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togenabi · 7 months

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the language of flowers

gojo satoru x reader (royalty au)

♡—All your life, you have been training for the role of Empress... But nothing could have prepared you to be Satoru's wife.

word count♡— 4.7k (I came back swinging y'all)

genre♡— fluff, royalty au

aged up characters♡— 18+

content notes♡— arranged marriage, romance, crown prince (maybe ooc) gojo, flowers, no use of y/n, afab!reader, ur a princess we're all princesses, minor chara oc's, mentions of my other au's, reader's father is a jerk, reader is tough but falls hard, not fully proofread

author's note♡— this took a while! september was ridiculously busy for me but I did my best with this to compensate! this is also very self indulgent, but I hope you enjoy it! xoxo, belle

As a child, you found out of your engagement to the Crown Prince by accident.

On a chilly winter's evening, you had been chasing the Royal Secretary's cat around the palace. Your father, the King, would frown upon you playing games at this hour. You should be writing essays, learning dance or banquet etiquette.

But all that can wait, you think. You've just spotted the end of a fluffy tail dart around the next corner.

When you catch up to it, the orange tabby is curiously peering into a room—whose grand double doors are slightly ajar. Eyes widening, you quicken your steps but make sure to minimize any sound. The last thing you needed was to be spotted skirting your duties right in front of the King's study.

You let out a huff of relief once you've gently picked up the cat, your arms hugging it to your chest.

Just as you're about to sneak away, however, you hear your name.

From the gap in the door, streams of golden light pour out; contrasting with the darkness of the hallway. The silhouettes of your father and his Secretary leave shadowed patterns on the floor.

You listen, as these silhouettes plan your future without you.

“Ha!” The King bellows. “My daughter. Empress. I never thought I'd see the day.”

Your heart stutters. What?

“When will you inform her, Your Majesty?”

The shadow on the painted tiles waves a hand dismissively as your father does.

“I'll leave that to you, Montgomery. Tell her that she should be honored.”

Heavy footsteps sound as he paces. “It was concerning to have a daughter as a firstborn. I knew she couldn't be made to rule what I've built, but I'll finally have a steady pawn in The Empire once she's sent away.”

Pain shoots into you. Your eyes begin to sting. You had always known your brother was the favorite despite all the hard work you've put in, but to be spoken of as a pawn... Could it be that you have not worked hard enough?

You suddenly remember where you are. Remember how slacking off brought you here. Heartbroken, you hug the cat tighter.

The words your father speak as you walk away deepens the dagger in your chest.

“Do not settle for anything less than perfect for her coursework. She's to be Empress, after all.”

On that chilly winter's evening, your heart froze over like the snow-covered branches looming outside.

...

Several years later.

The carriage goes over a bump in the road, but you do not show discomfort or act without grace. Your expression is controlled and your posture is correct as you balance yourself.

Across from you, Secretary Mont holds a newspaper up, the front page faces you as he reads. Large bold letters take up the entire upper half of the paper:

‘CITIZENS QUESTION IF EMPRESS-TO-BE IS WORTHY OF THE CROWN PRINCE’

You scoff. It makes Mont meet your gaze over the paper before flipping it; he frowns disapprovingly at the front-most article.

“Do not mind them, Your Highness.” He folds the paper and sets it aside—as if it would help prove his point. “The people are not used to your presence yet, but they will be. They will see how you are the perfect choice for Empress.”

The Princess is power hungry, someone who was interviewed had said. You wanted the Empire for yourself, apparently.

Jealous. Vain. Possessive. Dramatic.

Shifting your gaze to the window, you contemplate what you had done to garner such a negative image. Could you have done anything differently?

Your father's face appears in your mind's eye. That same ever-present scowl on his face as he says you should do better. You should be grateful. You should be nothing less than what you've been preparing all these years for. Everything must be perfect.

The Imperial Palace comes into view. It stands high and grand, shining under the bright midday sun. The cloudless blue sky above it makes the scene picturesque.

After the wedding in four months, it is to be your new home.

The Imperial Princess, your betrothed's younger sister, greets you when you arrive. You curtsy to each other, and she surprises you by reaching out to take your hands in hers. She gives them a firm yet friendly squeeze.

“I'm pleased to welcome you, my sister-to-be.” She beams, and you return the look with your own small, composed smile.

“I am honored to be here. Thank you for taking the time to receive me personally.” You gently lower your hands, letting her go.

She leads you inside, passing lines of palace staff as you enter.

“Congratulations on your own engagement, by the way.” You say honestly. After assessing her for a moment, you carefully remark, “I hear you and Prince Toge are quite happy.”

“We are.” She nods, smile glowing even more at the mention of her beloved. “Please allow me to say that I hope you and my brother find your own happiness, despite the ‘political arrangement’ of it all.”

“I thank you for your well-wishes.”

“Would you like an escort to your chambers?” The Princess offers once you reach a grand curving staircase.

“If you have other duties, I will not keep you.” You give her a bow, the ends of your dress brushing the polished marble flooring.

“Very well.” She nods. “A servant will inform you when dinner is ready.”

Gathering your skirt, you make your way up the steps to the east wing, where the guest chambers are.

Your eyes find the path to the west wing, where the royal families' rooms can be found. Soon enough, you would be heading there instead of east. Hopefully, the Prince will be amicable to live with.

The chambers reserved for you are exactly how you remember them. It's spotless and feels homey despite you only visiting a few times a year.

This is the only place you can be truly alone. Your father, try as he might, has no power here.

You step towards the balcony, opening the glass doors that lead outside. The wind caresses your skin like a soft kiss to your cheek, and you take a deep breath to savor it.

Four months.

That's all you have left. Four months of freedom here.

Another breeze passes. It carries with it a tiny dandelion wisp. Catching it almost feels like holding onto air, and yet it is there between your fingers. Small and weighing nothing, but there nonetheless.

For such a small thing, it strengthens your resolve.

You're not here for freedom. You're here to be Empress. And that's all that matters. You will not let anything get under your skin and interfere with your responsibilities.

...

So you said, only to find yourself in a very unexpected situation.

Dinner was uneventful, your only gripe was that your betrothed was not present. You had hoped to show everyone that you got along well... Even if you've only really spoken a handful of times.

However, once you returned to your chambers, you spot the balcony door open once more. Beyond it, looking out at the view of the city, was the Crown Prince himself.

You try not to let your unpreparedness get to you. Bowing respectfully, you greet him. “Good evening, Your Highness. May I ask what brings you here?”

The Prince turns to you, crossing one ankle over the other as he casually leans on the balcony.

“There you are.” Satoru says, his head tilting as he observes you.

You eye him warily, trying to decipher his intentions. If he wanted to see you, he could have simply shown up to dinner. “What are you doing?”

He steps forward. You step back. “Is it a crime to want time alone with my—”

Sighing, you should have expected him to want more time with the future—

“—wife?”

The word knocks the wind out of you.

Of all the names you have been called, ‘wife’ is a new addition to the list.

You are your parents' daughter, your country's princess, and are to be the Empire's most powerful woman.

And yet, to one person... to Satoru, you are to be his wife.

It's almost strange to think about. Your earliest memory of your betrothed is back when he was small and scrawny. It was difficult to take him seriously back then.

Now, something has changed in him. Or it could also be that he's always been like this, and this is a side to him he doesn't show to others that often.

Satoru watches you process the word, seeming to have something to say, but decides against it. You half expected him to tease you for being flabbergasted, but he patiently waits for you to speak first.

“Why are you here at this hour?”

He grins, eyes bringing shame to those distant stars hanging in the sky behind him.

“I didn't want our first meeting in ages to have so many spectators." Satoru explains. “If I had shown up earlier, the scribes would have taken note of how many times I blinked or how fast I chewed."

His jesting does not put you at ease at all. “I have a feeling you have something to say that should not be recorded or overheard.”

“That's true. However,” Satoru says pointedly, “The hour is far too late for all that I wish to say, so I will simply bid you goodnight with this...”

Out of nowhere, he pulls out a red flower with curling petals.

You keep your eyes on his as you reach for the flower's stem. Satoru watches you back, smiling softly. He's backing away before you can thank him, but he doesn't look like he minds. He seems to be happy you didn't reject it.

“Goodnight, my dear.” He bows, and makes his exit.

...Through the balcony. Again.

You step out and try to find where he disappeared to, but he's gone.

The moonlight out here allows you to get a better look at the flower. How curious. Usually, people in the Empire give roses, don't they?

The red carnation twirls between your fingers, and you think of how much more grand and tangible it is compared to the dandelion wisp that found you before dinner.

...

Carnations mean many different things, according to this book on the language of flowers you picked up. It all depends on the color.

Pink carnations symbolize fondness and remembrance. Some also consider it to mean not being able to forget someone.

White carnations mean purity, good luck, and new beginnings. It's a common way of wishing someone safe travels.

Yellow carnations have varying meanings. Sometimes, they are used for apologies. But most often they are given to express disdain, symbolizing a hopeless state of mind. You stare at the illustration next to the passage. The yellow watercolor is so bright and vibrant, it makes you wonder what it did to deserve such sad connotations.

Setting the book down for a moment, you rest your eyes by scanning the library. Countless shelves with even more countless books. A golden candlestick here. A priceless painting there. A stack of yesterday's newspaper lying a few tables away.

Something unpleasant settles in your chest. You ignore it and resume reading.

Naturally, as is the case for most red flowers, the red carnation means love. True, passionate love and affection.

You shut the book softly, tracing the embossed petals on the cover while thinking of the red carnation sitting on your bedside table.

Things could have gone worse, you suppose. At least Satoru didn't give you a striped carnation, which has no other meaning than rejection.

Secretary Mont enters the library before you could dwell more on that thought. He's arrived with several palace staff for additional wedding plans.

“Your Highness,” Only Mont greets you, but they all bow in unison.

You nod, and gesture to the table. “Be seated. Let's begin with the urgent concerns first.”

Apparently, the most urgent problem was that Satoru had not approved any of the table dressing color schemes. When you review the options, you think you can assume why. There can only be so many shades of white and cream and pearl.

“What shall we do, Your Highness?” One of the butlers ask.

“Give me a few samples, I'll talk to the Crown Prince myself.”

You almost regret saying that, because once you did, several staff began tripping over themselves, requesting you bring up other preparations with Satoru.

Secretary Mont asks if he should schedule an appointment with your betrothed, but you decline. Something tells you that he will show up again tonight.

And so, here you were after dinner in your chambers. A box of wedding planning materials rests next to you on the bed. You left the balcony doors open this time, and he shows up just as you predicted.

“Aw, were you expecting me?” He's smiling at you as he approaches, but it falters once he sees the box.

He lets out a loud breath before settling on your bed too, the box sits between you. “Alright, let's do this.”

“Start with these.” You hand him some fabric swatches, he looks at them in disdain.

“Pearl, then.” He says, barely even looking through all the options.

“Don't decide hastily.” You can't help but reprimand. “It's not just the color you have to consider, but the material as well.”

Satoru blinks, but presses his fingers to feel the texture of the fabric at your suggestion. “Is pearl not good then?”

“It's pretty, but it's too shiny.” You explain. “The sheen doesn't make it soft or comfortable to use.”

“Ah.” He breathes out, understanding what you mean.

You tell yourself your heart doesn't beat louder when he picks the one you had your eye on. Satoru holds the sample fabric up, the label attached reads ‘Snow’.

A clean, classic sort of white. Soft to the touch, almost fluffy. You don't have to tell him that you agree, he can already guess from the way you glance at him.

He doesn't need to know that your eyes strayed to his hair. Soft. Fluffy.

Clearing your throat, you change the subject by bringing out some tableware samples. “Shall we discuss these, next?”

An hour and thirty kinds of invitation cards later, a short break is due. You're writing down your decisions when Satoru calls your name.

You've moved to your desk by now, since your bed has become some sort of wedding moodboard. Something clinking together reaches your ears, and you turn to find that Satoru had tea brought up. He pours you a cup and carefully hands it to you.

“Thank you.” You respond gratefully, taking a sip before turning back to the lists in front of you.

“Aren't you tired?” Satoru asks, reading your writing over your shoulder.

“This is actually quite easy for me.” You admit. “Wedding planning is unexpectedly... Pleasant.”

Satoru laughs softly. “You're probably the only one in this palace who thinks it's pleasant to work with me.”

After a moment, he continues. “I suppose... That's a good thing, if we're to be wed.”

His words make you pause writing. You suddenly feel shy, warmth spreading on your cheeks. The kind you're sure isn't from the flame crackling in the fireplace.

How silly that you're becoming bashful after being engaged to him since you were children. The thundering of your heart can wait.

“I agree.” You respond, not turning to face him. You will not allow him to see you uncomposed like you did the previous night. “I wasn't sure what to expect from our marriage, but I would appreciate it if we were companionable.”

The rest of the evening proceeds smoothly, though you do notice Satoru becoming more silent as the night goes on.

The next day, you spot Satoru speaking to foreign delegates. Something is different in the way he carries himself in front of them. His posture is that of a proper Emperor, not a cheeky prince that sneaks into your room at night.

... It's probably best that no one finds out about that, lest a scandal breaks before you even get married.

When the delegates leave, you're about to approach and greet Satoru when he, unmistakably meets your eyes, then walks in the opposite direction.

You're left there, confused and perhaps even a little hurt. But you stone your expression and carry on as if nothing has happened. Your lessons taught you to be graceful, even in times you feel anything but.

By late afternoon, it's painfully obvious that Satoru is ignoring you. When he rushes through his lunch and gets up right when you take your seat, you try your best to look unaffected.

Hopefully, you're the only one who's noticed so far. If word reaches Secretary Mont, word will reach your father... That troubles you more than you can put to words.

Satoru doesn't show up for your scheduled wedding planning session with the rest of the staff. You're careful not to say that you'll speak with your betrothed, and thankfully no one mentions it even if it shows they wish you did. You're not even sure if he'll show up at your balcony tonight.

When the hour turns ten, the time he's usually here, he isn't. You sigh and can't help feeling a little disappointed.

Perhaps you said something wrong last night. Maybe you should apologize for something. Or he could just be busy, you tell yourself. You can't expect the Crown Prince to always have time to sneak away to you, can't you?

Something taps against the glass of the balcony doors. It breaks your train of thought, and causes your heart to leap just a bit.

But when you go to check, no one's there. You open the doors to find a single red carnation, just like the one he gave the first night.

You're only barely successful at hiding your relief. You reach for it and glance around once more, just to make sure if he left any other trace of him. There are none, but after you lock the doors and turn in for the night, two carnations in a glass vase calm you in a way you hadn't let yourself feel in a long time.

...

A maid knocks at your door a tad earlier than you're used to. When you ask about what's going on, she says she has to prepare you for the Crown Prince's departure.

“He's leaving?” You ask as you rise from bed, already headed for the bathroom to clean up.

“Yes, Your Highness.” She sifts through your wardrobe for your clothes. “He is to go on a business trip to settle trade agreements.”

“How long will he be gone for?”

“I cannot say for certain, Your Highness.”

Pausing in thought, you look to the balcony doors.

A rush of determination fills you as you ask the maid, “Could you prepare something for me?”

The head butler said that he could be gone for two or three weeks. Weeks before you see that face of his, which has a surprisingly forlorn expression on it.

“Thank you for seeing me off.” Satoru acknowledges you with a smile, but his eyes reveal how tired and troubled he truly is.

You say nothing at first, silently taking steps closer to him. You could practically feel the air freeze over as everyone watching holds their breath. This is the closest the two of you have appeared in public.

You reveal a white carnation held in the hand you hid behind you. The stem is cut short, just enough so that it fits into the pocket on his coat.

“I will take care of things here while you're gone.” You assure him, taking a step back to admire how the white flower suits him.

Satoru seems to be at a loss for words, but his eyes regain their usual spark when he addresses you again. “It seems I have nothing to worry about, then.”

You feel stares at your back as the carriage departs, but pay them no mind. You intend to keep your word and perform your duties while the prince is gone.

On your way to the library, you overhear the Imperial Princess and Sir Nanami speaking to each other.

They're in the next hallway, and you were just about to turn to it when you hear your name spoken. You press your back to the wall and listen.

“I'm glad Her Highness seems to have liked my brother.” The princess says. “And of course, I know Satoru would have been over the moon because of that flower.”

Sir Nanami hums. “His concerns were nothing to be worried about after all.”

The princess laughs. “Oh, what was it again that he said? That she friendzoned him?”

“It was that she companion-zoned him.”

You huff quietly. So that's why Satoru had been ignoring you yesterday.

“I look forward to their blooming relationship. I'm sure Her Highness will come around.” Is the last you hear of their conversation as they continue on their way, their footsteps fading further into the hall.

Come around? To what?

A grandfather clock chimes to signal the change of the hour, and you realize you've dilly-dallied for long enough. The rest of your way to the library has no people whispering about you and your betrothed or the flower you sent him off with.

But you would be lying if you said you'd forgotten about what the princess said.

...

Ever since Satoru left, he's been writing you letters. He said his sister gave him the idea.

You've given up on replying on every letter he sends. It seems as though he writes to you daily, and you simply can't keep up. He insists on writing no matter how busy he gets.

His fifth letter is so short that it should be called a note:

‘The flowers here are lovely. I had a bookmark made for you.’

That same bookmark, a dried pink carnation, sits between the pages of the novel you're currently reading. It makes you consider pressing the red carnations Satoru had given you so that they're not just left to wilt.

You write back once a week. But what you lack in quantity of letters you make up with the number of pages you write, and you tell Satoru as such. There are many things you want to report, so you don't hold back on anything.

Well, perhaps you don't quite tell him that you can't fall asleep until you spot the moon through the balcony glass. Or that you think of him whenever you're not distracted enough.

In Satoru's fifteenth letter, he brings the unfortunate news that his return will be delayed. He will have been gone for four weeks before he comes home, and the journey back will take three days at the latest.

Unable to express your disappointment outright, you instead imply that he should make haste for the wedding preparations. That he shouldn't miss the food tasting or the floral arrangements.

‘I trust my wife to make all the right decisions. Even if you don't, I'll consider them right anyway.’

There he goes again, calling you wife when you haven't married yet. It also dawns on you that Satoru has only ever called you by name, or addressed you as his wife. He's probably the only person who hasn't referred to you as Empress-to-be.

You're quickly learning that with Satoru, you're finding yourself again. It's rare for you to feel more than just a princess or Empress in training, but he makes it effortless with just a few words.

...

You begin counting down the days when Satoru writes that trade negotiations have finally concluded. He should be home in four days, and you can hardly wait to see his face again.

But of course, Satoru finds a way to bewilder you by arriving home early. In the middle of the night, no less. And naturally, through the balcony.

Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you try to decipher if his visage is a dream or a trick or the light. But when he laughs, and tells you he missed you dearly, you need no further proof.

