#i need a lady smoke buddy

[martuzzio]

HERMITCRAFT CATCHPHRASES

Hi, here's a (hopefully comprehensive) reference list of hermit catchphrases! The main goal here is to help writers and artists who (like me) might struggle with getting the characterization of some hermits right. Check out more info at the end of the post!

Note: this list updates a lot whenever I get new suggestions, which means reblogs aren't always fully accurate. I've linked this post to the top of my blog so it's easy to access the most recent version :)

Bdubs Shreep / uh-oh, gotta shreep! Crastle I love ya to death It’s gorgee Beyootiful Uh oh! Hell’s blazes! Hawsies YOU'LL SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO! Shuddup! Judas priest! Bdubs' PERFECT REDSTONE!! What in the world! Holy cow! Nuh-uh! Hoimycraaaaaf Whimsy Trying my heart out

Beef EEskall That was my nickname in college! Nailed it! Dangit! Beefy Tunes Smelly Etho Opulent Etho? Oh, yeah, I own him Eyy, I go up and I go down. Ladders! / Eyy, ladders! Beef taught Etho about redstone Oh my goodness! Oh boy! What the heck Oh, baby! Quote unquote A ton of __

Cleo Class dismissed! I don’t need your stinky torches I will break your legs Trash is fish The answer to everything is leather pants Not because it’s the sand castle you deserve, but it’s the sand castle I need! What did you do, Joe…. It's FINE, everything's FINE Lovely Silly I mean... Not gonna lie... To be fair...

Cub DA CREAMADA CROP Alright guys Nice, nice Ladies and gentlemen / ladies and gentlemen, we got ‘em Eeeeasy money Beautiful, absolutely beautiful Mmmmmhmmmmmm Holy smokes Let's goooo! Sweet Oh, baby! Man, oh man Without further ado Peace out Cheers / cheers, man There's some heat coming off that thing

Doc Are you kidding me now? Alright guys Can’t touch this The G.O.A.T. Etho, get to the damn land man! It all started when Grian touched my redstone… Epic

Etho Uh-huh Like-a so Oh snap Get your snacks! Holy smokes! Take care, have a good day, bye bye Aww snappers! Aww yeah Von Sway I barely know ‘er! Speaking of llamas Bright blue bamboo E. to the T. to the your mum Beefaroni / Beefers Speaking of llamas… That’s what she said! Free glass Eyy, I go up and I go down. Ladders! / Eyy, ladders! Suckerrrr! Check it out

False Blimey Awh dude Frick False Supremacy Oh my goodness I don't know about you guys, but... Props to __ I'm not gonna lie...

Gem Gem is great Her [name] is [adjective]! Gem will __ ("Gem will watch Impulse") Perfect! Epic It's true, I swear! Not gonna lie... Oh gosh! Trust the process Nailed it!

Grian Hello! My name is Grian Good… byeeeee! Pesky bird My heart! My little heart! Mumbo Mumbo you are AFK Can we just agree that Mumbo loses? What in Queen Elizabeth’s shiny crown was that? It wasn't me, it was the man in the chicken costume! SaAaaaAaAnd Chobblesome SCAR NO— / NO SCAR— In theory… Electric boogalooo What does this button do? What on earth? This is in shambles Get outta here! Hear me out... We don't have __. What we DO have is __ Just straight up Without further ado Crack on Bingo bango Yes. 100%

Hypno Right, right Mmhmm You guys Dang guy

Impulse What’s goin on everyone? Shovel Shuffle BEHIND YOU GEM! Peeps Geez Let's goooo! Are you kidding me? Oh, man Now we're talkin'! Holy smokes Oh my gosh How cool is that? Jeez! Dang it! Buddy Presi (for present) You bet!

Iskall Hallo -skall ("richskall") That’s mega / that’s looking absolutely mega Omega “Excuse me? Sir?” __ of doom Okay, lol And I will see you dudes in the next episode I’ve had a realization Oh for goodness sake! It’s not fat, it’s big-boned Not gonna lie SaAaaaAaAnd Very fine Great success! Bird poop Bumbo Cactoni Do you even bust? / Do you even bust bro E Pag

Jevin Hypno smells! Oh my god Sucker What the heck Dude Man I swear

Joe Howdy y’all! That’s the Joe Hills difference! I will now say a poem of my own devising Core concept Keep adventurin’! Time skip! Who’s the guy who conquers death? That’s Joe Hills No not rage quitting I have to pick up my daughter from school or my wife will rage quit me! Grow Hills / Expand Joe Joepacity / Jhost

Keralis Look into my eyes and nothing but my eyes Wanna buy a book? Spank you very much Just sit back, relax, and enjoy Like this, like that I can see my house from here! Bubbles, Shashwammy, Sweetface, Princess Lookie lookie at my cookie / lookie lookie at my cookie… no, please don’t Like-a so I love your face I’m a real boy! I don’t k-nove (know) Not like this! Booshes Clever girl But first… lemme take a selfie I’m sinking… mayday mayday we’re sinking! Hallo yes dis is de German coast guard what are you sinking about? Scary harry larry I’m alayve! Breathtaking — no you’re breathtaking Mm-kay Oh behave I’m a simple man MeOOOow Welcome to my humble abod-ee Not too shabby My face! My palms are sweaty, mom’s spaghetti Tag 2 Booga Booga Stiffy nipples Batman! First I was afraid, I was petrified...

Mumbo I worry about myself sometimes I'm not really quite sure if I like that or not Yeah… yeah that's looking good… I guess… Dude! Chuffed to bits It’s a bit pants I’m such a spoon Oh my word It’s quite simple, really / it’s actually quite simple Bonkers I’ll catch you in the next one. See ya Off you pop Oh goodness me! Hermit challenges — initiation! All done and dusted To be frankly honest Seriously seriously cool Absolutely nuts I don’t even know what to say Iskall I feel sick Peace, love, and plants Moon’s big Mumbo for Mayor Quite simple

Pearl Lovely Bonkers At this point... Cheeky / you cheeky What's this? Mate

Ren Now we’re cooking with gas / we be cooking with gas today Ladies, get in line! / ladies, gentlemen, everybody get in line! You picking up what I’m putting down My dudes Y’know what I’m sayin’ Coming atcha frommmmmm Dude Coming from left, right, and center Greetings cyberdogs and citizens of the Interwebs, this is Ren-diggity-dog comin at ya in another episode from the Hermitcraft server (ey!) Automagically Jazztastic Janktastic Oh baby Like nobody’s business Looking absolutely magnificent Anyhoozle Twaddle Renstone The Octagon is a well-oiled machine! [word]-age [word]-ation [word]-i (to make things plural You love / hate to see it I'm just sayin' / if you know what I'm sayin' Professional __ Jazz Anyhoozle Exqueeze me? Freakin' Some serious __ What's happenin', baby? Chesticles

Scar Scarred for life Woah, what in the world! It’s gonna be am-ay-zing LOOK at the siiiiize of that Well, hello there my fellow miners and crafters, GoodTimesWithScar here. Welcome back to the wonderful world of Hermits and crafting Don’t forget to subscribe or you might just become scarrrred for life! Looking super fancy Let’s hit super fast build mode! Look at the size of that Appreciate ya Hotguy! Operation: Aquathunder! That’s what she said! Rapscallion You silly goose Oh, sweet baby Jellie! Bayum! / Bam! The bee's knees Easy peasy, orangey squeezy

Stress Are you havin’ a giggle? / are you takin the mic? Mate Oh my god / oh my gosh / oh my good gordons Gorgeous Plonker Geezer Ohhhhh nooooo! Yeeeesshhh I legged it Such a pro / I'm such a pro Proper __ Cheeky Bloke Thingamajig Ain't [word]-age [word]-ies

Tango Happy fun sauce -ificator, -inator, -ness, -tastic Skadoodle Fearsome bunny slippers Noob juice So here’s the deal Holding shift Shwoop Flim flam Poop came out Extra dumb with dumb sauce / __ of extra dumb Flee with extra flee! / fleeing with terror! Boom booms Gah! The dungeon is ready for its next victim Behold! Results may vary! I think my math is correct, but it’s been known to be wrong This is the worst timeline. I hate everything Big no! You— you freak of nature! Jerkface Jerkbutt Excellent How embarassing This is true Zombert Bits This I gotta see! Right in the face! [word] is happening Yeah baby! Stupid jerks Boop This is the best / worst thing ever! Niner niner niner [general unintelligible noises]

TFC What in tarnation! Crap-tacular Humongous Butt-ugly Ugly as sin Oh, goody Ender-twits Bugger Oh, fart For crying out loud

Wels Words are hard If you will Super __

xB Aww yeah Mmkay Son of a biscuit Pretty frickin' __ Man Get frickin' wrecked! Chestacle Dang it Staaph it Oy vey Crap on a cracker Dang it, Bobby! Dang guy

Xisuma Oh goodness me Oh dangit Geez Peeps I’m such a derp Oh my days Chooturial Issooma Allo Woa’ah Brought (instead of bought) My dude Achacha

Zed Hello hello hello A-good a-bye Muckin' about I lied TaaaAAnnGoOOooooOOOo Hu-jah! Pretty darn __ Certainly Rubbish I'm [word]-ing [word] me [word]-iness What happens is... Get kersplatted! Epic Oh my goodness!

More Info

So I'm currently writing a HC fic and realized how little I know about some of the hermits (I unfortunately don't have time to watch all of them), which made it really difficult to depict them properly in my writing. I'm assuming at least some of you might also struggle with this, so, here we are!

If you know of a catchphrase from any hermit from any season, comment, reblog, send me a an ask or dm, dm me on discord, whatever works the best :D

Note: when I say "catchphrase," I mean anything a hermit repeats over an extended period of time. It can be something said during a single season (like "You'll speak when spoken to!" or "Hermit Challenges!"), or something that spans their entire careers (like "Aww snappers!" or "Plonker"). I'm not looking for one-off quotes that are never bought up again — there's some great sources (like @hermitcraft-correct-quotes) for that already :)

Sources (which will hopefully expand with time): This reddit post from four years ago This other reddit post also from four years ago Reddit from three years ago This cute diagram A more up to date source Another Xisuma's dictionary on his website HC character tv tropes page This incredible google doc

#Hermitcraft #hermit catchphrases #hermitcraft catchphrases #hermit quotes #hermitcraft quotes #This post is going to update many many times so reblogs might not always be up to date #if you have a suggestion to add please let me know!

[artificial-transmutations]

Your wish is my command

People knew when James approached pretty soon. Even with his 31 years, he still pretty much looked - and behaved - like the popular high school boy he used to be. He was loud, obnoxious and always surrounded by a group of friends - mostly his male buddies, but from time to time also one of his cardboard cutout girlfriends.

With his youthful looks and beautiful face, it wasn't very difficult for him to find a new girl - a fact he well knew and exploited. So, in general, his relationships rarely lasted longer than a few weeks or months until James got tired of his current girlfriend and dumped her for a new one.

Cathrine was one of them, a brunette smart girl who got picked up by James four weeks ago. Even though she quickly fell for him for his good looks and natural charm, she slowly felt annoyed by his constant bragging and immature behavior. However, she had agreed to let the group of friends hang out in her grandmother's antique shop this evening, a decision she started to regret already.

"Hey, look at these things. These are pretty weird, aren't they? What's this even supposed to be?"

"That's a gargoyle. They usually guard churches or the like. Or are supposed to bring luck." Cathrine explained.

"Hah! Bring luck. More like bringing ugliness. How is anyone supposed to see luck in that, huh?" James laughed and prodded the figure.

Catherine grimaced. "Honey, please don't touch anything. I had to promise grandma that nothing would be broken."

"Relax, Cathy, everything's fine! I'm not gonna break anything. Hey, do you think grandma would miss one of her creepy statues?"

"James, please!"

"Okay okay", he joked and looked around the shelves before something caught his eye.

"Hey, guys, check this out!"

He quickly stepped closer and, ignoring Catherines sigh, took the object from the blue pillow it was placed on.

"Cool! Is that a magic lamp, like from Aladdin?" he asked. Really, the brass object looked like a prop from the film. An old-fashioned oil lamp, with an oriental flair to it.

"Please, be careful with that. I don't know much about it, but I know it's an antique and really expensive."

"Yeah, yeah", James waved her off and continued to examine the lamp. By now his friends had gathered around him to watch. Giving them a show, he rubbed the lamp theatrically, but of course, nothing happened. Nevertheless, it brought him cheers and hollers from his buddies.

"The genie is just shy!", one of them joked.

"Oh, a shy one? Perhaps it's a genie lady that just needs some proper motivation?" James immediately agreed.

He raised the lamp to his face and made a kiss-face. "Don't be shy, miss genie! Oh, what is that?"

He held the lamp to his ear as if he was listening to a voice from inside.

"You want me too... what? Oh, you're being naughty miss genie! But I'm not complaining; your wish is my command!"

With that, James lowered the lamp to his groin and held it in front of his package. When he began humping the brass object, his buddies were already laughing tears. Catherine was a little annoyed on how immature James acted but couldn't help but smile as well.

What happened next, however, came as a surprise, not only for James but for Catherine and the guys, too:

In the span of seconds, James' body became engulfed in blue smoke. No, that wasn't exactly right: A more precise description was that James' body *became* blue smoke. It began at his hands, holding the lamp and quickly spread up his arms. The brass oil lamp fell to the ground as the blue smoke that had once been James' hands had not enough substance anymore to hold it.

But even dropping the item didn't stop the process. His entire upper body was turning into the ethereal blue smoke.

"Guys... Guys! What's happening?", he yelled out, but his buddies had no idea either. They were watching, perplexed, as James' body began dissolving. After a few moments, only smoke remained where moments before, James had been standing. Then, suddenly, the smoke was being sucked into the lamp, leaving James' friends and girlfriend behind in shock.

James found himself floating in twilight. He had been caught completely off-guard by his body dissolving into smoke, and he didn't have time to react or run away then. Now there was just... nothing around him. Gray twilight, and apparently no gravity surrounded him. There was some sort of light and air, but this world he now floated in lacked any point of reference whatsoever.

James checked his body, but apparently, it was alright. No sign of the blue smoke, just his regular body was hanging suspended in nothingness.

"Hello? Guys?", he tried, but nobody answered.

"Guys! Where are you?", he shouted out again, but the gray space just swallowed his words.

Suddenly, a tingling feeling ran over his body. When he looked down again, he noticed his clothes one by one fading away, until all that was left on him was his pair of underwear.

"What the fuck is happening to me?", he mumbled, a bit panicked.

The strange feeling he had only intensified however, as his very body was changing - again. However, this time, it didn't dissolve into smoke. Instead, it felt like his skin was stretching - or rather, the amount of his body was stretching. His limbs were growing and thickening, while his torso widened. At the same time, his skin became darker, reminding him more and more of a middle eastern heritage rather than his usual fair complexion.

His chest and arms ballooned out with muscle. It wasn't like he had been skinny or scrawny before - but now he didn't just look fit - he began to look more and more like a sort of body builder - one of those muscle bulls you only saw in TV or in the gym. His six-pack was becoming more visible, and his shoulders stretched wide and broad.

His legs, too, thickened and swelled, but that wasn't all. His thighs grew not just wide, but thick as well, and his calves became almost disproportionately large. Above all else, hair began to spread on his now darker skin. But it wasn't the blonde hair James was used to having on his head - it was coarse and thick hair that was dark and clearly visible on his muscular chest and arms.

At the same time, his haircut changed. While the hair on his head turned black as well, it became stylish, yet unlike anything James had tried before. The sides buzzed short and the top gelled up, he was beginning to look more and more like a young Arab hunk, perhaps from the Iran. As if on cue, dark stubble set in and covered his chin that was becoming squarer by the minute. James didn't have a mirror, but his fingers were exploring his new facial features in disbelief. As a final treat, his boxer shorts morphed into a tight pair of a simple blue fabric underwear that filled out as his manhood began to take more and more place, leaving behind his previous pretty average bulge and settling on a huge, almost obscene size.

The changes had finally stopped and James found himself suspended in the gray, twilight world, confused, scared, and sporting a very new look. He had never thought of himself as attractive before, but the changes he had just gone through had made him a prime stud.

However, he hardly had time to react, as he felt a pulling sensation all through his being. The scenery changed and he found himself back in the shop - but now, he was somehow floating a bit off the ground and looked down to one of his buddies, Greg, who held the lamp in his hand and had apparently just rubbed it.

