.” He tilts his head, sizing up your expression. “Ask me what it is.”

You don’t want to know. But you will, soon enough, no matter what. “What is it?”

“I’ve decided…that I’m going to let you go outside!”

Your brain churns, trying to make sense of what he’s said. “Outside?”

“Mhm! Aren’t you excited?” His smile falls as you stare blankly back at him. “You should be excited,” he says petulantly. “It’s a good surprise. Humans like a change of scenery, right? You like fresh air?”

“Yes, but”- Surely, he’s not offering you what you really want. To you, outside means freedom. And there’s nothing he wants to give you less than that.

“Oh. I get it.” He laughs, and shakes his head. “No. I’m not letting you go by yourself. I’ll be right beside you the whole time. Wouldn’t want you getting lost on your way back!”

Right. Lost. As if you wouldn’t run as fast as you could as soon as you made it to the mouth of the sewer. In any direction, to anywhere at all. If he ever gave you the chance, you would take it in an instant.

“I’ll hold your hand and everything.” As he says this, he interlocks his fingers with yours, and squeezes. “It’ll be very romantic. You’ll like it.”

His grip on your hand will be tight – even if it wasn’t, you know how quick he is, how powerful. As long as he’s beside you, you’ll never have a hope of escape. Still, as his surprises go, this is the best one so far. It’s a very low bar, to be fair, but still…

“Let’s go,” he insists, tugging at your arm.

“Now?”

“Of course!” He laughs again, like you've said something absolutely ridiculous. “You really are cute when you wake up. You get confused…”

You pause for a beat, trying to smooth out the consternation on your face. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Mhm. And it’s nice out! Very quiet. The streets are almost all empty...no one around to get in the way of the view.”

“The streets are empty because it’s the middle of the night.”

“Yes.”

You look down at your clothes. They’re an odd ensemble, a blue, mid-thigh pleated skirt and a large black t-shirt he brought back yesterday from who-knows-where. Only the third change of clothes he’s given you in the weeks since he found you. Certainly a step up from the tattered, indecent remains of the dress you’d had on that first night, and even from the other ensembles he’s collected in the intervening time – but still not anything you’d choose to wear in public. It’s a small detail to get hung up on, but you’ve found yourself latching onto small details quite often in the past few weeks. If you think about the big picture for too long, you start to feel like your brain is going to break.

“You should be excited,” he says stubbornly. “But if you really don’t want to… I can find something else for us to do. I’ve got other ideas!”

There’s nothing threatening about the way he says it. It’s matter of fact, almost genial. But that doesn’t matter. You know that you don’t want to experience any of his backup plans – your imagination is already going into overdrive, picturing what he might have in store if you refuse his offer. “No. I…I want to go outside.” You realize, as you say it, that it’s true, and not only because your fear the alternatives. Still, your voice comes out small, and it shrinks even more as you force out your final sentence. “Thank you.”

“Aw. You’re very welcome.” He kisses you on the forehead, and starts leading you away. As you follow, slightly behind him, you rediscover another one of those small details you latch onto when everything is too much: the sewer itself is oddly warm, but the floor is always cold on your bare feet. It doesn’t make sense. Sometimes, such minute observations are comforting distractions, but right now, this particular one is only adding to your unease.

After a few begrudging steps, you manage to spit out: “I need shoes.”

“Oh…of course! You should have said something before.” He releases your hand and darts away, faster than humanly possible, returning to your side moments later with a pair of black high heels you recognize as your own. “You were wearing these with your dress the night I found you, remember? I decided to keep them.”

Of course you remember. You’d kicked them off inside your apartment, minutes before he’d shown up. Had he really stopped to pick them up when he’d carried you away? The details of that night are…well. Most of them are hazy. A few are painfully clear.

“I kept the dress, too,” he sighs, as he places the shoes in front of you. “It’s too bad you can’t wear it anymore. I still have it, just in case you change your mind.”

You step into the heels, and reluctantly take his hand, wobbling slightly as you follow him through the tunnel. “I was wearing it for days,” you say timidly. “It smells.”

“It smells like you.” In the periphery of your vision, you can see his head turn in your direction. You keep your eyes glued to the floor. “The longer you wore it, the more like you it smelled. It got stronger.” His nails scratch at the back of your hand, long and harsh against your dry skin. “I guess human scents linger for a while, because it still smells like you.”

You stay quiet, as you usually do. How are you supposed to respond to something like that? There was a time when you thought he said things like this to upset you. Now, though, you think he’s just frightfully honest. He doesn’t say things to provoke you – he says things because they appear in his head, and he has no qualms about letting you hear them. Does he know that they make you uncomfortable? He must – but clearly, he doesn’t mind.

For several minutes, you walk through twisted passages. Although you can still feel his eyes lapping at your face, at your body, at the hem of your skirt, he’s silent for once, giving you the gift of uninterrupted time in your own head. You wonder how long it’ll be before he feels inclined to get you a new bundle of clothes. A set of underwear, at least, would be nice. Maybe if you ask, he’ll do it. He does seem to like providing for you, even to take pride in it, although he certainly doesn’t know how to do it properly. When he presented your most recent outfit to you, he stared at you like he was expecting something more than numb acceptance. Like he was expecting you to jump for joy, or to thank him for giving you the dignity of wearing clothes that didn’t stink. These little moments – where he seems to truly believe he's being kind to you - have been happening frequently in the past week or so, and you’re not sure how you feel about it. On the one hand, it probably means that he’s getting even more attached to you. That doesn’t bode well for your future. Then again, your future was more or less wiped away the moment he discovered your existence. You might as well appreciate the little comforts you’re provided.

“Do you feel the air yet?” He smiles, much more gently than you’re accustomed to – inviting, rather than forcing you, to smile in return. “It’s changing.”

As soon as he points it out, you feel it. It’s the light at the end of the tunnel – a stir in the dense, cloying air that gives you a faint sense of comfort. As you move forward, that light becomes physical – he leads you up a ladder, briefly letting go of your hand to allow you to climb. You scrabble up towards the light, almost losing your shoes in the process. As you poke your head over the street line, you can’t help but feel free, just for a moment. When you look up, you can see the stars above you. There aren’t as many as you’d like – the city lights render all but the brightest invisible – but it’s something. Despite everything, you’re grateful for it.

“You like it! I can tell…I knew you would.” He smiles broadly, and grasps your wrist, pulling you onto the street above the sewer. The assistance is unnecessary – but under the circumstances, you don’t mind. You don’t flinch, as you usually do at his touch. He grabs your hand, and you walk along the street together in strange silence. He’s watching you intently, as always, but he’s not talking, and that’s enough. If you didn’t look, you could almost pretend that you were alone, staring out at the open city streets and up at the sky above. What time is it, exactly? 3? 4? One of those times where no one is awake except for you. When you were alone in your home - your real home - you used to cherish being awake at such times, cherish the strange, powerful sense of isolation. Even now, stumbling along the sidewalk with this demon at your side, you can’t help but cherish it again. At least you’re outside. At least you have the stars to keep you company, and not just him.

“Thank you.” When you say it this time, you mean it, although it’s not really directed at him. He’s barely there, in your mind. You’re thanking the night air, and the sky, and the empty, open streets for the strange comfort they provide. Only now do you realize how claustrophobic you’ve been for all this time. The dim light of the sewer, the imposing walls trapping you inside – those little oppressive details have been adding to your misery. Now that they’re gone…you still hate everything about your situation, but it’s easier for you to ignore it. Easier for you to pretend, for a moment, that everything is going to be okay.

“I knew you’d like it,” he repeats. You’re sure his eyes are glowing, that he’s got some version of his crazed smile splattered across his face, but you don’t have to look. There are so many better things to look at right now.

Just as you have this thought, a shadow emerges from the intersection in front of you, perhaps twenty paces away. Under the streetlights, the shadow takes the form of a man. He’s tall, maybe twenty years older than you, dressed simply in jeans and a grey t-shirt. And, as he gets closer, you see that he’s stumbling. He pauses to lean against a battered storefront, right beside the mouth of a shadowy alley. He’s swaying slightly, and you think you see his mouth moving, as if he’s muttering something under his breath.

“I’ve seen ones like him before!” Mahito’s hand tightens over yours, voice full of excitement, as he pulls you to a halt. “It’s almost always at night…and their breath always smells the same way.” His free hand comes out of nowhere to turn your face toward him. His eyes fix intently on yours, and his finger strokes gently over your mouth. “Your breath smelled a little like that, the night I found you, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as theirs. And you weren’t walking so strangely, either.”

You don’t ask why he was close enough to smell their breath. You already know. The horrors you’ve witnessed in the past weeks have been enough to bring you to tears – both out of pity for the bodies beneath him, and fear for your own.

“The things you humans do to yourselves…” He tugs your forward by your hand, and kisses you on the forehead, his fingers slipping into your hair. Even when he pulls back, he doesn’t let go. “You’re lucky you’re done with all that now. You can’t do anything to yourself…and no other humans can do anything to you, either. The only one who can do anything is me!”

Desperate to shake his gaze away, you cast your eyes upwards, but the expanse of the sky does nothing to dispel the claustrophobic dread churning in your stomach. Perhaps it was never about the sewer itself, after all.

He releases your hair and grips your hand tightly. “You can keep walking now. I want to get a closer look.”

You walk slightly behind him this time, your other hand clenched at your side. Usually, you’d worry about how strange you might look to passersby, holding onto what seems to be empty air, stumbling awkwardly as if pulled by some invisible force. But you doubt that the man before you will notice. You can see Mahito’s neck crane as the pair of you approach. As you draw even with the man you think he’s about to let go of your hand, and run up close for a better view.

But before that can happen, the man grins at you, his burnt-out eyes suddenly finding their focus. He doesn’t meet your gaze. In fact, he seems to look everywhere but your face, in the space of a few seconds. His mouth falls open. And the inevitable words tumble from his mouth, their edges blurred. “Hey…sweetheart. Whatcha doin all alone?”

Your stomach churns. If you were truly alone, at this time of night, this would be more than enough to set off every alarm in your head, to send you rushing down the street. But right now – right now, the fingernails tightening against the back of your hand are screaming for all of your attention.

“I didn’t like that.” You turn, giving into the sudden sense of dread that commands you to look. Mahito has never sounded like this before. He’s never looked like this either. There’s no hint of a smile, no glow in his eyes. “I didn’t like that.” You quickly realize what’s wrong with the picture: he’s serious. Not the inquisitive kind of serious – the deathly kind. He’s squeezing your hand tight enough to leave crescent moons in your skin. His eyes latch onto yours, clinging so tightly that you can’t bear to look away. You gasp as, in two places, the skin on the back of your hand gives way, sliced open by his viselike grip. To your surprise, he lets go at the sound of your voice. He holds his hand up to the side of your face, only glancing at the smudge of blood on his nails before capturing your gaze once more. “You’re…you’re not his sweetheart. You’re mine. He doesn’t get to say that. He can’t…” In the periphery of your vision, his hand is shaking.

You stumble as he turns you aside, nearly crashing onto the sidewalk beneath your feet, scrabbling for purchase on his arm. For once, he doesn’t try to catch you – he barely seems aware of your grasp on him at all. The man against the wall is staring blearily, deeply confused, no doubt, by the nothing that appears to be tossing you around.

Mahito’s hand finds the back of your shirt and drags you across the sidewalk, practically hurling you deep into the mouth of the alley beside the storefront. He disappears for a moment – not nearly long enough for you to process your new surroundings, never mind attempt to escape them. In the split-second it takes for your eyes to adjust to the looming walls on either side of you, the dustbins gathered in shadowed clumps along the alleyway, and the crumbled brick inexplicably lying at the edges, your view is interrupted by a flash of movement, unintelligible, faster even than the one that carried you here, followed by the sharp thud of a body on pavement And beneath that, a sickening sort of crack. You think you heard a similar sound or two in the moment before this violent flurry, but you're too frightened to process it entirely. Mahito stands before you, facing the dark, indistinct end of the passageway. Several yards in front of him lies a huddled mass, flung across the alley and into the pavement beneath with a force magnitudes greater than the one that carried you into these shadows. It whimpers in pain, face down, seemingly unable to move.

Your mouth falls open – but even if you could speak, what would you say? Would you tell him to stop? From the half of his face that you can see, you know this would be a futile effort.

When he hears the rasp of your breath, Mahito turns, slowly. One of his hands is in a fist at his side, the other still raised in the aftermath of a brutal throw. This hand slowly falls.

You’ve seen him kill before. Three times, in real life, and several times in the nightmares that have haunted you nearly every night since. What disturbed you most was the way he reveled in it, the grin that spread wider across his face with every movement, with every pitiful sound that echoed into the night, with every deafening spatter of indistinct human mass that forced you to your knees in terror. And his laughter – that was the most hideous sound of all. That’s the one you always hear in your dreams, the one that still echoes in your ears when you wake up.

But somehow, seeing him without that smile, standing in complete silence, is a thousand times more terrifying. You blink rapidly, trying to fend off the wave of tears you can feel building behind your eyes.

He takes a step towards you. Another. One more. It’s a narrow alley – three steps is all it takes to pin you against the brick wall that stretches up to the sky behind you. His hand rises to stroke along the side of your face, to brush over your trembling lips. “You shouldn’t be crying.” He’s far too calm, the pitch of his voice lower than what you’ve grown to expect. “You can’t cry. Not for him.” Here, his voices quivers, enough to remind you that under this strangely cold exterior, he’s just as volatile as ever.

To your horror, a stray tear escapes from between your lashes. As soon as he sees it, he swipes it away, the ragged edge of his nail dragging threateningly along your cheek. “Don’t.”

You would choke out an apology, if you thought you could speak without releasing the rest of the flood. Instead, you find yourself staring silently, helplessly, as his hand closes around your throat. “You’re the most pretty when you cry,” he sighs, soft voice contrasting horribly with the roughness of his grip. His face falls into your hair, and he inhales deeply, fingers tightening against the sides of your neck. “And you’re mine. When you’re this pretty – it has to be for me. Not for anyone else.”

How lovely it would be to look up and see the stars just one more time. To pretend that you were alone for one more moment. You’re suffocating, in all senses of the word, the combination of a lack of oxygen and pure terror sending a violent, vision-blurring rush to your head. The kind of rush that makes you feel like your mind is being violently expelled through the top of your skull, forced to watch helplessly as it floats over the hollow body it’s left behind.

He kisses you slowly, almost tenderly, staring desperately into your deadened eyes all the while. Starving for some response, even as he drains the air from your lungs. When it ends what seems like eons later, he at last drops his hand, and the pressure on your neck disappears. You gulp at the night air, eyelids flickering with the exhaustion and relief of your sudden release. You tilt your head back for another mighty inhale, but it’s cut short by cold hands sliding down your neck, onto your shoulders, guiding you gently but firmly to the ground.

For a moment, the only thing you let yourself process is the rough scrape of pavement on your knees. It’s not smooth. It’s not comfortable. But you can make it slightly better, because there’s a bit of rubble beneath your left knee, or perhaps a small stone - with all too much effort, you manage to shift the weight of your body, to move your hand and swipe the pebble away. The motion leaves you staring at the ground, eyes sweeping desperately for some other small bit of something to latch onto. You don’t want to look up, because you’re all too aware of what lies between you and the sky. It’s been watching you adjust your posture. Watching you make your futile attempts to stave it off.

Mahito slides two fingers just beneath the line of your jaw, and digs in until you have no choice but to raise your face. “You’re doing better. You’re doing good…I didn’t see any more tears. And when they do come back…they’ll be all for me. Soon. I'll know...I'll know that they're mine.”

