#it’s not nearly as good as it is with dairy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

corruptedcaps · 4 months

Text

Brat App

Ugh why did Mom have to marry the Dad of that bitch Alison?! As if being bullied at school isn’t enough now I have to get it at home too? I guess it’s not all bad though because I was able to hack into Alison’s phone and invite myself onto the exclusive ‘Brat App’ that Alison and her friends are all on. No idea what it is but with any luck I’ll find out some dirt on Alison to get her finally expelled so I can have some peace.

Hmmm this just looks to be some sort of social status game with challenges built on top. Every challenge has a ‘Brat’ value associated with it. So the more challenges a person does the higher up the leaderboard they climb and the higher up the rank. No big shock that Alison is sitting at the top as a level 10! Which gives her the rank of ‘Brat Queen’ which appropriate. By my calculations that would be…. nearly 10,000 points! Wow she must be addicted to this game. Looks like I got 1,000 bonus just for signing up and I can spend it on my little avatar of myself. Let’s see what I can buy. Sure why not, let’s improve her eyesight.…

Holy crap what just happened? My body feels all tingly and different. My glasses are making my eyes blurry. Did… did this app just cure my eyesight? This is unbelievable! What else can it do… more athletic, long nails, thick hair, big boobs, perfect posture. It makes sense now! All these challenges are real life challenges! This is how Alison is the hottest most feared girl in school! Ok new plan, if I raise the ranks of this app, and surpass Alison’s score then she’ll have to listen to me and become nicer. How hard could it be? I’m already at level one after all and these challenges don’t seem that difficult….

Bold makeup. Check. Revealing dress. Check. And that’s net me… let’s see here. 50 points? At this rate I’ll finish college before I have enough points! I need more bigger ticket items. Let me redeem these pathetic points at least. Mmmm nothing changed but it did give me a nice little tingle. Ok for 1000 points I need to… send some nudes?! Absolutely not! Alison hasn’t even done that! For another 1000 I need to suck a married cock? How vile! Ok this is more doable. Spread a vicious rumor about a classmate for 300. I could do that I guess. Hmmm I have to post it directly to the app so it can’t be about Alison or any of her friends. I know, I’ll say something about Lisa the unfortunate overweight girl in our class. She’ll never see it. I’ll say she was banned from Dairy Queen for breaking in and eating their whole stock. And send! Ohhhh somethings happening!

Oh god my tits! They’ve gone up like two sizes! But why? Hmmm looks like I hit some hidden ‘Bitch Bonus’ by doing that challenge. This is amazing and all I had to do was make fun of that whale Lisa. I know it was mean but it feels so fucking good! She’ll be fine it’s not like anyone will believe it anyway. <ding> ohhh that felt nice, what was it? Oh one of Alison’s friends liked my post. <ding> mmmm another one of her friends liked my post! Every like is 10 points and feels so gooood! <ding> oh fuck yesss girls keep liking! It feels so hawt! Maybe I should spread a few more lies…

Mmmm my body feels so much better in these clothes I redeemed! After only a few more rumors I got easily up to level 5, ‘Beta Bitch’, which unlocked my beautiful nails, my gorgeous silky hair, my perfect makeup, and all the knowledge to maintain them. Even my body is better shape, I’m so flexible now! Not to say anything about my lovely big tits! Alison’s friends seemed to really enjoy my wicked little rumours. I can’t deny it wasn’t fun writing them and it was even better getting the likes for them!

But I do feel kind of bad for all those losers I wrote stuff about though, I think the Brat App is effecting not just my body but my mind too. I feel so nasty and mean everytime I use it and even more now in this tight blouse and short skirt. I can’t help if I’m hotter than those dorks now! No that’s the app’s influence talking! I have to stop using the app, but I need to topple Alison! Ugh what do I do? <ding> what’s this? I’ve unlocked a new bonus. ‘Morality Suppression’? Hmmm that would solve my problems I guess and there is an option to turn it off later. Ok I’m going to do it! It’s for the good of the school after all. Here goes…

Ohhhhh fuck yesss that sooo much better. Like hell this is for the good of the school this is for the good of me! I feel so fucking free now. To think I was feeling regret for those pathetic fattys and geeky nerds I was writing about! I only regret not writing more! The only people worth anything are my bratty followers who like my posts and even they need to know their place and they will when I surpass Alison and become the new Queen bee. Oh fuck I feel so horny being this bad! I need some release and quick! Mmmm maybe I can finally tick off some of these challenges old me was too much of a loser to attempt. Mmmm yesss those will raise my rank in no time! Oh I have the perfectly wicked idea that will make me a bratty goddess by the end of the day! Oh step daddy!

Changed? Nonsense step daddy I’ve always looked like this. I’m a spoilt wicked little bitch just like your precious daughter, only you can fuck me. What’s the matter step daddy? Cat got your tongue? I bet you always wanted to fuck your mean little princess didn’t you? But you’re a good man and would never do that would you? But guess what? I’m not your daughter but I’m everything she is and more. Would you like a look under my shirt? Sure you would.

Hehe I see you like it step daddy. The outline of your cock is practically bursting out of your pants. Mmm and it looks so impressive. Let me have a peek <zip> oh step daddy, I can see why mommy married you. You’re so big! It’s making my mouth water. I need to have it step daddy, please say yes! I know you’re still hesitant so maybe it might convince you if I stopped calling you step daddy and instead called you… daddy. Mmm you like that don’t you… daddy? You want to put that big cock in my mouth and have my perfect pink lips suck it don’t you… daddy?

Mmmm thanks daddy for the great fucking, you’ve helped me complete so many nasty challenges. Suck a married cock. Check. Fuck an older man. Check. Call him daddy. Mmmm double check. After everything we got up to I completed over a dozen challenges, more than enough to take you bitch of a daughter’s crown. I just have to redeem the points now and assume the throne…. Mmmm it feels so good but something different is happening… oh fuck something amazing is happening!

Mmmm oh fuck yessss! Look at me, I’m a blonde busty bitch now! Im older and sexier and I feel so fucking nasty and hawt but how is this possible? Oh I see I unlocked a new challenge tree and a new rank. Mmmm ‘Homewrecker’ I love the sound of that! Who needs to be a bratty queen when I could be the wicked bitch that stole her daddy instead. Thats right darling, I’ve levelled up to being your mistress now and if you’re lucky and do as I say soon I’ll unlock ‘Trophy Wife’ and you can spoil me rotten as you should. Don’t worry I’ll still call you daddy, it makes everything feel so much more naughty. My mother? You mean that old crone Emma? She’s not my mother anymore, she not even my rival, she’s just an obstacle to our love, isn’t that right? Mmmm I knew you’d agree…. Daddy.

EPILOGUE

Alison was wondering what her father was doing that was taking so god damn long that he couldn’t have sent a car or something to pick her up from the mall like he promised. She had spent so much on his credit card that she was surrounded by high end boutique bags. Just when she was reaching her finally straw she got a message from him telling her he had sent a friend, some woman by the name of Gabrielle, to pick her up. Alison hadn’t heard of any Gabrielle before, except maybe her new dorky step sister but she went by Gabby anyway.

Following her father’s instructions to Gabrielle, Alison’s mouth was agape when she turned the corner to find a stunning blonde waiting for her. The blonde looked at Alison with distain and made Alison feel insignificant for the first time in her life. She didn’t like it. Gabrielle didn’t let up with her stare down, enjoying the way Alison averted her gaze. Alison meanwhile was grateful that their encounter was going to brief.

“So you’re Ted’s daughter? Hmmm I expected somebody a little more… impressive.” Gabrielle said not willing to hide her distaste. If this was anyone else Alison would have ground them to dust with only a few choice words but she felt so intimidated as she got into the car with the blonde bitch.

So much so that her phone dinged to tell her she lost some Brat points for her weakness. She had never lost points before! Gabrielle smirked to herself as she looked at her own phone and saw her points climb. She couldn’t wait become a wicked step mother.

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #evil couple #power transfer #magic item

382 notes · View notes

evilminji · 6 months

Text

I just remeber a post from a while back ( >.>)

Remember the Dairy King? Ghosts that STAY for one reason or another, instead of moving on? I made a prompt about HAUNTS, but?

What of Haunted Houses? Haunted by what? Themselves. Their People are gone. They lay abandoned. Dead homes. Limnal places. Haunted and alive.

And yes, some of them are angry. Who wouldn't be? They did nothing wrong! Their People are gone, the world strange, and they have known nothing but neglect and suffering. They of course lash out.

Maybe they saw horrors, inside their walls. Abuse they could not stop. Death they could not prevent. Humans are terrible things to them. Painful. Ugly.

But there are also those, we must imagine, who are DESPERATE. Clinging. Covetous. Trapping any unfortunate enough to stumble into them, because they can not bear to be alone again. Ugly cycles of suffering and need.

Not all, of course. There are houses you would never know were Haunted. So comfortable and warm, they just feel like a hug. Blankets ready just where you need them, tables always set for just as many as arrive. If they have gardens, they can even feed you!

The problem? For there always IS some sort of concern.

You can't just... let ANYONE live in these Houses. These manors and castles, huts and homes. In the same way you can't let just ANYONE keep a disable eagle or tiger. And even beyond that? Guess who's voice is still cracking, just got a crown that doesn't fit, and needs to CHECK on these homes?

Because unlike other Ghosts? Most of these ones? Can't run away. They exsist where they exsist. Many in need of careful, patient, therapy and socialization. They're scared. People keep trying to EXSORSIZE them.

It hurts.

They don't understand why people are hurting them.

Why they are punching HOLES in their walls to "renovate" them instead of asking for things.

It HURTS.

And? If we want to do a cross over? I bet you two coffee and a doughnut, Danny meets Constantine and the Bats at one such house, in old Gotham. Where the last of one branch died and when then greedy mofo OTHER branch tried to turn their stately home into a McMansion? They nearly died.

Which, to be fair. Great Aunt Agatha DID warn them. "Leave the house be. She's a good girl."

But of course, things escalate. Building crews are lied too, nearly die. Batman gets involved. Breaks a rib. Now Constantine is staring down a Haunted House, who is very scared and just wants the bad men to go away. Wants her Aggy back.

And all DANNY sees is the equivalent of a terrified cat, cornered by a group of thugs, who is puffed up desperately to make themselves seem Scary(tm), all while those same group of thugs level WEAPONS at that poor creature.

Ghost king FROM THE HIGH BAR! With the FULL BODY FLYING TACKLE!!!

You get away from THAT HOUSE, you magical BASTAAAAARD! *SLAM*

@hypewinter @ailithnight @hdgnj

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #or just DP if you want #haunted houses #are trying their best #they just want to be Good Homes #get a good grade in Being Home #a thing that is reasonal to want and possible to achieve

567 notes · View notes

callme-darling · 15 days

Note

all these ppl in ur asks talking abt Pierre has me tweaking thinking about a continuation of ur rival!pierre fic where he picks a fight w u in front of everyone then goes on to worship u when yall r alone 😵‍💫😵‍💫

the cow prince & the dairy queen (pt.2)

word count: 2.8k

warnings: rivals with benefits dynamic, pierre is a bit of a prick, smut, little plot, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, car sex, mentions of alcohol, pls let me know if i missed anything

a/n: this isn’t really a finished piece, but pls accept these pierre chavanges crumbs🙏🏻 (side note: this is lowkey FILTHY)

you can find pt.1 here

it had been a few weeks since yours and pierre’s fling in the pasture. a part of you was content to leave it as that—a one time act of lust; nothing more, nothing less. you both seemingly went back to your respective work; tending to your own farms with little more than an occasional nod or glare in the others direction depending on the day.

you would have been happy to never speak of it, let alone think of it. it seems, however, your happiness is irrelevant when it comes to circumstance.

fabrice was hosting a small, informal get together for the community. well technically another of his friends put it all together, fabrice simply agreed to host it at his house. and just about everyone in town was invited; including, of course, pierre chavanges.

initially, you were going to decline the invitation, but it was rare to see anyone else these days, and rarer still to be able to talk to them for more than a fleeting passing-by. so you agreed and gave fabrice a kind thanks before hanging up the phone. and now you stand in his yard, mentally kicking yourself to be so naive to think this was a good idea.

all was well for the first half hour or so. you made amiable conversation with some people you knew, some you didn’t, and the plastic cup in your hand was a comforting weight of liquid courage. yes, all was well—until you heard a loud chorus of cheers come from near the house. instantly, you smile fell when you saw whose presence was the cause for the ruckus.

you secretly had hoped he would decline the invitation, much like you almost had. but, also like yourself, he must have felt a keen obligation to his friends to at least make an appearance.

and almost immediately, your eyes met. his eyes narrowed in on you, like a predator singling out the weakest of the herd. you finish your drink and slide into a thicker part of the crowd, hoping to get the pair of lingering eyes off of you.

for nearly an hour you succeeded in avoiding one another. but then, as the party gradually began to taper off and more people began to head for their respective homes, you were drug into fabrice’s kitchen for a ‘final round’ before officially calling it a night.

and to everyone’s surprise, and your dismay, pierre had managed to stick it out too.

everyone was in boisterous conversation while you studied the contents of the cup in your hand, the earthy beer a little musty to your tastes.

“say, y/n-“ you’re pulled from your thoughts by one of the guys, “you’ve been awfully quiet tonight. don’t tell me we’re boring you.”

you force a small laugh at the jest, your eyes briefly glancing around the small room, unsurprised to find pierre looking straight at you. “no, no,” you shake your head, reclining your hips against the counter. “just been a long day.”

“the queen probably finds our conversations below herself.” the guys laugh heartily at pierre’s cheap jab. you just roll your eyes, you and pierre are easily the most sober in the room, so you excuse the others. but your glare finds pierre’s easily.

his tall friend picks up on the animosity quickly despite his inebriation, his eyes glimmering with drunken glee as he points, “ooh c’mon guys. let’s not fight, you’re both equally insufferable when you get like this.”

“i’m perfectly fine. i’m afraid it’s your friend who can’t get off his high horse.”

pierre doesn’t break eye contact as he tilts his head slightly, “she’s right. we should be nice to her majesty. we all know she’s had a rough season, after all.”

“the hell is that supposed to mean, chavanges?” your grip tightens around your cup enough to make the thin material crackle.

everyone else seems to catch the tension in the atmosphere shift from friendly pestering to something more hostile. everyone but pierre, whose lips ever so slightly twitch into a shit eating grin.

“what do you think it sounds like?”

you hold his hard stare for a long moment. ‘it’s not worth it’ you decide. you turn slightly to pour the remnants of your drink into the sink. “it sounds like it’s time for me to excuse myself.”

the boys make sounds of disapproval, some of them throwing their arms up at pierre in a silent complaint of ‘what the hell man?’, but pierre only kept his steely eyes on you, an air of indisputable satisfaction behind his expression.

you’re walking along the dirt road that’ll take you home when a set of yellow headlights illuminate your shadow. you shuffle to the side of the path, nearly standing in the shallow ditch when the vehicle slows to a stop just behind you.

