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kimhargreeves · 8 months

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A Flashy Act part 2-Buggy x Reader (smut)

Summary: Buggy has decided to question you behind curtains in his private room, which leads you both to share an intimate moment together.

(A/N: The people have spoken and I delivered!! Enjoy this spicy Buggy smut for all you weird clown fuckers like myself. Special thanks to everyone who liked my post! I didn't expect it to become popular in just a day. Anyone enjoy cause this is nasty..or spicy however you want to look at it. A part 3 may be done once I finish the show since I'm on ep 3.)

(Tag list: @pookiesnatcher @alejandro0-0 @ghostlycrystobalove @lenu-i

"Luffy!"

"Don't worry, I got this!" Luffy shouted when Buggy had grabbed me and began to pull me away from the stage, where Luffy was now held. This fucking clown, I swear if he harms that boy. I frowned when the clown began to now pulling me away.

"Quit giving me such a hard time!"

"Hey! What do you think you're doing pulling me into this room-" I was immediately quiet when Buggy grabbed my shoulders dipped me a bit and he unexpectedly began to kiss me.

I started back at him surprised as he lifted me back up on my feet. The first thing I did was slap his across the face and I hid my face.

"I-I'm so sorry! What..why did you-"

Buggy began to chuckle to himself as he held onto the spot I had hit him. His lipstick was smeared around his lips, and it was a bit hard ti tell if I let a mark on his face.

"You're still annoying and hard to please. You haven't changed quite much, (Y/N). Now..Where is my map?!"

I furrowed my eyebrows and leaned closer to look at him. All of the sudden Buggy took a step back and froze.

"Buggy…sorry I don't know what you mean-"

"Ugh I knew it! That damn Shanks probably told you to forget about me. He always does things like this."

I crossed my arms over my chest and tilted my head. "Shanks you know him?! Wait…" I thought hard and suddenly remembered a certain memory of myself, Shanks and Buggy.

"Now I remember! You took a few punches once when-"

"When a guy threatened to toss you out into the sea." Buggy ended my sentence and sighed.

I started up at the clown and wondered how I had forgotten about him. "We used to hang out didn't we? The three of us."

"Yeah until I was left alone! Shanks returned one day without you, saying how he wanted you to have s nice and decent life, not a pirates one which I thought was bullshit."

"Language." I warn and smirked afterwards.

Buggy sighed and now looked at me up and down. "You really grew up, (Y/N)."

"Flashily I suppose?" I said giving a twirl and giving a wink. "But seriously, did you kidnap us just so you can have the map?"

"That map belongs to me! Not to some prepubescent boy who doesn't know what it's like to be a pirate. Why are you with him anyways?" He asked leaning his back onto the wall and crossing his arms.

"I made a promise to my brother, Shanks. That I would look after him."

"So you're a babysitter then? That's great." Buggy rolled his eyes as he said that and started to take his gloves off. "Really suits your character." He laughed.

I squinted my eyes at him and looked at him from head to know. "Never thought you would go with the whole creepy clown look. You look like you would eat children." I joke.

"I eat others things… I let the whole raw meat thing to my buddy you met back on stage."

Great. So not only are they all supposed to be freaks, but he has a cannibal among them. What else has he been up to for these last couple of years?

"Gross. How many times have you taken advantage of some poor girl..or boy."

"Don't be ridiculous. I would never take advantage of someone if they were against it. And those who accept?"

"Well, let's say we have a pretty good time." He grinned pulling himself back up straight and seeing me fake throwing up.

"Ew.. I did not need that image in my head."

"Don't tell me you're still a virgin! Someone like you? Traveling the sea?!"

I looked around at where he had taken me. Making sure to look well even if it was kinda dark, only a few candles here and there with a vanity mirror and a few makeup scattered around, a small bed with the same lights messily clinging above the room.

"Where's Luffy?"

"Now you're avoiding the question!"

"Just tell me where he is with his ginger girl and broccoli guy!" I said trying me my best to not seem nervous, but really wanting to know if they were safe.

"I'll gladly tell you, once you tell where my map is!" He shouted and seemed to quickly compose himself and curse under his breath.

Buggy dramatically sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed. "Rubber boy is fine, he's entertaining my guests. Other two are with Cabaji."

My eyes looked back at the entrance and worried about the people being held hostage, I even spotted a poor dog with an older man, probably the owner saving the last thing he has, "What about the people?"

"What people?"

"The towns people, you idiot. You have to let them go." I said hoping he'd listen.

Buggy jumped up and began to laugh. "Sure! I'll do it right now, wanna help me?"

I frowned looking at him and was thinking if there's some way I can somehow release some of them. I really need Luffy's help…I decided to be straight and harsh with him.

"No matter how many people you hold captive. You'll never make people love you."

I felt a bit intimidated by his stare when Buggy took steps closer to me and cornered me against the vanity mirror. I looked to the side and felt his stare on me.

"Don't think you'll get a pass out of this, sweetheart. You're doing this so I can let your little friends go." Buggy lowly spoke as he took his ungloved hands and wrapped one around my neck.

"You seriously think that I would take advantage of you?" I question looking back up at him and saw a cold stare on his face.

"I think you're the one wanting to take advantage of me. You want to know where the map is. Well, I won't tell you, because I don't know. Thanks to your bombs I collapsed before I got the chance to see where or who got it."

"And why should I trust you? We don't know each other well." He sang being sarcastic as ever.

"You like playing games don't you? Maybe I can show you that I am telling the truth." I said and smiled.

Buggy frowned and gave me a harsh stare. I reached my hand down to his pants beginning to unbutton the first few buttons. His breathing hitched and I could feel him freeze when I touched him.

"It's been years since I saw you. We were kids..I'm sorry I forgot about you. Shanks only wanted what was best for me-"

Buggy instantly grabbed my wrists making me stop and look back at him when with his other hand he grabbed my face.

"Shanks being selfish as ever. Did he ever wonder what was best for me? He's taken everything from me, and now I have you back." He grinned and now grabbed the back of my head.

He placed his hand under my chin and I could see his blue pupils darken. I closed my eyes when Buggy leaned down to kiss me again. I felt him move my hair aside and leaving quick kisses down my neck and collarbone.

I gripped onto his shirt tight and began to kiss his lips again, ignoring how I would end up stained in his makeup. Quickly it began to deepen with me slipping out a moan when I felt his hands on my stomach and felt his pants getting tighter.

I moaned into the kiss when I felt him begin to get rid of my upper half clothes and began to palm my chest. Buggy's kisses began to lower until he reached down my breasts while his other hand played with my other one. While he was busy I started to reach my hand down to his pants beginning to unbutton the first few buttons. His breathing hitched and I could feel him freeze when I touched him.

"It's been years since I saw you. We were kids..I'm sorry I forgot about you. Shanks only wanted what was best for me-"

Buggy instantly grabbed my wrists making me stop and look back at him when with his other hand he grabbed my face.

"Shanks was being selfish as ever. Did he ever wonder what was best for me? He's taken everything from me, and now I have you back." He grinned and now grabbed the back of my head.

He smiled as he placed his hand under my chin and I could see his blue pupils darken. I shivered when I felt his hands beginning to move lower into my pants, until his fingers started to tease my nub.

My breathing hitched and a moaned almost escaped from my mouth, quickly I covered my mouth which made it seem like it was irritating Buggy. With my mouth still covered I saw him beginning to lower himself down on his knees. Quickly he got rid of my pants quick and slowly pulled down my underwear.

I've never been this exposed to someone. I began to cover myself but Buggy held my hands back and he began to leave a few bits down along my thighs until I saw him begin to part my legs. I leaned my back against the vanity mirror making all the things that were on it fall to the ground.

"You are so beautiful, (Y/N)." I heard Buggy say when he saw me naked before him.

Buggy began to lick his smudged lips and I gasped when he grabbed my thigh and placed it on his shoulder. I threw my head back when I saw stick his tongue out and gave a slow and long lick to my entrance, he followed it with another lick until Buggy was swirling his tongue. I loud moan escaped from mouth when I couldn't hold it it anymore.

His nose would occasionally brush against my clit, causing my body to twitch and strain against him. Buggy's other hand continued to thrust his fingers inside me while he pressed his thumb against my nub. "Buggy..” I moaned lowly. My hand continuing to grab his hair tugging at it slightly, causing him to growl right into my cunt again. "I'm gonna-" I squeezed my eyes shut when he thrusted his fingers faster for me to come.

I began to buck my hips forward and continued to tug onto his blue hair which has been tied up. I squeezed my eyes tights and cried out in pleasure when I felt something build inside of me, and when I finally came, I felt my legs about to give out.

Buggy quickly wiped his messy face and quickly stood up and held me close to him. Holding me so I wouldn't fall.

"Not so fast, sweetheart. It's my turn." I was still coming back to reality when Buggy pushed me down on my knees and I was met with his long and big- "There's no way its gonna fit." I thought looking at him.

"Why don't you use your pretty mouth, (Y/N)?" Buggy hummed slipping his thumb into my mouth before pulling it away. I looked down at him and my entire face got red seeing him completely undressed now. What would people say if they saw me about to fuck a clown.

Suddenly I began to feel nervous as I watched him begin to stroke himself a bit until he began to guide his member closer to my mouth, his other hand running through my hair lovingly.

I did what I suppose I am to do, I opened my mouth sticking my tongue out. Buggy wasted no time and he began to gently fuck my mouth. I hummed when I tasted him and heard him groan above me as I took in more of him and took him out with a pop.

I reached my hands out to pump the rest that couldn't fit in when I took him back again and began to gag when he began to fuck my mouth faster. Buggy gripped my head tight and suddenly pulled be back leaving a string of saliva connected to him. I shrieked when he suddenly began to carry me onto the bed.behind him.

Buggy quickly getting rid of his remaining clothes and grabbed my ankles to part my legs when he got on top of me, his hands gripped my hips as he guided his dick between my folds. I shivered when I felt him toying with me and kept on teasing me before he grabbed himself again and began to slide in.

Both of us moaned when he slid deep inside of me. Buggy cursed a few words and he stayed still for a minute, before he began to thrust into me at a rough pace. He slid deep in me with ease as my juices coated his cock. I moaned out and looked to the side feeling shy again, my breasts bouncing with every hard thrust he did as I felt his fingers rubbing my clit harshly.

Again I felt that familiar sensation returning I clenched around his cock as I interlaced my fingers with Buggy when I felt that snap again and my vision got blurry for a second. I began to feel overstimulation when his hands buried into my hair again until one of his hands reached down my neck. His pace became even rougher and faster, making me come closer to my climax again

"B-Buggy!"

I began to cry when he learned down to whisper dirty things into my ear, his playful self no longer present in the room. Tears streamed down my cheeks as he continued to fuck me. Buggy reached down to rub my clit harshly, making me come again and stain the sheets beneath us. And just when I thought we were done, Buggy flipped me so my stomach would be facing the bed and my back facing him.

Another moan escaped from me when I felt a harsh smack against my ass and felt his hands grab my ass and stretching me to take him in better. At this angle I could feel him closer.

I shut to eyes shut and continued to moan and cry every time he would thrust into me. I bit my lips tight as I felt his harsh thrust inside of me. I reached down myself and stated to circle my finger over my clit, the friction along with this man's rough thrusts making my mind go blank as I rested the side of my face onto the bed.

"Buggy..I-I'm.." I cried out when I felt Buggy holding onto my hips tighter pulling me back against him.

I heard Buggy softly laughing as he watched the faces and moans I made. One last moan and cry came out of me when I came hard. I still felt extremely sensitive when I felt Buggy holding onto me tight until we both gasped, I grasped onto the sheets when I felt forward a bit and felt him getting closer

Buggy gripped onto me tight and moaned close to my ear when he came inside of me. I fell forward and began to shake at what happened. Slowly, Buggy pulled himself out.

I got myself comfortable laying on my side and felt something still slowly dripping out of me. I was too tired to speak or to even look back at the blue haired clown.

Last thing I felt was Buggy rubbing my hips and planting a kiss a quick kiss on my head before I watched him leave the bed. Too tired to question anything, I decided to shut my eyes for a quick nap and felt something warm being placed on top of me.

"(Y/N)! You're safe..where the heck where you?!" Luffy questioned seeing my tired face. "Where you kept locked up? Buggy didn't hurt you did he?!" Luffy grabbed my shoulders and began to shake me.

"Luffy! Now's not the time!" I said not wanting anyone to touch me at how sore I felt. I looked at the young boy and smiled, "…I-I'm fine. None of you got hurt?" I asked genuinely concerned for them.

Though I have no idea what had happened since I had blacked out. I only remember falling asleep and well, waking up alone and pulling away from some curtains and making my way outside of the huge tent. That bastard clown. How dare he leave me.

Everyone of the towns people were set free and thanking Luffy for his help. Everyone genuinely seemed happy and very grateful. That way they know that not every pirates are bad.

"Nothing we couldn't handle." Zoro calmly replied walking past me.

"Kicking the clowns ass was fun. You should've seen it." Nami told me after.

They defeated him then? I sigh and smiled looking at Luffy and pulled his straw hat down and chuckled. There's no way he can't know what happened between that clown and I. That fucking clown will pay if I were to see him again.

I looked over at my friend and smiled at him. "You did great Luffy."

I followed Luffy to the ship and saw him waving at everyone where the ship began to sail. We all got busy and I sat down rethinking what the hell I did back there.