Satoru clasps your hands with his, running his thumbs over your fingers and knuckles. Your eyes travel down to his boots, which are filthy with dirt and grass. His hair is ruffled and windswept.

“Did you,” The word settles on your tongue when you pause. “...Rush here on horseback?” You ask incredulously.

Satoru laughs again, and wraps his arms around you. “Are you complaining?”

You blink, and tentatively wrap your arms around his middle. “No. I'm glad you're home.”

Satoru is so warm compared to the night air that surrounds you. You almost complain when he pulls back, but the serious look in his eye makes you keep your mouth shut.

He clears his throat and rubs your shoulders before taking your hands again. You're completely shocked when he sinks to one knee.

“I know that we're already engaged.” Satoru begins. “I know that we've been preparing for this for years, but I just wanted to ask you properly. Because you deserve it.”

He pulls out a ring, a diamond shines at its center.

“Marry me, and I shall spend every moment of my life proving my love for you.”

“Yes. I will.” You respond, and he slips the ring onto your finger. How does he keep getting more and more lovely?

You place your hands on the sides of his face, pulling him up to you. You kiss him, and the air ignites like a spark brought to life.

It's tender, and careful, and carries all the things you wish to say to him. How you missed him. How you love the flowers he gives you. How excited you are to have him by your side for forever.

When you break apart, he seems surprised to find you reflecting his happiness back at him. He's about to speak, but not before he can resist the urge to kisses you again.

You smile into the kiss, but place a hand on his chest, pushing him to ask, “You were about to say?”

“...I've always known I would treat you right when we got engaged. That was always a given.” Satoru cradles your face gently, making you feel like the most precious in the world to him. “You were chosen because you're smart, and you worked harder than anyone else.”

“...But I saw you one day, when we were kids.” He speaks carefully. “You were trying your best to impress your father, but not at all happy...”

“From then on, I decided to make it my mission to make you smile.” To prove his point, he places his thumbs at the corners of your mouth to drag them up playfully. You laugh and swat his hands away.

“A real smile, just like that! None of those diplomatic half-smiles you always throw out to please people. That won't work on me.”

“Before you are the Empress, you are my wife. And I will love and treasure you as such.”

...

He says those same words at the wedding. You jest that he has no originality, but it brings you to tears just the same.

The wedding happens in the palace gardens, surrounded by countless beautiful flowers that dance and sway under the sun when the wind blows. Everything is, in every sense of the word, perfect.

For this moment, you are not the Empress. Not yet. The world can wait a day, you decide. Everything else can wait while you bask in the glowing warmth this man offers you.

As you leave the ceremony behind with your arms linked together, Satoru leans into your ear so you can hear him over the cheering crowd. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Petals shower you both on your way, and you can't help but smile. “Just that we're perfect together.”

Satoru laughs in agreement. “Damn right we are.”

Several staff are positioned at the exit of the gardens, ready to escort you both to the carriages that will take you through the Empire to greet your subjects... But something makes you pause at the end of the aisle.

You pluck a red carnation from one of the floral displays before turning to your husband. You tuck the flower into the chest pocket of his suit, snug in front of his pocket square.

When you glance up to see his reaction, he's already beaming at you, looking indescribably happy.

“I love you too.” He says, taking your hand and pressing the softest of kisses on top of your wedding ring.

When you sent him away back then, you remember thinking how the white carnation matched well with him. Looking at him now, however, the red flower over his heart seems to overflow with all the love and all the words that need not be spoken. You like this one much better.

He leans down to pluck another identical flower, and gently tucks it behind your ear.

Satisfied, he holds your hand tight, leading you to the rest of your lives with the assurance that he will never let go.

taglist♡— @flowerjun @mellozhi

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo royalty au #gojo fluff #jujustsu kaisen au #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru oneshot #gojo x y/n #togenabi-writes #togenabi-gojo-01

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celestiaras · 5 months

Text

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ he makes for a great dog ]❜

ft. vox akuma x gn! reader — luxiem, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ vox “i ain’t a bottom” akuma actually makes for a great dog if you put a muzzle on him┊0.8k words

contains: smut!! dom(ish) reader & sub(ish) vox┊established relationship with a side of hate sex if you squint, fighting for dom, pet play (leashes, muzzles, pet names), bratting/brat-taming (?), riding to mating press, unprotected sex, slight edging/teasing, mild pain play, biting & bleeding, breeding, hair-pulling

➤ author's note: would it be too out of character to make him whimper? i started his and completely fell off, who let me write smut┊inspired by (clip) & (clip)

“fucking bitch,” he snarled, his sharp teeth bared behind the muzzle you wrestled onto him with his heavy breathing dampening the metal wires.

“aww, that’s not a nice thing to say to the one who has you on a leash, now is it?” your voice remained surprisingly steady when vox was rutting into you like the feral dog in heat you were treating him as.

“do you think that you can boss me around just because you thought it would be cute to cage my mouth up? you have another thing coming for you.”

you giggled when he choked on his words with a simple roll of your hips, tugging on the leather strip to force him to make eye contact with you, “be a good mutt for your master, okay? i’ll give you a treat if you obey me~”

“shut the hell up,” his tone dripped with venom even though he felt like he was going to lose his mind— trying to nuzzle his face into the crook of your shoulder but unable to kiss you, to taste you, to run his tongue over every inch of exposed skin, but he couldn’t because of this stupid muzzle.

his inability to use his mouth led to him being rougher with his hands, pressing into your skin harshly enough to leave bruises with small crescent indents being made from his black-painted nails. he was too tempted to just remove the silver cage since his hands were free, but that would be losing this stupid bet he made with you and he was far too proud to admit defeat.

all he had to do was keep it on before he could come, but it was proving to be much more difficult than he thought— especially with how good you felt like his cock was made to fill you up and how sexy you looked with the domineering bedroom eyes, there was rarely anything more fun in the bedroom than having to grapple you in order to protect his reputation of being a top. is being driven to the point of madness from lust really worth making a point out of pride? he so badly needed more stimulation that you just weren’t providing him with the sole purpose of teasing him and you were damn good at it, softly kissing him and being all innocent like you weren’t testing the limits of his patience by keeping that cage on him for as long as you possibly could.

the cold metal pressing into your skin was admittedly uncomfortable, but it was worth it to see the big bad demon reduced to such a needy mess. he was so sure that it would be a simple task that he could handle with ease, saying that he would be your pet and submit to you if he failed this bet. who would have known that he would have overestimated his own abilities against you so wildly?

“how about… how about we take this stupid thing off? it isn’t as fun when you restrain me, right?” he was getting desperate enough to try and compromise with you, trying to convince you that this silly little game wasn’t worth withholding pleasure from the both of you.

“hmm?” you tilted your head at him in mock confusion. “you aren’t having fun? i’m having the time of my life right now, seeing how cute you are as a bottom. who would have thought that all it takes for the great vox akuma to submit was a muzzle?”

something in him snapped when you said that and that was his breaking point, using his demon strength to break off the muzzle with one hand with small bits of metal flying off to the side while he flipped you on your back like you were lighter than air. his action caught you off guard when you suddenly found your legs hanging uselessly over his shoulder while he animalistically rammed into your hole like you were the last souls on earth.

you hissed in pain when you felt him sink his fangs into the flesh of your shoulder then soothing the pain by licking at the fresh wound he inflicted, the metallic taste being sweet on his tongue. you didn’t even feel the knot in your abdomen unravel until it actually happened, leaving you to see white as your lover chased his own long-awaited high while riding out yours until he painted your insides white leaving you feeling sticky and full.

vox finally stilled and panted from loss of breath at the abrupt exertion of energy, but he’d never felt so much relief from so much pent-up frustration. however, his victory was short-lived when he felt your hand snake into his raven locks and pull him off of you, making him groan in response as his eyes rolled back.

you clicked your tongue at him in disappointment even though you knew that this would happen from the very beginning, “what a bad dog you’ve been, i wonder what punishment you should get for disobeying me?”

#📜. her works #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji smut #nijisanji #vox akuma x reader #vox akuma smut #vox akuma #luxiem x reader #luxiem smut #luxiem

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that-damn-fouth-chaosemerald · 4 months

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐖𝐇 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 "𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲" 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦?

See my masterlist here!

×A/N×

Hey!! Yes, I know, I have some few inbox that I should answer, and don't worry, I will, just let me do a quick post here- -w-

So I'm back with the promised WH headcanons! And I hope you will like them :D

(And yes, it has a short plot now. I did it. I wrote it. ✨

×❢ About my work ❢×

Fluff fluff, all is fluff! No pronouns used for the reader, but good boy/girl mentioned, even if it's expected, there's no smut. Although Howdy is a bit teasing, but it's not r rated so •-•

Fandom: Welcome Home horror project by Clown

Character(s): Wally Darling, Howdy Pillar, Barnaby B. Beagle, Frank Frankly, Eddie Dear, The Reader|You| (Y/N) |Neighbour

Ship(s): The Characters / The Reader|You| (Y/N) |Neighbour

Form: Headcanons

𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈: LoveGame by Lady Gaga

('cause that is next on my playlist •_•)

“Let's play a lovegame, play a lovegame

Do you want love or do you want fame?

Are you in the game?”

(All illustration belongs to Clown!)

Wally Darling

It was quiet in his house, even Home didn't let out a single crack until this moment. There was just one problem. You haven't seen your dearest puppet oh so long ago. The plan was that you two will have a cuddle time together, but he was nowhere.

You got up from the couch and carefully looked around in the house. You cautiously called out his name, but no one responded.

You walked around in the house a little bit, hoping to find him.

He had his own painting room where he could make his own fantasy alive with the brush.

You walked closer carefully, not to scare him. Even so, he could actually clearly hear you sneaking up behind him, but he was more focused on the picture.

You peaked through his shoulders to see what he was up to.

Oh. My. Gosh. Your heart skipped a beat. He was painting a picture of you. How cute! Wally was a very talented artist and you were very amazed in this moment. He always did such a great job.

"This looks so great, Wally! You are such a good boy!" you said quietly, while you gently placed your head on his shoulder.

• it comes off to him like compliment

• and it's from you

• his sweetest neighbour

• of course, he is happy! ♡

• "Thank you, Neighbour!"

• he smiles at you happily, hoping that you like his work

• "Do you like it, Neighbour?"

• omg ofc you like it! How could you not?!

• He is so happy about the compliment and about that you're liking his work.

• he just stares at you happily with open mouth, listening your cheerful voice while you commenting of him and his art

Eddie Dear

Eddie came home and you could tell, he was clearly exhausted. Poor boy, running back and forth all day, and do this job all alone, it must be tiring.

He got down next to you, just quietly lied down on his back and put his head on your lap.

"Hey." you said softly, curling his hair gently with your fingers.

"Hey, love!" he looked at you with his tired eyes, but his lips still curled up into a kind smile.

You were resting quietly in the warm room, just hearing each other's calm breathing was enough relaxing.

"It must be hard for you to do this job all alone, Eddie." you said quietly, no to destroy this calm moment that you have been in for awhile. "You're such a good boy!" you chuckled.

• he slowly opens his eyes, looks straight up at you

• look, idk if they can blush, but now he does it okay?

• like his face is completely red

• he always gets so flushed when you complimenting him

• he's so flattered

• and so damn cute ♡

• he's speechless, he can't think of what he could say

• so he just simply says

• "Oh... Erm... Thanks, (Y/N)!"

• he will definitely give a kiss to your hands in return

• Your compliments mean too much for him ♡

(a.n: btw I love Edddie, he is such a sweetheart 🥺 ♡

He is definitely my favourite character beside Barnaby! ★)

Barnaby. B. Beagle

He knew that work is tiring for you and you had a long day. He wanted to do something pleasant for you. He couldn't cook, it was too difficult for him and he didn't wanna blow up the kitchen with his tryings. So instead of cooking, he cleaned out. It was not as perfect like you would did it, but it was acceptable. He was already finished when you were standing in front of the red and blue colored door. It was easy to recognize it. It had similar colors as Barnaby and it was the biggest door in the neighbourhood.

He opened the door with a happiest smile on his face. He was clearly missing you. He let you in and you immediately took a seat on the comfy couch.

Just a few minutes after you had some chance to look around. The house wasn't perfectly clean, like you could still something in the conner, but it was enough to make you feel happy and greatful about Barnaby.

"What a good boy!"

• omg i can imagine how his tail starts wagging

• I mean he's like a dog, but different, but still a dog, so what did you expect?

• he definitely loves it when you call him a good boy

• he just listens your soft and lovely voice while you caressing and rubbing his fluffy head

• he especially likes rubs behind his big ears

• will rest his head on your lap and just melt in and let you to pet and praise him

• probably will bite you carefully in an affection way

• or slobber on you occasionally

• he wants you to say it more times, so he'll try to make you proud as often as he can

• he absolutely loves it ♡

"Thank you, Barnaby!"

Frank Frankly

You wanted to see your partner's reaction too much to lose this idea. You leaned forward in the chair to get a better look at Frank, then you called him.

"You are such a good boy, Frank!"

• he looks up at you strangely and confused

• you can't help, but giggle a little bit cause the frustration

• "Well... Thank you, (Y/N)..."

• then he goes back to his job

• probably he has to do something with those colorful bugs what are around him

• seems like he found a better company than you :")

• you stood up and got over to him, tried not to hurt his garden and the bugs

• "But seriously, hon, I do think that you're doing an amazing job!" you said it softly as you hugged him from behind.

"Thank you, Darling." he smiles at you adorably

• he still adores you dw ♡

• but he definitely likes dear, hon, love or even darling more :D

• (btw I think it would make him uncomfortable- not sure, but I feel like- lol)

Howdy Pillar

You rested your arm on the counter as Howdy checked your items. You watched his movements. Slowly tracing your eyes from his face down to his hands, paying attention to details as well.

"Y'know, you do so much work in this place, Howdy. Like a good boy." You added jokingly the last sentence, didn't think of it too much, though.

He stopped moving for and looked up on you. You look directly in his eyes, getting red of embarassment.

"I mean-" You looked away sheepishly. "Not like that, just... You're doing such a good job here, y'know? It must be hard to keep this place alright by yourself." you chuckled awkardly, trying to change the awkard mood that you accidently did.

Howdy was still looking at you, but he didn't seem nervous or weird out about this. He just stared at you and then suddenly his lips curled into a kind, but a teasing smile.

"Yeah, it is." he answered.

He already put in a bag the last item you have bought of him, then he gently gave the bag to you with his third hand.

"You wanna drink a quick Dark Roast with me? Or if you prefer it more, you can have orange juice, or tea." he leaned closer to you on the counter.

"Sure." you said.

He walked away from the counter as one of his hands started to lead you beside him.

He glanced at you with a smile and said

"You still have to pay, though. Don't think that I'll forgot."

• omg-

• i don't think he'll mind it y'know

• but he prefers call you a good pet/boy/girl

• he may get teasy about it

• beside that, he will treat it as a compliment (cause he really deserves it)

• call him often, he won't mind

• just please don't call him like that in public :>

• he's cool with it :D

#wh #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #welcome home arg #welcome home fanart #wally darling #wally darling x reader #barnaby b beagle #barnaby b beagle x reader #eddie dear #eddie dear x reader #frank frankly #frank frankly x reader #howdy pillar #howdy pillar x reader #wh x reader #welcome home x reader

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twilghtkoo · 1 year

Note

hiii can i request prompts 92 and 111?? :D tysm i love ur series

love foolish

pairings. haechan x (f) reader

genre. fluff if u squint, smut

warnings. gamer!haechan needs it's own warning, cum eating, face riding?, cunningulus, fingering, biting??? tit play kinda, a mortal kombat reference

prompts: #92 “you’re so dumb” and #111 “just let me beat this level and i swear i’ll give you the best orgasm ever”

prompt list | series masterlist | taglist

“hyuckie,” you call out to him. waiting for him to push one side of his headphones away from his ear. but he doesn’t hear you.

“hyuckie,” you repeat his name louder, dragging out the last vowel.

he whips his head to face you, pushing off the left ear, you giggle at his befuddled expression.

“i’m horny.” you whine out loud.

he smirks, turning back to face his screen but keeping his left ear open for you. it’s normal for you to occasionally want him while he’s sitting on his gaming chair, too occupied in whatever game he’s playing. but he never denies you, not when he sees you clenching your thighs together to barely relieve yourself. you’re not sure why you’re craving him right now, but you are.

“just let me beat this level, and i swear i’ll give you the best orgasm.” he promises you.

“uh… the fuck?” renjun speaks up, his voice only audible through haechan’s headphones.

which is why you were confused when haechan chuckled too himself, before saying ‘don’t worry about it.’ and you assumed he was online with one of his members. a look of determination on his face as he effortlessly continues with his game.

a triumphant smile stretched your lips, succeeding in grabbing your boyfriend’s attention. while he was busy fighting a character in his game, you were undressing yourself, tossing the discarded clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed.

you sprawled yourself on your bed, preparing yourself as if you were haechan's last meal on earth.

"alright renjun, i'm logging off. duty calls," he speaks into the mic, already closing out of some tabs and apps.

renjun lets out a huff. "don't care, bye."

with that, haechan chuckles before sliding off his headphones and putting them on the stand that you had bought him from the store. the amount of times he just leaves them on his keyboard bugged you.

when he turned around to face you, he did not expect for you to be full on naked. you lied on your back, the curves of your breast looked so perky and he so badly wanted to run his tongue all over you. your collarbones holding nothing as they made a dip into your skin. yet, the silver necklace with his initial on a small heart shaped pendant shimmers from the ambient lamp in the room. the way your legs looked so soft and smooth, and the way your thigh was hiding your center from his view made him feel stiff. he thinks if you heard the way he imagined you, as if he's describing a renaissance painting, you'd hide your face behind your hands and tell him he's lying. but you are truly so beautiful to him.

haechan is momentarily speechless. he eyes you up and down, open-mouthed.

the way he was staring at you had your cheeks warm up.

"can you stop staring and just come here?"

and he does just that, filling in the empty space between you two, remaining in his clothes.

"if you saw how i saw you in my eyes you'd stare too." he smirks, his eyes travel from your chest to your eyes, briefly stopping at the necklace before to your eyes. "so pretty." he whispers.

you tug at his hoodie, knowing he's wearing nothing under it. it was just something he threw on when he crawled out of your bed this morning. "take it off." you mumble.

you swallow involuntarily at the sight of haechan's toned chest.

"oh, fuck me."

haechan giggles shyly at your hushed comment, not paying his reaction any mind, you lean onto your elbows to place soft feather-like kisses along his stomach up to his chest.

he carefully leans back to give you room to sit up, haechan practically sitting on your lap, your hands brush up and down his abs before roaming towards his back, feeling the taut muscles.

he sighs above you, your kisses adventuring up to his face.

small, lingering smooches pressed gently on his jawline, then to the corner of his lips and to his mouth.

his tongue immediately darts out to dance with yours, you begin to push yourself onto him making his back hit the sheets. his palm smooths over the expanse of your ass.

with a moan you pull away as haechan pushes you onto your back, switching places, inserting himself between your thighs.

"fuck," haechan curses at the view of you below him. "i want to eat you out but i love your tits."

you giggle at his confession, his hands kneading your boobs roughly before he presses his face into the soft mounds of your breasts. his tongue swirling around on the perked buds. you run your hands through his fluffy hair, gasping when you feel his other free hand sneak in between your thighs. his finger tips barely grazing your glistening pussy.

"shit, you're wet." he sucks on your skin, continuing to play with your pussy, each touch making you whimper.

the pad of his middle finger runs over your clit and your hips buck into his hand. "mmm, gonna make you feel so good." he pokes his tongue out to run over the freshly made mark above your nipple.

you groan, "hyuck." not being able to withstand his teasing, needing more.

haechan's face leans up to your ear. "sit on my face." he pulls his hand away from your heat, plopping himself next to you and tapping your thigh.

"huh,"

"c'mere baby."

"hyuck, what if-"

his hand wraps itself around your arm as he pulls you towards him. "i'll be fine, promise. i just want you to sit that pretty pussy of yours on my face."

it's not his assuring words that pulls you to throw your leg over him, but haechan's dirty words that he easily spewed out his mouth.

with your leg threw over his body and pussy just above his face like he wanted, he doesn't let much time pass before his tongue dives in between your folds and your clutching onto your headboard. one of his hands are on your ass to spread you open for his delight and the other is exploring inside your aching pussy, coating his fingers with your juices.

"oh fuck!" you cursed, head tilt back.

"so fucking delicious," he murmured, voice low. "always so sweet."

his tongue circles your clit, waves of pleasure hit you throughout your entire body. your head hangs low, as you scream out praises, telling him how good he's making you feel.

your bottom lip is tugged between your teeth, the sloppy, wet noises of him eating you out is filthy, but watching his mouth do so makes you clench around his fingers.

haechan moaning against your pussy sends you closer to the edge.

"shit, i'm gonna cum." you whimper, your hips grinding desperately against his mouth, haechan lifts his hand and smacks your ass.

"god, you're so sexy." he groans against you.

"fuck, fuck, fuck!" you screamed.

you can feel him smirk underneath you.

"finish her!" haechan mocked, trying to imitate the godlike voice from mortal kombat.

"you're so dumb." you gritted through your teeth. of course, he uses a gaming reference while eating you out.

chuckling at how desperate you are to release yourself on his tongue. when his teeth run over your throbbing nub, you come undone, your eyebrows scrunch together as tears pool around your waterline. legs are shaking as you slowly rise yourself off of him, not missing how his fingers slid between your folds up and down.

"no," you whine, you turn around to find comfort in your boyfriend who's cheeks are a warm red, nose, lips, and chin glistening from your wetness.

"i love you." haechan kisses you, letting his lips linger on yours, tasting a bit of yourself.

"i love you- oh my god, it's all over your face." you point out, your hand coming up to hide your face. but he just grins, his tongue messily pokes out to get the rest of your juices, freezing as his eyes widened.

"wait, what time is it?" he asks eagerly.

you turn your body to grab your phone off the nightstand, tapping the screen to wake it up.

"almost five, why?"

"baby! we have dinner with doyoung and johnny in like thirty minutes." haechan lightly slaps your ass before he's running to the bathroom.

you just sit on your bed, your chest still heaving up and down from your orgasm, trying to recall if you had any planned events today.

oh crap, you did.

taglist @n0hyuck @matchahyuck @neosdaisy @m_1kaellUh @haesqt @waitcries send an ask or message to be removed! or fill out the google form to be added :D

#yeow6n #love foolish: ldh #haechan smut #nct smut #lee haechan #lee donghyuck x reader #haechan drabbles #haechan oneshot #haechan fluff #haechan drabble series #nct drabble series #nct dream x reader #lee donghyuck fluff #nct oneshot

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cutesytwt · 2 months

Text

╭──────────.★..─╮

Alastor x Collector! child reader

╰─..★.──────────╯

(GENDER NEUTRAL READER!)

Also this takes place before Alastor lets his appearance after 7 years be fully known.

I will try to write more parts to this with more interactions of us with Alastor and other characters while trying to also continue the story 😭

@belos-simp69 let me know what you think so far

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He wasn’t expecting to meet someone, a kid in fact, like you. He was curious. What was a shadow doing all the way down here in a cave within hell, with no person it belongs to? It seemed to be as if you were trapped.. which you were and he realized that.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

As he walked in the cave, lanterns illuminated, allowing him to see the scattered bones that littered the place. He walked deeper into the cave, meeting its end… but at the very center was a pedestal where a circular mirror lied with a crescent moon symbol in the middle.

“My my what’s this?” Someone with a radio static voice said walking forward before he was stopped in his tracks due to an unrecognized voice.

“Who said that!? Who’s there?” You yelled out, waiting to hear that voice again. It sounded interesting… fun.

Immediately, a shadow emerged from the mirror like object, traveling around the cave walls, stopping at a certain distance due to restricted movement.

“Well hello there little one!” The man turned his head to the wall the shadow stayed on tilting his head, smiling wildly. He held out his staff pointing it at you. You saw that it had a shielded microphone at the top.

You were surprised to get a response, even more surprised that he saw you. The lanterns that illuminated the cave were dull. Most people don’t see you because of that. Most people get scared and run back to the entrance of the cave wanting to get out as fast as they can.

You are a shadow…in a cave, after all.

You pushed those thoughts away quickly.

“A Person! Hi, hello! It’s been so long since I’ve seen someone!” You say extending and waving your arms. Your hands making a “hello” motion. Going a bit too fast though.

You saying that made him curious.

“Yes yes, a person! Now what might your name be?” He said getting closer to your shadow as he held his staff down. Un-tilting his head, but he was still smiling.

As he got closer, you could see that it looked like he had two long pointy ears on his head and small dear antlers…?

“Y/N! My names Y/N!” you say with excitement coursing through your voice

“What’s your name mister!?” You say questioning him back, waiting for a response.

“The names Alastor dear! Now that we’ve got past the introductions, what’s a little kid like you doing all the way in this cave?”

“Uh uh, I’m not answering another question until you play a game with me!” You say turning your head in the opposite direction of Alastor, turning your head to glare back at him right after before turning back.

“A Game you say? And what game is this?”

“Hide and seek! You know how to play hide and seek righhhttt?” You didn’t give him the chance to answer. “I’ll hide you seek! … and count to ten!” You say before you move from the wall to go to find a hiding spot.

Alastor decided to play along with you and play your little game of hide and seek. For answers. He was curious about why you were down here. Why you were a shadow, and just what was that circular thing with a moon in the middle you emerged from?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You laughed, you were having so much fun. Something you hadn’t had in a while. Your game of hide and seek turned into a game of tag.

“You caught meee!”

You started to sing

To you, who strayed to far from home!

To me, who’s trapped beneath these bones!

We’ll play forever me and you!

When you paint the land,

In nine bright hues!

You burst out laughing once again

“Trapped you say?” Alastor says, thinking. You were trapped? Why were you, a child even trapped down here? This intrigued him.

“Uh huhhhh.. I’m trapped.” You say sadly.

“We’re friends now, right? We played games together! You can help me get free right?” You yelled out expectingly, your mood immediately changing once again.

“I guess I could help you out a bit! …

but what would I get in return?”

“Anything! I’ll do anything! I just want out of this stupid cave!” You whined. You were willing to do anything if it meant finally being able to be free again.

“Anything? Then, let’s make a deal.” Alastor said, as the certain area in the room you both were illuminated in a spooky green color. You could now see that the deer horns that you made out to be on his head were getting bigger and his smiling grin got wider.

“I’ll help you get out of this cave, and free you, and in return for those two things, you can give me your soul! Do we have a deal?” Alastor said holding out his unoccupied hand.

You thought about it for a few seconds, letting out “hmmm” noises.

“Okay!” You agreed almost immediately, not knowing what you were getting yourself into.

His eyes widened and turned into radio dials…? Then green stitches appeared on his face.

“Wait, you’re not tricking me are you?! You promise to help me out?” You say as you grow suspicious and cross your arms. You’ve learned to not trust people too easily from past encounters.

“Pinky promise!” You said before moving your shadow from the wall to the ground so you could stand in front of him. You held out your pinky finger.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

• After you guys made your deal, Alastor helped you get out of the cave. Not too sure how to actually free you just yet. You told him how he could just carry around your moon mirror for now

“What?! But you said you could free me! You promised. We pinky swore!” You said throwing a tantrum

“I’ve fulfilled the first part of our deal, but I’m not too sure how to fully free you just yet. I’ll just have to figure that out dear!”

• People would give weird looks and stares to Alastor and you as he carried your moon mirror around and you would just be hiding behind him. Everyone looked to be shocked and afraid. Of you? No. Afraid of him.

“Isn’t that the radio demon? Wait, what’s that behind him?”

The radio demon?

“He’s back after seven years?”

“What’s the thing he’s carrying?”

• A few people would start recording with their phones but their phones would start to glitch out and overheat causing them to power off.

“What the heck?”

• Alastor took you to his radio tower where you stayed most of the time, was he even searching for a way to free you from your moon mirror?! It was pretty boring, and he would just barely make an appearance back at his own place. You found it weird. Just where is he? This was no different from being trapped up in that cave.

The doors of his radio tower opened and you came out from your moon mirror

“Where have you been! It’s so boring here, there’s nothing to do!”

“I’ve been out running errands,” he started before you cut him off

Betrayed, beguiled, alone, deceived!

I’ll have my revenge on… ugh. Unity is so hard to rhyme.

“Now now, I am not deceiving you nor am I betraying you. I’m still figuring out how to free you from this.. thing.” He says pointing at your moon mirror.

“In the time being, how about I take you somewhere new. It’s called the Happy Hotel. At the moment.” He says bending down and smiling while staring at you wide eyed.

“Would you like that? Think of it as my apology for keeping you locked up in here for so long.”

“Would I!? Yes yes yes yes yes! Let’s go, right now!” You said excitedly, circling him in your shadow.

“Well then let’s not waste anytime shall we?”

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #the collector #owl house

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eegasleega-will-change-this-l8r · 2 months

Text

WELL I WAS PLANNING ON PLAYING CELESTE THIS EVENING BUT INSTEAD I WILL NOW DEVOTE IT ENTIRELY TO INDULGING MY HYPERFIXATION

IT'S FINALLY TIME FOR A PORKY POST

Are Ness and Porky Friends...?

Let's talk about that 😏

First things first, I think this single moment from the beginning of the game is by FAR the most important thing to consider when thinking about how Ness and Porky's relationship is presented to us

Right at the start, when you make your way up to the meteorite, you will encounter the cops and their blockade This also serves as our first introduction to our wonderful neighbor, Porky Minch, who is currently making a nuisance of himself trying to get up to the meteorite, much to the cops' chagrin

One of the cops asks if we could help deal with Porky, and asks this vital question:

What's Ness's answer? Yes!

...or no.

I cannot understate how obsessed with this I am. Ness can't say whether or not Porky is really his friend. This is something he's unable to answer on his own. I really think this is a fantastic way to introduce Porky to the player. If he is Ness's friend... it doesn't seem like he's a very good one.

Now shortly after this, Porky begs for Ness's help in finding Picky. We get a pretty good look at Porky's character here. He's obnoxious, rude, doesn't take responsibility for his actions, and above all is pretty meek and cowardly. Now, I think some people go a little far in interpreting him as "bad" here. Porky's undeniably a jerk even now, but he's still just a kid, and a pretty pathetic one at that. If you look on the Earthbound wiki, you'll see that his age is listed as 14. As far as I'm aware, this only has one source, being Saori Kumi's Earthbound novelization. If you know even the slightest thing about this book, you will understand how ludicrous it is to use this as a source. Porky's age is never specified ingame, but I think his overall presentation implies that he should be the same age as Ness. It's fairly well-known that Ness's age is given as 13 in the American guide, but 12 in Japanese. 12 is also the age given in, again, Saori Kumi's novelization, unfortunately I don't know if this is stated elsewhere. It can also be noted that Shigesato Itoi has actually said he never thought of a specific age for Ness, just that he had his daughter in mind who at this time was in grade 4 or 5. So this gives us a range that could be as old as 13 or as young as 9. Personally, I skew toward 11-12 for how I envision the characters. In any case, Porky's clearly very young, so you really have to keep that in mind when considering... kinda everything about him, actually. But in this instance, it really contextualizes the stuff he says. For example, if you say no to him when he asks for your help, he threatens to "say something that'll cut you like a knife." I think it's silly to take this seriously (i've even heard someone describe it as Porky blackmailing Ness). He's clearly just gonna call Ness some mean name or something. ...Except he doesn't. Say no to him again, and he'll immediately deflate.

Porky is in no way a bully. He's annoying, but he's pretty lousy at being intimidating. Instead, his favorite way of getting what he wants is to appeal to others' sympathy. He's relying on Ness to help him by virtue of being "his bestest friend." Or think of his actions in battle: smiling insincerely, apologizing profusely, pretending to cry. He plays up being a sweet innocent kid whenever he's in trouble.

So, I think the picture we've painted is of a kid who's sort of a jerk, and tricks others to get what he wants. It becomes pretty clear why Ness isn't sure if he can really call Porky his friend.

...But what about Porky's side? Is he really only pretending to like Ness for his own gain, or are his own feelings much more complicated?

First off, just some minor things. While Porky leaves a pretty bad, if not altogether inaccurate first impression, there's a few things in his dialogue that speak to him thinking of Ness as more than just 'that loser who thinks we're friends.'

He promises that he'll tell Ness all about the meteorite in the morning. Probably this'd be in his typically boastful Porky-fashion, but even so, this shows that he wants to share things with Ness.

It's easy to miss because most people playing Earthbound have played A Video Game's before, and also tend not to ignore directions the game is clearly telegraphing, but Porky will actually give you advice if you're not properly prepared.

If you don't grab the Cracked Bat:

You're not taking anything on our big adventure? Why don't you look around for your Cracked bat or something?

Taking the bat but not equipping it:

Sorry about giving you this game-type advice, but you should equip your weapon! Do you know what "equip" means?

Yes:

Okay, that's good. Be sure to pay attention to details like that.

No:

It means "use" or "wear." You must equip items in order to use or wear them. "Equip" is used a lot in games like this, but you already knew that...

Finally, not answering your dad:

The phone is ringing! Answer it! At my house, my dad gets bent if I don't get the phone... within the first three rings!

These aren't anything groundbreaking, but they do show how Porky acts with Ness in casual contexts, plus how the game presents Porky surprisingly neutrally in the beginning, rather than just immediately telegraphing him as the villain. Also, nobody's seen these so hey, some obscure trivia for you.

Finally, Porky's reaction to hearing the prophecy is pretty telling of the kind of character Porky is pre-Giygas. He just talks about how much trouble Ness is in now, how he hopes he doesn't have to come, and how freaked out he is. I think this sums him up pretty well. He's the meek comic-relief friend character. Sniff from Moomin, for example. Or go watch Monster House, because Chowder is literally exactly Porky.

But none of that is super juicy. Let's dive into something juicy. This little bit murdered my brother when we got to it in our playthrough.

A quick detour to Magicant...

Ness... I envy you. You have all the luck. I have no luck. Ness... well, okay... Let's be friends forever, alright?

still hurts

Yeah so first off, I think this totally clears up Ness's feelings towards Porky. He can't say if they're really friends... But he WANTS them to be.

This is Ness's vision of Porky, the Porky he used to know before Giygas corrupted him, and the one he wishes was still around.

But even if this is just a manifestation of Ness's consciousness, I think it also gives us a look into Porky's inner self. This is what Ness sees in Porky, the confession that Porky is too insecure to say out loud. He hides it behind all his boasting and rudeness, but he really, really wants to keep his friendship with Ness.

Well.

If only.

Let's get to MOTHER 3.

This game gives us SO much more of Porky's character, and it's all sooooo deep. I cannot understate how much I hate seeing Porky reduced to 'that Eric Cartman kid who is an absolutely irredeemable suchnsuch.' King P is the culmination of a lot of aspects of Porky's character arc (you think this post is long, it's only the first of many more...), but one of the most prominent aspects is his unbelievably, painful, PATHETIC loneliness. This kid... man... is so desperate for a friend after he left the only person who ever wanted to connect with him that he literally brainwashes a whole city's worth of people into loving him.

And of course that's not enough, because all he wants is his next-door neighbor, his good buddy, his bestest friend Ness.

In closing, are Ness and Porky friends? It's complicated. Both clearly, desperately want to be. They have a history, they know each other intimately, by Itoi's own words they literally grew up playing together. But, for a number of reasons (that I've thought all too much about...), Porky just can't help but make it difficult. I'd sum it up by listening to the song that plays during Earthbound's cast credits. In the end, there are good friends, and...

#earthbound #mother 3 #mother series #porky minch #pokey minch #ness earthbound #emilyramblings #and holy fudge do i ramble #i just cannot shut up when it comes to porky minch #and there's so much i still need to talk about...

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caxde · 8 days

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Ok, today is my birthday I just woke up and thought it would be a good idea to finally ask for the drable of bright eyes that I thought of Eddie having a campaign with the boys and girls and also Y/N but Lua wakes up and see them so she wants to play too so Y/N sits her in their lap and let's her play with her.

I love your work and you are one of my favourite authors 💙💖💙

omg!! happy (late) birthday babe!! hope it was a good one <33 thank you so much for the request and for reading and for being here haha, hope i made it justice <33

bright eyes universe drabble (2.3k)

“What would even be my name?” You tell him, almost in a tired wimp, your head hurting slightly.

“Princess the Bard” He teases back, his head tilting to the right, his hair shaking in that hypnotic matter he knew you liked.

“If everybody keeps calling me princess, you’ll have to come up with a new nickname.” You point back, looking over your shoulder so you can see the way his eyes plead back, while he follows you to the kitchen.

“I can try a few…” He tries once again, he lets his body rest against his kitchen counter, waits for you to place your empty plate down on the sink, the soft ‘clinck’ sound links with his fingers graceing your waist. He grabs you softly, taking his time to first caress that little spot, before one of his fingers finds his way in one of your belt loops, pushing you to him from there. “Just, please? I don’t want you to go yet, and the few ones we’ve played you’ve been amazing…”

With just the way your eyes softened, darkened and then closed he knew he had been successful. He was biting back that stupid grin that made you smile in defeat every time you saw it.

“Ugh… fine…” He had it on his face as soon as you gave in. Maybe out of excitement, maybe because you were hugging him once again.

“C’mon, we’ll set the table then.” He gleamed, you just tried to muffle a laugh against his chest, enjoying the way his arms wrapped around you.

He grabbed your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, he was the one that had a joyful cheerful aura now, excited that you’d stay longer, even better, playing with him.

He had been talking about you finally joining him for a short, small one-shot campaign ever since he had caught you and Dustin going over the basics of the game. These last few days, though to be honest it had been two weeks, you and him had found a small window of time to be together, and you had spent it building your character, playing a few scenarios, making out before you left and painting. It had been fun, heavenly even, but you told him that it was because it was just the two of you, that you were a bit nervous about actually playing with his friends. He told you that they were just kids, but you made him remember that they were actually teenagers, which is a whole different situation, and that if you were to be their teacher someday, it would be weird. He laughed it off, brushed your hair out of your face and whispered “That’s kinnda hot” You punched him in his chest in a jokingly manner, but he reassured you, as he always did.

You were nervously -perhaps a tint of anxiety on your movements could be seen- playing with the die on your hand. You sat down next to him, even if that spot was usually occupied with Dustin, he agreed to let you there, knowing just how excited Eddie was, and clocking your nervousness.

“You guys ready to play some D&D?” Eddie asked, his hands moviming excitedly through the air.

They all cheered. You looked at them, Mike was gleaming, Will was excitedly nodding, Lucas was drinking some soda, his mouth still smiling, and Dustin looked at you. He mouthed a you’re ready.

That’s all you really needed for now.

Consequently, Lua was having trouble remaining asleep.

She was tossing and turning in her little bed, the quiet voices that left the living room seemed more appealing to her. She knew her dad had some friends over, and that she had to get some sleep, but she wanted to be near to him, and he wasn’t in his bed.

So she did what every kid would have done.

She got up, not minding her knotted hair, or the way her sleeping shirt was a bit too big on her.

She tumbled around her room, opening the door that was left ajar as best as she could, trying to not make a sound. She kept walking following the sound of the warm voices that were gathered around the table. Her eyes finally opened up, and she smiled as soon as she saw you sitting next to her dad.

She reached out, pulling your trousers down so you’d look at her.

“Hi bud, what are you doing up?” You asked her, you reached down, she glowed as soon as he heard your voice, as bright and as soft as ever.

“Can’t sleep.” She muttered, her hand scratching her eye, a little pout on her lips.

You looked up at Eddie, and you saw the way his heart melted, and how he was starting to feel guilty about talking as loud as he had.

“You wanna sit with me?” You asked her, opening your arms so she’ll decide on her own.

You didn’t have to wait long. She threw herself on your arms, waiting for you to pull her up. You placed her down on your lap, your fingers gracing her hair, placing it a bit more neatly. Eddie’s heart was about to burst.

The full table went quiet.

They weren’t used to such an intimate moment of Eddie’s life.

The little scene looked straight from a movie scene, a soft look shared between the both of you, while Lua just melted in your arms a bit more, pushing into you softly.

“Can we continue?” Mike asked, the usual urgency in his voice remained the same.

“Jesus.” Will whispered, the heels of his hands reaching for his forehead.

“What?”

“You really have the emotional range of a teaspoon sometimes, you know?” Lucas added, looking back at his friend, a look in his face that let you know this was something deeper than your little moment.

“Okay, sorry.” Eddie muttered, a little smile to her little girl before he continued. “Your king has just experienced an assassination attempt, the guards have captured some suspects down in the dungeons. Princess, you said you wanted to do something?”

Blood flew straight to her cheeks as soon as the attention was all on you. Lua decided to start playing with your fingers, as if she knew that doing that would help.

“I have seen Sir.Deeptrut on the battleground, right?” Your eyebrows raised as you were talking, a confirmation on Eddie’s face let you know you were right. “And he’s one of the suspects… Could I go down to the dungeons and try to talk to him?”

“You’ll have to make a persuasion check as soon as you get down there, just a heads up.” Will advised you. He had a calm voice, and was always trying to help. You could see just how much he cared, not only about the game, but about everyone that was sitting around the table.

“Why?” You shook your head, your hair tickling Lua’s cheek, making her giggle. Eddie’s lips curved upwards, he felt himself falling in deeper and faster.

“The guards.” Dustin pointed out, looking deep into you. “Unless you use disguise self, they’ll know it’s you, and they probably won’t let you pass. They just tried to uh…” He peered over at Lua, not really wanting to say that word, you just nodded.

“I want them to know it’s me though…” You said back, the kids looked at you, each one of them with a weirder look on their face. “Trust me.”

“You slowly walk down to the dungeons, and at first you realize the small amount of light that creeps in, even if it is a sunny day outside, it feels like midnight down here. The smell of dust and mould hits your nostrils quick. Before you can even move deeper in to find the one you want to talk to, a guard stops you.” Eddie describes it in a beautiful manner, his voice and tone pulling you in deeply, believing every single word, a picture fully painted.

“I demand to speak with Sir.Deeptrut.” You say, in a loud focused voice, avoiding his eyes.

“I’m sorry, your highness. Sir.Deeptrut was accused with an assassination attempt against your father, I would blame you if you came here to uh… finish the job but… I’m afraid I can’t let you in.” He changed his accent to an English one, it made you smile a bit more, discovering something you didn’t know Eddie was capable of doing.

Lua looked up, shocked that her dad could sound like that, not understanding how, Eddie tried to hide his laugh with a little wave at her.

“I just wanna talk to him… please?” You try again.

“Give me a persuasion check.” Eddie used his menacing voice, the one that indicated an important decision.

“Lua?” You asked her, her eyes looking up at you. “You wanna help me roll?” You opened your hand, letting her reach for one of the die. You looked as she grabbed it and threw it on the little wooden box Eddie had left you. “Good job bud!” You praised her as soon as you saw the 19 on the die.

“Jesus, yeah, that’ll do.” Eddie said as soon as he saw the number. Lua chuckled when she saw how happy that had made the two of you. “Princess… He’s a dangerous man.” He used that accent again, the whole table waiting for what your plan is.

“What’s your name?” You narrowed your eyes as you snapped back, your whole attitude changing.

“I’m Liam your highness.”

“Great, so I’ll tell my father that a guard named Liam wouldn’t let me even talk to the man I’m betrothed to.” All of the table opened their mouths in amusement.

“What?” Mike snapped, the first one to do so.

“Betrothed?” Lucas panicked, given he was the one playing the king.

“Just, trust me!” You repeat yourself, even if everyone was looking at you as if you were crazy.

“He just steps back, with his hands in the air, giving you full access to Sir.Deeptrut” Eddie describes in pure amused shock at the chaos you were creating.

“I walk in, and I’m gonna Disguise Self to turn into one of his um… friends?” You half ask as you stifle a laugh. “So he’ll think that me coming as princess was a trick to get in.” You keep explaining your plan. “And then I’ll just get down and try to like, act as if I’m trying to break him free. And say uh… There’s still time for me to finish this, tell me where you got the poison dagger and I’ll finish it myself.”

The whole table felt silent, not really expecting you to do that.

“Oh…God.” Eddie’s face got red, not sure if he found it hot because it had been you doing it, or because it was one hell of a play. “I uh… Shii-ut” He saved himself from cursing as soon as he saw Lua looking up at him with curious eyes. “That’ll be a deception check.” He adds, still bamboozled.

“Lua, you wanna roll again?” You ask her, two dice this time were layed in the palm of your hand. “I’ve got advantage right?”

“Why?”

“Disguise Self, she’s got the actor feet.” Dustin explains in a sort of automotive tone, not really quite believing such a move had come out of you.

“You do.” Eddie confirmed as he nodded, a sense of pride emanating from him.

“C’mon Lua, you’ve got it.” You cheered her as she let the die hit the wooden box. “That’s so good dude!” You praised her once again, a soft kiss left on her cheek as her laughter could be heard. “That’ll be a 24.”

“I… I don’t know where you can get another one, I just… If the primogen of the church got me one, I’m sure he can get you another one, but be wary, that family’s got something odd.”

“You don’t say.” You add in a teasing tone, before raising your eyebrows again, a move that let Eddie know you were about to do something outlandish again. “I want to drop the disguise self and call for the guards. Explain to them how he just confessed and that they have to arrest the primogen.”

“You… you do that.” Eddie finally breaks, as the whole table erupts in panicked laughter and shock that your outlandish plan had worked. “And you see how he just goes ballistic, his full body trying to free himself from the chains as he just yells nonsense in a repetitive manner as he realises just how much you have fooled him.”

“I just wanna reach over to him, close enough to his ear and whisper to him uh… I hope your God hears you now.”

“You have to come play with us more often.” Will says in shock, while Mike just stays there next to him, in shock not really believing you actually did that.

“Lua, you want to go to bed?” You weren’t paying that much attention to the table, nor why it was that impressive. You were more worried about Lua and her head falling as she started falling asleep. “I’ll take her to bed, I’ll come in a minute.” You tell everyone, but mostly Eddie.

He watches you closely, the way your hands hold her with such a delicate manner, the care and sensibility you have in your movements. He reaches for your hand, right before you leave, his thumb caressing the back of your hand in an affectionate touch. You step in a bit closer to him, he stands up so he can leave a short kiss on his daughter’s forehead, right before whispering thank you, a fast kiss on your lips as his dimples appear on his cheeks. He saw you walk into his room, and even if he was supposed to concentrate on the game, he could only think the same thing i never want to see her go.

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xxbimbobunnyxx · 3 days

Text

Introducing: The Sanrio Girlies

So this cute ass idea came to me to make readers based off the Sanrio characters and I kind of just ran with it. It turned into a whole ass little AU. I had so much fun doing this, it’s been a minute since I got lost in creating something for hours. I do have main pairings in my mind for all of them BUT they’re absolutely interchangeable. I can see them all together for different reasons. I have so much LORE about them so feel free to send me asks about this lil universe. I’ll def be posting more about them because they are my babies and I’m proud of them. Tag yourself, I’m Kuromi. (Yes I self inserted)

Kuromi Reader

Trashy Y2K emo princess. Rebellious kook whose parents never agreed with her style or life choices. Hates driving, she was born for the passenger seat. Acts super bitchy but under the surface is a die hard romantic. Has never had a day job. Kind of unhinged, she will slash your tires if you do her wrong. Halloween obsessed. Has an OnlyFans. Reads romance novels in her free time. Spoiled brat. Has a tramp stamp. She’s the friend that says she’s “really not going to get that drunk tonight” but ends up getting dragged out of the party because she’s more wasted than everyone else, trying to fight people twice her size. In my AU she is Rafe’s girl but I could also see her and Jj being together.

My Melody Reader

Cute lil bimbo core baddie. Kook but spends all her time with the pouges. She grew up with rich her grandma who taught her everything about baking, sewing, and being a lady. Shops till she drops. Total empath. She loves doing things and buying things for the people she loves. The sweetest person you’ll ever meet until you mess with someone she cares about. Loves all things pink. Extremely smart despite her outward appearance. Neat and tidy. She thinks she’s responsible but she goes shopping at least twice a week, doesn’t have a job, and party’s every weekend. In my AU she is John B’s girl But I could also see her being with Rafe.

Batz Maru Reader

Total grungy tomboy. Pouge. Super sarcastic. Has a bunch of tiny little tattoos. Loves horror movies. Skates. Plays video games. She has hardcore mommy issues but has a bad ass metal head dad who owns an auto shop where she works. She’s always up to no good. If it’s not spray painting her literal name on shit and skateboarding on private property, it’s getting stoned out of her mind and blasting music so loud the whole neighborhood hears it. She’ll never tell anyone she has pink lingerie under all of that either. Batz is 100% Jj’s girl but I could also see her being with John B.

Keroppi Reader

She’s a multifaceted girlie. She’s a total boho beach bum but even when she’s on the beach she’s studying. Sporty. Played almost every sport in high school and was always the top of her class. Pouge. Total yogi. Going to school to be a veterinarian. Kind of a health nut, watches what she eats all week but let’s lose on the weekends with the girlies. Down to earth lover girl. She’s always there to listen when you need her and gives the best advice. Even if she is a little blunt about it. In my AU she is Pope’s Girl but I could also she her being with John B.

Cinnamon Roll Reader

Coquette soft girl. Shy and quiet until you get to know her. Professional Ballerina. Loves baby blue so much it’s part of her personality at this point. Kook. She grew up spoiled and sheltered so she’s a little clueless sometimes. Definitely has a planner and a strict daily routine. Loves to snack even though her ballet instructor tells her not to. Self care queen. Cry baby. Spends most of her time practicing for recitals and day dreaming. Cinna is kind of a wild card, I couldn’t decide who to pair her with, my first instinct is to make her Rafe’s girl but I could also see her and Jj being a polar opposite couple that balance each other out.

#rafe Cameron x reader #rafe Cameron concepts #outer banks blurb #Jj maybank x reader #jj maybank concept #rafe cameron blurb #pope x reader #Pope Hayward concepts #john b routledge #john b x reader #John b concepts #John b blurb #rafe Cameron #jj maybank #Sanrio!Readers #Sanrio!Girlies

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sevenpoyo · 9 months

Text

school headcanons for because i only got 3 more weeks

margo’s is so long even tho she got like 2 minutes of screen time bc i love her so much and she’s my gf

Margo Kess, 1610Miles, 42Miles, Gwen Stacy, Pavitr Prabhakar

margo kess / spiderbyte

ain’t shorty on zoom in the movie?

my girl dont attend class, she once shut down the entire blocks power so she would have an excuse to not be in class

eats in class all class everyday, only shares with you

takes really good notes and never studies them

like???? ma’am??? share???

all her electives are programming related and she pretends to busy while playing centipede all day

sends you 50 links to stuff you might like while ur in math

she got papers that let her opt out of gym

no matter how much you beg ur gonna be alone in gym and she doesn’t feel bad about it

popular with no friends type

like everyday 50 ppl stop you both and say hi

she only knows like 5 of their names she can’t stand half of them niggas

empty ass backpack like she got one notebook and one binder

all a’s and b’s like bitch how

her memory is absolutely ass but she can remember every story you told her or stuff that happened when y’all hang out

don’t ask her what she did in her class

don’t ask her if her class also has a history test

she don’t know

she don’t care

but she do know that when you were 8 your cousin burned ur thigh while y’all were playing iron vs knife fight

(u were dumb as hell for picking knife everyone knows iron always wins)

i looked it up on her word everybody uses those virtual avatars

she’ll shit on your class choices so damn hard

she just likes making fun of your choices fr

like half of ur conversation go;

damn i’m tired

u was up doing stupid shit last night you don’t get to complain

stfu that’s why ur a bitmoji

that’s why ur granny beat ur ass for something your brother did when you were 9

i hate telling u shit

then stop telling me shit

(i have no clue how accurate this is to her character but i need to write about her i’m in love but damn it’s long)

1610 miles / spider-man 2 lmao

book bag full locker full but never has a pencil

writes notes assignments and homework in paint pen ink don’t ask this nigga for notes

(he gets nigga treatment but not my queen margo bc i got favorites)

he miss mad classes but somehow still solid attendance record???

somehow always present in the record he miss 40 days and get caught on like 6 of them

unless his mom make breakfast and lunch on her day off for him he eating the most random shit from the bodega closest to visions

like what do you mean you got a cosmic brownie and a cold chopped cheese from last night ? it’s literally 7 in the morning no i don’t want none

makes you hype him up every time he slap boxes people and he’s so ass at it

he be ashy with no lotion atleast 5 times every month it’s embarrassing

he calls visions his white people school to his parents and his friends

once he said it to gwen and they sat in literal complete silence for like 10 minutes

prolly took music theory because he thought it would be easy and switched out of that shit so fast

i’d be so mean to him for enjoying physics

like this nigga trying to make something of him self

lil einstein ass nigga

he understands color theory but can’t explain it

12 half full sketchbooks but at school he literally draw on computer paper he don’t let the sketch book leave his bag

i know he’s ass at watercolor, he always spills shit, the colors always end up brown

try’s to be interested in your class choices bc he wants to know stuff he can talk about with you

when you first meet he can’t take meaner jokes bc he thinks that you mean them

but one day he’s gets comfortable, and brutal

no one in your life is safe when he looses a video game

except your mom

rio taught him better than that

42 miles / the prowler

comes to school with no school related supplies in his bag unless you count art stuff

finds a pencil on his way to class

has a change of clothes, rat tail comb, 3 bottles of water, a camera, a flashlight, lotion and cocoa butter.

like bro ur going to Ap Art not a camping trip

once he pulled out a griddle and and pancake mix and y’all started making pancakes in class

forgets his metro pass every day and gets so pissed ab it

runs into people in the hallway bc he’s never paying attention

idk if he goes to visions but if he does he calls it his white people school with his full chest to anybody even if they’re white

he be leaving halfway through the day all the time like bro you miss algebra 2 every damn day

uncle arron always talking him out of school with some bullshit reason

bro’s had his tonsils out 8 times on the school’s records

He will get ur parents to put his uncle on ur pickup list and you will be out of there with him

he will YELL if someone step on his shoes no matter what the situation like the school could be on fire and he fighting in the burning building

also his uniform is so pristine

his pants stiff

that button down is bleached ironed pressed and allat

this mfer is an online shopping addict u just know he be on amazon in class

will offer you the weirdest food combos like no i don’t want to put tajin mangoes on my beef patty i’m sick of you nigga

not school related but he’s super good with kids (both miles fr) but he’s the #1 little cousin defender and apologists

he ride for them always one of ur little cousins could sucker punch u and he be like

‘they just want u to play with them’

he takes a preforming arts class for fun prolly

loves sports but doesn’t play one understands the stats well and would help if you played one

wakes up at the asscrack of dawn on weekends

SICK ASS COSTUME FOR HOLLOWEEN IK THIS NIGGA LOVE HOLLOWEEN

plans costumes for school spirit weeks but always checks to seen if he’s gonna be the only one wearing a costume for it

never eats lunch unless his mom makes it he be hungry all day and be complaining

his socks are never in uniform (yes some uniform schools have sock rules)

gwen stacy / spider woman / ghost spider

idk what to call her

she has every snack you could ever want in her lunch bag

hates her music theory teacher

she literally has the most pristine locker with a calendar and a mirror and all that shit will write down test for you and important dates for the both of you

goes to school plays and shits on the story, like she ain’t pay 5 dollars to be there

some of her teachers hate her

like ma’am ur beefing with a whole 16 year old rn

she hate english teachers but love creative writing teachers

she keeps all her books in her locker never brings them home never brings them to class

always comes through with an extra pad no matter what

she also always has hand sanitizer

in like 4 extracurricular after school things and complains so bad

ur starting to hate that shit to ur sick of hearing it like girl quit then

10/10 cameraman she has every fight and every drama in 10khd and she will share them if you ask

she chews her pens and nails

has her drumsticks out always teachers have banned her from taking them to their classes

can watch tv on her phone but look focused you think she’s paying attention but then you look over and she’s watching good luck charlie

pavitr prabhakar / spider-man india

always late for class never in trouble

always eating and sharing food and never in trouble

how is he blessed like this? it ain’t fair

eats from the school vending machines or begs other ppl to share

will always have and share the homework answers no matter what he’s an angel

his sock always have holes in them like sir please get that shit together

gym try hard ik goes insane in football/soccer

very encouraging for shit u don’t wanna do he believes in you

you him and Gayatri talk so much shit but are somehow all well liked

he tells you what teachers are dating (he can just tell)

he has toothpaste in his bag for some reason?? i can just feel this one

his aunt will let you come over after school she’s so sweet to you.

always got a job at school assemblies

he’s reading poems or shaking hand or leading in the school pledge or something

Pav’s is short because i have no fucking clue if school in India is different form america and Barbados

#miles morales x reader #42 miles morales #margo kess x reader #gwen stacy x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr my beloved #atsv x reader #atsv spoilers #spider byte x reader #the prowler x reader #42 miles morales x reader

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dragonrider9905 · 1 month

Text

Celebrating You!

Hi guys! I’ve been on here for a bit now and while I never had a follower goal, I do appreciate you guys who have decided to follow me! So now I’d like to celebrate you!

In light of TBB ending, and how much we'll be missing the boys, I thought this was as good as a time as ever!

Here’s the idea! I’m opening a prompt request for the dates of April 5th through May 5th, 2024 (you may start submitting now though!) and choose from the prompts below! You can choose one from each category, or just one category. It’s ok if it is just the prompt or the prompt and a brief idea. If you have a fun idea or prompt not listed, please share!

Rules: I only write SFW. I typically write for clones; I reserve the right to refuse requests which make me uncomfortable for whatever reason. I have had a few requests in the past that really unsettled me for various reasons. Or if I don't know the character. I'd hate to try to write something then upset the person because it is so ooc that it's cringy. (But if I said I would write your request and haven't yet, I just honestly haven't gotten to it :D I like to do well on the stories you guys entrust to me so it does take me a bit :D)

This is supposed to be fun so lets keep it fun!

You may submit as many requests as you'd like! The more the merrier!

Characters: Star Wars Clone Wars or The Bad Batch (as long as I know them. I know a lot of clones but alas, not all.)

Story genre:

Classic SW! (Pick an era if they exist in more than one if you wish)

AU of choice (modern, western, pirate, mermaid, time traveling, etc if I’m unfamiliar with the genre, I may have to change it or request more details)

Dialogue Prompts:

“Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“If we’re going to do this we’ll need—“ “A plan?” “No! Code names! Cool ones!”

“I don’t need to be anything to you. I just want my life to mean more to you than my death.”

“You are playing a dangerous game without even a glimpse of the rule book.”

“I’ve never been terrified of death, til he set his sights on you.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” “Yeah, you’re not allowed to ask that in this situation.”

“Where’s your shoe?” “The giant mud puddle in the road demanded a sacrifice.”

“Love at first sight doesn’t exist.” “Then how else do I describe the feeling I got when I first saw you?” “You…love me?” “Apparently not, according to you.”

“A fate worse than death….” “They’re burnt cupcakes.”

“White paint has more color than your face.”

“Why is there a dragon in my fridge?” “It was hot.”

“Touch **, and you’re dead.”

“I am the law.”

“Do that again and I’ll throw you out the window. Wait, what are you doing?” “Checking how high the drop is; seeing if it’s worth it.”

“I’d rather have you hate me than loose you entirely.”

“I have a mission but don’t know what it is.” “Well that sounds incredibly counterproductive.”

“I would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulties in your life.” “You are the worst at this comforting thing.”

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this but I’m quite petite.” “Really? I had no idea in our twelve years of friendship that you’re shorter than I am.”

“But what is power?” “Loyalty.”

“Don’t you sign to me in that tone.”

“I’m with him/her for better or worse.” “It’ll probably be worse.” “I knew that the day I met him/her.”

"I'm sorry I tried to kill you." "It's fine, but next time you should try harder."

"C'mon, like I need an excuse to spend time with you."

"You're not as bad as everyone says you are."

"The only one who gets to kill you is me."

“blood loss”? well it’s not lost. I know exactly where it went. right over there.”

“How the mighty have fallen!” “It’s a dropped chocolate bar, stop being dramatic.”

“Shit, we’re gonna die” “Now I don’t want to hear that negative attitude, look on the bright side!” “Yay! We’re gonna die! Woo!”

“How do you do it?” “How do I do what?” “Pretend you are ok.” “I’m not pretending.” “Yes, you are. Every single day and it breaks my heart.”

“Hey, so I know things are pretty f**** shitty right now but I need you to breathe for me.” “Wha-wh-wh-” “You’re having a panic attack. It’s gonna be ok. Just breathe with me.”

“Please, my arms—I can’t wipe my tears, don’t let them see!”

"Smiles are contagious!" "Don't worry, I'm vaccinated."

"I don't want to get involved, it's too risky." "Please do it for me, you're the only one I can turn to." "It's not worth it. You really want to lose everything? 'cause I don't."

"Do you ever think of anyone other than yourself?" "No"---a long pause---"actually yes, at Christmas time"

"There is a reason I go through that door first, It's to make sure everyone else walks back out"

“I can’t leave you here!” “You can and you will.”

"OH! Are you alright? Are you alright?" "Apart from being trapped under here, and maybe suffering from broken bones and embarrassment beyond what I am capable of handling. . . I'm dandy, why do you ask?"

Oh no, are you alright? You're covered in blood!" "Yes, it's yours, Now will you please let me take you to the hospital?"

"What did love ever do anything for anyone anyway?"

"What the hell were you even thinking?!" "You told me not to think!"

"With love comes loss, that's part of the deal. Sometimes it hurts, but in the end, it was all worth it. There's no greater gift than love."

“'Temporary stitches' all stitches are temporary if you have a pair of scissors and aren’t a coward" "What do you....that better not mean what I think you mean......" "Am I just talking about sewing stitches or sutures too? Maaayyybe?" "NO! Absolutely not!"

"I made the calculations, and boy am I bad at math."

"It'll be over soon, I promise."

"Working together again, just like old times." "Well, not just like old times."

"I am many things but not your enemy."

Action Prompts:

Forehead kisses

Palm/hand kisses

Dramatic rain scene

Touching foreheads

Jealousy

Dancing

Last stand

Christmas/Life Day celebration

mistletoe

Accidental hand touch

First date

First kiss

Spending time with the family

Bad day cheering up scheme

Pranks

Going to a pet shop

Going to the movies

Always go after the girl

soft spoken person has loud, unnerving scream.

Lullabies

Nightmares

injury

amnesia

pretend/mistaken to be married/in a relationship

cooking

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malanasims · 9 months

Text

Taylor Swift Eras themed Legacy Challenge

i wanted to put together two of my favorite things: the sims and Taylor Swift. so i came up with this 10 generation legacy challenge in which each generation is inspired by a different album. I created this challenge for the sims 2 ultimate collection since that is the game i normally play, but i am sure it can be adapted for sims 3 or sims 4. i also implemented the traits project for ts2 but you can easily do the challenge without it using different personality points. i set up this challenge so that each generation alternates genders but you can switch that up. i also chose first names for each generation based on references of the album. also some of the writing is very cheesy and has a lot of references because why not go crazy. this is my first legacy challenge so if you have any critiques let me know. the rules are not strict and cheats can be used as its a story-based challenge.

Debut- Gen 1: Mary

“Take me home where we met so many years before.

We'll rock our babies on that very front porch: After all this time, you and I”

You grew up in a small town where everyone knew each other. Your parents never had the greatest relationship and your mom was always with her best friend. Since birth you and her kid have been inseparable. Will you fall into the same patterns as your parents…or will you find a place in this world?

family/romance

LTW: reach golden anniversary

nurturing, jealous, loves the outdoors, great kisser, family oriented

marry your first love

have 2 children (at least one son)

formal wear is a little black dress

Fearless- Gen 2: Stephen

“You played in bars, you play guitar

I'm invisible and everyone knows who you are”

Your parents raised you well but something about the fact that they only ever knew each other scares you. You want to get out there and make a name for yourself. You know no ones coming for you on their white horse. You’ll have to be fearless to become a superstar: but for now all you have is your mothers eyes and her old guitar.

fortune/pleasure

virtuoso, charismatic, irresistible, ambitious, non-committal

LTW: become rock god

go on at least 5 first dates

have at least one daughter

date a fan

Speak now- Gen 3: Emma

“When Emma falls apart, it's when she's alone

She takes on the pain and bears it on her own”

You often felt overlooked by your rockstar father. He was always busy and you spent most of your time with your mother until her mysterious disappearance. You feel like you grew up too fast, and now you love to travel back to your youth and fantasize about castles and dragons. So you become an actress; a character. Will you break out of your fathers famously destructive patterns, or will you regain your balance on the tightrope and break out before fire can catch you?

popularity/romance

LTW: Become Icon

natural born performer, childish, bookworm, shy, hopeless romantic

your first love doesn't work out/ you break their heart

have at least one son

have a strained relationship with your father but a good relationship with your mother

meet your true love at a party and then never see eachother again

Red- Gen 4: Bobby

“How you took the money and your dignity, and got the hell out

They say you bought a bunch of land somewhere

Chose the rose garden over Madison Square”

You grew up in the starlight of your mothers fame. You two were always close but after suffering from the tabloids and the camera flashes you decide this life is not for you. You move out of the Angel City and start anew. Your mother has given you some funds and you build up a family home. You tell everyone you left because the city wasn’t right for you… but maybe it was partly to run from your playboy/girl ex who you know was trouble. Now you spend your life painting and searching for your muse. Will you stay paralyzed by time or finally begin again?

Knowledge/family

LTW: become visionary

artistic, eco friendly, night owl, loves the cold, loner

Have an on and off toxic relationship

Move out of your parents house

Settle down with someone nice

Have 3 children (at least one girl)

1989- Gen 5: Love

“You searched the world for somethin' else

To make you feel like what we had

And in the end, in Wonderland, we both went mad”

You grew up secluded from the world, surrounded by your mothers paintings. Your mom loved the environment but you couldn’t wait to get out of the woods and explore new places. Somewhere along the road, you fell into a rabbit hole of insanity: mascara running in the bathroom and rose gardens filled with thorns. You blow money and string lovers along. You have fantastic delusions until your wildest dreams turn into nightmares. Will you accept the help from your family and abandon your affinity for screaming, crying and perfect storms? Or will every day continue to be a battle?

knowledge/pleasure

LTW: Become space pirate

Insane, unstable, diva, adventurous, jealous

Join the adventurer career

Have 3 loves at once

Have children with multiple people (one must be boy/girl twins)

Lose money in poker

Reputation- Gen 6: Burton (the name is so bad help)

“I don't like your kingdom keys

They once belonged to me

You asked me for a place to sleep

Locked me out and threw a feast”

Yeah, your mother may have done a number on you, but who's counting? Maybe your twin sister… Everything you did, she just had to do better. In the wake of your mother’s madness, you turned to dancing. You found peace in swaying as the room burnt down. Your twin sister on the other hand hated how you were lit up every room you walked into, but you couldn’t help it. There's nothing she hates more than what she can't have… so she turned to sabotage. Just when you think that your life is perfect- you're at the top of your career and you finally found love- your sister starts a rumor that you cheated on your love. Your reputation as a famous dancer goes down in seconds. But to your surprise, your lover isn't reading what they call you lately and your relationship is stronger than ever. Will you get revenge on your sister and become exactly what you despise, or sit back and let karma take over?

Popularity/romance

LTW: Become world class ballerina

Party animal, irresistible, social butterfly, hot headed, unlucky

Be enemies with your twin sister

Never be unfaithful

Have a bad reputation

Have at least one daughter

Lover- Gen 7: Cornelia

“I’d be a fearless leader, I'd be an alpha type

When everyone believes ya, what's that like?”

You've always known you wanted to change the world. Who cares if you were overlooked and discouraged. Snakes and stones won’t break your bones. You never had a big family as your father walked away from his. Sometimes it gets lonely trusting the wicked, and your loyalty was often a fault. You turn to politics to combat your feelings of helplessness, but no one takes you seriously and you feel lost in the light. You have to start from the ground up with the help of your best friend. You start to build your picture-perfect life: the kids, the lyrical smiles and the power. Will you drive away your lover by searching for their dark side, or will you put aside your ways and find the daylight?

Popularity/family

LTW: Become mayor

Good, easily impressed, brave, unlucky, perfectionist

Fall in love with your best friend

Have 10 best friends

Have children (at least one son)

Folklore- Gen 8: James

“I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back

I have a lot of regrets about that”

You grew up trying to meet the expectations of your politician mother. Everything had to be picture perfect, even your private life. So she set you up with the daughter of one of the most powerful families in town, Betty. At first you are skeptical, but over time you fall for her integrity and affinity for old cardigans. Along the way you begin to feel stuck, tired of the sensual politics and your mother’s watchful eye. That's when you meet August -the polar opposite of Betty- and some part of you has to know what she is like. You meet in parking lots and dive bars, but after Betty finds out, you realize that summer is dwindling. In wake of losing two girls, you turn to writing: poetry and sad prose. You get lost in your stories, but once you start to gain traction, you can’t help but wonder how different your life could have been. Will you rekindle your wild flame with August or go back to the peace you felt with Betty?

knowledge/ romance

LTW: Publish 5,000$ best seller*

Great kisser, coward, bookworm, brooding, commitment issues

Fall in love with Betty

Fall in love with August

Confess to cheating on Betty

Write novels

Move into a cottage by a lake

Finally choose the one girl

Have at least one daughter with her

Evermore- Gen 9: Ivy

“And the skeletons in both our closets

Plotted hard to fuck this up

And the old men that I’ve swindled

Really did believe I was the one”

You always resented your father because he abandoned the good life for a cottage in the woods and his stories. You don’t want that; you want power and wealth. You don't need love, just a fancy car. So you turn to crime, because it’s easy for you; you love the gold rush. You con men and no one will ever prove it. You marry rich men and inherit their money when their time runs out. But then one day you meet your match, a fellow criminal, and wonder if this life will really bring you happiness. But you realized this a little too late, and now you're forced to drink your husband's wine… but he was the wrong guy. Will you leave the life of crime behind or will you stay frozen in time?

Fortune/pleasure

LTW: Gold digger

Kleptomaniac, genius, charismatic, mean-spirited, rebellious

Go into the criminal career

Marry a rich sim

Fall in love with a criminal and have an affair

Have a son

Midnights- Gen 10: Snow

“And I don't dress for villains

Or for innocents

I'm on my vigilante shit again”

You knew your mom wasn’t the most ethically-correct person. You like to think you inherited her better half; but that isn’t entirely true. You are determined to be different, so you become a spy; you get the satisfaction of working for the good guys and the pleasure that comes with great wars. Being a spy is difficult though, and you never know when things could go wrong. You are constantly burning files and deserting old lives. But you’re a mastermind, nobody can deny that. You finally meet your perfect person, but it's hard concealing your true occupation from them. You have money and respect… But can all of that pay for someone to just know you?

Fortune/knowledge

LTW: Become head of the SCIA

Perceptive, disciplined, loner, proper, daredevil

Join the intelligence career

Move homes at least twice

The rest is up to you since it is the last generation

*50 new LTW mod can be found here

if anyone decides to do this challenge tag me! i'd love to see it

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starlostseungmin · 1 year

Note

seungmin is the type to have a roast battle with his s/o pls 😭 i feel like being his partner would be so so fun bcs u never know what this man wants to do?? he'd be like hey baby date in 10 mins and by date he means walking around the neighborhood to feed puppies or some shit like that

— claw machine, ksm.

i have merged your two soft thoughts so i hope this is just the way you were thinking about !!

side note: please do not send in requests, this is only for my soft hours writings thanks! ✨🤍

there’s never a dull moment when you two are together, with all the endless bickering and debates, the sarcasm and jokes that are half meant, seungmin would always get away with it. by what it means, he always wins. he loves to see that fuming face of yours whenever he annoys you, he would laugh at your clumsiness, especially when you fall on your face. there are times when he tries to bite your hand when you feed him food or pull away your headphones when you’re spacing out with the song you were listening to. the way he would be sweet-talking you but with a mixture of playful manner and annoying nicknames such as pipsqueak and nincompoop.

“there’s a mini-arcade at the park in the neighborhood tonight, you want to go?” he asked a while ago when you and now both of you are outside. strolling around the park where a few game booths were being installed.

“there’s a claw machine! you know i love those,” you said when he scoffed in response.

“you suck at playing that,” he said.

“ya, kim seungmin!” he loves it when you call out his name like that. a sign of triumph that he is proud of. but it is not every time he’d claim victory when he knew he has a soft spot for you. he would come back apologizing when he feels you’re upset and shower you with hugs and kisses. yet, you can’t stay mad at him, and you never felt upset, you just love acting like you were for cuddles. and because they were all jokes, seungmin would never hurt your feelings recklessly.

“what? have you ever gotten a plushie? you wasted money the last time we played together,” he retorted.

“and what? can you do any better?” you said rolling your eyes.

“stand back and watch,” he said and bought tokens from the booth. you stood beside him as he inserted two coins into the machine, he was aiming for a pochacco plush for the sake of his leisure but ended up failing on the first try.

“damn, the claws are slippery,” he sighed in disbelief and inserted coins again, still failing on the second try.

“you just suck,” you said, laughing at his grimace.

“shut up,” he said, not taking his eyes from the game and still letting the plushie slip from the claws.

“way to go, sucker,” you said rolling your eyes.

“i’m trying my best to win a plushie for you,” he said, shaking his head while you pout your lips. “don’t pout, or i’ll kiss you right here,” he smirked as you smacked his arm lightly making him laugh. “oww!”

“i hate you,” you said.

“i love you more,” and by miracle, seungmin managed to get two. one was pochacco and the other one was a pompompurin one. two of his favorite sanrio characters but of course, you share the same love as him. you didn’t know how he did that but it was awesome. “say your apologies, baby cakes, i won, not just one but two! ha!”

“eww seungmin! what the fuck did you just call me?” you said with your face painted with disgust.

“baby cakes? pfft,” he snorts.

“peasant! you maniac, i’m choosing minho’s cats over you!” seungmin made a loud gasp, dramatically.

“fine! i’m not giving you one of these and i won’t tag you along when i feed the puppies!” he said as he started to walk away, then regret started to follow.

“no, no, come back!” you cried, chasing after him but he just walked at a faster pace until he ended up running away with the two plushies while you go after him. “kim seungmin! come back here, you dimwit!” you said in between your excited laughs.

“catch me if you can! slowpoke!” he laughed and when you managed to catch him, he’d tackle you for a hug and kiss your face. “sooo, wanna go feed the puppies?” he asked, as if a tail was wagging behind him and ears being folded down. a puppy himself being excited.

“yup!”

and by that, the puppies wagged their tails while enjoying the food you brought with seungmin as you both sit on the sidewalk.

taglist : @wolfchanchan @1-800-lixie @luvhyun3 @lix-ables @zoe8stay @gwynsapphire @cherryhanji @lixesque @seungly @sleepyleeji @comet-falls @kim-seung-mo @ppiri-bahng @myjisung @snow-pegasus @milkybonya @l3visbby @wilczachannn @asters-abditory @tangylemonade @hwan-g @awkwardnesshabitat @chrispychans @therealhyunjingf @jeonginwrld @starseungs @skizzel

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standfucker · 1 year

Text

More Than Enough

Extremely belated birthday gift for @nekomacheercaptain, thanks for being a great friend these past few months! Hope it was worth the wait, thanks for your patience!

Characters: Rosinante

Reader: Cis Fem

Word Count: 11,898

CW: fluff, explicit N.SFW content, established relationship, lots of smooches, shy reader, chubby reader, lil bit of soft dom Rosi, body worship, praise, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving,) fingering, vaginal penetration, size difference, size kink, big insertion, belly bulge, slight bit of hurt/comfort, reader does not finish but has a great time so it’s all good

Summary: When Rosinante discovers that your birthday's coming up, he does what he can to make it special.

Ao3 Link

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

Rosinante’s call of your name pulls you out of your thoughts. You blink, now back in reality, and look his way. At this distance, you can see his concerned frown under the red paint, pointed opposite of the harlequin curves.

“Hm? Oh, I’m fine,” you reply quietly.

“You seem distracted.”

His eyes are soft. It’s not something you would ever see around the family. To the outside world, they are cold and aloof, all out of necessity. But the way he looks at you in private–it’s like he’s a completely different person.

All Rosinante had done was comment on the date, and you had gone quiet, a realization setting in that you didn’t know how to feel about. Knowing the stakes as you do, this long after he had divulged his secret to you, it seems trivial. Now that you’re both playing this deadly game of pretend under Doflamingo’s nose, what does it matter?

You play with the hem of your sleeve, thumb sliding across the worn threads for stimulation and comfort, a nervous habit. Rosi’s eyes settle on your busy fingers. He knows it means you’re agitated, you’re pretty sure. He’s frighteningly observant.

“It’s nothing, really,” you try to dismiss, hoping to avoid the conversation altogether.

Rosinante hesitates, unsure if he should pry. He hates making you uncomfortable, but you can tell he wants you to confide in him–he told you as much, after all, those many months ago when he revealed his voice.

“I’ve told you my secret. In exchange, you tell me yours, and we’ll call it even.”

Guilt stirs uncomfortably in your chest. Rosinante had long since earned your trust, hadn’t he? He would probably want to know.

“It’s just… It’s my birthday tomorrow,” you finally admit. “I completely forgot about it, to be honest, until just now when you mentioned the date.”

His reaction is as you feared–shock slowly morphing into excitement, his lips curling up to match the direction of the face paint. He starts to speak.

“We should do somethi–”

“No!” you cut him off, surprising you both. Then you cringe at your outburst, giving him an apologetic look. “Sorry! I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know. Birthdays can be a weird time for me. I don’t know that I want to celebrate.”

His face falls. “Oh.”

The disappointment in that little ‘oh’ reinforces the guilt. You try not to overthink it–you’re too tired from the mission Doflamingo assigned you two to let minor stresses pile up now. At least you and Rosinante had finished up early. There were still two more days until you were scheduled to meet the Numancia Flamingo, from which you would be sailing to the next island, only a day’s travel away.

For now, you took temporary refuge in a recently-abandoned house on the outskirts of town. It meant that for the next 48 hours, neither you nor Rosinante had to pretend. He seemed aware of the shrinking span of time you had left, because he had been touchier since the mission ended, even for him.

“It’s just…” Rosi takes your hand, dwarfing it in his. His thumb sweeps over your knuckles, his go-to gesture when you’re anxious. “I want to do something for you.”

“I knew you would,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips, because of course he would. He cares fiercely, as you've come to find out, for his loved ones–and somehow, somewhere along the line, you'd become one of them. It’s only natural he’d want to celebrate. And while you don’t know if you have the mental energy for an outing tomorrow, you wonder if you can make a compromise. Indulge him in indulging you.

“Spend time with me?” you suggest. “Just me and you staying in tomorrow, keeping each other company, doing absolutely nothing. That would be more than enough.”

That was what you needed. To relax for a day, to have no expectations, to give your nerves time to come down. Having Rosinante by your side for that seems like a pretty good birthday gift to you.

“You want to do nothing?” he questions, uncertain.

“Yep.”

Uncertainty turns to thoughtfulness. You know he’s tired, too.

“...I suppose we have earned a break.”

Rosinante holds you close when you go to bed that night, one huge arm across your torso tucking you against his chest like you're a stuffed animal. Your hands come to rest on his arm. He’s solid and warm against your back, bringing a sense of safety you’d never really felt in your life before knowing him.

With privacy among the family nearly impossible to find, you soak in each other’s presence as much as you can in these rare opportunities. He kisses the top of your head before settling, and you squeeze his arm in response.

“I love you,” he says sleepily.

That has you twisting in place, rolling over to face him. Even in the dark, you can clearly see those soft eyes looking down at you fondly.

Why? A part of you wants to ask. But you don’t. There will be plenty of time for doubts once you’re back around his brother. Right now, it’s just you, Rosinante, and the delicate, wild thing that’s bloomed between you this past year. Candid, honest, and trusting. The ‘why’ doesn’t matter.

So you say, “I love you too,” and you look into those adoring eyes of his when you do, to let him know you mean it.

Even as tired as he is, Rosinante’s smile is bright and giddy, more like a schoolboy whose crush held his hand rather than a three-meter tall grown man. He bends down to kiss you, and you stretch to meet him, freeing your arms from between your bodies so you can hold his face to yours.

He's holding you almost too tightly as he falls asleep, but the pressure is soothing, and once he dozes off, his grip loosens. You both tend to move in your sleep, you more so than him, so you’re not surprised to no longer be in contact when you wake the next morning. But when you reach your arm out to the other side of the bed, seeking his warmth, you find that it’s empty.

You sit up, right in time to hear the front door open. On instinct, you get tense, battle-weary nerves anticipating a possible enemy. But then you hear a thump, followed by Rosinante’s yelp, and you know all is well.

As you’d expected, a single night’s sleep wasn’t enough to ease your tension after the stresses of the mission. You’re still tired as you stretch and rise, briefly debating on just going back to sleep but deciding you wouldn’t rest as well without Rosinante there anyway.

You find him in the kitchen. There’s a bag with crumpled take-out boxes on the table, likely smashed during his fall.

“Good morning,” Rosinante says merrily, rubbing a new sore spot on his head. “Happy birthday!”

Right. Your birthday. The momentary blank look on your face makes Rosi chuckle.

“Did you forget again?”

“Um… Maybe?” you say sheepishly, pulling out a chair to plop into.

“Well, I didn’t,” he says, his proud look turning into a slight cringe when he removes the crushed boxes from the bag. He slides one over to you. “Got us breakfast. Should be intact.”

The boxes have the logo of what must be a local diner. Inside is a stack of heart-shaped waffles. Thankfully, being flat, they survived the fall without being ruined. There’s little containers of butter and syrup inside with them, upturned but miraculously still closed.

“Oh, it smells so good!” Your mouth is already watering–restaurant food was always a welcome change from boat food. “Thank you, Corazon! I was so drained from this week, I didn’t even think about what we’d eat today.”

“Sure." He beams at your response, proud of himself again. “We can figure out lunch and dinner later.”

After breakfast, you check on the laundry you had hung up the day prior. Sweat, dirt, blood–not a trace of the mission remains on them. Washing the bloodstains out of clothing by yourself had always felt sinister, like you were covering up your crimes. Doing it next to Rosinante, for some reason, was different. With him, it felt more like a cleansing ritual–sitting side by side, working to return your attire, and by extension, yourselves, to a state of normalcy. Afraid he would get the stain remover into his eyes somehow, you had forcibly taken over for him. After some initial protesting, he acquiesced, sitting you in his lap as you worked, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist.

Everything is dry except for Rosinante’s black feather coat, the thick material still damp to the touch. There are spots along the shoulders where the feathers are scratchy and stiff from having been singed, but the rest is soft. You run your hand over it, then lean in to sniff the garment without really thinking about it. Even having been washed, it still smells like him, a comforting mix of his natural scent and nicotine.

“Is it dry?”

Rosinante’s voice behind you makes you jerk away from the coat, face flushing warm. His goofy smile and the dusting of pink on his cheeks tells you that you’ve been caught.

“N-No, it’s not,” you say quickly. “Might be a while before it is, so try not to get that one dirty again soon…”

Rosinante’s smile widens, playful. “I guess that detergent smells pretty good, doesn’t it?”

The detergent you had on hand last night was unscented. He’s messing with you.

“Cora…” The heat creeps further up your cheeks.

“All sweet and floral,” he continues.

“Cora.”

“Or is it the cigarette smell you like?”

“Rosinante!” you say firmly.

He rubs the back of his neck, grinning apologetically. “Sorry, love. I’m done.”

The teasing is relatively new, something he didn’t start doing until you became fully comfortable with each other. You’re not used to it yet. It’s a bit frustrating how easily it gets to you, but you also know that on the rare moments you get the nerve to tease him back, he falls apart worse than you do.

Rosinante starts heading your way, but hesitates at the clotheslines strung across the yard. They’re at chest height to him, perfect to get tangled up in. You shake your head as you take down the last of the dry garments. At least he’s self-aware. (If only it was enough to prevent accidents.) You approach him so he doesn’t have to take the risk, and he holds his arms out, offering to take the clothes off your hands.

Rosinante's blushing when you set the bundle in his arms, and he doesn’t move right away, looking down at you with a bashful grin.

“What is it?” you ask.

“I like when you call me Rosinante.”

It’s not the first time he’s told you that, but you still get a bit flustered, averting your eyes like you haven’t slept together before. The last time he said that, he added, “but it can’t become habit,” concerned that it would potentially give you two away if it slipped out in front of the family.

This time, he must not be worrying about it, because he adds in a lower voice, “I like ‘Rosi’ even better.”

That makes you heat right back up again, and you fidget in place. “I thought you said you were done,” you mutter, poorly suppressing a smile.

“Ah, that’s right! I’m sorry. You’re just so cute, it’s hard to help.”

You shove your face into the pile of clothes he’s holding to hide the furious blush that must be tinting your skin, muffling your whine. “Rosi…”

“There it is.” He leans over and kisses the back of your head. “Mwah~! Come on, let’s go inside.”

Rosinante insists on folding the laundry, since you did most of the washing. He sits down to work, and you drape yourself against his back, your arms hanging over his shoulders and your face buried into his neck. He’s so tall compared to you that you have to be standing up to do so.

“Aren’t you tired, baby? You don’t wanna sit?” he asks.

“I’m good here,” you mumble, more than content to be close.

Taking advantage of the fact that your heads are currently level for once, Rosinante turns his head to kiss you, first on your nose, then your cheek, working his way down with soft pecks. Your giggle is cut off when he reaches your lips, his eyes fluttering closed. Responding eagerly, you angle your head for better access, making him hum in satisfaction.

“Don’t let me distract you, Rosi,” you whisper.

“How can I not be when you’re right here?” he whispers back. “Radiant as a star, with none of the family around to disturb your light.”

Given your eye bags and messy hair, you’re not sure where he’s getting ‘radiant,’ but at the same time, you understand–you’ve seen him dirtied, bloodied, and exhausted and still especially found him attractive. But you're not used to such compliments, no matter how often he gives them. The flattery is always overwhelming, because no one's really spoken to you that way before him.

At your doubtful look, Rosinante opens his mouth to add something. You know it's going to be more praise, and you're already blushing, so you shut him up with a kiss, small hands holding his face to pull him right back in.

At some point while he’s folding clothes, you’re suddenly hit by the domesticity of it. In another life, this could be your reality: Mundane. No stakes. No risking your life. Just the day-to-day upkeep that you would share, together. Maybe it’s still possible someday. Maybe, if you’re lucky, this could be your future. You hold him a little tighter at the thought, and his sigh of contentment is like warmth in sound form, melting away doubts and worries.

All that the prior house occupants had left behind in the pantry are an unopened jar of coconut oil, a tin of stale crackers, and some half-empty spice containers, so despite your initial plan to stay in, the two of you decide to go into town for lunch. The weather’s nice for an outing anyway, sunny and temperate with a light breeze. You hold hands as you walk and discuss your plans, settling on getting lunch from a restaurant and then buying some groceries to make dinner yourselves.

You’ve finished with lunch and are walking to the market when a storefront catches your eye, the rows of transponder snails sitting by the window standing out. They’re arranged in a neat display, though their purpose isn’t immediately obvious, as it doesn’t look like a typical snail-breeding operation. Rosinante encourages your curiosity, and the both of you duck into the store to see what’s going on. The clerk is happy to explain–the snails are actually visual transponder snails available to rent, each one having memorized three films they can project. It’s your first time seeing such a service, and you can’t help but be impressed as you browse the options, each snail resting next to a card with its films listed.

“Three entire films, huh?” you muse, picking up one of the snails and scratching along its shell until it purrs. “That’s pretty impressive. Aren’t you neat, you cute little thing?”

The snail withdraws slightly into its shell, eyestalks still poking out, but it won’t look at you, which makes you giggle. “Aww, Cora, I think it’s shy.”

Rosinante glances at the store clerk, currently a ways away but still within earshot, and then snaps his fingers, creating a small bubble of silence around the two of you. At this point, you recognize the ability when it manifests, though you don’t know why he chose to use it right then, especially so close to a civilian.

“It reminds me of someone,” Rosinante says cheekily, clownish grin stretching when you predictably get flustered.

So he didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the clerk, but still felt that teasing you was necessary enough to risk being seen using his power? Before you can come up with a clever retort or admonishment, however, he drops the bubble, forcing you to keep it to yourself lest you sound like a crazy person. You try to communicate your disapproval with a pointed look, which promptly fails on account of your blush and only serves to make him chuckle.

After you pick out a snail and continue on your way to the market, you’ve calmed down enough that your stern expression actually comes off as stern.

“I can’t believe you did that,” you chide, “taking such a risk just for the sake of teasing me. Really, Corazon…”

“Well, I won’t be able to once we meet up with the family,” he says casually, “I’m trying to get it all out of my system while I can.”

“Is that even possible for you?” you joke as you side-eye him, knowing full well that Rosinante can be a bit… unhinged, at times.

That harlequin grin returns. “Maybe not, but I don’t think you mind nearly as much as you act like you do.”

There was that keen observation of his again. Sometimes you could be apprehensive over just how well he knew you. But other times, on those long nights where you were stuck deep in your own head, and he would just know without you saying a thing, and he would come to your side and wordlessly hold you close–those times reminded you that this was what trust was supposed to be like. Even if a small, dark part of you kept waiting to be taken advantage of, it never happened.

“Even so,” Rosinante adds, “if it’s too much, you know, just say the word. I’ll stop.”

A sharp swell of gratitude in you threatens to form tears, and you look away from him, taking a deep breath to hold it in. What did you do to deserve him? To show you’re not upset, you squeeze his hand, but he still picks up on your distress, lightly returning the pressure.

“Y/n?” he questions.

“I’m okay.” You compose yourself with another breath and smile up at him. “I love you, Rosi. That’s all.”

Rosinante’s cheeks turn a shade of pink that matches the hearts on his shirt. Then, breaking out into a delighted grin, he picks you right off of the ground in a tight hug. You immediately wrap your arms and legs around him in turn, both of you giggling.

“As hard as the mission was,” you say, “I’m glad it was just us two. I’m glad I don’t have to spend my birthday with anyone else.”

“Me too.” Rosinante kisses your cheek, and you push him away half-heartedly.

“You’ll smear your paint again.”

“So what?”

“We’re trying not to stand out, remember?”

His huffy pout is so childish it makes you giggle again.

“You’re right…”

After you return to the house and put the groceries away, you spend the next hour or so unwinding from the trip. There’s a bookshelf in the living room with a variety of paperbacks, so you take advantage, each picking out one that looks interesting. Rosinante manages to knock the entire bookshelf over somehow, getting pelted by a small avalanche of books. Once you help put them away, the two of you curl up against each other to read on the rather large couch in the living room, big enough to hold even his bulk. The exhaustion from the previous week still lingers, as you both end up falling asleep, you leaning on his broad chest and soothed by the lullaby drumming of his heartbeat.

When you wake up next, you finally feel refreshed. Coming back to consciousness to the feel of his large body against yours is a soul-deep comfort, one you wish you could enjoy more often. If only you didn’t have to hide your relationship… You idly trace formless shapes on his chest, mulling the thought over like you have hundreds of times before, and he begins to stir.

The slight movement draws your attention. Rosinante had passed out hard enough to drool a bit in his sleep, and as you reach up to wipe it from his chin, he grabs your wrist, pulling your fingers to his lips to kiss them sleepily.

“Rest well?” you ask, smiling.

“Mm. Always do, when I’m with you,” he responds, kissing your palm next.

You sigh. “Cora…”

“Something on your mind?” He lowers your hand so he can fix his marigold eyes on yours, searching and curious.

You hesitate, mustering up the courage to share your thoughts. “I was just thinking… If we revealed to Doffy that we’re seeing each other, maybe we could be close more often. Share quarters instead of sneaking around. We could have this every night…”

Rosinante sits up, shifting you to sit onto his lap. He’s pensive, frowning slightly, the look alone making anxious nerves unsettle your stomach. As always, though, he notices, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back to show he’s not mad.

“I have thought about that,” he says after a minute, “but I want to save that information.”

“Save it?”

“As my brother gains momentum, the stakes only continue to rise, as do the risks we take. If we are ever out doing something conspiratorial against him, and, god forbid, he catches wind of it… I want to be able to use our relationship as an alibi. So I can tell him that we were just trying to hide that we’re dating.“

So that was his plan. Moments like these were a sobering reminder of his true nature–ever the cautious spy, strategically manipulating any and all information available to him. You imagine Doflamingo’s response to hearing that. After years spent in his service, it’s not difficult–you can picture his demonic grin clearly in your mind, and how it would widen upon the revelation. ‘A relationship? Why would you hide such a thing from me, dear brother?’

“He’d question why you went to lengths to hide that.”