“get in, princess.”

you roll your eyes when the distinct tone of pierre’s voice hits your ears. you ignore him and begin walking in the direction of your house again. a strong gust of wind wips past you. instinctively, your arms wrap around your midsection as you grumble under your breath.

pierre merely inches his truck forward, it’s muddied wheels creeping alongside you. “c’mon, get in the truck. it’s freezing.”

you grit your teeth. “i’d rather take my chances freezing then, thanks”

he chuckles and the sound nearly has you seeing red. “go the fuck home, chavanges.”

it didn’t matter how cold you were, or how nice a ride in the warm truck cab sounded. you were not so desperate to grant him the gratification of doing you a favor, no matter how minuscule.

“christ y/n,” he practically growled in nothing short of annoyance, “get in the fucking truck.”

you stop walking, a huff of warm breath dissipating into the cold air. you stand against the cold wind for a moment longer, feeling his eyes rake over you from behind. then with a resigned sigh, you wordlessly stalk to the passenger side of the truck and pull open the door.

neither of you say a word as you slip into the seat, but you can feel his eyes boring a hole in the side of your head.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you finally say.

you catch the way his tongue prods the inside of his cheek before he starts driving along the quickly darkening road.

“you’re really pissed?” he asks after a long stretch of silence.

you’re looking out the window, forehead resting against the cool glass. “you’re really an asshole?”

“come on now, don’t be like that.”

you chuckle at the audacity of this man, though it comes out more like a scoff. “i take it back. you’re a piece of shit.”

“mm, that’s not what it sounded like when you were moaning my name,” he says flatly. “though, it has been a bit so maybe my memory is getting foggy.” and the pointed look he gave you left you with no need to discern what meaning lurked under the surface.

you held your breath as you leveled his gaze. the tension in the cab was oppressive. it took a good moment for you to realize he had parked his truck in one of the pull-offs. your mouth suddenly felt dry.

“tell me, princess,” you hated how your stomach fluttered at the way he said the nickname you hated so much, “does it make you angry when i do that?”

“you’re going to have to be more specific,” you breathe out. “you do a lot of things that piss me off.” you mentally curse when you catch yourself glimpsing to his lips.

he grins. “do you hate when i call you out, give you a hard time? does it make your blood boil?” he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he’s leaning closer, his eyes sharp as they scan your face. “and does it make you angrier knowing that the guy who gets you so riled up is the same guy you let fuck you in a field a couple weeks ago?”

you swallow, jaw clenching as you turn to look out your window again. then in a moment of stupid courage, likely fueled by the traces of alcohol still running in your veins, you ask the first question that flashed in your mind.

“is this your way of saying once wasn’t enough for you?”

“yes.”

his reply was quick and void of any hints of deception. your lips parted when his answer shocked your system, instantaneously leaving you at a loss for words.

he gauged your reaction, eyes searching yours. when you say nothing, he sighs, though it’s more blasé than irritated. “you know, you’re real annoying when you go quiet like that. for all the complaining and whining you do, i know you have something in that little head of yours you want to say.” he reaches across the console of the truck to gently grab your chin. “yes or no?”

you didn’t need any further context to know what he was asking. you chew on the inside of your lip, chin titled ever so slightly by his thumb, and nod once.

“that won’t do.” he clicks his tongue and murmurs lowly, “use your words, princess.”

you lean in close, eyes steady on his as you whisper, “you can fuck me, chavanges, but i won’t beg.”

his eyes glinted with an unsaid challenge. the thumb holding your chin brushed over your bottom lip, the featherlight touch submerging your stomach in water. “we’ll see about that.”

when he pressed his lips to yours, you swear your senses completely shut everything else out. his movements were slow, languid, as his lips moved in time with yours. his tongue gently nudged past your lips.

even now, you can tell there’s been a shift since the time in the pasture. pierre was much more deliberate and subdued.

you could feel yourself leaning more into his touch, the top half of your body nearly laying on the center console. his rough hand found your jaw and pulled you even closer with a muffled groan.

you straddled his lap in the cramped truck, your ass threatening to bump against the horn until two hands pulled your hips securely on top of his. “fuck, you’re pretty like this.” the combination of his throaty compliment and his fingers digging into your hips had your breath hitching.

eyes half lidded, you peer down at him. your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you keep your face hovering over his. “what would you do if i just up and left? just got out of this truck of yours and left you here like this.”

pierre have you a cheeky grin, unadulterated confidence gleaming in his eyes. “we both know you wouldn’t.” he leaned close so his lips tickled your ear, “i fuck you too good for you to even consider it.”

“then you better not disappoint, chavanges.”

his grin only grew, grip on your hips moving to cup your ass. “don’t you worry, princess. just let me take care of ya.”

“oh? is the prince feeling chivalrous?”

a hand on your neck has your eyes fluttering as he whispers against your warm skin, “i suggest you be nice.” then his lips were on your throat, tongue teasing the sensitive flesh while his teeth nipped little red marks across your chest.

you fingers are in his hair as he undoubtedly leaves marks that won’t fade for a couple days over your skin. you’ll be irritated tomorrow, but for now you allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of his fleeting touch.

his large hands gave your ass another squeeze, grinding you against his jean-covered, half hard cock. you always hated how your body betrayed you, the way you can feel your pussy practically soaking through your panties and onto his lap.

pierre groans underneath you, his fingers pulling your shirt over your head, his other hand unclasping your bra with a fumbling grasp that only added to the heat of the truck. his lips abandon your neck in favor of your tits. his eyes watched you as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling the sensitive nub under his tongue. his palm groped at your other breast, fingers teasingly pulling at your skin as you whine.

his mouth pulls off you with a minute wet ‘pop’. he grinned up at you, eyes no doubt studying the growing blush on your cheeks. “y’know, you sound prettier like this than when you’re bitchin’.”

you tugged his hair, a warning.

he ignores it. “fuck.. i can’t wait anymore.” it’s embarrassing, how your pussy clenched around nothing at his words. your chest shone with the warmth of his spit as his breath fans across your skin. you shudder as his fingernails skim up your arm and down the front of your collarbone. “gotta feel that little pussy of yours, been too long.”

the transition to you shimmying your worn jeans down your legs was anything but graceful, but pierre didn’t seem to mind as his own hips raised to deftly push his own pants to his thighs. the windows were already beginning to fog over with a sheen of warmth. you both took a moment, chests softly heaving in unison before pierre’s hands rubbed along your ribs and waist, wordlessly soothing the nerves crawling over your skin.

he brought his face closer to yours again, his nose nudging the column of your neck before inhaling. “been thinking about this since that day.”

you’d sooner take yourself out to pasture than admit you’d been the same. you could practically feel his sick twitch beneath the thin material of his boxers, the heat emanating from his body making your mind hazy. you whine despite yourself, pussy clenching around nothing when his finger traces over the elastic band of your panties.

“pierre, don’t tease.” it’s meant to be a warning, but it comes out breathier than needier than you anticipated.

his touch becomes more assertive, borderline experimental, as his thumb dips to the front of your crotch, easily ghosting over your clit while his eyes watch you with a glimmer of piqued enthusiasm. “are you in a rush?”

his warm breath paired with the tentative touches makes your eyes flutter. “i wanna take my time with you, this time.” finally, his long fingers tug the slick material covering your heat to the side. the calloused pads of his fingers tease your wet folds. you flush with a bright heat when the only sound in the truck is the audible wet clicking coming from pierre shamelessly playing with your soaked pussy.

your head falls to pierre’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as your hips twitch to meet his hand. there’s no doubt your bottom lip is gonna be bruised with how you’re biting into it, but it does little to stop the pathetic sounds from reaching his ears.

“fuck..” his low groan sends sparks down your spine. “you’re so fucking wet, i love it…”

as if to emphasize his words, he slips two long fingers into your dripping hole. your hands clutch onto his shoulders, nails pricking through his shirt but god- you were both so pent up at this point, any humiliation only added to the desperation.

pierre’s lips pressed a wet kiss onto your shoulder. the feeling of his fingers slowly dragging in and out of your cunt doubled with the material of your soft panties catching your clit with each shift of his palm, you were made pliant in a matter of minutes.

“god… missed this,” pierre stifles a groan when you clench around his fingers embarrassingly tight, “so much.”

a hand on your throat drags your face to his and his mouth is on you before you fully register his fingers leaving your heat. you’re holding back a whine when he finally frees his dick, blushed an angry red and leaking pre, from his boxers. your eyes are fixated on his cock and it only strokes his ego.

pierre’s breath warms the shell of your ear as he whispers, “you can deny it until you’re blue in the face, but i know you’ve been thinking about how i fuck you everyday since the field.”

you drag your gaze to meet his and even in the darkness of the truck cab, you can see the hunger in his eyes.

his thumb smears the precum from his tip down his shaft as he gives his cock a pump before you lift your hips. your head falls back slightly as you sink down onto his length. you both breathe softly when you finally bottom out, and it takes everything in you not to start bouncing on his lap.

instead, you bite back a small moan and give the man beneath you a heady glare, “you better not fall for me, chavanges.”

he returns it with a toothy grin, mouth already coming to hover over yours. “i definitely won’t fall for you. i just love to hate you.”

#ꕤ ₊˚✧ mailbox .#♱₊˚✧ filth .#swann arlaud #bloody milk #petit paysan #swann arlaud smut #pierre chavanges

84 notes · View notes

saint-siren · 11 months

Text

thoroughbred. | pt. ii: spring

summary: Levi’s precious genetic material can’t be wasted even when it can’t go inside you.

warnings: nsfw annnnndddd, I don’t think anything else that wasn’t in the first part?

contains: masturbating, a fleshlight essentially, Levi’s… ‘genetic material’ being collected, vaginal sex, breeding, Levi really wants to get you pregnant, hange is a pervert

author’s note: surprisingly, Levi’s cum being collected via a weird machine has been on my mind the past few days.

part i

The next afternoon was your second meeting. Neither of you had been able to stop thinking about each other or the awkwardness of your situation. Still, somehow you were able to get back to the task at hand.

He had you bent over the edge of the bed, fully undressed while he was mostly clothed, his typical neat clothing wrinkled and half unbuttoned. It was shameful how turned on you were, in the same place you’d been prodded at like a dairy cow, in the same position no less. But even so, you could hear the slick sounds of Levi sliding in and out of you. This time, he’d tasted you, working you up to a breathless edge before he slipped his tongue out of you and waited for you to relax before he worked you up again.

You were glad you could bury your face into the sheets, you didn’t want to know what seeing his face as he watched you take his cock would do to you— what kind of lasting embarrassment it would inspire. Levi had his hand curled around your throat, not yet squeezing but still holding you firmly. You were grateful to feel his warm, calloused hand on your skin, it was a little sentimental but it made you feel a bit more reassured. You could trust those hands, you could trust him with your body. Levi was making such pretty sounds from behind you, cursing when your cunt hugged his cock or when you throbbed around him and left him feeling dizzy. Your cunt steals the air from his lungs with each squeeze.

What if this was the time that did it? What if he got you pregnant right then? The thought was unreasonably appealing to you at the moment. Why hadn’t you imagined that it could feel this good? Each thrust pushed you forward on the bed, slightly. The rub of the sheets against your nipples, already carefully teased and made hard, was maddening. How would it be if you were pregnant? Would he like to see the soft curve of your stomach? The swell of your breasts?

Levi’s thoughts ran parallel to yours, the purpose of the two of you being like this could never escape him fully. He just couldn’t help imagining your belly swelling with the proof, the image of spilling all his cum inside you where it belongs was nearly overwhelming. He wanted it so badly, it disgusted even him. He felt like he was looking at you the same as your higher ups did, as just something to breed for the benefit of others and he hated himself for that. Still, it didn’t stop him from nearly spilling over at the very thought of getting you pregnant.

You were moving your hips back to meet each frantic thrust. You two were really no better than animals in heat the way you shameless rutted against each other, incapable of words. Serving your country this way was humiliating, invasive and yet you were doing it without complaint, enjoying it more than you should. This should have been a matter where both of you grit your teeth and went ahead with resignation like you had before, it was lucky for you that it wasn’t like that but even so…you felt a bit whorish for spreading your legs so gladly for this purpose.

Levi was gripping your hips so hard, you knew he’d bruise you. There was typically never a moment that he wasn’t aware of his own strength and you doubted he’d hurt you on purpose so truly, he had to be lost in the wet, silken squeeze of your cunt around him, in the sound of your skin meeting his. That was a very pleasing thought, you didn’t mind the pain, not when it came from him being so lost in the pleasure you were bringing him. If anyone deserved to be able to forget their strength, forget their burden, it was certainly your captain. What pretty embellishment the bruises would make later on, hidden under your clothes.

His hips moved fluidly though they twitched and stuttered every now again when he hit the spot that made your whole body tense and nearly fucking sob with the unbearable pleasure. When he did so again, with another graceful movement of his hips, you could no longer handle it. In a strained voice, as his hand had begun to slightly squeeze your throat, you begged him to cum. Incessantly, near incoherently.

“You’re talking too much” Levi groaned, he was trying to hold back until he could make you cum. The words were pushing him too close to his own edge, carelessly babbling out things that made his need near unbearable to resist. He put a hand over your swollen lips, blocking your noises.

He set a more intense pace, pressing right against your sweet spot repeatedly. Desperately trying not to embarrass himself by cumming early. You looked back at him, your eyes wide and teary, continuing to convey without words what you wanted from him. You were on the verge of coming, your body tensing in anticipation and the muffled noises from his hand over your mouth come louder and easier.

He was uncharacteristically messy, skin sweaty and hair out of place. The blush spread across his skin matched the shade of his swollen lips. His half lidded eyes seemed darker in the low light, he appeared like an incubus. The absolute personification of arousal.

He took his hand from your mouth, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip as his hand ran down your skin back to your throat. He pushed you forward onto the bed and made you lay flat on your stomach. He climbed over you again, pressing his body onto yours, forcing you down against the mattress.

Pushing your legs wider, he fucked you deeper than he did before; he’s so much closer right above you, you can feel his warm breath fanning over your skin before he kisses you, just below your jaw. He’s slower though, trying to avoid cumming before you. But you are no further away from your end with the proximity, the smell of him, the weight of him pressing down on you. “Cum for me, yeah?” he murmured against your skin and you just couldn’t resist him.

It was almost painful after having been teased and denied, Levi let you cry out freely. You moaned and panted like an animal, your cunt clenching around Levi. “Please, please, Levi” were the only words you could manage as you did. He certainly understood.

Through gritted teeth, he lamented his loss of control, “Godammit.” He came inside you with a gasp, painting your walls with what he swears is the most he’s ever came in his life. The noises he made might have embarrassed him if only he could ever hear anything but your heavy, satisfied breathing and your little whimpers as he moved his hips to ride out his climax. You, however, had the privilege to be able to hear his lovely, breathy moans and sighs.