You think you hear a sound from back in the alley, where his victim still lies alive, and motionless. But when you turn instinctively, he catches you, pressing his thumb firmly into the skin over your molars and scrapping you hard with nails beneath your jaw. “Don’t!” He practically yelps, and the high-pitched sound yanks your eyes all the way up to his face. “He – he wanted to take you.”

You took me. The thought comes to your mind, unbidden, not for the first time. It will never leave your mouth.

His eyes are wild, and his chest heaves, his face an overflowing blend of overwrought emotion, anger and confusion and urgency. “You’re mine. Mine.” He shoves his fingers into your hair, and grips hard, nails scratching mindlessly at your scalp. “No one else can have you. Ever.”

From your mouth comes a terrified whimper, not unlike the sound you heard from the shadows moments before. You follow it with words, and they come out nearly inaudible, caked in the phlegm of tears soon to come. “I want to go back.”

“We can’t.” For a tense, still-aired moment, his eyes fall closed. Without their vengeful glow, he looks more dejected than anything else. He takes a slow breath. You’ve never known whether he needed to breathe, or whether he did it for some sort of effect, but in the moment, it’s serving him, somehow. The hand loose at his side closes into a fist as he exhales, and when his eyes snap open, they’re brighter than ever. The confusion is gone, and the anger has retreated to the background – only a hauntingly familiar hunger remains. “We can’t go back. I'm not done yet.” His voice steadies, and he stares mercilessly, ravenously, into your captive gaze. “I need to - make it better. Make it right."

He yanks you forward. The tension on your scalp becomes painful as you fall gracelessly into his thigh, but he rights you, pulling you into his crotch and holding you steady. The fist at his side unclenches, and falls heavily, almost clumsily onto the back of your head, pressing you firmly into the outline of his cock.

He’s already hard. You’re hit with a nauseating wave of revulsion as you feel the stiffness beneath the cloth against your face, as he drags your lips over the length of his shaft. He holds you there, drawing out the moment, as if daring you to pull away. When you look up, there’s the ghost of a familiar smile on his face – enough to send your gaze plummeting down. His hands drop from your hair, and stretch, in their distorted, unnatural fashion, all the down way to your wrists, dragging them up his thighs before placing them on the waistband of his trousers.

There’s a moment where you do nothing, holding your hands utterly still, inches from his cock. As if your inaction might be enough for him to change his mind. He’s used these moments to toy with you before, letting you draw out your resistance, enjoying the anticipation, enjoying the anger and despair in your eyes. But he has no patience tonight. His hands fold over yours, pressing them down into his waistband, and a third arm juts out from his stomach, rending through the cloth of his shirt to grasp your face, squeezing your cheeks and prodding harshly at your jaw until your mouth is forced open.

His cock springs free, and you let out a choked sob. He’s experimented with many shapes and sizes, and tonight, it’s clearly designed to make you struggle. His third hand retracts back from whence it came, leaving nothing between you and your fate.

Both remaining hands depart from your wrists and land firmly on the back of your head. He tugs you forward, forcing the tip of his cock into your still-open mouth.

You make the mistake of allowing your eyes to flick upwards. And, for the first time since that fateful moment minutes ago, you see his grin spread over his face. “All mine,” he sighs, hands relaxing where they rest upon your scalp. “All mine.” He presses forward slowly, but firmly, easing himself into your mouth, savoring each scrape against your tongue, each time you’re forced to breathe through your nose. He doesn’t stop at the limit of your comfort – he never does. He presses past the edge of your throat, lodging himself inside you, until he’s nearly cut off your breath for the second time tonight. Your eyelids feel heavy, and your eyes themselves water uncontrollably, threatening to spill over at any moment.

Just when you think he’s too much for you to take, he pulls back. But he lets you enjoy your freedom for just a moment before thrusting deep into your throat, pressing his palms so roughly against your head that you know you have no chance of escape. You sputter uncontrollably, and narrow trails of drool escape from the sides of your mouth. Your entire body shudders, gasping for breath, for a break, for a way out. But your suffering, as usual, does nothing to slow him down. If anything, it spurs him on. He thrusts into you again, and again, gradually working himself up, speed increasing with every indecent noise that manages to escape from around his cock. Your survival instincts take over, and you desperately try to pull away, desperate for a single deep, clean breath; he pushes you down, his hands a hundred times stronger than the force your body can muster.

“So pretty.” He sighs – not with pleasure, but with relief. Like doing this to you has finally set his mind at ease. “You can cry now.”

You couldn't stop yourself if you wanted to - tears drip down your cheek as he pulls you in close. So close that you choke disgustingly loudly – so close that even if you dared to look up, you wouldn’t get a clear picture of his face. So close that you feel the bile churning in your stomach, threatening to give way. For several seconds, he keeps you here, staring down at you, crushing your every attempt to struggle.

There’s another whimper from the recesses of the alley – louder, this time - but your empathy seems to have disappeared. You only wish you had enough freedom of body and mind to make such a sound.

He thrusts once more, revels in the way you gag and balk at his size. When he frees you, several seconds later, yanking you back by the base of your hair, you feel no relief. You barely have time to take that one deep breath you’ve been craving before a sharp shove to your shoulders sends you crashing onto your back, knocking the air from your lungs. He drops to the ground and crawls on top of you, pinning you to the ground as his swelling cock drags up your thigh.

”You’re too pretty for humans…and feel too good...” The tip of his cock presses hard at the lips of your cunt, and you use the strength you have to squirm away – until your shoulders hit the wall behind you. “They don’t deserve to have you.” He drags you towards him, and you don’t resist, if only because you don’t want to know how it feels to have your skull slam against solid brick. Your lips, recently sealed shut, part once again as his cock forces you open. For as long as you can, you keep quiet, trying to deny him the satisfaction of hearing the reaction he can already see. But you can only hold out for so long. In real time – the earthly time separate from the years that pass in your mind – it’s barely seconds. He’s molded himself to stretch you open, to stretch you beyond your limits. And he knows those limits well enough not to fail.

His entire body seems to shudder with anticipation. "Come on. I know you can sound pretty, too. Don't hold it back."

You obey, a fresh thrust of his cock forcing a sob from your mouth. His growing smile warps into a full, overbearing grin, a grin that you don’t dare shut out by closing your eyes.

He fucks into you recklessly, sloppily, again and again, and his hand falls upon your neck once more, threatening to tighten to the point of no return. “See? It’s – it’s so nice when you cry for me.” He squeezes – whether it’s intentional or a sign of his failing control, you truly don’t know. “Isn’t it? Isn’t it nice?”

“Yes.” It’s a rasp, hissing out between sobs, and it’s the most painful lie you’ve ever told – but between his hand at your throat and his cock buried deep inside you, what choice do you have? Your mind floats fuzzily above your head once more, abandoning your body to hang on for dear life.

“Good.” He exhales blissfully, innocently, his pure, all-consuming pleasure at odds with the cries of pain and despair you hear emanate from your mouth. “I knew it…still like to hear you say it…”

He’s babbling – and, you realize, with a fresh wave of despair, so are you. “I can’t…please…”

“Soon.” His hand inexplicably releases your throat, and furls into the shadows, arm extending far longer than it should, to the point where you wouldn’t be able to see the tips of his fingers, even if you dared to look away from his face to watch them. “Almost…”

When you finally allow your eyes to close, he doesn’t notice – his head is already thrown back, and somewhere in the alley, yards away, his fist tightens. Hard.

The bile rises in your stomach all over again. For just a moment, you’re lucid enough to realize what he’s doing. And you can’t stop him.

He falls over you and gasps heavily in your ear. His cock pulses, and your eyes snap open against your will, mouth parting instinctually as you feel the all-too familiar shock of his release.

It aligns cleanly with a sickening splatter, exactly where his hand fell into the shadows.

“There.” He buries his face in your neck, and his arm retracts back into view. His hand, oddly slick, brushes up your forehead and through your hair. “All done. All better.” He doesn’t seem to notice the dry heaving of your breath, the uncontrollable shaking of your arms and legs. Or perhaps he does. Perhaps he’s enjoying it. Perhaps he thinks it’s a good thing. “A happy ending…you humans love those, don’t you?”

You’re beyond words. Lacking the strength to speak, the will to move. The only thing that’s working is your mind, and you wish it wasn’t. You wish it would abandon you again, instead of shoving its way back into your head. You don’t dare look back into the depths of the alley, but you know what you’d see if you did. Something transfigured, ruined, mangled – dead. It’s not your fault. It’s Mahito. All him, all him, all this suffering at his hands…and yet, you’re the only one who’s falling apart. Of the three who came into this alley, he’s the only one who hasn’t been destroyed.

“Don’t worry.” He raises his face, smiling gently into the ravages of your expression, carefully wiping a tear from your cheek. “We’re never gonna do this again. We’ll never hear anyone talk like that again." He laughs - laughs. "Not him...but not anyone else, either. I’ll keep you…I’ll keep you away from it all. Keep you all to myself.”

Your back is still pressed to the ground, skull resting uncomfortably upon the hard surface below you. There are still stars in the sky – just a few bright ones, strong enough to penetrate the city lights around you, but they blur before your eyes. Far away, they fade into nothing, pinpricks compared to the blinding glow of the manic gaze bearing down upon you.

Mahito rolls you onto your side, and you stare numbly into the street as he wraps his arms tightly around your waist. Your arm is trapped beneath you, pressing harshly into the asphalt, but it doesn’t matter. You barely notice at all. All you can feel is him. All you can hear is his breath, unsettlingly even and quiet, and his occasional hums and sighs in your ear.

You know this won’t last long. That once he decides he’s done, you’ll be dragged back to his home, perhaps never to emerge. It’s horrifying, but you’re too numb to feel that horror just yet. You can’t bring yourself to mourn for the outside, the world you’re about to be torn away from. Not yet. Not now. And perhaps not ever. Perhaps it’s best if you never see the stars again. Best for Mahito, best for you – and best for anyone who stumbles into your path.

#tw dark content #tw noncon #tw violence #tw murder #tw yandere #jjk mahito #mahito #mahito x reader #jjk x reader #dead dove fic

427 notes · View notes

ovaryacted · 3 months

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hi baby i just wanted to ask for ur thoughts on like.. how leon likes being touched and caressed and stuff! like kisses on his shoulder over the scar where he got shot, a gentle but possessive hand on his thigh, rubbing his back as you hug him, lightly dragging your nails against his scalp, running your fingers through his hair, etc <3

OMGG, hey boo <3. Of course, I’d love to talk about how Leon likes to be touched, especially because I headcanon him as someone who is touch-deprived and wouldn’t beg for touches but he would crave it. I also didn’t choose a specific version of Leon for this answer, it’s more like a general perception of how he’s receptive to touch, but if you want to pick & choose which one fits a version of him best, feel free to do that! Hope you like it! :)

For the most part, Leon is a big fan of being touched gently and with consideration. He’s been through so much shit, body slammed, squeezed, pummeled…the general consensus is that Leon has been put through the wringer. So to be touched like he’s made of porcelain reminds him of his humanity and helps him remember that not all touches are violent or threatening.

He likes feeling your hand cupping his cheek, running your thumb over his cheekbone in soft swipes. It brings back fond memories of how his mother used to do the same after a long day of playing outside, wiping the dirt away from his face with a gentle smile. He’ll nuzzle his face towards your palm, wanting to bury himself into your warmth and never leave.

His favorite thing to do is probably cuddle for two reasons: one, he gets to be as close to you as possible, and two, he gets to be warm. He doesn’t mind being the one who holds you on top of him, but he likes being the one to lay on your chest or be the small spoon. It makes him feel like he’s being babied, using your chest as his personal pillow and wrapping his arms around your waist. You felt like an oversized teddy bear, pressing his nose against your neck so all he smelled was you, easing his senses and calming him down.

While he is resting on top of you, you’ll run your fingers through his hair, pushing his bangs back and doing it repeatedly like a tide against the shore. The touch makes him hum happily, purring like a cat when your nails rake down his scalp and towards his neck. You’d squeeze his nape, moving your hand up to make sure you got every part of his head and releasing the pressure he may or may not have. He likes it when you run lines up and down his back, outlining the curve of his spine and coming back up to trace or scratch the top of his shoulders. His body would be completely lax against you, closing his eyes and starting to doze off with ease.

If you want him to completely knock out, you’ll run your thumb over the bridge of his nose and eyebrow, pressing into his temple before moving to do it again. You could also rub the outer shell of his ear, sometimes it will tickle but usually it makes him feel good. It’s a trick that works on babies, literal babies, and somehow it also worked on Leon because once you did this, he’ll be out cold in 3 minutes flat. He’d think you’re some magician, that you’re doing witchcraft on him to give him the nicest 50-minute nap of his life. He usually has such a hard time falling asleep on his own unless he’s on the verge of collapse, but you make it so easy for him that he just lets it happen.

Cuddles and napping aside, there are other ways you show your affection by being physical with him. Coming up to squeeze him from behind, you’d give him kisses on his neck and keep your hands on his stomach. Sometimes it would make him blush, and most times it makes him smile, but he always likes waking up a little bit earlier in the morning so you can do just this.

Out in public, he likes it when you hold his hand or squeeze his arm as you’re walking with him. It’s like you’re showing him off to the world, showing everyone that he’s yours and he belongs to you. He especially likes it when you’re sitting next to him at dinner and put a hand on his thigh, giving him a faint squeeze and keeping your hand there. It short circuits his brain, and if you’re at some work event or having dinner with friends, it makes the small act of possession even better for him.

When you’re both alone, you’d give him a sneaky smack on his ass when he has his back facing yours, either doing laundry or washing the dishes. You’ll do it when you’re passing by him, your hand lightly tapping him and walking away as if it were nothing. Better yet, when you give him a squeeze on his rear it makes him flustered, rolling his eyes and trying to hide the way it makes his cock twitch.

As for the touches that make him the most vulnerable, it definitely involves his scars. He wouldn’t mention them outright, his scars would just be something you see and don’t mention again because you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. But after some time of dating him and getting comfortable with knowing how he acts and behaves, he’ll let you trace and kiss over every single scar on his body. Every bullet graze, scratch, or faded bite will be touched by you, and in a way, it’s like you’re kissing away his pain.

You’d carefully run your thumb over the most significant scar on his shoulder, kissing it over and over again and feeling Leon shudder underneath you. Whenever you do this, you see Leon for who he is, accepting all of his flaws and trauma, and acknowledging his pain and survival. You’ll remind him that he’s strong, that he’s enough, and that he’s human, things that he often doubts and never has time to appreciate himself. It’s moments like these that he’ll fall apart above you, being more open and vulnerable than he’s ever been in years, but he’s no longer scared that you’d run away because, in the end, you choose him and you’re here to stay.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #ovaryacted asks #₊˚⊹ ♡ ─ prettygirlcore ✨

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worldlxvlys · 5 months

Note

please can you do an headcanons with Chris dealer🫶🫶 ily

dwb! chris headcannons

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: some are nsfw (don’t read if it makes you uncomfortable), cursing

a/n: ily too <33

yeah i made some nsfw cause be fr. y’all were gonna ask for nsfw ones anyway.

SFW HEADCANNONS

- when you first met, it genuinely was just regular customer and dealer interactions, until it wasn’t. once one of you gave in to the tension, there was no going back.

- chris is big on pda ! hand holding, ass grabbing, passionate kisses, the whole deal. it’s sickening for others to watch.

- you know this man calls you “ma” and “baby”. argue with the wall.

- secretly has lists of the things that you like in his notes app, but he’d never admit it.