"Whoa!", Greg exclaimed. "Who are you?"

"Guys, it's me, James!" James answered. "I somehow got sucked into the lamp thing and now your wish is my command, master."

A moment of silence followed and James realized what he just said. Despite his impressive muscular new body, the last words, which he had not meant to say at all, had sounded respectful and submissive.

"What is this bullshit? Who are you and what are you talking about?" Greg asked.

"I'm... I'm James" James stuttered. "And, apparently, your wish is my command. Just say 'I wish' and I will make your heart’s desire come true."

Again, James had only partial control over what he was saying. The last part had come out without him meaning to.

Greg was taken aback somewhat. "I wish...? I dunno. You're pretty gay like that!"

James only realized what was happening as he felt a mighty surge of power move through his body and heard himself say: "And so it shall be."

Did Greg just wish for James to be gay?! Luckily nothing seemed to be happening, until all heads turned as Catherine exhaled a low surprised moan.

James watched in horror as now her body was changing. Her breast flattened in a matter of seconds and her hair shortened to a stylish men's cut. At the same time, her body widened and her shoulders became broad. Her skin became rougher and little hairs spread all over her body. By the moment, her clothes were becoming too tight on a lot of places and too loose on some others. Catherine's face became a masculine version of itself, just like it would look like if she had been born a boy. Her nose was now strong and prominent, and her jawline was becoming stronger. Her face, too, was covered with a dark stubble that continued down her neck a bit before stopping at about where her now pronounced Adam's apple sat. When she let out another shocked noise, it was at least an octave lower than before.

Her new lean masculine look was completed by a bulge in her pants that quickly filled out with the last part of her new distinctively male anatomy.

At first, James had hated to watch Catherine's... No, Kit's feminine features melt away like that. But the longer he watched the better Kit looked, James decided. When his new cock popped into existence, James even felt himself get a bit hard from watching his lover. Kit was his soulmate, his one true love. James didn't care how gay it was - he liked men - and this man especially.

He turned back to Greg with mixed feelings. On the one hand, he was happy about having Kit, but on the other hand, he was horrified about what was happening to him. He needed to beg him to stop!

But instead, all that came out was: "You have two wishes left, master."

Check out this awesome writer as well!

If you like my stories, you can use my riot page as a tip jar. There will only be tiny bits of exclusive content there, though, so it's mainly just that - a tip jar :)

#male transformation #straight to gay #muscle transformation #racial transformation

[ageingfangirl2]

Do Not Disturb! Shanks (OPLA)

After a night of drinking, Shanks is annoyed and you are sent in to see what's wrong. You put your foot in your mouth and Shanks lets out his frustrations. Shanks x Reader (female) SMUT

Y/N

It was a hot day, and there was one benefit of being a female pirate, you could swap your trousers for a skirt. Your skirts were practical, resting just below your knees with a small slit on the side making movement easier in a fight. You put on your normal white blouse and a brown skirt to match your new brown boots. Living on a ship full of guys you didn't wear makeup, so you simply brushed your hair and put it up in. a ponytail so in the heat it didn't stick to your neck.

This was your second day docked on an island you couldn't remember the name of, your first day and night was a blur due to partying and drinking. Maybe today you could explore and do some shopping.

You walk onto the deck and shield your eyes from the sun. Most of the crew had already left but Benn was standing looking over some documents while smoking.

He looks over at you and smirks, 'looking pretty little lady. You heading off as well?'

Benn was a charmer and your smoking buddy, 'I'm going to grab some water first. Can you get me some smokes and I'll pay you later? You always get the good ones.'

Benn winks at you and goes to head off the ship, 'I'll always get you the good stuff, nothing is too good for my little lady.'

You go to head to the kitchen when you hear Benn call out, 'Can you check on the captain, his conquest left earlier and he's been silent.'

You roll your eyes at the request. Why did it always fall on you to check on Shanks? You were convinced before you joined the crew that most of the guys had seen each other naked so it shouldn't be a shock to them. A few times they sent you in when the hookup hadn't left yet because Shanks couldn't get mad at you. The girl who'd been all over him last night was a prostitute and not a high-class one at that from the way they dressed, but pirates weren't fussy. Before you turned in for the night you checked on Shanks who had called you jealous because he wasn't paying attention to you.

It was common knowledge amongst the crew that from time to time you and Shanks slept together, they even sent you in to calm him down. You might have also given Benn a blow job when drunk and you were out of cigarettes, but other than that you took care of your own needs and hooked up whenever you docked somewhere. There was no real title for you and Shanks, but you weren't jealous because you weren't together.

You knock on Shank's door and get no reply so put your hand on the handle, 'I'm coming in Shanks,' you call out.

The room was dark, the curtains still drawn only letting in a crack of light to illuminate the space. The bed was a mess and your eyes focus on Shanks who was butt naked leaning over his desk with his back to you, giving you a nice view of his ass.

'Captain, Benn wanted me to see if you were okay. You're alive so I'll go,' you say calmly, before turning to leave.

Shanks growls stopping you in your tracks, 'THAT BITCH STOLE FROM ME!'

You can't help but throw your head back and laugh, 'and you called me jealous. You need to get yourself better standards, wait until the guys hear about this, the great Shanks robbed by a cheap whore.'

Shanks's head snaps towards you and immediately you stop laughing and back up, but bump into the small sofa he had. Shanks stalks towards you, something dark behind his eyes, you were his prey.

'Then what does that make you?' he chuckles darkly.

Next thing you know he's spinning you around and pushing you over the arm of the sofa, your face hitting the worn leather leaving you back exposed. His hand pushes up your skirt and you squirm feeling the cold air on your backside.

'Oh shit!' you gasp, Shanks grabbing your ponytail and pulling your head up.

'I asked you a question, answer me,' he states, voice deep from sleep and alcohol.

You gulp, 'Err a girl in the wrong place at the wrong time captain.'

He grunts and releases your ponytail before his hand comes down swiftly on your cheeks making you scream because you weren't expecting this.

'You're funny,' one more smack, 'you're not a cheap whore, you're simply a whore,' another smack, 'at least a cheap whore gets paid,' a fourth smack, 'you're a whore for you captain.'

With each smack, you thrust against the sofa biting your lip. Shanks wasn't lying, his words didn't hurt you, they turned you on.

'then fuck away your problem captain, that's what I'm here for,' you say shakily, your breath catching a little.

Shanks pulls down your underwear and you shift to shed them completely, your clit pressed against the cold leather, 'Beautiful,' he whispers.

You moan loudly as he aligns himself, feeling his tip rubbing against your opening, 'fuck me, captain,' you beg, no shame in your voice.

There weren't many attractive guys on this island so you had to get your release somehow.

Without warning Shanks thrusts, and you take all of him inside you, walls clenching as your hips buck. Shanks grabs your ponytail again as he slams into you more forcefully than the last.

'The ships empty, I want to hear you, we both know you're quite vocal,' Shanks mocks.

'YES...OH FUCK...' you moan loudly, 'FILL ME UP CAPTAIN!'

Shanks continues to fuck you, his grunts mixing with your moans as the only other sound in the room was skin-on-skin contact. You'd hooked up enough times to know when both of you were close.

'CUM FOR ME!' Shanks commands.

You come undone around him, your eyes rolling back as you try to catch your breath. His thrusts become sloppier until he unloads inside you. He keeps his dick inside as you both come down together, if the heat outside didn't make you a sweaty mess, you were a sweaty mess now.

'Good girl,' Shanks coos as he pulls out.

You get back to your feet and pull your skirt back down which was now crumpled, when Benn saw you he'd know what happened. Shanks leans down and kisses your forehead, all the anger from earlier gone.

'Feeling better?' you ask, fixing your ponytail.

Shanks smirks, 'I am now. God, you're too good to me y/n, I guess I can't mope forever.'

TIMESKIP

SHANKS

It was evening when I saw y/n again, their skirt still wrinkled from our morning activity. They said they wanted to explore the town. Benn who was sat next to me on the deck bends down and picks something up before throwing it at them which they catch with ease.

'Thank you, Benn, how much do I owe?' y/n asks, eyeing the box of cigarettes in their hands.

Benn waves them off, 'This one is on me y/n.'

y/n blows him a kiss, before walking past me, they pause, 'I got something for you captain, I'll leave it in your quarters,' they whisper.

I enter my quarters later on and see two things on my desk. One of them was my stolen compass, and the other was a bag of money. I can't help but laugh at the fact that y/n also got me my money back. I didn't want to know what they did to get this back to me, but it was better to have them on your side.

#anime fanfiction #anime imagines #opla #one piece fanfiction #one piece imagines #one piece live action #one piece #one piece live action imagines #one piece live action fanfiction #anime blog #opla shanks #opla shanks imgaines #opla shanks fanfiction #shanks x reader #shanks smut #one piece shanks #one piece shanks fanfiction #one piece shanks imagines #shanks x reader smut #anime smut #one piece smut #opla smut #red haired pirates #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #shanks one piece #shanks opla

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 6: The House Of Salt And Scales]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, infidelity, Evangelical Christians, kids, parenthood, Willis Warning, (Mis)Adventures With Aegon, Targ family dysfunction, bodily injury, blood, alligators, ANGST!!!

Word Count: 7.5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon

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“Did you hear that Willis is single again?”

Ugh. “Yes, Mama. I heard. You told me already.” You linger in the doorway with a white bakery box in your hands: your mother’s favorite, grasshopper pie, straight out of the 1960s. She allegedly ate through two a week when she was pregnant with you. Cadi has already dashed inside and made herself at home; she’s probably jamming the movie she got from Blockbuster—Predator, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Amir recommended it—into the VHS player. “You told me, Willis told me, all his deputies told me, Cadi told me, my mailman told me, the checkout ladies at the Piggly Wiggly told me, literally every resident of Napoleonville has informed me in no uncertain terms that Willis is single again. And I could not possibly care less.”

Your mother sighs and presses a hand to her forehead, wounded and incredulous, like she’s just watched a 60 Minutes segments about a tsunami or a genocide. “I just don’t understand it. In my day, people married for life.”

You glance back longingly at your Chevy Celebrity. “Yeah. I know they did.”

“When your father, and God rest his soul, when he was young, he was a hellion,” your mother says, as if you don’t remember it, as if you weren’t there. “He’d get his paycheck every Friday and stay out all night with his buddies, sometimes he didn’t come home the whole weekend. I’d lay into him when he finally showed, I’d say, ‘Rene, how on earth am I supposed to put dinner on the table if I don’t have any fish in the icebox?!’ Once he punched a hole in the kitchen wall and I had to cover it up with a picture of President Eisenhower! And I never even thought about leaving. How could I have done that to you? Forcing you to grow up in a broken home? Mothers and fathers living apart, whoever heard of such a thing? It’s unnatural.”

You’re brainstorming recipes to distract yourself. Caramel pretzel cookies. Banana chiffon pie. Cheese Danish cupcakes with diced cherries and a hint of vanilla. “Everyone draws their own lines, Mama.”

“But it’s not just about you,” she implores, her eyes shimmering with sympathy she never had for other women. You remember what she said on the rare occasions you confided in her about your frustrations with Willis: Of course a man isn’t going to want you bothering him with your feelings when he’s had a hard day at work. Of course a man—after you’ve had his baby, after you almost died to do it—is going to be crossing off days on the calendar until you can have sex again. He keeps a roof over your head and he never hits you, what more could you ask for? “What about Cadi? What if she grows up thinking that her marriage vows don’t mean anything? It’s the foundation of society, marriage. If that goes, everything goes.”

It’s the foundation of a lot of coercion and unfairness and misery, that’s for sure. “I wouldn’t want Cadi to stay in a situation that makes her unhappy. Would you?”

Your mother throws her hands up, like you’ve told her you’re converting to communism and catching the next flight to the USSR. “Life isn’t just about happiness, sweetheart! It’s about commitment, it’s about responsibility! If everyone did what they wanted all the time, no one would stay married!”

“Maybe that speaks to the value of marriage as an institution.”

“And morality is already falling apart in this country,” your mother continues, ignoring you. That’s what she does when she can’t refute facts, logic, evidence. “Young people living together, women having babies with two or three different men, people doing drugs, people on Welfare, people shooting and stabbing each other, sex shops everywhere, naughty magazines at gas stations, men wanting to marry other men—”

“Okay, Mama. I really have to go now.”

“Alright, I’ll shut up. I will, I will, I swear.” She makes peace with a brisk kiss to your cheek like a stamp on an envelope. “Enjoy a nice quiet night to yourself. Do you have any plans?”

Well, Mama, I’m trying to resist the temptation to call my engaged dominant oil tycoon not-boyfriend and tell him to come over for kinky adulterous sex. “Not really. I’ll probably take a bubble bath and then watch something Cadi would think is boring, like 20/20.” You hand over the bakery box, and your mother’s face lights up.

“Grasshopper pie?!”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. You know it’s hard for me to make it myself anymore. This rheumatoid arthritis, it’s got me all twisted up.” She nods down to where her fingers grip the box, knobby and increasingly useless.

“When’s your next appointment?”

“I’ve got one in…oh…about three weeks, I think. I’d have to check my daybook. All the way over in New Orleans with some specialist that Dr. Cormier recommended.”

“Okay. Want me to go with you?”

“Yes, that’d be fine.” It would be more than fine; she wants you to go, though she won’t say it. You aren’t sure if she doesn’t want to impose or doesn’t want to admit how reliant she’s becoming upon you, like growing up in reverse.

“Mawmaw!” Cadi shouts from inside the house. “Hurry up! I want to watch Predator!”

“You quit your hollering, I’ll be right there!” Then your mother looks to you and offers one last piece of very unsolicited advice. “Just be kind to Willis, alright? Give him a chance. I don’t think he’ll ever find a woman he likes as much as you. That’s what everyone says.”

“Mama, he has no idea who I am.” And he’s not interested either.

“Sure he does. You’re the mother of his child, and you always will be. Maybe you’ll find your way back to each other.”

“I’ll think about it.” You definitely won’t. “Goodnight, Mama.”

“So long.” She shuffles into the house, and once she’s shut the door you hear her muffled voice: “Arcadia, come on over here and help me slice up this pie…”

You drive home with the windows down and blasting St. Elmo’s Fire. There’s still an hour or two of sunlight left; the world is painted in gold and blood orange, the soybeans, the sugarcane, the grass growing tall and wild, the Spanish moss swinging from the trees, the earth ripening as its revolution hurtles towards the apex of summer. Cadi is out of school until August. Amir will be announcing his looming departure to San Francisco. Aemond will be getting married.

The adolescent alligator that Aemond is so afraid of is in the far corner of the front yard, basking in the last of the daylight. You walk into your room, flop down on the bed, lie there staring longingly at the pink phone on your nightstand. You reach to pick it up, then stop yourself. Aemond hasn’t fucked you, hasn’t kissed you, has rarely touched you at all since you found out about Christabel. But he stops by your house and invites you to his; he stitches himself into your life like someone somewhere once sutured his face back together.

I can’t. It’s wrong. He’s engaged.

Aemond doesn’t know you’re home alone. It’s Friday, and usually Cadi would be here with you until tomorrow morning.

Maybe it’s not really cheating until he’s married. I mean, if Aemond and Christabel aren’t sleeping together, if they almost never see each other…is it even a real relationship?

Wistful thinking, yes, denial, yes; but with each passing minute your resolve not to pick up the phone weakens.

We don’t have much longer until the wedding. Our time is slipping away.

He’s a robber baron. He’s arrogant, he’s delusional.

And I want him. I still do, and I can’t stop.

The phone rings. You sit up, startled. It’s not Aemond, you tell yourself so you won’t be disappointed when it isn’t him. But it is.

“Hi,” Aemond says; he sounds out of breath. “I’m really sorry to bother you.”

“No, it’s okay, Cadi is actually having a sleepover with my mom. They’re watching Predator. My mom has no idea what it’s about, she’ll be clutching that Bible she got signed by Jerry Falwell a little extra hard tonight. What’s up?”

“This is going to sound random, but…you haven’t seen Aegon, have you? He hasn’t shown up at your house, he hasn’t called? You don’t know where he is?”

Aegon? Why would I know anything about what Aegon’s doing right now? “Um, no…?”

A long exhale, a lull that’s full of dread.

“Aemond, what’s going on?”

“He and my father got into it a few hours ago. They were screaming at each other, kicking furniture over, which isn’t all that unusual, honestly. But then Aegon ran away.”