You pulled away from each other for a moment to rest before he fucked you again, this time with you in his lap. He’d had to help you take his cock, the position made you feel him far more deeply and with the near overwhelming stimulation, you struggled to keep moving your hips. Your captain, with the flinty look his eyes he had when you were too slow for his liking in training as a scout, bounced you onto his cock, hard. “Don’t you intend to do your duty? You should at least be able to handle this much” He’d said in a low voice that made you jolt from the authority conveyed in it. “Seems like I have to do everything as always.” Already rubbed sensitive from the first time, you unraveled shortly thereafter.

After the six fertile days assigned to you for breeding, Levi was required, as all male candidates were, to report to the fertility center. While actual fucking was reserved for the fertile days of their partner, genetic material could still be harvested from male candidates for preservation outside of that timeframe. A task Levi looked forward to much less than he had actually having to consummate. He imagined he’d be masturbating into a cup in a tiny washroom and handing it over to a stranger to put in a freezer alongside a million other samples but not before being forced to sign off on some ridiculous form promising that it’s definitely, 100% his sperm. How humiliating.

No such luck on the stranger part. Hange was his practitioner, who greeted him with a smile as soon as they walked through the door.

“How are you even allowed to be assigned to me? They don’t even allow attendants be assigned to people they’re connected to.”

“That’s because with attendants, there’s always the potential to spoof the results if one were so inclined, confirm that someone fucked even if they didn’t. They pay them well enough and threaten them severely enough that bribes aren’t likely but if one were asked by a friend to let them off the hook…” They laughed. “Well, you know. But around here, it’d be hard to fake anything with how methodical everything is. And people feel more comfortable with people they know, they ice up with doctors they don’t know suddenly lecturing them about sperm counts and everything.”

Levi blinked. “Let’s get this over with.”

Hange went to a cabinet behind them and pulled out some strange device, attaching glass bottles to a hollow part of it in the body of the machine that sat on the floor. A long tube connected it to a clear, hollow apparatus with an opening pointing toward him. “You’ll be using this. I came up with the design myself and I had no complaints during the testing phase.” They smiled, somewhat mischievously.

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s what you’ll use to collect your semen” they said, as if that fact should be obvious. “You’ll slide it on, stroke the canal there over your cock until you finish and then let it suck up what you put out.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack. C’mon smalls, it won’t bite. I know it won’t feel as nice as what’s between your partner’s legs but from the feedback I heard, it should still feel good enough to get the job done.”

“Shut up, there’s nothing nice about having to fuck some designated random with some grinning psycho waiting outside, treating you like an animal.” He scoffed. “And why don’t you have a match of your own? They’re playing favorites?”

“I’m a special case, my genes are just as ideal as yours if I do say so myself but at this point, it’s not recommended I put strain on my body with labor and pregnancy. So I’m freezing my eggs for preservation, so that my genes can still be passed along by someone who can safely give birth. It’s a little appealing, I think. Someone will eventually wind up pregnant with my kid. I hope it happens this generation.” They looked excited, genuinely excited.

“You don’t have to be so happy about it.” He scowled.

“Oh, please. Like you aren’t happy about getting to hump away at that partner of yours, like you wouldn’t want to see her pregnant with your baby.”

“I don’t think about those things, it’s just another job” He grumbled. “Not everyone is a pervert like you.”

“Oh? And I suppose you just lie back and think of Paradis when the time comes then, huh? You’re not attracted to her in the slightest?” Hange raised their eyebrow at him, with an annoyingly smug look.

“Just tell me how to turn this shitty thing on. I just want to get it done so I can leave” Levi asked, suddenly fidgeting with the device in front of him.

Hange was effectively distracted at the mention of their invention, one they were evidently very proud of and stopped teasing to explain. There were several settings, pressures, pulses, things too intricate for anyone but a pervert to think of, in Levi’s opinion. “Don’t worry, with these devices, there’s a disposable part in the place you’ll put your cock and they get cleaned out each use. Though, you’ll be the first one to use this particular machine so don’t think too much about it either way.” They patted the body of the device, sitting on floor, which housed the empty bottles.

Levi sighed. “Got it. You can leave now.”

“If you need any help, I’m in the hall, just give me a shout.” He would absolutely not be shouting for Hange even if his cock got stuck in the damn thing but it was nice of them to be so courteous.

Once they left and closed the door behind them, he locked it and flicked on the machine which made a whirring sound, softer than he was expecting. He still really didn’t want to put his cock in it, honestly just being asked to jerk off in a cup would have been less humiliating than having a contraption built for it. Why had he ever treated that like it was so bad?

He stuck two fingers in experimentally, feeling the inside of the hollow chamber. It was wet, lubed with a clear, thick liquid which allowed his fingers to slip in easily. The opening was of a soft, flexible material but it was tight, not unlike…He was starting to see where Hange’s head had been when designing it. There was pressure but it didn’t feel bad, it felt like a slight pull, like sucking.

After a moment, he managed to make himself hard and psych himself up to actually let Hange’s contraption near his cock. As he slid his cock into the sleeve, he sucked in a breath. It was so strangely, warm. It was warm as you were, almost. Although the stupid thing didn’t hold a candle to the way it felt inside you, it was softer, tighter than he thought. It was clear that the intention was to mimic that feeling and his body reacted accordingly. He stroked it over his cock in slow, gentle passes. His cock was absolutely weeping but the situation was distracting, he was very aware that he was alone in a room with Hange’s device clinging to his cock with plenty of people milling about outside.

He can get too in his head, lose his arousal quicker than a candle in the wind. But he desperately needed to get the fuck out of here so he needed to cum and get it done. He closed his eyes and tried to tune out his surroundings. Despite his wishes, he recalled Hange’s words. “Like you wouldn't want to see her pregnant with your baby.”

Somehow the thought made him shudder, it made his cock come back to life. He did, he did. He wanted to see it, he wondered how you’d look, pregnant with his child. The thought got him stroking his cock again, his cock being periodically squeezed by the soft machinations of the device. He imagined his hands roaming over your body, running his hands over the perfect curve of your stomach. He had heard that pregnant women were prone to having a stronger sex drive, in such case would you beg for him to make you cum? If he already had, would you beg for more? He’d have you sit on his face, even if you were too shy to truly commit to it, he’d move your hips for you and fuck you onto his tongue until he was a mess.

He moaned at the thought of you starting to show. At the thought of your breasts, swollen and tender. The thought of everyone knowing whose child you were carrying, who you’d laid with so many times. The thought of you needing him more desperately than before, making your pretty little noises when you begged for him. A guttural groan comes from deep in his throat. He strokes more quickly, the pace is near painful for how sensitive he’s become, it’s punishment for using you as masturbation fodder, for conjuring up the thought of driving his cock into you as he cradled the bump in his hands.

In an uninhibited moment, he thinks that he just can’t wait for you to be pregnant. He accidentally pressed a switch on the machine that made it seem to throb, he was mid moan when he felt the walls seem to twitch and he broke off with gasp. He thought of you, close to orgasm, throbbing and clenching around him. All of his attention centers on coming, on this facsimile of you. His head was tossed back, his lips parted and letting out his faint moans.

He chokes back hiccups as he comes close to coming. How long had he even been at it? It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes and he was already embarrassingly close, straddling the edge. He was tangled up in his illusion of you, halfway phased out of reality, simply enjoying the comfort of your tits filled with milk, of your warm skin, of your taste always being at the tip of his tongue. This alternate reality where he and you were a possibility. He’s even muttering to himself, to your illusion’s self, almost imperceptibly.

He imagines, lastly, your drooling little cunt leaving his lap slick as he bounces you onto him. He’s so immersed he can hardly think or manage anything other than a harsh, strained “Fuck” as the sleeve squeezes suddenly and your facsimile does the same, making him finally release, spilling for several seconds. He shoots everything, every drop of his cum– and there is a considerable amount – into you, into the machine. The pressure increases so that he spills more, a method imparted to make sure that they collect everything, prolonging his orgasm to a painful level until the machine clicks off and frees him.

The three little bottles sitting in the machine are filled with his cum, their lids are mechanically drilled on tightly as the machine shuts off completely. Levi was again awakened to reality. Post orgasm clarity hits him in the worst way. He’s red all the way to his ears in a matter of moments as his breathing slows and disgusted with all that he craved.

He waited a few minutes before seeing Hange and signing out, until he feels he can pretend to be his usual self again. He waited for that yearning and the guilt in his chest to fade, for disgust and humiliation to take its place completely. But even after another few minutes, the moment never came and he needed to get up anyway.

#levi thirsts #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #snk x you #snk x y/n #snk x reader #aot x reader #aot x female reader

389 notes · View notes

standfucker · 1 year

Text

The Break

Characters: Kid, Killer

Reader: GN, they/them

Word Count: 7.5k

CW: Gore, graphic description of injury+pain+first aid, hurt/comfort, confessions, highly oblivious reader

Summary: You knew you were bad with feelings, but the fact that it took a severe injury for this to come to light was maybe a little concerning.

Ao3 Link

There had only been two moments in your entire career as a pirate where you didn’t live up to your “Slippery” epithet. The first time was when Eustass Kid had bested you in combat. Rather than killing you, he offered you a place on his crew, which you had accepted–partially in the hopes of becoming stronger, and maybe also because you kind of found him incredibly attractive. That was three years ago.

The second time was right now. The enemy’s weapons consist of giant, metal crab claws, one of which snaps shut around your forearm with the force of an industrial machine before you can shave away. You’re pretty sure the whole battlefield heard the snap. A few things run through your brain in quick succession:

One–that’s going to hurt really, really badly in a second. You only have a short amount of time to counterattack.

Two–this was karma for that conversation in the mess room a few weeks ago, where you taunted the others over your having never broken a bone.

“I grew up on a dairy farm. My bones are like iron. Don’t compare it to the shortbread you all have for a skeleton.”

“You just haven’t battled enough, Slip.”

“Wrong! It’s because no one can catch me. They call me ‘Slippery Y/n’ because I’m too fast.”

“Yeah, yeah. But not fast enough, since you’re with us now!”

“Fuck off!”

Not fast enough indeed. But at least, now, you’re within striking range of the enemy. He doesn’t block in time; your scimitar opens his throat like a cut purse and sends him to his knees, gurgling. Your arm is released and you collapse on the ground, but before you can get back up, the pain hits with an intensity that immediately rips an agonized scream from deep in your lungs.

It’s like your arm’s been doused in gasoline and set on fire. Burning and sharp, sharp, sharp, so overwhelming you’re nauseous. You make the mistake of looking at your arm, and the flash of white sticking through the skin nearly makes you vomit on the spot. Seeing it for what it is somehow makes the pain worse, leaving you breathlessly curling over yourself on instinct, unable to move. Somewhere next to you the body of your enemy thuds onto the ground, dead.

The battle against the opposing crew is almost over. Though it’s not much longer before the last enemy is slain and someone rushes to your side, it feels like an eternity.

“Slip, are you okay?” You hear Hip’s voice before you, high-pitched with concern. It drops once she notices your injury. “Are you–oh. Oh, fuck. Um, guys! Hey, you guys! Slip is really hurt!”

Footsteps, more voices. One by one, crewmates converge around you.

“Oh, ew.”

“Oh, shit, Slip!”

“Slip!”

“Get out of the way!”

That last one would be Kid. You look up in time to see him push past a crewmate, face taught in what seems like anger but you’ve since learned to recognize is worry. Most of his deeper emotions are like that, sitting in the shadow of enmity but easily discernible if you knew him well enough.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asks, unable to assess your full state with you hunched over. The gruesomeness of your injury doesn’t seem to bother him. You shake your head, and relief softens his expression. “Okay. I know it hurts, but you’re gonna live.”

“I can’t get up,” you gasp, breath coming out short.

“Then I’ll carry you to the ship. Doctor’s on standby.” Kid crouches down next to you, flesh hand resting on your good shoulder. “It’s gonna hurt. Sorry in advance, Y/n.”

He’s the only one who doesn’t call you by your nickname. It makes sense, as he’s the one who caught you in the first place–it doesn’t really apply to him.

“It already hurts,” you reply, stupidly inviting more karma. Kid must think the same thing, because he frowns at you.

“Oh, just wait,” he mutters, and scoops you up as carefully as he can. The movement tears fresh hell through your arm, and you shout before you can even think to hold it in.

At least he doesn’t say ‘I told you so.’ It would only be salt in the wound, and you’re already in so much pain you can barely think. The walk back to the ship is its own trial, every step jolting your arm again, even with Kid’s best efforts to move smoothly. You tell yourself to be tough for about three seconds before it goes out the window. Frankly, you don’t deal with it well at all–you’ve never had a strong pain tolerance, it’s partly why you learned to be quick–but you manage not to scream with every step, so that’s something.

It’s a terrible shame that you’ll only remember this as excruciating–under any other circumstance, you would have cherished being held by Kid like this.

You glimpse your injury again, a wave of queasiness rising in your stomach, and press your face into Kid’s shoulder so as not to look. “I’m gonna throw up,” you say weakly.

“Since when does gore bother you?” Kid says under his breath, but you hear it.

“Since it is coming from MY BODY!!” you snarl. For once, Kid pities you enough not to scold you for talking back.

You’re shaking by the time you get to the infirmary. Most of the crew has come out of the battle unscathed, or with only minor injuries. The ship’s doctor is only concerned with you, and getting your bleeding to stop. But to close the rip…

“I have to reset the bones, first,” he says.

That was obvious to anyone with eyes, but you didn’t really think about it until just then. Your guts turn to stone at the thought, heavy and sinking as your heart starts to race. The lightest movement to your body is already enough to make you want to quit life on the spot; you are not prepared, capable, nor willing to see what it would feel like when the bone itself is directly touched.

“You can leave it as-is,” you say, not joking in the slightest, not caring if it sounds cowardly, not even caring that half the crew is surrounding the exam table to hear it.

Kid takes one look at the fear in your eyes and turns to the rest of the crew. “Get out,” he commands. Everyone complies without question, only Killer staying behind, the unspoken exception.

Once the last person closes the door behind them, Kid focuses on you. “Y/n–”

“I can’t do it,” you cut him off, eyes welling up with tears. “I–I don’t want to.”

“Tough,” Kid snaps. “This is what you get for getting caught.”

“Kid,” Killer says, a warning to go easy on you.

It’s not necessary. You can see right through Kid’s harsh exterior. He always gets upset when a crewmate is hurt badly. What he’s really saying is ‘this is what you get for making me worry.’

“No time for discussion,” says the doctor. “I’d like to get this done before any more blood is lost. Hold them down, would you?”

Before you can protest, Kid and Killer secure you in place: Kid’s metal hand presses down on your legs while his flesh one wraps tightly around your good arm, and Killer pins your torso to his from behind.

“Wait, wait, wait!” you cry out quickly, but you can’t budge against them both.

Kid nods at the doctor. “Do it.”

The disinfectant comes first, stealing the breath from your lungs, like acid on your exposed flesh. The doctor gives you no time to process the first action before he moves onto the second–rationally, you know it’s to minimize the amount of time you’ll be in pain, but you are incapable of viewing his actions kindly at the moment. He immediately forces the bones back to where they should be in one firm, expert motion.

The world goes white. Nothing exists anymore except for the pain in your arm, unimaginable and all-consuming. You don’t perceive anything else, blind and deaf to any stimuli that isn’t sheer agony. Later on, you’ll realize that you must have screamed, if the soreness when you speak is any indication, but you don’t remember it.

The intensity eventually wanes enough to restore your senses, though your head is still swimming from the assault. Your sight returns first. Instead of the cold infirmary, your vision is entirely filled by Kid, his face so close you’d be staring into his eyes if they were open. His forehead is pressed to yours, and he’s saying something, but you don’t process it until your hearing comes back a moment later.

“...did good, Y/n, you did good. You’re okay. Easy, you’re okay.”

Kid… you think dimly, followed by, huh. Have I seen him do this with anyone but Killer?

You don’t question it beyond that thought, hanging onto his every word. The closeness abates the hurt, even if just slightly, and you bask in it, taking any mercy you can get. Kid and ‘comfort’ aren’t things that generally go together, but to you–scared, in pain, and maybe just a little bit hopelessly in love with him–it’s everything.

Killer smooths your hair back. His solid chest against your back is grounding, helping you stay present through the haze of misery. You’re suddenly grateful he’s there, too, his presence equally as soothing as Kid’s, the degree to which triggering a new realization: It’s obvious in hindsight, but you’ve never been great at analyzing your own feelings, and as such, it only just dawns on you that you’re down just as bad for the first mate. The revelation would have been panic-inducing if it wasn’t for the pain currently demanding all of your attention.

“They still with us?” Killer asks behind you.

Kid’s eyes open, meeting yours. You’ve never seen them this close before. The irises are an orange-gold, reminding you of smoldering embers. Your breath leaves you once more, but you’re not sure pain is the cause this time. Though it must have left you delirious, because your mouth moves before your brain can catch up.

“You have pretty eyes,” you mumble.

Said pretty eyes widen, Kid pulling back in surprise. He glances at Killer. “...That answer your question?”

Killer hums, gently rubbing your good arm. You go limp, leaning your full weight back against him without shame, hurting too much to care right then. He doesn’t seem to mind, anyway.

There’s a faint tinge of pink on Kid’s face, and he smirks down at you. “Better be careful there, Y/n. You can’t blame what you say on a head injury.”

“Whatever,” you huff, knowing you can get away with being rude without repercussions for now. “I don’t–” your words break into a gasp as the pain in your arm spikes so intensely that spots dot your vision.

Kid’s smirk instantly falls. You try to look at your burning arm, but he turns your head back so you’re watching him instead.

“Don’t look. He’s stitching it now. Keep your eyes on me, okay?”

Another wave of pain has you fighting back a sob, barely able to keep it down. You instinctively go to look again, but Kid keeps your head from turning with a steady hand cupping the side of your face.

“Look at me, Y/n. There you go. Just hold on a bit longer.”

You try to do as he says, focusing on his eyes rather than the current torture, but it’s impossible. “Hurts so bad,” you whimper.

“I know,” Kid says softly. “We’re right here.”

The curved needle hooking through your skin isn’t the problem, nor is the nauseating sensation of the sutures sliding through the layers of flesh. Both, while admittedly sucking hard, are tolerable. The problem is that even as careful as he is, the doctor is still moving your arm with every stitch.

“Almost done,” Killer says, “almost done. You’re doing great.”

Am I really? you want to ask, but you’re currently unable to form anything more coherent than groans and curses.

The final trial is the splint, more unbearable movement to your arm that has you gripping the edge of the exam table so hard your knuckles turn white. Killer takes notice, peeling your hand from the table to hold in his, instead. Despite his hand being twice the size of yours, you’re pretty sure you crush it with the strength of your grip, but he doesn’t complain.

“I’ll apply a proper cast once the swelling goes down,” the doctor says once he’s finally, finally fucking done. “Rest in one of the patient beds and keep your arm above your heart as much as possible. You’re to sleep here until further notice.”

You’re helped into one of the beds, and once the doctor’s applied ice packs to your injury, Kid dismisses him. The three of you are left alone, Kid and Killer pulling up chairs next to the bed. Lying back, you stare blankly at the ceiling, catching your breath, humbled and terrified at the human body’s ability to feel such all-consuming anguish. Adrenaline still courses through your veins, making you jittery and hyper-aware, and you’re sweating, but at least the pain in your arm has simmered down to a dull, throbbing ache. While it still feels like the bones are screaming at you, you can endure it quietly, though it does make your eyes water.

With the diminishing of the pain comes just enough clarity for you to feel utterly and totally disgraceful. You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone on the crew scream like you had, and plenty of them had endured their fair share of awful injuries. So why couldn’t you handle it better? How could you call yourself a pirate after such a display? All of that, and still visibly on the verge of tears now that it was over? You’d be more embarrassed about crying in front of them if you hadn’t just spent the enitre past fifteen minutes acting like a complete bitch.

Kid may have said you couldn’t blame your words on a head injury, but you think the pain alone is enough to make you loopy, because you find yourself laughing shortly at the thought. It’s more of a huff and a grin, really–anything more would jostle your arm.

“Y/n?” Kid asks, concerned.

“It’s just,” you glance at him, then back at the ceiling, smiling ruefully. “I wanted to be tough, if you can believe that. But I couldn’t manage it… Pitiful, right?”

“What are you talking about?” Kid scowls. “That pirate broke your arm and you still killed him.”

“Only because I didn’t feel it right away. It doesn’t count. When push came to shove, I couldn’t handle it at all. I’m a Kid Pirate–I should be tougher. And yet, I…” You blink, and the tears gathered at the corners of your eyes break free, running down your temples. “I didn’t have it in me.”

“Y/n…?”

You look between Kid and Killer. Kid’s worry is evident behind the tension in his face, and while Killer’s expression is hidden, there’s nothing in his body language to suggest he’s upset with you. Your smile wavers, chest getting tight. The next wave of tears has nothing to do with pain.

“Aren’t you ashamed of me?” Your voice cracks, as if you couldn’t be any more pathetic.

“Don’t,” Kid says stiffly. “Don’t do the self-pity thing now. It doesn’t suit you.”

“But I–”

“Look,” Killer says, “everyone’s different, with different tolerances for pain. You don’t need to be unfeeling to be a capable fighter.”

Easy for him to say–Killer had the highest pain tolerance in the crew. Still, you don’t miss the compliment, mentally clinging to it like it could redeem you.

“You think I’m a capable fighter?” you ask, voice small.

“I invited you onto my crew for a reason, okay?” Kid says. “I saw potential. I still see it. You’ve gotten stronger since we first met.” Kid looks away. “...I haven’t once regretted my decision.”

“Oh…” Self-doubt tells you that Kid’s just saying those things to make you feel better, but experience has you discarding the thought. You know him better than that. Kid has always meant what he said, he wouldn’t make such claims lightly. The words are real and sincere, threatening to make you cry harder, but you force it down. He’s never liked dealing with tears.

Kid won’t meet your eye. From your angle on the bed, you can see a blush spread across his cheeks, darker than before. Maybe that’s why he makes to leave, pushing his chair back and getting up, Killer following suit. Or maybe he just means to check on the crew. Regardless, a surge of objection rises in your chest, every bit as selfish and puerile as a child protesting their parents leaving them in daycare.

“You’re going?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

They pause, Kid turning back to you. “Do you want us to stay?”

You don’t look at him when you nod shallowly, ashamed. But you don’t want to hurt alone. Rationally, you know you’re going to be in pain for a long while, and they can’t be at your side the whole time. Still, if they’ll let you, then you’ll be self-centered for just a bit longer.

Kid and Killer sit back down.

“Thanks,” you say quietly. Then, even quieter, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fucking apologize,” Kid grumbles. “I told you to knock that shit off.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. He could be so rough about it, but there was genuine care behind his refusing to let you wallow in self-pity.

Killer takes your hand. “Is this the first time you’ve been injured like this?” he asks.

You nod.

“Listen... Sometimes, when you’re hurt bad enough physically, it messes with your head, too,” Killer says. “You feel vulnerable and insecure. Helpless, even. So,” he squeezes your hand lightly, “it’s okay if you’re more sensitive than you normally would be. No one's going to hold it against you. You came out of the battle alive. That’s what matters.”

Damn him and his tenderness, you’re trying not to cry. You pull your hand away, lower lip wobbling, and take a shaky breath, holding it down. You glance at Kid. He’s staring hard at your broken arm. Suddenly his ire stops being transparent–just like when you first joined the crew, you’re completely unable to discern what he’s really thinking. All you see is the discontent, so close to disapproval that it makes you uncertain.

“Are you, um,” you say nervously, “are you mad at me?”

“No,” Kid says, but it comes out a bit stiff. “At least, not for the reason you think. I’m proud of you for taking out that pirate. He was twice your size and faster, but you still won.” He taps his nails against his metal hand. “Y/n… When Hip said you were really hurt, I feared the worst. I thought you’d been fatally injured.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” you joke.

“Shut the fuck up!” Kid snaps, glaring. He’s gritting his teeth, eyes hard and angry, but then there’s a break, a crack in his expression. It’s just a glimpse, but for the first time, you see fear behind the fury. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again. Got it? Or I’ll break your other arm.”

Despite the harsh words, emotion swells in your chest, fuzzy and light. You feel yourself tearing up again. “Yes, captain.”

“You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?”

You smile slightly. “Yes, captain.”

Kid leans back in his chair, arms crossed, scowl etched deep. You watch as Killer touches Kid’s arm briefly, reassuring. With the worst of the pain behind you comes the presence of mind to start overthinking, and you dive right in: They have each other. It’s clear that they care about you, but it will never be in the way you want.

The ache in your arm seems fitting, a backdrop of physical pain behind the emotional. Liking Kid is stressful enough, but now that you were aware of your feelings for Killer, it was compounded, growing like a chemical reaction into something huge and overwhelming. As a trusted crewmate, you pretty much have front row seats to the small intimacies those two exchange. How are you supposed to go on watching and not be eaten alive by jealousy?

Maybe you should leave. Maybe this was your sign that the good times had run out, and it was time to strike it out solo again. You don’t want to go–crushes aside, you were fond of the crew, having come to see them as family–but could you handle living with Kid and Killer now? The unrequited desire was already burrowing under your skin like a grass seed, threatening to travel and lodge deep into your heart. Cutting ties now would spare you more hurt in the long run.

But first you had to heal from this injury, something better done with the security of a crew protecting you.

Then, unprompted, Killer reaches over to wipe the sweat from your forehead, and you start reconsidering even that notion. If they were going to be gentle the entire recovery period, you were really gonna lose it. The compassion was too close to intimacy, a taste of what you couldn’t have.

"The next few months are gonna blow," you say, the true meaning of the statement masked.

"Just wait until it starts itching under the cast," Killer says lightly.

"Ugh. And I'll hardly be able to move." You grimace. "I'll need help even with basic tasks… You're right, Killer, it does feel helpless."

"It'll be fine," Kid says. "You have us and the crew."

He's still frowning, but you can read him again. Not that you need to with the frankness of his words.

"At least there's a bright side," you smile impishly, "if you're gonna be soft this whole time."

"Watch it," Kid warns, but his lip curls up just a bit. "Don't get used to it."

Too bad for him, you fully intend to abuse your power. It’ll be interesting to see how much you can get away with, and you might as well have some kind of outlet for these awful feelings in the meantime.

“Nah, I’m gonna enjoy it while I can,” you say, “because it’s not gonna happen another time. I’m gonna get even stronger, so I’ll never go through that again.” You wipe away the gathered tears with the back of your hand. “I’m gonna surpass even the shave technique. I’ll be uncatchable.”

Kid and Killer exchange glances–an impressive feat considering Killer’s mask, but that’s just the kind of wavelength they’re on–and then they look at you, Kid wearing one of his rare serious expressions. “I know the last half hour was rough, Y/n. But you won’t get any better as a fighter if fear is your motivator.”

That makes you pout, mostly because you know he’s right. Arguing that it had worked out for this long was pointless, because it really hadn’t. You only survived the fight with Kid years ago because of his whims, and today’s battle had ended in agony. You wouldn’t be forgetting it anytime soon, but maybe that was better. Maybe a reminder that you weren’t invulnerable was what you needed. So long as you didn’t succumb to fear, like Kid said.

“I guess it wasn’t entirely miserable,” you muse, thinking back to how Kid carried you to the ship. That was a lie–you were hurting far too badly to enjoy the contact–but the thought that it happened still made you kind of happy, in a messed up way. Maybe you were more touch-starved than you thought. “I got to be held. Can’t remember the last time I was that close to someone.”

Kid looks surprised, and then his expression slowly morphs into something smug, an arrogant smirk plastered on his face. “If you wanted to be close to me, Y/n, you could have just asked.”

Your cheeks instantly flare hot, caught so off-guard all you can do is stare in dumb shock before you turn your head away. What the hell was he doing? Why would he say that? Now there was an ache in your chest as well as your arm.

“Is that what this was all about?” Kid continues gleefully. “Did you let yourself get hurt so your captain would come take care of you?”

No, no, no. Don’t do this to me. Regardless of what he meant by the teasing, it felt like a weight was sitting over your sternum. And really, he was such a fucking jerk, taking obvious pleasure in your flustered response. Honestly, why did you even like him?

“We’re right here.”

Your brain plays the memory back like a traitor, impressing the reason. Why did he have to be so damned nice to you? Why couldn’t he have been cold or stern or even harsh, like usual? This would have been so much easier if he just told you off for screaming, or called you a pussy or something, but no. He had to hold you and reassure you and now you didn’t know what to do.

“Stop it,” you say, but it comes out small and feeble. This was all too much, especially now. Killer had a point–you were in a delicate way mentally. The walls weren’t up, you couldn’t buffer any of these feelings. “Talk to me like that and I’ll leave.”

Kid pauses. “What do you mean, you’ll leave?”

“I’ll leave the crew.”

“What?!” Kid grabs the arms of his chair, leaning forward like he didn’t hear you right the first time.

“Slip?” Killer questions.

You avoid their eyes. “I can’t–I can’t do this. I can’t be around you if you’re going to be like… like that.”

“The hell are you talking about?” Kid demands.

“Slip, what’s wrong?” Killer asks. “Was it something we said?”

“No! I mean, yes!” you say, tugging at your hair with your good hand. “I mean… I…”

“Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?” Kid says hotly. “What the hell is your problem?”