- this man won’t let you pay for shit. you’ll have a fresh set of nails, a new protective style or haircut, eyelashes and eyebrows done without having to spend a penny.

- he has a very hard time saying no to you, you have him wrapped around your finger.

- this man does not play around when it comes to you, he will do anything necessary to keep you safe.

- he doesn’t like the idea of you having any other dealers. it’s not necessary.

- he absolutely does not like the thought of you with anyone else. you are his girl. you aren’t a possession, you’re a person. his person.

NSFW HEADCANNONS

- “ass man” this, “titties man” that. fuck that. if it’s attached to you, he’s obsessed with it. end of discussion.

- he doesn’t care if you’re plus sized or skinny, he loves you either way. especially your body. small tits, big tits, stretch marks, collarbones, fat ass, flat ass i swear this man does not care. you’re drop dead gorgeous to him, and he’s gonna make sure you know it.

- the minute his head is between your thighs, he’s gone. he loves the way you taste and he’s not stopping until your thighs are shaking and you physically have to push him away.

- he can be rough, but he also likes to take his time with you sometimes. he doesn’t want you to feel used, he wants you to feel loved and appreciated.

- this man is a switch. i don’t care what none of y’all say. he can be very dominating, but when he’s under you? he’s whining and whimpering, shaking and trembling, crying and twitching for you. he loves being in control but he also loves that his girl can take care of him and put him in his place.

- getting high together always means sex. if there’s weed involved, self control goes out the window.

- no man has ever made you feel the way chris does. every orgasm is intense and mind-numbing. the intimacy that fills the space between you two as he looks in your eyes is overwhelming. his arms wrapped around you fill you with a sense of safety and security. he’ll always be there for you.

——————

i love dealer chris

dwb! chris masterlist

main masterlist

lmk what y’all want

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @frankeelovesthesturnio @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @soursturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo

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kyushiblast · 4 months

Text

⤷ 〝 jealous much? 〞

➞ pairings : grusha , arven , & jacq ( separate ) x gn! reader

➞ summary : how they react when jealous.

➞ genre : fluff

➞ cw / other : nothing

➞ a/n : need requests y’all

❝ grusha ❞

— ♥ the incident of his career hadn’t just affected him physically, a mental toll was in state along with it including his bit of possessiveness for you.

— ♥ he can’t help it. after all, you’re on his list of most cherished. and as cheesy as it sounds, he’d hate losing someone so precious to him as he’d lost his occupation.

— ♥ so when he sees this person shamelessly hitting on you, of course he’s going to step in and say something.

— ♥ glaseado mountain has a few forms. sometimes calm, sometimes sharp and unforgiving as if mad at the people climbing its skin. grusha’s cold persona towards the person embodied that.

— ♥ would probably threaten to pokémon battle. just because he’s an ice type gym leader doesn’t mean that he’ll just have ice type pokémon on hand every time, so he’d most likely use varieties including those you’ve traded with him.

— ♥ he’ll be levelheaded as much as he can until the other person initiates a snap or an aggressive show, but either way in the end he’ll definitely come up to you and ask if you’re okay.

— ♥ expect a brief hug after, and maybe a few kisses or two. he’s not too big on pda, especially if some people come by to watch him battle and he’s waiting for the area to clear up.

— ♥ but the best part is him being in denial about being clingy afterwards. that’s when teasing him is essential.

❝ arven ❞

— ❀ he’s the type to be suspicious and accusatory first, ask later.

— ❀ will cross his arms and be sassy. maybe something like, “is this person bothering you, (y/n)? i can deal with ‘em.”

— ❀ when he’s jealous he’s obvious. he’ll pull you in more, scowl and throw sarcastic comments at the other person, and he’ll suggest to go somewhere else.

— ❀ WILL throw in a regular pokemon challenge to the other if it gets to that point. like might as well make it a tradition or smth to go up to someone and challenge them whenever lmao ,, wait that already happens

— ❀ arven would also grasp onto your arm or sleeve subconsciously, afterwards backing away and apologizing after the person’s gone for just grabbing your arm.

— ❀ “i hate it when people just keep persisting on someone even when they’re obviously taken…” arven would sigh, “…but hey, it means you’re hot stuff if people keep coming to take you away from me!”

— ❀ then he’d offer to go on a picnic or something, whatever you’d like. he’s just glad that you’re there with him, no matter what.

❝ jacq ❞

— ☾ the other person isn’t gonna take jacq seriously. i mean, he does look like he just woke up, with his laid back attitude and ruffled clothing. but the charm in it was something you could admire, and clearly the other person didn’t see that.

— ☾ he’s a lil irritated. not just because this person’s competing against him, but also because they have a solid chance.

— ☾ they looked better and dressed better, they were smooth with talking, and in no way did jacq feel as if he could compete properly against them.

— ☾ you seemed to sense his thoughts, holding his hand comfortingly. his heart, as if a weight was pushed off of it, immediately lightened.

— ☾ THEN he had the confidence to say some things. and after you both left the scene, a semi-heartbroken person left behind, he’d kiss you on the forehead thanking you for everything.

— ☾ sure, it was just a small scenario that doesn’t hold much significance in one’s eye. but it strengthened your relationship in the end, and as dorky as it seems, it mattered.

— ☾ jacq’s a good person. he just needs you there to remind him of it. give him one compliment and he’ll pay back tenfold.

work of kyushiblast , please do not translate , copy , or repost here or on any other platform !!

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sleepyhutcherson · 2 months

Text

batman!mike schmidt headcannons

part 2 | masterlist

pairing: batman!mike schmidt x gn!reader

tags: pervy!mike (watches you get undressed), jealousy, stalker, overprotective, spit kink, choking, being fucked from behind, inspired by pattinson’s batman — 18+, NSFW

author’s note: mike and pattinson’s bruce >> they are literally the same person (in some ways okay?) also i have smut blurb of batman!mike that i’ll probably post to end off my little batman!mike series <3

batman!mike who from the moment he sees you become utterly obsessed with you.

batman!mike first saw you when he was dealing with some men that were attempting to rob the diner you were working at. luckily, you weren’t at the register, but you were there. after dealing with them, his dark eyes met yours for a brief moment. he stared at you, eyes focused on you and you swore you saw a softness to the brown eyes before he left.

batman!mike who researches everything about you from that day on. of course, he goes home to research you in his cave, getting every ounce of information about you: i mean, he also needs your home address to watch over you, duh!

batman!mike who starts showing up outside the diner you’re working at just to…watch you…to make sure you’re not in any kind of danger.

batman!mike definitely keeps a diary but doesn’t write in it too frequently. but once he encounters you he starts writing in it more — you’re mainly what he writes about.

batman!mike is possessive. he’s not really aware of it, honestly. whenever he sees you on the phone or with someone laughing and smiling a little too much for his liking it ruins his day. like literally. he’ll sulk the rest of the day trying to find out who that person was that was making you laugh and smile so much.

batman!mike who sneaks into your place while you’re working just to look through your stuff. he feels a sense of guilt being in there without your consent…but he just wants to get to know you better! he wants to know what your interests are, what books you’re into, what you write about in your journal, how your room is decorated, etc.

batman!mike wears black eyeshadow (like battinson), it’s smudged and messy but it looks so good on him. his pretty brown eyes complimenting the makeup so well.

batman!mike who watches you undress from your window once you get home from work. it’s not a one time thing either. by now he has your bare body memorised.

batman!mike who huffs and groans while he’s fucking you.

batman!mike who likes to fuck you from behind with his hand gripping onto you hair as he thrusts into you roughly.

batman!mike who will force you to look at him as he fucks you from behind, you turn around and watch as he becomes a groaning mess behind you, he tells you to stick out your tongue out for him to spit in your mouth.

batman!mike who — despite literally showing up at your window to fuck you — will not show his face to you. not yet. meaning he leaves the mask on at first.

batman!mike who makes you suck his fingers. he needs you to coat them with your spit before inserting them inside of you.

batman!mike isn’t really submissive, you probably won’t hear him whine but on those more stressful nights you’ll hear him whimper while he’s burying himself deeper inside of you, his hands wrapped around your neck.

batman!mike who will jerk off to something of yours if he isn’t able to go see you. like it can be anything: underwear, a bracelet of yours — anything.

batman!mike who will stay up late to rewatch playbacks of his day that he recorded through his contacts lenses just to see you. over and over. sometimes he’ll jerk off while he watches.

taglist: @cancelledkaley @stanheights-boyfriend @jhutch-bf @laurrrelise @joshfutturman @gryffindorsblog @obsessivemuso-withnofriends @helen-on-earth @fallingboba @cassiecasluciluce @maticka — love you guys xx

also idk if it’s just me but i cant tag certain of you that asked to be tagged :( im sorry, if anyone knows why let me know please <3

#batman!mike schmidt #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson fanfic #mike schmidt x you #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt comfort #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson fluff #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson smut #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt angst

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secretly-dum · 1 year

Text

Joel Miller Headcanons

(please read warning/contents before reading)

pairing: joel miller x reader

request: none

summary: nothing, just some ‘regular’ headcanons

warning/contents: romantic SFW and NSFW hcs (part 1?)

additional notes: here you guys go <3 I’m so sorry for being demotivated but fortunately not enough to not do this!! Thank you all for being patient with me <3

«──────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────»

In a relationship with Joel (SFW):

-Would be so possessive around you in public, his hands would HAVE to be somewhere on you, to having your hand hold his to having his shoulder touching his.

-He’s soft in private, this man is TIRED of life and just wants you to be his cuddle buddy.

-Talking about cuddles, he LOVES to cuddle, especially when it’s cold and he needs to “warm up”(an excuse to sleep with you)

-But of course since this is Joel we are talking about, he acts ignorant and pretends that he doesn’t like cuddling(mostly because he doesn’t like showing his soft side to you, so reassure him that you won’t make fun of him for that)

-One time he needed to “warm up” so he slept beside you not touching you at all and when you woke up his leg was over yours and his arm was wrapped around you(he also refused that it was himself doing this and said that he ‘moves’ in his sleep).

-His love language is definitely words of affirmation and physical touch.

-He is SO deprived of both, if you even show an inch of both his heart literally just melts.

-PLEASE play with his hair, seeing his face hide his cute smile is so heartwarming.

-Uses so many pet names to refer to you, you can’t even count anymore, and some of them don’t even make sense(he called you ‘honeysuckle’ once).

-Will do anything in his way to protect, heal, and love you. This one guy is bothering you? All of a sudden he’s gone. You have a horrible wound? He’s stocked up with medicine immediately. You like figurines/toys? Will kill anyone and anything to get you a single figure/toy.

-Is more of a listener than a talker, he loves listening to you talk about your day and interests.

-Goes to you or Ellie every time he has free time, you guys are LITERALLY his world.

-Forces himself to understand confusing concepts of your interests if it means interacting with you.

-Hates it when you’re sad since he’s really not the best comforter, doesn’t know what exactly to do when you cry so he just holds you while you cry into him, it somehow works making you feel better every time.

-Goes to you and tests out his 4 dad jokes before telling them to Ellie, you always have to hold in your giggle when he’s trying to tell the jokes to Ellie.

-You and Ellie’s needs are in front of his, he could be on the brink of death but still do anything in his way to make sure you both are healthy and safe.

-Secretly thinks of you as Ellie’s parent, and sometimes makes up cute scenarios that make you all three look like a small family in his head (this hc makes me sob)

-At the start of the relationship he was hesitant to showing/expressing his feelings, but now since boundaries are set and he’s more comfortable, he will always tell you whether or not he’s feeling negative.

-Watches you as you sleep but not in a creepy way, he always have thoughts that make him think you’ll die in your sleep so he��ll stay up an extra few minutes to make sure your safe. He loves how comfortable and dreamy you look.

-If you make something for him, whether it be a joke or not, he’ll always keep it on him. You gave him a nut and made some stupid joke? It’s on top of his dresser with other things you and Ellie have gave him.

-Definitely gives you something back, if you keep it and he sees it somewhere he smiles so hard his cheeks hurt.

«──────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────»

In a relationship with Joel (NSFW):

-I don’t care what ANYONE says this man is a switch who prefers to be a bottom.

-Despite him being strong physically and emotionally, he’s always so vulnerable and obedient to you.

-Won’t do any slapping, choking, and hitting to you unless you ask/tell him to, but nevertheless he will lightly hit you, feels weird to hit his lover.

-Will be quiet if you guys are in a slightly unsafe area, but will scream your name if you guys are in either his or your home.

-Did I mention how he won’t slap, choke, or hit you unless you ask? You can do all three to him and he’ll still say thank you (one time you asked him why he won’t do the same hitting to you and he said “It’s not the same” 😭)

-Whimpers and whines like a bitch, it’s incredibly pornographic and I’m wondering to this day who taught him to make such angelic noises.

-Begs and obeys, can’t be brat unless you catch him on a real bad day or he just wants a punishment from you.

-Doesn’t do any risky stuff like getting you pregnant or hurt but will gladly let you fuck him in a spot that could get you guys caught.

-If he’s being dominant, he will be a soft dominant, Joel once said “he loves you too much to be doing such ‘harsh’ things to you” (unless you ask him to!)

-Pussy AND cock drunk, he’s addicted to you and your pussy/dick. Would be licking/sucking you for hours if he could (bisexual!joel is real).

-Overstimulation kink, which goes for both ways if you want. He loves it when he says he can’t take it anymore and you say he can.

-Your touch lingering over his body has him so turned on, the anticipation of how you’ll touch him turns him on so bad.

-Loves it when you mark him, bites, hickeys and etc. If you mark him on somewhere visible, he’ll show it off like a trophy.

-Likes bondage, seeing you all tied up and the curves of your body being more visible to him has him in a chokehold.

-He tells you that you taste so sweet and good, even if you haven’t showered that day(let’s be honest barely anyone showers in TLOU anymore)

-For some weird reason, seeing you sweat or have someone else’s blood on you turns him on a lot. Something about seeing you like that makes him want to fuck you right then and there.

«──────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────»

#joel miller #joel miller headcanon #joel miller headcanons #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x male reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #sub joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal

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bloodblanks · 1 year

Text

punishment

ft: eyeless jack, masky, hoodie, ticci toby, jeff the killer, ben drowned, slenderman

author's note: this fanfiction will contain dark content, including abuse, violence, gaslighting, kidnapping, ‘yandere’ tropes, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

eyeless jack

jack isn’t that much of a sadist.

that much.

however, he’s still not someone you would want to risk upsetting. not in general, but especially not as his captive. because while he doesn’t enjoy it that much, he still enjoys it far more than he likely should, far more than you would want him to.

but why wouldn’t he?

how could he resist the soft whimpers that’d leave your lips as your eyes watered up, starting to fill with the tears that oh so delightfully trickled down the sides of your cheeks at the sight of his blade? how could he resist the way you’d cry out, gasping and hissing as he ran it along the surface of your skin, occasionally applying a bit more pressure for good measure? how could he resist the delectable scent that’d overwhelm his senses, the scent emanating from the precious droplets of blood that would start to bead up in thin, carefully carved red lines? how could he resist the shudders of your body as you trembled in fear, squirming in place but unable to escape as he pressed his tongue along your freshly made wounds? how could he resist the feeling of you flinching reflexively each time he licked at the injury, greedily lapping up every last drop?

that’s right—jack’s idea of punishment is to bring out his favourite and most signature instrument, the scalpel.

not only is it a highly effective way to remind you that you’re at his mercy and that alone, but it’s also undeniably delightful for him, with the way that he can indulge in both your reactions as well as the taste of your blood that would drip out with each precise incision he’d make.

but sometimes, that wouldn’t be enough. sometimes, you’d really misbehave, pushing the limits of his patience.

in those cases, then he’d show you just who, or what you were messing with.

he’d do everything he did to you with the scalpel, but in his demon form.

he’d strap you down, nice and tight against his operating table, make sure you’re unable to move an inch, and then he’d lick his lips, with all three of his forked tongues as he showcased the row of shark-like fangs he possessed.

the fear in your eyes when he did so—he couldn’t get enough of it.

but that wouldn’t be the end of it, oh no, he had a lot more planned in store for you.

he’d rake his razor sharp teeth against your delicate skin, easily slicing it open. he wouldn’t cut too deep with them, because he was only just beginning. he was saving the best for last, after all.

he’d have his fun, scratching you up like a lottery ticket as you tried helplessly to struggle against your bindings, anything to relieve the pain you were experiencing.

but when he’d eventually tire of it, he couldn’t help but then bite down, plunging each of his fangs inside the tenderness of your flesh, sinking his teeth in as deep as he could, listening to the sound of your screams echo in the empty operating room. screams that gradually quieted down into choked sobs as he finally pulled his teeth out, drinking up the blood that had streamed down the sides of your body and spilled onto the metal table.

of course, when he eventually finishes, he’ll make sure to disinfect every wound of yours, whispering words of praise, comforting you as he undoes your bindings, even though you’re too exhausted and tormented to even want to move at that point.