Luffy came over and smiled sitting next to me. "Are you sure you're fine? I swear I heard you crying."

My blood ran cold and I grew pale. I noticed Luffy's worried look and he quickly placed his hand over my forehead.

"Are you sick? Don't tell me you're getting sea sick all of the sudden."

"…Nope. I'm sorry I shouldn't worry you. Nothing happened." I lie straight at his innocent face.

The boy smiled and nodded his head. "If you say so! Let me know if you feel any better."

I nodded my head and saw Luffy run over to the front of the boat. I turned around and spotted Nami and Zoro shaking their heads at me.

#netflix #anime #buggy x reader #buggy smut #one piece x reader #opla spoilers #one piece live action #one piece spoilers #buggy the clown #one piece buggy #buggy one piece #one piece smut

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 2 months

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I Didn't Know You Smoked

Steven Grant x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Steven has a secret habit.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Everytime I write something I feel myself putting on the clown make up more and more.

Warnings: Use of ‘fag’ as the British and Australian slang for cigarette, reader doesn’t smoke, blow job, fingering, p in v sex, cream pie, maybe kind of a cream pie kink from Steven if you look closely, swearing, typos, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 2741

The scent of smoke caused you to pause midstep. You shrugged off your backpack and hung it up on the side as you walked to the kitchen and put down your shopping bag. You’d been able to start cooking when you realised you were missing a few key ingredients and had made a quick dash to the corner shop.

The smell of smoke hit you again, and even though it was very clearly cigarette smoke your mind quickly spiralled to smoke from a fire. Shit. Had you left a candle on in the bathroom?

You’d lit one when you had a bath after work, the image of the flame somehow catching the towels and running up the walls burst into your head.

You rushed to the bathroom, yanking open the door with such a force that the hinges groaned under your exertion.

Steven practically jumped out of his skin, whipping his head around to look around at you, his eyes wide. “What the fuck?” He yelps.

“Shit, Steven, sorry, I thought I’d left a cand…” You pause, and truly take in the scene before you.

He’s stood on the toilet, crouched a little so that he can reach the tiny top part of the window that actually opens. There’s a cigarette in his left hand. You can just see it from your angle. Steven’s hand outside in the cool evening air.

“You’re smoking?” There isn’t any judgement in your voice, just surprise.

“Yeah, fuck, sorry,” he turns to hastily blow smoke out of the window, practically trying to shove his whole face outside before he grabs the old jar from were he had propped it on the window sill and stubs out his cigarette hastily. He puts the butt in there after and screws on the lid.

You’d seen that old jar on his desk plenty of times. Just assumed it was filled with odds and ends. You didn’t realise it was his secret ashtray.

The sight of him blowing out the billow of smoke is kind of… nice actually. Despite his obvious panic there’s something about it you can’t quite put your finger on. You shake your head.

“No, don’t worry, I just… didn’t know you smoked?”

Jake smoked, you could set your watch to his cigarette breaks; they were so precise. But he would always, without fail, go outside. Rain or shine, freezing cold or oppressive heat. He didn’t seem to mind if the lift was broken or not, outside he would go and the butt would go in the bin on the street after. Never on the floor. Jake was a stickler for that, had got into more than one verbal (and physical) fight with strangers who just flicked their fag onto the pavement.

Marc had smoked, several years ago. But had quit and never touched another one since. It always used to puzzle him when he had the craving for one after not smoking for over a decade.

Most other ex-smokers he spoke to talked about being revolted by cigarettes once they had fully stopped for a few years. Now that he knew about Jake, and his continuing habit, whenever the urge got too strong he just tapped out and let Jake go for a cigarette. (Marc still argued that smoking was bad for them, while Jake countered that technically Khonshu’s suit healed any damage every time they wore it. Which had led to a very lengthy debate over if Jake’s true reasoning for serving the moon god was so that he didn’t have to quit his nicotine fix.)

They didn’t smoke often, and Jake went more than out of his way to minimise any smell that clung to them. But it meant that you never found it puzzling if they smelt like smoke. It just meant Jake had had one.

Steven had never mentioned smoking himself, in fact he often scolded Jake for it.

“I don’t smoke, I mean,” Steven blushed a little, his shoulder slumping. “Well, that’s a lie, innit? I smoke… sometimes?”

“Sometimes?” You repeat with a small smile.

“Sometimes… just sort of,” he shrugs. “Feel the urge sometimes. I used to… before I met Marc and Jake, once or twice a month, just one fag, you know? I hid a packet under the sink.”

“Under the sink?” You laugh kindly and Steven smiles and nods.

“Yeah, here,” he gets down off the toilet and points at a little space under the taps. “And then I’d smoke out the window so I didn’t set the alarm off or stink out the place. I tell you, I used to always get confused because sometimes I would smell a bit like smoke, even though I hadn’t touched them in weeks.” He shrugs again. “I thought that’s just what happened.”

You chuckle. “And you still sneakily have a fag every now and then.”

He nods and grins bashfully, “every now and then… I know I should be good and go outside like Jake does but… it’s like, part of the ritual now. You know? Stand at an awkward angle and half hang my head out of the window. Wouldn’t feel right otherwise… plus sometimes I just can’t be fucked.”

You laugh loudly and he smiles, glad that his little joke amused you.

“Marc and Jake don’t know…” He says shyly.

You nod and mime zipping your lips and he grins again.

“Thank you, love.”

You lean to give him a quick kiss but he pulls back a little.

“Sorry, I mean, I definitely taste like smoke, disgusting, you don’t want that do you? No.” He shakes his head. “I’ll brush my teeth.”

You screw your face up a little in what Steven at first assumes is agreement at not wanting to kiss him while he tasted of cigarettes.

You let out a little grumble and take hold of his cheeks, holding him firmly as you place a kiss on his lips.

Even though the action is brief he does taste like smoke. And it’s kind of… nice again. A strange little spark of heat begins to grow in your belly and suddenly you can’t get the idea of fucking Steven with a cigarette dangling between his lips out of your mind.

The way you know he would writhe and whimper, biting down on the butt to try his hardest to stop it from slipping out of his mouth.

He moans low against you as you slide your tongue against his, spreading that smokey flavour across your taste buds.

“Hmm,” he pulls back just a fraction to speak, even though his hands slide to your hips to pull you closer. “What’s gotten into you, love?” He grins.

“Nothing,” you mumble and kiss down his jaw, running your teeth over his neck and leaving sloppy bites.

Steven shivers, a little gasp of air hitching in his throat as he urges you even closer. You bump against his quickly hardening cock and he groans, bucking his hips forward to rut against you. Kissing his neck was always his weak spot. Practically guaranteed to get him hot under the collar at a second's notice.

He whines a little as you move away from him for a momentarily, his fingers tighten instantly against you, trying to keep the space between your bodies to a minimum.

“Here,” you grab at the cigarette packet on top of the cistern, and pull one out before you offer it to him.

Steven raises his eyebrow at you.

“Just, erm, can you put it in your mouth?”

He pauses for a second, chewing at his bottom lip nervously. “I don’t want to smoke in front of you love, if I’m messing up my own lungs then-”

“No, no, you don’t have to light it… just…”

His eyes widen ever so slightly and a small smile pulls at his lips. “You like it, huh?” He teases softly.

“No.” Heat burns at your skin but you can’t help but laugh lightly. “...yeah.”

He chuckles and takes the cigarette, nuzzling into your cheek. “Alright, but… let’s not tell Jake about this, yeah?”

You raise your eyebrow at him this time. “And why is that?”

“Oh,” Steven shrugs, moving the cigarette between his fingers in an almost hypnotic pattern, “no real reason.”

“Really?” You grin.

“Hmm,” he smiles playfully, “Jake gets lots of things.”

“Does he?”

“Yeah… and maybe I want this to be my thing.” He kisses you quickly before he puts the cigarette in his mouth and leans close to your ear. “I bet if I stuck my hand down your trousers my fingers would come back soaking, wouldn’t they?”

“Steven,” you try to chastise but your voice comes out all whiney and desperate. You can’t take your eyes off the way the cigarette just hangs from the corner of his mouth, bobbing with every word.

He chuckles, taking it from between his lips so he can kiss you roughly, and hold the back of your neck with his other hand.

You lick hungrily into his mouth and push him back against the wall, trying to regain some control over yourself and the situation.

He lets you, in all honesty he always lets you do whatever you wanted, smiling the whole time when you pull back like the cat that got the cream. “Never thought you’d have a smoking kink, love.” He puts the cigarette back in his mouth.

“It’s not a smoking kink,” you scowl playfully and drop to your knees.

“No?” He teases lightly, pretending to take a long drag.

“No.” You unbuckle his jeans, pulling down the zip and relishing the sound of his contented sigh as you palm his cock.

There’s a little wet patch of precum already soaking into his boxers from the tip, a visual cue of how desperate he is despite his quite commendable effort at seeming calm. His dick twitches as you touch him, as you languidly push his trousers and underwear down his hips and take his length in hand.

“No,” you repeat, “I have a you smoking kink.” You give him a little smile as you look up at him before you run the tip of your tongue along his velvet warm length.

He shivers, letting out a small cry of satisfaction as his eyes close and eyebrows pinch together. The sight of him pressing his head back against the tiles with the cigarette at the edge of his mouth sends a sharp thrill down your spine.

You lap at his slit, board, flat licks that have him shaking and squirming in no time as you lightly squeeze and pump him from the base.

He tries to stay still, to let you play and tease at your own pace for as long as possible. But his self control is rapidly dissolving.

By the time you suck his bulbous head into your mouth he’s practically crawling up the walls. He groans low in his chest, glancing down so he can watch you slowly bob your head back and forth, taking him deeper and deeper each time.

You moan around him, trying to open your jaw and take him further but he’s so thick it’s nearly impossible.

Heat burns distractingly at your core and you can’t sit still, shifting on your knees to rub your legs together to try to relieve a fraction of that maddening ache.

He wants to grab you by the back of the neck and force his cock down your throat, wants to buck and trust and cum so deeply until he spills from your lips.

Instead he bites his teeth together, almost severing the cigarette in two and claws at the tiles as bliss twists and grows in his stomach.

You manage to take him a fraction deeper, your throat aching as you pick up the pace, squeezing his thighs and swirling your tongue around his tip as if your life depended on it, as if his pleasure was the only way for you to breathe.

His stomach muscles clench, balls contract and you can tell he’s painfully close by the little whimpered moans that slip past his lips with every breath. You’re about to-

Suddenly he grabs hold of your chin, pulling you back off him and groaning at the trail of salvia that connects him to your mouth. He pulls you up and into his arms with a rare show of his strength and kisses you deeply, the cigarette falling to the floor.

“Steven,” you moan, the sound muffled by his lips.

“Off, off, off,” he mutters, undoing your trousers and pulling off your top and bra. He strips you so fast it makes your head spin, and then he’s sitting on the toilet lid and pulling you down onto his lap to straddle his thighs.

Your hands fly to his shoulders and you have just enough time to tug his t-shirt over his head before he presses two thick fingers into your entrance.

You moan, keening as he curls them, the sensation like lightening along your nerves and Steven swears.

“Oh god, you’re so fucking ready for me,” he mumbles, salivating as he sticks his fingers in his mouth and pushes you down onto his needy, weeping cock. His hips instinctively buck up as his tip notches in your entrance, sheathing himself halfway.

You moan, high pitched and throwing your head back as he stretches you deliciously. You barely have a second to adjust before he grabs your hips and forces you all the way down and it’s perfect. So full and hitting so wonderfully deep that you gasp. You can feel your slick gushing out of you, making a mess of him as he bounces you on his cock.

He groans, eyes glazed over, blurting out fragments of sentences with every thrust. “Can’t believe you like me smokin’ that much, fucking amazing, so wet, squeezing me so tight, ah,” he moans loudly, pushing his forehead against yours and kissing you messily, so hungry for every part of you.

You gasp against him, meeting his powerful thrusts with your own and chasing that sweet release so desperately.

“Gonna fucking smoke everyday, become a chain smoker just so I can always have you whining on my cock, every single second, just keep you filled up and- oh shit!” Pleasure cracks into his being, surprising him with its suddenness and intensity. He moans loudly, rutting against you as he pumps you full of his spend. His skin sweaty, his hair clingy to his forehead as his hips slow and he comes down from his high.

Steven looks up at you with dark eyes, “fuck, sorry.” He kisses you sweetly, still breathing hard.

“It’s okay,” you stroke his head and he preens up into your touch. Your thighs twitch, your need still thudding hard and making you squirm ever so slightly.

Steven hisses softly at the movement, overstimulation flooding his mind with both pain and pleasure.

“Sorry, I-”

“Keep moving,” he groans, pressinging his face against your shoulder and lightly biting your skin. “Cum on me.” He mutters, keeping his left arm wrapped around your waist while he snakes his right hand down between your bodies and rolls your clit between his nimble fingers.

You gasp and whine lightly. Rocking yourself up and into his touch.

Steven moans again, mouthing at your skin and the wet mess between your legs as you move. He thrusts upwards shallowly, rubbing you in perfect time.

“Steven,” you pant, squirming as your legs start to spasm, the pleasure so close it’s on the tip of your tongue.

“That’s it love,” he whispers so softly, “that’s it.” He looks up at you with his large doe eyes, completely enraptured with you in that moment. “You can do it.”