“Wait, like, he’s gone…?”

“He stormed out the back door, went down to the lake, and then headed north into the trees. And I assumed he’d be back by now, but it’s getting dark and he’s not here. He never came home. His Porsche is still sitting in the driveway.” There is a pause. “I think he’s out there.”

“Out where?”

“In the woods,” Aemond says, shellshocked, terrified. “In the bayou.”

Your eyes dart to the window; the golden daylight is dwindling. “Aemond, he can’t be alone in the bayou. It’s dangerous. He could die. There aren’t just alligators, there are wild boars, cottonmouths, copperheads, snapping turtles, brown recluses, fire ants, I don’t think there are any black bears this far south but it’s always possible, he could drown, he could get trapped in quicksand, you cannot let Aegon spend the night out there.”

“I don’t know what to do.” You’re not used to hearing this in Aemond’s voice: the panic, the vulnerability. “No one else seems worried. They said he disappears all the time, and that’s true. They’re convinced he’s found his way to a strip club or a Waffle House or something and will drag himself home eventually. No one will listen to me. My father has forbidden me from getting anyone else involved. He doesn’t want gossip getting around town and overshadowing the new rig project or…you know. The wedding thing. My wedding. And I can go over his head, sure, I can make calls, but when investigators show up here to start searching my father is just going to tell them to leave. How is it even possible to find Aegon? At night in a fucking swamp? Is anyone going to be willing to go out there before morning? Do I need people with bloodhounds or a helicopter?”

No way, you think as soon as the idea hits you. But it’s the right thing to do. It’s the only thing to do. “I can think of someone who knows their way around the bayou.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s just after 7 p.m. when Willis arrives to pick you up: grinning smugly, mullet fluffed, Plymouth Gran Fury hauling his brand new 20-foot jon boat. He’s dressed for night fishing in boots, camo-colored waders, and a grey hoodie with SHERIFF printed across the front in black letters. You climb into the passenger seat wearing sneakers, denim shorts, and a blue raincoat over your Pepsi t-shirt. You haven’t been fishing since you were married to Willis, and you’ve never missed it. It’s a grisly business: hooks through lips, hooks through eyeballs, hooks swallowed and tangled up in some doomed creature’s guts.

Aemond is waiting at the mouth of the Targaryens’ driveway, just out of sight of the mansion they call The Last Desire. He gets in the back seat and sits there testily with his arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line, glaring out the window as an indistinct blur of primeval vegetation passes by outside. He has on his Marlboro jacket, light-wash jeans, and Adidas sneakers. You hope he doesn’t ruin them; although you suppose he can always buy more. He could buy a hundred more, a thousand more, and it wouldn’t make a difference. You can’t fathom what it’s like to live that way. It seems to conflict with all the laws of man and nature.

Aemond speaks grudgingly to Willis, a quick flat statement that invites no conversation. He didn’t call Willis to explain the situation, you did. You’re afraid to leave them alone with each other. You aren’t sure who would be more likely to end up a corpse decomposing in the muddy silt at the bottom of Lake Verret. “Thank you for agreeing to help with this.”

Willis chuckles warmly, either oblivious to Aemond’s prickliness or unbothered by it. “Bien sur! It’s my job, son. We’ll hunt your brother down.” Then he glances over at you, smirking, prying. “So, sugar…how’d you two make each other’s acquaintance?”

“Amir and I baked the cakes for his engagement party.”

“Engagement party, huh?” Willis looks at Aemond in the rearview mirror. “You gettin’ married?”

Aemond is still staring out the window. “Obviously.”

“So you ain’t single?”

“Legally, I am in fact single until the day the marriage license is signed.”

Willis returns his attention to you. “So he ain’t the petit ami you’ve been so secretive about.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Willis. I really can’t be more clear than that.”

“Oh, I know you got one. I know all your looks, sugar. Some days you come ‘round my office lookin’ lovesick, like you’re just a-floatin’ on a cloud. Other days you’re real mean, like you don’t want me takin’ none of your time, like you got somebody more important to spend it on. And then sometimes you just look…” He smiles, mischievous. “Well, how can I put it? Satisfied. The cat who ate the canary. And I recall exactly what that looks like on you. It’s been a while, sure. But I remember.”

From the back seat, Aemond sighs irritably. You say to Willis: “Can we please focus on finding Aegon?”

“Sois calme, sois calme. That’s why I’m here. We’ll be in the water in ten minutes.”

There is no more discussion; the only sound is the radio, Holding Out For A Hero by Bonnie Tyler. Willis turns onto a winding dirt road that leads to a boat launch about a mile from the Targaryens’ property. He spins his Plymouth Gran Fury around and backs it down the concrete ramp towards the rippling, slow-moving currents of Lake Verret. It’s difficult to see from the driver’s seat—most people would have someone get out to guide them—but Willis knows the way by heart. He’s been on boats since before he could walk; Willis’ daddy knew the bayou, and his daddy knew the bayou, and his daddy did too, all the way back to before the Louisiana Purchase. Your family are newer arrivals (relatively speaking), having only been in Napoleonville for about 100 years and keeping mostly to the town. You remember your 11th grade science teacher saying once that alligators have been around since before the dinosaurs went extinct. Maybe that’s what Willis is: a relic of a distant time and species, afflicted with a cunning ruggedness that won’t allow his kind to go extinct.

When the trailer is mostly underwater, Willis gets out of the car to unhook the straps that keep the boat moored to it. You go outside to help and Aemond follows, though he doesn’t know what to do. He’s never handled a boat this size and it shows; perhaps a yacht would be more his speed. He stands aside and watches, frowning, hands buried in the pockets of his Marlboro jacket. His lack of expertise riles him. He’s not used to being the incapable one. He hates not having control.

Willis already has a tow rope tied to a metal handle at the bow of the jon boat; he lifts it out and gives the free end to Aemond. “Hold onto that, will ya? Don’t let her get away.”

“Sure,” Aemond replies ungenerously. Willis returns to his Plymouth Gran Fury to finish backing the trailer into the lake until the boat floats. Standing on the shore together, you and Aemond stare at each other, unable to speak honestly, unable to decide what you’d say even if you could.

The jon boat bobs in the water, and you show Aemond how to pull it away from the trailer using the tow rope. Willis drives the trailer back onto dry land, parks his car in a flat area near the boat launch, and then joins you and Aemond by the water’s edge. He walks to where the boat is floating just to the right side of the concrete ramp and, with some difficulty, clambers inside as the boat rocks under his weight. Then he stands in the middle of it and gestures for you to approach. “Let’s get goin’, sugar.”

You take Willis’ hands when he reaches for you and let him help you into the jon boat. When you stumble over a bench seat, he steadies you with a hand on your waist, familiar but in no way erotic; not for you, at least. Still, from where he is standing on the lakeshore with the tow rope, Aemond glowers venomously.

“Your turn, son,” Willis calls to him, winking. “And I promise not to get too sweet with ya.”

But Aemond doesn’t need any assistance to board the vessel. He has long limbs, good balance, and an ironclad determination not to let Willis see him falter. Aemond sits at the bow of the boat. You claim a spot in the middle. Willis takes a seat at the stern, starts the outboard motor, and guides the boat into the treacherous swampland that lurks like a stalking animal at the edges of Lake Verret.

In the bayou, the water is sluggish, currentless, thick with vivid green salvinia and duckweed. Towering bald cypress trees grow out of the opaque depths and are adorned with greyish, anemic bundles of Spanish moss like spiderwebs. Mangrove trees with their myriad of semi-submerged roots are sanctuaries for catfish, turtles, baby alligators. Larger gators—as big as the female that lives in your yard, and some up to seven or eight feet—prowl with only their nostrils and ancient yellow eyes peeking out from under the water. Great blue herons tiptoe along the shallow shoreline and stab at fish that unknowingly flit between their long skeletal legs. Cicadas shriek in the trees so loudly they almost drown out the hum of the boat’s motor. When the last of the daylight vanishes, Willis tells Aemond to turn on the spotlight mounted to the bow, and the water becomes a soupy, greenish, primordial witch’s brew beneath its glow. Aemond lights a cigarette and puffs on it as he ponders this alien corner of the world that he’s found himself in.

Willis has a number of items stowed on the flat aluminum floor of the boat, you notice now: nets, paddles in case the motor fails, bottles of water, ropes, fishing poles, flashlights, hunting knives, a few sturdy wooden walking sticks. He’s wearing his sheriff’s pistol on a belt fastened over his waders. This makes you uneasy, though you can’t recall ever seeing him use it. It seems wrong to be able to end a life with so little effort.

“Aegon!” Aemond shouts from the bow, using a flashlight to look to the sides of the boat where the spotlight’s luminescence doesn’t shine so brightly. You grab your own flashlight to help him search. “Aegon! Where are you?!”

There’s something burning in your nose and throat as you lean over the side of the boat to peer into the shadowy wilderness. Salt, you realize, but that doesn’t make any sense. Lake Verret is a freshwater lake. You turn towards where Willis is steering the boat with the rumbling gas-powered motor. “Do you smell that?”

“Yup. Sure do.”

“But…how…?”

“One of the rigs mighta hit a salt dome while they were drillin’, I figure,” Willis says. “There’s been talk for years that we got salt domes under the lake. But that don’t stop these oil companies.” He stares meaningfully at Aemond. Aemond glances back, rather abashed. “And ya know what that means. If the water turns brackish, most of the fish’ll die. And who’s got to live with that for generations to come? Not the Targaryens or the Rockefellers, that’s for sure.”

Aemond resumes shouting for his wayward eldest brother. A dark snake, perhaps six feet long, slithers down the length of the boat through the murky water. “Aegon! Aegon!”

“What did he and Viserys argue about?” you ask.

Aemond is cagy. “It’s…kind of personal.”

“Personal like he got a stripper pregnant or personal like he murdered someone in a drunken hit-and-run?”

“Neither. But closer to the first option.” Then he roars into the darkness: “Aegon!”

“Maybe the bon a rien already found his way back home,” Willis says. “Maybe—”

And then there is an echo through the bayou, faint but vaguely human, a ghost, a phantom. “Aegon!” Aemond shouts back. “Where are you?!” Willis cuts the boat engine so you can hear the reply.

Faintly, very faintly, his disembodied voice drifts out of the trees. “Over here! Help me! Quickly! Seriously, really really quickly!!”

“Keep talking!” Aemond yells. Willis is listening intently, trying to pinpoint a direction. His thick, dark eyebrows are knit together in concentration that is rare for him.

Barely audible over the screams of the cicadas: “What the fuck am I supposed to say?! Just get over here and save me!”

“We’re trying to figure out where your voice is coming from, so don’t stop talking!”

“Help me! Come help me!! Right now!! My arms are getting tired!!”

“What? What are you doing with your arms?!”

“I got him,” Willis says. He restarts the motor and steers the boat down a narrow corridor of the swamp. The path is only about ten yards wide and bordered by mangrove trees with nests of exposed, labyrinthian roots. The water is probably relatively shallow: five feet, ten feet, just deep enough for secrets. The breeze is cool and wet, almost chilly. On the shore, you spy a snapping turtle the size of a golden retriever. Its long prehistoric claws are coated with mud and green blades of marsh grass. It ogles you as if to say: What are you doing here? You don’t belong here. This is where the dinosaurs that survived the asteroid live.

“Aegon?” Aemond calls.

“Here! Over here! I can see you, I see the lights! Oh my God, I’m not gonna die! Thank you Jesus!”

Aemond laughs in relief. “I didn’t think you two knew each other.”

“Shut up and save me, you muppet!”

And then you see Aegon—the spotlight hits him, he is illuminated in a stark white glow—and your stomach plummets, your blood goes cold. In an alcove of the bayou, right where the water meets the shore, Aegon is up in a bald cypress tree. He’s about five feet off the ground and standing on top of a branch just thick enough to hold his weight. It’s too narrow to balance comfortably on; he is hugging the trunk to ensure he doesn’t fall, and a fall would be catastrophic. Sprawled on the muck surrounding the base of the tree are a plethora of alligators, all approximately ten feet in length. That’s big enough to be lethal humans. That would be big enough to kill a bear, a horse, a shark. When the spotlight shines on them, the gators begin to squirm and hiss, glaring with soulless reptilian wrath at the boat. Willis shuts off the motor, and the boat bobs placidly.

“Oh, fuck,” Aemond says.

“Yeah, exactly!” Aegon pitches back. He’s wearing an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and tiny turquoise blue shorts. He is barefoot. “So what’s the plan?! By the way, hey, cake lady.”

“Hi, Aegon.”

Aemond says: “How the hell did you get up there?”

“I was pissed off about the dad thing and I was walking for a long time, then I realized I was probably in the wrong neighborhood for someone with two legs and no desire to get eaten. I tried to find my way back but then these pig-looking things started chasing me and I freaked out and climbed up here to hide until they left. But as the sun went down, alligators started showing up. And the more time went by, the more alligators there were. And that’s the whole story, can you get me down now?!”

Aemond asks Willis, petrified: “How do we get him down?”

Willis surveys the scene for a moment, thinking. “Alright. Here’s what I reckon. We can toss him one end of a rope and he can tie it to the branch above him, right at the base where it’s real thick. Then we’ll hold the other end of the rope, and he can kinda shimmy on down it into the boat.”

Aegon says: “But what if right before I get to the boat, when I’m like four feet above the water, an alligator jumps out and bites me?”

“They don’t usually do that,” Willis replies.

“Usually?!”

“Look, we don’t have a lot of options,” Aemond tells his brother. “We can do the rope plan now, or we can leave you here, backtrack all the way to the boat launch, get the car, get some help, and hope they magically have a better solution for you. Or you can wait up there until morning to see if the alligators leave. You pick.”

“Isn’t that the hick sheriff guy? Can’t he shoot them?”

“Gators got brains ‘bout the size of a walnut, son,” Willis says. “And if I don’t hit ‘em where it counts, I’m just gonna make them angrier. That ain’t good for any of us.”

“Okay,” Aegon concedes. “Throw me a rope.”

Willis grabs one from the bottom of the jon boat, hands an end to Aemond, and tosses the other to Aegon. It takes the eldest Targaryen boy four attempts to catch it; the rope keeps falling and smacking the hissing alligators in the face before Willis lugs it back to the boat to try again. Once he finally obtains the rope, Aegon knots it—double, triple, quadruple—around where the branch above him, just barely within reach if he stretches as far as he can, meets the massive trunk of the bald cypress tree. Willis tells Aemond: “Now ya gotta hold the rope real tight. No slack at all, or it’ll dip and he’ll end up in a gator’s lap.”

“Yeah, Aemond!” Aegon says, his voice shaky. “No slack!”

“Got it.” Aemond loops his end of the rope around his waist, makes a knot, and then grips it with both hands and tugs it until it forms a straight diagonal line from the tree to the boat.

“Ya sure you wanna do that?” Willia says softly, nodding to Aemond’s waist. “If somethin’ goes wrong and he ends up in the water, you’ll be goin’ in with him.”

“I’m sure.”

“Alrighty.” Willis grabs one of the heavy wooden walking sticks from the aluminum floor of the boat. “If a gator tries to cause a problem, I’ll whack ‘em good. Don’t let ‘em get their jaws ‘round ya, not an arm or a leg or nothin’. If they get ahold of ya, they’ll roll and rip your bones right outta the sockets.”

“Awesome,” Aegon says from the tree. “I’m so glad you told me that. Yeah. Great. Any more super helpful alligator trivia, Sasquatch?”

“Yes sir. If one chomps down on ya, poke it in the eye with your fingers. A whack to the snout or a poke to the eye is the best way outta a gator’s mouth.”

Aegon gulps and clutches the rope, steeling himself.

“What should I do?” you ask Willis. “Should I get a stick too—?”

“Nothin’. You don’t do nothin’. You just sit down right in the middle and keep the boat steady. And if your petit ami starts goin’ overboard, maybe try to snatch him. But don’t ya fall in. Ya don’t want to be in that water. If there are gators above the water, there are gators below too. I guarantee it.”

You sit in the precise middle of the boat, using your weight to reinforce the vessel’s center of gravity as Aemond and Willis stand at opposing ends. Right before Aegon begins his descent, Aemond snags your attention. He makes a motion with one hand, a slicing, a prohibition. Don’t do anything insane, he means. Don’t risk trying to drag me back into the boat if I start going over.

“Whenever ya ready, bon a rien,” Willis says. And no one else but you knows that what he’s calling Aegon is a good-for-nothing.