“I’m in love with you!” you shout. “That’s my fucking problem, Kid!”

Oops. Well. It was out now. Might as well go all-in. You cover your face as you add, “Killer, too. I love you both. I’m sorry.”

The shame settles like rot in your stomach, as nauseating as the physical pain was. There was no taking it back now. You expect shocked silence, or even Kid getting angry.

What you don’t expect is Kid, as casually as if discussing the weather, responding, “Oh. Yeah, I know.”

It takes a minute to process what he said, mentally flipping the words over in an attempt to parse them. Your hand slowly drops from your face, and you fix him with a look that manages to be both pointed and baffled. “...What?”

“I already knew that,” Kid clarifies.

You stare a hole through him. “...What?”

“What exactly are you not getting? I’m telling you I already knew.”

“Fucking excuse me?!” It finally processes, crashing over you like a boiling wave, drenching and searing all at once. “Since when?!”

“Since we met, you idiot.”

Your jaw drops. He had known all this time? For three fucking years? He knew?

“You’re not a subtle person, Y/n,” Kid says, then grins. “You got really, really worked up when I caught you that one time. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“You knew?” You look between him and Killer, at a loss. “The entire time?”

“Y/n, the whole crew knows.”

“What?!” You sit up so quickly it jostles your injury, sending a hellish jolt of pain through your arm that makes you hiss.

“Easy,” Killer says, gently pushing your good shoulder to prompt you to lay back.

“Don’t tell me to take it easy!” you snap, but acquiesce, letting him push you back. “What the hell do you mean, you knew… The crew knows… Oh my god…”

“There, there,” Killer says, but you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“Anyway,” Kid says nonchalantly, “you don’t have permission to leave.”

Ordinarily, you would say 'I wasn't aware I needed it,' but you're currently too stunned to reply. All this time. And the crew knows.

What are you to make of that? Kid doesn’t look upset. Killer doesn’t sound upset. They’re fine with your crush? Did such things really not bother them, or did they… No. There was no way. You can't wrap your head around the implications. There was no way. Right? Because if they liked you back, wouldn’t they have said something by now?

You have to find out. Living on this ship with that hanging over you is beyond what you can handle. And with months of recovery ahead of you, now would be as good a time as any to shoot your shot.

But you only get out "Do you–" before your voice catches, the query dying in your throat. You can't say it, can't bring yourself to ask. Something in your head is as broken as your arm, refusing to form the words.

Kid and Killer are listening, waiting for you to continue, but you shake your head. “Never mind.”

The answer to that question would hurt, and you’ve had enough of that for a good, long while. But without it comes the uncertainty, which almost feels worse. Unable to reconcile how you feel and exhausted from the aftermath of the adrenaline, you find you just want to be close to them again. Maybe you’re too much of a coward to ask the crucial question. But you aren’t above taking advantage of your current state to seek out a bit of comfort.

"Back when I was a kid," you say, "and I had to go to the doctor, my guardian would take me to get a treat afterwards. Like ice cream or something."

"Yeah?" Kid says, grinning wide. "Is there something you want from me? What could it possibly be, I wonder?"

Suddenly you're tongue-tied. You didn’t expect him to cotton on so fast, but underestimating Kid was why you had lost to him in the first place three years ago.

When you don't respond, Kid rests his chin on his metal hand, having the gall to look even more smug. "You need to say it out loud, Y/n."

Fucking jerk. Fine. "Um…" you start, fresh heat warming your face, "well, uh… Can I have, uh… A hug…?"

Kid looks surprised at that for some reason, raising a brow. What was he expecting? Still, he rises from his seat, and you sit up in anticipation. This was enough for now. Just to be held, one more time. You could figure out the rest later.

“That’s really all you want?” Kid says, looking at you like he can’t figure you out. He leans over you, towering, your height difference exacerbated with you being seated. “A hug?”

“...Yeah?” you respond hesitantly, unsure of what he means by the question.

Kid regards you for a moment, searching your eyes. Then he smirks. “I’ll do you one better.”

Before you can register the meaning of his words, Kid tilts your chin up, leans in, and presses his lips to yours in a firm and intent kiss.

Suffice to say, your brain promptly short-circuits. For a moment, not a single neuron fires. Then there’s a storm of activity, a thousand different thoughts and feelings screaming all at once. At the same time, a soft sort of tingling spreads throughout your whole body, fluttering and warm, so pleasant that you could cry. And, for just a second, like something out of a fairy tale, you don’t feel any of the pain in your arm. (You can never, ever tell this to Kid–he will hold it over your head for the rest of your life.)

While you’re too shocked to reciprocate, once Kid pulls away, you find yourself leaning forward, chasing the contact. He notices, if his widening smirk is any indication.

“Better than a hug, right?” he says, self-satisfied.

“Um,” you respond cleverly, still bewildered by the action. “Uh… Kid? Do you… Do you like me?”

Kid pinches the bridge of his nose. “Y/n, I literally just kissed you. What the fuck do you think?”

“Wait, shut up. Hold on. Wait.” The fact that Kid doesn’t react to your telling him to shut up is a testament to his going easy on you, and you make a mental note of it for later. “If you liked me back, why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“What are you talking about? I’ve been flirting with you for years!”

Your eyes bug out at him. “You have?”

“For someone who thinks so quickly in battle, it’s amazing how slow you are on the uptake,” Kid says, exasperated. You frown, because rude, but he keeps going. “At first, when you didn’t respond, I thought you weren’t interested. But the way you acted around me and Killer proved otherwise. It was confusing as hell! Then, a few weeks ago, the crew was at a tavern, and you were approached by that bounty hunter–you remember?”

“Yeah… What about him?”

“He started flirting real heavy, and it all went right over your head. It was incredible to watch. I realized then that you weren’t sending me mixed signals on purpose, but that you were really just that fucking oblivious.”

You blink. “He was flirting with me?”

“He bought you a drink!” Kid shouts, throwing his arms out in frustration and nearly knocking over another bed with his metal one. Killer covers his mask over where his mouth would be, as if that would help him suppress a laugh.

“I thought he was trying to sucker me out of information.”

“He was trying to sucker you out of your clothes.”

“Oh… So that’s why you nearly killed him.”

You stare down at your lap as you try to process all the new information. Kid liked you back. Not only that, but he had been attempting to show it pretty much since the beginning. You knew you were bad with feelings, but the fact that it took a severe injury for this to come to light was maybe a little concerning. And what about Killer? He wasn’t nearly as open as Kid, so even if he had been showing similar signs, you would have never picked up on it.

“Does, uh,” you say, looking up at them, “does Killer also…?”

“Yeah,” Kid says, “Killer too, though he never flirted with you over it.”

“I kind of did,” Killer speaks up, “here and there, but I stopped when it seemed like you weren’t into it.”

You think back, trying to recall any times where that might have happened. While Killer seemed outwardly stoic, he was surprisingly affable toward crewmates, so you never thought twice about any lingering touches or supportive words coming from him.

“Um… Wow. I’m sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to be confusing. I guess I just never thought it was possible that anyone would like me that way.”

“Why would you think that?” Killer sounds genuinely confused, and you tense, the question dredging up a host of bad memories. That was one traumatic can of worms you didn’t need to open, so you just shrug it off.

“Uh, no reason…”

“You’ve never been in a relationship?” Kid asks.

“Not really,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. All of this was new territory, the revelation that they were both interested leaving you stumped. “...What do I even do now?”

“Whatever you want.”

You stare at Kid, then glance away, cheeks growing warm in embarrassment before you even say it. “...I want you to kiss me again.”

“You really think you deserve it after all that you’ve put us through?” Kid grins, but despite what he says, he leans right back in to grant your wish.

The second kiss is softer, even tender. Your eyes close as you cup his cheek, and his hand covers yours. That fluttering sensation returns, prickling across your skin like you’ve sunk into a warm bath, enveloping and soothing.

When Kid breaks free this time, you can’t help but look at Killer afterwards, the longing in your expression making your thoughts evident.

“What, I’m not good enough for you?” Kid accuses, but you can tell he’s teasing.

“No,” you say brightly, safe in the knowledge that he won’t retaliate while you’re injured. Or so you thought–Kid pinches your cheek (with his flesh hand, at least,) harder and harder until you apologize. You rub your sore cheek, pouting. “I swear I’m not complaining or anything, but, uh… You don’t want to, Killer?”

Killer turns his head away, quiet for a moment. “...I will… Once you’ve recovered, and the cast comes off.” He looks your way again. “So you have the motivation to heal quickly.”

Later on, when you’ve gotten to know him more intimately, you’ll look back and realize that the ‘motivation’ line was complete bullshit, and that he was just covering up his shyness. But right then, you accept him at his word, though you’re a bit disappointed.

“Sure. Okay.” You lay back in the bed, a smile slowly stretching your lips. “I can live with that.”

Today was a one-two punch in staggering experiences. First you went through the worst physical pain you’d felt yet, then Kid revealed that he and Killer both liked you back. You were ecstatic, of course–but the fact that you never had to go through breaking your arm to learn of it made you more than a little mad at yourself.

“We can talk about all this later,” Kid says. “You need to rest.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kid looks at you sharply, and you get a funny feeling in your gut. Did… Did he like that? What a stuck-up asshole. God, you love him. Which is why you’re going to use that against him later.

“Try and get some sleep, if you can. The next island we’re stopping at has a pharmacy. Once we raid it and restock our medical supplies, you won’t be hurting so much, so just hang on until then. Okay?” Kid touches your cheek.

“Okay,” you reply, trying not to show how giddy the simple action makes you.

But given that he knew of your attraction all this time, he can probably tell anyway.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!” You glare at the crewmates sitting around your bed. The doctor will only let a few people in to see you at a time, so right now, it’s just Heat, Wire, and Quincy, the latter currently signing your cast. “Some nakama you are! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It would have interfered with the betting pool,” Wire says.

“Betting pool?!”

“After a while,” Heat adds, “it just became kind of a social experiment.”

“Betting pool?!” you reiterate.

“Relax,” Quincy says, capping the marker. “If you get worked up, the doc will kick us out.”

“Fine.” You scowl, but relent, shoulders drooping.

“So how’d it go down?” Heat asks. “Did you tell Kid first, or did he tell you?”

“I said it first.”

“Damn,” Wire mutters, fishing a thick wad of cash out of his pocket and passing it to Heat.

Your eyes widen at the blatant exchange. “I will fucking strangle you both!”

“With one hand?” Wire asks, and the three of them burst into laughter.

You throw your medicine bottle at his head.

After months of waiting, you’re eager to finally have the cast off, but a part of you will miss looking at everyone’s signatures. Heat even drew the crew’s jolly roger on it.

“Some pain and stiffness afterwards is normal. Your range of motion will be limited. After months of being immobile, the muscles are weakened,” the doctor explains. “You are to wait one week before any exercise or heavy physical activity with that arm. Understand?”

The moment the cast is removed and the doctor releases you, you go find Killer on the ship.

“Hey, Killer!” You wave at him with your newly-healed arm, though you find the action is more difficult than you expected, just like the doctor said. “Cast is off, big guy. Time to pay up.”

When Killer doesn’t respond right away, you think maybe he’s forgotten what he said months ago. He looks around at the other crewmates on deck, then takes your hand and wordlessly leads you elsewhere.

“Killer?” you ask as you follow, but he remains silent.

Killer takes you all the way to the captain’s cabin, closing the door behind the both of you. Kid is currently there, sitting at his desk and looking over a map, head turning to you as soon as you enter.

“Everything okay?” Kid asks, then, noticing your cast is off, he smirks. “Oh, I see. Went for it first thing, huh, Y/n? You must have really been looking forward to it.”

“Shut up, Kid!” you say, face growing hot.

Kid rises from his seat, coming to stand behind you, and rests his flesh hand on your shoulder, squeezing in threat. “Careful, Y/n. You don’t have that injury to protect you anymore.”

Despite the warning, something about the way he says it, voice low and smooth, makes your stomach knot.

“Alright, alright, fine. Yes, I’ve been looking forward to it, okay? I’ve been thinking about it every day since,” you admit, swallowing. “But, Killer, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Killer is silent once more. You scan him anxiously, trying to get a read on his body language. He seems tense, so it takes you by surprise when he quietly says, “I want to.”

“Oh.”

Killer steps closer, right in front of you, so you’re sandwiched between the captain and first mate. Belatedly, you realize he’ll have to take off his mask, which you didn’t think about before. You’re not sure that even Heat or Wire have seen him without it, and you’re suddenly nervous that you’re violating some boundary by asking him to kiss you.

Then, Kid moves his hand from your shoulder to your face, covering your eyes from behind. You hear a faint noise like rustling hair that must be Killer removing his mask. Unable to see, you can only wait, heart pounding. It feels like forever before you feel his breath on your face, not making contact yet–he’s hesitating. And then, finally, after months of patience, he closes the gap, soft lips capturing your own.

Just like that, all your nerves melt away, fading behind the static that seems to spark through your body. You reach out for Killer blindly, hands landing in his hair before they slide down to hold his face, pulling as if you could draw him even closer. He sighs into your mouth in response, making your knees grow weak.

After far too short a time, Killer pulls away, and your grip on his face tightens in reluctance.

“Wait, wait,” you mumble, “again. Please, I–”

Your protest is muffled by Killer’s mouth closing over yours again, swallowing your words and your sanity all at once. He’s firmer this time, indelicate and needy, large hands grabbing hold of your waist. The little whine that slips out of you is involuntary, and you hear Kid chuckle behind you.

Eventually, Killer breaks away, leaving the both of you stunned and flushed with endorphins.

“You have no idea, Y/n,” Kid whispers into your ear, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck. “How much he’s talked about this.”

“Like you haven’t been talking about them?” Killer says defensively. “The sheer amount of grievances I’ve had to listen to the last few years… Where do I even begin? First, there was–”

“Okay!” Kid cuts him off, uncharacteristically flustered. “I get it.”

You snicker, and Kid immediately wraps his metal hand around your hip, gripping just tightly enough so as not to be painful, but still securely enough so that you’re trapped in place. It’s huge in comparison to you, the pinky sinking into your thigh while the index presses into your stomach. You gasp, going rigid, the position intimately familiar–this was the exact way that Kid had caught you three years ago.

“You know, Y/n,” Kid says, his tone soft with warning, “you’ve been a real piece of work these last few months. Smart-mouthed. Insolent. Talking back to me. Thinking you were so safe because of your injury.” He’s speaking into your ear again, breath hot on your skin, and your heart starts to race. “I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted, Y/n, because I’ve been keeping track. Every comment, every cheeky little quip, I committed to memory, waiting for this moment. I think it’s time I paid it back. Wouldn’t you agree, Killer?”

“Definitely,” Killer responds without hesitation.

Heat courses through your body, collecting at the apex of your thighs. Still blinded by Kid, you can’t see Killer move, but you feel his rough fingers tracing your throat a moment later.