You cry out, so, so close it’s driving you mad. The pull of his fingers, the rock of his hips, the fact that he’s still hard inside of you and pushing so deep.

“You can cum for me,” he bites his bottom lip, his voice like silk. “Can’t you?”

Pleasure spikes up and overtakes you, blossoming out and hitting every nerve. You moan, quieting yourself ever so slightly by pressing your lips to his and kissing him messily.

Steven echoes the sound as you cum, your walls squeezing him so tightly and sending an aftershock of deep satisfaction through his veins.

You breathe heavily as you calm, and he hugs you tightly, grinning and still looking up at you with those beautiful eyes.

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Thank you for reading!

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help-itrappedmyself · 15 days

Text

Danny Punches a Clown part 9

masterpost

Danny is led up an unnecessarily long flight of stairs into a fancy house. The floors are all hardwood with rugs interspersed throughout the rooms.

Hood starts leading him down the hallway and he can see paintings and antiquities, so many rooms. He is reminded vaguely of Vlad's mansion back in Wisconsin, but this seems larger, and better decorated. They end up in a living room of sorts, lots of different chairs and couches wand a huge TV lining a whole wall.

Danny sits in one of the armchairs. Agent A soon comes in, with another tray of food. This tray seems to be for more than just him though. Hopefully. He could never hope to finish that many snacks by himself.

A isn't wearing a mask this time. “No masks upstairs, Master Jason. I'll keep the boy company until the rest of you get here.”

Hood (Jason?) leaves and A introduces himself as Alfred. Apparently, he is the butler of the people that live here. Makes sense that people rich enough to live in this house would have a butler.

Alfred lets him sit and eat for a few minutes in silence. The room gradually becomes more full as people come in and take their seats. They all introduce themselves as they come in and sit down. Damian and Dick sit together on a couch, with a girl he knows he’s never met before, Cassandra on Dick’s other side. Jason comes in and takes another armchair. Tim sits on a couch, a blond girl, Stephanie, and another boy, Duke, sit next to him. They all start working. Seems like Stephanie and Duke are in college, and Tim works at a big company.

Once the oldest person yet comes in, Bruce, and sits on an armchair, they all stop whatever else they were doing and turn to face him. He’s pretty sure he’s met most of them before while they were in masks, but other than Jason he doesn’t really know who is who.

“Can you tell us more about where you’re from now?” Bruce asked.

Danny looks around the face in the room. They’ve all been helpful and kind. And he’s so tired of lying all the time. They’re most likely going to kick him out once they get their answers anyway.

“I’m from a different dimension. I fled here after a fight.” Danny admitted.

They already seem less shocked than Danny would have imagined, and they aren’t calling him crazy yet, so this is going great!

“There is a… war, almost? Starting in that world.” Danny gets fully into storytelling mode, as none of the others seem like they’re going to interrupt his thought process. “It all started with my parents actually. They started building a portal to the ghost zone, and that’s when it all went downhill really. Especially for me. I had my best friends over, they wanted to see the portal, so I took them down to the basement.”

Danny took a deep breath. “My parents had put the on button inside of the portal, and when I went in… I hit it on accident. The portal turned on with me inside.”

Everyone in the room remained quiet, and Danny couldn’t bear looking at their faces right now. He did his best to move on. “The portal was open, and ectoplasm started seeping into our town, we didn’t realize at the time, but that becomes a bigger problem later. At the time, we -or I- was busy becoming a one-man army against an invasion of ghosts. My parents started developing weapons. The government declared any being whose body could process or contained ectoplasm was non-sentient and could be kidnapped, experimented on, and/or killed at will. The Anti-Ecto Acts. The government branch dedicated to ghosts, the G.I.W, invaded Amity. Me and my friends had been capturing the ghosts causing problems and sending them back into the ghost zone. Now, we had to do that while trying to play keep-away with my parents and the government, while trying not to get captured myself. The government decided they wanted to send a nuke into the portal, trying to kill all ghosts at once."

“I had to stop it. I was gathering all ghosts left in Amity to bring them with me to the Zone. My friends were going to close the portal behind us, destroy it. My parents had just finished their new gun.” Danny’s hand went to his side. “They chased us. I made it through the portal, with as many ghosts as I could find. Theoretically, the portal was closed once I left.”

Danny was quiet long enough that the others realized he was done.

“I’m sorry that happened.” Danny heard, he looked up, but didn’t know who had said it. They all seemed sad.

“And you’re… A ghost then?” Jason asked.

“Only half.” They all looked bewildered at that. “It’s complicated."

“So, you can’t go home?” Bruce asked.

Danny shook his head. “If all went well then the portal doesn’t exist anymore, not that I could leave this dimension without a portal. I’m stuck here.”

“You’ll be staying with us then.” Bruce nodded firmly. “Metas are protected in this world, Danny. I’ve worked on a team with a ghost before. You’re safe here, Danny.”

#dcxdp #dpxdc #batman #danny phantom #fanfiction #my writing #danny punches a clown #they unlock backstory

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morganbritton132 · 10 months

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My friend is a high school teacher, and the other day, he told us this story of when one of his students said, "Going 90." And proceeded to type his chair AND his desk to the side aka 90°. The kid landed on his side and got out his paper to start working. He said, "I think better this way." And my friend just had no clue what to do, lol.

I could help but think of Steve just standing there with his hands on his hips, trying to hide his laughter with a look of disappointment. And one of the other students gets it on film. So Eddie sees it and starts doing it everywhere as a joke.

The whole class is in on it which is how it ends up on TikTok for Eddie to see.

Mr. H hasn’t been in a bad mood per se, but there’s something off about him that his whole sixth period has picked up on. It’s not the low energy tiredness that sometimes lingers after he misses a day of work because of a seizure or the tense stiffness that’s present when he’s trying to work through a migraine.

It’s something else. It’s like he’s…sad.

He just seems really sad and the students do not like it, so sixth period looks towards their class clown and Jeremy says, “No problem, guys. I got this.”

They are waiting in anticipation as the class starts.

Steve takes attendance, nothing. He passes out a worksheet and notes, nothing. He starts the lesson and nothing happens until Steve asks, “Can anybody tell me what the characteristics of a right triangle are?”

There’s a moment of hesitation as everybody waits to see if that’s the moment but when Jeremy doesn’t do anything, Annalise answers, “One of the angles is ninety degrees.”

“That’s ri-“

“Going 90, Mr. H!” Jeremy shouts from the back of the classroom and then proceeds to yeet his desk, his chair, and himself sideways onto the floor.

The reverberation of the desk hitting the tile echoes around the room, followed by a round of giggling as Jeremy casually gets his spiral notebook and a pencil. He presses both of them to the desk so they don’t fall.

He’s writing his name at the top corner of his worksheet when he sees Mr. H’s shoes approach. His socks match his tie today. Jeremy thinks that’s very stylish of him. He mentions it.

Steve makes a strangled noise and when Jeremy looks up at him, he sees that he has his hands steepled in front of his face like he’s praying for patience. At the angle that Jeremy’s at, he can see Steve pressing his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh.

Finally, he puts his hands on his hips and asks, “Why?”

“I’m putting myself in the mindset of a right angle so I can learn better,” Jeremy answers and Steve presses his lips together again. He shakes his head so Jeremy presses on, “It’s like method acting but for math. I’m becoming the angle. There’s like, a whole bunch of research and stuff about it online.”

Steve’s shoulders shake when he asks, “That so?”

“Yep, Mr. H. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it.”

“Yeh, that’s up,” Steve composes himself. “That’s hypoten-news to me.”

The whole class groans.

Eddie rolls his eyes at the pun but laughs at the three different videos he sees of the interaction. He thinks it’s hilarious and he thinks it’s even funnier when Steve retells the story later. He comments on one of the videos, “V funny, gonna steal this.”

A few days go by and then Eddie posts a Tiktok that’s just a compilation of him shouting ‘Going 90’ and Steve scrambling to catch him before he falls over. With each clip, Steve’s reaction gets slower and slower.

The first time Eddie does it, Steve drops everything he’s holding to stop Eddie tipping the barstool he’s on onto the floor. The second time, he follows Eddie into the grass when he goes 90 off the deck. The fifth time, Steve bear hugs him before he can get the phrase out. The fifteenth time, he just lets Eddie fall.

#great prompt! freaking hilarious and props to your teacher friend because I would’ve just laughed #Eddie filmed every clip for his compilation in two days #he had bruises #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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genericpuff · 5 days

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I've been seeing you say/speculate Rachel Smythe has been cut loose from webtoon, could you elaborate what you mean by that?

It's only a tinfoil hat theory that people should take with MOUNTAINS of salt (seriously, I'm more likely to believe that Rachel really is just done with LO), but there's a general suspicion that LO wasn't meant to end here and that Webtoons decided to cut the cord. I've made a post about it before but some new stuff has surfaced since then.

1.) The announcement the series was ending was made quietly at NYCC and not shared to either Webtoons' socials or Rachel's socials.

The only way fans initially knew about the series ending was through a screencap from the Discord where someone else who had been attending NYCC passed on the info from a Q&A that LO would be entering its final arc.

For a good while the only other way to know the series was ending was through the Discord, a Cosmopolitan article, and my own post.

Though it sounds odd for a series to get cancelled halfway through its third season, it's not uncommon for Webtoons to suddenly axe series while they're on their midseason hiatuses, it's happened before. So there's a general suspicion that Rachel may have found out during NYCC that LO would only be given one more arc.

2.) The actual finale announcement was made in a text post on Instagram that suddenly announced it would be ending on May 11th, despite the fact that there was still lots to wrap up in the story.

What this implies is that Rachel was given one more arc, with no concrete end date... until Webtoons told her to wrap it up in a limited number of episodes, hence why despite us knowing it was in its final arc, the end date still felt too soon. This is also supported by the fact that her initial announcement was vaguely "early/mid 2024" - she couldn't give a more accurate end date because she didn't plan for the actual ending.

3.) Things that Rachel has said implies that she was either hoping for the final arc to go on longer, or that she didn't think LO was going to be ending now.

(that "nothing is set in stone" quote further supports the theory that she may have been hoping to get renewed in spite of the lukewarm ending announcement - that the only reason the announcement was so quiet was because WT hadn't fully committed to it yet and wanted to see how the series would do upon its return; now that they see it falling behind to other series, it might mean WT became more sure in their decision to cut it and gave her an actual deadline to wrap it up by.)

4.) Webtoons has stopped promoting Lore Olympus despite it ending.

Any promotional spots that it has gotten have been stuffed into the dead zone of the banner reels (seriously, anything past the 3rd spot is practically useless because it takes actual committed scrolling to get there vs. the first 1-3 banner spots which can be seen as soon as you open the app/site) and the banner art itself does not in any way advertise the series being in its final arc. These banners also only seem to be appearing for a day at most, compared to the days upwards of weeks they used to get.

Webtoons also hasn't been doing any sort of promoting on their socials for it. Considering The Mafia Nanny has been consistently beating out LO in the top rankings for weeks now, and that LO's rating and view count is still dropping, it appears that Webtoons has finally given up on shoving it down people's throats and put their focus elsewhere.

Again, this is all tinfoil hat speculation, so take it with massive doses of salt. Considering this is Webtoons, I wouldn't be surprised if they finally decided to put LO out of its misery, but this is also Rachel and I wouldn't blame her in the slightest if she finally wanted to be done with it after the past two years of people clowning on it. And I say that knowing I, myself, am a clown LOL

Either way, I feel like either outcome is plausible in its own ways, but whatever is the true reason, it doesn't change the fact that LO is ending and has 3 episodes left to wrap itself up. And whatever comes after will likely involve the launch of Inklore which was estimated for the spring.

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #anon ask me anything #anon ama #ama #ask me anything

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wood-white-writer · 4 months

Text

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [9/…]

— OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

“And I know no one will save me, I just need someone to kiss.

Give me one good honest kiss and I’ll be alright.”

— Mitski, “Nobody”

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. In which there is lost affections, mentions of the past, and re-bonding over a bath. Unshared thoughts and feelings of regret return from years of negligence, and whereas some aspects remain buried, others have a chance to resurface from the depths.

Warnings: fem!reader, LA!Verse, slight canon divergence, morally grey reader, mentions of violence and blood, dual-pov (though primarily Buggy's), Buggy being a simp, implications of Buggy being a horny simp

A/N: AND HERE WE ARE! FINALLY, AFTER SO MANY WEEKS, THE NEW CHAPTER IS UP! Seriously, I want to thank you all for your immense patience and support. As I mentioned in a previous post, work has been hectic as hell and I know I wrote that this chapter would hopefully be finished last week, but life took its toll. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this chapter, though I myself have mixed feelings about it.

INCLUDES SOME SELF-MADE SKETCHES AT THE BOTTOM, so you’re warned

The sun warms your face as you breathe in the fresh scent of the sea. You’re lounging on deck, hands folded behind your head and feet hanging over the railings in a rather peculiar position, but you’re perfectly content.

Luffy benched you for the rest of the voyage to Arlong Park, a decision you initially found insulting to no short degree. Well, maybe benched is not the right term to use, but more like “I don’t want you to die, and I think you need to relax this once”.

You had argued that no, you’re fine and the love bites Arlong left you are nothing compared to the marks Mihawk left on Zoro, and he’s still up and about as usual.

But Luffy is firm about his decision, and what the Captain says goes.