“i know, i know it hurts.”

“you’ll be okay soon.”

he’ll kiss away your tears, bandage you up with such gentleness and care that you’d struggle believing that he’s the same person as the one that had mercilessly mutilated you mere minutes ago.

because in those moments, he’ll almost seem like a guardian angel, but that would be nothing but a façade.

a façade masking how much of a monster he truly is.

masky

things are very simple and straight forward with tim—you misbehave, you get hit. easy as that.

tim is violent and impulsive and very much does enjoy hurting you. it doesn’t take a lot to anger him, especially if it’s along the lines of disrespect. tim has a short fuse, and his horrible control of his own emotions combined with his sadistic nature makes him more than dangerous to upset.

although, it was more than that. tim also is a control freak, he wants to assert his dominance and he wants you to know that you have absolutely no power, and no choice. it’s either his way or…

or he’ll backhand you across the face, knock you to the ground, before picking you up by your collar just to throw you across the room and slam you into the wall behind you. or he’ll wrap his hands around your fragile little throat, and squeeze all the while you’re desperately clawing at his wrists, prying at his fingers as your vision turns hazy—he loved your feeble attempt at trying to stop him, it only made him feel more powerful. or he’ll rough you up with his switchblade, slicing up the surface of your skin, or just holding it to your cheek and threatening to mutilate your pretty little face.

his favourite was easily the belt though. he’d use the metal end.

there was nothing more delightful to him than having you face the wall, hands pressed to the cold cement as he struck you with the belt, angry red markings instantly appearing on your skin from the impact.

he couldn’t get enough of your reactions. it only spurred him on more whenever you’d cry, and he’d make that blatantly obvious, telling you how much it just made him want to continue. but holding back your tears wasn’t an option either, because then it’d just make him want to beat you until you finally broke.

there was no winning with tim.

sometimes, if he hadn’t had enough after all the physical abuse he’d inflict upon you, he’d starve you or deny you access to water. if you hadn’t already been begging him to stop hurting you earlier, you’d start now, pleading for him to please just give you something to eat or drink. he loved the power trip he’d get from seeing you kneeling in front of him and apologizing and begging for him to just have mercy on you, just this once, desperately promising that you’ll never do whatever it was that you did again.

tim loved the look of you chained or tied up, and sometimes he’d make sure that you couldn’t move an inch if you had dared upset him. it wouldn’t matter if your arms or legs were cramping, if you couldn’t feel your fingers anymore from the blood flow being cut off in your wrists, he didn’t care. if anything, he liked it.

but sometimes he’d purposefully leave you untied, just so he could watch your pathetic efforts at defending yourself. oh, his favourite was watching you try to crawl away from him and escape.

he had no problem just leaving you there, curled up in the fetal position and crying after he was done with you, but eventually, he’d return.

he’d return, and he’d cradle you ever so gently in his arms, taking your smaller fingers in his own and clutching them tightly, or cup your face with his hands. and then words and excuses would start pouring out of his mouth.

“oh, princess, i didn’t mean to hurt you, i shouldn’t have.”

“i just can’t help it, it’s just so hard when you misbehave.”

“i want to be good to you, i really do.”

he’d never say the words ‘sorry’, but he did intend it, still.

hoodie

brian is fairly different from the others. his idea of punishment isn’t violent, nor a result of anger.

to him, it’s done out of necessity.

during usual circumstances, brian would tend to spoil you. surprising you with cute presents, buying you nice clothes, allowing you comfortable bedding and luxurious shower products, the list goes on.

since he treated you so well usually, he wouldn’t need to hurt you initially. instead, he’d first revoke all the privileges that he had so graciously allowed you.

you’d go from strawberry cake and fine wine, to water with a piece of stale bread. from nice, long, hot showers, to a five minute limit and a bar of soap. from chocolates and roses to well, nothing at all.

it was truly a shame. after all, brian wants to spoil you, he enjoys treating you well, he does his best for you to be happy and feel loved. but sometimes you don’t always get to do what you want, and he realizes that. sometimes he’d have to enforce punishments on you, and even though he loved you, he would have to hide it temporarily behind a mask of apathy, the once warm energy he’d give off disappearing.

and it’s jarring, the change of attitude he’d have, enough to usually scare you into regretting your actions.

but if it doesn’t?

that’s when everything changes.

brian isn’t a sadist, he wouldn’t ‘hurt’ you, so to speak.

instead, he’ll deprive you of your senses. he’ll keep you locked up in your room, with nothing but a bed and a thin, flimsy blanket. you would be free to move around within there, still, but you wouldn’t do anything besides sit in bed.

why? because he’ll rob you of your sight, putting a blindfold on, covering your pretty eyes. he’ll put in earplugs, eliminating any sound from reaching your ears. he’ll switch out your once diverse range of tastes with nothing but bland, vanilla meal replacement drinks. enough to keep you alive and well, but not enough for you to actually feel like you were eating.

and just like that, he would leave you like that for hours, sometimes even days. still, that wasn’t too bad; you could endure that. but if you did, if you persisted and refused to behave still, then he’d see no other option but to keep it up for longer, from days to weeks to even months if you dared to resist.

not that you would, because the both of you knew for a fact that you couldn’t handle it.

brian wasn’t sadistic, no, but he couldn’t deny that he found satisfaction in watching you finally break, watching apologies tumble out of your mouth, pleading for him to forgive you and allow you to go back to normalcy.

ticci toby

patient, violent, sadistic, unpredictable. toby embodies every quality of someone you wouldn’t want to anger.

toby was already keen on hurting you even if you hadn’t done anything wrong. he wouldn’t do it though, he figured it’d lose effectiveness if he just tormented you for no reason at all. so then instead, he’d wait. he’d patiently wait like a vulture ready to devour its prey, patiently wait for you to mess up, make a mistake.

as soon as you did, you’d instantly regret it, and if not, he’d make sure to change that.

toby was volatile, and he enjoyed switching things up, so that you would never know what to expect as punishments. and therefore, you would be unable to prepare for it, either mentally or physically. not that any amount of preparation could really help with what was to come next.

there are times where he’s feeling relatively nice, and he’d be happy just to tie you up, chain you to the wall until you couldn’t feel your extremities anymore, and your body would go numb, falling asleep. however, he isn’t usually feeling too kind, and more often than not, on top of just restricting your movement, he would take away your basic needs, refusing to feed you, give you water, or even allow you to shower and bathe yourself. but none of that was as enjoyable to him as it was to injure you, striking you across the face, pulling your hair, beating you purple and blue.

it would always be random, though, or at least that’s what he’d want you to think. how bad your punishment was depended on multiple things—his mood, your reactions, the colour of the sky that day. really, you never knew.

he was cruel, it was more often than not when you thought that you had gotten away with it or that your punishment was finally over, that he’d do the worst to you. which also happened to be the most delightful to him.

there was nothing that toby loved more than breaking bones. everything about it was euphoric for him, from the sickening crunch of the joint to the screams that would escape your lips, and the way your pretty face twisted in absolute agony, it was nothing but pure bliss.

his favourite? the fingers.

he’d take his time, snapping each one of them so torturously slow all while cupping your tear-soaked cheek with his other hand oh so gently, oh so lovingly, whispering sickly sweet words into your ear.

“oh, doll, this is for your own good.”

“if only you just behaved…”

“you know i’m only doing this because i love you, right?”

toby also enjoyed psychologically tormenting you, when he’s not telling you things like how all you needed was to be a good girl for him and he wouldn’t have to hurt you again, he’s hissing threats through his teeth, speaking of all the abhorrent things he’ll do to you if you repeated the same mistakes. ranging from cutting out your tongue so that you’d never be able to talk back to him again, to sawing off your legs so that you wouldn’t even be able to dream of escaping, to lending you to masky and hoodie and letting them have their fun with you.

the last one, though, was the only thing he said that was an empty threat, not that you would ever know.

still, though, if there was one thing for certain, it was that you were his and his alone.

jeff the killer

unlike most of the others, jeff doesn’t do punishment for the sake of remodelling your behaviour. while that was a pleasant side effect, he mainly does it because you misbehaving would anger him.

don’t get me wrong—jeff does like his darling fiesty. he likes it when his darling puts up a fight, trying to struggle or escape from him, and even more so if she retaliates. he finds their efforts to be thoroughly entertaining, even cute, the way one would watching a baby animal try to bite, but only able to gently nibble on your finger. after all, jeff knows he’s stronger, more powerful than you. any fight you put up being merely child’s play to him.

so in that regards you’d be lucky to be with jeff, seeing as he wouldn’t be upset and punish you for what many of the others would.

however, that didn’t mean you could get away with anything, because there was one thing that upset jeff more than anything else.

rejection.

for a psychopathic serial killer, jeff is surprisingly sensitive. it’s probably because of the trauma he suffered through, but he doesn’t take rejection well at all.

so if his darling acts cold towards him, in ways such as refusing to speak to him, or look at him even, that would anger him greatly.

and jeff isn’t good at dealing with his emotions. he’s almost like a teenage boy in those regards, rather than an adult. he’s immature and temperamental and explosive. and usually, he tries to run away from his feelings, hiding them behind a cold, hard wall of apathy. but then there’s you, and you made him feel more than he could handle.

so, he’d snap.

he’d be quick to lose his temper, and slap you across the face, or pick you up by the collar and slam you into the wall behind you. he usually wasn’t too heavy on the physical abuse, instead he preferred to take out his favourite weapon, the knife, and hold it up to your throat. he preferred to drag it along your jawline, trace it alongside your cheeks, all the while telling you how pretty you would be with a smile just like him.

he liked that he could scare you, and he loved your petrified expression, your pretty eyes widening in horror and your bottom lip quivering as you pleaded for him to stop, as you desperately apologized, saying sorry for your behaviour.

he never felt too good for it afterwards, though. when the initial pleasure of seeing the tears running down your face and your frail frame trembling in fear wore off, he’d be left feeling surprisingly guilty for what he had done.

but jeff wasn’t good with feeling guilt, either. he’d try to ignore the feeling, but you could still tell in the way that he acted that he felt sorry.

he’d be quiet, surprisingly quiet for the next while, and far less aggressive or touchy as usual. he’d mostly leave you alone to do your own things, and he’d only return to normal once he felt like you had recovered from what he had done.

that was the only way he knows how to express that he’s sorry, but it’s not like you could really ask for more.

ben drowned

as far as violence goes, ben isn’t too bad. he’s not the type to easily get angered or upset, but if you did frustrate him, he won’t exactly be too understanding either. still, he’s not the type to carelessly dish out punishments; he has a sadistic edge to him but prefers to play around rather than do any actual damage.

but if you insisted on testing his patience, you’ll quickly find yourself strapped to a table, tied down with whatever cables that he could find, with a cloth over your face.

that’s right—ben’s favourite form of punishment was waterboarding.

not something that would surprise you, though. it’s quite fitting of him, if anything.

pouring the water over the cloth, and knowing that you were experiencing the horrible suffering that he had once gone through, it was satisfying for him. but what he liked more, was removing the cloth, asking you if you wanted this to be over with, and watching you furiously nod your head yes, tears dribbling down your cheeks and merging with the water that was already splashed over your face. oh, nothing satisfied him more than when you apologized, begging for him to stop the torture.

but if you were still adamant on misbehaving even after the waterboarding, then he’d switch tactics.

perhaps he could just continue the waterboarding for longer, but he didn’t think it would be that effective, nor did he want to risk actually injuring you somehow. although the biggest reason would just be that he didn’t have the heart to prolong the torment, because while there was some satisfaction in it for him, it wasn’t enough to justify how much pain he was putting you through.

and so, he’d turn to isolation. he’ll keep you tied up, then throw you into a closet or some other small space, leave you in the dark with nothing to do or anything to ease your mind with.

he’ll also threaten to forget to bring you water, or feed you, but the most he’ll do is deprive you of it for a day or two, just enough to scare you.

he wouldn’t want to do it, but if that wasn’t enough, then he’ll keep you isolated, keep you tied up. he won’t speak a word to you, the most interaction you’ll ever have is just him putting pieces of bread in your mouth, and letting you sip from a water bottle. your body would be sore and cramping, and your mind would eventually fall to loneliness and boredom.

he’d keep you there for as long as he needed to, but it would be both a relief to you and to him when you conceded, and he could finally let you out.

slenderman

slender is a gentle soul.

he’s older, more mature. over the years, he’s learned how to control his temper. unlike many of the others, he’s not prone to violent outbursts, nor did he have a penchant for sadism. while he is known to be ruthless, he showed you a different side of himself, a side different from the ones he’d show his proxies or other victims, a side he reserved for you and you only.

and that side he showed you was loving, it truly was. he did everything in his power, which was quite vast and all-encapsulating, to treat you well. to make you happy. to provide you with everything you could ever want.

which was what made it all the more frustrating for him when you decide to act up, to be disobedient, to lash out at him.

because slender could tolerate a lot. even outside of his relationship with you, he was generally quite patient, but his love for you made him tolerant and understanding on top of it, too.

he understood, he really did—he had known from the beginning, even before taking you that this wouldn’t be easy on you. that this would be difficult for you, that it would take a lot of adjusting to and getting used to. so he really did take it easy on you, he tried to provide you with as much care as possible without suffocating you; he knew you were still confused, still uncomfortable, still afraid.

but there was still a line. there was still a line that you shouldn’t cross, and if you had crossed it, if you had the audacity to overstep despite all his efforts to keep you comfortable and safe—

then he’ll have no choice but to react accordingly.

and then all of a sudden he’s no longer kind and compassionate, no longer warm and loving. he’s cold and ruthless and the special treatment you once received from him was over, the side he reserved for you was gone.

he’d be an entirely different person to you.

and you’d be no different from one of his typical victims; your head is throbbing, static is ringing in your ears, clouding your vision. you’re bent over coughing your lungs out, blood dripping from your nose.

he’d pray that this would be enough. that this was the extent he’d have to go to for you to understand not to do it again.

but if you still chose to repeat your behaviour?

then you’d start forgetting.

it’d be mere minutes at first. then later hours, and eventually days. just like that, entire chunks of time, entire events would be missing from your mind. although slender did keep the limit to a week, any more than that and he’d be afraid that he’d permanently scar you. but he would make sure you were aware still of just what the consequences of your actions entailed. he’d allow you access to a calendar, or even just subtly hint at the time that’s passed, the time that you don’t remember at all.

and it’d scare you, just like it was meant to do. the fear of the unknown was a primal, powerful fear, and god knows what you had done, or worse—what he had done to you during those times that you no longer remembered.

the fear of the unknown was a primal, powerful fear, one that would keep you from ever repeating the same mistakes again.