Aegon begins scurrying down the length of the rope, rapidly closing the distance between himself and the bobbing jon boat. He passes above the hissing gators congregating at the base of the bald cypress tree and then over the water, where there are ripples that multiply out from epicenters and flashes of movement just beneath the surface but no homicidal alligator activity. When Aegon nears the boat, Willis seizes him and helps him into it; and then Aegon ruptures into hysterical giggles.

“I almost died, can you believe that?” he asks Aemond, who is untying the rope from his waist and beaming, the first real smile you’ve seen from him tonight. “Because I ran away from Viserys?! What an idiotic way to go. I’ll never let that bastard convince me to off myself. I gotta outlive him. I gotta do Jello shots on that motherfucker’s grave someday.”

“Yeah, you do,” Aemond agrees, squeezing Aegon’s shoulder.

“Goddammit,” Willis grumbles. He’s using his walking stick to jab at the water near the rear of the boat. “We’re hooked on a mangrove root or something.”

“Do you need help?” Aemond asks, headed towards him.

“Yes sir, if you’d be so kind. I don’t…I can’t see…what the hell is it stuck to?”

“The motor…? The blades of the motor?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, you’re right. Yup. There it is. We musta drifted into it while we were preoccupied. Okay, we gotta push the boat off the root and then we can get movin’ again. Grab a stick, let’s start pushin’.”

“Should I get a stick too?” Aegon says, joining them. “I can hit stuff with sticks. I really want to get out of here…”

There’s a bit of a commotion at the back of the boat as the men try to propel it away from the mangrove tree. Willis is complaining that the water is too deep to touch the bottom with his stick. Aemond’s stick keeps slipping off the mangrove roots when he tries to get leverage. You aren’t sure what Aegon is contributing, if anything. The boat has begun to rock.

You look to the tree where Aegon had been imprisoned. The alligators are fully awake now; they are headed into the water and disappearing there, unseen, unheard, and yet all around you.

“I think we need to go now,” you say, but no one is listening to you. They’re still wrestling with the mangrove root. You rise, taking a few steps to the left to offset the boat’s listing towards the right. “Guys, we need to—”

The boat is freed from its organic jailor and lurches sharply towards the left. As the men cheer triumphantly—completely unaware of what’s happening—you are jolted off your feet and tumble backwards over the side of the boat.

The shock of hitting the water stuns you. It is cold and impossibly dark; when you open your eyes to try to find the surface, the boat, you can’t see anything. You paddle blindly. Something brushes your leg, and you scream bubbles of mute terror. You can’t breathe, you can’t think, you are picturing those ten-foot gators slinking into the water that you’re now thrashing wildly through. You swim towards what you think is the surface and strike unyielding metal—the underbelly of the boat—hard enough to put stars in your skull like the flashes of lightning bugs. You get turned around and don’t know where you are again. Something glides past your arm, and you gasp before remembering that there’s no air. Dark water—salt and silt and decomposition—surges into your lungs, your stomach, sinking you like an anchor from within. There is a whirlpool of motion around you and muffled shouting. Then something closes around your wrist.

The eyes! you think frantically. I have to poke out its eyes!

But the vice around your flesh has no teeth. It’s not a reptilian jaw, you realize now, but a human hand. It leads you and you obey.

When you break the surface, you cough bayou water from your throat and blink it out of your eyes. Willis is leaning over the side of the boat and stabbing at gators with his stick, shrieking at them in French. One lunges at him from the water, jaws snapping. Willis whips the pistol off his belt, aims it squarely between the creature’s eyes, and fires. The boom is deafening; the bleeding gator sinks into the water. Aegon is kneeling in the boat and offering his arms to help you climb up.

You look beside you. Aemond is barely keeping his head above water. “Go!” he orders you. “Get in the boat!”

With Aegon’s help, you heave yourself over the side and collapse to the aluminum floor, lungs aching, skull pounding, heart thudding mercilessly, soaked to the skin. Then you force yourself to your hands and knees to see where Aemond is.

“Aemond?!” Aegon is yelling. “Aemond, where are you?!”

He’s gone; you don’t see him in the water. You try to scream for him too, but the water still in your throat strangles you. Your hands close around the edge of the boat, and Willis grabs your raincoat to yank you backwards. “Other side!” says, pointing. “We’re gonna capsize, we need weight on the other side, go there!”

You scramble to the opposite end of the boat, sobbing now, still hacking up muddy water. Where’s Aemond?? Where is he??

Both Willis and Aegon are grasping for something. They’re shouting and stabbing into the water with their walking sticks. And then they’re hauling him into the boat: Aemond, blood pouring down the left side of his face, a gash by his temple, another on his forehead; something bit him or clawed him. He’s wearing only his jeans and a white tank top; he ripped off his Marlboro jacket before diving in after you. You don’t see his Adidas sneakers anywhere. They must have been kicked off in the water. His glass eye has been knocked out and lost in the muck. What’s left in its place is a void, gaping, pink; it’s difficult to look at, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t. It has the visceral, gory quality of organs never meant to be seen. His fingertips go to the socket to feel for his prosthetic. When he confirms it isn’t there, he covers his face with his hands and moans.

He saved me. He jumped in after me.

You crawl to him. “Aemond—”

“No!” He pushes you away, and you see that there’s blood and ancient silt from the bayou in his empty eye socket. It will have to be cleaned out. Willis watches, astonished, bewildered. For once, he is at a loss for words.

“Aemond, please…” You’d do anything to help him. You don’t know how to help him.

He saved me.

Aegon reaches for Aemond. “Hey, hey. It’s not that bad. Hey…” He drops to his knees, presses his forehead against Aemond’s, stains himself with his brother’s blood. And when Aemond tries to pull away, Aegon doesn’t let him; he’s got his fingers tangled in Aemond’s wet hair. “Thank you for saving me. I’m always almost getting myself killed and you’re always saving me. What would I do without you, huh? None of us would be okay without you. Thank you, Aemond. You hear me? You’re not gonna get this again anytime soon, so listen up. Thank you. Thank you.”

“I’m just so—”

“I know.”

“I hate that I’m like this.”

“It’s not a big deal. You’ll order a new one.”

“You know what he’s going to say.”

“Fuck him. Why do you care what he thinks? Because you think he’s the one who gets to decide what you’re worth? He isn’t. He’s not qualified.”

Aemond nods, but he doesn’t seem to be convinced. He still doesn’t look at you. He turns so the left side of his face—bloodied, eyeless—is angled towards the water and out of your view. Willis goes to the motor, starts it, and begins guiding the boat back towards the launch where he parked his Plymouth Gran Fury.

Aegon glances over at you. “You okay, cake lady?”

“Yeah.” But your voice shakes. The rest of you is shaking too; now that the adrenaline is wearing off, you can feel that you’re shivering in your wet clothes.

“Put it on,” Aemond says softly, and at first you don’t understand. Then you see that he’s pointing to his Marlboro jacket, left hurriedly flung on the floor of the boat. You unzip your dripping raincoat and don Aemond’s Marlboro jacket instead. It smells like him: smoke, cologne, effort, secrets.

“Thank you,” you tell him, wanting to say more. Aemond doesn’t answer. He stares into the murky water, greenish under the glare of the spotlight, and says nothing to anyone all the way back to the boat launch. Wordlessly, he helps Willis re-hitch the jon boat to the trailer. He remembers the steps. He’s a fast learner. The blood on his face is drying; his right eye won’t allow itself to look at you. The only sound on the drive to the Targaryens’ mansion is the radio of the Plymouth Gran Fury, which Willis turns up to cover the silence: In A Big Country.

At the end of the cobblestone driveway, lights are on in the vast house called The Last Desire. Everyone gets out of the car. Willis shakes a rather puzzled Aegon’s hand, then turns to Aemond, who ignores him. Willis chuckles, more curious than offended.

“So ya are the man who’s been givin’ her that satisfied look. I knew it. Yes, I knew what I saw. What’s your secret, son? Ya must really know your way around a woman if ya got her so mad about ya with a face like that. Ya look like the Rougarou got ahold of ya—”

Aemond grabs Willis by his hoodie, yanks him off his feet, jacks him up against the side of the sheriff’s vehicle. Immediately, you and Aegon are shouting and trying to break them apart.

You plead: “Aemond, don’t!”

“Aemond, he’s got a gun!” Aegon screeches.

Fortunately, Willis isn’t grappling for his pistol. He holds both palms in the air, open and empty, like he’s surrendering; but there’s still a smile on his face. Aemond doesn’t act like he’s heard anyone. He leans in close to Willis, his voice low and dark and snarling, his sole blue eye glinting. “You had so much in your filthy fucking hands and you just threw it away.” Then he slams Willis against the car one more time, tears away from him, and strides up the porch steps and into the house.

Aegon hurries after him, casting you a quick glance and a beckoning wave. It’s an invitation. You coming? Aegon mouths, and then vanishes inside.

Willis peers up at the house: stained glass windows, immense white columns. You don’t see any signs of Vhagar the Great Dane. Willis speaks calmly and without looking at you. “I think he’s in love with you, sugar.”

Improbable. Impossible. If he was, he couldn’t marry someone else. “He’s not.”

Now Willis’ eyes flick to you. “All I’m sayin’ is that I’ve been fishin’ on that lake since as long as I can remember, day, night, sun, storms, and nothin’ on earth would have gotten me to jump into that water. Not even Heather Locklear herself.”

“Just go, Willis,” you say, exhausted, heartsick. “Thank you for what you did tonight. But please go now.”

“How ya gonna get home?”

“I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about me.”

“Of that, I am incapable,” Willis drawls. Then he climbs into his Plymouth Gran Fury and is gone. You sprint up the porch steps in your soggy sneakers, searching for Aemond.

In the white-and-gold foyer, Viserys is just arriving. He struts across the marble floor until he is close enough to his two oldest sons to embrace them, to hit them, to extract their teeth with his knuckles. The others pour through the doorways—Alicent, Criston, Helaena, Daeron, Otto—but while they gape in horror and fascination, they don’t speak in anything more than murmurs amongst themselves. Viserys steals only a glimpse of Aegon, swift and disinterested, then examines Aemond: wet clothes, no shoes, grime and blood, dazed fury. When his cool, pale gaze reaches Aemond’s empty eye socket, Viserys flinches and looks away.

“So you lost another prosthetic,” is all he says. His face twists into a grimace. And you expect Aemond to do something, to jab back, but he doesn’t. He’s frozen, he’s paralyzed. His right eye is misty. He’s biting his lips so they don’t tremble. And suddenly you hate Viserys Targaryen, you hate him more than you can imagine hating anyone. You think that you could watch his entrails unspooled from his body without feeling a thing. The Targaryen family patriarch hasn’t spoken to you; you don’t register to him at all. You might as well be an oriental vase or a house plant.

“You’re the one who did it, Viserys,” Aegon says, stepping in front of Aemond seething and sharp like a blade. “You remember that part? I do. I remember. The North Sea, 1968. I remember him trotting around after you, always so desperate to prove himself, always doing anything you asked, anything you could dream up, worshipping you like you were God. And where were you when he was getting his eye socket debrided at Moorfields Hospital? In fact, where were you when he got his hands caught in a winch when he was eleven? Where were you when he fell off a pipe deck and broke six ribs because one of your idiot employees forgot to close a safety gate and he couldn’t see it? Where were you then? Where are you now?”

Viserys scowls down at him—revolted, repelled—but he doesn’t reply. He feels no instinct to defend himself. He is unable to internalize shame; it rolls off him like raindrops.

“You’d love me so much if I was dead,” Aegon says, grinning, baring his teeth like an animal. “How sick is that? You can love bones in a box, but not someone standing right in front of you. You love Aemma, a ghost. You love Baelon, and you never even knew him. You’ve got nothing for me. That’s fine, I don’t care, I’ll be alright without you.” He points to Aemond. “But you’ve got nothing for him either, and he’s everything you always wanted. You’re disgusting, you’re broken. You belong in a box too. The part of you that was human is gone. I don’t give a fuck about what’s left.”

Aegon shoves Viserys, hard, and then storms past him. As he crosses into the kitchen, Helaena grabs for his wrist. You can hear her whisper: “What the hell happened?!”

Then Aegon remembers one last thing. He whirls around and bellows at Viserys, his voice reverberating off the vaulted ceilings: “And I’m not getting my vasectomy reversed! You can’t make me! It’s bioethics! I asked the lawyer!” He stomps off and disappears, Helaena in tow.

Alicent shoots Viserys a hateful glare and then flees from the foyer, her long auburn ringlets streaming out behind her. Viserys goes in the opposite direction. Daeron and Otto share an awkward glance and then depart as well. Only you, Criston, and Aemond remain in the room, surrounded by treasures that might as well be handfuls of earth, flour, swamp water, salt.

Cautiously, Criston lays a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, on his right side where he can see it. “Aemond…”

“Don’t touch me,” Aemond says as he wrenches away. He leaves like a hurricane, like a flood, receding until there remains only wreckage and memory.

Criston sighs deeply, and then he asks you: “Do you need a ride home?”

You don’t respond. You haven’t decided how to yet. You stare at the place where Aemond stood, a void like a star that died out. Do I follow him upstairs? you think.

Do I?

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond

[deadboyswalking]

Fic where Zoro, tired of the hot sun on deck and seeking a new place to rest for a while, decides to nap in the corner of Usopp's workshop instead. It's sometimes noisy when he's tinkering with a new invention, but usually pretty quiet as the sniper meticulously works. Really, it's a cozy room and Zoro never has trouble sleeping in there.

After a while, he even starts wandering down there when he isn't sleepy, just bored. Usopp is surprisingly patient as he explains what he's working on, even if Zoro only understands about half of the chemistry involved (though the mathematics are easy enough for him). He's a swordsman, but the process of cleaning and oiling Usopp's weapons is similar enough to how he cares for his swords that the pair of them can easily pass an evening together that way.

Now, the marimo's constant absence on deck starts to annoy Sanji. Just who does he think he is? They haven't had a good fight in weeks and Sanji had never realized how much of his scant free time was spent bickering with Zoro. It's a lonely cup of tea in his kitchen, all by himself, after dinner these days.

One day, Sanji is smoking outside when Zoro and Usopp come up on deck, talking animatedly about something and appearing like just the best buddies in the whole world. In Sanji's opinion, they're walking way too closely together and he needs to stop it.

What Sanji wants to say: "Ugh, you're all over Long Nose like moss clinging to a rock. There are ladies present, you know."

What Sanji means: "You're spending a lot of time with Usopp lately and I feel left out."

What Sanji actually says: "Stop being nice to Usopp."

#zosan

[red-dead-do-over246]

Can I get some javier x reader angst with #214?

Yes! Hope you enjoy!💖

*Angst Warning*

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

There's a Rat Among Us

Javier is extremely loyal to Dutch, and he won't let anything interfere with his boss's grand plan. Not even you.

#214 “I didn’t realize I was such an inconvenience.”

Beaver Hollow was as dark and empty as the gang's morale. People were turning on each other, secrets were being whispered, and lies were being told. After the death of Hosea, Micah had weaseled his way in as Dutch's right-hand man. And Dutch...he had completely turned his back on everyone who he raised. You, John, and even Arthur.

But Dutch still managed to sway the minds of even some of the most level-headed gang members.

Of course, Bill would continue to ignore the truth and stay by Dutch's side, but you were surprised by Javier's actions. He was an extremely loyal man, it was one of the reasons you loved him, but he was becoming a different person. With the way he treated you and others...it made you uneasy.

It was like Javier was becoming paranoid.

"Arthur, what's wrong?" You were busy with your horse outside of camp, finding the company of the four-legged animal to be more appealing than anyone in camp, even Javier at the moment.

"I need to leave." He muttered, voice raspy and ending with a rough-sounding cough. It made your heart break each time you heard him. It was like Arthur was withering away.

"What happened?" You asked. You knew things were shit right now, but Arthur was usually the backbone of the gang. The one who would stand up and persevere if things were to go arwy.

"Sides are being chosen...Micah's gone and convinced Dutch that there's a rat among us...Javier just got done harpin' on me about that. I need some time away from here." Arthur said, all that talking leading him to have a coughing fit. Again, your heart ached for him, but you knew better than to ask if he was alright. Arthur was never one for wanting pity or concern.

But hearing what Javier said to him...it made your blood boil.