So, here you are, enjoying some quiet all while letting your wounds heal, and it seems that nothing can hope to put an end to this ambiance that is—

“HEY! THERE ‘YA ARE!”

…. You spoke too soon. Way too soon.

A shadow falls over your face like a curtain and blocks the view of the sun. A shadow belonging to - you make a lucky guess - a severed head that’s been talking for way longer than a severed head typically should, in your experience.

You open one lazy eye to pinpoint the exact perpetrator and see a bright red dot staring down at you from Usopp’s grip.

Buggy winks at you, making those mildly irritating clink-clink noises.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” Usopp grumbles. “You take him! He’s annoying and keeps telling me my nose is too long!”

“Because it is, you shidiot!”

“It’s average!”

“That’s what your mom said!”

“You keep my mom’s name out of your mouth, you psychotic, fucking—!”

“Be quiet.”

Both the clown and the slingshot simultaneously shut their mouths before things have a chance to escalate on a non-verbal scale, and you take this as a sign that your break is officially over and buried ten feet under.

Stretching your arms out loud enough to pop a few vertebrae, you shift to lean your back against the railing and give both boys an unimpressed look-over, like a disappointed mother having caught both of her children in the act of something. “It’s too early for you to be making a ruckus.”

“It’s 11 am,” Usopp points out.

“Still too early.” Deciding that you’d rather not deal with this with more effort than you’re willing to spend, you return to your previous position. “Leave the head, or don’t. Just let me rest.”

“Fine by me.”

With a thud and an “OW FUCK!”, Usopp unceremoniously drops the clown and forgoes his Buggy-sitting duties to do whatever he wants to do, leaving you to pick up the slack.

A string of curses flow from Buggy’s mouth, which you only vaguely pay attention to. There was something along the lines of “Long-nosed asshat,” and “Right on the nose”, but you abandon all interest in favor of feeling the sun on your cheek.

“So…” you hear him jump a little closer. “Alone at last.”

You don’t answer.

“What? Don’t give me that! I thought we were good!”

You remain selectively mute.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me! I don’t like it!”

“You survived it for twenty years. I’m sure you can stand it for a few more minutes.”

“…. Seriously?”

“Mhmm.”

You don’t know what possesses him, but he keeps quiet for most of the next thirty minutes, and you take the time to continue basking in the sun.

It’s a luxury you can rarely afford, and you’ll be damned if it gets ruined now or all time, least of all by him. You’re not going to even open the can of worms that is last night’s events, so you lock it in a chest to be dug up for another day.

Not now. It won't be that long until you reach Arlong Park, and shit will go down. This might be the only chance you get to replenish your strength and gods do you need it now more than ever.

"… Hey?” Buggy starts.

You let him decide whether to perceive your silence as an opening or a locked door.

“I’m bored.”

“Tough.”

“Can’t we do something else?”

“We could fish. Your head might serve as a good bait.” Despite yourself, your lip tugs a little in what is supposed to be a halfway smirk. The image of Buggy dangling above the shark-infested waters from a hook to his bandana would be an entertaining sight to behold.

He swallows audibly. “Was that a joke?”

“Keep bothering me and we’ll find out soon enough.”

“C’mon! Don’t be like that! Seriously, I’m bored! Ain’t much you can do when you’re just a head… except to give one, but that’s beside the point.”

Too much detailing, you think. He wants entertainment of any kind; you want peace and quiet. What to do and how to kill two birds with one stone? You open one eye and let it drift over to Buggy, who in turn is staring intently at you.

In the sun, you make out every detail of his rugged face. His make-up’s almost wiped completely off the skin, with only remnants of the red lipstick and blue diamonds vaguely in place. His stubbles have grown slightly, given the lack of access to a barber, and if you get close enough, he probably stinks of—

A lightbulb goes off in your head. A devious one, blinking to every corner of your brain.

Despite what anyone thinks, you’re not above being petty.

With a push, you sit up and glance over at him. “Anything?”

Buggy raises his eyebrows and nods desperately. “Yeah! Anything! As long as I ain’t got to sit here doing naught-shit, I’m game!”

You turn to him, put each of your hands to the edges of his jaw, and lift him a little closer to you. Whether from the sun or just him alone, he’s warm and soft under your digits.

“Alright,” is all you say.

Buggy beams much like the bulb in your head, and a loud bark of laughter erupts from his mouth. You almost pity him, pity him for being oblivious to what’s to come.

But it needs to be done.

There’s no other way around it and he’s had it coming. He deserves this, you tell yourself. He deserves every inch of ruthlessness you can offer, and you’ll deliver.

————

Buggy blanches, lips wobbling in horror as he slowly glances up at you. Betrayal fills his bright-blue eyes and, for the first time since Orange Town, he sees you as the beast you both know you are.

He’s afraid.

He’s afraid of you.

He knows you can be vindictive; he knows you can be brutal, but in all the time he’s known you, he’s never perceived you as cruel.

Maybe it’s time for him to reassess that thought.

“No,” he whispers softly. “No, please.”

Your face is blank, and cold, and he doesn’t know if it’s a trick of the light or not, but there’s a shadow across your face that darkens everything but your eyes. Those bright eyes he used to hold in such high regard.

“You want my forgiveness,” you state calmly as you gradually lower him to his demise. “You have to earn it.

“Please, anything but this. I’ll do anything other than this!”

But his pleas earn no mercy from you. He wiggles in your grasp like a fish out of water, and as much as he tries to beg and move and free himself, your hold is iron incarnate.

Buggy lets out an ear-curdling scream the moment he feels the water under his neck.

“NOOOOO!”

————

Honestly, how childish, you think as you begin to soak him in the basin you procured from the kitchens. He hisses like a cat as you pour the water over his head, rinsing his hair. Try as he might, he cannot escape your grasp.

It’s not even deep enough to reach his chin, and still, he acts like it’s acid he’s been thrown into.

But you’re determined, this has to be done.

“Oh, quit whining” you chastise, getting drops of water your way with all his scuttling. “You need this.”

“You’re gonna drown me!” he accuses.

“It’s soap and water, and it’s not even that deep.”

“You say that now, sure! But the moment you let go, plop! Oh, there goes Buggy the Clown! Taken from this world too early!”

You roll your eyes. “I’m holding you up, you’re not going to drown. Now, stop acting like a child.”

Buggy is restless and continues to thrash around for a good ten seconds more before finally relenting, a look of sour disapproval on his face. It’s so caricatured and animated that it threatens to make a suppressed chuckle leave your throat.

He still looks the same when he’s mad.

Now that he’s finally calm, you lower him so that the edge of his neck finally stands on the bottom of the basin. Then, you soak a rag and raise it towards his face.

Buggy flinches. “Can you …. Eh… leave the face?”

“There’s hardly anything there anymore, and it’ll irritate your skin if you leave it on for too long.”

“I think I can tell you what irritates me or not, like this bird bath for instance, thank you very much.” He scowls and edges further away from the wet rag. “Seriously, just leave it.”

“I’ll reapply the make-up.”

“… What?”

When you first boarded the Merry, you happened to find some leftover make-up hidden away in one of the shelves. It was strange, considering how the boat was freshly built, and imagined that one of the builders had taken some personal liberty in the large space before the project was finished.

For whatever reason, you didn’t throw it out, though you didn’t use it yourself.

If it can get him to accept the fact that he needs a wash, you’re willing to do it.

“I’ll put on your make-up if I can wash off what you currently have,” you clarify. “Deal?”

Buggy goes quiet, and his eyes widen slightly, but not out of horror or dread. It’s more like … when you catch the sight of something unexpected; a delayed reaction that stirs feelings you have yet to decipher.

Finally, after some internal debates with himself, Buggy nods. “Fuckin’ fine then,” he utters, and despite the crudeness of his words, they’re lenient.

Content, you gently place your free hand to his left to keep him stable and use the other one to carefully drag the rag across his stained cheek.

Buggy watches you intently through the process, never taking his eyes off you unless you’re wiping off the painted diamonds on his eyes. Your hands, for once, are soft to the touch. They’re soft for him, as though a single misplaced touch might shatter him like glass.

He used to be acquainted with the soft touches long before the cold and brutal ones. Soft fingers that pinched his cheeks as you helped apply the paint over his face.

Soft touches against his arm when he was feeling particular for some reason, whether it was good or bad.

Your fingers intertwined with his’ as you came to terms with your captain’s death, sitting by the edge of the docks as the rain poured from above. It was cold, he was freezing, and too close to the waters for his comfort, but he wanted nothing more than to sit in the rain with you and share the heat from your fingers.

Even after everything, you’re still capable of reserving those touches for him.

After wiping the makeup completely off him, you raise the cup and fill it with water. “Close your eyes.”

He doesn’t want to, but he does and feels the water rushing down like the rain on those docks.

When he’s finally finished, you fish him up from the basin and put him down atop a soft towel on the table. Like a cat, he instinctively shakes off the residue of water, only to find you already raising a new towel towards him.

He stops moving, and you takes this as your cue to continue. You’re attentive, he notices. You wipe his face first, then his ears, then his hair. You dry it and scratch his scalp at the same time through the fabric, and he instinctively leans against your touch.

This is … nice.

“When did you cut your hair?” You ask out of the blue as you continue to dry him, making sure to leave no spot too humid.

He almost failed to catch onto your words with how at ease he is. “Hmmm?”

“You used to have long hair before,” you elaborate. “Why did you cut it?”

“…. Too much of a hassle to maintain,” he answers after some thought. “It’s hard to find the time to take care of it.”

“… I see.”

The truth is, he cut it right after he left. Not particularly clean either. You know that feeling you get when you feel like you’re losing control, and ridding yourself of any additional weight seems to relieve it?

Well, that’s what Buggy did.

He cut it with a pair of rusty scissors, severing chunks at a time — some bigger than others — until all he was left with was pieces sticking out to each side like a madman.

It didn’t help though. It didn’t make him feel any lighter from the weight on his chest. From that gnawing feeling.

Still, he maintained the habit and got better with practice. It became more of a practical thing with time; he was a busy man, and he could do well with fewer things to get in his eyes, but it never eased the pain.

But feeling the tips of your fingers lightly graze his hair, however, he feels more relieved than he’s done in the last twenty years.

After a few minutes, you remove the towel and give him a neutral one-over. It’s the first time you’ve seen him as an adult without any of that makeup, and you’re reminded of just how much he’s changed, but also how he’s not.

Even after all this time, it’s still Buggy.

Buggy sees you watching him, and he can’t help but feel slightly self-conscious now that your eyes are on him without his usual armor.

But you don’t comment on it, nor show any surprise in any sense of the word. There are times when he hates your face, not because of anything superficial, but because you make it so damn challenging for him to figure out what goes in that brain of yours. He’s reminded of how you were when you were younger, how lifeless you used to be, and it feels like you’ve regressed to that state.

Another thing to add to the shitlist of things he’s regretful about.

He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something when the door suddenly bursts open. Buggy jumps whereas you merely look over your shoulder to spot Zoro standing there, his eyes narrowed between you and the clown.

Buggy frowns.

“Zoro,” you speak plainly, as if you failed to notice his annoyance towards the spectacle presented before him. “Is there anything?”

“The hell is this?” His eyes flicker between you and Buggy like it’s the worst show on earth. “What’s going on?”

“He reeked,” you explain. “I have merely been rectifying it for the sake of our noses.”

Buggy wants to argue with the statement that No, he fucking doesn’t, but he suppresses it for the sake of figuring out where this conversation’s headed.

“Since when do we make it a habit of bathing prisoners?” Zoro asks, his hand resting on the handle of his sword.

“Since when have we had prisoners?” You counter.

The swordsman scoffs. “The clown’s needed upstairs in ten.”

“Sure.”

“I’m right here, you know?”

Zoro gives him a nasty look and nothing more before heading back out the door, shutting it with a forceful thud.

“Why do you even stick around with these nobodies?!” Buggy questions. “They can’t navigate for shit, they have no sense of preservation, and they suck at fighting!”

You shift back to raise a knowing eyebrow at him. “They defeated you, didn’t they?”

“That’s—! … I was outnumbered, it wasn’t a fair fight!”

“No fights are fair in the life of piracy,” you point out.

He bites the inside of his cheek. “All I’m saying is, you’re too powerful to be with these losers. You could join my crew! Think about it! We’d be unstoppable!”

“You mean, join the same people who locked me up and whose asses I subsequently kicked?”

“Exactly! Don’t worry, they’ll get over it! Once they see how awesome you are, they’ll accept you with open ar—!”

“I decline.”

Buggy pauses, his enthusiasm promptly vanishing and getting replaced with bitter disappointment. “You’re not even going to consider it?”

“Why would I?” You wipe away a descending drop from his right eye. “I have no interest in joining another crew.”

“You say that, and yet here you are with these losers.”

“I was never going to stay permanently.”

He pauses. “You weren’t?”

“I’m here for Luffy, and once I’ve decided that he can hold his own weight above the waters, I’ll leave.”

“… Where will you go? After, then?”

It takes you a moment to answer, like you don’t know the answer yourself quite yet. Your hand stills for a moment before resuming with the task at hand.

“Who knows?” You shrug. “The sea is my home. I’ve missed it, so I will remain where the waves pull me.”

That won’t do on its own. Stay with me. Buggy wants to ask, and if he had knees, he’d ask on them. Come with me. Be with me. You won’t have to be an official member of his crew; you don’t have to bend to him. You just have to stay.