The third time around, you are perfectly okay with not having lived up to your epithet.

#one piece imagines #one piece x reader #eustass kid x reader #killer x reader #reader insert #zen writes

486 notes · View notes

ms-scarletwings · 9 months

Text

The Speculative Analysis About Irkens No One Asked For: Part II

Hiya! Back at it again with not shutting up about the lil green dudes. In case you found this first, here’s the Part One of this spiel, touching on some of the environmental theories about Irk and its cyberpunk-leaning cultural direction. While this post is dedicated to a more biological look of what’s going on with the Irkens, there was some leading context and other tidbits back in that one you may also enjoy, too.

So, carrying through what we previously set up, I want to… admit off the bat that, I found it a little difficult at first, you know?-To pick an angle I wanted to sink my teeth into. With how old the show’s become and how creative & enthusiastic a fanbase it attracted, it’s getting hard to really note (or theorize) something about Irken anatomy that hasn’t been said before somewhere. And don’t get me wrong, that’s awesome and I love almost every word of it I’ve read. A lot of it from various sources is almost certainly going to bleed together into the first half of this. So, keep it in mind, yet I will try to chew a little deeper into the questions we can’t actually answer with just a rewatch of the show, all good? Because there’s a few more base things we know from the canon I’m going to include to start listing: - Irkens lack any visible form of nose or ears, but are equipped with a pair of sensory antennae. Presumably, these organs fulfill the same roles, as they do in real-world insects. - Irken organs are obviously very alien, not well explained, artificially enhanced, and hard to compare to that of a human’s- outside of their general body shape, the presence of a primary brain separate from the PAK, and the fact that they do possess something of an internal skeleton. - A petite race on average (relative to humans), Irkens universally follow an unquestioned social hierarchy based on individual height. - Irkens are endowed with a remarkable ability to regenerate and heal superficial injuries, even up to repairing the damage of being nearly skinned alive (chest-down) or severely burning their corneas within a matter of hours. - Their preferred diet is one that is rich in (if not primarily made of) refined carbohydrates, and while they seem to tolerate fatty sources, such as processed dairy, their anatomy is poorly suited for dealing with high-protein foods like beans and meat. - In fact, all forms of contact with exposed animal meat itself will cause it to dissolve and meld into their own flesh, via an incredibly painful process. - On contact with water from Earth, their skin will receive harsh chemical burns (This has been explained by Vasquez to be a consequence of impurities and man-made pollutants, which Irkens seem sensitive to). - While I’m already on a roll about their skin, it also contains/produces a substance capable of killing lice.

Now, I think we’ve all heard a lot about sqeedily spooches, but does anyone else want to keep marinating a second longer on the topic of s k i n ? Because I have some damn thoughts to release about Zim’s outer casing.

Let’s Get Chemical

First hot take, and the hill I am willing to be slain on: That ain’t actually skin! At least, it is nothing chemically alike to Earth-native vertebrate skin. I’ve given all of the above and the general running theme about Irkens resembling arthropods a lot of thought, and I’ve come to about the only conclusion I could that makes their dermis equivalent… make sense.

See, one of the biggest traits that sets apart invertebrates from other animals in real life is the “innie or outie” skeleton question, but you gotta understand that the “skeletons” that bugs and crabs have would still be considered something completely different from our endoskeletons even if they were on the inside. The hard tissues that make up OUR skeletal systems are mostly made up of a *collagen (remember that word!) frame that is reinforced by calcium, phosphorus, and other minerals. The hard parts of an ant’s skeleton, on the other foot, are mainly composited of chitin.

Chitin, now, is a very neat substance. It’s a polysaccharide, meaning that it’s made up of a bunch of sugar molecules chained together. This makes it distinct from proteins, which are made of amino acid chains instead of carbs. Chitin is also one of the single most important structural polymers in the universe to a ton of existing life. It makes up the literal backbone of arthropods and the cell walls of all fungi. We’ve even found it in fish scales and some amphibians. So, must also be important to humans, right? NAH. Not a chance. Higher animals actually long ditched the ability to synthesize the stuff, and are not any the worse for it, since there’s more than one way to stick a bunch of creature pieces together. For two examples, keratin and *collagen are proteins we naturally synthesize that functionally do the same thing. Keratin is the hard substance that makes up hair & fingernails, and collagen is practically the wonderglue of flesh: It’s a fundamental binder that holds together your bones, your skin, your precious muscle meats, the ligaments, the tendies, the nerves…

pretty much the whole person blueprint if you get the picture.

And thus concludes your (VERY overly simplified) highshcool bio class recap, but what the hell did that have to do with the cartoon spacemen again? I’m gonna round back to them through a funny secret about exoskeletons, actually: They have a softer part, too! Chitin’s hella diverse in its forms and utility. What’s in an exoskeleton is actually a version of it modified with other materials (like what’s done to collagen in bone) to make it so rigid and shell-like. A purer chitin, on the other hand, is more leathery and flexible, less like the shell of a beetle and more like the squishy wall around a caterpillar or maggot. Even the hard bodied insects still have an endocuticle layer like this hiding just under the “shell”, still considered part of the whole exoskeleton, but suddenly looking and acting more like we’d call a skin.

Eh, see where I’m going with this? My conviction is this- Irkens may have used to be even more arthropodal in an earlier stage of their evolution, including BOTH an internal skeleton, and some form of protective exoskeleton in their body plan. And hey, maybe the two were extensions of the same system once, too. You recognize something like that in modern tortoises when you remember that their “shells” are actually just the bone structure of their own ribcage. Then, let’s say that Irkens later saw the loss of their heavier exocuticle, leaving behind the endoskeleton and the flexible inner (now just an outer) cuticle of what used to be an entire body shell. This could have been a gradual change, via natural selection, or it could have been another artificial mutation brought on by technology- wherein the elder brains decided the feature was less efficient and simply phased it out of the cloning process- the same as the loss of their species’ sexual organs.

But, you’re thinking, why on Irk would the loss of an entire badass armor layer be beneficial to their fitness? Few reasons- For one, they are cumbersome and limiting. The downgrade on freedom of movement and flexibility they would be for a bipedal humanoid is self-explanatory enough. When it came to structural integrity, the inner skeleton would have already done a well job with little modification. For all the protection they provide, they don’t leave much room for expansion, and need to be shed in order for the animal to grow any further or to recover from certain injuries. The process of molting itself would be an excruciating process for any intelligent species to have to endure; one that also temporarily leaves the critter in a very vulnerable and stressed state for every molt. To advance from more primitive origins into a dominant race, manual dexterity and mobility would have to take a front seat over a small amount of modest defenses, and mind you, Irk long ago woulda managed to compensate for that loss in the form of advanced weaponry (obviously).

I’m also of the mind that the shift away from an exoskeleton could have even been the key to allowing the Irkens to even grow to the size they are now. Recall back to Part One for a second, where I shared the likely case for Irk having a massive bulk behind its gravity field. Gravity is a hard thing on any skeletal structure, representing a constant strain to be fought against when moving, growing, and bearing weight .There’s a lot of factors behind why we don’t have horse sized spiders or elephant sized lobsters IRL, and weight is actually one of them. Notice how terrestrial isopods only get about to the size of a bean, but the aquatic ones can top out at over a foot long? And that’s only having Earth’s level of gravity to struggle against, let alone however harsh the conditions would be on a larger planet. So, there’s my framework for explaining what I think the aliens’ cuticle is not; however, what does that mean for what it is, besides “feels and looks like a grub’s”?

Well, look again at some of the extraordinary things it can do.

Cooties Immunity

“Germs” was a memorable episode that posed a very legitimate question to the viewer. Why IS IT that foreign pathogens aren’t a bigger concern for the invaders? They’re literally sent off to other worlds to blend in: Socializing with the native inhabitants, eating their foods, and living in an alien habitat. In the case of an undiscovered rock like Earth, our infectious diseases would have no reference available to the Armada whatsoever. Sure, species incompatibility would provide some protection, but the risk of something carrying over and adapting is always still there. Zoonoptic jumps happen all the time with bacteria and viruses, and Zim’s body temperature IS in the normal human range. And what about fungal pathogens, or parasites-

Oh, wait, the lice episode gave it away right there.

I love this sequence so much, because it’s coincidentally like, an exact “art imitates life” parallel to something a real species of primate does. Black lemurs live in the same area of Madagascar as these vibrant, red millipedes.

The millipedes are special because when threatened, they secrete a poisonous substance from their skin. The lemurs are special because they like to grab the bugs and nibble them for no other reason than to make them release those toxins. Those chemicals are then rubbed into their fur, because somehow the lemurs figured out it makes a really handy mosquito repellant. The lemurs also like to get completely zonked out on the chemicals too but eyy- Point was it stands to reason that Irkens may also secrete small amounts of their own potent toxin from the cuticle, perhaps for more hygienic than defensive purposes. This secretion would be responsible for protecting them from parasites and topical infections. Could it also make people blazed out of their minds? …Maybe? I think I’d like to promote the “Just Say No” policy on the matter of licking aliens, though. Ffs at least ask them out to dinner first.

When it comes to other kinds of sick, looks like it might be the trusty old PAK to the rescue here again. I imagine that, being an intergalactic, partially mechanical civilization, the Irken race has come down this road enough to put in a workaround. A standard PAK contains the entirety of the population’s collective knowledge/history- which would include a catalog of all known infectious agents they have encountered across the universe. Some kind of nanobot-bolstered immune system that could detect and respond appropriately to new threats isn’t out of the question, nor should a feature that can automatically administer the appropriate medicine directly into the wearer’s bloodstream. For all this awesomeness, nonetheless, there remains a downside or two that they haven’t quite conquered..

The Meaty, Sweety, Mending of DOOM

Anyone ever actually think about how as far as resilience is concerned, Zim is practically an X-man compared to any Earthling? He has regenerative capabilities that surpass anything else on earth, save idk, bamboo shoots, if even. Injuries that would leave a human permanently disabled only seem to incapacitate an Irken for a few hours to a day at most. They’re all the more tough to put out of commission when considering that a PAK doubles as a form of backup life support, ready to “soft reboot” the host with a quick jolt if it detects a sudden drop in vital signs. It is tempting to credit the same device as the source of this healing boost as well, teasing the nanobot suggestion again; however, I see a chance instead to bring this back a step.

Although not as quick-acting as Zim, or Skoodge’s healing, there are some remarkable examples of regeneration in real arthropods, from repairing tissues/organs to replacing entire lost limbs. What the aliens are packing doesn’t seem all that different, only refined (through years of bioengineering) to work at a truly frightening efficiency. It shows through in their diet as well. Almost always, if we see a member of this species eating on screen, and believe me there was no shortage of examples, what are we watching them shovel their face with?

Space doughnuts, space popcorn, space Fun-Dip, sodas, and curly fries. Sure, there’s plenty of calories here, no doubt with the amount of carbs and grease that could even turn the stomach of a college freshman, but is this… nutrition?

Yes. Just not for us.

Like their civilization, we have also turned the mass production of sweet-packed, fat loaded foods into one of our favored art forms, and there are scattered pockets of our planet that can enjoy these items in cheap abundance. The catch 22? Obesity and heart disease. Meanwhile, Irkens are so metabolically blessed that they can follow the same lifestyle and actually be thriving by it. We know that the majority of human food is utterly toxic to Zim, but then there were waffles, a literal stack of dessert and butter that pretends to be a breakfast…. Our guy was experiencing the “finally some good fucking food” meme from the first bite off that plate, but this can’t seriously be healthy,or if it is, then how?

Well, if I did sell you on the idea that much of their tissues and skeleton swaps out a chitin base where we would be using protein, there you go. Sugars for the building blocks to synthesize the connective/structural tissues for maintaining the body, and the bulk of the energy required to keep it running. And I won’t make the leap and suggest that’s all they have.

After all, the Irken equivalent of sandwiches do actually seem to contain “lettuce” and something that people will say looks like meat slices while not convincing me. I can get behind the thought of the natural or maybe original Irken diet to be a mix of plant matter and supplemental fungi, but everything I’ve put together implies that they are completely unfit for processing the goodies in animal flesh.

Overwhelmingly, I believe that the only time they possibly even seek out more sources of amino acids is going to be when they are smeets. That’s how it works in many wasp species. I.e. The growing larvae are the only ones that actually get to reap from the hard work of a colony hunting down enough protein to feed them with, yet the adults live out the rest of their lives more than content to gorge themselves on nectars and fruits exclusively!

And you even could put that aside, but you’ll have to grapple with the ungodly thing that happens every single time you see Zim touching a piece of meat. Would be awfully convenient to blame it on his personal brand of weirdness, or earth contaminants, but we remember this was a weakness that Tak approached fully aware of and expecting.

We know that polluted water can burn them. We know that beans and other foods can give them grotesque allergic reactions. Well what in the horrifying name of Resident Evil is this, though? Buddy pals, I think we got some unintended consequences of that bio-hacking on hand. Collagen and chitin aren’t just functionally similar to each other, they are practically analogous building blocks.

For a WILD science fact, consider that there’s a ton of ongoing research into the application of chitin and chitin-derivatives into having a role in tissue engineering, as a hypothetical scaffold in lab cultured meat, and as an effective wound dressing ingredient.

What we’re seeing with incidents like Dib throwing that Bologna at Zim could be an extreme form of the vise versa, because I know a certain protein that processed meat happens to be pretty high in :)))

Imagine the coupling of this with the bioengineered genome of Zim’s kind being so… reactive to a foreign intrusion, yet also flexible to modification. Maybe it is the acids, or some contaminant/seasoning on the meat that first damages the cuticle. That healing ability kicks in, but doesn’t stop where chitin does, readily binding to and with the collagens in these strange tissues that are sorta like an Irken’s but also just enough not like an Irken’s that it also kicks the immune system into overdrive. Think of all the pain and inflammation of a poison ivy rash but if the damn plant itself could also fuse itself with whatever you brushed against it. I think Zim actually had an understandable reason to be homicidally pissed off for that Bologna assault. Also how the Bologna virus was accelerated in Zim’s body. Once it had incorporated itself into his own DNA, it was game set and match with the speed and help those cells had to replicate themselves.

And uh, yeah, I think this post has gotten about as long as it reasonably should be here. I did have a couple more points I really wanted to get out of my brain about the Almighty Tallest, and I think that would be a good launching point actually for a possible (and hopefully final jfc) part three to this. Till then I got some off-topic scoliids to taxidermy 👀

#invader zim #iz fandom #irkens #xenobiology #iz #scarlet talks about things #long post #we hyperfixating #absolute ramblings i mean holy crap #cool bug facts #sci fi

218 notes · View notes

etherealyoungk · 8 months

Note

Hiya Skye! Thoughts of going grocery shopping/to the convenience store with any member of your choice? Super cute and casual domestic vibes ygm 🥹

hello! i love domestic thoughts ugh here you go!

hoshi comes back to the aisle where you're grabbing some bread. you turn over to look at him and he looks absolutely defeated. "baby? what's wrong?", you ask because he was in such a good mood earlier. "they ran out of frosted flakes", he says with a significant pout. "so? just get a different cereal", you tell, putting the bread into the cart and moving along the aisle. "but i wanted frosted flakes", he says. "there's others that taste the same hoshi, it doesn't matter", you reason.

"it does! because frosted flakes has the tiger", he says and now you get it. you look at him and you can't help but chuckle. "what?", he asks, confused, the frown still on his face.

"you only want the frosted flakes because of tony the tiger on it?", you ask and he nods like it's the most normal thing. "fine we'll go to the other mart and see if they have it then?", you prompt and he picks up his head. "really?", he says, hopeful. "of course, i can't have my tiger sulking now can i", you tell and he pecks your cheek.

"but first help me with this list genius", you add as he nearly crushes you in a hug. "alright, give me that to me, i'll get all the dairy stuff", he says and he's off, this time with a skip in his step. this is why you loved him. he was silly but he was yours <3

#ahh no i actually love how this turned out stop it im so soft #skye's writing #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen drabbles #seventeen soft hours #seventeen x reader #hoshi imagines #hoshi fluff #hoshi x reader #hoshi scenarios #hoshi drabble #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt soft hours #svt scenarios #svt x reader

196 notes · View notes

sapphicseasapphire · 1 month

Note

I’m wondering if any of the chain members have any dietary restrictions and if so how do they deal with food while travelling I’d imagine some wouldn’t exactly need to eat ( wars, wild and time) but also most of the other might need to have different diets then the typical hylian. ( honestly only twilight and maybe four might be the only with a more typical diet)

This is a great question, and one that I’ve thought about at length. Sorry I took so long to respond, I’m so incredibly busy with my classes! I hope this answer is sufficient haha! (Under the cut because long)

Wild: Surprisingly, he does need to eat! Just, not for the reasons that you or I do. Wild does not feel hungry. His body does not consume energy (it’s not… physical, really). But his magic is based in the natural world, so if he’s hurt, he must strengthen bonds to nature. The easiest way to do this is to ingest things that come from nature. So like… any food ever. He gets hurt a lot (the little chaos gremlin) so he tends to eat a lot! And he may be a silly little guy, but he has standards. He’s an excellent cook, surprisingly.

Wars: Doesn’t eat. Can’t eat. Is a sword.

Time: Time doesn’t need to eat, but after spending his life as a mortal, it’s a pretty tough habit to break! He’s nostalgic about food, almost. While he doesn’t feel hungry, he doesn’t typically feel full, either. So eating won’t make him sick or anything. If he smells something tasty, he’d ask for a serving! Other than that, he doesn’t have any dietary restrictions.

Hyrule: Vegetarían! And he LOVES sweet things. He fills up on berries and then will go days without eating again- it doesn’t take much to sustain his little body. (Like Wild, he’s not exactly physical, either. Most of his body mass is just magic). Sugar water? His favorite. Jelly? He loves. He’s such a little guy, I love him.

Sky: Pescatarian! As Link, he was vegetarian, but Aepon really liked fish. To this day, Sky’s favorite meal is pumpkin and fish soup, which is a weird combination. But Pipit made it for him once and it’s been his favorite ever since! (A combination of Link and Aepon’s favorites). He’s not against eating meat but his body isn’t really equipped to handle it. Same with dairy- but no one knew that until they gave him a bunch of milk after hearing that he has fragile bones. He is morally against eating eggs.

Legend: He has to absolutely douse all of his meals with a bunch of salt or he’ll die, but he’s vibing. He prefers seafood, but he’s been living on land (and has traveled enough) to be able to stomach the plants that grow above water. He has even developed a preference for certain meats. He’ll take whatever he’s given, usually, and add his own salt haha.

Ravio: Literally the exact same as Legend. (Except he’s been neglecting the salt thing for pretty much his whole life. Someone help him, he’s not doing well).

Wind: Literally the exact same as Legend and Ravio, except he doesn’t need all the salt supplementation… at least not nearly to the same extent.

Four: Eats a typical diet! Nothing really to say here. Typical three meals a day, meat and vegetables and dairy and all that. Four will mix their food before eating, which the others might find odd. They prefer to have everything in every bite. Soups are good haha!

Twilight: Typical diet. He eats meat and vegetables and dairy and all that jazz. Lots of protein. He eats… more than you’d expect, and that’s because he has different forms to maintain. It doesn’t cost him anything to shift- it takes no energy- but if he only eats enough for a Hylian, he won’t be able to last long as a wolf or another large animal.

This post might offer some more insight!

#the legend of zelda #chain as cryptids au #i answered question #cryptid lore #cryptid four #cryptid ravio #cryptid legend #cryptid time #cryptid sky #cryptid twilight #cryptid hyrule #cryptid warriors #cryptid wind #cryptid wild #AGH THE LITTLE GUYS #I love them!!#links meet au

56 notes · View notes

gainerstories · 9 months

Text

Dispatches: Spring Break

Portland, OR / April 10th / Dorm Room

Hugo awoke from his nap plastered in jizz, chocolate syrup, and ice cream. He was already hard again, his erection comfortably sandwiched between his expansive thighs and ballooning gut. He started jerking absentmindedly but then remembered he had to save his loads for when he was stuffing. He always ate more when he was horny.

He lurched out of bed, his stomach sloshing with an unholy combination of cafeteria food, Boost VHC, and ice cream. He burped and rubbed his stomach, fingering the four stretch marks around his belly. He was determined to add a fifth and sixth by the time spring break was over and his roommate returned to the dorm.

After rinsing off in the shower he pulled on a size small T-shirt. Hugo had never fit into a small. His pig brain took one night and he ordered it online whilst fapping. It was the perfect shirt to wear to the grocery store. A solid two, maybe three, inches of belly fat hung free beneath the hem. Some gray sweatpants showed off his half chubbed dick and caked up ass. A denim jacket that could no longer button accentuated his protuberant gut.

Wobbling to the market on foot Hugo relished the stares his exposed overhang garnered. This was the only exercise he got without any classes. He was at the grocery store nearly every day, racking up charges parents’ credit card. The swoosh of the automatic doors felt like the embrace of an old friend as his eyes lit up at the aisles of food waiting to fatten him up.

He grabbed a cart and started in the frozen food section. Pizza, chicken wings, pasta, you name it. His criteria when shopping: does it look good and is it fattening. He moved on to ice cream, multiple tubs, and then alcohol. He tended to stick with boxed wine because it was cheap and went down easy. Next was the dairy aisle, his favorite. Butter, whole milk, heavy cream, whipped cream, sour cream, they all made it into his cart. This was usually when people started to stare.

He knew what he looked like. A young fat white slob whose clothes didn’t even fit him, gorging himself on dairy and junk food outside of his parents’ watchful eyes. People regarded him with shock and disgust, sometimes pity. He relished every moment.

After a long meander down the snack food aisle and a quick detour through produce just for show, Hugo went to the register. The cashier awkwardly rang up the food while trying not to look at Hugo’s exposed lard, hairy and hanging heavy with stretch marks. The total was nearly two hundred dollars and at that moment he realized he had forgotten his personal cart for the walk home. Hugo was blighted with carrying all of this home by hand, unless…

He pulled out his phone and ordered a rideshare. It was only three blocks, but what was a fat boy supposed to do? Go home empty handed? Or worse, burn all the calories it would take to carry this back himself?

The rideshare driver regarded Hugo with more disgust than anyone at the grocery store. With the backseat filled with groceries, Hugo sat in the front. He made a show of breathing heavy and scratching at his stretch marks, even burping a couple times on purpose. The driver could barely contain himself when Hugo asked for help unloading the groceries. He still obliged.

Hugo’s room was dark and dingy, covered in take out containers, smelling of dick. “Fuckin’ pig” the driver muttered under his breath when he first walked in. When they were finished, he looked directly at the soft roll of flesh hanging over Hugo’s elastic pants and said “hit the gym, man.”

Hugo shut the door and cracked a Boost.

Read the rest here

#gainer stories #weight gain #chubby chaser #chubby guy #weight gain fiction #gay gainer #gay bear #ex jock #gay weight gain

366 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Text

Unsolicited 6

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, more dark elements to come.

Wouldn’t mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

Your hangover pounds in your temples as you move slowly, stiffly dropping armfuls of clothing into the boxes. A careless delve into the years of possessions, of items that mean nothing now, packed into trash bags and piled into your car. The drive to the secondhand store feels like eternity.

You linger in the lot. Going home means you have to answer the question. What now? You’ll just waste time until work.

That day is longer than the last. You go through your checklist numbly. You don’t think, just do.

As you peel off your rubber gloves, you hear Lloyd’s mocking tone echoing in your mind. He must’ve laughed his ass off watching you slink out like an injured dog. You quickly toss your things in the bucket and haul it out of the closet, your feet carrying you without a thought.

You cry in the car, circling the block as you put off returning to the house. You don’t go back. You take the turn towards the expressway as you get yourself together. The mall is packed, it’s evening. The food court is rowdy with teenagers and whole families, the early tidings of December waft in the air.

You enter the shop and go to the jewelry counter. You put the box on the glass and look up at the associate. It’s not Kelsey. Gina, the title manager cut under her name, greets you with a hesitant smile.

“I’d like to return this,” you announce.

“Oh, yes,” she takes the box and goes to the till, “and do you have the receipt?”

You pause. It’s in your glovebox. You could go out and get it. You’re tired.

“I got the warranty, can you look me up by that?”

“Sure,” she says as she types, “what date did you buy this? Do you have the card you used for the purchase?”

You go through the motions, swipe your card so your information comes up. You wait as she reads the screen. The money will be a good start to get the fuck out.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, you’re past the return window.”

“What?” You gulp, “but… it’s been two weeks.”

“Three,” she corrects you, “unfortunately our holiday policy hasn’t started yet. We can offer store credit only.”

“Store credit?” You sigh, “thanks but… thank you. It’s not your fault, I–”

“You could exchange. Maybe, a necklace or–”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t need jewelry,” you take the watch, “thanks.”

You leave and look around the crowded mall as you make your way blindly along. A pawnshop might be able to get you back half what you paid. Still, that hardly helps. You sit on a bench, opposite an old lady with her walker. You take out your phone and connect to the iffy public wifi.

Your eyes nearly bulge out as you peruse local listings. You can barely afford to rent out a single room meant for college kids. You could live in your car but where? That’s sketchy, and illegal. You couldn’t afford the fine and you have little faith in not being found out.

You flip over to your Facebook. All your friends are married with kids. You haven’t talked in years either. Crashing on a couch is out of the question. You could wait, plot, live with your husband like nothing is wrong and put away money, like you have been. Pick up shift or take his advice and get a better job.

You don’t know. None of it will be easy. You put your head in your hands. Fuck.

You’re not going to have a breakdown in the mall. You get up and put the watch in your purse. You dig out some change and wait in line at the Dairy Queen. What’s another calorie splurge? You take your blizzard and weave your way through the bodies towards the closest exit.

You eat your ice cream in front of your steering wheel. It’s cold. Why did you think ice cream was a good idea? Well, you have the best ones, don’t you? Marrying Colin? That was really fucking smart.

Your phone vibes. You ignore it. Again. Three times more before you give in. It’s Colin. You don’t answer. Fuck him! FUCK HIM! You drop the empty cup on the next seat and hit the steering wheel.

You can’t stay. You won’t. You have some shred of dignity left. You look at yourself in the rearview and wipe away the errant smear of chocolate from the corner of your lips. Dignity? Pride? What is all that?

The engine rumbles after choking out cold air. You shift into gear and pull out, following the other shoppers towards the street. Your damn phone is going off again. You could smash it but it may just be the only thing you have left of value.

You surpass the expressway, too addled to take the high speed lanes. You feel a shaking in the axel. It’s usual. This old thing quakes whenever the weather shakes. As you turn off, a dinging and flashing light assaults you. You curse. Not right now.

There’s a knocking, like grinding and you quickly signal to get to the apron of the road. The engine dies before you can shut it off. You push yourself back in your seat and scream. Why? Why right now? Why you? Why does it all have to always be shit?

You lean your head on the wheel and whimper. You’d be better off freezing to death as the unconcerned drivers pass you by. You stay as you are, thinking of the bill from the mechanic, how many decimal places this time?

A beep comes from behind you, curt. You pop your head up and glance in the mirror. You crane around entirely to gape at the blue Lexus. The door snaps shut as the tall figure emerges and marches up the gravel. No. No! Noooooooo!

You turn the keys and your engine sputters before giving out again. You give it another try as Lloyd raps on the window with his knuckles. You snarl and keep trying until nothing happens. Until you’re forced to give up.

You sit back as he keeps tapping. You roll the window down with the crank, keeping your eyes ahead.

“What do you want?” You mutter.

“I’m thinking more than a handie for this one,” he chortles.

“Go away.”

Your phone lines up as it vibrates against the other seat. You turn it over and grip the wheel, as if you can will the car back to life. Lloyd stays, looming in the window.

“Well, tell me you got the money back for the watch. I’m sure that can cover some of it, huh–”

“Don’t–”

“Shit, has it been too long?”

“Stop.”

“Well, I mean, you could try a loan. You got good credit?” He sucks his teeth, “driving around this beater, I’m sure you have a shining record.”

“Enough.”

“Or a personal loan…” he suggests, “I might know someone–”

“I said stop!” You smack his hand as it rests in the window, “leave me alone. I don’t want your help. I don’t want you around me. Are you not happy? You destroyed everything–”

“Me? I’m not the one fucking another woman–”

“Shut up!”

“No, no, toots, you listen, I’m tryna tell you something,” he bends down to look you in the face as you slowly turn to him, “I hate to admit it but you take a look under my belt and you’ll see it for yourself.”

“Oh, don’t even–”

“Hey, a man is a man and I gotta say sometimes I even confound myself,” he smirks, “if the old man doesn’t want it, well, damn if I do. And don’t you worry, I got more than enough to fill the order–”

“No, go.”

“What are you gonna do?” He cups his chin, “can’t live in this thing now. I know cleaning up paper clips and coffee stains isn’t gonna pay the rent either. Or maybe, you’ll keep fucking the husband and he can pretend your her–”

You suck in air and sneer at the windshield. You punch the wheel, once, twice, a third time and your hand throbs. Your phone buzzes on and on and on like some sort of phantom of irony.

“Tell you what, I’ll pay the tow fee and get you home for the night. Tomorrow, we’ll negotiate terms.”

“Why are you doing this?” You grit out.

He scoffs and reaches to tickle your jaw, “all you had to do was cry for me. You still will, but this way will be more fun.”

#lloyd hansen x reader #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #drabble series #au #the grey man #the gray man #unsolicited

589 notes · View notes

kireijae · 2 years

Text

ljn. 16:47pm

pairing: model!jeno x reader

genre: nonidol!au, model!jeno, fluff, hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings: reader has Insecurities but i tried not to make it annoying and immature lol, mentions of alcohol, trust issues, allusions to cheating/jealousy but not heavy at all, happy ending because i cannot do sad endings i hate them

a/n: i thought of a timestamp for jeno the hoe finally. it’s based off his nyfw escapades obvi. i also made a sabrina carpenter joke bc i had to but don’t come at me bc i love her and have actually never listened to driver’s license jfjfjd. also ignore the time thing here w flights and shit time isn’t real anyways. aaaaandd no editing bc suck my dick and also it’s over 1k words okay enjoy!

♡‧₊˚ ↴

this was not an ideal time to be grocery shopping. it was the middle of the afternoon on a day that couldn’t decide what season it was in. you’d run out of kimchi and milk. a strange combination. so you’d gone to the small grocery store on the corner of your apartment complex. the sun was bright orange, casting strange rays through the white fluffy clouds.

the grocery store was empty except for the teller and a kid who was obviously skipping school to eat ramen and…cry? understandable honestly.

your outfit was fucked to say the least; an old crop top, faded jeans that were too far gone to be fashionable and the first sneakers you found. you’d only just managed to shower and do all the basic hygiene things. no product in your hair and a star shaped pimple sticker on your right cheek. the previous night had been rough. a party at your friend’s house had turned into comforting another friend during a drunken breakdown as well as a slight cold in the morning due to the combination of freezing night air and your barely-there outfit the night before.

you stood zoning out in front of the dairy section for a few minutes before you heard a voice next to you.

“contemplating the ethics of consuming animal products?” it was jeno. fuck it was jeno.

the guy you’d been talking to. the guy you’d had a crush on since the first day you met him in a shitty club in the middle of seoul. the guy you’d found out was a famous model the night before when you were scrolling through twitter and holding your friend’s hair as she threw up. that jeno.

you huffed out a laugh. “i had a rough night last night.”

“too much to drink?” he questioned.

you looked over at him. his hair held the remnants of gel and hairspray, making it look ruffled up in the best way possible. his face was bare, though the skin around his eyes was red, likely from taking off the makeup he had on the previous day.

“more like not enough,” you replied and reached over to finally grab the milk you’d come to get in the first place. “how was new york?”

he chuckled. “so you don’t text me back but you do stalk me?” his smile nearly pushed his eyes shut, as usual. how had you not guessed he was a model?

you were suddenly overly aware of your appearance. the bright purple jacket you stole from your mom and the orange on your yoga past clashed. the crop top you wore was sagging in random places from a few too many washing cycles. no make up, hair puffier than ever and not in a good way.

“i did not stalk you,” you narrowed your eyes at him, though a guilty tone took over your voice. “i just have the twitter app installed.”

you moved passed him to grab a tub of kimchi from the opposite side of the isle. unfortunately for you, he followed you.

“new york was okay,” he answered nonchalantly. he was much more focused on who was in front of him than he was on the previous night’s work. “i missed your texts though.”

“i was busy—”

“so was i,” he interrupted, “but i waited for you anyways.”

“jeno,” you started, ready to have to break the pathetic news to him.

“is it because i didn’t tell you?” he dropped his head, training his eyes on the tiles beneath him.

“no— though, that didn’t help—”

“i’m sorry,” he said it immediately. as though it was word vomit. “i don’t like to tell people. i’m sort of weird about it i—”

finally you chose to cut him off. “it’s a mixture of things. i’m insecure and i’m needy. i get jealous over random shit even if i know it’s stupid.”

you paused, gathering your thoughts. and jeno stood there waiting for you.

“i just don’t think us taking this any further would be good emotionally— for either of us,” you continued, “it’d hurt me and then i’d hurt you.”

jeno stood there in silence, his gaze finally meeting yours again as he looked up.

“i know you,” he said simply, “we’ve been talking for three months.”

that shocked you. had it really been three months? and you hadn’t known about this huge part of his life?

“i know you,” he said again, “and i’m more than happy to be with you. i don’t care how needy you think you are because i need you more.”

how did he manage to keep shocking you today?

“and i don’t care how jealous you think you can get because i’d only ever think about you,” he continued, but your sigh after his words brought him to a stop again.

“it’s not that i wouldn’t trust you. i would— i do,” you said, your eyebrows were furrowed in pain as you spoke. “i don’t trust my feelings. they don’t follow any sort of logic.”

“of course they do,” he nearly raised his voice. “feelings follow logic even if it’s not yours.”

“so you’re saying i should feel jealous seeing you with that blonde girl?”

“i’m saying that i won’t ever give you a reason to feel that way,” he sounded as if he was pleading with you, “i’m saying you’re all i see, and i’m going to do everything in my power to make you believe that.”

“jeno, that’s not fair to you.”

“in the last three months have you ever felt as though all my attention wasn’t on you?” his eyes were pleading now, too. shining with hope.

you were silent for a moment. you reflected on the time you’d spent talking to jeno and going on unofficial dates with him. meeting his friends, his sister, running errands with him. not once had you felt as if he valued anyone else more than you. it’s one of the biggest reasons you liked him so much. he showed you the same amount of affection you felt for him.

“no,” you answered plainly. you’d given in to what jeno wanted— and what you wanted.

“then let me carry on proving to you how much you mean to me, please,” he took your free hand in his, stroking it with his thumb.

you nodded your head, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

“c’mon,” he pulled you to his chest and wrapped his arms around you. his scent was fresh and comforting. you closed your eyes as he held you, letting his presence flood your mind. “let me pay for this and we can go watch a movie at my place. i have a lot of funny stories from last night if you want to hear.”

you lifted your head and placed your chin on jeno’s chest, looking up at him. “what kind of stories?”

“well, most of them involve me barely understanding a word of english.”

♡‧₊˚

#jeno x reader #jeno imagines #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno scenarios #jeno drabbles #lee jeno #jeno #nct dream #nct #jeno x y/n #jeno oneshot #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno imagines

699 notes · View notes

somethingclevermahogony · 2 months

Text

The Regions of Kishetal

Pictured Above: An environmental map of the land of Kishetal

Pictured Above: A map of the 7 Kishic Regions

Pictured Above: A map of the Kishic City-States and their territories

Pictured Above: A map of Significant Stable Forestfolk Populations

Here is a quick overview of the regions of Kishetal, the homeland of Narul and Ninma. And some good ol' maps. I'll be posting in the future about some of the creatures and forestfolk mentioned below!

As always send questions please!

Continues below the cut!

The Regions of Kishetal

1. The Red Cedar Mountains

Pictured Above: The Red Cedar Mountains near Kepfis

The Red Cedar Mountains stretch from the Shabalic Sea in the north nearly to the Sea of Agitu in the south. The Red Cedar Mountains were formed in ancient times having already been present in the Age of Metal and Glass. However, the Red Cedar Mountains are not among the eleven “Chains of Sanctuary,” those mountain ranges around the planet in which humanity sheltered from the wrath of the gods during the Calamity. The predominant underlying stone of the RCM is limestone, with occasional but significant areas and deposits of serpentinite, basalt, and dolerite. The region experiences warm summers and cold winters, often with considerable snow and rainfall, particularly at higher elevations. The Mountains surround Lake Shebali, which acts as an inland sea and a source of food and transport for much of eastern Kishetal. At lower elevations, such as Labisa, the predominant vegetation is juniper and oak. Forests of black pine, cedar, and fir are dominant and common at higher elevations. The highest peaks are home to alpine meadows. Wild grapes, figs, and olives are all abundant in this region alongside their domesticated cousins.

Some fauna include wolves, jackals, wild goats, giant minks, wild bulls(aurochs), leopards, kishic lions, kishic tigers, caracals, roe deer, gazelle, wild boar, eagles, storks, horned rabbits, kishic brown bears, lynxes, and kishic ibex.

Very rarely found is the Kishic Elephant, actually a species of mammoth, these tiny pachyderms are about the same size as the average dairy cow. Only about 100 still survive in sheltered valleys to the north.

Examples of monstrous and magical Fauna including Flesh-eating deer, kiriki, dorasi, and the kutiri. While there are rumors of larger monsters such as dragons, these are mostly little more than legends and folklore. Though there is no telling what creatures could be hiding in the many caves and tunnels which dot the mountains.

There are numerous small forestfolk tribes which live in isolated areas.

(I will post more about that later)

2. The Felic Plain

Pictured Above: The Felic Plain north of Boshalum

The Felic Plains primarily consist of grassland with occasional patches of deciduous forest. The area is famed for its almond trees and its many wildflowers, including wild roses and hasir flowers. During the fall, great patches of the plains turn red with the blooming of hasir flowers.

The region experiences hot summers and mild but wet winters, which makes the region ideal for farming. As such, the Felic Plains act as the bread-basket of Kishetal. The region is split by the Aratshin River, which extends from Lake Shebali to the Green Sea. The plains are disrupted by an especially dense forested area known as the Garden. All attempts to settle the Garden have failed.

Fauna include, wolves, jackals, gazelles, wild bulls, kishic lions, deer, eagles, storks, horned rabbits, kishic brown bears, foxes, wild goats, polecats( which are popular pets), felic falcons, and hyenas.

The plains are home to several monstrous/magical species, including Flesh-eating deer, garudu, takmek, and the Unturu Serpent.

There are a handul of forestfolk tribes as well as a single hillfolk tribe in this region.

3. The Western Coast

Pictured Above: The Western Coast near the city-state of Chibal

The Western Coast borders the Green Sea stretching from Bura in the north to Bisabal in the south. The ecoregion has a warm semi-tropical climate akin to a Mediterranean climate. Winter is the wettest season, and summer is the driest.

The Western coast consists primarily of three biomes. The deciduous forests in the north consist primarily of hornbeams, oaks, maples, cedar, and black pine. The central marshlands surrounding Udur have heavy concentrations of reeds, papyrus, poplar, and willow. The southern plains are similar to the Felic plain region though typically arider. Bay, olive, carob, and sweetgum are all common in this region. The Green Sea and its coast are home to many kinds of edible seaweed which form an essential part of the Chibalic and Buric diets.

Fauna include wild boars, foxes, jackals, wolves, badgers, wildcats, coastal brown bears, gazelles, deer, wild bulls, wild goats, and storks. Marine life includes dolphins, seals, whales, sea turtles, and many species of fish.

Monstrous fauna include bulari, sea-dragons, serpents, krinari, and ramitalek.

Aside from Ikopeshi's there are no surviving forestfolk tribes in this region.

4. The Northern Coast/Sheprian Forest

Pictured Above: The Sheprian Forest near Shepra

The Sheprian forest in the northern part of Kishetal is primarily composed of deciduous trees with occasional conifer patches at areas with higher elevations. Common trees include oak, chestnut, birch, hornbeam, black pine, cedar, and beech.

The climate is temperate with warm dry summers and cold wet winters. The north is typically thought of as the wildest region, with most city-states and settlements, including Shepra, clinging to the Corin river. Sheprian poetry is a unique variety of poetry, similar to the Japanese haiku, which originates from the forest festivals of the northern coast.

Fauna include wolves, jackals, gazelles, wild bulls, kishic lions, deer, eagles, storks, horned rabbits, kishic brown bears, foxes, wild goats, giant minks, horned rabbits, wild sheep, eagles, and kishic leopards.

Monstrous fauna include flesh-eating deer, garudu, kiriki, dorasi, and winged tigers.

This region contains the second highest concentration of forestfolk after the Red Cedar Mountains.

5. The Southern coast

Placed Above: The Southern Coast near Bisabal

The Southern Coast consists of three regions; the southern deciduous forest, the scrubland, and the plains. The climate in the south is quite warm, with summers being hot and dry and winters mild in both temperature and rainfall. On rare occasions, the southern coast may experience heavy snowfall.

Major cities are sparse however, many villages dot the southern coast, many of these villages rely on piracy, preying primarily on Apunian and Jezaani ships traveling to and from the Western Coast.

Limestone plateaus and outcroppings are near the border of the southern coast, and the desert are said to be the remains of ancient buildings though this is not true.

Poplar, olive, bay, carob, almond, oaks, and umbrella pine are all common.

Fauna includes wolves, jackals, gazelles, wild bulls, kishic lions, deer, eagles, storks, horned rabbits, kishic brown bears, foxes, wild goats, polecats, felic falcons, kishic leopards, and hyenas.

The south is home to relatively few monstrous/magical species though it is home to the largest population of kiriki in Kishetal.

There are only two forestfolk populations in this region.

6. The Kipsian Desert

Pictured Above: The limestone formations of the Kipsian desert south east of Kipsu.

The Kipsian desert is the least populated region of Kishetal as the arid environment is not conducive to agriculture. Ruins of older civilizations suggest that the area may have once been more hospitable.

Plant life is sparse and largely limited to hardy shrubs and grasses. The region is famous for its carob and the candies and sweets produced from the carob by its inhabitants. Mesa, plateaus, pillars, and other stone structures are common; foreign visitors often visit the region seeking religious or spiritual enlightenment amongst the arches and columns. Many never leave.

Fauna include jackals, gazelles, kishic lions, deer, gazelle, wild asses, and hyenas. The Kipsian desert is also the only region in Kishetal in which the kishic ostrich and oryx survive.

Monstrous fauna include Flesh-eating deer, takmek, sikara, kiriki, and giant lions.

There are no forestfolk populations here.

7. The Makurian Steppe

Pictured Above: The Makurian Steppe north of Shebal

The Makurian steppe is massive, spreading over most of western Masia. Only a tiny sliver of that vast extent falls in Kishetal. Trees are almost entirely absent. Vast expanses of grass-covered hills define the area. To the north of the steppe is the Shabalic forest, and to the south is the Jezaaic desert.

The heavy presence of sagebrush, sedges, and grasses and the relatively dry climate have led to a preference for a nomadic and pastoralist lifestyle. Makurian tribes regularly raid and intrude in the region, with their westward pushes typically being halted by the mountains.

Fauna include wild horses, wild asses, wild bulls, jackals, gazelle, deer, mountain sheep, macuri lions, and leopards.

Monstrous fauna include the tomob and the wulut.

There are only 3 native forestfolk populations in this region.

As always ask questions! Anything! And if y'all like this I might do this with some other regions.

@patternwelded-quill @flaneurarbiter @skyderman @blackblooms @roach-pizza @illarian-rambling @dezerex @theocticscribe @axl-ul, @persnickety-peahen @angie-j-kay

@surroundedbypearls I was looking through my intro post and I just realized I've been completely forgetting to put you in the taglist! Sorry about that!

#writeblr #writing #fantasy #worldbuilding #writer #fantasy writing #queer fantasy #fantasy world #testamentsofthegreensea #fantasy map #fantasy novel #fantasy worldbuilding #world building #narul #writblr

53 notes · View notes