"I'm going to go and talk to him." You said angrily. Arthur already knew who you were talking about and nodded, wishing you luck as he went to go and mount his horse. He decided that some fishing might be more peaceful.

Meanwhile, you marched back into camp like you were on the warpath. You've had it up to here with Javier's behavior. The whole camp was silent, each doing their own thing. Micah was whispering something to Dutch, the ladies were keeping to themselves, expect Karen who was drinking again, but there was one thing that would always hurt you whenever you walked back into the camp of Beaver Hollow.

No sound of Javier's singing.

No matter how upset you were right now, the pain that came with his silence would always hurt you. The camp used to always be warmed by his guitar and his singing, and now, it was void of all delightful music. It was like the man you knew really did die back on Guarma, and this is all you have left.

The shell of a man you once loved.

"Javier? Where are you?" You muttered to yourself as you peered around camp, avoiding eye contact with Micah's buddies that decided to make themselves at home. As you moved behind one of the wagons, you caught your lover leaning against a dead tree, smoking.

"What did you say to Arthur?" You cut right to the chase before he could try to swoon you with any of his charming words. But his eyes didn't even soften when he looked at you. He didn't even greet you with one of his pet names that he's given you.

"I said what needed to be said." He responded, tossing his cigarette with force as his full attention was now on you. You hated that you tensed.

"Arthur is no rat! How dare you even accuse him so!" You shouted at him, not even caring that other members of the gang were starting to stare. He narrowed his eyes, a suspicious look on his face as he gazed at you.

"Why do you care so much? Do you love Arthur now?" He accused you, and you scoffed. You couldn't believe that Javier would actually say that to you after all the time that the two of you had spent together. All that time around the fire, the sweet moments that you guys had away from camp, how he would always know how to cheer you up and make you smile, and even more, that night you gave yourself to him for the first time.

Did that mean nothing to him anymore?

So, you slapped him.

"Fuck you Mr. Escuella!" You shouted at him, voice full of rage. Your body was practically shaking as you tried to calm your anger. Your hand stung, but it was nowhere near the pain that was inflicted on Javier's cheek, which he was now clutching, using his other hand to keep him from crashing into the tree.

He was fuming, but he kept himself from cursing at you, even though curses were going through his head a mile a minute.

"You know," Javier waited for the ringing in his ears to die down a bit before speaking up again, removing the hand from his cheek, "with how quickly you defended him, I would say you know who the rat is."

"There is no rat." You seethed at him, but he just crossed his arms, eyes narrowing on you once more.

"I think it's you."

Those words hurt you more than upset you. Even after everything that's just happened, even though your guys' relationship is seemingly crumbling, you never thought that Javier would accuse you of betraying the gang. Not ever.

"I would never betray these people like that." You defended yourself, but he merely shrugged, a redness forming on his cheek from where you slapped him; a painful reminder that you've probably lost him for good now.

"I don't believe you." He simply said.

"Are you calling me a liar?" You asked him, hurt feigning on the tip of your tongue as you tried to sound tough.

"Mentiroso." He said to you in Spanish, and you didn't even need him to translate it to know that he was calling you a liar. Your shoulders shook, but not with anger this time. You could already feel the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

"You know, we don't need this right now. We don't need you. You're just causing problems for everyone, especially me." He told you and your chest heaved as you tried to keep yourself from emotionally breaking.

“I didn’t realize I was such an inconvenience.” You muttered to him, and Javier just looked away from you.

"Dutch needs me strong." Javier said to you, obviously ignoring the sounds of your heart shattering. You didn't even have the strength or anger to hide your heartbreak anymore. He was gone. Javier was gone and replaced by someone else.

"Then you can sleep with him from now on." You growled at him before turning on your heels and leaving.

"Puta." You hear him mumble.

Once you were out of sight and in the safety of your tent, you allowed yourself to cry freely. You hated how pitiful you sounded right now, desperately trying to cover your sobs with your hand as you grabbed your clothes and other belongings. But soon, you couldn't stop the pitiful wails as you packed your things. You were sure that everyone could hear you, but Javier broke your heart, and you accepted the betrayal now.

"Where are we going?" You asked Javier as you held onto him from behind on the back of Boaz. Out of the blue, he had asked you to come with him somewhere.

"It's a surprise." He responded, and you could practically hear the smile on his face. You groaned a bit, causing him to laugh.

"Nearly there, mi amor, I promise." He said, urging the horse to move a bit faster. The sounds of hooves hitting the dirt filled your ears as you watched the sun dip further into the sky. You soon rested your head on Javier's shoulder, dozing off a bit until the horse was finally halted.

"We're here." He announced before sliding off his horse and helping you down. You thanked him with a kiss to the cheek, and looked around.

You noticed that you guys were at a cliff that overlooked the Grizzlies and the sun that was starting to set. It was a bit chilly as the wind blew and you soon noticed that someone (a certain outlaw perhaps) had already been here as a blanket was lain there. There was also some flowers.

"I noticed that you were sad, querida. I heard you crying in your tent, and I knew that I had to make you smile again." Javier explained to you as he walked by you, grabbing your hand as the other held his guitar.

"I...I love you." You nearly cried again as your gratefulness came out in the expression of your feelings for him. Javier just chuckled before pulling you down onto the blanket with him, telling you that he loved you back through a tender kiss to your forehead.

"I know how much you love to hear me play, so I brought this with." He said as he settled the guitar in his lap, seeing your eyes light up with pure happiness.

As the evening went on, Javier had discarded his jacket to you once he realized how cold you were. You then cuddled into him as he continued to play, sharing a bottle of whiskey here and there. You were no inconvenience to his songs as you wrapped arms around him and kissed his cheek, letting him know how much happier you felt now.

"Are you truly better, mi amor?" He asked, hoping he did a good job in cheering you up.

"You always know how to make me smile again." You told him as you moved to kiss him properly, your heart swelling with love for him.

You blinked away more tears as you recalled that memory. Last time you were sobbing like this, he had planned something just to cheer you up. Javier took time out of his day just for you. He gave you affection and it was clear to you just how much you meant to him. Now, you knew that it was all gone, which caused another sob to escape your mouth as you covered it pitifully.

You made your decision to leave him and the gang for good.

But little did you know, Javier had heard you sobbing from where he was against that tree on the outskirts of camp. You would never knew this, but he did feel a little guilty about the things he said, but it was too late for regrets. All he could do was push it to the back of his memory and focus on his loyalty to Dutch.

However, when morning came and you were gone, all those regrets he pushed away came back tenfold.

"What did I tell you? Relationships do nothing but make you soft, that's why Y/N left. Too soft." Micah told Javier the next day after discovering your disappearance.

Javier said nothing to him.

"You're stronger now." Micah said in a tone that could be compared to the hissing of a snake as he patted Javier on the shoulder before leaving and going back to Dutch.

Javier soon found the strength to move his feet and enter your tent. The whole place was devoid of any sign of you. All he could think of was you sobbing in here as you most likely packed to flee this place. To flee from him.

The Mexican outlaw then sat on your cot, shoulders heaving as he tried to control his emotions. Not anger, however, but rather sadness. His head found its way into his hands as he gripped at his hair till his knuckles turned white. Soon, sobs could be heard coming from your tent once more.

But it wasn't you.

It was the man you once loved, feeling all the guilt in the world, and wishing he could've lost enough arrogance to sing you one last song.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 #javier escuella #rdr2 javier #javier escuella x reader #javier x reader #javier imagine

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Happy Birthday, Babe

Getting attention on your birthday has never been your thing. You prefer to celebrate with a quiet day to yourself. After a productive morning at the gym, you throw in the towel, and lock eyes with Jeff. He's on his hands and knees, crawling directly towards you...

"What the hell!" you gasp, "Dude get up!"

Jeff is your straight friend from college. The two of you go way back. In fact, he's the one who got you into working out in the first place. You'd even admit that you had a crush on him once. It's hard not to when he keeps himself in such good shape, but he's a classic lady's man. He knows about your sexuality, but he hates talking about it with you.

And now he's doing the most sensual crawl on all fours towards you, the muscles of his back rippling as he stares daggers into your soul. What the hell is he thinking? The entire gym can see him!

"Hey, sir," he pants as he catches his breath below you.

"Jeff, get off the floor. This isn't funny."

"But why, sir? This is how men are supposed to talk to you," he explains, looking genuinely confused.

"Why the hell are you calling me 'sir' Jeff?"

You snort in disbelief. What the hell is any of this supposed to mean? Your old friend has to be pulling a joke on you, but he's not the kind of guy to tease you like this. Something about this feels wrong, but you can't deny that seeing Jeff like this is getting you a hard.

Your phone starts ringing. Reluctantly you turn from Jeff, leaving the man to wait on his knees patiently as you answer the phone. It's your boyfriend Andrew, an ex-superhero. He got kicked out of the League of Heroes for misusing his abilities. You immediately suspect he's the one behind this weird conversation with Jeff.

"Happy birthday, babe!" your boyfriend screams over the line.

"Andrew, what did you do?"

"Why are you acting so mad?" Andrew whines back, "This is my gift for your birthday. Your going to love it! For the next twenty-four hours every man in town will think it's normal to get down and kneel when they talk to you. Hot, right?"

"So everyone's like this? Really?"

You storm past Jeff, abandoning your buddy on his knees in the middle of the gym, and rush outside.

"Yup! What's the point of having reality-altering powers if I can't use them as your birthday gift. And feel free to cause whatever mischief you want! These guys are going to be completely submissive and respectful to you once they drop to their knees."

"Andrew, what am I supposed to do with this?" you shake your head.

"Just remember that everything you command is permanent! Have fun!"

With that, your boyfriend hangs up. You stand in the street for a moment, gathering your thoughts and wondering how you're supposed to "have fun." Then you notice the construction site next door. Those assholes have been blocking the main entrance to the gym with their trucks for weeks, but they haven't made any progress. Every time you've seen them, they've just been lounging around and cracking jokes instead of working.

"Hey you!" you call, stepping up to a worker as he smokes a cigarette by a pile of rubble.

When he turns his attention to you, a haze seemed to fall over his eyes. The burly laborer lowers himself to his knees and gazes up to you.

"Yeah, sir?"

"Right, um... you're not going to smoke anymore. It's unhealthy."

"I'll quit smoking, sir," he replies, throwing the thing in the dirt, and mashing it out with a gloved fist.

"And you need to work faster," you demand awkwardly, "I'm tired of looking at this eye-sore every morning!"

"Yes, sir. We really haven't been taking this job very seriously," he admits, "Let me find the contractor. I'll try and convince him to get everyone to get back to work."

"Just bring them all to me," you command.

"You all will work tirelessly to get this job done as soon as you can. Got it?" you yell to the group of construction workers kneeling in front of you, "Overtime, weekends, anything, I don't care. Get it done!"

"Yes, sir!" the men answer in unison.

You gaze at the small crowd of obedient laborers kneeling at your feet. Andrew's gift has sure made them docile. These guys seemed so rude and harsh before. The women in the gym were definitely scared to cross by alone. It'd be nice if they stayed as nice and complacent as they are now.

"You all are going to be respectful and kind to anyone that passes. Instead of the catcalls and nasty comments, you'll only shout out compliments and words of encouragement. Now, get back to work."

"Yes, sir!" the men once again bark in unison, before jumping up from their knees and scrambling to their posts.

For the first time in weeks, the machinery is actually on and being used. They seem focused on the tasks at hand, which is very different from the lazy and rude men you avoided this morning. It looks like you actually did some good with your boyfriend's gift.

Hopping in your car, you speed downtown until sirens signal for you to pull over.

"Great!" you groan sarcastically.

You watch from your sideview mirror as a handsome man in uniform steps out of the police cruiser. He already has a pen and paper in hand to write you a ticket. He seems awfully excited to reprimand you. Cops like this have always infuriated you.

You don't wait for him to approach. Instead, you jump out of your vehicle and call out to him.

"Hey cop! Hurry up and just get over here!"

The same fog creeps over this man's expression as he hears your call. The officer drops to his knees and crawls across the sidewalk, dragging his neatly ironed pants over the pavement.

"Good morning, sir," he meekly states at your feet, "Um, do you know how fast you were going?"

"No," you scoff, "And I don't frankly care."

The cop clears his throat before saying, "Sir, I'm going to have to give you this ticket."

"No you don't. I don't deserve that."

"Your right, sir," he mumbles in response, " I don't know why I thought you did. Can I be of service in any other way, sir?"

You look at the handsome policeman on his knees. For a second, you consider telling him to strip and bend over. Nothing sounds better than using this arrogant cop to get off, but you hesitate. Andrew may have given you this gift today, but you're not sure you want to abuse it just yet.

"No, just give me an escort to my office. Turn your sirens on."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir," he nods jumping back into his cruiser.

With the blaring sirens and cop car leading your way, you make it to work in record time. Before you dismiss the cop, you step up to his car window and duck your head in.

"If you ever see me out in public again, I want you to approach me and ask if you can give me another police escort. It's the least you can do," you explain.

"I can do that, sir," the officer nods emphatically.

"Oh and, from now on, officer, everyone you pull over is going to irresistibly attractive. It could be an old, fat man, but if he's behind the wheel, you'll fall head over heels. They might just convince you to forget the ticket, but maybe they'll want more. Who knows?"

With a wave of the hand, you send the cop on his way. He won't be able to write tickets for a very long time.

You smile giddily as you turn back to your office building. You may have taken the day off, but your boss is still there. Marching in and up to your company's floor, you find the man yelling at one of your coworkers in the middle of the office.

This is typical behavior for him. He's notorious for being short-tempered, foul-mouthed, and demanding on all his subordinates.

"Boss!"

"Sir," his voice is suddenly quiet as he trembles to his knees.

"Give me a raise. At least triple my salary," you demand.

Your coworkers watch quietly in fascination, but none of them seem all that surprised by your outburst. Andrew really must have made it completely normal for you to speak this way to other men. They all seem to think this is the natural order of things.

"I'd love to, sir, but our budget is maxed out as it is. We just don't have the money," he explains from the floor.

You frown, but then a brilliant idea comes to your head.

"Then trade. I want your salary and benefits, and you can take mine," you explain.

"I can do that, sir," he agrees, "Does that mean you want to take on a more managerial role?"

"Definitely not, old man," you chuckle, "I'll leave that to you. Just give me all the benefits and none of the responsibility. In fact, why don't you pick up the slack in my position. I shouldn't have to come in more than two days a week."

"That makes complete sense, sir," he responds.

"Go ahead and finalize the details," you command, "And give me my first paycheck early. It is my birthday after all."

"Yes, sir. Happy birthday," he smiles before crawling back into his office.

Falling into your chair triumphantly, you think about how your boyfriend has given you quite the best birthday. It's far from over. You have twenty-four hours and you've only spent three. How are you going to spend the rest of the day?

Maybe you should take a few more liberties with the men you are controlling. Andrew did tell you to have fun after all...

#gay hypnosis #mind control #gay mind control #hypno story #reality change

[madelynraemunson]

CALL OUT MY NAME ♛

(Book #2 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club Series)

CEO!bachelor!steve × fem!college grad!reader

MODERN AU • 18+ | BOOK #1 (e.m.)

slight age gap (Steve is 31, reader is 23); reader goes by the nickname "Sweets"

CW: slight age gap relationship, drinking, smoking, gambling, physical altercations, manipulation, abuse (DV, emotional, financial, mental), profanities, eventual smut

*loosely inspired by sara cate’s salacious players club*

Summary: 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄. Steve Harrington has the WORST luck with the ladies. His high school sweetheart left him for another dude, his former fuck buddy is dating his roommate, and his dream girl is a lesbian. King Steve is losing hope. That is until he meets you — a newly graduated university student from Seattle — when your paths cross on a fateful night in Sin City. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas... that is until your risky business trickles over to Hawkins, Indiana, a town your best friend knows of a little too well.

theme song: call out my name by the weeknd

tag list is open 💌✨

Chapter 001: PROLOGUE

word count: 1.7k words

♛

Winter 2024

“WATCH OUT INDIANAPOLIS — you're about to get... absolutely SOAKED!”

The booming voice of a man in Steve’s bedroom stirs him awake.

Letting out a ferocious yawn, The King rubs his eyes free of the annoying crust in the corner of his sockets, flopping around one more time before doing his routine stretch.

“Google,” Steve commands. “Turn off the TV.”

The TV immediately switches off. It’s nothing personal to meteorologist Marcus Bailey, but if Steve ever needed an accurate forecast of Indianapolis, all he would have to do is look outside his penthouse window. And that, after brushing his teeth, is just what he does.