Stay with him.

That’s all he’ll ask.

Stay with him until he has the opportunity to figure out a way to make it up to you.

Stay with him so he can compensate for the twenty years you suffered in each other’s absences.

Just stay.

“Hey.” He’s surprised by his own initiative. “Why’d you even leave your crew and stick your feet on land if you love the sea so much?”

You raise an eyebrow in question.

“I mean, you were Captain of the Cross-Haired Pirates, for crying out loud! You used to be legendary!” He proclaims, almost saddened by your apparent dismissal of your previous title. “You had fame, berries, a reputation that preceded everyone! Everyone feared you! Why’d you ditch all of that? Because of that rubbery prick? Because of Shanks?”

“Is that really what you want to ask me?”

“Yeah!”

You sigh through your nose and put the towel down to recline in your chair. “I didn’t become a Captain because that’s what I wanted. I became a Captain because it provided an outlet.”

“An outlet? For fucking what?”

It takes you a few seconds to finally reach a suitable response.

“Anger,” you admit calmly, your arms crossing over your chest as the words stir on your tongue. They must taste bitter. “I was angry, and it festered every day, churning into a poisonous substance in my body. Being a captain with a crew, I could take it out on whoever I wanted. Pirate, marine, unruly crew member, it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.”

It makes sense now, he thinks, the reputation you’ve garnered over the years. Beware the Beast in the East, people would chant in passing towns and harbors, like you were a ghost story. Her eyes were like swords, and her hands were twice as sharp.

There wasn’t a single place where blood didn’t paint your steps.

He never met you while you were a captain; he didn’t want to, couldn’t find it in himself to pop by even once. Still, he kept your poster hidden in the dark depths of the chest in his quarters, if only for acrimonious reminiscence. He would spend some drunken nights doing nothing but staring at it, and it was like he could feel your rage seep through the ink on the page and scorch his fingers. A reminder of what he did.

Now, looking at you and comparing you to the poster, he fails to see the resemblance. He doubts he could’ve spotted it had you reunited earlier on. Captain Cross-Hairs was sharp around the edges, with pecks of blood on her cheeks and fresh scars on her face.

He licks his lips in deliberation. “You were pissed… because of what?”

Because of me?

“I don’t know.” He watches your chest expand with your breath, mesmerized simply by watching you commit to living. There used to be a time when you didn’t. “I didn’t care about money or power. I didn’t care for much of anything, except to purge that rage from my body. I fought, and I killed. It helped, for a time; I felt satisfied, but after a while, you grow bored of eating the same meal.”

When he looked at you when you were younger, he imagined he saw the scorching sun. Burning and bright and enlightening.

You were … everything, but he never imagined that the same fire that used to mesmerize him would burn a thousand ships in his absence.

But he was a boy back then. He’s older now, more experienced in the ways of life, he knows better.

He knows enough.

"But the boy," you say with a certain gentleness in your voice that does not evade his notice. "He's good."

"He's weak," Buggy scoffs, feeling his belly fill with sour smoke. He recognizes the feeling. It's the feeling he got when he watched Shanks talk to you that night by the fire. The same feeling he got when he watched you stay with Shanks that day.

"He's defeated every opponent he's come across."

"Didn't beat Arlong, though." Buggy points out with a smidgen of childish pride and smirks. "Got his ass handed to him real good if I remember correctly."

You look back at him in that narrow way you usually reserve for him when he's crossed a line, and he can already tell he fucked up.

"I watched him grow, Buggy.” You say firmly. “I was there for all of it. I watched him learn, I watched him fight, I watched him leave land. He’s not like us — he doesn’t waste time on regret. He’ll become better than we ever were.”

Buggy glowers but doesn’t say anything else, insisting on letting your words simmer in his brain until he can find the will to let them go.

You procure something from the drawers and it’s only when he looks down that he realizes it’s the make-up. With gentle hands, you lift him and place him in your lap, the brush already blue and ready.

“I’m not here to talk about what used to be,” you say. “Now hold still.”

The diamonds across his eyes come first, the brushing makes his face tickle and it’s only by sheer willpower alone that he manages to refrain from staring at you.

“Takes us back,” he whispers and closes his eyes so that you can finish. “Doesn’t it?”

He hears something akin to a chortle that doesn’t quite reach your throat, but he considers it a small win.

“You looked a mess,” you answer. “A child could’ve done a better job than I did.”

“Wasn’t bad for your first try, though.”

Except that it was. It was pretty bad. Your hands were shaking, and you held your breath like you were afraid of making a mistake. By the time you were finished, he looked like a canvas painted by a child, but he didn’t have the heart to tell you that.

He used to think that it was strange. You were skilled at nearly everything you committed yourself to, without even trying.

When he thinks back on it, maybe it wasn’t skill; maybe it was just an ingrained fear of failure that drove you to become the best at what you did.

Then again, your worst could never be the worst in his eyes.

You finish his eyes, and when he looks up at you, he sees the same determination and focus in your eyes as he did that day. It’s the same look you have when you’re targeting something, be it an enemy or a point of interest. It’s always the same.

And he can’t look away.

You move onto the crossbones next, and he’s happy he won’t have to close his eyes for this one. He’s not certain you can pull off his iconic look, but he’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for now.

After all, you strive for perfection. He doubts this will be an exception.

Get it? Perfection and except— You know what? Nevermind.

He can feel your attention in every stroke of the brush, feel the white paint glisten on his skin before it dries. Your warmth lingers like burning embers, he feels like getting too close will burn him, yet he wants nothing more than blisters upon his skin.

He looks at you, looks into your focused eyes, and he feels … something tightening, back where his body is. It could be his stomach, his head… other places, but he can’t tell. Arlong’s been busy abusing his body long enough that he can’t differentiate between a kick or a punch anymore.

But this isn’t Arlong.

It’s you.

He can handle a tight body if it’s because of you.

When he was young, and his body began to work in the way of a man, he would sometimes wake up and feel sweaty and … stiff. He knew enough to know what it was, to know what caused it, but he didn’t know how to approach the situation.

He knew the source of his frustrations. He knew how to alleviate them, but he didn’t. He respected you far too much to ever dare cross the threshold. He figured that simply talking to you, simply holding your hand, and being at your side would be enough. He would be content with just that.

But he watched you … develop. It didn’t seem like such a big deal at the time, but he couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. He imagined feeling your flesh under his digits. The softness across your chest and hips. The warm skin.

He looks at you now, sees the scars peeking from under your shirt, on your face, and he wants to feel the rough edges.

Buggy gulps and he’s rather happy now that the rest of his body is not attached to him. He’s lost enough dignity as it is.

“And now, the mouth.”

Yes, he wants to touch that t—

You take the lipstick, and in a straight line, smear it across his mouth in a way that snaps him out of his thoughts. He can feel the warmth emitting from your thumb as you finish his face, and it takes him half a mind not to—

“Done.”

Disappointment lingers in the clown’s visage, and even when you present him a mirror and see the identical likeness to his wanted posters, it does not alleviate the feeling. For what it's worth, he's impressed with how far your make-up-applying skills have reached since last time.

It's perfect.

But it means you’re done, and the nobodies require his flashy expertise to get Miss Ginger back.

You dump the discolored water out and put the rest of the equipment away, and he feels his head weigh another ten pounds at so. He somewhat hopes it would; maybe it would be heavy enough that you wouldn’t bother carrying him up the deck?

… Oh, who is he kidding? It’s you. You won’t have any trouble in that department even if he were to weigh as much as a boulder. Ten boulders, even.

To his surprise, instead of reaching for him, you lounge back into your seat and nonchalantly cross your arms and ankles. He’s confused. Weren’t you going to go up with him already?

“If Zoro needs you, he can get you himself.”

That’s what you’ll leave it be like. He, freshly washed, dried, and painted. You, just casually sitting like you have no urgency to get back to the world.

“He’ll be pissed at you,” Buggy warns. “And probably threaten to throw you into the sea.”

You shrug, your eyes already closed, giving him no indication whatsoever that you’re particularly concerned with the veryscary swordsman. He grins with all his teeth on show.

Unfortunately, the green-haired asshole turns up not even five minutes later. All but ripping the clown by the roots of his hair and taking him away like a sack of flour. Buggy spews curses and threats, but they all fall on deaf ears.

It’s only when he’s positioned on deck that he’s finally free of his torment, if only for an hour or two. He begrudgingly instructs the long-nosed slingshot where to sail, adding a few creative insults along the way. Hey, it’s not Buggy’s fault they’re too easy to rile up.

“Is that long nose compensating for something?”

To which he earned a slap to the back of his head. From whom, he doesn’t know, but he’ll take his victories in whatever light weight they come in.

After a while, he shifts his head to eject another insult to the slingshot when he sees that you’re standing a few feet away, your arms crossed while leaning against the railing; eyes closed but face focused and attentive.

He cuts his verbal daggers down a notch.

It gets late, the sky darkens, and one after another, the crew members resign to their chambers save for the slingshot, who still insists on going for a while longer. Him, and you, surprisingly enough.

You stay, for all of it; neither complaining nor muttering a sound.

You're stoically positioned on the sidelines, hardly moving at all. He would've died if he'd been standing in the same position for more than one hour, but you endured a total of six without a shiver or a strain. Like a soldier in the rain. A monk in a temple of thorns.

A beast in an empty forest, lonesome in its hunger, yet content with what content remains buried in its stomach for the time being.

Long-nosed slingshot finally calls it a night and withdraws from the steering wheel with his hands outreached for the head. Before his dirty fingers can hope to graze the magnificent head that is Buggy's, you stretch your arm out like a shield between them.

"I'll take him."

Slingshot snorts. "Really? You want to?"

"Do you want to?"

With his hands raised in mock surrender, Slingshot relents. "... Fine, be my guest."

With a nod, you take the head and retire back to your chamber on the ship. Buggy yawns in your arms, tired, but satisfied with the warmth embracing him. Your steps feel like waves with each one you take, nudging him further and further toward the edge of sleep. Only unadulterated stubbornness keeps him awake.

It darkens for a moment. When he rouses back, he feels softness underneath him. A pillow of sorts, not comforting enough to offer him sleep, but enough to keep him relaxed.

He nudges around, like a fish in a small bowl, only to find that he's not on the table, nor in a barrel, nor a bag. The surface beneath him is made of fabric, and swings with his movements.

He's in a hammock.

More precisely, your hammock.

“Sleep.” He hears your command.

He finally locates you, seated by the window of your cabin with your palm under your chin, staring out into the darkened ocean.

He turns, voice diluted with drowsiness. “You too…”

“Soon.”

“Now," he almost whines.

The look you give him is not any different from the kind you usually provide, but it lacks the usual undertone of annoyance. He can tell you're tired, even if you're refusing to show it. The shadows under your eyes stand out more prominently, even in the dimmed candlelight.

With an inaudible sigh, you stand and while he expects you to move towards the hammock, he's disappointed to see you aiming towards the door instead.

"H-Hey, where are you going?"

"The kitchens," you respond. "You can sleep here for the night; I'll take the couch."

"That's not necessary!" He wiggles so that he can look at you from over the edge of the hammock, careful as not to fall from the height. A thought dawns over him, one that makes his cheeks feel warm. "We- We can share! I don't take a lot of space!"

"You still take up too much of it."

"Are you calling me fat?!"

He's almost insulted when you don't answer to contradict his assumption, yet despite the innate urge to defend his honor and spew shit at you, he decides to let it slide.

"C'mon! I promise I'll behave," he tries again. "You'll hardly notice me. Those couches suck balls anyway, so why not?"

He watches you give it some thought for probably a good two minutes. He expects you'll decline his proposition, finding that your own pride weighs more than the need for decent sleep.

Then, you lower your shoulders in defeat and make your way over to the hammock. "Scoot over."

He obliges rather excitedly, and when he wiggles back a bit too much to make space, he can feel gravity threaten to drop him on the other side of the hammock. Before it gets to that point, you grab him by the side of his face and hold him until you can lift yourself and lay down.

Only then do you lay him down, on the right side of your abdomen. He's mindful of the wounds that have yet to heal there, so he tries not to invade too much. Still, he can't deny, he's quite comfortable. Very comfortable.

He's the most comfortable he's been in a long time - twenty years.

He surpasses the urge to push closer to you, share your warmth, and elects to look up at the ceiling instead.

"Hope you don't snore," he jokes, only to have a yawn follow promptly behind.

"I don't snore," you answer, deadpan. "Now go to sleep."

He's not convinced, but he doesn't comment on it. This peace hangs by a thread, and he'll be damned if it's cut short now of all times. He shuts his eyes, and in his dreams, he's presented with the sun on the blue skies above.

He feels warm all over.

----

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy, @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk , @notyuralycat, @angeli-fucking-cat, @machinema7k , @shuujin, @avatar-lover, @gingernut1314, @autumn-slaves. @marvelouskatie, @floristoflillys, @dizzyenby, @redpool, @deliri-yum22, @aemondsb1tch, @ackroxia, @gayandfairycore, @knightsfavoriteprincess, @asterizee, @aamethyst23, @lizzie1107, @cyberwears, @heylookliisten, @f41k47, @beep-beep1, @crimsonflameproxy, @unpopular-sober-thoughts, @rayleeya, @timeladyrikaofgallifrey, @fanshavegottensotoxic, @fluffybunnyu, @sirenmelody23

(If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or leave a comment :))

(Additionally, some sketches of how I imagine Cross-Hairs to look like while I’m writing.)

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #one piece live action #buggy the clown x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #buggy one piece #buggy x you #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy x female reader #DMTMYHB #didn’t mean to make your heart blue

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starberry-cupcake · 17 days

Text

Me reading this book is like trying to pin things to a cork board with red thread but the things I'm trying to pin down are fog and they vanish before I can grasp them.

Here's a visual representation of me finishing a chapter:

previously, in harrowbeenie the ninth:

this happened

currently, after chapter 5 (you're gonna have to be patient with this one):

we're moving back and forth between the second and third person

knowing now the content of the letters that yandere twin had talked about in the prologue, it makes some sense

but we aren't there yet

I need to point out something I don't think I specified enough last time

ice cube barbie changed eyes

people be changin' eyes here

she used to have eyes like harrow and now she has, and I quote: "ever since you had writhed in Lyctoral agony, her eyes had turned a yellow that made you dizzy to behold: a bronzed, hot, animal yellow, as amber as the inside of an egg"

this is from gideon's last ch.: "Gideon's eyes, as they always did, startled her: their deep, chromatic amber, the startling hot gold of freshly-brewed tea"

just gonna leave that there

but now, moving forward...or backwards to ch. 3 flashback of sorts

we got a recap of most of the events we knew, but in a gideon-less ver.

I'm gonna also point out that harrowbean mentions her mother holding her wrist the same way she said ice cube barbie did when they were in the coffin hangar

another addition to the clown emperor's story is that the Resurrection is described in harrow's memories as "ten thousand years ago had given them all release from death that none of them had deserved"

I don't know about any of this

we've got a disturbance in the force when harrow describes her parents finding out about the tomb thing

it says "her parents had...found out...about what she had done"

interesting edit of the story there

there's a gideon-sized hole in this story

there's also an interesting new count of nooses??

she says they tied five, two for mortus (???) but in gideon's book she said they tied their own nooses and then helped her tie hers, what's up with mortus having two??? is this nothing and I'm just obsessing about every detail???

I'm gonna start seeing palmolive's force ghost roaming around my house

at the end of ch. 3 it says "there had been another girl who grew up alongside Harrow—but she had died before Harrow was born"

this is a VERY INTERESTING wording

if someone dies before you are born, they can't grow up with you

UNLESS

I'm not gonna dwell on that yet

let's put a pin on that

ch. 4 has the re-apparition of yandere twin

*live studio audience cheers, maybe*

she gives her a letter addressed to her from her

the letter has a lot of instructions of things she doesn't remember at all and also are supposed to be opened at specific times/events

one of them says "in the event of the emperor's death"

another says it's in case she sees regina george twin, which makes a whole argument happen and knives are used to settle it

yandere twin will not hear someone imply her sister might be no longer with us

she probably isn't dead, this I know for certain, people wouldn't be confusing my names for them if that was all we got from her

the most important letter, though, is the one in case she sees camilla, who harrow claims not having interacted with ever

this is a very important thing to note, but most importantly, CAMILLA MENTION

very important to be noting who harrow remembers interacting with and who she doesn't

very important as well that she remembers yandere twin losing an arm in battle but does not remember gideon or camilla

I haven't mentioned it yet but, in the letter, past!harrow tells present!harrow that she needs to check yandere twin's tongue and lower mandibule

to which I think to myself "I bet she's gonna kiss her"

and that she did

which makes me want an edition of this book but with gideon commentary

like a dvd commentary but it's gideon commenting on all this stuff

and cracking jokes

because I bet she'd be cracking jokes about this

remember when she joked that yandere twin would marry mayonnaise uncle?

and then both harrow and mayonnaise uncle were like "ew the third's magic is weird"

imagine if she saw this display

another CRUCIAL thing is that harrow is doing like an oath to yandere twin as requested by past!harrow

and she says "by the ripped and remade soul of ortus nigenad"

and yandere twin goes "who? oh, yes—the cavalier"

I mean, mood at not remembering the names, but also SUSPICIOUS BEHAVIOR

she also tells present!harrow "I gave you something you cared about very deeply at the time"

side note, there is yet another moment in which chad is read for filth

get obliterated even in undeath, chad

last detail from this chapter is that harrowbean almost gets assassinated

maybe I should have started with that

at this point there's so much going on, death seems like a normal one

so yeah, she's gonna get killed with a pillow to the face and then she defends herself and discovers at the end of the chapter that she didn't hallucinate the whole thing and it was hidden from her on purpose that somebody tried to end her

so what's the point in being in this clown death star and surviving big brother canaan house if you can't even sleep peacefully???

moving on to chapter 5

remember the timeline I was making?

yeah, about that

chapter 5, in the third person continuity, establishes that what I saw previously was not necessarily a memory but an au memory

if we can call it something at this point

so my calculations were made as if the timeline was one

but this is not one timeline, it's a sort of parallel gideon-less one

of course my heart is making me believe the gideon-less one is the one that isn't real

and that past!harrow might know what's going on with that

maybe gideon's existence needs to be protected

maybe the emperor doesn't have to know about her

(I'm still holding on to the gideon hope, leave me alone)

but, in any case, present!harrow doesn't know

let's remember the prologue begun with harrow doing something she shouldn't and yandere twin saying something like "was there something in those letters I don't know about?"

I'm just gonna have to throw my timeline in the trash and start over with multiple timelines for now

ALSO, I didn't say anything about it yet, but it's mentioned that harrow is "in love" with ice cube barbie

take that as you will

which is another joke gideon has made in the past and would be stellar in a commentary of this

and, talking about things gideon would be awesome at commenting

in the new ortus-inclusive (?) narrative, ortus is talking about the epic of Matthias Nonius, who we know because harrow has compared gideon to him in the past

and also there's is a comment made about how ortus looks down on people who read "prurient magazines or pamphlets"

I really need gideon confessionals commentary over here

she also says that "the ninth house character, she was forced to admit, had always been low on wild and confident fucks"

yeah, well, how about that

and we end with THE FLIMSY

lots of important flimsies in this

she finds a note that reads "THE EGGS YOU GAVE ME ALL DIED AND YOU LIED TO ME"

ortus says he can't read it

but, in any case,

that made me stop in my tracks because I was reminded I forgot about the writing on the walls of canaan house?????

I filed it under canaan house weirdness but then, it was never talked about?????? again????

also the paper gideon found with her name

which I assumed was addressing the other gideon that not!dulcinea mentioned knowing

but who tf knows at this point

who knows what time and space are anymore

time to leave it for today...this is getting wild, you guys

#luly reacts to tlt #tlt spoilers #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #the locked tomb #long post #gif cw #me looking for that scene of Kim just to make that gif #I need to start making these shorter istg

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parkerrogersgirl · 5 months

Text

300 Awkward Blind Dates Later...

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You go on a blind date on your birthday so you don't have to spend it alone, but it ends up going better than you expected.

A/N: Hey friends! This is a little birthday drabble for my buddy @roosterforme. Thank you for being such a help and inspiration, you're the best!

Warnings: fluff, maybe swearing, a whole lot of sweetness so book your dentist ASAP, allusions to smut (bc I can't help myself), spice

Word Count: 2,617

----------------------------------------------

You take a deep breath and fix your hair in your rear view mirror. You look down at your dress and check your phone one last time. You'd thought your ex would at least act like he cared that it was your birthday. He wanted you back, and yet he couldn't be bothered to text you on your birthday. So, that's why you were on a blind date on your birthday.

You put your phone away and walk into the restaurant, sitting at the bar. The bartender immediately comes over and you order a soda, presuming this date won't last long enough for you to finish any alcohol.

Once you have your soda, you let yourself relax a little bit. You let yourself get lost in the bustle of the bar at happy hour. That is until you hear a voice startle you out of your daze.

"Excuse me? Do you mind if I sit here, ma'am?"

You snap your head to your left to see the hottest man God has ever created. He has curly brown hair and a gorgeous mustache to match. He's got chocolate brown eyes that you could easily see yourself getting lost in-

"Oh! Yeah, sure." You turn to look at the clock to see that your date is 40 minutes late. You pull out your phone and see that your date had cancelled because you didn't sound like his "type," and he didn't want to waste your time. "I've been stood up, apparently, so I should probably go anyway."

The stranger frowns and takes the seat next to yours, "well, apparently it's a blind date."

"How'd you know that?"

He smirks, "if he knew what you look like, he wouldn't have stood you up. You're perfect."

You blush and as the bartender takes the stranger's order, you ask her for a refill on your soda. Before you can take your card out of your wallet to pay out, a rough hand covers yours.

"You can add it to my tab. Both of the drinks." You look up and meet his incredible eyes.

"Are you sure? You don't even know my name."

He laughs and turns your hand over to shake it, "well, I'm Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw. And you are?"

You introduce yourself, and you notice that although you're not shaking hands, neither of you have let go. There's something... right about how his hand feels on yours. It feels like you're home. You subtly roll your eyes at yourself before dropping his hand.

"Well, Bradley, why do you insist on paying for my drinks?"

He grins, putting his arm around the back of your chair, "well, miss Y/N, my mom always told me to pay for a lady's drinks on a date."

"You're awfully bold to assume this is a date," you raise your glass to your lips, smirking at him over the top.

"You were already here on a date. It's not my fault I had to step into that clown's shoes. I'm just taking a shot."

"And if I said this wasn't a date?"

"Well, I would be crushed. I think you're great. You're funny, you're hot, although we do have to have a talk about stranger danger."

You scoot your stool closer to him and start drawing circles on his leg with your finger. The second your fingertip touches him, you feel him tense up and you smile softly, "I'm hot?"

He leans in closer so his lips are almost touching your ear, "baby you're the hottest person in the whole damn bar. As soon as I saw you, you were all that mattered. Especially because I would really, really like to see you again. Tonight. In my bedroom. Preferably under me. "

You bite your lip and stand, heading for the door. You go out and stand next to your car around the corner and wait. Not even 30 minutes later, you hear the restaurant door open and close, followed by footsteps on the concrete. Bradley turns the corner speeds up, jogging toward you.

You open your mouth to speak, but before you can ask Bradley to follow you home, his arms are around you and his mouth is on yours. You moan into the kiss and back up against your car, letting your lips dance with his. His lips were coarse, but in the best way, where it feels like static electricity.

He pulls away and immediately blurts out, "do you want to come home with me?"

"Let's go. I'll come get my car tomorrow."

"No, we'll come get your car tomorrow. I don't plan on letting you go."

-----------------------

@my-emotional-self @thankyouforanonymity @supernaturaldean67 @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @princess76179 @srgntjbarnes @jcc04220 @ilovethefandomwho-blog @a-tale-of-two-comics @p-parkerrr-blog @magellan-88 @healojane @mizz-kraziii @lostinspace33 @esther-maslow-90 @astheskycries @kunaikunari @turningtoclown

#rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader smut #rooster #rooster smut #top gun maverick #top gun #bradley bradshaw #Bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 6 months

Note

Digital Circus with a Mime Reader, who CAN speak but prefers to use sign language and gestures: they find find Kaufmo in the middle of abstracting and try to calm him down (against their better judgement). It doesn't go well, ending with them locking and closing Kaufmo's door, and running to find Caine... Only to hear the theme song suddenly stop and Jax say something about a "new character" as they approach...

Ough finally some Kaufmo angst-

........

Approaching Kaufmo's door, you stopped in front of it and politely knocked, wanting to check up on him before Caine could summon everybody to perform the Digital Circus' "theme song" musical number.

As of late, your fellow clown hasn't been feeling up to snuff, since apparently nobody was laughing at his jokes anymore...

Although said jokes have all mentioned something about an exit--a way out of the digital realm you've grown quite comfortable living in. But even when he is dead serious, the others are convinced he's only kidding around, pretending to laugh and sometimes asking him if he could joke about something else.

Least to say...it grew frustrating for him.

The only reason he hadn't totally lost it yet was because of you, a mime who has lived in the circus for the past five months and befriended him quickly. Together you've put on many acts: with his wacky props and your invisible techniques, your shows were amusing to all.

That being said, you didn't want your longtime partner to think about any exits too much, as you've lost several friends in the past when they started talking about the same thing.

It happened to Queener, Kinger's beloved wife, and the poor chess piece has been on the brink of abstraction ever since (honestly, it's a miracle he didn't immediately follow her).

Fortunately, he remained stable enough to be around everyone.

As for Kaufmo?

He didn't look so good last night at dinner, and you haven't seen him all morning. Normally he'd be up and about, juggling random things as he walked or approaching you to brainstorm new acts to perform.

Him locking himself away in his room was not normal.

Especially when he knew this musical number was super important to Caine.

After waiting a minute or two, you perked up as he finally answered the door.

At first you smiled in greeting, although that was quick to fade when he only kept it open just a crack--enough for you to barely see his face...

Which bore a terrified expression underneath his runny makeup, making his frown look worse than it actually is. His hat was nowhere to be found, either.

''Are you okay, Kaufmo?" You signed, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

That was your usual way of talking, despite knowing you could very well speak freely. You had no clue if you were proficient in sign language before entering this circus, but regardless it always came in handy, and everybody did their best to communicate with you that way (or at least those with fingers, unlike Zooble or Gangle).

Since your performances usually involved silence and expressive gestures, you didn't see a need to talk often--and that was usually fine with Kaufmo, who'd always chatter with you in sign language right back.

But when he attempted to respond, you swore you both saw his own hands glitching, before he quickly retracted them, clearly frightened.

You, on the other hand, wanted to believe it was just a "digital hallucination".

That's all it was...right?

"I-I'm sorry, [y/n]..haven't been..feeling like myself-f-f lately.." Even his own voice was betraying him, as it sounded distorted, lagging as though he was a slow computer program. "But you believe me, don't you?"

"Believe what?"

"The...the exit, of course! The thing I've been talking about this whole time!! It's real! There IS a way out!! I-I can show you!!"

You blinked, before shaking your head. "Kaufmo, let me in."

"Oh no, I think that's a bad id--wait! Wait!!" Despite his pleas for you to stop, you forced your way into his room, shutting the door behind you so nobody else could intrude or eavesdrop.

The last thing you needed was Caine listening in.

Yet after taking a look around at the state of his quarters--with everything being a complete mess and the word "EXIT" scrawled onto every square inch of the ceiling and walls--you were nothing short of terrified for his mental well-being.

'My god....what has he done..?' You thought to yourself, mortified.

"No, no, no, no!!"

Looking back at Kaufmo, you saw him back up against the wall, holding his face as black glitchy polygons started appearing on his body. He gasped in horror, looking at his hands...and then up at you.

"What's..h-happening to me-e-e?"

Your heart sunk, knowing exactly what was going on.

"You're abstracting.." You whispered, your voice small yet shaken.

"I-I didn't...think I'd be next...it hurts so much! Christ-!!!" He began crying, his makeup oozing as he stared at you with empty, soulless black eyes. One of his arms was already taken over by the glitches, morphing into a large one covered in jagged polygons.

"Make it stop..MAKE IT STOP!!!" He screamed, slumping to the floor.

You were frozen in a state of panic, unsure if you should go get Caine or stay here and try to pull him out of his abstraction.

Either way, you had to do something fast...lest you lose him forever or become infected yourself.

"Just focus on me, pal. I'm here. I'm here." Kneeling down, you grasped his non-glitching hand tightly with both of yours, attempting to guide him through a breathing exercise.

"You'll get through this." You mouthed, but he just shook his head, noticing a single glowing eye forming on the surface of the glitchy flesh.

"Wh-Whatever you do...don't tell Caine, I beg you-u.." He pleaded. "He'll lock me away...a-and I'll be all alone in the dark..I don't wanna be alone.."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head, and he gazed at you in confusion. "What do you mean "no"? You'd let him throw me into the cellar with the rest of them...?" He started to grow angrier, feeling betrayed. "I thought we were partners!"

"We are partners, Kaufmo. Always will be." You sighed, wishing there was another way to stop this from happening. "But there's nothing more I can do...he needs to know-"

"Fine...maybe things will be better if I'm not around to tell my stupid jokes anymore."

"Kaufmo-"

"Go....run, [y/n]...run-n-n-nnNNNN------"

Immediately after he said that, you let him go right as his other hand quickly became overtaken by the abstraction, almost taking you with it.

You got up and took a step backwards, watching in mute terror as he rapidly grew in size, turning into a massive amalgamation of glitch black polygons. Even more glowy-trippy eyes were popping up in different places, looking in every direction.

Within seconds, Kaufmo no longer resembled the clown you once knew (or a person, in general)....but was instead replaced by a horrific digital beast with a long neck, standing on four legs.

You gulped as every single eye on his body suddenly shifted to stare directly down at you.

'Uh-oh-'

You hastily created an invisible wall just as he lunged at you with a ferocious roar, slamming right into the illusion like a bird smacking into a glass pane.

'He still falls for the oldest trick in the book..oh Kaufmo..'

Although it pained your heart to abandon him like this, he was too far gone to be saved. He didn't even recognize you anymore.

The only thing you could do now was get Caine before he harmed you or anybody else--even if it means you never saw him again. He could very well threaten the entire stability of this world if he got loose.

You quickly ran out of the room just before he could break through the "wall" and go after you, slamming the door shut and locking it tight.

Moments later, you heard him ram into it, the hinges damn near breaking off (but by the grace of cartoon physics, that didn't happen).

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, making a mad dash out of the dormitory section of the tent in a desperate search for Caine.

Unfortunately, you could already hear Bubble's singing in the distance as the gang's musical number routine was already starting:

"Gangle, and Zooble, and Kinger, too~!"

You ran as fast as your legs could possibly carry you. They were already aware of both of your absences, and they chose to go on with the song anyways.

'Jerks..they couldn't at least wait for me?' You huffed. 'Caine never tells us when we're doing these musical ditties-'

By the time you arrived, however, you heard the music abruptly cut out.

You stopped upon seeing your friends tumbled over each other on the floor, with Gangle's comedy mask being broken and Jax picking himself up in annoyance.

"Caine, is this one of your NPCs or is this a new sucker?"

Blinking, you glanced at the new person he was referring to, surprised to see a girl dressed as a red and blue jester.

"........."

Now you couldn't say anything to Caine.

Not right now, at least.

#clanask #anonymous #tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc kaufmo #clown reader #mime reader #angst #platonic

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 7 months

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KINKTOBER DAY 5 | Tate Langdon x Reader

Kinktober day 5: semi-public sex

Warnings: 18+, fingering, semi-public sex,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’It’s the third time we go. I get that you love Halloween, but aren’t you tired of people jumping before you and screaming to scare you?’’

‘’I’ll go by myself if you don’t want to come.’’

Dani eyed your outfit, then hummed disapprovingly. ‘’Dressed like that? Terrible idea.’’

‘’There’s a lot of people and it’s dark. It’s the perfect place for creepy men to prey on women who are alone. Especially if they are wearing a skirt,’’ Penelope added, being on Dani’s side.

‘’I can defend myself,’’ you said, not worried at all.

‘’We’re all going.’’

While you loved Halloween, you didn’t tell your friend the real reason you wanted to go to Horror Nights again. They would tease you to no ends if they knew it was to see the cute boy you had spotted on opening weekend. He was one of the scare actors in the haunted maze attraction. He had crawled over to you to scare you, but your eyes found his and time stopped for a few seconds. His face was caked with a skull makeup, but you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The line for tickets was long, as always. It’s Saturday night, what were you expecting? After what felt like an eternity, you finally made it inside. The first attraction didn't really send shivers down your spine, but Penelope got scared by a clown and almost fell on her ass, making the three of you laugh so much your stomachs hurt.

When you — finally — got to the haunted maze, you searched for him in every corner. But he was nowhere in sight. You saw a boy in a skull makeup, but it wasn’t him. His hair was bright green, not blond.

The last attraction was the penitentiary, which turned out to be terrifying. The people in the cells were chained and acting insanely, some were getting lobotomies or just screaming and running. The lights were flickering, adding to the spooky ambiance.

You were almost out of the attraction when a group of energetic kids bumped into you and your friends, separating you from them. ‘’Dani! Penelope!’’ you called out, but your voice got lost in the chaos. ‘’Dani—’’

Your words got cut off by a gasp when a tall figure in a black rubber suit appeared before you. Panic set in, and before you could scream, his hand clamped over your mouth, and he pushed you back against a wall. Actors were not supposed to touch the visitors. You struggled, trying to break free, but he was much stronger than you.

An amused chuckle came from underneath the mask, then the person revealed themself.

Through the flickering lights, you caught his eyes, the ones you had been looking for all night.

The corner of his mouth curled into a smirk. ‘’I scared you.’’

You shoved his shoulder, trying to appear mad. ‘’Can you blame me? I’m a woman. Placed like this are a perfect setting for a murder or worse, rape.’’

Immediately, the blond felt bad. ‘’I didn’t think about that… Shit. I’m sorry,’’ he apologized, his deep brown eyes softly looking at you. ‘’When I saw you in the penitentiary, I just knew I needed to take my chance and talk to you. ’’

A smile fought on your lips. ‘’Is this how you flirt with girls? By scaring the living hell out of them?’’

He shook his head. ‘’I’m not much of a flirt,’’ he explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

Another group of running kids came by, screaming and fleeing something they had just seen, making you think that you should get back to your friends. They must be searching for you and flooding your phone with worried texts.

But you didn’t want to.

‘’I-I’m Tate, by the way.’’

You gave him your name, then pulled him down for a kiss as the lights went out. Tate kissed you back, his hands pulling your body close to his as he gently pulled your lower lip with his teeth. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself running your fingers through his hair, letting out a soft, involuntary moan into the kiss. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, ignoring the drilling sound of the lobotomy tool and screamings nearby.

When you paid for your entry ticket a few hours ago, you didn’t think you would end the night with the stranger in the skull makeup’s tongue in your mouth. But here you were, making out together in the middle of an attraction.

‘’Come with me.’’ Tate took your hand and led you away from the main way of the penitentiary.

You didn’t know where you were going, but you held on tight to his hand as he led you into the darkness. He’s been working here since opening night, he must know his way through the attraction.

Tate pulled one of the black curtains that opened the backstage area of the penitentiary where extra props, electricity chords and other stuff were hidden.

‘’Is this where you’re planning to kill me and hide my body?’’ you joked, trusting him enough to make this kind of joke.

He shook his head and pinned you against the wall, his latex covered chest pressing against you and moved his mouth to your ear. ‘’No,’’ he whispered, sending shivers down your spine. ‘’This is where I plan to make you cum.’’

No man had ever left you speechless until tonight, but you were too stunned to speak. You never expected such explicit words to come from his mouth. Not with sweet innocent eyes like his.

Tate’s hand followed the path down the curves of your body, slow and teasing as arousal started to pool between your legs. He stopped at the hem of your skirt, pleased at your clothing choice for the night. It'll be less of a fuss to access where he wanted.

‘’Tate,’’ you gasped at the first graze of his fingers.

He must be able to feel your wetness through the lace. He pressed the wet heat of your cunt into his hand, tearing a moan from you.

You would be embarrassed to be so wet already, but all that was on your mind was Tate's fingers rubbing against your folds through the thin fabric. His mouth had descended down your neck and jawline, gently kissing as he listened to the soft pleased sounds escaping your lips.

Screams and laughter came from the other side of the thin wall, drowning the sounds of your activities. If Tate’s boss knew what you were doing, he would get fired on the spot.

Tate pushed your panties to the side, and then slid between your folds. ‘’I’ve been thinking about you — about doing this to you — since I saw you in the maze.’’

Your head fell back against the wall, images of that night, of him crawling across the maze to scare you flashed in your head as he teased your most sensitive flesh. It felt like a fucking dream, except you weren’t sleeping.

‘’Thought you looked pretty that night, but I bet you’re looking even prettier right now,’’ Tate said, wishing he could see you in better lighting.

He lightly brushed your clit, then briefly dipped into your entrance before pulling away.

‘’Please,’’ you begged, pushing your hips where you knew his hand was, and finally two of his thick fingers thrusted into your folds.

Your inner muscles clenched around him, making Tate wish he wasn’t wearing that stupid latex suit so he could feel you clench around his cock. Instead, he’ll have to settle for this — getting you off.

‘’When we get out of here, don’t think we’re done,’’ he said, moving his fingers in and out of you while his other hand came around your neck, forcing you to look into his eyes. ‘’The night is just getting started.’’

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1 @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark

#tate langdon #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon imagine #american horror story #american horror story imagine #kinktober

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 months

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Hi Sex witch, I'm almost 26, afab agender, and I have been trying to have sex for some time but the idea of being on the receiving end of things makes my heart go into a frenzy. I'm more than happy to show my date a great time, but only as a giver. I used to have panic attacks when I dated men. The first woman I got in bed with wanted a lavishly feminine night, with both of us in dresses and her dominating me after a little roleplay of the reverse, which resulted in a screaming breakup because she said I needed therapy before sex if I was expecting fixed positions "like men" in a lesbian relationship. This was of course, before I came out as agender. I'm dating someone very sweet and I want to move forward, but I'm scared of freaking her out or freaking myself out.

I've never had any kind of trauma, unless you count the years of gender dysphoria, but my parents are extremely supportive and my sister even moreso. It's all just me, getting the sudden pang of remixed dysphoria and identity crisis when I'm put in the position where I'll have to accept whatever the other person does to me, even after we've discussed things beforehand. I'm really not having a good time, especially on tumblr where everyone expects the recipient experience to be universal. Is it internalized misogyny at play?

hi anon,

I'm really sorry for the difficulty you've had, and especially the catastrophically uncool response you got from the first woman you hooked up with. if I may be so bold, that's a wildly inappropriate response to finding out that a partner doesn't want to get fucked. taking turns is all fine and well, but if you're worried about enforcing violent patriarchy in the bedroom then surely you shouldn't be screaming at someone for expressing a boundary?

look, anon: I think you're just a stone top. you're down to clown with getting your partners off but don't want to anyone touching you, and that's fine. awesome, even! there's long and noble history of stone tops, pillars of the community. it is literally just another type of sexual preference, and while it may not be compatible with the way every potential partner likes to have sex, it's certainly not a sign of anything wrong with you that needs to be unpacked or pathologized.