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dodje-melai · 5 months

Text

Can we talk about how fucking sweet Hobie would be in a relationship?

He’d treat you so well every single moment he’s with you. He’d never treat you bad and would always make sure you feel appreciated and wanted.

You guys probably wouldn’t have an official title to your relationship because Hobie “doesn’t believe in labels” (he’s joking when he says that), but everyone who knows you knows that you two are basically dating. However, if it matters to you about putting a label on your relationship with him, he’d be totally cool with doing that. He wouldn’t mind you calling him your partner publicly, and he’d love to do the same with you.

“I don’t mind puttin’ a label on us, luv. Whateva makes ya happy.”

Hobie would treat you almost daily with handmade gifts, or gifts he bought from a small family-owned shop, or something he just stole from a corporate-owned store if it’s something you really really want. He’d also treat you by taking you out, mainly to cool places that he’s found while swinging around. He’d also take you out to concerts by either stealing tickets or sneaking you in.

“‘Ey doll, got us sum tickets to a band ya like.”

“What? Hobie, these tickets are crazy expensive! How the hell did you buy these?”

“I ain’t ever said I bought ‘em.”

And sometimes, if he thinks you’re tough enough for it and you’re willing to go, he’ll take you to riots with him. He’d hold your hand or your hip or just anywhere he can so that he doesn’t lose you in the crowd. He makes sure that nothing bad happens to you, which his spidey sense makes it easier for him to do so. Though if you were to somehow get hurt he’d feel guilty for letting that happen, and he’d patch you up and make sure you heal properly.

“Hobie, I’m fine. I just scraped my knee—“

“I don’t want ya gettin’ an infection, dove. The road’s dirty. Now quit squirmin’, I’m tryna disinfect it.”

Aside from gift giving and quality time, Hobie’s other love language is physical touch. He loves to hold you, kiss you, touch you, anything that involves being close to you. He’ll hold your hand or your hip while walking, and he’ll either hold your waist or slip his hand into your back pocket while you’re standing together. If you’re sitting, he’ll always have his hand on your thigh. Always. Sometimes he’ll even try to sit you on his lap if he wants to be extra close to you.

“Mm… c’mere babes, I wanna be closer to ya.”

“Hobie, I’m literally sitting on top of you. I can’t get any closer.”

“Yes ya can, you’re just not tryin’ hard enough.”

I think a very important aspect of being in a relationship with Hobie would be effective communication. Yes that’s important in all relationships, but it’s extremely important for him especially. He always wants to be aware of what’s too much for you so that he doesn’t cross any boundaries, and if he did, he wants you to feel comfortable enough to tell him what he did. He hates the thought of miscommunication ruining your relationship.

“Darlin’, I can tell somethin’ is wrong. Ya can tell me anythin’, ya know that yeah?”

Hobie is undoubtedly a very loyal partner. He would never even think of cheating on you. You’re practically his everything at this point. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost you; it doesn’t matter how he loses you, any way would be devastating. In turn, he trusts that you are very loyal too. He knows that you’d never cheat on him or flirt with someone else. Why would he date you if he didn’t trust you?

“Ya know I trust ya mo’ than anyone, yeah?”

Hobie doesn’t get jealous or overly possessive. He knows you’re his, there’s no need to consistently flaunt that. Besides, it’s fun watching you tell people that are flirting with you that you’re not single. But if some bastard wants to keep flirting with you after you’ve made it clear that you’re taken and uninterested, then he’ll step in and put that bastard in their place.

“Oi, fuck off mate. They ain’t interested in you.”

Something important about Hobie is that he’ll never lie to you. He keeps secrets, but if you find out about something and confront him about it, he’ll tell you the truth. Even if the secret you found out is that he’s Spider-Man.

“Hobie, this is a serious question, so I need you to tell me the truth. Are you really, genuinely Spider-Man?”

“Yep, I am. You’re a smart one, dove. How much snoopin’ have you been doin’ lately?”

“…I swear to god if you’re messing with me right now I will punt you.”

“Not jokin’. I’m a hundred percent serious, especially ‘bout ya bein’ very smart.”

Basically I think being his partner would be nice :)

#hobie brown #hobie x reader #across the spiderverse #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hobie x you #hobie headcanons #hobie x y/n #hobie my beloved #hobie brainrot #spiderman atsv #atsv #atsv x reader

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sordidmusings · 7 days

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WIP Snips!

This is a scheduled post I'm setting to weeks ahead as a threat to myself to get something more substantial done. If this makes it to post then I have failed in that 🤡 (Checking in on it now with only a week and a half until it posts and no closer to that goal of something actually fully finished with no dice so whoops 🥴). Or I’m MIA who knows at this point but we can hope lol

Some of these will be more substantial than others - sometimes it means I have more done but largely it means that I think the piece has something more worth showing. There's tons that aren't on here which just goes to shows my abismal lack of control on the AuDHD in general but especially right now 💀 Ranges from actual sections to summaries. Listing these all out really shows how I'm little more than a smut peddlar 🤡🥴 There is some SFW on the docket so there's that lol

Hopefully you enjoy a little finger food buffet - we've got Buggy, Croc, Doffy, Law (some also ft Shachi and Penguin), Corazon, Shanks, Mihawk, Nami, and the series pulls in Beckman, Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Koby. There's canon and some AU.

Organized by character except the themed series, which is at the end. Like I said, there's many in the works that aren't on here but this shit is big enough lol

Eat up ٩꒰ ˘ ³˘꒱۶~♡

Buggy

The Hat Stays ON NSFW

Snippet:

“I told you, you need to relax”

“How am I supposed to relax when- ahh fuck, baby, pleaaaaase don’t stop.”

“When what, Bugs?” you goad. You watch with glee as his eyes flutter shut at your teasing grip on the head of his cock sliding over him in small swirls. He sinks a little lower into his seat and spreads his legs just that much wider.

“When they’re gonna kill meeee,” he whines, half for fear and half for pleasure. His gloved hands paw deeply into your thighs in search of comfort.

“They wouldn’t dare,” you grumble and loom over Buggy even more possessively.

Sensing you closer, he cracks his eyes open below his furrowed brows to take you in. The protective violence that mixes into your expression to fully bind to your hunger makes him feel split in two. One piece of him is flung towards warmth and safety, knowing you really would try clawing and shredding your way through the other two for him. The other half of him shrinks to a shivering speck under the threat in your eyes looking down on him and giving him a taste of what it would feel like to be your prey. He shivers at the safely anxious and dangerously addictive feeling, cock jumping hard in your grip.

Your scowl turns into a smirk as you quickly pick up on his train of thought. Oh your sweet, beloved clown needs time being weak and possessed? You’ll happily oblige.

Your free hand moves from the large pool of red fabric at his waist to trail teasing touches up his torso, rewarding you with a show of his muscles jumping under your fingertips. When you get to his collarbone, you jerk your hand up to firmly grip his jaw. Buggy gasps, staring at you with wide eyes, fully showing off the way his pupils were overtaking that beautiful sea green of his. “You’re mine,” you growl to him an inch from his face, forehead touching the front of his hat, staring fiercely into his eyes. You can feel his pulse pound harder against your index finger. “And I protect what is mine.”

Scare Actor AU NSFW

Original notes in somewhat coherent paragraph form then a bulleted play by play (ish) of the first part where he's more in the headspace of his scare actor role. This one'll really give an idea of how my notes for things process lol

Original notes:

Buggy is a scare actor at a circus themed haunted house/corn maze for the Halloween season - he wouldn’t tell you that sometimes the other employees would come back here to smoke for their breaks. He was absolutely positive that this was worth losing the seasonal gig. He was also pretty sure his friends would watch instead of stopping anything. They were freaks after all and not just the sideshow kind. He’s ashamed to admit that the idea of Shanks walking in on him for once had his cock twitching.

(Slow up because you keep hearing rustling) You slowed you me hips down so that he could hope to respond. He actually whined at you. A few sharp pats to his cheek got his eyes opened and watching you. The hazy look in them had you clenching and him leaning his head back again with warbling moan. “Hey, no, look at me!” His head lolled back forward and you were greeted with a very grumpy expression. “You’re sure that no one comes this way?”

He was sure that he’s never been more turned on in his life. The way his heart skittered each time he’d test the waters with you and you allow it was beyond addicting. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he never felt that again.

Buggy hastily jerked off his jacket before noticing his opportunity. When he was sure you were looking, he flapped it dramatically and gently laid it out like a server preparing a fine table. He finished his little gag with a flourish of his arm and a deep bow. He was rewarded with your giggles. “Such a gentleman. Did they offer hospitality courses in clown school?” “Only as extra curricular.” Something about him getting down between your legs or smth “You must be an overachiever” “Just very eager to learn” (him referencing earlier mention of not having a lot of experience)

Struggling cuz like it would also be hot for him to be actually scary and threatening. Maybe there’s two interactions, the first one being actually in the horror house and in that one he’s feral and still in his character but the second one is where they sneak away to the corn field and he’s much more in his own personality. First one is him ‘forcing’ the reader to blow him (mostly about her doing things for him?) while in the field they have longer penetrative sex.

You try to ask for his name for the second time but he says he hates his legal name (hinted family issues??) and everyone just calls him Buggy now.

Part 1:

Reader finds joy in scary places instead of fear, they are exhilarated by the haunted house that is terrifying everyone else

Buggy is a murder clown actor there and you caught his eye, half attraction to you physically and half attraction to your responses to the house (he feels curiosity and also comradery for it and finds your fear giggles and laughter addictive)

He makes sure to tail you around the whole property even though he was supposed to be sticking to his own section

He does want to see what you’d look like actually scared - just for a moment like creeped out then jump scare not like actually scared for your safety

He makes sure you start seeing him out of the corner of your eye and know that he’s following you around

He corrales you into a back area (with help from Shanks - bless up to the wingman) that was closed for the night

Once you’re there is when he shows himself more again - you saw him well and a lot in his actual area but then only in tiny glimpses after

At first he won’t respond to you to be intimidating, but eventually he does talk

Through the interaction you notice he is following the no touch rule religiously - even moving back when you lean into him - so you bring it up

He slightly breaks character or moreso breaks the 4th wall - mentions that he’s playing a role (and that he thinks you’re enjoying it as much as him) and there are rules that he needs to follow

Important check in!!! - when rules are mentioned he says that its for safety and that all the scares are only fun when they are supported by safety - it emphasizes that he wants to push and tease you but you are not in any actual danger

He somehow manages to keep the on edge and aggressive mood going through tone and body language and pacing around and toying with you despite the actual words he’s saying being quite kind

You ask if you play a role too if that means he can touch you (say directly that you want to touch him and he almost goes for it before the complete check in)

He asks what role you want to play

You say, “cornered victim who tried to escape”

He responds, “Oh darling, but that’s what you are” and the game is on

Starts by grabbing you in easily escapable ways or lightens his grip immediately when you pull against it to ease you both into it and to really make sure that you are also furthering the scene

You get to your knees and palm at his thighs and that’s when he starts getting fully into his role again

Somewhere in the blow job when he’s getting pretty close you decide you want to feel chased and cornered again so you pull back, kiss his tip, give him a wink, then bolt off

He screams after you and immediately begins chasing you

*Find a way to have reader knowingly stay in back areas but don’t really want to run out to the woods - want to stay in run down building environment

It doesn’t take him too long to get close but you manage to hide (hiding pretty quick could be how you stay out of public area and away from other employees - maybe mention earlier that Shanks also wingmanned by clearing employees out of that area too or that the closed off area is bigger than I originally imagined)

Have short scene of him moving around the room and taunting you with all the things he’s going to do with you once he finds you

When he does get you he picks you up (easily) and carries you to a nearby table

While he’s placing you down, you manage to slip away again but this time he catches you after only a few steps

“Guess I’ll have to fuck you into the floor like the little bitch you are”

Similar to prone bone, has you very arched and mostly clothed still (hot and also helps keep your skin from being rubbed into the concrete floor)

Definitely have the whole thing be real feral but also have very small moments that show he’s making sure you don’t actually get hurt - stuff like putting his hand between your head and the floor, changing positions of limbs around if he notices the discomfort in them growing, nuzzling/pressing into places he’s hurt/marked (kissing over them would be too nice)

Of course the fact that he’s making sure your pleasure is as prioritized as is reveals the underlying equality to the dynamic

He pulls out when your getting close and plays it like its a punishment but it’s actually because he was about to cum in you

You whine at him about it so he makes fun of you for enjoying being caught and begging for your attacker

You beg him to use you and he folds easily so you end up sucking him off to finish him

He switches to heavily praising

He shoves you down and eats you out until you cum

After talk!!! - roles completely fall off and you both act really relaxed about the situation - you’re more in charge with leading things afterwards tho

Buggy asks if you want help, you respond that you wouldn’t mind if he got your pants back up over your ass but you think you gotta lay for awhile

You pat the spot next to you for him to lay down, he stares at it for a moment (the floor do be kinda dirty) before he decides “fuck it” and lays down

You roll your eyes at the fact that he laid on his back and even his arm isn't brushing yours so you roll onto your side and snuggle onto him, he seems unsure of what to do

“You’re gonna lay here and cuddle me until I’m ready to move. You have no say in the matter.”

After you say that he melts into it and pulls you closer and to lay more comfortably

Cheek on top of headdddd

Y’all talk awhile

Wanna address The Nose, cuz he can’t be born with that nose in our world - definitely some is part of the costume but maybe he has a crooked nose he hates from it getting broken a few times in scraps when he was a young teen

TLC Massage pt 3

Snippet:

You reveled in the feeling of rough stubble changing to soft skin as you slowly rubbed your cheek across his, from jaw to nose. When your cheek met the side of his nose, Buggy flinched again. The hand on his opposite cheek held him steady, enough pressure to comfort but not enough to control. You followed the path of your cheek with the tip of your nose until it met his. Keeping the contact, you brought your lips forward to press next to the corner of his lips. The soft skin against your lips twitched and you heard a shaky exhale. When you tilted your mouth back away, Buggy chased it by tilting his jaw towards you.

Buggy was thinking so many things that none of them fully registered. Gods, he wanted to kiss you. It was a wish unfolding right in front of him, one that felt so surreal it left him stuck between reactions. There was delicious, bubbling anticipation shooting through his veins, but anxiety was hot on its heels. In his mind your kiss was perfect - had you imagined the same? How could he ever measure up to a fantasy? Did you even think of kissing him before or was this some flippant fancy to enjoy affection for affection’s sake?

You turn to hover over his lips, making your noses brush again. This time, Buggy pushed harder into your opposite palm.

“No?” you asked in a whisper. He felt the word form against his lips, just barely a touch. Instead of answering, he took a deep breath, so you pulled back just far enough to look in his eyes. A thousand shades of blue and green flickered through them with thoughts and feelings just as numerous. You patiently held steady and pet his opposite cheek. Finally, he answered, “I don’t know.”

You gave him a nod and a reassuring smile, letting him release some of the tension cording his muscles. Moving steadily so that he had plenty of time to turn back, you placed a lingering kiss to his cheek before settling yourself back on his chest.