"G'morning Indy,” he sighs happily on his balcony before going back inside.

Steve then makes his way over to the kitchen to fix himself some breakfast.

“Google,” he calls out again. “Open the curtains, please.”

Google replies:

“Opening curtains. Good morning — Steve.”

"Google, what's my schedule looking like today?" "Google, text Dustin." “Google, what is the weather looking like in Nevada?” “Google, turn on my shower tunes.”

The best thing about not living with Eddie Munson anymore, is that Steve can shamelessly sing Amy Winehouse in the shower without being hounded about it.

“We only saaaid GOODBYE, with WORDS!” Steve sings, confidently off-key. “I died a hundred times! You go back to her, and I goooo baaack toooo…”

"Scanning fingerprint...”

an automated voice announces at the entrance of Steve's walk-in closet.

Swish...

The door slides open. Sauntering his way inside, Steve ventures for some slick black athleisure down to the shoes, his usual musky cologne, and some matching sunglasses (despite the gloomy forecast prediction).

Black. 🎶

Steve Harrington is ready for the day.

---

"Google, make reservations for 3 people at Tony's Steakhouse at 7pm please."

All Steve had left to do for the day now was grocery shop. Which was always a hassle. Because sometimes, the store doesn't have the specific brand he's looking for so the shopper has to opt for an alternate version. Or sometimes, the shopper assigned to him that day chooses produce that is nearing its expiration date making every fruit in his bag a mushy mess. It doesn't happen too often, but it sure feels inconvenient as hell when it does. There are worse problems in life though, so Steve really can't complain.

*Ring, ring. Ring, ring*

The very distinct and custom ringtone has Steve bolting across the room to answer the call. One of his best friends was on the other line.

"Yello?" he says into the phone.

"Hey, it's Shy Girl," comes a voice. "Eddie and I are pulling in."

"Pull off to the side. Valet's got it. I'll send you guys up."

A bottle of cabernet sauvignon a la Steve awaits the pair when they make their way over. Consider it a Tony's pre-game.

"GameWorld stock is up 4% today,” Steve's buddy, and owner of Hellfire Gentlemen's Club Eddie Munson announces as the two clink glasses. "I don’t have much faith in it though, figure I’ll get my pie slices from actual grocery stores. Like Meijer.”

“Everyone's always gonna need groceries,” Steve points out. "Definitely. Just don't day trade. Not now."

"Ooh, you hear that, Eds?" Shy Girl nudges him. "You gotta be careful where you put your money."

"I gotta be careful with my money, period," Eddie smirks. "You're a danger to my pockets, angel."

"Oh but you love me," she says.

"Yeah," Eddie gives in, grabbing his lover's dainty digits, trailing his fingers across hers, and rubbing the glistening rock that took up most of her left hand on the distal side. "I sure do."

"I'm just... so proud of us," Steve sappily reflects. "So much has happened over the past two years and we've all come so far."

"Yeah," Shy Girl agrees. "And it's about fucking time we celebrate."

"I agree," Eddie chimes in, raising his glass once again. "This weekend trip is going to be... one for the books."

"Viva Las Vegas," Steve toasts. "Cheers."

"Viva Las Vegas!"

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

Black and red.

They're the two colors that occupy your closet the most. But of course, after graduating from Washington State University (or Wazzu, for short), you expected nothing less.

You could do with some more sequins though, you think to yourself as you pack your bags.

"What do you think of this, Sweets?"

Peering over your shoulder, you see that your best friend, Elle has started festivities early, managing to hold two glasses of champagne in one hand, and six-inch stilletoes in the other.

"Can't take the party out of the girl, that's for damn sure," you respond.

When you left Seattle to attend WSU Pullman, Elle was your only friend in business class. Mainly because the class was predominantly for dudes, but eventually you found out that you two have a lot in common.

Elle is everything you would want in an older sister figure: she is both book smart and wise, she is sexy, and she eats men for breakfast. And, now that she's about to celebrate the launching of her lingerie business (along with her Dirty 30s Era), and you're about to enter your new-grad era, you two are hitting up Las Vegas to go ham together one last time.

It's all so bittersweet. You owe everything to the Warrens, having taken you in when you were a lost undergrad. It also sucked quite a bit not having a support system after graduating high school. You and Elle were all each other has. Which makes this inevitable separation so much more painful.

"Are you sure you're okay with Vegas by the way?" you question. "I know since the split, being surrounded by gorgeous girls 24/7 can kinda be triggering.”

"Don't worry about it, love," she shakes it off. "The past is in the past. This is a new era of me."

Cheers to that. Clinking your airport-pregame champagne glasses with one another, you raise a toast to yourselves, celebrating how far the two of you have come over the past four years.

"To friendship."

"To friendship."

"To being elegant and educated."

"To elegance and education."

"And to being girl-bosses for the rest of our lives."

You giggle as you raise your glass of champagne even higher.

"To being girl-bosses for the rest of our lives," you two take a sip at the same time. "And no matter how near and no matter how far, we're always gonna be besties."

"I love you, Sweets."

"I love you too, Isabelle."

divider from @plum98

🏷️ taglist: @potatobeanpie @xblueriddlex @angietherose @winchester-angel @aactuaaltraash @hugdealer @hazydespair @frostandflamesfanfic @mediocredreams @bl0ssomanddie @corkadymu @eddiesguitarskills @mrsjellymunson @cadence73 @m-chmcl-rmnc @n-slayaaaaa @corrodedcoffincumslut okay i think i tagged everybody

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #joe keery #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #Spotify

[miscfandomgifimagines]

Showering with Lyle (Gym buddy edition) 18+

Someone asked for the shower scenes following my first headcanon for gym buddy Lyle I think it was @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed ? As I said in my first my headcanon, my piece was inspired by @xandy-toady and their works (please go check them out they are awesome). Gif was taken by @deactivated173845 Also I wrote this high so if there’s bad punctuation/ spelling just let me know and I will fix it when I’m sober

Contains mature themes so anyone under 18 DNI

* For as eager as Lyle is to see you naked, when you get to the bathroom he sets you down and lets you undress at your own pace. That doesn’t mean he won’t stare while you do it though

* You were still a bit flustered from being picked up like you weighed nothing (man’s stacked what can I say?). “Can you turn the water on already?” You ask trying to distract him a bit to catch your bearings.

* “Alright, but you gotta tell me if the water temp is okay.” He seems to catch the hint so instead of oogling you he starts to undress himself. He takes a giant hand and turns the knob of the shower to turn it on. Just by the position you know the waters going to be freezing.

* You take off your pants first and spend some time staring at him instead. “You’re going to need to make it warmer than that. I don’t like cold showers.” His tail sways to the side and he adjusts the temperature a bit more, sticking his hand under the water to feel the temp.

* “More” you instruct as you take off your final garments. Lyle shakes his head but turns the water up more. “Greedy are we? No wonder why everyone complains about not having hot water.” He turns his head to see you and his breath catches.

* There you were in front of him with nothing to cover your body from his eyes. It had been a hot minute since he’s seen anyone naked, let alone someone as attractive as you. He knew you were smoking but you hid under baggy clothes most of the time and he was not expecting you to be so fine.

* He turns to face you fully, gesturing his arm towards the shower spray. “Ladies first” he gives you a smirk. It was your turn to gawk at him and you were taken by surprise. To say that he was huge was an understatement, he was *very well-defined*. Without all his clothes in the way, you could see why he flexes in front of the mirror. He was hot as hell.

* From his big biceps all the way to his calves there was so much muscle and all you wanted to do was run your hands over them. Even his dick was huge and you wondered for a minute if you got yourself into trouble by asking him to join you.

* Lyle startled you out of your thoughts, “I don’t know how much longer we’ll have hot water if you keep staring like that.” Your face heats up and you pad your way over to the water, sticking your hand out to check if it was warm enough. Lyle watched you as he leaned casually against the wall.

* He was trying so hard to suppress his lust so he wouldn’t pop a boner and scare you off. He wanted you so bad but could also tell that if he lined you up with his dick it would go past your belly button and then some. He wanted to make sure you had an out if you needed one.

* You step under the water fully and let out a big sigh of relief when the hot water touched your sore back. Lyle sent you a smile as he maneuvered himself under the water too. “Let me know if I’m crowding you alright?” You were at a loss for words with his dick being damn near face level so you just nodded.

* You tilt your head back and let the water run over your scalp as Lyle clears his throat. “I don’t want to rush you, but I want you so bad.” You look up at him and he looks torn and you get your courage back from earlier.

* “Why don’t you come down closer?” You ask, motioning him to kneel down. He does as you ask with no hesitation and he settles in on his knees. He was still taller than you at half his height but it wasn’t a problem for you. In fact, you found it quite hot.

* You grab one of his big hands and guide it toward your body placing it against your waist. You reach for the other one and bring it to your chest, splaying his fingers out to cover as much skin as possible. His hands are calloused but he’s gentle as he runs his hands along your skin. You bring your own hands up to his face and cradle him. His eyes flutter shut and his tail darts around you to wrap around the back of your thighs.

* You reach up to touch his face and remember just how tiny you are compared to him. One hand traces the tiny white dots covering his face and your other hand lands on his pec. His eyes open and he runs his fingers over your nipples, leaning down as he places a kiss on the top of your shoulder. The hand holding your waist goes around you and cups your ass pushing you into him further. Lyle was doing his best to be gentle and went slowly to avoid scaring you off.

* You move closer to him and while he’s distracted you take the chance to give his right nipple a tug with your fingers. Lyle jerks under your hands and you feel a breathy laugh against your neck. “Was that really necessary Short Stack?” You give him a quick peck on the side of his face, “I just wanted to see how you would react is all.” You feign innocence and feel his hand tighten on your ass.

* Lyle nuzzles your shoulder again but this time he opens his mouth and bites down playfully. When you moan and bring your hand up to his cheek he pulls away and whispers smugly “I just wanted to see how you would react.” Before you can sass back he lifts you up and lowers his head slightly to reach your chest. At first, it’s gentle kisses, but then it grows heavy and his hands are everywhere at once. It was honestly a bit over stimulating but you could hardly complain about how good it felt.

* A soft bite around your nipple pulls your attention into focus again as a loud moan leaves your throat. “Damn you make some cute noises.” As an act of retaliation, your hand lifts up and tugs on the tip of his ear which almost causes him to drop you. You think for a second that maybe you hurt him but then you see his mouth lift in the corners with a sly smile. “Is this how you’re going to be for our first? Feisty, I like it.”

* You each trade kisses with each other along with a few pinches and tugs here and there which cause both of you to moan into the other's mouth. At one point after a nice hard tug to his other ear he grinds you down onto his hard cock and you gasp in surprise. “Already? I haven’t even put it in yet” He teases and slides your body against himself again. You send a flustered smack to his forehead and he just laughs and squeezes you tighter in his hands.

* He arranges the both of you so his back is against the wall and straightens his legs out causing you to wind up in the cowgirl position resting above his dick. You don’t know where it comes from but you tell Lyle to give you his Queue and he complies, throwing the braid over the front of his shoulder. You grasp the braid lightly, inching your fingers lower as Lyle pulls your hips down harder into himself.

* You wind up a few inches above the tendrils covered by his braid. You look up and Lyle watches you with hazy eyes, not seeming to care that you were almost touching a major part of his biology. With Lyle still grinding into you, you hold the Queue in one hand and tilt it upward to look at the wiggling mass. You knew the purpose of the tendrils and what would usually happen if connected to another Pandoran species. Out of curiousness, you bring your other hand closer and let the pink limbs wrap around your fingers.

* Lyle’s eyes squeeze shut and his fingers are gripping your sides hard enough to bruise them. His mouth falls open and he lets out something that sounds oddly like a purr. One of his big hands goes up to your face, his thumb resting on your cheek while his other fingers wrap around the back of your head. His eyes open and the way he looks at you sends a shiver down your spine. “Short Stack, whatever you’re doing- keep doing it. Fuck you feel so good.” You gently start rubbing your fingers against the tendrils and Lyle immediately starts purring again with sharp breaths and deep grunts mixed in with it.

* You removed your fingers and position the queue to meet up with your nipple, or at least that’s what you planned to do before someone opens the door. Before you can turn your head to see who it is you just hear a chorus of: “Lyle what is taking- Y/n?!” You knew there were at least three of the other recoms by the mixture of voices you heard. Your hands fly up to cover your chest (even though your back is facing them) and Lyle snaps out of his hazy grinding fast enough to give you whiplash.

* He pulls you tight against his chest, using his large hands to cover most of your naked body, and lets out the loudest hiss you have ever heard. Lyle reaches out to his side and grabs the first bottle he can, chucking it against someone’s face judging by the sound of the impact. “Damn- Okay! Jeez! Sorry!” You hear the door slam shut and feel an immediate sense of relief. Lyle lets you slide away from his chest and makes eye contact with you. “I won’t let any of them bug you about this, they say anything and they’re dead.” You put your hand on his pec, feeling his strong heartbeat under your palm. “Well with the hell of a reaction you had, they might not say anything.” You send a hand up to gently slap his cheek and it breaks him out of his seriousness.

* “You just like hitting me don’t you Short Stack?” He grabs your wrist, tugging it to his mouth where he not so gently bites your forearm. He didn’t bite hard enough to draw blood but there’s definitely a Lyle-sized bite mark staying the night. He grabs his Queue with one hand and holds it up, a smirk on his face. “Now what exactly were you planning to do with this I wonder?“ You act confused “Hmm I can’t seem to remember. What a shame.”

* His confidence falters for a minute and he gets a knot in his stomach. Lyle starts thinking to himself ‘Shit, what if she got weirded out by the hair thing? Damn, I don’t want to-‘ and he’s suddenly shaken out of his thoughts by a warm tingling sensation taking over his whole body. He looks down and sees you holding the Queue to your breast and letting the tentacles wrap themselves around your nipple.

* Yeah, Lyle was *definitely* a tits man. He feels his chest begin to vibrate and realizes that he’s purring again. It was a weird sensation and it made him feel a bit self-conscious, but when he heard your little giggles he didn’t give a damn. He reaches one of his hands down to your pussy and feels around gently for your clit. When you gave a little shiver Lyle realized he found what he was looking for and started rubbing slow circles into it.

* He watches as your mouth falls open and brings his free hand up, resting a large thumb against your lips. You made eye contact as you wrapped your lips around his thumb. Lyle’s tail was swinging wildly back and forth on the ground and he was honestly surprised he could even feel it at all with how much pleasure was shooting through his body. Before this, he never gave a damn about the stupid braid on the back of his head but now? He is sending mental thank yous to every god he can think of. He could feel each individual tendril move around your nipple and it was driving him crazy. The only thing he could remotely compare the sensation to was an orgasm but it was happening all over his spine and he could feel the tingling all the way down to his fingertips.

* Just as he’s about to speak he hears a loud pounding against the door. “Lyle,” He can hear the Colonel on the other side of the door. “I understand you may be busy at the moment but duty calls and I need you out in 5” He lets out a frustrated groan, his ears slanting back. He looks down at you with a frown.

* You were flustered once again, but this time you were also pretty damn horny and you mentally cursed out Quaritch in your head. You gently detach Lyle’s Queue from your skin and let out an exasperated sigh. Lyle follows your actions and gently places you back on your feet. He pushes himself against the wall to stand up while turning off the water. He grabbed each of you a towel and holds yours out to him. “Just so we’re clear, this is so not over.” You put a hand on your hip and say “Yeah no shit, I’m not done with you yet. Let's meet again tonight during lights out.” Lyle nods, “Sounds good to me”

#avatar imagines #avatar wow #avatar way of water #avatar recom #avatar x reader #avatar recom wainfleet #avatar #avatar recom quaritch #avatar recoms #recom lyle wainfleet #lyle wainfleet #lyle wainfleet x reader #na’vi x reader #na’vi wainfleet #na’vi avatar #na’vi #na’vi smut #aliens bring out the kinky me #this is first time writing smut like this #I hope you guys enjoy it #big blue cock warning #matt gerald #matt gerald lyle wainfleet #matt gerald imagines #thinking of adding zdog in the next bit #I want his bbc #Big Blue Cock #reader imagines #this is like the spiciest thing I’ve wrote so far #hoping I do it justice

[two-red-lungs]

Guys how do we feel about perv Eddie 👁 we like him right. Good intentions, but high hormones. Lovably, painfully horny.