“But he knows you,” Rosinante says, wiping the drool from his chin with the back of his hand. “He knows you’re shy, and he’s still under the impression I’m reserved. It might be enough to convince him. On the off chance that it could save us…”

You nod, if a bit reluctantly. “I understand.”

His smile is wistful, at first, before he puts on a more confident front, bending over to press his forehead to yours. “I’ll find ways to be close to you, Y/n. No matter what. Okay?”

“Okay.” You cup his face, mindful not to smear the paint, and he wraps his arms around your back. You both stay like that for a while, like you can combat an uncertain future by figuratively and literally holding onto each other. And maybe it’s just because you’re head-over-heels for him, but sometimes, his embrace feels a lot like hope.

You make dinner for the both of you, outright refusing to let him help, knowing no good can come of him being around open flames or knives. After eating, you set up the video transponder snail, settling on the couch to watch the films. By then, Rosinante’s coat has fully dried, and he lets you curl up in it, more like a massive blanket in comparison to your body. He must get a kick out of seeing you practically drowning in the fabric, because he can’t stop giggling to himself as he tucks it around you.

Having not been familiar with most of the films advertised at the store, you had picked out the snail at random. The first film turns out to be enjoyable, a lighthearted but thrilling espionage flick that Rosinante can’t resist making comments on.

“That’s not how that works…”

“It’s just pretend, Rosi.”

“Still-!”

The both of you are lying down by the time the second film starts, your back to his chest, his hand resting on your hip. You’re not really paying this film much attention, focused more on the soft joys of the present: his scent surrounding you, the heat of his body that you can feel even through the coat, the sense of safety you get from being in proximity.

Rosinante must not be paying attention to the film, either, because after a while, he noses into your hair and breathes in deep. A moment later, his lips press to the back of your neck.

“Mm…” You shift a bit. “Rosi?”

“I know you said you don’t want to celebrate your birthday, but…” He doesn’t pull away from your neck to speak, and you can’t tell if the goosebumps that result come from the tickling of his lips on your skin or his deep baritone in your ear. “Can I make you feel good?”

A pulse of excitement runs through you at the husky intent in his voice, but it’s quickly tempered by doubt. It’s not like you haven’t done it before, but you’re self-conscious regardless, since…

“You know I won’t be able to finish,” you remind him.

It kills you that because of your issue, Rosinante can’t even do that much for you. He’s well acquainted with your struggle by now, and while it’s never stopped him from seeking this type of closeness, you still feel guilty. But it’s like he can sense your shame, because he kisses the back of your neck again as if to soothe your worries.

“That’s okay,” he murmurs. “So long as you enjoy yourself.”

That swell of gratitude returns in full force, rising in your chest along with such a strong surge of love that it almost hurts. You roll over to face him. He’s already blushing from the proposition, and you feel the heat start to crawl up your own cheeks.

“I love you so much,” you confess. “Yes, Rosi, you can. I… I want it. I want you…”

That giddy schoolboy grin returns for a moment, and then it changes, becoming something far more subdued and adult, his eyes half-lidding as he cradles your face in both hands.

“Then you’ll have me.”

Rosinante kisses you softly at first, pacing himself like he’s committing the feeling to memory. Then you grab onto the open collar of his shirt, and the tug of fabric triggers something in him, arms wrapping around you as he brings a heat that wasn’t present in any of the sweet kisses throughout the day. You can sense the change, his intent seeming to flow directly into your veins from his mouth like venom, burning you up in a good way. He’s measured, even restrained when he swipes his tongue along the seam of your mouth, only for his breath to hitch when you reciprocate, you parting your lips to curl your smaller tongue around his. His resulting moan comes from deep in his gut, stirring heat in yours.

Without breaking the kiss, he lets go of your face in order to peel his coat off of you, tossing it out of the way and swallowing your little noise of protest before his hands are right back on you, pulling you even closer. You reach up to grab the tails of his hat, eagerly pressing your body against his as you return everything he gives you.

Breaking for air lets him get a good look at your face, flushed and panting, and he curses at the sight of his face paint smeared across your swollen lips.

“Fuck, Y/n… Seeing my paint all messy on you–it does things to me,” he admits breathlessly, pupils blown wide.

“I could say the same,” you smile, as his is smudged just as badly. It would look ridiculous if it wasn’t so hot.

Rosinante kisses you again, open-mouthed and passionate. Given that he’s larger in every way, all parts of him proportionate to his height, even his tongue is that much bigger, filling up your mouth when he thrusts it past your lips. You moan around his tongue, and again when his large hands start to roam your body, greedily feeling you up. The tails of his hat aren’t sturdy enough for your liking, so you pull it off his head and bury your fingers directly into his hair, gripping the blond locks tightly enough to make him groan into your mouth. He starts to kiss and nibble along your jaw, muttering huskily in between each one.

“Could smear it elsewhere,” kiss, “could smear it all over you,” nip, “d’you want that, baby girl?”

“Ah! Rosi, y-yes! Please!”

His low chuckle sends a spike of heat between your legs, another one following when he rolls you onto your back, hovering over your form. “There’s my good girl.”

You whimper at the praise as Rosinante kisses his way down your neck, gliding his hands up and down your sides before hooking them under the hem of your shirt. He peels it up with reverence, like he’s unwrapping a long-anticipated gift, slow and methodical. You raise your arms to help him remove it, then undo the clasp of your bra yourself, figuring he’d only struggle with his large fingers. You let him remove your bra the rest of the way, too, knowing he enjoys disrobing you, though feeling a wave of embarrassment at how he sucks in a breath once your breasts are exposed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, awestruck, and you can’t help but cover your face. He always acts like he’s never seen you naked before.

Rosinante pulls your hands away, kisses you with tongue, then replaces your hands where they were, making you giggle. Then he presses his face between your breasts with a muffled sigh, enjoying the feel of your body for a moment before he shifts himself lower, mouth leaving a stripe of red down your front until his head rests on your stomach. His fingers sink into the doughy flesh of your hips, and you tense only for a moment before relaxing.

“You okay, baby?” he checks in.

“Mhm,” you assure him, “feels good.”

By now, you were used to how Rosinante reacted to your body, but the first time you had been intimate, you froze up at his touches.

“It doesn’t bother you?” you had asked him as he kissed your hip, trailing his lips along a stretch mark.

“Hm?” His eyes, glassy with lust, flicked up to meet yours, making you shiver. “Does what?”

“My, um…” Unable to say it, you grabbed your stomach to illustrate your point.

Rosinante followed your gaze down to your hands. There was a beat where he just blinked, unsure of what you meant, before his eyes widened with realization. Then he blushed even deeper. Tentatively, his hands came to rest over yours on your stomach, and then he gently pulled them away so he could lay his head there instead.

“Silly girl…”

The way he said it, like he was in on something you weren’t, went straight between your legs. He let go of your hands so he could lecherously squeeze at your thighs again.

“You have no idea…” he whispered, and kissed your stomach with the same veneration of one kissing the foot of a revered statue. “...No idea what you do to me.”

Finding out he liked it–once you got over the initial shyness–had been a major confidence booster, even if it veered on overwhelming at times. Rosinante’s size may have made you weak-kneed if you dwelled on it too much, and his hidden gentleness had its draw, of course, but the sexiest thing about him was just how into you he was.

His lips press to your stomach the same way they did that first time together, and thanks to the sheer size of him, the purr in his throat sounds more like a growl.

“You’re so soft, Y/n…” His tongue dips out to taste your skin.

“Ah!” You squirm. “Rosi-!”

Rosinante’s grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place. “Can’t get enough…” He licks his way to the top of your hip, where he starts sucking a bruise that has you whimpering. His hands travel lower to wrap around your thighs, and then, without warning, he suddenly drags you further beneath him, so his head is level with your neck, handling you like the tiny thing you are in comparison. You gasp at how easy it is for him, and again, breathier, when his lips touch your shoulder.

He’s gotten bolder in bed. You would have never imagined it from how cautious he was your first few times together, but Rosinante was keen. This long into your relationship, he’d zeroed in on what you liked–not that you made it all that difficult, reacting rather strongly whenever he manhandled you a little. Sure enough, between that and his earlier kisses, you already feel yourself growing slick.

“Soft,” he repeats, kissing your skin. “Sweet.” His mouth skims along your shoulder until he’s at the curve of your neck. “Like something to be eaten…” He bites into the tender flesh, drawing a moan from you.

“Rosi,” you whine, a little gasp escaping when he starts sucking on the spot. “Mm-! Please! D-Don’t tease me!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he mutters, then promptly contradicts his words with another gentle bite.

“Rosi!”

“Sorry, baby girl… Hard to help when it makes you sound like that.” He kisses your neck in apology. “I’ll take care of you, promise...”

True to his word, Rosinante pushes you back up the couch so he’s positioned over your hips this time. The removal of your pants and underwear is treated with the same careful devotion that he did your shirt, savoring the act almost as much as what will follow. He doesn’t hesitate once you’re fully nude, immediately kissing your mons despite the soft curls of hair, then kissing your outer lips, groaning with heady anticipation.

“Spread your legs for me,” he directs, the command making you throb. There's something immensely appealing about knowing he could easily do it himself, but having you do as he says anyway. He sucks his lower lip between his teeth when you comply, entranced by the display. “Oh, good girl, so pretty. I’m so lucky…”

Before you have a chance to react shyly to that, he dips his head and licks a broad stripe from the bottom to the top of your slit, and your back arches at the electric contact, a small cry slipping out.

“So wet for me,” Rosinante moans. “Tell me if you need to stop, okay?”

With that, he dives back in, warming you up with slow, persistent licks, large tongue spread flat against your entire slit. Only a few seconds in and you’re already whimpering and squirming, prompting him to hook his muscular arms around your thighs to hold you still. The strength in his grip is almost as intoxicating as his enthusiasm, all the shrewd composure he’s forced to uphold for his mission gone, not even an afterthought when presented with the opportunity to indulge himself. He’s like a different person when he’s between your legs, usual modesty replaced by something carnal and hungry.

Rosinante eats you out like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance, shameless and thorough, deftly weaving his tongue between the folds of your inner lips before suckling on them. He gives quick, toying flicks of his tongue along your entrance, teasing the idea but not yet penetrating, and you can’t stop yourself from thrusting slightly into his mouth, which makes him tighten his grip on you.

“Oh-! Oh! Rosi!” you whine, unable to escape the blissful onslaught, fingers digging uselessly at the couch.

He’s noisy about it, too, not just because of the wet, messy slurping, but because he won’t stop moaning against your cunt, like he’s on another plane of being. While he claimed to be doing this for you, you suspect, even despite how incredible it feels, that he’s the one getting more out of this. He doesn’t let up for a single moment. You’re not sure how he’s breathing.

From the very start of your sexual relationship, Rosinante has always had a natural aptitude for giving head, and he’s only gotten better with time. He reads your body effortlessly, attentive nature serving him well for the task, knowing when to be consistent and when to switch it up. He’ll lick in one direction for a while, then, right before you become used to it to the point of the pleasure diminishing, he’ll change direction, interspersing with a new sensation that has your toes curling.

Once he’s decided you’re warmed up enough, he starts being more precise, using the tip of his tongue for more pinpoint stimulation in between the steady, rhythmic licks. Then he licks a long stripe from the bottom to the top of your slit again, except this time, he finishes by circling around your engorged clit. You arch deeper, if possible, as you cry out, burying your fingers in his hair and tugging hard, and he moans even louder. There’s a brief pause where he takes a breath–more of a gasp of your name, really–and then he’s buried his face between your legs again, focusing his attention on your clit, flicking and lapping his tongue at it like it’s his goal to get you to pull his hair out. Your noises, your writhing, the slight pain of your grip on his hair, all of it drives Rosinante mad, self-control slipping as he starts to buck his hips into the couch now and then while he goes down on you.

Right as the attention to your clit becomes too much, he snakes his tongue down and finally penetrates you, licking and undulating along your walls. Thrusting as deep as he can go, he curls his tongue to collect your slick at the source before drawing it back into his mouth to swallow it down, groaning depravedly at the taste. He never slows down, either, tongue-fucking you with a drive bordering on obsessive.

You’re almost as noisy as Rosinante is, now, hopeless to stop each shaky little whimper and moan of his name that he so expertly coaxes out of you. With his relentless pace and excellent attention to detail, it’s only a matter of time before it all becomes overstimulating.

“Rosi,” you gasp, tapping his shoulder. “Rosi, it’s too much.”

He looks a complete mess when he lifts his head, hair disheveled, mouth and chin shiny with slick and drool, almost no face paint left on him, likely all smeared on your vulva–you’ll definitely need a shower later. With the color and thickness of his hair, his reluctant look reminds you somewhat of a golden retriever that’s been called by its owner to leave the dog park.

“Just a little more?” he asks with an innocence that has no place being there after how he just ate you out.

You giggle, both at that and because this was supposed to be about you, but you’re flattered that he can’t help himself when it comes to your body. “Give me a minute to recover, first. Then you can keep going. But slow down a bit when you do, okay?”

He rests his head on your thigh. “Whatever you need, baby girl. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

You lay your head back, catching your breath as you come down. Rosinante busies himself with marking up your inner thighs in the meantime, nibbling and sucking one bruise after another while you stroke his hair appreciatively. Once your nerves have settled, you give him the okay, and he wastes no time getting back to work.

Rosinante adjusts his hold on your thighs and drags your body closer, grinding your cunt right against the flat of his tongue as your fingers find their way into his hair again. He doesn’t stop you from rolling your hips into him, encouraging it with a gratified moan. Pleasure builds back up gradually, only to spike too high when he turns his attention to your clit again.

“Slow, Rosi,” you remind him, and he grunts an affirmative, easing up significantly.

One of his arms unhooks from your thigh, large hand squeezing your rear before he slips it between your bodies. As promised, he moves slowly when he penetrates you with a thick finger, but you still arch from the contact–his fingers are so much bigger than yours, and taking his time means the sensation is drawn out that much longer.

“Oh!” Your gasp is only pleasured, but he checks in anyway.

“This okay?”

“Yesss,” you moan, making him chuckle.

Mindful of your sensitivity, Rosinante pumps his finger at a leisurely, unhurried pace, relishing in each of your twitches and cries.

“What a good girl you are, Y/n,” he praises, then licks along the side of your clit, just once. “Letting me do this to you behind closed doors…” His tongue sweeps over your nub again. “You’re sweet all over, aren’t you, baby?”

He keeps from overstimulating you by breaking up each pass of his tongue with praise, until you don’t know if it’s his mouth or his words that’s making your breath catch in your throat.

“Your moans are so cute.”

“I love how you try to hold back…”

“You don’t need to, Y/n.”

“After all… This is all for me.”

“All mine to see, to hear, to taste. My girl...”

Rosinante curls his finger, and you cry his name. He’s gentle but insistent, sparking little pulses of pleasure through your core. It doesn’t build up much, but you ride it as long as you can, until your enjoyment starts to wane and there’s more friction than you’d like.

“Rosi, I–I need a break,” you tap his shoulder in signal, and he withdraws from you.

“You lasted longer that time,” Rosinante notes, then grabs your thigh and drags you underneath him so he’s at eye level with you again. Despite how he moves you as he pleases, he looks at you like you’re an angel gracing the earth. “You taste so damn good… Want me to show you?” He sticks out his tongue devilishly.

You consent by reaching for his face, pulling him in for a messy kiss that tastes of your slick. He probes his tongue deep, making sure to fill your mouth with the slippery tang. You moan softly in approval, and the thought that you like it turns him on so much he’s bucking slightly again in response. If it wasn’t for the significant height difference, he’d be grinding against you, but with your heads currently level, his hips are below your own.

Rosinante growls into your mouth, hands roaming your body to grab and squeeze as he likes. You can feel the rumble of it in your chest, and along with the dizzying taste of your slick and his covetous groping, you find yourself craving even more of him, like the depth of his need has rubbed off on you. Your hand trails down, reaching for his pants, but alas, he’s too damn tall for you to get any further than his abs. He picks up on it, though.

“You want my cock?” Rosinante whispers huskily, thrusting into the couch again.

“Yes, yes, please, Rosi!” you beg, and he grins at your desperation.

“I thought you needed a break.”

“Don’t be mean! It’s my birthday…” A cheap card to pull, maybe, but you’ll say anything at this point to get what you want.

Rosinante chuckles and kisses you, gently biting your lower lip. “Think it’ll fit this time?”

Even after all of his prior attention, the words pool fresh heat between your legs, an anticipatory shudder running up your spine. “Let’s try?” you ask. “Pretty please?”

“Like I could say no to you.” He kisses you again, groaning when you grind your crotch against his stomach. “Just don’t push yourself if it hurts.”

Rosinante’s eyes glaze over as he watches you hastily unbutton his shirt, taken at your impatience and at how avidly you run your hands down the soft fuzz of his chest once it’s exposed. He’s already undone the button of his pants earlier for some relief from the tightness, and there’s a wet spot on the fabric you don’t miss. He takes enough mercy on you to remove his own bottoms quickly, sliding both off in one motion. His cock springs against his stomach, fully hard and leaking, leaving a smear of precum on his abdomen. Like the rest of him, it’s proportionate to his size, far bigger than anything someone your height was probably meant to take. The length and girth would be more intimidating if it was attached to anyone else, but Rosinante was always mindful of your limits, taking the utmost care anytime you attempted penetration. Still, you can only fight the confines of anatomy so much, and as such, there’s only been a few times that you’ve been able to take him, all of which involved the assistance of lubricant.

Rosinante sits up with his back against the couch, and you eagerly straddle him, scooting forward until your clit’s pressed against the base of his twitching cock. The tip reaches past your navel, promising an incredible stretch if you can manage to fit him.

“Take it nice and slow, okay? Don’t force yourself,” he says as he rests his hands on your hips, helping you position yourself over him. He gasps at your touch when you reach to line him up with your entrance, your fingers not meeting even around the head of his dick.

His energy has changed, all earlier lust now controlled under a tight leash, restrained but brimming beneath the surface. You can feel it in the twitch of his fingers on your hips, and in his shaky breathing as he watches you lower yourself onto him. You both let out a breath when the blunt head of him presses against you. The delicate walls of your entrance are gradually spread wider and wider, stretching to accommodate the intrusion. There’s a dull tinge of pain, one that’s not concerning enough to stop you yet. But despite how wet you are from earlier, it’s still not enough to compensate for his girth, and you find yourself unable to get even the head of his cock fully inside without the friction becoming too painful.

Frustration pushes you to try again. You want him badly, you want to be close in this way, you’ve done it before–you know it’s possible. The resulting pain of your attempt shows in your grimace, making Rosi halt your progress with a firm hold on your hips.

“Baby, stop,” he says, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. “It’s not worth it if it hurts you.”

“I’m so close,” you whine. “I know I can do it.”

“You sure?” His thumb strokes your temple. “Listen to your body, Y/n. If it’s too much, there’s no shame in calling it off for today. We can try again next time.”

You make one more valiant attempt with no luck. Since you’ve taken him before, you have an idea of what to expect when it goes right, and this does not feel like one of those times. It just wasn’t going to happen without lube. Sighing, you dismount, trying not to feel too disappointed. Finishing him with your mouth is a fun option, too, but you were looking forward to riding him…

Then you remember something.

“Wait,” your eyes widen in realization, “the coconut oil.”

“Hm?” He tilts his head cutely.

“There was some left behind in the pantry, remember? I’m pretty sure that’s body-safe…”

Rosinante considers it, then shakes his head. “It’s probably contaminated, or expired.”

“I think it’s still sealed.”

“Is it?” He blinks for a moment, like he can’t believe the luck. Then he jumps to his feet with a hastiness that betrays his excitement, only to slip on nothing and fall hard on his ass. Undeterred, he hops right back to his feet, but is stopped by you grabbing his wrist.

“Nuh-uh, you stay here. I’ll get it,” you assert, picturing him retrieving the jar only to wipe out and let it shatter onto the floor. If that happened you might actually cry.

“I understand,” Rosinante says. You meet each other’s eye and immediately know you’re picturing the same thing, making you both break into giggles. Rosinante pulls you in for a kiss before plopping back down onto the couch, his dick bobbing enticingly from the action. “You gonna stare or you gonna hurry it up, then?”

Caught, you can only flash him a playful grin before you dart into the kitchen. (Wandering through someone else’s home nude always feels a bit awkward, but knowing it’s been abandoned helps ease the discomfort somewhat.) The coconut oil is unrefined, thankfully. Bringing it back to the couch, you scan the label to make sure it’s still in date. The lid is stuck tightly enough to prove it’s still sealed, resisting your attempts to open it until Rosinante twists it off in one easy motion that has you staring at his flexing forearms. He sniffs the contents before offering it to you to inspect. It smells light and faintly sweet, and the pure white color along with the smooth consistency reassures you that it’s safe.

You straddle Rosinante again. He’s so broad your legs don’t reach the couch when you do, but his muscular thighs are sturdy enough that it doesn’t matter. He bites back a whine when you start applying the coconut oil, bucking into your hands.

“Oh, shit. Your hands are so warm,” he moans.

“I’m even warmer on the inside,” you joke.

His chuckle breaks into a gasp when your hand passes over the head of his cock. You keep eye contact while you work, reveling in the flushed, needy way he watches you, this giant of a man now putty in your hands.

“You need–mm, fuck–you need some, too,” he pants, dipping two fingers into the jar and prompting you to raise your hips. Slick with oil, both of his thick fingers slip inside you without resistance, causing you to grab his forearm for stability as pleasure buzzes through you like static. He fingers the oil in deep, eyes half-lidding as you grind into his palm. “There you go…”

While Rosinante seems content to watch you fuck yourself on his hand, you have no intention of getting this messy only to not go all the way.

“I’m ready, I’m ready, come on,” you insist, and he curls his fingers teasingly before he withdraws them just to hear you moan. He wipes the excess oil on his hips before grabbing hold of yours, helping you position yourself again.

“Take it slow,” he says softly, watching your face for signs of pain.

The lube makes a world of difference, eliminating that threshold of friction that stopped you before. Holding your breath seems involuntary, an instinctive response to the feeling of your walls gloving the broad head of his dick. The stretch seems endless as you gradually lower yourself, slick flesh sliding past with little resistance until you’re spread impossibly wide around the first few inches. Rosinante reminds you to breathe through gritted teeth, his strained expression telling you just how good it feels. You don’t need the added motivation, plenty resolved to keep going for the euphoric stretch alone, but knowing it’s just as good for him only makes it better. A helpless little whimper falls out as you take a few more inches, holding onto his forearms for support. He’s thicker toward the tip, so once you conquer the first half, the rest is a matter of patience rather than struggle.

“Gods, Rosi,” you breathe, legs trembling as you work your hips in little up-and-down motions to open yourself further. “You’re so big. So big...”

Rosinante moans, head falling back on the couch. “Oh, fuck. Say it again.”

“You’re so big, Rosi!” Your eyes roll back as you sink another inch, his girth stretching you to your very limit until, finally, he’s more or less bottomed out. There are a few inches of him still left out, beyond what you can physically fit, but the fact that you can manage to take the majority of him at all is an amazing feat on its own.

You stay still for a moment, basking in the bliss of being filled near to bursting, the taught stretch of your walls shooting hot pulses of sensation through your pelvic floor without him moving. Even the slight edge pain feels incredible, cutting through the pleasure and keeping you grounded and aware of everything you’re feeling.

“You are warm,” Rosinante says, and even with him essentially in your guts, you can’t help but giggle. He shifts just slightly, but the slick movement inside you has you gasping and clenching down hard, making him groan and tighten his grip on your hips. He bends down to press his forehead against yours, lust morphing his expression into being both broken and ravenous as he looks into your eyes.

“Tell me how it feels,” he demands breathily, almost against your lips.

“It feels so good!” you moan without shame. “Rosi, it feels so good.”

“There’s my girl.” He splays his fingers over your abdomen, feeling the distinct bulge of himself through the flesh with a pleased hiss. “You look so damn good like this. Love the sight of you stuffed full of my cock.”

You clench at the words and rock your hips forward, making you both moan in tandem, and again when you start steadily moving up and down his length. His hands on your hips keep you stable, supporting but not guiding your movements, letting you go at your own pace while he mutters filth in your ear.

“Can’t believe you took all of me… What a greedy little cunt you have, Y/n. Such a good girl, opening up for me…”

Rosinante kisses you roughly, drawing messy stripes on your tongue while you fuck yourself on his cock. You try to pay it back once he pulls away, praises spilling from your lips when you have enough presence of mind to do something other than whimper. But where Rosinante can dish it out, it seems he cannot not take it, because after only a few enamored ravings of how big he is and how good he feels, he’s suddenly stuffing two fingers in your mouth to silence you.

“If you keep talking like that, I’ll cum too soon,” he rasps, but it immediately backfires when you start sucking on his fingers, making him twitch and curse. “Fuck! Little demoness, you like that too?”

He’s plugging your mouth with the fingers that were inside you earlier, and maybe it’s just because of the sex high, but the lingering taste of yourself alongside the sweetness of the coconut oil combines into something incredible. You let him know with a moan, sliding the tip of your tongue between and around his fingers as he presses down on the back of it.

Your body’s more adjusted to him now, letting you ride him harder and faster. His gaze flicks between your fucked-out expression, a little drool trailing from the corner of your lips, to the point where your bodies meet, watching himself disappear in your heat. After the rigors of the mission, you can’t maintain the pace for very long, tiring earlier than you normally would–unfortunately, your stamina can’t keep up with your need, but Rosinante always has plenty to spare.

You pull his fingers out of your mouth with a wet gasp. “Rosi, I need help. Please–”

“I got you, baby girl.”

He adjusts his grip on your hips, getting a more secure hold so he can lead your movements rather than just guide them. The passing of control to him is unspoken, an agreement given with intent gazes instead of words. You feel completely safe in giving yourself to him fully, letting your tired legs relax as he takes over, and in turn, he’s careful in the way he bounces you on his length. He sets a faster pace than how you were taking him, but doesn’t go as hard as you’d like–thankfully, at this point in your relationship, you’re better at communicating your needs.

“Harder, Rosi,” you pant, “I need it harder.”

The brief flash of his grin is your only warning before one of his hands wraps around your thigh and yanks you further down onto him, spearing his length in as deep as it’ll go. The breath is knocked out of you as his cockhead nudges your cervix, but the intensity with which you clamp down on him, along with your full-body shudder, tells him all he needs to know.

“You even like that, huh? You like when I use you like a plaything. Filthy, needy girl…”

You cry out in agreement as Rosinante takes you harder, thrusting up into you while pulling you down to meet his hips. The furrow in his brow and the grit of his teeth indicates he’s close and trying to hold out, tapping into that crazy willpower of his in order to please you for as long as he can. Each deep thrust works you further into a blissful haze, coiling pleasure in your gut until you can barely keep your head up–you can barely do anything aside from moan. He tilts your chin up with one finger, slowing down slightly so he can steal another kiss. Neither of you can maintain it very long with you both breathing heavily from exertion, but you stay close, lips parted and panting against each other.

You go from bracing your arms on his chest, to his shoulders, to raking your nails down the scarred expanse of his arms, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingers. His gaze is fixed on yours, and you couldn’t look away if you wanted to. Even with his pupils blown wide and his eyes half-lidded, it’s every bit as adoring as it always is in private, but there’s something deeper to it now. It’s in the years of him having watched your back, it’s in the long process that was the gradual lowering of your defenses, it’s in getting to the point you could be so mutually vulnerable, it’s in wanting to make each other feel good out of love and nothing else. You wished you could exist in this moment forever, just to be close in the ultimate way.

No matter how good Rosinante feels, it never builds right. You wish you could cum. You want to experience that with him. But at the same time, you know he won’t be upset with you for it. And so, when you inevitably feel the pleasure start to wane in a way that indicates oncoming discomfort, you feel no shame in speaking up.

“I can’t… Rosi, I can’t go much longer.”

Rosinante immediately slows down. “Want me to stop?”

“No, I–I want you to cum.”

His eyes darken, and he leans in to whisper in your ear. “Where do you want it, baby girl?”

“Inside.”

You can feel his dick twitch when you say it, and he rests his head on your shoulder with a low groan.

“Fuck. Okay. Sure, I can do that for you.”

Rosinante plants a sloppy kiss on your neck before turning toward the long end of the couch, gently laying you back without pulling out. He repositions you both into a more comfortable missionary, resting his burly arms above you.

“This feel okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, s’good.” You raise a hand to touch his cheek. “This way I can see your face when you cum.”

Got him. It took all day, but you finally turned the tables for once, and the result is a wonderful sight to behold. Even flushed with exertion, the blush across his face deepens to a shade you’ve rarely seen before, his jaw going slack. To his credit, he recovers quickly, bringing a hand to cup yours on his cheek and grinning down at you.

“Guess I deserved that after all of today.” He turns his head to kiss your hand. “I won’t be much longer, but stop me if you need to, yeah?”

“I will.”

“Good girl.”

Rosinante lets go of your hand to trail it down your side, settling on your hip to anchor you in place as he starts thrusting. He’s only slow for the first few thrusts, quickly working himself back up to a firm, brisk pace. Having held out until now, it doesn’t take him long to get back to the edge, evident by the way his groans deepen and intersperse with broken gasps. Just as erotic as the sound of him is the sight of him, abs flexing as his huge body rolls into you. It’s enough to spark your weary nerves back to attention, dragging the pleasure out one last time.

“Fuck, it’s so good,” he moans, “always so tight, every damn time.”

Rosinante curls over you like he can’t hold himself up anymore, his head pressed to your shoulder, but it doesn’t slow the pounding of his hips at all, nor does it stop him from singing your praises into your ear.

“My sweet girl, so good to me. Love you so much, love that you’re mine…”

The husky devotion with which he says it has you throwing your head back onto the cushions and arching into his thrusts, whimpering when it angles him perfectly into your g-spot. The sound must trigger something in him, because his talking plummets from praise into filth faster than an angel falling from grace.

“You’re right, Y/n. We should tell my brother about us. That way I could fuck you every night, ‘til I’ve molded you to the shape of my cock. You’d get so used to it I wouldn’t need to hold back, and you’d fucking love the process, wouldn’t you? Begging me to fuck your pussy even though you can barely take it. We could even fuck in the room right next him and thanks to my power, he’d never even hear you screaming my name.”

“Rosi!” you cry, throwing your arms over what part of his back you can reach and digging your nails in. “Don’t you dare hold back! Give me everything, right now!”

It’s not a request he’s ever really granted you, but drunk as he currently is on the pleasures of your body–and maybe because it’s your birthday–he relents this once. A deep, uncharacteristic growl rumbles in his chest as his thrusts turn brutal, one arm braced above your head. His other hand’s wrapped around your thigh to keep you from bouncing off him from the force, ironlike grip keeping you in place so he never slips out. For a short but wonderful amount of time, you’re at the mercy of the brunt of him, just like you’d asked. At no other time does the scope of his size come into perspective like when he’s throwing all that weight behind his thrusts, three meters of solid muscle bullying your insides. It hurts a bit, but you’re treated to the incredible sight that is Rosinante on the edge, gritting his teeth and groaning like a beast, completely lost to higher thought.

“Gonna cum,” he gasps, and then he’s chanting your name like a sacred incantation, each time a little louder. His pace stutters, grip on your thigh tightening, and he pulls you down on him one last time, thrusting as deep as he can go and staying there with a penultimate moan. You can feel his length throb and pulse as he releases, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

For a minute, neither of you move, catching your breath and weakly holding each other. Then he pulls out, the absence feeling like a gaping loss as much as a relief. He has just enough presence of mind to collapse next to you rather than on top of you, trembling with what must be little aftershocks. A gentle touch to his cheek grounds him, making him blink and focus on you. He breaks into a dopey grin, pulling you close.

“You’re perfect.” He kisses you softly, all traces of roughness vanished. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You beam, somewhat giddy after having your craving sated so thoroughly. He’s no better off, giggling and kissing you again.

The post-orgasm clarity must hit him around then, because his face suddenly falls, levity turning to concern in an instant.

“Oh, shit! Oh, Y/n, are you okay?” He cradles your face in his hands, inspecting you as if it was your face that endured any of it. “I’m so sorry–I got a bit rough there, and we never went over a safe word–does anything hurt?”

“I’m okay, Rosi!” You cover his larger hands with yours, rubbing your thumbs across the back like he does for you when you’re stressed. “It hurt a little, but I would have stopped you if I didn’t like it.”

That helps him relax somewhat, though the worry doesn’t fully leave him. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not much. Might be sore later. Nothing I can’t handle.”

It takes some more reassurance before he’s satisfied, listening to you soothe his concerns while he massages your hips and thighs. You help each other come down, sometimes with touches, sometimes with soft words, sometimes just holding one another close and listening to the sounds of your breathing. You can only ignore the aftermath for so long, however, in this case being the trickle of his cum down your thigh.

“It is far too late for me to be realizing this,” you say, “but we forgot to put a blanket down, and now there’s stains on the couch…”

“Yeah,” Rosinante says, “I’m gonna be honest. I don’t feel bad at all.”

You snicker. “A pirate’s a pirate, huh?”

“Actually, that’s the Marine side of me.”

“No way. Pirates fuck way more than Marines.”

“I have news for you about shore leave.”

You mirror his grin. “You can tell me all about it, but I’d prefer a demonstration.”

“I bet you would.” He pulls you in for a kiss.

The last movie had long since played and ended without your noticing–thankfully, the snail put itself to sleep after the end of the movie (you sure hope so, anyway.) The shower isn’t large enough to fit both of you, so you take turns, each helping wash the other from outside the tub. While Rosinante’s no worse for wear, you benefit more from the hot water, easing your tension while he runs his hands over your sore muscles in an echo of his earlier worship.

After you’ve both cleaned up, you rehydrate with some tea before bed, sitting in his lap at the kitchen table and talking.

“Rosinante?”

“Hm?”

You turn in his lap so you can look at him clearly. “Thanks for today. I really enjoyed my birthday. Probably for the first time in a long time.”

His smile lights up the room, and he hugs you tight, pressing his face into your hair. “I’m so glad!”

You giggle. “This is kind of dumb, but I kind of wish I had a cake after all.”

Rosinante pauses. When he lifts his head, his expression is hard to read, some odd mix of contemplative and sheepish that you can’t discern.

“Rosi?” you ask.

“Um…”

“What is it?”

He glances to the side. “...Well… I actually got a little cake this morning, but I dropped the box it was in when I fell… It’s still in the fridge.”

You sit up straighter. “Wait, seriously?”

“Don’t get excited! It’s totally ruined, at least in appearance. Still edible, but I was so embarrassed I didn’t want to say anything…”

You’re sliding off his lap before he finishes his sentence, going to see for yourself. Sure enough, there’s a little box shoved in the back of the fridge that you didn’t notice. It’s bent in a few places, and the clear plastic window on top of the box is smeared on the inside with cream, blocking your view of the damage.

Rosinante covers his face as you open the box. It’s a disaster; the layers of the cake are in different places, the whipped cream frosting is more on the inside of the box than on the cake itself, and the fruit pieces that must have been a beautiful outer decoration are now scattered. It’s hard not to laugh at the chaos of it, but you manage for his sake, especially considering the circumstances. The thought that he got up early after a tiring mission in order to find a bakery for you is more than a little overwhelming, and you know you’ll cry if you dwell on it too much. You’d take a dropped cake over a flawless one any day if it was coming from him.

“For the record, Rosi,” you say, “I think it’s perfect.”

There’s no way to cut a uniform slice out of the cake, so you fork a piece directly from the mess. It’s delicious, fresh and not too sweet, and even though Rosinante doesn’t care for baked goods, your pleased look convinces him to try it, too.

There’s some symbolism there, something about appearances and damage and sweetness in spite of it all, but for once, you don’t overthink it.

Rosinante has one last surprise for you when you snuggle into bed, getting your attention once you’ve settled in. “I had an idea,” he says.

“What about?”

“It would be a few days late for your birthday, but… I looked into the next island we’re going to stop at. Apparently, it’s famous for its zoo. And, you know, Law told me he’s never been to a zoo before.” He gauges your reaction, hesitant. “...I’d love to take you and the kids.”

Your love of animals didn’t escape his notice either, then. You smile at that, though it falters. “Sounds kind of like a date… What will we tell the others?”

“I won’t say anything. You will mention the zoo in front of the kids. Law will pretend not to want to go, but Baby 5 and Buffalo will jump at the idea, and he’ll end up tagging along. I’ll accompany you all as a ‘bodyguard.’ There’s a chance others in the family will want to come, but it could still be nice.”

It does sound nice. Even if you won’t be able to hold hands as you go, even if you’ll have to keep up pretenses–he’ll still be there, and the two of you will know the true meaning behind the visit. That’s more than enough.

Rosinante’s presence alone has always been enough, but the little ways in which he’ll go out of his way for you serve as comforting reminders of his devotion. It’s not as easy to harbor doubts when he always shows up to chase them away.

“I’d love to go with you, Rosi.” You scoot backwards until his chest is against your back, solid and warm as always. His arm automatically drapes across your body to bring you just a bit closer, and you both drift off like that–sated, secure, and looking forward to the coming days.

#one piece smut #one piece x reader #rosinante x reader #corazon x reader #gift fic #chekov's coconut oil #den den mushi blockbuster #did the snail sleep through it all or did you traumatize him? the answer is in your heart #zen writes

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