Buggy couldn’t gain the courage to put his hands back on you. He felt beyond ridiculous; you must think he’s some pitiful loser for being scared of a kiss. Well it wasn’t the kiss - it was the inevitable rejection that he remembered was coming every time you touched his nose. Feeling like he should hide away from you, Buggy kept his arms spread on the bed and his head turned away.

Sir Crocodile

Bonding Exercises (Request) NSFW

Summary:

You and Sir Croc have worked together for a long time, feeling even longer due to the way you wrestle each other for control in your partnership. You would've dropped your work with him a long time ago if it weren't for the fact that together you produce exceptional results and you can't pretend that he doesn't have the skills to back up his confidence and pigheadedness determination. You hate to admit to yourself that you also stick around for the respect and attraction that has grown right alongside your frustration. You know that the attraction is at least mutual - Croc started out subtle but now he does little to hide his wandering eyes and the way his hand yearns for you. The touches stay all in the realm of cordial and platonic, but there's a weight to his palm on you and a lingering that both of you allow to slip well past polite timing. Your frustration with each other seems to grow right alongside everything else though and work is getting harder and harder due to your shortened temper guarding fragile feelings and Croc responding in kind.

With all this in mind, you grab the hand that's found more and more of a home on your skin to capture Croc's burning gaze and proposition him: why not indulge in your attraction and get the passion out that way? You'll both have clearer heads and he'll get a chance to prove that his aura isn't compensating for something. He falls for the bait quick, barely giving you enough time to enforce your golden rule: kissing above the neck is only for someone who loves you.

Snippet:

Even with your foggy mind, the blazing trail he's trying to sneak over the corner of your jaw is obvious. It seems that he's having just as much trouble keeping his sanity through the sweet onslaught of the slick glide of his cock working you open. The hand you had pawing at his solid shoulder snaps to fist in his hair. He cuts off his deep groan with a curse, not wanting to let you know how the feel of you tugging at his hair makes his eyes roll back. The jerk interrupting his steady thrusts and the eager jump of his cock pressing into your plush walls was more than enough to clue you in. You use your grip to guide his ear to your lips.

"What did I tell you?" you reprimand, voice honey and venom in one. Your tone and the humid little puffs of breath caressing his ear pull a full body shiver from Croc. You tighten your legs around his waist to wring out more closeness, relishing the muscles in his sides fighting against the meat of your thighs. "You have to love me first."

A shaky breath escapes Sir Croc, as his temple brushes your cheek. Then, as if lightning struck through him, his muscles tense and he dives deeper into you with a punishing thrust. Though faster and more forceful, he clearly knows what he's doing; these aren't the sloppy motions of a fresh dom clinging to control. These are smooth and precise in their unrelenting thrust and grind to touch every piece of you and remind you of all the strength laying in wait to be used. The threat of it and the covetous way he plunges into you has your muscles going pliant in his hold. The heavy shove of his thick tip across your electric nerves to punctuate each thrust has you hiccuping to chase your breath.

"And how will you know? Words are cheap," Croc taunts against your own ear between the increasing pant of his breath. His smooth, deep rumble turns to a forceful growl with his next words. "How many have lied to claim the prize of your lips?"

Give Them an Inch ft. Mihawk NSFW

Summary:

You wake up mildly confused between Croc n Hawk. You'd spent the night talking and drinking with them and hoping that the two shrewd men would notice your little hints that you desperately wanted either of them to finally claim you. The most you got was occupying the same bed, but it seems that that may be because there was a preference for you to be sleep-fogged instead of buzzed.

Snippet:

Croc is waking up more with each motion of yours and you realize he’s truly amongst the living when he noses his way up your neck and blows gentle cold air across your ear. Your shiver and goosebumps earn a quiet, rumbling chuckle from him. The way you can feel it shudder his chest against your back has pleasure tingling through you.

“Good morning, little lamb,” he whispers, lips brushing the skin of your neck before placing a light kiss right behind your ear.

Now that really throws you off guard. The only way his lips have touched you before was in his usual greeting: a soft hold on your hand and a bow to kiss your knuckles. Never has he treated you to anything so intimate. He continues to do so, now trailing his lips to brush down your neck and across your shoulder. He retraces that path with firmer and firmer presses of his warm lips against your skin. The whole time his fingers continue to pet into the flesh just below the crease of your thigh. It all leaves you so confused; surely he would’ve done this last night if he had wanted to? When you were trying to subtly clue either of them into your want?

“Sir Croc?” you breathe out, “what-”

“Shhh, little lamb,” he croons before his tone turns teasing. “Wouldn’t want to wake up the hawk now would we?”

Your eyes snap up to the beautiful image of Mihawk’s peaceful face, looking perfectly carved in the soft morning light where it rests upon his pillow. Your awareness goes back to his large palm under your cheek and the gentle weight of his hand in yours. You shift again and notice your legs had been faintly brushing his with each motion. How had he not awoken?

“Lift your waist, sweet thing,” Croc urges.

You listen right away, too thrown off by the whole situation to question much else. You press your side away from the mattress and feel the chilled metal of Croc’s hook begin to slide under you, earning yet another shiver from you. It continues on its way, lifting you up even higher as the large, rounded base bass passes below you. All the fidgeting and movement has Mihawk shuffle slightly, spiking your heart rate at the idea of him staring you down in the embrace of Sir Croc. It only holds steady for a moment before Croc uses the base of his hook and his hold by your hip to drag you until you’re pressing flush into him, making your heart thump even faster and harder at the feel of his intimidating hardness coming to nestle against you.

“Croc, what are you-?”

“Hush,” he orders, tone more commanding even though it remained quiet. “Just want to touch you for a while, is that so bad?”

------

“How many times do I have to warn you, little lamb?” Croc says, voice fond and teasing. “Hush.”

He stops his tugging when the cloth makes it halfway down your thighs; he doesn’t need it any further to get what he wants anyway. He nestles back against you, making you both let out shaky moans at the feeling of finally being skin to skin. When he grinds on you this time, you cherish every new detail you can feel, loving how his velvety skin contrasts with the solid cock it covers and how his cock was dripping enough to make his head feel like a sloppy mess against your skin. He’s stuck thinking of the heat of you seeping into his body and taking him over, how much your pussy, exposed to him by an obscene arch of your spine, is painting the underside of his cock with each grind.

“There you are,” he breathes reverently, “so fucking warm and wet.”

You whimper in response to the words, pussy fluttering in want of something to clamp down on. Forgetting that you shouldn’t disturb the man lying next to you, your right hand leaves Mihawk’s to fist the front of his loose shirt. You don’t aim well and your fingers instead search against bare skin and anchor to his golden cross instead. You peek at him again from under your pleasure-scrunched brow. He lets out a breath much closer to a sigh and you feel the air curl gently over your face, a strong contrast to Croc’s forceful grinds. However, there are still no signs of Mihawk waking up. You keep looking even after you’re sure; staring at this gorgeous man lying next to you while being touched has your skin buzzing and head fuzzy.

How would he react if those golden eyes opened and saw you like this? Would they turn dark with desire, pupils blowing large enough to swallow you whole? Would his face flush a pretty pink from seeing you fall apart in front of him? What pretty sounds would he make to echo your own? Would he reach to touch you, unable to hold himself back?

“I wonder how warm you are inside, little lamb,” Croc whispers after a teasing nip on your earlobe.

Hybrid AU NSFW

Summary:

You specialize in helping exotic hybrids with traumatic pasts. Your biggest challenge has just been plopped on your lap in the form of a crocodile hybrid who reigned as champion in the fighting rings for years, yet being at the top didn't afford him any more humanity from his owners; shown in the fact that he has no name beyond "Croc". His cordial and sophisticated nature (likely taken from the mob family who owned him since he was a child) nearly lulls you into forgetting the ferocity and cruelty ingrained in him. It was branded into him from the outside by owners, strangers, and competitors, but his ability to harness it and explode it back outwards was what kept him alive for all these years. Will he learn to do the same with the patience, understanding, and kindness you feed him or will his smiles only ever be to show off sharp teeth?

Doffy

I Love You So, I'll Eat You Whole (Request) NSFW

Snippet:

“I told you, tesoro, I want you,” he responds, voice starting to tighten with his rising frustration and muscles coiling with his need to pounce and drag you out to get your angry farce over with already.

“What do you even mean? You already had me!” You scream at him, flinging closer in your wrath. “You had me and you didn’t give a shit; you sent me to die!”

Your fury and your closeness only made him smile wider and ease his posture. “No I didn’t. See-” even with those flamboyant glaces obscuring them you can feel the self-satisfaction oozing from his eyes roving over you, “you’re alive!” He actually has the gall to laugh at his comment.

“Fuck you and fuck this,” you snarl out through gnashed teeth. As you whirl around, away from him, you yell with all the accusation, hurt, and contempt your shredding vocal cords could muster, “I gave you everything!”

“No,” he finally snaps back, all the dark cheer and playfulness sloughs off of him to reveal the pure wrath and greed beneath. “No you didn’t, tesoro”

This time you can’t escape his iron grip, and your own hatred flares at the realization that he was still toying with you earlier because he was simply letting you go. Nothing you’ve done has intimidated him, he still doesn’t take you seriously - this man you loved beyond the point of obsession has always and will always toy with you.

“Fuck you,” you spit again, too angry to think anything else. He drags you close so you see every detail of his responding sneer. You kick and claw at anything you can but he doesn’t budge an inch and neither does that awful look on his face. “The fuck does that even mean?! I loved you! I faced death for you! I have nothing else to give.” Pieces of defeat that you hate even more than the man trapping you creep into your voice in the end.

“You’re giving it to me now, tesoro,” Doffy coos mockingly, leaning to brush his cheek against your temple. You would’ve killed for this affection before, but now your skin itches under the weight of the condescending touch. Trying to cringe away from him doesn’t work so you lash out with a blind bite. It catches his cheek and the corner of his lip, just barely drawing blood before the pop of opening flesh has you spit him back out in revulsion. “Ahh that’s perfect, tesoro.”

“Fuck you,” you sob your mantra, part hate, part confusion, and a tiny piece of defeat. “I can’t give you any more”

“You can and you will!” He yells, throwing you on his obnoxiously large desk and slamming his hands beside your head in threat. The impact shakes the expensive hardwood and your body, reminding you yet again of the force of nature that entranced you in the first place.

“I don’t hav-”

“Yes you do,” he screamed, snatching your face in one large hand and forcing you to see the raw fury and festering need twisting his expression. You’ve seen many outbursts from this man but never have you seen such ravenous rage consuming him. “You do. You gave me your love and your skills and your time and your devotion, but that’s not everything I want more.”

His large body feels hot as glowing coals as he lowers it over you, further trapping you between him and the unrelentingly cold and hard wood of his desk.

“I want your hate,” he growls, trailing his nose across your hairline in what you’re sure is a pantomime of real affection. “I want your fight and fury and violence.” His voice has softened but lost none of its fierceness, rushing out of him in a hiss instead of a roar. “I want you to kick and scream and claw at me, show me you loathe me almost as much as you worship me.”

Your confusion starts to wane and you begin to do exactly as he asks - writhing under him in search for an opening, pulling violently at his hair, clawing at his skin and clothes, turning to bite at the hand that has lifted to pet your cheek.

“When I have all of that I will have all of you.”

Law

A Warm Touch pt. 2 (undecided on NSFW)

TW for suicide, self harm, depression, messy discussions of mental health - but it will have a build in understanding and connection and a hopeful direction. Heavy heavy hurt/comfort on both sides. May have deleted pt 1 from tumblr but it should still be on Ao3

Summary:

Your attempt fails due to Law realizing how still you got and then the convulsions let him figure out what was happening. He jumped right into acting as the doctor he is, emptying your stomach and stabilizing you. He's glued to your side through your continued sleep, finally feeling the emotions come now that you're out of danger. He's filled with a disorienting cyclone of rage, guilt, fear, and grief. That storm is the second thing you notice when the world blurs back into being. The first thing you noticed is the shaky, clammy, too-tight grip on your hand.

In the wake of your desperate act, everything that's been left unsaid must be bled out for each other to see and the new hurt in both of you must be tended.

Snippet:

"How could you?" Law whispers. The broken crack and warble wounding his usually smooth and deep voice dragged the dense pit in your chest deeper than you thought possible. It took with it all the words of comfort and apology you wanted to pour over him. You've held him together when he's crumbled before, but you were never the cause of his distress. There was pungent anger and hurt seeping from his every action. Seeing the consequences of your decision had you falter and wish your running had worked to spare you both - you would be spared facing his pain and Law would be spared your failure to make anything better.

"You were going to leave me," he whimpers. "You're not allowed to leave."

He curls forward under the weight of his next sob, bent head hovering over his clasped hands white-knuckling your own. You feel his stuttering gasps and the steady drip of hot tears on your tingling hands. His distress shoots panic through you great enough to overcome the fear of making it worse and the deeply rooted feeling that you're not worthy enough to touch him. A quiet sniffle of your own interrupting your otherwise silent tears is all Law hears before he feels the feather light tough of your cheek brushing the crown of his head. The way you slowly pillow that cheek into him is hesitant and jittery as frightened deer, but it's all he needed to surge forward and crush the two of you together in a desperate hug.

"How fucking could you?" He asks again, broken but insistent, shoving his face into your chest instinctually chasing your beating heart. All you can do is whimper back and try to cling back such that you'd never be able to part.

Lonely in Company (will include NSFW)

Might change the title to Degausser cuz that song fits the vibe too well and I can see Law listening to it lol that mf looks like a man who indulges in that type of emo music - very Midwestern Emo adjacent but they’ve got the the tri-state bitterness lol

Bullet notes for the first build, leaving the notes on the outcome and growing relationship and then more angst a secret rn lol:

No stranger to these types of feelings himself, though yours manifested without some of the bitterness directed at the world or individuals, it was all directed inward

Noticed it long before he acted on it, was waiting for you to seek him first (figured if you wanted his help you’d come get it, didn’t want to prod or force)

You were avoiding bringing it up to Law or showing him because you felt your woes were insignificant compared to his and that it would almost be insulting to come to him

He also isn’t the warmest of people either, so even though it would mean the most to receive comfort from him, you also expected it the least

He eventually realizes that he’s going to have to come to you first once your symptoms are far beyond his comfort zone

Being direct, he has a talk with you that ends up making you feel like more of a burden due to your headspace more than his intention, telling you things like he’s noticed your work has been faltering and you’ve been disappearing more and more and asks if there’s something you need done - switch of position, leave the crew, etc.

You apologize (he tries to wave it off but you don’t take that to heart) and downplay how you’ve been feeling and that you’ll take care of it

He’s worried but doesn’t press

He starts to be around you more often and in closer proximity than usual (not like being next to you but he never chooses to be across the room anymore and is within distance to engage with you or your activity if need be)

This hovering is coming from a place of worry but you think it’s worry that you’re slacking or going to mess up and not his actual worry for your well being

You finally open up some when he changes to asking you what you’re thinking instead of how you’re feeling. You take a moment to stare into his eyes and he hates how empty yours look. You ask, “do you ever feel lonely?” “...every day.” You switch back to watching nothing in the air in front of you. The pause is long enough for him to think you’re done with the conversation before you look back to him. “Would it… would it be okay if I was around, Captain?” “It would be nice.”

You start to spend your free time with him, each doing separate things but sharing space together. It doesn’t help much with your loneliness but it is a good stopper for your mind getting worse because you’re not in an empty space - you can see and hear him when your thoughts start spiraling instead of them amplifying the “fact” that no one wants you around.

One night you end up falling asleep in his office. He let you rest there until he was done, not wanting to lose your presence.

He wakes you with a hand on your knee and the other gently shaking your shoulder. He whispered your name so softly that it broke your heart with the yearning to hear that all the time and have it mean something

Similarly, Law was of seeing you sleep soundly as a normal occurrence, and being able to touch more of you, craving the affection more than sex (tho that is something he also wants)

Both of you are Touch Starved and move apart more slowly than was normal and both of you thought about it constantly until the next touch

Because of this, personal space starts to be shared (standing with arms brushing, leaning over shoulders, sitting with thighs touching) but using hands seems to be where you two falter

This goes on for awhile before Law decides to advance things, wanting to help your shared loneliness

Making it be about physical needs over emotional ones is easier for him to admit so he goes that route

You’re about to leave his office to head to bed but he stops you by telling you to wait a moment

You turn around to wait for whatever he has to say, watching him get up from his spot to go over to you. You are shocked however when he keeps walking right into your bubble and stalks forward while you back up until he has you trapped against the door

He was looking into your eyes the whole way and you have to look up when he stops so you can keep eye contact while he looms over you

He watches you intently, trailing two fingertips along your jaw from one ear down to your chin, when he passes that he turns his hand over to brush the back of it against the opposite cheek. The caress ends with your chin propped on his index finger, his thumb teasing your bottom lip back and forth. Both of you are caught in a trance the whole time, breathing soft and shallow for fear of breaking the moment.

“Are you still lonely?” “I… yes, Captain” “Me too” He swoops down to replace his thumb with his lips

The kiss is slow and savoring, but also tentative and shallow. He’s holding your shoulders and you’re standing stiff, again both of you afraid the other will bolt at any moment

He separates but is only able to let himself get far enough to breathe, your lips still tickling each other and being warmed by each other’s breaths. Both of you still have your eyes closed, fearing that opening them will wake you from this dream. You feel his lips when he asks, “Still?” You push through your nerves and the feeling that you’ll fuck this up somehow to reach for him. He shivers when he feels your fingers through his shirt as you take a fistful of it. You give it a nervous tug and say, “Yes.” He’s back on you, forceful and needy, pulling you into him like you’ll disappear

You begin sleeping with each other to feel less alone. It’s needy and passionate and over time it becomes more and more vulnerable. It’s not all you do (you keep up the quiet time), nor is he kicking you out once the deeds done but there’s an unspoken rule not to talk about What It Means

First Heat ft Shachi and Penguin (ABO) NSFW

Originally was gonna be Law's section of the ABO series but I couldn't resist adding Shachi and Penguin so it's probably best if it's its own thing.

Summary:

A supply run being pushed back has left you with no other choice but to have your first heat on the Polar Tang. You've been hiding your status for safety in the pirate life more than for fear of being kicked from the crew. Your life has left you with a healthy fear of alphas finding your status however so only three of the betas know - Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku. In order to avoid facing the reality of the situation, you've been putting off prepping for your heat, so when it begins to set in early from the stress Shachi and Penguin scramble to help hide and provide for you.

Law forces them to show him where they've been hiding you. Law quickly falls into being as out of his mind as you are when he enters the room you've holed up in. Shachi and Penguin enter too to try and encourage him out but Law will not be removed from you. They're stuck there with the both of you as you try to adjust to sharing your heat and the rut it's pulling from Law, creating a mess of dominance and desire between the four of you.

Malicious Compliance NSFW

Notes/Plans:

Law - “I want this place clean enough I could eat off the floor” Reader does an immaculate job and leaves him his favorite food but left on the middle of the floor, maybe with a note that says “I even made time to whip you up something”

Tells you to stop tying your jumpsuit around your hips (it distracts him), you move to your waist first then when thats not enough you fully cover and make sure to ask permission each time you need to take off your jumpsuit, including each time you’re going to change for bed, phrasing it as “permission to disrobe” to see him fluster

You’re one of the ones on supply run in town - law is focusing on specifically restocking the medical supplies so you ask if he wants you to grab him anything and he’s dismissive in waving you off, saying “don’t bother”. You give everyone in the crew a little something except him (he realizes that he did say he didn’t want anything but it still hurts). When he returns to his room that night he finds a bag hanging from his door with a thoughtful fandom gift and a note “doesn’t count - it wasn’t a bother”

He tells you not to spend so much time with Luffy’s crew on this next meetup lest they influence you so you spend the whole time with Luffy (“what you said his crew-“) and Law feels jealous at the more boisterous side of you Luffy can easily pull out that he just doesn’t have the right personality for and it’s only rubbed in by you happily picking up Luffy’s nickname for him. It feels like a taunt every time you use it. After a few days of you using it (you love the excuse to be more openly warm and teasing with him) he snaps at you that it’s not his name. You go through a few more iterations of not quite his name, landing on Cap as a disrespectful version of his title, before he snaps

“I’m gonna fuck you until the only thing you can say is my name”

“Now you know just a fraction of how insane you make me feel”

“You could tell how fucked I am for you couldn’t you? Thought it would be funny to play with me and my feelings?” “No-” “Then why? You poke and you prod and you tease as if I’m not already incapable of thinking of anything but you. You could just look at me and you’re the only thing that exists.”

“You think you’re so clever huh? Let’s fuck that smart mouth stupid”

Shanks

Drunken Courage NSFW

Snippet:

Drinking with Shanks and the crew is nothing new to you. While you are more of an explorer than a pirate, you have tagged along with them on many adventures. At first it was simply because your aims aligned and your skills mutually benefited each other. That driving force, along with a lot of fortunate coincidence, carried your relationship along for quite a while, until you found yourself keeping tabs on him and adjusting your path so it wouldn’t stray too far from his. You’re pretty sure you’ve done it gradually enough for it to not be noticed (though Beckmann seems to be onto you - nothing gets by that man), or at least it’s escaped Shanks’ notice because he’s yet to poke fun at it.

No, instead he’s playing his usual game of pretending three shots is deep enough into his drinking to get affected. If the tales from crew mates of his legendary tolerance weren’t enough to expose him, then his mediocre acting skills would be. You’d have to rat that out to your other favorite drinking buddy. He didn’t particularly like hearing about your red-headed pal, but a bitch-fest did get him giggling enough to turn as red as his nose.

Despite the fact that you and the entire crew knew of Shanks’ game, you all still go on letting him play it. What’s the harm? And all of you were curious as to where he’d go with it. You had some idea; you’d have to be legendarily dense to not notice that it was an excuse to share your personal space, but the further “why” escaped you. Why did he want your touch? He could be a fan of physical affection who didn’t feel comfortable coming right out with it to you. That in itself was strange. You knew he had no trouble engaging women with sweet talk and caresses to tempt them for more, so why were you different? Was he unsure because he wanted the touches to stay platonic or did he truly find you intimidating? You found that idea positively ridiculous - Shanks could bring a legion down with his willpower alone.

One thing you were certain of was that he wanted your touch; he’d sprinkle himself on the others around but he’d glaze himself onto you, leaning and laying and resting and holding but just barely playing with the line of romantic touches. That circled you right back to the question of where he wanted it to go.

You had nurtured too much affection for this man and his many layers to halt your relationship at ‘bedmates’. Months into your relationship you would have happily skipped into bed with him, back when you only saw him as a silly man with too much power for anyone who breezed so flippantly through life. The year after that had you watching that veneer become transparent and show more serious aims and opinions from him. It made you pick over how much of it was genuine and worry about why he would want you to be so disarmed by his outward nature. You settled on it being a purposeful choice on what part of himself to highlight and not a false identity to hide behind.

Once you were decided on that, it was over for you. You loved a man who could bring a calm joy to your life and Shanks had the added benefit of knowing exactly when you needed him to get serious. The few times your vulnerability had broken through, he had treated you with care and respect. The way he made you feel safe and cared for in those times melted you and had you irrevocably hooked. It made it easy to see why his crew followed him with such devotion, and you’re positive you’d do the same if he’d just ask it of you.

He wasn’t very great at asking these things of you though, if his drunken farce was anything to go by.

He was sat with you on a small bench he had brought out to share while he had helped set up earlier. Using his talent to notice details, he set a thick woven blanket on the bench as a cushion, set a softer and thinner one within reach (on the opposite side of the fire so that it could be properly used as a barrier to the heat without already being warmed itself), and placed a small table on your side so you wouldn’t have to put yours on the floor if you tired of holding it. All were little gestures that had your heart skipping giddily since

Beckman was the one who pointed for you to watch Shanks at work from your position on the top deck. You were unaware that Beckman was meant to be distracting you from his task - orders from Shanks himself. Beckman figured a little insubordination would be fine if it would finally get the fucking ball rolling. In an attempt to make sure it stayed rolling instead of crashing and burning, Beckman decided to offer a little advice.

“Don’t make too big a deal of it, he’ll scurry away.” There was a dry humor to his words but enough seriousness to you to know he meant it.

“As if I could scare that man,” you huffed. “Besides the drink and fire will draw him back if he does scuttle off.”

“You don’t scare him, but I’ll be damned if feelings don’t,” Beckman explained. “And before you argue with me - look.”

He jutted his chin back in Shanks’ direction just in time for you to see the careful way he was fussing with the blanket on your side. He would massage and nudge it slightly before testing it out and repeating. He got through that maybe four times before his face lit up with pride, showing that eye-crinkling, cheek-splitting, shiny-toothed smile that made you weak. There was a short moment before he joined the swirling crew to help with the rest where his face became achingly tender with affection while taking in the spot you would sit.

“Well maybe it’s more of a commitment fear. There are times even I can’t figure out the ridiculous parts of his brain,” Beckman sighed.

“That’s a shame ‘cause I had a ring picked out and everything,” you facetiously mourned. “Even started thinking of dress silhouettes. You think mermaid or a-line would fit him better?”

“Go ball gown; he’ll be insufferable if he gets to show off his figure,” Beckman warns seriously.

“He’s fun when he’s insufferable,” you giggled lovingly.

Beckman looked over to see your expression matching the one just seen on his captain and barely reigned in the urge to drag you to him and knock your heads together. He was very practiced in his restraint; this was the eighteenth time today alone that he had to exercise it. The crew all got their practice with it, but most found Shanks’ show too amusing to want to expedite the experience.

Lifetimes of Summer

Shanks is very tied to this song in my brain for some reason. I have lots of personal ties from a few happy memories in childhood to the imagery in the song too, so I feel I have to do something with it. This thing, as with many of these, has been marinating forever 💀🤡

Snippet:

I died happy in my sleep

He never thought he would make it this far. Given his lifestyle, he thought it would end early and abruptly, explosively and violently. Even when he held the power to make legions kneel at a look, death sat watching him in his periphery and he had long since accepted its inevitability. He wasn’t wrong about the certainty of its due payment, but he was very wrong about its patience. Death waited long for him, letting him build decades of life around adventure, adrenaline, leisure, and love. They wore into his body not like waves on crags but as hands on leather, getting softer and more perfectly fitted with each caress.

My children around and you looking down

As his body lay still, the decades came to him in hands. Hands large and strong, delicate and manicured, warm and cold and soft and cracked and loving - always loving. Hands grasped him and stretched before departure, wanting to hold on forever. A hand kept from him in a thick glove laid on his cheek, before disappearing and returning to share its calluses and wrinkles. Many more came to brush and pass over him, record him against their skin and speak feelings his ears could no longer hear. He marveled especially at the many hands smaller than his, most of which could have hid under his palm and one that could only manage to hold his finger. He yearned to know how the years would shape them, but easily let his last desire go when he remembered the hands he didn’t feel.

Now the time stands still

His eyes finally work again and the light is blinding. He squints against it, hoping other things will come in to fill the vast white. His other senses fill in before his eyes adjust - creaking wood and washing water reach his ears, familiar sea salt is in his nose and on his tongue, beaming heat is softened by a loving breeze on his skin. Large bright blurs dim and sharpen and the only one that registers anymore is the one that takes your form. His heart pounds harder with each detail that comes into clear focus, his favorite being your face, looking exactly as it did after first saying “I love you”. He’s forgotten to breathe - he needs to do that again? - and his legs waver under him, knees weak at seeing you again.

He gets you for nights and days, seasons come and gone, and each of time’s cycles, but all lacking the symptom of age.

And there they are, your hands, warm and gentle on his own. He stares into your wet eyes and shaking smile while he reacquaints to your skin. His grip settles around your wrists, searching for one last mark of certain life. A steady beat plays against his trembling fingertips and you both finally weep out your joy.

Young, Dumb, and Full of- NSFW

Summary:

Shanks’ 20s were treating him quite kindly. Despite only being halfway through them, he’s filled out his crew, traipsed most of the Grand Line and four seas, and made quite the name for himself. He’s sure that, if given another decade on the seas, he could secure his spot as a yonko.

His determination and travails haven’t kept him from wandering or indulging his whims. What kind of pirate would he be if he forgot the lessons Roger taught him and fell only into diligent avarice? He made sure that he and his loved ones indulged in life heartily as they sought their prizes and purpose. After all, a happy future won’t come at the cost of never enjoying the present.

And enjoy he did, finding adventure, treasure, acclaim, challenge, and a fix for every appetite. Though recently one appetite was left wanting. Not for a lack of trying, but Shanks bed felt empty. No body warming it not his skin felt quite right. Sure, he had fun and got a quick fix, but each one left him feeling slightly more hollow. The turn to this confused him, as he hasn’t come across this problem in his years of enjoying others. He’d be lying if he said there weren’t two who stood out above the rest in sating him. It was why that was the case that confounded him.

Luckily, he has Beckman there to help steer him towards his answer. They both shared a wide appetite for women, yet with such different approaches and results. There always seemed to be a true affection warming between Beckman and his partners that the sparking lust of Shanks' exploits didn't match. How he managed to kindle such embers, Shanks had no clue. Maybe some direction will help him finally sink his teeth into a real meal, the kind that left you warm and sleepy. And maybe if he's really lucky then he can get the platter that's had his mouth watering for awhile now; you.

Corazon

Little Something (undecided on NSFW)

Summary:

He's pretty sure that your heart belongs to another but he'll take any of your attention he can get. Besides, he started this purely aiming for your friendship and he cherishes it so deeply.

Mihawk

A Light in Dark Places (will include NSFW)

Summary:

Reader is an organ and piano technician restoring all the instruments in Kuraigana Castle. The largest project is the heavily damaged organ that used to be the crown jewel of the concert hall. Proximity love, as slow burn as I can manage, depressed reader, so much yearning, sharing a bed/semi-one bed trope, love is found in helping each other connect to living. Snippet of first chapter below.

Snippet:

“Little Mouse.”

A hollow metallic thunk rang loudly through the empty concert hall, announcing the warlord like a ceremonial gong.

“Son of a cunt! God fucking-” a flurry of expletives helped fill the grande room, tapering off in time with the pure tone of the struck pipe.

Mihawk watched with masked amusement as you crawled out from the entrance to the innards of Kuraigana’s pipe organ. He did have some pity for the undoubtedly throbbing spot you held on the crown of your head; he wasn’t heartless. His shielded empathy was far from the list of traits he wanted his name to evoke, however. Along with that fact, that empathy did nothing to taint the entertainment he found from the size of your entryway; it was much more suited for five year olds than a fully grown adult. It made it wondrously impossible for anyone to enter and exit with anything other than ungainly fumbling at best. You were still on hands and knees when you first addressed your employer.

“Hello, Lord Dracule,” you huffed, mostly from exasperation at yourself for how well this interaction had started. You gave him a tired nod of your head, before turning and placing the nearby wood panel back to seal and disguise the entryway. You cursed the designer on each entry and exit; was the seam of a door so bad that they had to resort to this?

“I thought you’d heard my steps when I came in,” Mihawk stated with one minutely raised brow. He and his expression looked all the more imperious casting a shadow from so far above you.

You answered first with a good-natured laugh at your own expense. Brushing off the knees of your pleated trousers, you stood to feel at least a little more ready to address the lord of the castle. Re-rolling the cuffs of your long-rumpled button-up gave you a place to put your nervous energy while you made to straighten your spine and square your shoulders.

“You know how I can get when I’m at work, my lord,” you spoke through an apologetic smile. You took a moment to rub your aching eyes before meeting his gaze again. “Nothing short of an invasion would’ve caught my attention.”

“Or a nickname apparently,” He drawled, feeling teasing but sounding condescending. He didn’t like the responding flinch in your smile. It was minuscule, but it was still there. His brow changed to furrow when he saw the light sway to your posture.

Nami

Enjoying the Enabling NSFW

Summary:

Ever since you've set eyes on Nami all you've wanted to do is spoil her rotten. Nothing beats the shine in her eyes when you hand her something or do something for her and she just looks so cute with that cheeky smile when she shows off her new treasures. The thank you kisses don't hurt either, though you dream of the day they wander from their spot on your cheek. All that daydreaming is having you miss how Nami likes her things best when she can share them with you, so she decides to see if you'll recognize your own love language better.

Cross Guild

Why's HE the Favorite? NSFW

Overview/outline:

Mihawk and Croc forcing Buggy to fuck you in front of them thinking it would be humiliating to him, but he gets off on it and it’s not humiliating at all because he knows very well how to please you. They get wrapped up in watching - Mihawk petting your hair and holding your hands, Croc making you suck on his fingers and playing with your ability to breathe, Croc using his hook to drag your thighs wider, Mihawk sucking dark marks into your neck. After your highs and how much the others enjoyed watching you, Buggy is flying high on rare confidence and offers to the others if they’d like to have a try making you feel that good.

Mihawk goes first, steady and meticulous, focused on keeping you present and feeling him everywhere, building a climax slowly. He's ardent in a way that's completely foreign to you, even the simplest caress brimming with underlying energy and passion. He has you completely surrounded, hands brushing and massaging every inch of skin they can reach, lips and tongue you both in slowly sharing taste and leaving loving trails over your face, eyes always coming back to soak in your every reaction and trap you to him. When your climax finally crests, it grips you from head to toe and you cling to him and call his name, but your hands and eyes still seek Buggy.

Croc goes next and works at getting you close over and over again only to laugh at your whining when he keeps you from cumming. The stretch also has you maddened and plays just right with your cervix, feeling beautifully overwhelming so you need Buggy to keep you comforted through it. Croc commands Buggy to choke you and when he finally lets you cum he tells Buggy to let go, you’re absolutely thrashing and crying for this one and near painfully gripping down on Croc. You beg him to cum - you want to feel full and focus on that instead of the overwhelming pleasure, you snuggling into his hand and begging him with teary eyes fucks him up and he cums. Buggy sends a hand to rub gently at your clit and that throws you over a final time. Mihawk is touching you gently the whole time and praising you. Croc is holding you possessively, unwilling to let go. You’re babbling “thank you”s swapping between grabbing at each of them, but it’s Buggy who you pull in to kiss and nuzzle.

The other two seek your affection - their true purpose for this encounter coming to light. Croc leaving kisses from your ankle up your calf and caressing your hips, gently rubbing the sore joints, Mihawk is entwining your free hand with his, pressing it lovingly to his face before kissing your fingertips and palm and wrist, you give little shows of appreciation to them, but your dopey smile and lovesick eyes always go back to your dear clown.

Sweet-Scented Secrets (Truth Potion Series)

A magical vendor you (sort of) trust sells you a perfume meant to make someone confess. Inspired by this vid where a dude is testing a perfume then just starts opening up about some out of pocket shit 💀 Character list is very fluid right now - will include the usual favs and fold in any that spark my interest or in the case anyone else is interested. Below is a good chunk from the intro/set-up.

Snippet:

You would’ve had to have been blind or willfully, stubbornly ignorant to see that woman and think anything other than “witch”. Feathers and beads were tied in her dark hair, swaying in time with her vertebrae earrings on each turn of her head to watch passersby. You kept your eyes to them as you approached her, feeling unsettled and intrigued by the strange decorations. Shortly after you began heading towards her, her face snapped to you and she zeroed in, making you feel like a rabbit stalled before a fox. When she stood from her seat and sashayed over to greet you in front of her stall, you realized she was barefoot, sporting wood and leather anklets instead of shoes. The music they beat with each of her steps and the open smile that warmed her face eased you just a bit.

“Hello, sweet thing,” she greeted, the cheery tone of her voice ringing out the pet name. “I can help you find just what you need. The coven and I have built a stock to aid any situation, including yours.”

As she leaned forward in a semblance of a bow, you noticed her large necklace of braided bramble (Thorns still on? you noticed incredulously) hung low, holding dried roses in front of her cleavage. The languid way it followed her matched the nature of the scant drapings of deep red and dirty beige fabric, which hung on her in the vague shape of a summer dress. She held out her suntanned arms, palms up to ask for your hands. Having her this close nearly made you step back; something unnatural lived in the air around her and her tawny eyes saw right through doors and walls and words and skin. Feeling hesitant, you continued to meet her gaze and only offered a mumbled greeting.

“Come now, let me have your hands,” she encouraged gently. “They’ll tell me what you need.”

“How are they supposed to do that?” you asked curtly. “And I usually like knowing someone’s name before hand-holding.”

“Call me Pythia,” she chimed immediately, still holding her bent posture and asking hands. “I don’t have the time to explain the hands. I promise I won’t keep them though.” She giggled at her own… joke? You were hoping that was a joke. You eyed the peeks of death behind her (articulated bugs here, bones there, jarred creatures, hides, blood-) that made all the pretty wares around them seem tainted.

Watching her laugh was the first time you noticed the knack her loving smile had for curling into something more impish, cluing you in that she knew something you didn’t. Despite this making her feel even more dangerous to interact with, you put your hands in hers.

“Thank you, lovely,” Pythia said, voice heavy with a gratefulness that didn’t seem to fit the moment to you. While she cradled your hands, you cautiously took in the many carved rings and bangles of stone, leather, metal, and bone that decorated her own.

That caution had rooted itself to you and was very stubbornly sticking to your feelings about her wares. Besides the perfume, you had purchased an herbal pouch to hang over your bed, meant to aid with ease and depth of sleep. The first night you noticed your mind was much calmer than its usual anxious whirring before bed. The second night you listened to the first of her instructions and took ten deep breaths through your nose against the sigil-embroidered pouch. Your sleep came mere minutes after taking in the floral and earthy scent. It had you decide to try out the full instructions, adding on asking the herbs for good rest, placing a gentle kiss to the sigil, and sealing it with a long press of your forehead to the marking. You slept like the dead.

The success had you brainstorming on how to make it back to her in a few months, as she had warned you that the effects will fade with use. It has only been three weeks since your first full ritual with the pouch and you can already feel it start to wane just a bit. You mourned this morning when the sun through your window had actually managed to rouse you from sleep. When you were grumpily blinking at the bright light, you had noticed the perfume bottle still sitting untouched next to the beaming light.

If the pouch worked then shouldn’t this?

ABO Series NSFW

You've been hiding your omega status but circumstance outs you to them. Sometimes it's your heat, sometimes their rut, but it always ends in you being overwhelmed with the need for each other.

Group 1

Buggy

Full heat

The small town that is the base for Buggy's Delivery is finally settled

You're long overdue for a heat, knowing you've been pushing your body by keeping so hard at the suppressants for so long

The heat would be hell, but it would be way worse if you kept this going until your body forced it on you anyway

You take finally staying in an established place, especially one that allows you far more privacy than a ship, as a sign that it's time to bite the bullet

Thinking Buggy was still too busy with running things (and largely waving other people off to take care of it for him), you just pulled back your presence and hunkered down to ride this out instead of trying to come up with a full excuse

Buggy was very much not too busy to notice your presence lacking in his days, and he noted it with increasing worry and frustration

Did he upset you? Were you disappointed in this whole business? Was he disappointing you?

That last thought scared him too deeply so it was quickly covered with 'how dare you just run off and ignore him like your time together meant nothing?!'

He storms to your corner of the hideout, primed and ready to scream you an earful. He pounds at your door to no response until knowing you're on the other side acting like he doesn't exist enrages him enough to kick the door in

He inhales to yell but deflates completely when he's hit with a wall of sweet and musky heat that somehow also smells deliciously like you and he almost can't believe it until he sets eyes on you and is struck with how you've put every single one of his fanatsies to shame with how you look

Croc

Pre-heat

You knew Croc kept a good eye on you but you underestimated him

You didn't underestimate his acumen, no you underestimated just how closely he watched you, missing that his eyes on you were absolutely obsessive

It does take a long while (longer than he'd like to admit) but he does find out why your status struck him as odd. Your act was good but he could in fact sniff out that it was an act

The moment he finds out that the act is hiding your omega status for fear of your safety (proof found when he finds out about your suppressants) he's setting a trap for you

He intercepts your suppressants and replaces them with sugar pills, enjoying his game as he watches you try to keep up your farce while your hormones trickle back in

He didn't think it possible but each compounding show of your born status has him needing you just that much more

That should've been his sign that this ploy could have him lose himself too, but he was too consumed with thinking of you to consider it

He thinks he has you right where he wants you when you begin to go into pre-heat, but when he's in front of you, he's the first one to become fully helpless to their instincts

Mihawk

Full rut

Trying to deal with his rut alone as he often does but he's in agony

He thinks of calling past rut partners but the thought of touching any of them is making his skin crawl

Slowly his instincts eat away at his higher decision making and he's leaving his rut room before he's even thought of getting up

He's propelled by his need, feet guiding him towards a promised relief that only takes the blurry shape of kind hands and intelligent eyes

A familiar scent manages to make him both relieved and starved at the same time

His eyes finally focus and see your face, frozen in shock and concern

With each step towards you, your scent begins to sweeten and musk and the panic in your face heightens but all he can think is of his need to touch, taste, feel, and own every inch of you

Shanks

Pre-rut

It's hitting him different than it usually does, heightening his aggression more than his lust

The lust is still there under the current but the way he can't detach it from you only has his temper quicken

He doesn't feel right propositioning you as you've become part of the crew and he also worries about hurting a beta with an aggressive rut

Your instincts however have been telling you to soothe and care for him despite his increasingly prickly demeanor and you keep searching for whats wrong until he finally snaps at you

With his uncharacteristically frayed patience in the wake of his body's turmoil, some of his conquerors haki slips into his command for you to just stop

It has you drop to your knees and in your hazy consciousness you begin to feel your body warm, propelled by the stress and a command from the alpha you've been yearning for

The moment he smells the heat on you he snatches you away for himself

Beckman

Pre-heat

You’ve been on suppressants too long so they begin failing

You’d been hovering around him as of late, a lil more touchy than you’d ever been

You’ve taken to wearing scent covering perfume

While it’s nice, he’s yearning for your scent again

You take a sudden 180 and he doesn’t see you for a day and a half

When he sees you again, you’ve hidden yourself in his sheets, curled around some shirts you’ve pulled from his laundry

You’ve got obvious patches on, cluing him in to the situation as if your obvious nesting and flush weren’t enough

You’re in your right mind just enough to convince him you do want this

One thing that helped convince him was the hovering behavior

Beckman is heavily interested and trying to hold himself back despite your scent not being out to influence him yet

That changes when you rip one of the patches off of your neck (“smell how much I need you”) and he’s immediately on you

Group 2

Luffy

Full Heat

You were separated on an island and ran out of suppressants

he finds you holed up in heat and it triggers his first real rut since he first presented

Luffy as an alpha never really reacted to omegas

Chopper knows you’re an omega and tries to only let those who wouldn’t be affected by your heat search for you and he wrongly includes Luffy in that group

Zoro

Pre-heat

he got you both trapped with a wrong turn in some ruins

normally you’d be making the decisions instead of him but your pre-heat is setting in

the increasing close proximity is just making it worse, enough that your scent starts to leak through your blocking underwear with the slick

Sanji

Pre-rut

Pre-rut brain has him snoop through your stuff

He wants your scent to get off and comfort him through his rut

He ends up finding patches and scent blocking underwear

Ace

Full Rut

he’s in the rut room on the ship and you’r sent in to check on him because he’s doing really awful

as the closest “beta” to him, you’re the smart choice except you’re fully an omega, who already struggles with their instincts around him

you figure an omega might help his rut calm down and Ace might keep your secret (especially if you offer the leverage of becoming his rut partner?)

Sabo

Pre-Rut

he’s gotten obsessive in his pre-rut, sticking to you like glue

He convinces you for some physical touch for comfort and finds your patches on your body

in his desperation he can’t keep from ripping them off and burying himself in your scent, nor can he stop his hips from rutting into you the whole process

He goes to mouthing at your glands immediately and begging to mate you

Koby

Pre-Heat

finds you because he’s checking in on your “rut”

you’ve been posing as an alpha, you find the role easy to play most of the time as you’ve become used to overcompensating for your status and you hoped it would help ease you up the ranks

He’s just one step above you in rank (something Helmeppo won’t let you forget) so he’s your captain both directly and in marine rank and feels the need to make sure you’re okay

when he goes to check in and you violently fly to the door to close it he gets worried but the broken voice you use to tell him to leave is what makes him do otherwise - he’s never heard you sound so pathetic and it had his instincts kick up in a need to protect you

he barges in despite your protests and the smell hits him like a ton a bricks, the sweet alpha gets aggressive with you for the first time (‘why won’t you just fucking let me take care of you for once”)

Group 3

Doffy

Full Heat

He's had you locked away for awhile, keeping you from your suppressants (unknowingly), when he checks on you again you’re already in heat

Cora

Pre-Rut

seeks you out because you’re his favorite and his brain is telling him you’re who he needs for his rut, he’s already pretty far gone but when it triggers your omega scent he’s gone

Law

Full heat

Thought you were leaving the crew for the Straw Hats (you were holing up with them for a heat)

Thinks you don't trust him because you've refused most medical attention from him yet you're fine with Chopper

The problem was that you're reactive to him and his recent rut had you burn through your supply of suppressants

Kid

Full Rut

You’re the ship doc and need to check on his rut because its going bAD and despite taking precautions and doing fine with all the other ruts it throws you right into a heat the moment he’s on you

Killer

Pre-Heat

you got real injured in a reckless fight the crew got in, docs been keeping your secret but Killer finds out when he’s checking on you

Group 4

Aiming to contain Katakuri, Lucci, Garp, Roger, and Rayleigh

Thank you if you've made it this far cuz damn lol

If you like any of these snips enough to read them again I’d suggest saving them, lest my propensity to delete my posts make them disappear. Honestly if you like any of my fics enough for another read I’d suggest saving them what with the long struggled debate of nuking my presence becoming a more and more tempting idea - to let like a percent of the Edge out, a bitch is disgraced with her own existence and proof of my failing at it sucks to see 💀 thus ~delete~ inclination lol sorry for the Hot Topic Moment, I hope you managed to enjoy!

#buggy x reader #mihawk x reader #shanks x reader #one piece x reader #wips #sir crocodile x reader #law x reader #doflamingo x reader #x reader #reader insert #my writing #writers block

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