Because I was just thinking…

Your ol buddy ol pal Eddie invites you over to his place to study (but mostly to smoke and talk shit about classmates lmaooo) and he excuses himself to hop into the shower real quick and un-stink himself.

Which, obviously, leaves you alone in his room for a decently long amount of time. Long enough that you say, maybe, get bored and start poking around.

Ashtray, gross. Cassettes, dirty clothes, suspicious stain on wall, stack of magazines. You pick a magazine up. Pick up the second one.

You very quickly realize the “Homeowner’s Gazette” and “Seventeen” editions on the top of the pile were a shitty disguise for the actual contents.

Oh my god, it’s dirty mags. And the real ones too, not just the risqué ones. These are the ones you need to go into a different beaded-curtain room to buy.

You plop your butt down on the end of the bed and start reading. Red cheeked, morbidly fascinated.

It’s mostly editions from the “Private” brand, with a few Color Pleasure selections thrown in, too. And the contents of each shiny folio of images is… saucy is too tame a word for it. It’s literally just porn. No nuance, no skirting the subject.

Men with their heads back in enjoyment as women suck them in varying states of undress. Sometimes in similar, coordinated outfits. There’s a tropical themed one. A sailor one. Women spreading their folds for the camera. Lustful trios gripping and grabbing at one another, all thin muscle and permed hair and thatches of public hair.

He looks at these when he’s getting off, you realize. You’re holding the magazines he probably clutches in one hand while he’s jerking with the other, tongue trapped between his teeth and a look of flushed focus on his face that… Jesus, okay, you’re getting carried away.

Mind racing you turn the paper to a double-page spread. The dog ear leading to it is worn, like he’s folded it many times. A favorite. A woman, brazenly busty, coyly resting her hands on the edge of the pool. Resting her large breasts between them. Her lips are shiny cherry-red.

Hmm. You know, she kinda looks like you.

The page crackles. Your eyes narrow. Is that water-warp damage on the page’s print, or is… oh god. Oh god, you should not be holding this, this picture specifically, because that is absolutely Eddie Munson’s cum-

“-Took so long, never know if we’re gonna have hot water or not-“ Eddie had wandered back into the room and you hadn’t even noticed him, in his barefoot and wet-haired glory, rubbing idly at his head with a discolored towel. He freezes in place. Big chocolate eyes going from you, to the magazine. To you, to the magazine. Like he’d crashed.

You lock up, wide-eyed.

He looks at you.

You looks at him.

In a wordless panic he bursts into action, literally snatching the magazine out of your hands and fumbling with the entire pile of them, running through his messy room. Slamming open his narrow closet and just mashing them inside before slamming the door. Bracing his hands on it. Like somehow, magically, putting them all out of sight means you didn’t see them in the first place.

Silence.

“…You weren’t, uh.” He says awkwardly. Even though his wet hair hides most of his face you can glimpse the apple of his cheek and it’s a brilliant pink. “You weren’t supposed to see those.”

“I shouldn’t have been snooping.” Too late for that. Damage done.

His body language makes it seem like he just sort of wants to… slam his head against the closet door a few times. You didn’t blame him. The air has gone from friendly and amicable to incredibly uncomfortable.

You shift your weight. Thinking.

“… So the two guys dressed as sailors going at that lady, was that-“

“You saw the sailors one?!”

Eddie turns a bright cherry tomato red and just like that, you’re back to wanting to laugh.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things s4 #stranger things imagine #my writing #minors dont look

[yourmomsawh0r3]

BURLESQUE

Javier Peña x F!reader

Summary: After chasing Pablo Escobar in Columbia, a new beginning in New York Javier stumbles into a burlesque lounge

Warnings: 18+, cigarettes

Javier and steve walk out of his apartment, pulling their jacket tighter to keep warm. walking down the streets of Manhattan, observing the busy night life of new york.

looking up at the bright sign "Burlesque? what is this place like a strip club?" he says

who knows what his buddy steve has up his sleeve. "come on man, you're gonna love it." steve says walking into the building

paying the entrance fee, the guys look around for a place to sit

finding a seat in the middle of the lounge, Javier's eyes wander all around the room

the lights on the stage come on, and the array of women on the stage dressed up in lingerie costumes

tugging on your hat "It's a cold and crazy world that's raging outside. Well, baby, me and all my girls are bringing on the fire. Show a little leg, got to shimmy your chest. It's a life, it's a style, it's a need, it's burlesque." y/n sings

throwing your head back and slowly moving your hand down your body

Javier can feel the hairs on his arm stand up

fuck she is gorgeous he thinks

girls start climbing through the faux mirrors on the stage

y/n throws her leg around the chair and starts snapping her fingers

"E-X-P-R-E-S-S, Love, sex, ladies, no regrets" looking into the crowd

y/n eyes land right on Javier

he was hypnotized by you

y/n sways her body around the chair

Javier felt his jeans tighten just at the sight of her

"I tease 'em 'til they're on the edge, they scream and moan for more and more they beg. I know it's me they come to see My pleasure brings them to their knees" You belt

steve looks over at javier, he has never seen his friend so mesmerized before, following his eyes

his eyes land on you and he chuckles

slapping Javier on the chest "seems like somebody has a crush" he says

"shut up pendejo" he says befroe he knew it the show was over.

he watches you wink at him and seductively walk away off stage

javier walks outside to catch his breathe, he didnt even realize he was holding

pulling out a cigarette of the pack he hears the voice of an angel

"hey, can i catch a light" you say putting your cigarette in your mouth

"of course muñeca" he lights your cigarette along with his

"you were great up there, I've never seen anyone perform like that," he says

"i'm glad i caught your attention" you smirk taking a step forward

javier secretly sniffed your perfume as you took a step toward him

and god did you smell like heaven.

"didnt catch your name baby" javier says

"y/n. and what about you stranger?" you say

"javier." he says while catching your gaze

"sexy name for a sexy man." you smile

"and to think you couldn't be any more breathtaking" he says

you blush, leaning up against the wall

"thanks for the light" you say turning on your heels to head back inside

finishing his cigarette, he throws it on the ground and smooshes it with the bottom of his shoe

"WAIT," he says grabbing your arm

you turn and look at him

"i'd like to take you out some time, can i get your number ?" he says

reluctantly giving in and telling him your phone number

"i'll be waiting on your call javier" you say seductively walking back inside to finish the rest of your shift

he shook his head trying to wipe the shit eating grin on his face just as steve walks outside

"hey man i was wondering where you went" he says

javier notices his friends presence, "oh yeah man, i was just taking a smoke break"

"i have an early flight back home tomorrow, is it cool if we head back to your place?" steve says

patting his back, Javier nodes and starts walking back to his apartment

walking into his apartment, the guys say their goodnights and go their separate ways

javier steps into his bathroom, stripping his clothes

stepping into his shower, he lets the hot water hit his skin

sighing in frustration, his cock hardens at the thought of you on stage in that tiny little outfit

rubbing his tip he groans

throwing his head back he starts pumping harder thinking of what you would sound like under him, moaning his name and looking up at him with those plump lips

that mouth, oh the things that your mouth would do to him

he pumps harder placing his other hand on the wall in front of him trying to balance himself

he spills his seed all over the shower floor

groaning with sadness that it was just him alone in the shower

you were going to drive him wild. he thought

LIKE if you want to make this a series

the video below is the burlesque performance

#pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #joelmiller x reader #oberyn martell #pedrohub #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena x reader #Youtube

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Canadian Miracle

"The Canadian Miracle" is a short story published today by @tordotcom; it's set in the world of The Lost Cause, my forthcoming @torbooks novel.

I'm serializing it on my podcast! Here's part one.

Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.

— Fred Rogers (1986)

It’s a treat to beat your feet on the Mississippi Mud.

— Bing Crosby (1927)

I arrived in Oxford with the first wave of Blue Helmets, choppered in along with our gear, touching down on a hospital roof, both so that our doctors and nurses could get straight to work, and because it was one of the few buildings left with a helipad and backup generators and its own water filtration.

Humping my bag down the stairs to the waterlogged ground levels was a nightmare, even by Calgary standards. People lay on the stairs, sick and injured, and navigating them without stepping on them was like an endless nightmare of near-falls and weak moans from people too weak to curse me. I met a nurse halfway down and she took my bag from me and set it down on the landing and gave me a warm hug. “Welcome,” she said, and looked deep into my eyes. We were both young and both women but she was Black and American and I was white and Canadian. I came from a country where, for the first time in a hundred years, there was a generation that wasn’t terrified of the future. She came from a country where everybody knew they had no future.

I hugged her back and she told me my lips were cracked and ordered me to drink water and watched me do it. “This lady’s with the Canadians. They came to help,” she said to her patients on the stairs. Some of them smiled and murmured at me. Others just stared at the backs of their eyelids, reliving their traumas or tracing the contours of their pain.

“I’m Alisha,” I said.

“Elnora,” she said. She was taller than me and had to bend a little to whisper in my ear. “You take care of yourself, okay? You go out there trying to help everyone who needs it, you’re going to need help, too. I’ve seen it.”

“I’ve seen it, too,” I said. “Thank you. I hope you don’t mind if I give you the same advice.”

She made a comical angry face and then smiled. She looked exhausted. “That’s all right, I probably need to hear it.”

My fellow Blue Helmets had been squeezing past us, trudging down the staircase with their own bags. I shouldered mine and joined them. Elnora waved at me as I left, then bent to her next patient.

I stepped out into the wet, heavy air of the Mississippi afternoon, the languid breeze scented with sewage, rot, and smoke. My clothes were immediately saturated with water sucked out of the ambient humidity, and I could feel myself pitting out. Squinting, fumbling for my sunglasses, it took me a moment to spot the group of angry men standing by the hospital entrance. Red hats, open-carry AR-15s. It was the local Maga Club. On closer inspection, a few of them were women, and while they skewed older, there was a smattering of young adults, and, heartbreakingly, a good number of small kids, holding signs demanding foreign agitators out of mississippi!

Bekka, a Cree woman from Saskatchewan who’d been my seat buddy on the helicopter ride, leaned in. “Straight outta central casting.”

At first, I thought she was right. Weather-beaten, white, unhealthy in that way poor Americans are, lacking access to basic preventative care. They looked so angry. Plus, the guns. But there was something else there, and I couldn’t put my finger on it until I spotted a sign being held aloft by a heavyset, middle-aged guy with wraparound shades and a sweat-sheened face: our lives matter too.

I knew he meant it in a gross way, but I couldn’t argue with it.

Read the rest on Tor.com, or listen to it on my podcast!

#clifi #the lost cause #science fiction #short stories #hopepunk #preapocalyptic fiction #climate

[phantom-dc]

Dad Hood - part 6

‘Here?’

‘No! It needs to be a little higher! Right there!’

Following Danny’s instructions, Jason glued the glow-in-the-dark star on the ceiling. Stepping of the chair, he sat down next to Danny on his new bed.

‘How’s that kiddo?’

Danny jumped on the Martian Manhunter themed blankets.

‘It’s perfect! It’s the big Dipper!’

Sitting down on Jason’s lap, Danny started pointing out which constellations Jason had put up. Jason had to ask Kori for a space rock or something if this got Danny so happy.

‘I had stars like that in my old room! But they weren’t in the proper place, so this is better! Thank you Jason!’ said Danny happily. Jason wondered how much Danny remembered.

‘Hey Danny? What was your old home like?’ Danny put on a thinking face, which was absolutely adorable. Danny remembers a lab.

Jason is concerned: ‘A lab?’

‘Yeah! And lot’s of green goop in jars and stuff!’

Jason is worried. That sounds like Lazarus water. He tries to get more information:

‘Green goop? That sounds scary!’

Danny cuts him off. ‘Yeah! It was haunted!’

Jason is surprised. Haunted? He thinks for a bit. With how Lazarus Pits work, thinking the place was haunted was probably how his little kid mind coped with seeing people being brought back from the dead. It must’ve been a scary thing for a kid to see. He asks more.

‘Do you remember something else? Like the people that worked there?’

Danny says he does.

‘A big man, really big and strong! He wore orange! And there was a lady, she was really good at fighting! They made me!’

Jason ruffles Danny’s head. ‘Did they now?’

Inside he is comparing the description to people he knows. The lady who is good at fighting must be Talia. But the strong man in orange, could It be Slade? He is quite tall and his uniform does have orange in it. It would also confirm his Respawn 2.0 theory. Danny says he also remembers a girl, who wanted to talk his feelings al the time. He liked her. Jason thinks she must’ve been his therapist. The last Respawn was filled with resentment towards Damian, so maybe they were trying to prevent that for their second attempt. Jason starts to wonder if there are more.

‘Hey Danny, did you ever see other kids like you in the lab? Like, kids that looked like you?’

Danny says he did, but that was a different lab.

‘They all melted into goop. It was really scary. Do I have to talk about that?’

Jason can see that the conversation is starting to affect Danny. He decided it’s enough, at least for today. He now knows that Danny was made in a lab, by 2 people that match Talia’s and Slade’s description. They made more attempts, possibly at a different location, but those attempts failed. He is glad Danny is the only clone he needs to worry about, but he still doesn’t know how Danny got here. Picking Danny up, he asks if the boy wants a snack. After hearing Danny’s joy, he figures he will continue his investigation tomorrow.

The next day, Jason is gearing up for patrol. Even with Bill and Sandra taking care of things, he needs to checkup some things himself. He can’t tell Bill to jump from building to building and stop a mugging after all. Jason was pretty sure the guy missed a few bones, and that would certainly break the ones he still had.

As he puts his guns in his holster, he suddenly hears a BANG! Grabbing the gun, he runs to the living room. There he sees that one of his paintings and the wall around it are scorched. He looks for the source, and finds Danny, with a hand that emits green smoke. Danny just looks at him.

‘There was a roach!’

Jason sighs.

‘So you can shoot fire?’

Danny shakes his head. ‘Nope! I shot a laser!’

Jason puts his gun back. ‘Of course you did. I didn’t know you could shoot lasers out of your hands?’

Danny gets excited. ‘Yeah! I can also shoot them out of my eyes! Once, I shot one out of my butt!’

Jason grits his teeth. ‘Great! One second, buddy!’

He picks up a pillow and screams in it. Of course the kid can shoot lasers! Why not? Danny laughs. Jason is being silly! Jason puts the pillow down.

‘Actually, screaming in a pillow is a great way of getting rid of big feelings. You should try it if you need it.’

Danny giggles. ‘If I scream loud like that it would flatten a building! Wanna see?’ He asks innocently.

‘NO!’ yells Jason immediately.

‘I believe you! But we like this city and we don’t want to destroy, right?’

Danny apologizes and agrees. He won’t scream. Jason sighs again and gets his black notebook back out. He writes down what he has so far:

Accelerated healing

Invisibility

Cryokinesis

Flight

Soul-pulling-out-powers???

Destructive scream

Lasers

Jason thinks the list is quite long. Looking again at Danny he suspects he hasn’t even seen most of them. Putting the book back, he puts Danny to bed.

‘Ok buddy, now remember our promise?’

Danny nods: ‘Try to sleep, and if you can’t only make snow in the bathroom, no touching the weapons, don’t eat too much candy and if you really can’t sleep, watch tv and fall asleep on the couch!’

Jason ruffles his head. ‘Good boy.’

Jason leaves. He knows the rules are probably lacking, but a kid that can do what Danny can is helped more with gentle guidance that strict rules. Jumping out of the window and landing on the roof, Jason starts his patrol.

It’s been a few hours, and Jason is taking a break. He’s on the edge of Crime alley, the border of his territory. Suddenly he hears a voice next to him.

‘Hey, I need your help.’

Recognizing the voice, Jason looks up. Red Robin is coming over. Jason is surprised that he isn’t feeling that pang of anger that he usually felt around him. Guess that scrub really did the trick. He’ll bring Danny a treat on the way home.

‘Earth to Red Hood? C’mon, I’m desperate here!’

Tim is waving his hand. Jason rolls his eyes.

‘What do you need, RR? You don’t normally come to me for help.’

Tim gets a determined look, saying that’s exactly why he is here. Jason knows that Tim will only come to Jason for emergencies, which means…

‘Please let me stash my coffee at your place! Alfred cut me off and I can’t lose my last stash!’

There it is. Only coffee will convince Tim to go to Jason. No way he would risk Jason’s demands otherwise. Speaking off, Jason wonders what he can ask of Tim in return. Tim gets desperate.