I don't see why this would freak your partner out; it's just something to talk about before you have sex. a lot of hurt and misunderstanding can be avoided by just talking through your wants and expectations before sex, ESPECIALLY when there's a Hard No at play like this. talk about what's off the table for you, but also what you DO like and want to do with your partner! boundaries don't take the fun out of sex, they teach you how to make it a better time for everyone, and any potential sexual partner who sees setting expectations for sex as a bad thing is someone who needs to be taken off of the "potential partner" list immediately.

lastly no, it's not misogyny to not want to bottom. there is no moral component to sexual proclivities, especially not in this case.

#sex edventures 2024

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bg-brainrot · 4 months

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The Smut Peddlers of Sharess' Caress (Astarion x Tav)

In honor of spontaneously deciding to add a part 2 to this silly little fic, posting part 1 on tumblr.

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: The group finds smut about you (Tav) and Astarion. Hijinks ensue.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Humor, lots of innuendos, shadowheart loves smut, karlach doesnt read but will make an exception for this, there is no smut, nothing against smut we love smut in this house

Word count: ~2.5k

Your group is in Wyrm’s Crossing on this bright Baldurian day. You originally were just planning on returning various parts of a certain clown to the circus, but on your way back to the Lower City you get waylaid easily and find yourselves in Sharess' Caress. Everyone is used to your aimless wandering at this point, so Astarion, Karlach, and Shadowheart follow in tow without question.

While you have no strict purpose in visiting, you do want to check-in with Mamzell Amira to make sure that no one has been troubling her since you dealt with her missing girl. The brothel seems unchanged from the last time you visited, and you walk up to its proprietor with a wave.

“Why if it isn’t the hero with a penchant for whips,” she smiles at you warmly. “What can I do for you? Anyone I can get for you, or are you here for the latest erotic verse? I thought you might find it quite… scintillating.”

You shrug off her suggestions, “Nothing in particular, just wanted to make sure no one was bothering you after that assassin.”

“Oh, we’ve been doing just peachy, thanks to you,” she says. “Though I hear you never took me up on your boon, the Drow twins have been awfully upset about it.”

Chancing a brief glance at Astarion, you find him looking surprisingly unconcerned at the mention of the Drow twins. He had been uncomfortable before, which is all you had needed to hear to put an end to that conversation. “Yes, thank you so much for your generosity, but I haven’t found myself in need of your services,” you reply, remaining light in your tone.

“It certainly seems like it,” she purrs, and you’re not sure what to make of her comment before she continues. “Well, I hate feeling indebted to anyone. What do you say you look through the shelves of our erotic literature and pick some out, free of charge. You may even find some inspiration.” She winks at you conspiratorially, as if Astarion isn’t watching the entire conversation unfold.

Karlach giggles behind you and whispers, ”Oooo, I might actually pick up reading if it’s that inspirational.”

You clear your throat a bit and say, “I’ll take a look. I wouldn’t want to make you indebted to us.”

Mamzell Amira points you in the direction of the bookshelves, and your group files off toward them. Astarion is giving you a sidelong look as he says, “You know, if you wanted to take her up on the Drow twins, I could be persuaded.”

You scoff. “I don’t want to persuade you to do anything. Besides, what if she’s right? Don’t you want to see what creative ideas these smut peddlers have thought up?”

He seems a bit relieved to hear you say that, but his tone remains offended, “Excuse me, are you critiquing my skills as a lover? From the noises you make, I don’t think you’re allowed to–”

“For the love of the Moonmaiden, Astarion, you know we can hear you?” Shadowheart has already reached the shelves and takes a moment away from perusing to glare at the vampire.

“Of course I know you can hear me,” he says with a smirk. “Just as well as you can hear my dearest—”

“Astarion,” you give him a warning look. “Look through the smut like the rest of us or get out.”

Your love gives you an exaggerated pout before saying, “Fine. I don’t need books to teach me what I know. If you need me, I’ll be getting a drink.” You watch him skulk off, finding his jealousy over the potential skill of fictional lovers quite endearing.

Finally, you turn your attention to the bookshelves Mamzell had indicated. Karlach and Shadowheart are already heavily invested, rifling through stacks of books with ornate fonts and passionate covers.

One book in particular seems to be front and center, perhaps a new title or a bestseller. You pick it up and look down at the cover more closely.

The title reads “Love at First Knife: A Roguish Tale of Blood and Lust” in a flowing script. On the cover you see two individuals, one of whom, a silver-haired man with pointed ears and ruby-red eyes, is holding a knife to the others’ throat. The other figure is gazing lovingly into the firsts’ eyes, their hands grasping at his bare chest.

“Gods below,” you whisper, once you’ve comprehended what’s in your hands. “Shadowheart, Karlach, look what I found.”

Both women walk over to you, peering over each of your shoulders. “What’s that?” Shadowheart asks, not quite registering the vague familiarity of the two figures on the cover.

You point to the silver-haired, pale elf and say, “Does that look like anyone you know?”

“It’s not!” Karlach gasps. “Is that supposed to be… Astarion?”

Based on the crude facsimile of your own face yearning for him and the title, you are fairly certain it is. “And I think that’s supposed to be me,” you point out, dumbfounded at the novel in your hands. “How is this possible?”

“Well, the smut peddlers put out quite a lot of writing, they can write an entire book in a matter of days.” After receiving a questioning look from you, she adds, “From what I hear. I wouldn’t know.” She’s blushing from the tips of her ears down to her neck, and you suspect that you may find a surprise stash of erotic books near her bed at the Elfsong if you look close enough.

Karlach claps Shadowheart on the shoulder. “Nothing to be ashamed of knowing. Just don’t hold back on me, alright?”

Shadowheart shakes her head lightly, “Regardless, we’ve been in the city for a few weeks and we haven’t exactly been subtle about it. I’m sure you’ve attracted plenty of attention.”

She’s not wrong– your entire group has had some very public confrontations, and several key figures of the city were aware of your presence. Plus there was an entire article in the Baldur's Mouth Gazette about your group’s accomplishments.

“Fair,” you admit. “But how did they know about Astarion?” You touch the cover carefully, as if expecting the book to combust in your hands.

“Well, aside from his loud proclamations of your love,” Shadowheart rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t know. Maybe it was Mamzell Amira herself, she did mention you’d like the newest erotic verse.”

“Please tell me you’re going to read it,” Karlach says, barely containing her excitement. “If you don’t, I will.”

You tut at her. “If anyone here gets to read about my and Astarion’s passionate love making, it will be me.”

“Oh just you and the hundreds of others who have probably already picked up a copy,” Shadowheart adds, unhelpfully.

Despite that, you don’t feel mortified. Really, you just feel a burning sense of curiosity. You gently thumb the cover, hesitating to turn the page. “What if it’s terrible?”

“It probably will be,” Shadowheart says, matter-of-factly. “That’s not why you read it though.”

You flip to the first page and start skimming. “Sweet hells, his name is Arstaron.”

“That’s amazing,” Karlach’s face bends down to read too. “Did that just say ‘brooding curls’? Do his curls brood?”

Shadowheart is reading along as well, “There’s an entire page dedicated to describing his abs. Are they really this… sculpted?”

You shake your head. “They’re lovely, but I don’t think I could ‘grill a set of gnoll ribs over them’ like it says.”

“Enough descriptors, skip ahead to the good bits,” Karlach prods at your hand, begging you to hurry up.

You skip ahead a few dozen pages and stop when you spot the words ‘passionate thrusts.’ “Here we go…”

The three of you silently read for a moment before Karlach breaks the silence. “Oh my, soldier, how did I never consider how flexible you both are.”

Your face reddens, as you’re suddenly reminded that your friends are now vividly imagining you and Astarion vigorously making love. “Let’s, uh, go back to the descriptor bits.”

A few minutes later, you’re reading down a passage describing his ‘member’ and the laughter that rumbles out of Karlach might bring down the entire brothel. It’s certainly loud enough to bring the attention of the roguish lover being described.

“What do we have here?” Astarion stalks over, clearly sensing that the excited bustle might be worth a laugh. You hunch over the book, protectively. “My dear, are you hiding something from me?”

You quickly pass off the book to Karlach, quickly responding with, “I would never.”

“Love, you know you don’t need to hide anything from me,” he says, smoothly.

Karlach is quick to follow that with a snort, “I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what Arstaron says when he takes off his lover’s clothes!”

“Arstaron?” He quirks an eyebrow at you in question and you reluctantly take the book back from Karlach to hand to him.

“Apparently,” you start. “You and I are the subjects of the latest erotic novel, courtesy of Sharess' Caress.”

Looking down at the cover, Astarion seems dumbfounded. “Is that supposed to be… me?”

You nod, reluctantly. You had gotten him a statue and a painting commissioned, but he still hasn’t seen himself often and you wouldn’t consider this the best representation. “They definitely took some, well a lot, of creative liberties.”

He looks down at it more carefully, amusement coloring his face. “I quite like what they did with your face, the longing is lovely.”

“That’s quite enough of that,” you say, reaching for the book.

Astarion holds it just out of your reach and says, “No, no, we’ve earned a reward for helping the fine proprietor of this establishment. I want this to be my reward.”

“What,” you say, incredulously. “You wouldn’t read it. You said you don’t like smut.”

“I never said that.” He starts flipping through the pages of the book. “I just said I know more than these novels. I still do, mind you. But that doesn’t mean I’m not tempted by the mention of your ‘trembling lips’ as it says.”

“Wait, how many copies are there?” Karlach is back at the shelf. “Let’s read it together!”

You balk at the idea of your lovelife becoming the team’s book club. But you’re very much resigned to the idea that someone in your group is walking out with this book. “No, no, one copy is more than enough. Besides, we don’t want to take advantage of Mamzell’s generosity.”

“I don’t much like to share, love. Best get a few copies,” Astarion says, already adopting his reading stance as he flips back to the first page.

“Ugh, fine. Karlach, you and Shadowheart share one. I’ll share with Astarion.” You put up a finger. “Only on the condition that we tell no one else.”

A small huff leaves Karlach’s mouth. “Really? Really really?” Karlach pleads. “Maybe just one? I know Jaheira would get a kick outta this.”

You respect Jaheira so deeply, the idea of her reading of your wanton pleasures fills you with dread. “Please not Jaheira,” you whisper.

“Be careful, dear,” Astarion mumbles, his nose buried into the book. “You keep whispering her name like that, the next edition will feature a second silver-haired companion with pointy ears.”

His words give you a creeping paranoia and you look around, as if the smut peddlers are watching you at this very moment. “Okay, grab your books, let’s get out of here.”

“So soon?” Karlach says, nabbing a second copy of Love at First Knife before you can change your mind.

“Yes, we’re probably disturbing the clientele,” you say, waving away her disappointment. “Shadowheart?”

You realize that she’s already twenty pages into Love at First Knife and has barely registered your conversation. “Oh, yes? Are we leaving?”

“I work with a group of lecherous fools,” you mutter, grabbing her and Astarion by the sleeves. “Come on.”

You wave to Mamzell Amira on the way out, “Thank you for the books!”

She yells after you, “Be sure to return soon, we’re already hard at work on volume two!”

Shadowheart pauses her reading to perk up. “Oh, we’d best make a trip back then. This is surprisingly well-done.” She mumbles, half-heartedly, “Not that I would know.”

“No, no, you’re right,” Astarion says from your other side. “I quite like the way they describe my artistry. Take a look, dear.”

He shoves the book back into your face for a passage that reads, ‘his motions are as fluid as the waves of a water elemental’ and you swat the book out of the way. “If you start moving like that, I think I’m more likely to scream in horror.”

You walk along in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, as your three companions read. Then you spot Karlach behind you, fanning herself with her copy of the book. She meets your questioning look with a chuckle, “I thought I was already too hot to handle, but I think I’ll need to cool down after reading the climax of that book.”

“How did you already get there?” Shadowheart gasps, looking up.

“I skipped to the good bits!” Karlach replies easily. “And let me tell you, they were good.”

You facepalm momentarily before looking between your fingers at Astarion. He seems remarkably enthralled by the book, and suddenly you’re worried. Oh no, what if I’m a better fictional lover than a real lover. Distantly, you hear Shadowheart and Karlach discussing the novel, but your attention is focused entirely on the man’s eyes, reading back and forth as you walk.

Sensing your gaze, the vampire finally looks up and smiles pleasantly. He closes the book and with his free hand reaches for yours. “My love, please, and I cannot stress this enough, do not take inspiration from this book.”

“What? Why not?” You ask, confused. “Karlach just said it was amazing?”

“Yes, well,” he leans into you. “I think doing somersaults into each other's arms might be more likely to result in a broken rib than pleasurable exploration.”

You give a surprised laugh, leaning back into him, “Are you doubting my expertise as a lover now?”

“Not at all, my dear,” he says, rubbing his thumb along the outside of your hand gently. “You are so very perfect. Which is why I wouldn’t want you to take too much from this poorly written version of you. Reality is far better than fiction in this case.”

Your heart swells at the words, though you can’t help but ask your next question. “So no chance of acrobatics after dark?”

Astarion takes a glance at your companions, and sees they’re still in a heated debate about the novel. With words meant only for you, he whispers into your ear. “Don’t you worry, there are plenty of other ways we can make use of our flexibility.”

With his breath tickling your skin, a few peppered kisses along your neck, and a promise of some time alone together, you make your way back to the Elfsong Tavern with a skip in your step. You wonder if the smut peddlers of Sharess' Caress know how deeply you care for this man, or how little they got right about all of the parts of him that matter.

Part 2 here!

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #rogue + rogue #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #tadfools tomfoolery

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