‘Let me hide my coffee, or I’ll.. I’ll… I’ll throw all your books out of the Manor library!’

Jason knew those threat were empty, but it did give him an idea. His mind went to the black notebook in his pocket, and the ever growing list of powers. If he can figure out which people Danny was made from, he might get a list of powers he could anticipate.

‘Ok, RR. You can stash your coffee in the safehouse near the Bowery. But in return you’ll help me with my case.’

Tim asks him what he needs. Tomorrow Jason will bring him a DNA sample. He needs Tim to figure out who it’s from. He warns Tim that he is suspecting a second Respawn, so multiple people might pop up. When they part ways, Jason is hopeful. He might just get a handle on this situation.

First - Previous - Next - AO3

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #dc x dp #batman #red hood #jason todd #dad jason #dad hood

[newtabfics]

Korok Hunting. Just a fun fic

Summary: I guess Korok torture is the only trigger I can think of but tldr the things you've been seeing on Tiktok of people just LAUNCHING them. This is that fic with Link and Reader being chaotic. This is their story.

Also, it is most definitely inspired by THIS video I saw on Twt.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"I hear it. I hear it, but Link," Y/N said, resting her hand on his shoulder. He blinked at the woman as he tried to think of a good build to help transport the exhausted Korok. What wild idea did she have? When she whispered, "The rockets," at him, he immediately understood just what kind of friend he had.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Are you sure this'll work, Rocket Lady?" The Korok asked, still slumped on its backpack.

"Yeah! Totally even!" She said, adjusting the rocket as Link attached them.

They both stepped back, examing the work. They effectively attached 10 rockets to this Korok who was starting to sweat.

"Think it needs more?" Link asked softly.

"Maybe? I mean, they get good distance as is and like, only last a short while." She made a shade over her eyes with her hand as she eyed where the smoke was coming from. "We have to aim him."

Link shook his head as he made the adjustments.

The Korok gulped thickly, praying to the Great Deku Tree as he hoped his friend wouldn't see him being blasted by whatever contraptions these Hylians just strapped to him.

"You ready, buddy?" Y/N asked with a grin as Link picked up a stick. "Remember Link. All in the hips."

The Korok glanced over to see Link gearing up for the swing before it yelled, "Wait! I can walk! I can walk!"

"Too late!" Y/N beamed as Link's stick smacked against the rocket, kicking them all on.

With a blink, the Korok was launched.

The Korok was suddenly grateful it wasn't a flesh bag as he flew quickly toward the smoke signal. Quickly, his friend came into view.

A loud noise was heard from the rockets and they suddenly disappeared, launching him into his friend's tent. The Korok bounced out and lay on the ground, panting.

"My friend!"

"My dear friend, Hylians are insane."

The Korok blinked at his friend as he lay on the ground before looking at the two Hylians cheering from the hill his friend had come from.

"And yet, they're perfect to help us. Remember when Hestu almost fell off a cliff cuz he forgot how to do magic? We used ours to make a bouncy lilypad in the water and he got stuck in the tree."

"This is nothing like that."

"That was awesome!" Y/N cheered as they ran up. "Little buddy, that was so cool! You launched so fast!"

'He could've died," Link muttered as he tried to keep a stoic face. His grin and excitement were apparent.

"But he didn't! Aha! That was awesome. Okay! What if we attach him to a little glider? Like the ones you got from the capsule things and-and-and rockets!" Y/N smiled and swooned. "Actually, strap me too. Cuz that sounds like a lot of fun."

"No," Link said as the Korok waddled over to him to gift him the seeds.

#humor fic #totk fics #korok launch #link x fem!reader #but not really #just some y/n and link being besties #and being gremlins together

[octuscle]

Twinkiest Twink

I was invited to a Ko-Fi yesterday by a colleague. And we discussed your case:

The colleague convinced me that my personal taste should not matter. So sweetheart, your wish is my command. All I had to do was give my supervisor a blowjob. That's all it took to get the authorization code…. He didn't even ask what I wanted it for. But between us: I blow like the devil. All the more to satisfy you…

And you are sure that we should start the transformation now? Honey, to reverse the process, I need a code again. And I can't promise anything… Okay, at your own risk. The code, by the way, is 123twink456.

You're sitting in the diner with your buddies having an after-work beer. The lads are talking about football. Suddenly, you say in a fispy voice, "Did you see the quarterback's butt? Oh my Gaaaaaaaawd! He's really tight!" Your pals look at you uncomprehendingly. You take a sip of your beer, burp and say in a normal tone of voice that he could fuck you anytime. The evening becomes increasingly boring. Football, cars, fishing… All topics that don't interest you. You order another Cosmopolitan and start drumming with your fingernails on the tabletop. You're freshly manicured. Your nails are painted taupe. French manicure. Your pals ignore you completely. Every now and then Pete, who is sitting next to you, strokes the inside of your thigh. Pete is a dirty hillbilly. But he is also so sweeeet! You get a hard-on. A puny boner. Hard maybe just 4 inches. But that is also good. So even with a boner you can share the silky underwear with your bestie. Your butt may be bigger. But in the waist you are both almost identical.

Even if you have a hard-on, you have to pee. Maybe that was one too many Cosmopolitans. You sway a bit when you get up and giggle on your way to the toilet. Since you pee sitting down anyway, you go straight to the ladies. There's more chance of gossip there anyway. Unfortunately, there are no gossips today. Too bad! In front of the mirror, you correct your hair after peeing. The platinum blond has turned out great. Sugar from the beauty salon in the next town is simply an artist. Old Sam from the barbershop here would refuse to bleach a man's hair.

By the time you get back from the bathroom, your pals are pretty drunk. It's time for you to go. Not long now, and they will make dirty jokes about you. That's okay, you know it, but today you feel more like sitting in front of the make-up mirror at home and plucking your eyebrows. You say goodbye and make your way to your little car. You love your pink MX-5. It's not the newest anymore. But usually reliable. But today it just won't start. And you don't understand why. One of your pals is standing by a tree smoking and pissing. You ask him if he can help you. He looks into the car for a moment and says that maybe you should set the transmission to "D". You are really stupid. But you just don't understand anything about technology. Giggle.

The eyebrows are perfect. You've taken off your makeup. Time for bed. Shoot a quick selfie and post it with the comment, "Sweet dreams, sweethearts." A good night's rest to you, too.

#male tf #reality change #male transformation #chronivac #twink tf

[bellebridgerton]

Best Buddies: Chapter 1 (Modern Benedict Bridgerton x plus size!fem!reader)

✨Masterlist✨

Y/n walked into the Number Five, she laughed as Hyacinth and Gregory circled her, "Hello loves, what's up?"

The two started talking over each other, trying to tell her about their day.

Benedict leaned in the doorway of the drawing room, "Ah, now you've got them going." He smirked, admiring his best friend and how well she handled his younger siblings.

Y/n smiled, "That all sounds lovely, we'll talk later, okay? Benedict asked me to come over, my loves."

Hyacinth and Gregory nodded and ran off to play.

Yn turned back to Benedict, "So what do you need help with?"

Benedict raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, "Am I not allowed to simply enjoy your company?"

Y/n walked closer to Benedict and put her hand over his crossed arms, "Of course you can, but I sense you need something more from me than just my company, Benny."

"Oh, you know I don't like that nickname!," Benedict whined.

This made Y/n giggle, "It's never going away, it's been the same for the last ten years. Year nine art class, and the rest is history, my dear Benny." She gave him her best smile and he couldn't help but fold.

Benedict kissed her head, "You know me too well, love. I need a distraction, I'm wracking my brain waiting on a score for a very important exam." Thing is, despite how well she knew him, he had one very big secret. She's his love.

Y/n nodded, understanding, "Then you've called the right lady! What did you have in mind? Movie and take out? Games? Smoke sesh?" She looked up at him like he hung the moon, because to her, he did.

Benedict gently took her hands in his, "Dealer's choice, love." He'd do whatever she wants to.

Y/n gently squeezed his hands, "How about we smoke, I'll order your favorite take out, and we'll put on a show, just waste the night away. We can worry about the score tomorrow."

Benedict grinned and wrapped her up in his arms, "You are amazing!"

Laughing and enjoying the moment, Y/n hugged Benedict back, "Thank you, Benny." She looked up at Benedict, "I love your family, I really, really do, but can we do this in your bedroom or our flat?"

Benedict rubbed his hand up and down her back, "Our flat sounds perfect, love." He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

Y/n squealed and lightly, playfully beat on his back, "Benny! Put me down!"

Benedict placed Y/n in the passenger seat of his car and fastening her seatbelt for her, "There you are, love."

Y/n blushed a bit and raised an eyebrow at Benedict, "I'm a big girl, I can buckle myself in."

Benedict just chuckled, slipping into the driver's seat, "Even so, I just did it, so deal with it." He starts the drive to his flat, "What kind of movie do you have in mind?"

Gently poking his cheek, Y/n smiled, "I was thinking either something scary or something funny."

Benedict thought for a moment, "What about a rom-com?"

Y/n groaned, "You know I don't like those, I know it's your night, but please no rom-coms, Benny."

"Fine, fine, how about a horror movie and a romance movie?," Benedict replied as he parked in the parking garage.

As she was undoing her seatbelt, Y/n nodded, "Sounds perfect to me."

Benedict rushed around to open her door for her, they may have loved to tease each other, but he was a gentleman regardless. He took her hand to help her out of the car. Y/n accepted his hand, "Thank you, Benny."

Benedict wrapped his arm around her waist and walked with her to their shared flat, "Will I ever hear the end of that nickname?"

"Nope!," Y/n patted his chest a few times with her hand, "We'll be old and grey before I even think of not using your nickname sometimes."

~

Benedict unlocked the front door to their flat, "You're so lucky I love you."

Y/n walked in before Benedict, "I love you too, Benny." He groaned, but didn't feel it was worth the bickering for the moment. Y/n smiled, "What are you in the mood to have for dinner?" She made her way to his bedroom, opening his dresser drawers and finding some short shorts and an old shirt. She loved that she could somehow fit his more relaxed clothes.

Benedict leaned in the doorway of his bedroom, "I have been craving Chinese all week."

Y/n whirled around and looked at Benedict, "You don't get to watch me change, you cheeky man!"

Benedict held his hands up in surrender, "You left the door open, love. I will close the door on my way out." He sat on his bed and watched for her next move.

She narrowed her eyes at Benedict, "Out! This is not a free show, Benny!"

Benedict whined playfully, "Oh come on! If only for artistic reasons?" Y/n shook her head, pointing towards the door. Benedict sighed, "Well, it was worth a shot!"

A smile cracked on Y/n's face, "Cute, but seriously, Benny, a little privacy please. I'll be all yours for the rest of the night, after I change clothes."

He relented and stood up, making his way out of his bedroom, "Fine, I suppose." He closed the door behind himself and muttered, "All mine for the night, if only."

~

Before finally getting settled into the sofa, Y/n put the boxes of Chinese she ordered for herself and Benedict in the microwave. Benedict rounded the corner of the kitchen island and stood next to her, he held up two forks, "Let's dig in!"

Y/n smiled up at Benedict, "You need to finish your joint first, you said you wanted to get high."

Benedict picked up the small piece that was left of his joint, "Finish it for me?" He gave her his best puppy dog eyes.

She sighed, "I'll take a drag, but I rolled it for you." She grabbed his wrist and guided his hand to her lips. Y/n took a long drag, then leaned in close to Benedict's face, aiming the smoke towards his slightly parted lips, "There, all yours, Benny."

He was in a daze, it was almost as bad as it had been earlier when he watched her lick the paper to seal his joint for him. The way her tongue moved had him weak in the knees, luckily he was sitting down then.

Benedict finished his joint and opened the microwave, "Can we eat now?"

Y/n smiled, "Yes, let's eat!" She helped him bring the bag the boxes were delivered in to the living room. She got comfortable on the sofa and opened the food she got just for her, while handing him his food, and leaving their shared food untouched for the time being.

Benedict found a movie that he had been wanting to see, it was a romantic comedy, but he wasn't about to tell Y/n that. He hoped he could open her mind a bit, Daniel Radcliffe was the leading actor, after all.

Y/n could quickly tell it was a romantic comedy, but she chose not to get on Benedict about it and give this one a chance.

~

The movie was very funny, and the story was sweet, Y/n actually enjoyed it. She lifted her head from Benedict's shoulder and looked at him, "I will admit, I enjoyed that one." The smile that broke out across Benedict's face, she'd do anything to see that smile all the time.

He chuckled, "I'm glad, love. What did you have in mind for a horror movie?"

Y/n shrugged, "Let's see what's available." She flipped through a few before settling on The Barbarian. While she did love horror movies, she had an ulterior motive for picking a horror movie, Benedict held onto her whenever he got scared, how could she pass up the opportunity?

Benedict wasn't a huge fan of horror movies, although they did give him an excuse to hold her closer than usual, but she didn't need to know that.

~

Unveiling his face from Y/n's hair, Benedict watched the end of the movie, his hands still around her waist. Y/n smiled faintly and was gently rubbing his back, "It's almost over, don't worry."

Benedict rested his head on top of her's, "Can we put on something a little more lighthearted?" He made no attempt to release her from his hold.

Y/n grabbed the remote and put on his favorite show, That 70's Show. She relaxed in his hold, slightly craning her neck to meet his eyes, "How are you feeling, Benny?"

He smiled lazily, "Relaxed, happy. Thank you for taking care of me, love. Could you give me a tattoo? You left your home kit in my room last week, by the way."

Y/n laughed, "I knew it! I couldn't find it anywhere! Are you sure you want a tattoo?"

Benedict grinned, he trusted her, as she was a very talented tattoo artist, "Honestly, I'm surprised you never asked me to be your guinea pig when you were learning."

Y/n smiled warmly, "And you would have let me tattoo you then?"

He nodded, "Of course, we always support each other in our endeavors. Could you do something with color? Not too large, on my inner left forearm?"

Y/n shifted in his hold, "I would love to, you get comfortable, I'll get you prepped." She gently left his side and stood up, "Do you want numbing cream?"

Benedict smiled, "I should think I can go without numbing cream, you can certainly withstand tattoos without it," he lightly teased.

Playfully rolling her eyes, Y/n went to grab her kit from his bedroom, she calls, "Just for that, you won't get any numbing cream, Benny!" She came back and cleaned up the coffee table, wiped it down and pulls a short stool over to the sofa. She put on gloves, then gently took Benedict's arm, "I'm going to shave the area, then cleanse it." Benedict nodded in understanding.

~

Y/n put the tattoo gun down and gently wiped down his fresh tattoo, she looked at his face, "You did sit very well, Benny. I'm proud of you!"

Benedict nodded, "Thank you, love. Although, it does feel a bit sore."

Y/n grabbed a black patch from her kit and placed it over Benedict's new tattoo, fastening it with tape, "It'll be fine, your muscles just got repeatedly stabbed, it's going to be sore for a bit." She kissed his cheek softly, "You sat wonderfully for it, thank you, Benny."

He chuckled, "Thank you for doing this for me, love."

She cleaned up her kit and disposed of the needles she used and her gloves, "Any time, friends and family discount. Plus a little practice for me never hurts." She knew he would never abuse the privilege to get free tattoos.

~

Benedict gently carried Y/n to his bedroom since it was closer, using one hand to open the door, then pull back the covers. He placed her in his bed and tucked her in, kissing her forehead, "Sweet dreams, my darling."

Y/n grabbed onto his t-shirt as he was pulling away, "Come to bed, please."

Benedict smiled softly and gently stroked her hair, watching her sleepy face, just barely seeing her irises through her heavy eyelids, "Oh, I was going to take the couch."

She opened her eyes a bit more, "I don't bite, you can also sleep in your bed." She gave him a sleepy smile, how could he ever say no to her?

Benedict gently touched her cheek with his thumb, "Okay, I'll stay." He got up and turned out the light, street lights outlining Y/n's tired form. Benedict climbed into bed on the opposite side of the mattress, opting to keep some space between himself and Y/n. Of course he'd much prefer to have her close, but he couldn't find an excuse to hold her.

Y/n rolled over as she fell back to sleep, her arm resting across his stomach. She cuddled up to Benedict and rested her head on his chest. Benedict gently pulled her closer, rubbing her back and kissing her head, "Goodnight, my love." He felt he could call her that since she was asleep.

✨Next Chapter✨

Tag list: @coolepowersthings @khaylin27 @m-rae23

#benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton