#why was it so pleasing to press in the crocodile teeth

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hi!! Hope everything is going well!

Could I Please ask for some bottom buggy (mayhaps with some watersports since I saw you had a interest) or some ftm crocodile being fucked into submission!

Have a nice day.

Ftm Sir Crocodile x male reader

Ficlet

I love Sir Crocodile so much 🗣️ 🗣️

Reader is part of Buggy’s crew, cuz I thought that would be hilarious. Reader doesn’t have a devil fruit, but is still super kickass. Hes kind of the information gatherer, smuggler, etc, for the Buggy crew. Reader is also normal human height.

Mixed terminology for Crocs bits. Also, breeding/pregnancy? kink warning ig. but its just mentioned for the fantasy.

The Cross Guild appeared great for any outsider or lesser in the know members, which was most of them. They all saw your captain as someone great and almost godly, thinking he was so much more than he was, but you had been with him for many years, even before the Buggy pirates had even been created. Shortly after the execution of Rogers, Buggy had stumbled into your path and had accidentally saved your life, and from then on you had been by his side.

Most people thought of you as something akin to an accountant or treasurer, wearing an outfit that looked very much like that of a ringmaster, long red tailcoat and top hat and all. You were always one of the first to run away, giving you a reputation of a coward who couldn’t fight.

The only one who truly knew how much of a threat you could be, would be your captain and his inner circle, which you were also part of. You might not have been the strongest physically compared to someone like Mihawk, but no one could gather information like you could, smuggle like you could, or have someone “disappear” like you could. Your network was so extensive that even the one they called Joker, who you knew was none other than Donquixote Doflamingo, was jealous.

That was why you knew everything about Sir Crocodile and Mihawk before the day was over when the Cross Guild was formed. You cowered off to the side, keeping up your weak act as you flinched at their raised voices or the light reflecting off Crocodiles golden claw.

They believed you a weak fool who’s only worth was your quick mind and ability to calculate numbers quicker than most computers, which resulted in them mostly dismissing you. It was a role you basked in and felt comfortable, using it to keep your true identity under wraps. That was until they pushed your captain too far, as Crocodile especially seemed to take great pleasure in antagonizing and hurting your captain.

You were protective, most pirates were, if they felt any sense of loyalty to their captain. It was because of that, that you dug up a trusted contact, a celestial dragon with greater access to seastone than anyone else you knew. Using measurements from the moment’s clothes had to be made, a pair of cuffs in just the perfect size soon arrived to you with the post.

It was easy to press Crocodiles buttons, to get him worked up by acting stupid and pathetic, just the way you knew made his blood boil. It was even easier to enrage him so far that he chased after you, so blinded by his anger that he didn’t even notice how you kept avoiding his sand, or how you were leading him further and further away from the rest of the guild.

When he finally caught up, Crocodile caged you against the wall, hook digging into the drywall as he almost snarled down at you, cigar crunched between his teeth as his purple eyes blazed. But mild confusion crossed his face as your fearful expression dropped, his body straightening as your eyes met his head on. Before Crocodile could order an explanation, a feeling of weakness crashed through his body, making his knees buckle enough that you had to catch him, supporting his towering weight and bulk.

His vision swam as you started dragging him along, his feet dragging along the floor because of his height compared to your own. Crocodile felt dizzy and mildly nauseous, his eyes finally catching the heavy bands around his wrist, the one he still had left. “ssseastone?” he slurred out, voice lighter than the growl you were used too, cigar long forgotten somewhere along the journey.

In the beginning, you had planned on torturing him, the blades strapped to your person burning at the thought, but as you threw him down almost carelessly on a barely clad bed, a different through passed through your mind.

A slight thrill ran down your spine as his purple eyes burnt into you, his usual anger still present, but mixed with something else, something deeper and hungrier. Soft pants left Crocodiles lips, sounding faintly struggled as the seastone drained the power from his body, leaving him limp and pliant.

You could see the heat rising to Crocodiles cheekbones as you started stripping off your usual getup, tailcoat slid off your shoulders and neatly folded, top hat placed down with care. “What the hell are you doing…” Crocodile rasped from the bed, his pupils blown as an unfamiliar need unfolded inside him, the familiar thrum of pleasure running through body.

Maybe it was his weakened state, but he swore his cunt was pulsing with need, especially as you unbuttoned the stark white shirt you always wore, revealing a tightly muscled and heavily scarred body underneath, leather straps adorned with vials and weapons stretched across your torso.

Crocodile tried to shuffle his legs, maybe to squeeze his thighs together, or to spread them further apart, he wasn’t sure, but all he could do was a minimal twitch and jolt. “I planned on cutting you up, making you beg for mercy. But from the looks of it… you wouldn’t mind some other kind of discipline” you murmur, almost stalking towards him where Crocodile was splayed out on top of the white sheets.

You could see all his muscles tense as you let your hands climb up his legs, up his thighs and stomach, traveling all the way up his arms towards his hook. A choked off noise leaves Crocodile as you remove his hook with ease, like you had done it a thousand times before, placing it off to the side with care.

“Behave yourself” you tell him, squeezing the sides of his jaw to make his lips part. Crocodile tried to growl or snap a threat, to snap his teeth at you or somehow fight back, but his body was mostly unresponsive, his tongue feeling thick and useless in his mouth.

A shiver of anticipation ran through Crocodile as you moved again, settling between his thick spread thighs. Your eyes met as you reach for his belt, your brow lifting as if asking if he wanted you to stop. You may be a pirate, but you had class and manners, at least when it came to stuff like this.

But when all Crocodile responded with was a sour expression and glare, you make easy work of his belt and slacks, tugging them down his hips and legs, throwing them off to the side with little care. Your disregard for his clothes made Crocodile grumble, but the noise was quickly silenced as you pressed your entire hand against his slick underwear, fingers teasing his hard t-cock and soaked folds.

“Tsk tsk, look at you, bet you just need someone to put you in your place, is that it?” you mumble in an almost mocking tone, looking up at him with an almost feral hunger in your eyes. Crocodile chokes on the words that want to form in his throat, some kind of rebuttal perhaps, that he would never want someone as low as you to do anything to him, but as you pinch his cock between your fingers, it morphs into a shaky moan.

Crocodile’s boxers as easily pulled off, thrown to the floor with a damp plap, making his face redden further as you only find amusement in the obvious sign of his arousal. Kicking off your pants and boxers, you crawl up the bed and sit between his thick thighs, pushing them further apart to expose where he only grows slicker, hole clenching around nothing as if begging you to fill it.

“What would they say, seeing the great Sir Crocodile, spread out like this, ready to take the cock of a feeble weak treasurer” you taunt, pressing your hips closer to his, so that you could drag the tip of your cock up and down through his folds. The act has Crocodile arching as good as he can with the cuff on, his eyes squeezing shut as he clenches his jaw, a breathy noise leaving him, folds only growing slicker around you.

Maybe it was your size difference, with you being average human size, compared to Crocodiles almost 9 feet, or maybe it was his gut deep arousal, but his hole didn’t need much prep for you to be able to fit inside.

That didn’t mean you were just gonna give it to him, since this was supposed to be a lesson. A stuttery moan spills almost silently from Crocodiles lips as your fingers rub through his folds, barely pressing against where he wants you the most. He had never imagined himself in a situation like this, splayed out and dripping for you, someone he had always just seen as a nuisance, but here he was.

“Come on Crocodile… ask nicely” your tone is almost cruel as you push only two fingers inside him, barely felt because of his size, but just enough to rub against his wet gummy insides and leave him aching for more. Crocodiles jaw clenches, barring his teeth as his head weakly rolls to the side, as if to hide his face into the sheets.

“Or… I could just leave you here, thighs spread open, cunt glistening with want. Im sure someone will pass by, and who wouldn’t want a chance to fill this” as if to exaggerate your point, you push two more fingers into his slick hole, burying them as deep as possible into Crocodiles wet insides, punching a gasp out of him.

Crocodile seems to debate it, if he wants to put his pride aside for someone like you, but his thoughtprocess is knocked off course as you pinch his cock with your free hand, twisting it cruelly. Had he not been wearing the seastone cuff, his thighs would have clamped shut and a shout would have left him, but now all his body could do was tense up as a wet keen tumbled out of him.

“P…please” Crocodile finally mumbles, voice small and almost shy, but it can barely be heard over the wet slick sounds of your fingers thrusting in and out of him, his wetness running down your palm and wrist in the process.

“Hm?” you hum, the questioning tone in it clear, as if you didn’t hear him at all, giving his cock another twist just because you could. “fuck me… please…” is gasped out, Crocodiles insides clenching around your slick fingers as they rub and prod around inside him.

Your fingers movements slow to a stop, silence filling the room long enough for Crocodile to peek an eye open and look down at you. Your eyes are intense as they bore into his, the predatory flare in them making Crocodiles insides quiver. “Normally id demand better than that, but I’m starting to pity you” you scoff out, withdrawing your fingers from his hold with a slick noise.

Instead of wiping them off on the sheets, you use the large amount of slick that had gathered in your palm to slick up your shaft, releasing a huffed exhale as Crocodiles eyes widen at the sight. “I’ve thought about making you ride me, so you’ll have to make yourself take it, but we can’t do that right now, can we” you eye the cuff around his one wrist, making Crocodile growl and spit out a weak warbled “fuck you”

His insult carries no heat, clearly only for show, his glare quickly wiped off his face as you finally push inside him. Crocodile needs little time to adjust, resulting in you almost immediately setting a bruising rough pace, drawing in and out of him with loud wet slick noises, his hole gripping onto you as he gasps and moans.

Reaching down, you push his shirt up just enough to splay a hand across his lower stomach, a foxlike grin spreading across your lips as you watch his hips weakly roll into your own. “If you weren’t such an asshole, I could fuck you whenever. Imagine that Crocodile, walking around, cunt leaking my cum, as you try to play tough.” You chuckle darkly, tone thick and hungry in the way only a predatory animal could possess.

As your cock rams into that sensitive spot inside him, Crocodile is finally starting to realize you are truly more than you seem, his cunt drooling a wet puddle under him on the sheets as you take him with a new hunger, a glint appearing in your eyes as your hand presses down harder on his stomach.

“I could knock you up you know, right here.” Is hissed out as you bottom out inside Crocodile, the words making him tighten up and shiver in want. “No one would find you so scary then, would they Crocodile. Waddling around, fat with my kid” you purr, letting both your hands splay across his stomach. It was all fantasy, but by God did it make Crocodile wet and wanting. Something about the fantasy of you, some lesser subordinate knocking him, Sir Crocodile, up, had him seeing double.

The seastone didn’t help with his woozy state, all attempts at forming words only becoming half formed and slurred, Crocodiles eyes going wet and glassy as that familiar feeling spread through his body. “in… inside me…” Crocodile slurs as you curse to yourself, clearly close to the finish line as well. Had it not been for the cuffs, he would have thrown his legs around you, squeezing you against his body to keep you inside him, but all he could do now was beg.

Crocodiles pride crumbled as your fingers squeezed his cock one last time, a pure orgasmic expression crossing his face as he gasped and moaned, his entire body twitching weakly as he came, wetting your cock and the sheets even further as the feeling thrummed through his entire body.

With a deep groan you bottom out inside Crocodile for a last time, letting your eyes squeeze shut as you spill inside him, coating his insides in a thick coat of white. Crocodile whimpers weakly at the feeling, trying to squeeze around you as if to milk your length for more.

He slumps against the sheets further than he already is, eyes falling shut in a relaxed exhausted expression. Crocodile barely notices as you pull out, white leaking out from between his folds to join his own mess on the sheets. He barely even notices you cleaning him up, only twitching and gasping softly when you clean up between his legs.

Its only when the seastone cuff leaves his wrist that Crocodile returns to himself somewhat, as the familiar feeling of his devilfruit washes through his body again. Squinting his eyes open, he catches sight of you getting dressed again, tucking on your shirt, then your coat, and lastly placing your hat on top of your head.

Even with his devilfruit returned to him, Crocodile still feels weak and exhausted, but the good type of exhausted one only gets after a good fuck. Part of him wants to ask you to stay, to hold him and pet his hair, to maybe mumble more dirty fantasies about knocking him up, and how you’d make him live as your pretty little housewife. But instead, Crocodile just grunts to get your attention, his attempt to demand to know where you are going.

“I have to get back to the others, since ill be taking over your duties for the rest of the day and tomorrow” you say, voice resolute and not allowing any denial or struggle. And normally Crocodile would have growled and rejected anyone taking over his duties, but for some reason, the idea of you taking care of him made him relax deeper into the bed, muscles lax and thoughts empty and calm for once.

Approaching him, you press a soft kiss to his forehead before telling him “this room is hidden away from everyone else, so take all the time you need. Ill check up on you later” as you pat his cheek. After telling him where the bathroom is, where he could find towels and replacement sheets and blankets, you were on your way, leaving Crocodile on his lonesome.

It took a while, but he finally pushed himself into a seated position before getting to his feet. The feeling of your cum trickling down the insides of his thighs as the familiar heat of arousal burning inside him once more, making Crocodile shuffle towards the bathroom you had pointed him towards. Even though you had just left, he could still get himself off a few more times from just the memory alone.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be disciplined by you, he wondered how you’d react if he caused issues with your smuggling routes. The idea sent a line of heat up his spine as he stepped into the shower, hand quickly traveling between his thighs, fingers burying themselves into his still sensitive hole, fantasies of hungry glare and cruel fingers filling his mind.

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[bowieandqueen11]

Zoro Falling In Love With You Would Include...

Request: I've been binge watching one piece this Friday night so I could appreciate your recent requests and finally send one in! Please can you write for Zoro falling in love? 🥹❤️ I know you would do it amazingly!

Yayayay I've been waiting to write something like this for Zoro, thank you lovely!!! I had WAY too much fun writing this one I am so sorry if I went overboard on the imagery but also sorry not sorry I want to press a thousand kisses over this beautiful man's face

Okay this actually took way too much time to write so comments are much much appreciated!!

Warning: slightly suggestive if you squint, mention of scratching/ injuries and sword fighting

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @starryyshadows.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Oh, mosshead. What a dopey ass himbo you are. Istg this m*therf*cker right here (affectionate) would be so god damn ANNOYING when he's in love. Forget about Zoro nearly grabbing Sanji by his curly brows and swinging him like a ragdoll over the railings any time his continuous nosebleeds drip into his sake. Zoro is just as bad, just a needle swung in the opposite direction; he grumbles around the ship like a mopey, exasperated crocodile, snapping at anyone who comes near him that isn't you.

He wasn't built for love; hellfire roared through his veins, ravishing every cell in his body until his teeth gritted and lips bled in his struggle for self-discipline. He was a predator; rampant, ravaging, resolved in his fortitude. So why? Oh god, why? Why did he feel like he was being torn apart? Ravished by teeth that left rupturing silver punctures in his lungs, shredded by claws that streamed blinding light through the chambers of his heart.

He had felt like that: bent over doubled, clutching his chest in pain when the two of you first met as teenagers. If it hadn't been pitiful enough that you had bested him during your first sparring match at the Shimotsuki Dojo, you had to rub salt into the wound by being kind to him afterwards. He had scoffed when you had thrown your helmet to the ground and held out your hand to him, a scowl cloaking his face and making his teeth grind as you offered him advice on how to perfect your technique. Yet all you had done in response to his slight was to smile: a smile so shining, so unjustly kindly, so prepossessing and beautiful that the swordsman froze in shock, a fleeting flash of pure light haloing his eyes.

He knew. He knew, right there and then. That you were the only thing in all of the seas that could stand in his way. In that moment, he had decided that he would like to live forever in that strand of light: that one that strayed through a gap between the oak leaves, straying past its dark, dense leaves, foraging past the crawling thickets to instead brush against the tip of your cheek.

'What does it matter anyway?', Zoro had glowered, refusing to look back at you again. 'It's not as if you're going to stick around. Once your gone, I'll be the best fighter here again.'

'I'm not going anywhere. Not until I defeat you ten more times, at least', you added, once you noticed him rolling your eyes. You held your hand out, and Zoro glanced down at your outreaching fingers warily. 'No matter where we are or what happens to us, I'll always be a better swordsman than you.' His lips finally curl up in a smile then as he reaches out to shake your hand, and the feeling sends a spark of something running down his fingertips. His whole body feels alight, and he spends the whole rest of the day clenching his fingers into his palm and trying desperately to relish the feeling.

Which is why, for a while, Zoro seems to go extra hard on you: calling you away after lessons for private sparring matches deep in the woods, where only the crunchy bark could hear your swift steps and the fine mist wrapped around the pale trees and sent a cold shake down your hilted hand. The only way to warm yourself up was to butt the edge of your sword against Zoro's flailing torso, shoving him back so you could use the leverage to pin his panting face up against the nearest tree trunk. This time, though - this time, you surprise him.

If he was disappointed in himself for losing again, it soon melted away by the feel of your torso pressing up against his heaving lungs. For a moment, his lips tighten into a thin line as sees your approaching forehead and believes you're straight up just going to headbutt his sorry ass. He jumps even more when your skin lands... softly? against the burning side of his temple. He can't seem able to find his breath, the world seeming to be frozen in glinting threads of light as you linger against the young demon. All that exists is the soft push of your nose against his fluttering shut eyelid. The warm puff of breath as you sigh against the shell of his ear. The light scrape of the bark against his back as he shivers. The sound of his own heart, his blood scorching through his veins and convulsing against the sharp cage of his ribs.

He's so hyperaware of his body tantalisingly close to yours; his stiff elbows lay drawn up by his side, his hands shaking almost imperceptibly as he spreads and flexes his fingers, slowly drawing them to hover around your back. He was still too afraid to touch you.

Too afraid of the fire burning through his fingertips again.

But before he could muster up the courage you had pulled away, and the moment faded into a jaded dream that he nestled safely in the back of his memories.

It's impossible to shake Zoro from you after that moment. He hounds after you like a coveting beast: he stays tied to your hip like a disruptive dog harnessed on a leash. Your favourite activity is sneaking out of your dorms after hours and running down to meet by the riverbed: feet sprinting across the cream petals and sharp pine needles to collapse next to one another among the buzz of the fireflies nestling above the woven grass. For a while, as the two of you turn your tired heads to the skies, there's nothing but a silent affinity settling over the clearing. Nothing but the feel of the silk sleeve of Zoro's pyjamas brushing over the side of your cheek as unclasps his hands from behind his head and warily rests them in the short space between your hips. Nothing but the sound of your extolled voice as you point up at the bursts of sparks and swirls of silver against the darkness, enrapturing Zoro as you chart out the dips of your favourite constellations.

The reflection of the skies you had spent your younger years on the seas watching with wonder fill your eyes with a wonderous light, the delight drawing your attention away and allowing Zoro the opportunity to docilely turn his head to face you instead. His cheek freezes against the dew, but he's too revered in memorising the scrunch of your nose as you swat your hand at him for not paying attention: too busy watching the placid look that softens your smile as you look, too busy wishing he wasn't so cowardly. Wishing he didn't feel so feeble. Wishing, as his hand clawed at his thigh and dug in deep enough to leave bruises, that he could just reach out and touch you.

He jumps when you click your fingers in front of his crossing eyes. 'Zoro, are you even listening?'

He shrugged. 'Kinda. I don't know much about this stuff. If I can't hit it, I don't care.'

'You should! One day, when I become the greatest sword fighter in the world, I'm going to sail into those stars and discover all the secrets this world has to offer.' You flopped your free hand over your stomach with a content sigh, the spiralling glow of the heavens raining down and coating your face with sparks of silver.

He snorted. 'That sounds stupid. You can't sail into the sky.'

'You're just jealous because you're not invited.'

'Good. Who said I wanted to come.'

Zoro may be an idiot, but he's also a man who learns from his mistakes.

He doesn't know what overtakes him. Adrenaline? Rage? An overwhelming surge of fondness? The thought pounding in his head that if he doesn't do this now, he'll spend forever locked away in this cage? His fingers itch across the grass. His whole body squirms, the heat rolling through his body making the perspiration bead on his forehead, but still he keeps going. It's only when he feels your hand jolt back as his pinkie bumps against the side of your wrist that he begins to feel stupid.

Growing self-restraint be damned, as soon as you recover from the shock and shyly place your hand back down by your side, he pounces. Initially, the squeeze of his fingers as they wrap around your cool palm almost breaks bone, but all you do is rub your thumb over the edge of his knuckles.

You know its his way of telling you he loves you, even if he is too young and stubborn and proud to say it.

You both knew that one day you would leave him for the stars. When the time comes, and you leave Shimotsuki Village, to stop the sinews of his heart from completely scorching away with every knot of your ship, the demon suffocates any thought of you.

When he meets you again that fateful day: tied up to a Marine post in a dusty courtyard, tired, frustrated, solemn, for the first time in his life he begins to feel his judgement sway. When your face popped around the yard gates on your way out from meeting Axehand Morgan, your feet skid so comically across the ground the cloud of smoke it raised was so huge it even made Zoro sneeze. With a hand on your hip, and eyes widened in disbelief, you stepped out into the sunlight to survey the man bowed before you.

'I always knew I'd see you tied up one day', you smirked, shoving the handful of berries you had earnt from trading in your last bounty into the satchel by your hip before wandering over to untie him. 'Just thought it would be me doing the tying.'

'Y/n?', he asks incredulously, trying his best to dart his eyes nonchalantly up and down your body despite how fervently his voice was trying to waver. He sneered, tipping his head in the other direction and staring at the ground as you tug on the rather tight knots around his wrist. 'What the hell are you doing here.'

When you finally manage to tug him loose off the boards, his knees sag so quickly beneath him that the swordsman nearly goes collapsing headfirst onto the ground. With reflexes so quick they could only be rivalled by your own sparring buddy himself, a firm hand slaps against his sternum. A quick tug pulls him back, Zoro's knees dirtying with beige as he kneels back against you.

'Same as you, oh great swordsman', you laugh against his ear. 'I always told you you'd have competition. And from the looks of it, I'm winning.'

For a second you're concerned you've overstepped: the familiarity, the fondness you thought everlasting between you both a figment of your imagination when Zoro tilts his head back slightly to glare at you from the corners of his eyes. Placing a hand on his knee he braces himself, and steps up. For a moment, you're even more terrified he's about to kick you to the ground - or even worse, turn his back and walk off, ignoring you completely. But then he surprises you. The corners of his lips twitch in what - no way- could only be the beginnings of a smile?! before you're lifted off the ground and crushed in a hug so unyielding between his solid chest and taut arms that you can't help but bury your head into his shoulder blade and laugh.

It wasn't very hard to convince Luffy to let you join his crew - I mean, when you took down three Marines with just one punch, and he saw the powerhouse you and Zoro were as you fought back to back with Axehand Morgan, you were coming, and that was that. No buts. No excuses. Don't argue with your Captain.

I mean, bless his heart, Zoro is still a dumbass though, as perceptive as he is. And he's still sore. It takes a little bit of work to climb through the trellises of his grave heart. But little by little, he begins to open up to you again. He starts to grumble less when you climb up to join him during his late nights on watch up in the Crow's Nest. At first, as he burrows his back into the planks and crosses his arms in front of his chest, the steady breathing of his stoic body makes your job seem even harder. Undeterred, you rocked back on your heels and clucked your tongue in nervousness. But you should have known: even with his eyes closed, concentration edged into the furrows of his face, he's far too perspicacious for his own good. Even though he's doing his best to look brooding and bored, his foot shoots out and kicks his sword out of the way - launching it back across your heels and barring you from tumbling back down and falling down the hatch.

Every time you drag yourself up in the middle of the night to join him, you can tell his full concentration is centred on you, even if his eyes never even move behind their lids. He's pointedly listening out for your move, your every breath, your every heartbeat - which comes in very handy for darting out and catching in his massive palm the warm cups of cider you had precariously tried to carry up. Eventually, after a full week of you sitting up there Zoro finally relents his pride; even with Luffy's vest and Usopp's jacket wrapped around you, you clutch at the lapels of Sanji's suit jacket that your friends had very kindly lent you to try and stop shivering from the cold. Zoro doesn't even speak, just raises his elbow a little bit, and you don't need a second invitation to come clambering into the warmth of his side.

God, if he hadn't spent every moment of every day since he was thirteen years old dreaming of holding you in his arms. You pretend, for his sake, that you can't feel his heart thrumming wildly against your ear.

You catch the former bounty hunter staring at you from across the Lounge’s breakfast table most mornings. The intensity of his unwavering eye would be strong enough to make you blush, if you hadn't turned your attention back to stabbing at Luffy's grabby hands with the prongs of your fork. It's only when Sanji clasps his hands to his cheek, and in a faux sugary sweet sing-song voice professes 'how romantic mosshead can be! What person wouldn't love being stared at like roadkill!', that all hell breaks loose. Luffy's too busy munching on your pancake to truly register you and Nami nearly flying leapfrog over Zoro's back to try and stop him from throwing the poor cook through the window.

Although you succeed, Sanji does have to spend the rest of the morning sulkily smoking out of the corner of his mouth while wringing orange juice out of his hair.

Zoro is extremely, extremely protective over you. Even though you know how much he hates talking, he draws all the attention to himself away from Cabaji, even while tied up to Buggy' circus wheel. When the knives start whizzing past his head, he doesn't even flinch: safe in the knowledge that no matter what happens, you're safe from these buffoons. When Nami finally manages to pick her cage's lock and help free the two of you, you offer Zoro your hand as you cautiously steady him on the ground again. He jolts, and for a moment you're worried one of the knives actually did hit him; while you flip his palm trying to find any sign of a scratch, Zoro's eyes focus on you in wild shock. He feels fifteen again as he gently rubs your searching fingers between his coarse pointer finger and thumb, sobbing into his bed and holding the hilt of his sword, pretending it was your hand. Your warmth. And here you were, come back to him, offering it freely. He felt like falling to his knees, a pliant supplicant to your unwarranted mercy.

One time he nearly made you bust out laughing: since Zoro spends most of his day napping in such random intervals, during a rogue storm aboard the Going Merry one cloudy evening the swordsman was still awake. It was during your struggle to stop yourself pitching right off your bed and slamming into the wall, and planting yourself firmly from sliding to the left and body slamming a very irritated looking Nami, whose head was covered by one of her bunched up pillows, that you spotted a shadow flitting across the porthole on your door. Zoro's tall, awkward outline hesitantly moved as if he were about to rap at the door, before the sound of him yelling at himself under his breath made you snort aloud.

His head rises at the sound, and before he can take a step backward to try and abort his masterplan of sneaking into your room under the guise of checking if you were alright with the storm battering the rocking ship, you had slammed open the door and nearly flung Zoro into your hammock like a ragdoll. For a moment, Zoro lies there like a statue, unsure of where to put his hands or if it's alright that the sway of the ship means that he can't unsquish his cheek from against the side of your eyebrow. When his hand hesitantly begins to fall over your back and fold you tightly against his pecs with a squeeze, you know that's his trepid way of trying to let you know he still loved you.

Not to mention when you wake up and he's lying with his nose nearly indented into yours, his sleepy eyes looking so peaceful for once... just admiring you with the warm glow of the sun dousing him in holiness.

One time he got really lost trying to find you and Luffy after the two of you had the very sensible idea of setting off to the nearest island on a search for hidden treasure. After he had spent hours wading through muddy creeks and tearing some tangled thorns away from his face, out you come wandering from behind a tree. Thinking you were some kind of wild animal, Zoro has you pinned against the bark of the nearest tree before you even have time to blink.

Not one to be defeated, you kick out at his legs with a delighted laugh, knocking the man nearly ass over head onto his back. You grin, victorious, as you crawl between his legs like a ravenous tiger, knocking the hilt of his blade far out of reach of his clenching fingers. As your knee presses against the inner seam of his muscled thigh, you can tell by the forced gulp of his bobbing throat how hard he's struggling. When you dig your fingernails deeply enough into his wrists to elicit a throaty hum of approval, when his abdomen keeps bucking ever so slightly off the reeds to try and shake you off, you just know the man's imagined this scenario a lot of times, in a lot of different ways over the years.

(I mean this man could throw you off easily let's be real.)

When the Straw Hat Crew meet Kaya, this man - istg - he nearly goes weak at the knees when you come down the stairs in your brand new borrowed outfit. His breathless inhale earned him a distasteful glare from Klahadore, but he didn't even care that he was showing such careless, unmeasured adoration. It took Luffy nearly slapping him across the face with the shrimp he was waving in front of his nose to draw him back to some sense of reality.

'I know!', the Captain had smiled. 'The food here is so good, I was daydreaming about it too!'

Having the good fortune to uh *definitely by chance and not because you snuck into the dining hall earlier to switch the place cards* - to sit next to Zoro offers him the opportunity to make his feelings more plain, in a subtle way. Perfect timing! As soon as Luffy clambers up onto the table and draws the wrath of the strangely severe butler, Zoro's hand latches across yours under the tablecloth and squeezes. He blinks languidly, his face as unreadable as ever as he takes a sip out of his champagne flute and clears his throat, but you notice. You know every part of him: every idiosyncrasy, every bob of his Adam's Apple, the tensed pull of his jaw muscle as he clenches his teeth, the warm flush rising up his cheeks, you know them all. As if they were so innate, so interwoven with your own being, that you weren't sure of a time when your hearts hadn't been devoured by each other's. Each the predator. Each the prey.

He leaves his hand on your knee for the rest of the dinner, and you refuse to remove his latched fingers and let him go.

You kiss him for the first time that night: just a sweet little tease of lingering lips against the pure radiance of his cheek.

As he walks you down the 'confusing' corridors that are 'definitely a trap' by Zoro's own declaration, you unlink yourself from his arm to straighten the collar of his silk shirt. 'You look nice', you say sincerely, eyebrows furrowing as you trace the outline of his bare collar between the open buttons. 'Even though swords are more your style, you look good in a suit. You look good in everything.'

'Uh... thanks', he balks, his head emptying as his entire being instead focuses on the feeling of your fingertip scratching of his chest. 'You- your eyes look nice', he bluntly replies. 'Like two rice balls.'

Bless him, he meant well.

And then you kiss him with a raise of your tippy toes and final clutch of your hands against his shoulders, before retreating back into your room and leaving him extinguished within the shadows. He spends the next few hours almost deliriously wandering the corridors, trying to temper the tight ball growling in his belly. To try and find a sense of clarity, some kind of retinence. Looking past the billowing blue curtains and out through the slats of the casement windows lining the ornate, ostentatious glass cases, a warning pangs in Zoro's heart. How could he? How could he find restraint, when you had spent all these years driving his thoughts wild? How could he keep you safe, when he could focus on nothing but the wetness still lingering against his cheek? How could he fulfil his dreams, when all he wants right there. Just past the clear moonlight drifting silver into his eyelids, there your stars lay.

He wasn't about to let you sail away from him this time, to alight only in his memories: to pulse through the hollow beats of his hear and cool his charred veins like a cruel reminder of a salvation he had never deserved.

He wasn’t going to lose you to his callow cowardice. Not ever again.

When he comes knocking on your door, you don't expect the demon bounty hunter to blurt out a fevered 'I love you!', before turning and stamping off. But I suppose, as you ran after to him to drag him back into your room by the scuff of his neck and slam the wide expanse of his back against the door to shut it, he wasn't expecting to spend the night filling poor Kaya's house with unbridled moans.

#one piece #one piece imagine #zoro #zoro imagine #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro imagine #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro headcanons #roronoa zoro headcanons #sanji #monkey d luffy #nami #opla #opla imagine

[crisiscutie]

Any thoughts or headcanons about Sephiroth and mating press? Please? 👉👈

🥵🥵🥵 You guys know that gif in 7R where he pushes Cloud to the ground and bares his teeth?

Content Warning: NSFW: Dubcon, Breeding Kink, Mommy Kink.

That's exactly what he'll do before mating press his darling. I think this position would be a favorite amongst all Sephiroths (because they're all Sephy ofc) but some more partial to it than others. Such as Female Sephiroth, 7R Sephiroth and C.C. Sephiroth. I think these three tap into their feral natures more often than their counterparts. I mean, just look at the twin boys~.

His twin brother, 7R Sephiroth:

I have a huge primal kink and for Sephiroth, the idea of him going feral with his darling is amazingly hot. What better sex position for that than mating press? I also have a headcanon for a secondary animal motif for 7R Sephiroth, which is the crocodile. They're known for their enormous size and for being opportunistic apex predators. They use being cunning tricks to catch their prey at the right moment..

When I first saw these eyes in the game:

They bore into me with such intensity that I felt like a helpless prey about to be devoured. To me, his eyes weren't like a cat at all - they were the eyes of a ruthless predator, like a crocodile. As a child, my parents' passion for nature and their fixation on apex predators, particularly alligators and crocodiles, meant that I learned a lot about these intimidating and exciting creatures. This is probably why I always enjoyed visiting Florida and being near them. It's so exciting but scary...

Anyways, I also wrote a fic with 7R Sephy and his darling in this position for those interested here. While I'm experimenting with pairing different Sephys with different Darlings, why not some HCs of C.C. mating press the Domestic Darling? 😏 Check out this Sephthought for some context to this pairing.

Imagine C.C. feeling naughty one day while the Domestic Darling is folding laundry, so he sneaks up behind her to embrace her.

Turning around, she planted an innocent kiss on her sweet boy's lips, but it soon turned into a more intense kiss as his tongue invaded her mouth and danced with hers.

She broke the kiss, needing a moment to catch her breath. She commented on how forward her sweet boy was being today, giving him a curious and bashful glance.

He pulled her close again, his voice low yet gleeful as he spoke of his ambition to establish his dynasty over Gaia... And there is no better place to begin that than his precious mother's womb.

Her cheeks grew warm as she tried to process his words.

As she opened her mouth to speak, she didn't register the predatory and lustful glint in his eyes. He then pinned her down aggressively, ready to breed.

In a matter of seconds, he ripped her skirt apart and pulled her lacey panties aside.

He thrusted his thick cock into her warm cunt, showing no mercy as he relentlessly pounded away.

With her legs draped helplessly over his back, the poor darling whimpered in both pain and pleasure as he drove himself balls deep and hit her cervix.

Her sweet pleas for him to be gentle and listen to her were white noise to him.

Her bouncing tits were neglected as well. His mind was consumed with the goal of impregnating her, blinding him to everything else.

Sephiroth knows that his beautiful mother will bore his spawn. They shall help him rule over this planet and the cosmos. No more will these human parasites and other worthless lifeforms continue to exist.

And he will continue to breed her, ensuring that she is never without his seed.

The darling endured hours of unrelenting breeding by C.C, his ragged breathing and grunts filling the air until he released his corrupted seed deep inside her, filling her womb to the brim.

After a brief interlude, he returned to his normal self, still sheathed inside her. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear.

Twisted love and excitement shone in his eyes as he noticed the laundry scattered around them.

"I ruined some of the laundry, Mother..." he said apologetically.

The darling couldn't respond, as she was just fucked silly and filled to the brim with his seed. Her hand trembled as she reached up to his head, giving him a soft, reassuring pat.

After the head pat, his slit eyes briefly dilated. He leaned in to give her a sweet kiss on the lips, holding her in an even tighter embrace.

"I'll never let you go, Mother~" 💜

I'm happy to share some other thoughts on fitting sex positions for Sephy too if you guys want~ 😏😏😏

#sephiroth #ff7 sephiroth #Yandere Sephiroth #Yandere Sephiroth x Reader #Yandere Final Fantasy #Yandere x Reader #Yandere x Darling #c.c rambles #ff7 #ff7 remake #final fantasy vii #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #ff7r #yandere fanfiction #final fantasy x reader #tw: mommy kink

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

Why so blue?

Prologue, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven

tag list: @luciddasher @seashelldom @goblinerrant @belos-simp69 @d4rno

Chapter Eight

Beep boop action scenes are hard. Trying to maintain a gender neutral reader, please let me know if there's anything I can do to help with that. I think other than the earlier mention of the Na'vi word for mother I've done well.

Quaritch didn't know the last time he'd felt so content. You sat relaxed by his side, Spider to his left chatting away and his squad under his control. His only want was for Jake Sully's head, then everything would be perfect.

The fires heat had made you remove your shawl, Quaritch admired the sparkling dots that littered your shoulders. Lyle kept his eyes to Mansk and Zdog, obeying Quaritch's order and then some.

Spider began humming a tune, tapping his feet to an upbeat melody. Your voice joined in, adding lyrics to this song. Miles didn't know it, must have been in Na'vi though he couldn't pick out many lyrics. To his surprise however Zdog began drumming along, using the butt of her knife against an empty tin. You sang beautifully, Quaritch was enchanted, unable to tear his gaze away from your moving lips.

You stood passing him to stand in front of Spider, who feigned some resistance but allowed himself to be pulled up, grinning the whole time. You lead him forward, placing a raised fore arm to his, you began stepping in circles. The dance wasn't too hard to follow, and by the end of the song Miles felt he knew the steps. Zdog stood, passing off her 'drum' to Lyle to keep going.

You stood together, her teaching you a snaking hip movement. You followed easily, Zdog leaving to call Mansk to join her and hauling him off the ground when he didn't. You laughed lightly, singing another tune as you swayed and twisted silhouetted in the fire light.

Spider flopped down next to him again, Slightly out of breath. "You should get up there." He smiled, raising his eyebrows. Quaritch looked stunned but Spider just laughed at him. "I'll push!"

Miles stood and walked to you. He felt like a teenager, about to ask his crush out. Palms sweating and throat tightening. He thought with years worth of experience in memory he wouldn't feel so nervous. You continued swaying, turning to him, smiling lightly. At least you seemed to be equally blushing, your ears and tail twitching as your voice wavered slightly. He followed his memorized steps, dancing with you the way you'd done with Spider. You relaxed into it, changing the moves slightly to be closer to him. Shifting round to dance with your back pressed to his chest. He felt too hot but he couldn't leave your side, he didn't want this moment to end but it did.

Mansk began yelling, swinging his gun up to point out at the water. Miles pulled you behind him, drawing his own weapon and staring out into the inky water for the threat. The river flowing gently, he saw nothing churn the water, save the few larger rocks that broke the surface.

You gripped his bicep before pointing out. "There!" You whispered to him. He saw it now, the size of a bus, scaled and swimming fast towards them, spines cutting a smooth path. Spider was near, a few meters to his side, close to Lyle and the banshees. Zdog and Mansk where on his other side, guns readied.

The creature broke the surface, its momentum allowing it to leap into the air before crashing down in the middle of your semi circle. It was massive. Huge body dousing the flames, throwing the surroundings into their glowing state. Miles would have called it a crocodile. It was several times the size but with a very similar jaw and teeth. again just several times bigger. It's six legs where short and muscular and its tail was long, thin and ended in a spiked ball, like a medieval mace. It's body was an inky black, making it hard to see unless in front of the glowing shrubbery. Only its spines held a deep blood red colour.

He opened fire, aiming around its nose and eyes, hoping these parts wouldn't be as strongly protected. The other recoms followed suit, muzzles flashing light up the creature as it roared and reared back. It lunged suddenly towards Zdog and Mansk, who rolled under its bite. The sound its jaw made when it's teeth clashed together rivaled the gunshots.

Its long tail whipped towards him. He gripped the back of your neck, bringing you down to the ground with him. The banshees screeched, taking flight to avoid the beast, roaring up at them. It stood on it's hind legs to try reaching for them, snapping at the lowest flying ones. Lyle shot at it's exposed underbelly, finally seeming to draw blood. The creature screeched, flailing back, its tail thrashing around wildly. It struck Spider and sent him hurling back into the mud, before it slipped back into the water.

You scrambled up, running towards Spider's prone form. Quaritch kept his gun trained on the water a few more moments. The creature seemed to have fled, and the banshees had settled landing back down again. He followed over to Spider.

You had him cradled on your lap, wiping muck away from his torso. Quaritch's breath caught in his throat. Two large gashes ran across his chest, they were shallow, hardly bleeding but Spider wasn't conscious. You'd began raking through you're bag desperately, mumbling quickly to yourself.

"What is it? What's wrong with him." Miles felt his concern growing more every moment Spider's eyes remained closed. The hit was hard sure but not enough to leave him like this, not without hitting his head?

"Poison, it's barbs are poisonous!" You were frantic, openly crying as you kept searching. "I don't have it, I don't have anything to help." Miles felt cold, Zdog leaned forward.

"We gotta get him back to base, they've got everything, they fix him." Zdog was right, they kept anti-venoms for every creature on this planet. Accept even flying they were a day's ride from any base.

"How long does he have? Y'N! how long?" He had to kneel down to you, gripping your shoulder to get you to pay him attention.

"Hours, maybe less, I've never seen a human affected by this before." You were just holding him now, bag abandoned. His breath was quickening and a thin layer of sweat coated him.

"The tree..." You stopped, turning to grip Mile's arms. "We have to get him to the tree. Please." You looked pleadingly, lip quivering. Miles paused a moment, you meant the spirit tree, a sacred place, you wouldn't allow the others to come, hell he wasn't sure how close he'd be permitted. It could be a trick, to get him alone and attempt an escape but Miles didn't care. You wouldn't risk Spider's life, he could trust that.

"Come on." He took Spider from you, carrying him in his arms towards Cupcake. He felt so small in his arms, like he'd felt when he was still just a baby. He was so limp though, cold and pale. Nothing like his memory of his pink new born body. You followed along with him, mounting behind him. Wrapping arms around his waist.

"Follow that stream, the red ferns..." You were still panicking, your mind racing and making it hard to keep from speaking your mother tongue.

"I'll radio in, follow if I've not radioed by 0900." Miles ordered Zdog, she'd followed after you, taking her hand left from your shoulder to salute and Miles thought his commands to Cupcake.

He felt Cupcake's concern as well as his own as he flew. His own unsteady breathes echoing through his ikrans chest. The route he followed brought you both closer to the chemical spills, the plants loosing colour and density as you went. From up high it was easiest seen in the lack of light given off, as the living mosses that lit up the forest floors died in the sour waters.

He felt your body rack with sobs against his back. He couldn't think, he had to focus on getting you there, something there must be able to save him. He couldn't loose him now, he'd only just won him back

He could have missed the dead tree. No light shone from its almost empty branches. He remembered photos of the place from his human life. It'd once been very similar to the tree of souls the forest clans had. Shorter but wider, like a willow, it had glowed the same purplish pink. Though that colour had faded and gotten more reddish as the water poisoned, before going dark. He'd never thought of it again until now, it was some savages stupid tree several clicks from any concern of his. Now here he was hoping against all odds that it would help.

You dismounted before Cupcake had even touched down. Reaching up to take Spider from him. He moved him gently into your arms, following after as you walked quickly to under the tree. You laid him gently at the root, before burying your hand in the deep roots. Miles hovered back, he wanted to come closer to hold Spider but it felt wrong to him. To even be this close, he felt at any moment you'd hiss him away, even dead this was an intensely important place to you.

You pulled out a carved wooden box, humming as you searched its contents.

"Miles please..." You held your hand out to him. eyes still down and searching with your other hand. He was over in a few strides, kneeling by Spider's side and putting his hand in yours. Your head flicked up and to your joined hands. You moved his hand to Spider's chest.

"How is he?" You opened a jar sniffing it before beginning whatever preparations you needed. Miles felt his neck for his pulse.

"His hearts hammerin', he's so cold, shakin'." He heard his voice quivering. He was trying so hard to keep it together, he didn't want you to see him weak. You moved to your human boy now, spreading something bitter smelling across his chest. You brought a strange spouted bowl to his mouth, pouring its contents in, then tipping Spider's head back to swallow it. You felt his forehead with your own now, hands still shaking against his cheeks.

You began whispering prayers, voice shaking. Tears still fell gently, dropping down into the mud beneath you. Miles waited by Spider's side, his breath still rapid. He felt anger rising in him, was this it? Was this all that could be done? Some back water witch doctoring!? He was going to start yelling when a flash caught his eye.

The roots around Spider strobed, light pulsing towards his form. He groaned, you grabbed his hand.

"Ma Spider?" You called to him. Miles watched as the roots close to his neck moved, tiny white tendrils shifted out binding around one another into a tight rope. It snaked to connect to where Spider's skull would meet his spine. Miles reached out.

"The hell are these things" He wanted to brush them off. This strange plant intended to grow into his son.

"No no!" You held his hand, stopping it. "she's helping, let her help." You looked him in the eye, you seemed so sure that he relented, pulling his hand back. You moved your braid in front of you, following down it's length to reveal the swirling tendrils of your queue. You placed it down on the root connected to Spider.

Miles watched your pupils dilate before your eyes fluttered shut. You smiled, tears still falling and reached out to touch Spider's face. He groaned again though he sounded less pained this time. You opened your eyes and looked over to him. Miles felt confused, this whole situation was beyond him but whatever was happening was helping Spider so he could live with it. You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb moving across under his eye. He hadn't noticed when he'd started to cry, he just scoffed turning his head away from you. Your hand remained however, gentle stroking before moving behind to hold the base of his queue.

Miles breath hitched, the strange alien feeling of your hand running down the length of it as you brought it forward. It was so sensitive even through the braid. Your thumb pushed lightly at the base to expose his own tendrils before you moved it towards the root.

Quaritch snapped out of the moment. Pulling his queue from you, throwing it behind his back again.

"Don't you. ." You began.

"No." He interrupted. He did not want to do whatever this was. He'd let his thing save his son if he had too but he was not going to connect his brain to this half dead zombie tree god.

Your shoulders slumped slightly, you took your own queue from the root before gently stroking hair from Spider's face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren't sure you would ever stop crying at this rate. Between fear and worry for Spider then elation at the anti-venom still being there you'd been exhausted from the emotional highs and lows. To top it all off the spirits of your people had awaken to assist you, accepting Spider as their own and connecting him to Eywa. You connected yourself, feeling her, feeling the echos of the past then Spider himself. It was fuzzy clearlystill affected by the poisoned waters. He was there though, with your parents, with your teacher, with all life that ever there was. Your son, finally connected the way he'd dreamed he could.

You wanted to share this with Miles. It felt right to have him here, he had every claim to Spider as you did. He was different now too, you could feel it. He sat here with you under in the heart of your home, in the most sacred place. He'd been hesitate to join you, treading respectively over the roots, but he'd pulled away. Rejecting communion with Eywa. You supposed it was likely just too far a step, too soon in his journey for that moment. Still he stayed by Spider's side as his breathing slowed to a restful pace. You poured water from his canteen into a bowl and began to wipe the sweat from Spider. His stripes were all but gone now and you made note to reapply them when he woke. From what you'd felt when connected it wouldn't be too long, by morning most likely and you'd said so to Miles.

He stood outside the boundaries of the tree now, where he'd gone to 'radio in'. He'd touched the thing around his neck and spoke to Mansk. Jake had one, so had Norm, they'd used them to speak from great distances. You'd liked the idea of having one for Spider and yourself but never asked. He stayed there now, looking around with his hand on the top of his gun, keeping a watch. Spider was clean and just resting now, so you shifted to kneel by the roots. There had been many treasures kept here, important medicines, personal artifacts of your teacher and your fingers grazed what you'd searched for.

You stepped out to join Miles, he didn't turn to you.

"He rests now, we're safe here. No thing can harm another here." Miles sighed looking back to say something. It didn't make it out however as he just stared at you. Suddenly bashful, you rocked on your heals making the skirt sway. You'd found your ceremonial garb, the one made for when you'd grown up. You'd never had the opportunity to wear it before now, though you remembered feeling the fabric in your tiny hands. The top was ridged lacing gold, it swirled patterns across your chest like creeper plants. Small jewel beads where woven into the ends of each stem, more concentraited at the high choker like neck. The skirts were long, to the ankle and white, with high slits right up to the top of your thigh. The belt was patterned with shining turquoise stones. You'd even found the earrings, beaded headdress and nose ring to match. It felt too much now, you tugged at the skirt and fiddled with the earrings. This was for ceremony, yours or any you would be called upon to perform.

"I was to wear this when I became Tsahìk..." You felt silly now, maybe you should just take it off. Miles reached out to you though, fingers meeting your arm, before traveling up. By your shoulder he'd placed his whole hand on you and the other had joined it on your other side. You looked into his eyes, they were half lidded, his face relaxed.

"You look..." He trailed off, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His eyes fell to your lips and he stopped, waiting. With a sudden rush of courage you closed the gap. letting your lips meet.

It'd been a long time since you'd kissed another and it'd been barely more than a peck. This was different, though you'd began slowly Miles had quickly deepened this kiss. His fingers tangled into your hair, tilting your head up and tugging you closer. You trailed your hands up his sides, letting them rest on his shoulders. He stopped suddenly, your mouth chasing after his slightly but he wasn't gone long. He lifted you up, hands behind your knees. You squealed. wrapping your legs around his waist for balance. He laughed at your response before diving back to you. His tongue grazed your lip, you parted them letting him in. It was intoxicating the way he kissed, like nothing you'd ever experienced before. You let your hands roam, across his broad chest, up his neck, into his hair. It felt nicer than you'd imagines, the close cropped hair like velvet. You felt Miles groan into your mouth, you gave it an experimental tug. His head rolled back as he groaned, smirking he looked back to you.

"You don't know what your doing to me sweetheart." You smiled leaning in to kiss him again. He moved to sit, keeping you straddled across his lap. His hands were free to move now and he wasted no time, exploring your body. Griping and pinching as he went, eliciting moans from you when he touched someplace sensitive.

The movement was quick, he tugged your kuru round in front of you and made to connect it with his own. You jumped up suddenly, taking quick paces back to create space.

"No! no, you can't do that!" Your voice between a whisper and a shout. You didn't want to disturb Spider but you needed him to understand the importance of what he almost did.

"I just thought..." He trailed off, still sat there with his own kuru in his hands. You held yours to your chest.

"You don't, You didn't think! This is sacred, sacred! Do you understand, you can't just! It's so important and you only do it once and..." You struggled to convey yourself properly in English, stumbling over your words unable to find just the right ones to explain it.

"Right. Don't touch." Miles dropped his kuru now crossing his arms. You didn't think he understood you, not properly. You stepped back over to him.

"Can touch here..." You took his hand again in your own, guiding it to your face, "Here..." You brought his palm down your neck to your chest again. His breath quickened again, eyes growing dark with something you couldn't place . "here" You moved his hand back to your hip again. He ran his fingers against the base of your tail making you shudder.

"Here?" He questioned back, running his fingers down to its base again. You just nodded swiftly, feeling like your voice would betray you somehow. He pulled you in closer again, resting his head against your stomach, breathing in your scent.

"Well alright then." He smiled against you. You dropped your hand to his scalp again, massaging it.

You spent most the night like this, gently caressing one another, staying close. Miles seemed to be trying to take it slower with you now. Laying down under the tree again and holding you tucked in beside him. You relaxed into him, feeling safer here than you had in weeks. You closed your eyes and slept.

#quaritch x you #miles quaritch x oc #quaritch x reader #miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #avatar imagine #avatar #my posts #spider socorro #zdog #mansk #my fics #why so blue

[nopoodles]

Prompt: Almost

OCs: Nat + Tao From: Not That Kind Of Dandy Spoilers: Yes – more so for book one but I’ll be honest, it’s just a flat yes. But if you’re like me and you don’t give a shit about spoilers, please enjoy.

Title: Not The Dying Kind

It was supposed to be a simple refuelling stop. A quick family visit for Nafia. Exploration of a place Nat had never been before. A brief moment of peace where Nat could be a person again, instead of being a captain with their crew at their door every minute of the day asking Nat to fix problems or accept requests.

It was not supposed to result in Nat stumbling onto the ship, clothing wrecked and becoming further ruined by the blood gushing from their wounded shoulder. “Shenai.” They tried to shout. It came out weak and whispery.

“Shenai.” They tried again, knees buckling. They slammed into the deck of Mercy’s Myth. That would hurt later, surely. Just like when that naval brat had dragged them out of their bunk. That particular knee pain had lasted months.

“Shenai! Finally the word came out in the bellow Nat had first intended. The world fuzzed around. The last  thing Nat saw was a pair of boots moving toward them.

When had they fallen to lie on the deck? That wasn’t very captainly.

*

The softness of the bed did almost nothing to ease the pain that had yanked Nat unceremoniously back into the world. An unbidden groan escaped them as they forced dry eyes open.

Pretty patterns and delicate scenes depicted in elegant lines of green and gold ink stared down at them. “Am I dead?”

“Not for lack of trying,” a rich voice responded, tone flat.

Not dead. Somehow in Tao’s private, personal bedroom. They had actually made it to Shenai. Nat turned to look at Tao, sat in a chair that didn’t normally live in here. Nothing like his Pirate Lord throne, this chair was simple but well padded, more akin to the kind of thing that would sit in his receiving den.

“I didn’t try to get bitten by a crocodile—”

“Nat,” Tao interrupted. No sign of his usual nickname. No sign of the soft amused nature Nat had grown accustomed to. No, this was all The Pirate Lord. Stern and used to being listened to and obeyed. Not to be argued with.

“No,” Nat argued. “I wasn’t in a high risk area. I wasn’t doing anything risky at all. I was just trying to get some peace, some alone time away from my crew and—”

“Nat.”

Nat huffed and immediately regretted the way it tugged at the bite. They’d almost got caught up in the comfortable barb-trading with Tao, almost forgotten the pain—at least enough to mostly ignore. “You don’t believe me.”

“You almost died!” Tao snapped, surging to his feet and looming over Nat’s prone form. “Your crew brings you up here, your surgeon in abject panic, sending runners all over my port to find me. And they bring you here coated in your own blood and with the teeth they pulled out of you in a jar ‘in case I needed them’. And you were pale as death and barely breathing.” He stopped as suddenly as he had begun, chest heaving with panting breaths.

“Sorry?” Nat offered.

“Another surgeon wouldn’t have been able to manage it. Another five minutes and even I wouldn’t have.”

“That’s why I told them to bring me here.”

“What?”

“I told them. I got myself back to the ship and I told them we needed to come here.”

Tao sank back into his chair, settling his head in his hands.

Nat shifted in the bed, hissing a breath as the movement once again tugged at their injuries. Pressing lines of burning hot pain against scratching harsh cotton. That probably shouldn’t hurt like that.

Tao’s head jerked up at the noise. “Stay still.”

An indulgent smile spread across Nat’s face. “Bossy, your bedside manner needs work.”

“I am the Pirate Lord of Shenai,” he enunciated.

“With terrible bedside manner.”

“I don’t need good bedside manner, I’m not a surgeon anymore.”

“couldn’t hack it as a doctor, had to change career. Too bossy, Bossy.”

Tao’s frown softened. “I know what you’re going.”

“Do you?”

Tao fought a smile. “You really do need to stay still. I don’t want you to reopen your wounds.”

“I’ll try. I just…”

“Let’s get you sat up then.”

The indignity of needing help shifting into a sitting position was somewhat softened by it being Tao doing the helping. Further eased by the pragmatic practicality of Tao’s movements. He had clearly done this for patients before. Nat was no different just because the pair of them had whatever it was they had.

“Am I allowed to eat normal food or am I bound only to broth made for the enfeebled?” Nat asked in as dramatic a fashion as they could manage with their breath coming short and sharp like they had run a marathon then fought the navy off their tail.

It earned them one of Tao’s soft smiles so it was entirely worth the pain.

“You can have real food.” He shifted to the door, opening it only slightly to converse in Shenai and returning to Nat’s bedside shortly after.

“Who’s running your port?”

“I have a second in command.”

“Very illuminating.”

Tao smiled again. “I asked Lin.”

“Lin from the bar?”

“She’s efficient. And skilfully placed for a second in command.”

“My crew are in her bad books.”

“That’s because they move her tables.”

“They also don’t knock before coming into their captain’s cabin; I don’t know why you think I can change their behaviour at this point.”

“Captains are usually supposed to have their crew under control.”

“I’m not your typical captain.”

“Truer words were never spoken.”

Nat swallowed. Was that bad? Or was it just another of Tao’s neutral statements that sounded bad because of Nat’s own self-consciousness when it came to their captaincy. Should they have better control over their crew? It was hard to try for such things considering both how Nat had become captain and the captain they had ousted. They wished they had never brought up matters of Port and Coding.

Thankfully, a knock at the door interrupted before either of them could say anything more. Tao shifted away and came back with a tray of food.

“Would you…” Nat trailed off, nervous to make the request.

“Would I?” Tao prompted, hesitating over his seat.

Wrapping their most dandified persona around themself, Nat asked, “Would the doctor permit that you sit with me?”

“I was going to sit with you. I’ve been sitting with you for days.”

“In the bed.”

Tao moved around the bed, setting the tray on a side table as he settled himself into the bed beside Nat, resting on the same mountain of pillows that propped them up.

Together they sat and at the food on Nat’s tray. Delightful flavours and delicate spices and fresh fruit with the same jasmine tea Tao always served. There was even a bao bun, reminiscent of the first time Nat and Tao had met. It was nothing like the meals Nat had before received in their sickbed. Endrish customs stated all those too sick to come to the table were to be served broth and porridge. Too ill to rise meant too ill to chew.

By the time Tao set the tray to one side again, Nat’s eyes were growing heavy. The last time they’d been so badly injured, they didn’t remember being this tired. Then again, the last time they’d been so badly injured, they’d also been running on massive amounts of adrenaline. They hadn’t recovered in a safe place with someone who loved them.

They settled their head against Tao’s shoulder.

“Rest,” Tao said, soft this time. Not an order.

“Thank you,” Nat murmured.

“For what?”

“Being you.”

Tao pressed his lips to the top of Nat’s head. “You too.”

This has been Not The Dying Kind by Will Soulsby-McCreath. Feel absolutely free to reblog around Tumblr but don't copy and paste to anywhere else (c) Will Soulsby-McCreath

#ockiss24 #writing #fiction #short story #fantasy #lgbtqia+ #lgbt characters #nonbinary characters #oc kiss week #not that kind of dandy #not the dying kind

[shatteredvioletnuzlocke]

Chapter 4: Turo's Dragon (Patch)

After trying their best to keep up with Nemona’s footsteps, the two escaped the dangers of the cave and made it to the comfort of the outside.  Patch was too caught up in the recent of events to process what was happening in the present. Those Houndour nearly killed me! If not for Nemona I would have been dead by now! Why was I so close to the ravine? Why did I follow that weird Pokemon into the cave?! If I hadn’t fallen I would have been safer! 

“Alright Patch… time to stand by yourself,” Nemona huffed as she let go of the trainer’s arm.

Patch plopped onto the ground, the weight of their thoughts making them heavy. I almost died… and it was my first day as a trainer. Was this a mistake? I am meant for this? They just lay staring into the cerulean sky, squinting against the glare of the sun; only isolated with regret. Until they were met with the face of their fiery companion.

“Fuey?” Tamarind warbled, tilting his head with concern.

“Tamarind…” Patch murmured.

Relieved to see their fire croc safe, the trainer scratched the underside of his snout. This pleased Tamarind who thanked their trainer with delightful purring.

“Thank you…” they sighed, trying to speak in longer sentences.

“You feeling better Patch? You just kind of froze down there, did one of the Houndour bite you?”

Patch rubbed one of their legs, knowing they could’ve been brutally attacked. They only got lucky because Nemona reacted faster than they did. Could they ever be as skilled as her? They certainly couldn’t be a champion. 

“No…” The trainer tearfully admitted, “I just get stuck when so much is happening around me. I know that’s bad … but I…I.”

Patch became too choked up on their tears, their face squeezed and their teeth clenched together. It was embarrassing to be so emotional in front of a champion and Patch could tell that their sudden sadness phased Nemona greatly. Nemona must think I’m such a child! They pressed their palms against their face, hoping to shield any dignity they had left. Why am I like this?! There’s no way I’d make a good trainer now! Tamarind put their little arms around their trainer and they could sense immense warmth coming from the little crocodile. Thank you, Tamarind. They wondered if their unworthiness as a trainer meant they would have to return Tamarind to Clavell. 

  Then Nemona sat beside them.

“Hey it’s okay,” she spoke softly, “You’re safe now that’s all that matters.”

“B-but,” Patch’s anxiety began to leak out of their mouth, “does this mean I’ll… be… be a bad trainer?” 

“Oh please, not everyone can be an expert trainer on their first day!” Nemona smiled, “If that were true, everyone in Paldea would be champion rank!” 

Her words rang sour in Patch’s mind, did that mean they couldn’t level up to Nemona? She seemed like a beacon of everything the new trainer wanted to be: confident, adventurous, strong, cunning. Maybe if they became a champion too, they could look at themselves in the mirror and see someone exceptional. Yet they knew that it wasn’t meant to be, they couldn’t even muster up the courage to battle another trainer. 

Nemona got up, threw their bag against the green grass, and unzipped it. She pulled out a plastic container of Oran berries. 

“Here,” she handed a berry to the distraught trainer.

The berry was big enough to fit their hand and a vibrant blue shade, it was perfectly ripe. Personally, Patch never ate Oran berries but they want didn’t to be rude. They bit into the berry’s soft skin and saw that it had white inner flesh. Yuck! The trainer was met with a flavorless, watery sensation. It was good, but it wasn't for them, especially since it felt a little slimy. They preferred bitter flavors like Nanab or Rabuta berries. 

The trainer noticed that Tamarind was staring fondly at the partially bitten oran berry, his stumpy tail wagging with intrigue. As to not seem wasteful, they were happy to give the rest of the fruit to the little crocodile. They held the oran berry to the Fuecoco, who immediately scooped up the whole thing with his jaws and devoured it in just one chomp. Blue juice began to smear and drip from his white mouth. Tamarind’s eager appetite made their trainer cheer up. I may be a bad trainer now, but at least I have this little guy.

“Argggghhh!” a booming voice groaned from the cave’s depths.

Pierce entered from the cave, her maroon and white fur completely unscathed from any new bite marks or burns. It made Patch wonder what became of the Houndour, did Pierce give them any wounds to remember… if any of them made it out? Then out of the cave’s hollow, the large, metallic dragon treaded out with its head lowered. Only something was different about it, it changed. When Patch first encountered the mysterious Pokemon it walked on all four of its legs. Before they entered the cave its back legs became jet engines that allowed them to hover off the ground and they were glowing. Now they were back to walking on all fours again, but they didn’t seem as lively as they had been before. 

The dragon came to a halt when it couldn’t keep its balance any longer, like Patch they fell onto the grass. 

Nemona ran to the strange creature.

“Mon down!”

“Wait, Nemona!” Patch stood up and hurried to the champion, “We still don’t know what it is!”

The black-haired girl knelt beside the dragon, placing a hand on its odd glassy head. The dragon bore a prominent crack on its casque and a piece of it was already chipped. It resembled the shape of a lightning bolt and seemed to extend down to the dragon’s silver jaws. No wonder it’s in so much pain. Patch imagined if they had a similar scar they would be in the dragon’s same position. 

“I saw it in the cave,” Nemona explained, “When it looked different, it was protecting you from the Houndours and the Houndoom.”

Protecting… me? Patch could only remember loud barking, their heavy breathing, and their fast heartbeats. Everything they saw was blurry, It all happened so fast, even though it was a few minutes ago.

Nemona rubbed her left hand against the dragon's head, being just as careful to avoid touching its wound. As she gently petted it, Patch noticed that stands of her black hair began to stand up. The dragon’s eyes weren’t like any other Pokemon they were familiar with, they were a deep black with blue flashes flickering in them. That can’t be normal. Patch studied the dragon further, there were light purple lines along its hindquarters. Along those lines, white particles flowed like bubbles in a lava lamp. Could… could that be its blood?

Patch looked back to Nemona, now even her ponytail stood up. It was like she was under the effect of static and the dragon was generating electricity. The champion went to touch the Pokemon’s weird spikes, only to nearly get shocked by a small bolt of energy. 

“Yipe!” Nemona jerked her hand back, “It’s okay… it’s okay.”

“Are you hurt?” Patch panicked.

Nemona’s ponytail fell back down, and she held her left hand tight, “I’m fine… a small jolt like that can only sting ya!” 

The champion reached into her pocket and pulled out her Roto Phone. She almost got electrocuted and she calls that nothing? Patch took the precaution of recalling Tamarind back into his Pokeball before something else could happen. With the day they were having a volcano might as well erupt. After a moment of scrolling Nemona turned back to the trainer. 

“I… might know what it is?” She handed her phone to Patch. 

Her phone was set to the Pokedex app, on the page of a green Pokemon leaping through a field. They tapped on the image to read its dex entry.

Cyclizar, The Mount Pokemon, a Normal and Dragon type. 

It can sprint at over 70 mph while carrying a human. The rider's body heat warms Cyclizar's back and lifts the Pokémon's spirit.

The dragon’s black head and tail somewhat resembled a Cyclizar, but that was the only two traits it shared. Instead of having green scales, its body was bluish-violet with silver accents and metallic skin. They doubted that it was any smaller than five feet and three inches, if not bigger. While it was a dragon, Patch doubted it was far from a normal type. 

“Do Cyclizars know electric attacks?” Patch asked.

“A lot of Pokemon learn all kinds of moves,” Nemona shrugged, “I can’t tell for sure. Maybe this is just a convergent species…of Cyclizar? Whatever it is, we should help it!”

Nemona rummaged through her bag once again and retrieved a cubed spray bottle of green liquid. A full restore potion, they thought, People spend more money on those than they do for the Hospital! Nemona sprayed the potion on the dragon’s head, making sure to spritz the directly on the crack. Tiny potion droplets slid off but the crack remained at the same size. The champion sprayed it again and the same happened.

“Maybe it’s expired?” Patch chimed in.

Nemona turned the bottle around, “It can’t be I just bought it.”

Patch thought back to the beach, Before the dragon changed it ate something… My sandwich. What was in it? Bacon? Lettuce? Pickle? Can pickles secretly cure the weak?! 

“Uhh,” Patch bashfully improvised, “Do you have a sandwich, Nemona? Something for them to eat?”

“No… I don’t,” Nemona furrowed her brow, “I have some extra Oran Berries thought.” 

Nemona placed an Oran berry in front of the beast, purring noises could be heard even though it wasn’t moving. The blue flashes from its black eyes then stood still and formed into blue rings and they were oddly pixelated. It nudged the berry and swallowed it one bite. 

“I wish I had something bigger,” Nemona sighed, “it would need to eat at least a thousand berries given its size.”

Despite this, the supposed Cyclizar managed to pull itself up feebly.

“Woah!” Nemona was astounded, taking a step back to give it some space. 

The beast attempted to raise its neck but jerked back once more tiny sPatchs emitted from its head. 

“Arrrrg!” The dragon winced in a roar.

“Calm down!” Nemona cried. 

She offered the dragon her last Oran berry but it didn’t seem to respond as it shook about. As Patch heard the Pokemon’s cries, they recognized it sounded helpless and afraid. While all Pokemon spoke in only growls and chirps, Patch felt could only communicate in non-verbal moans when they were the most vulnerable. They’re stuck.

The brown hair trainer, gestured to Nemona to hand them berry, “Let me try.”

The champion had a worried look on her face, “Patch, are you sure?” 

Patch was aware of the perils they had been through that day. They couldn’t retrieve Tamarind before falling off the ravine. They couldn’t be quick enough to run from the Houndour in the cave. Worst of all they couldn’t even deal with two tiny Tarantula’s on their own. This could be the chance where Patch could turn their terrible day around. 

“I’m sure,” Patch nodded.

With an Oran berry in hand, they held it out to the crouched Pokemon. After a few moments, the dragon’s growling turned to purring in Patch’s presence. Its throat was so raspy its voice mimicked the sound of a revving engine.  

“Shhh,” they hushed the dragon, “You’re okay now, just have another bite.”

The blue rings in the dragon’s eyes became larger and padded closer toward the trainer. Titling its head, it licked the berry from Patch’s hand with its tongue being stiff yet oily. They knelt to wipe their hand against the grass.

“Arg!” The dragon nuzzled Patch’s shirt.

“Aw… you’re welcome,” Patch petted it back gently.

Patch became fond of the mysterious Pokemon, I wonder if this means if I should catch it? It's already so friendly to me. Before the new trainer had the chance the violet dragon began to slowly tread down the dusty road. 

“Wait where are you going?” they tried to catch up to the dragon.

Nemona and Pierce followed soon after, and the four of them walked along down the road. Passing by mounds of terracotta rock, with the sounds of Houndour howling in the distance which made Patch a little nervous. The dragon’s footsteps eventually became faster as the group neared toward a lighthouse by the edge of the ravine. 

“Agrias!”  the violet Pokemon bellowed.

Patch caught up to the dragon, who was whipping its tail against the ground. It seemed chipper about something but what? Was it going to beg the lighthouse keepers for food? Out of the lighthouse’s doorless entrance, a young man peered out. 

The young lighthouse keeper had long, well-brushed blond hair with hints of brown streaks. His locks covered the right half of his face, and so a single teal eye was exposed, giving the man a sense of mystery. His outfit was the same shade of purple and white Patch was wearing indicating he was an Uva student.

“There you are!” He hurried to the dragon, “Did you walk all the way here?!”

The blond-haired man seemed to recognize the mysterious Pokemon, but the metal dragon only backed away as he approached. So that’s its trainer, Patch thought disappointedly. 

“Arggg…” the dragon anxiously growled. 

 “Hey, I know you!” Nemona spoke up, “I’ve seen you around… Arnold! Is this your Cyclizar?”

“Arven!” he turned to the champion, “And just what are you doing around Kapheria? Because if you-”

Arven turned back to the Cyclizar, his teal eye drew back as he noticed its wound. His hands trembled, his mouth gapped open.

“YOU BROKE HER!?”, The young man’s voice boomed like a Loudred.

Oh shit! 

“No!” Nemona corrected him, “She broke herself.”

“Kapheria belongs to my father, she can’t be broken!” he yelled at the champion.

Patch sympathized with the dragon’s shrunken body language and knelt to pet her. Kapheria… that’s a beautiful name for a beautiful Pokemon. Kapheria’s metallic body was smooth and slightly warm from the Paldean sun. She uncurled her tail and purred softly as the brown-haired trainer rubbed her back.

“So?” Nemona became tense, “Just take her to a Pokemon center!” 

“That wouldn’t work! Her body is of a completely different genetic material STOP PETTING HER!” Arven redirected his anger toward the unassuming trainer.

 Patch’s eyes shrank, and their now red face became just as cold as their frozen body. They placed their hand behind their neck awkwardly trying to hide it. I didn’t mean to I’m sorry They felt like crying even though their eyes were dried out from before. 

“The point is…” Nemona raised her voice, “She got the crack when she crash-landed on the beach, all we’ve done is try to help her! Just ask Patch.”

Arven kept his gaze on the nervous trainer, squinting his single eye with suspicion. Why put me on the spot like that? They quickly thought back to first seeing Kapheria on the beach, but they were too afraid of her at the time to pick up on the finer details.

“Well then,” Arven sighed as he dug into his pants pocket, “Come Kapheria!”

He pulled out a common Pokeball and went to retrieve the dragon. But as the pale blue beam of the Pokeball neared, Kapheria scampered away and hid behind Patch.

“Agrias!” the dragon winced. 

“It’s okay Kapheria,” Patch pleaded.

Arven pushed the trainer away and tucked the Pokeball back in his pocket. 

“Kapheria,” he spoke softly, “What’s wrong? It’s me… Arven.”

“Maybe she hit her head hard,” Nemona muttered to Patch. 

Arven held his hand out to touch Kapheria’s head, but she ran back to Patch with her tail between her legs. The metal dragon relied on the brown-haired trainer like a shield. 

He went back to scowling at them, “Why is she following you around like that? She barely knows you!”

“I don’t know!” Patch shook under the pressure, “but if she belongs to your dad maybe we should get him?”

There were still so many questions the young trainer wanted to ask. What was Kapheria? Why wasn’t she listed in the Pokédex? Why couldn’t she be healed? Why did she fall out of the sky? Avren quietly grunted to himself as he pulled out his Roto Phone, its case was decorated with a pattern of flowers. Then a flat voice spoke through his phone’s speaker.

“Arven?” the voice asked, “Why are you calling me? Is Kapheria with you?”

The violet dragon began to perk up with its tail slapping the ground. Wait, his dad isn’t here? Then why was Kapheria all by herself? It seems like anything close to an answer brought up another question. 

“Well, she flew in just like you said,” Arven began to blush, “but she only made it as far as the beach and crashed…”

Arven’s dad took a moment to process the information but remained silent.

“She’s okay now!” Arven went on, “But she… cracked her head.”

Patch sympathized with the blond-haired man, they knew that a father’s temper was harsh. 

His dad finally spoke, “Show me.”

Arven clenched his teeth, tapped the screen, and turned it horizontally. He pointed his phone camera at Kapheria who was creeping toward him very slowly. Suddenly his phone slipped out of his hands and began to levitate. It swished around in the air, oogling the dragon. 

“I see,” Arven’s father observed, “Quite a large fracture… already lost a good chunk…”

“Excuse me?” Nemona cut in.

“Who is that?” Arven’s phone turned its screen around.

An older man was depicted on the screen, he looked to be around his early forties. He had the same broad face shape as his son and the same brown hair color in Arven’s streaks. His hair was styled back with the sides of his head shaved but he let his beard grow out around his structured jawline.  

“I’m Nemona,” the champion introduced herself, “you are?”

“Professor Turo Morales,” the man on the phone replied.  

“Well…” Nemona eyed Arven smugly, “My friend Patch found her on the beach. But then we both tried to heal her! And this weird static keeps coming out of her head.”

“No wonder why  she looks like that…” Turo explained.

Kapheria pranced over to the phone, over the moon to see her trainer’s face. She lashed her silver tail happily against the dusty road, rubbing her body beside Patch. 

The professor had an astonished look on his face, “Patch was it?”

“Uh…yes?” Patch asked confused. 

“It seems as though my Pokemon is fond of you…” he pronounced, “She’s usually flighty around new people… yet she's instantly attached to you.” 

Patch felt a sense of honor, it was easy to bond with a Pokemon but not one as mysterious as Kapheria. It made them all the more excited about the Pokemon they could potentially catch.

 “I know this might seem sudden, given I just met you,” Turo proposed, “But would you be interested in looking after Kapheria for me?”

“What?!” the three trainers said in unison. 

“But why? Patch stammered, “Wouldn’t you-”

“Father!” Arven glossed over Patch’s words, “I thought you wanted me to take care of Kapheria for you? This stranger has only known her for less than a day. I’ve known her much longer to understand her.” 

He tried to prove to his father by trying to grab one of the curved horns on Kapheria’s shoulders. While she tried to pull away from the blond hair trainer, he managed to wrangle a single horn which made her wail in distress. It was only when Arven let go of her that the violet dragon began to settle down. 

“Arven… the whole point of sending Kapheria out was for her to integrate into society. She’s been cooped up in the lab for years. Now that she’s been damaged, I want to make sure she’s comfortable and safe without me.” he clarified to his son, “If she feels comfortable around Patch, then let it be.” 

Patch was flattered to be thought of so highly, yet they felt the need to decline Turo’s request. They already had enough going on with learning to be a trainer, looking after their own Pokemon, and beginning their semester at Uva. Taking care of a large, metal dragon seemed like an extra chore. 

“But, Dad!” he pleaded desperately.

Arven’s phone flew toward Patch before they could get a say in the matter.

“Patch, you have nothing to fret over,” Turo explained, “Now that she’s already warmed up to you, caring for her will be very low maintenance.” 

They took a moment to think, Low maintenance sounds good, but what if I catch more Pokemon? Would I favor my own Pokemon over someone else’s? The worried trainer turned to Kapheria, empathizing with the pain of her crack. It would be hard to ignore Pokemon that’s hurt.

Patch nodded, “Alright..”

“Magnificent,” the professor rejoiced in the most monotone way, “Arven will give you her pokeball, I’ll check in with you now and then, Salutations!”

The screen changed to black, and Arven’s phone dropped to the ground. What does he mean he’ll check in with me? Patch felt a vibration in the pocket of their shorts. Upon pulling out their phone they received a text from a contact labeled “Turo”. This can’t be him, we didn’t even get the chance to exchange numbers! 

“Looks like you got yet another teammate!” Nemona congratulated. 

A mix of excitement and anxiety filled their head. They had a feeling that taking care of Kapheria would help them become a better trainer. Then Arven turned to them, looking more aggravated than before.

“Listen,” he began to scold, “You are only watching Kapheria! She is not yours to boss around! So don’t you dare send her into battle!”

The blond-haired student spoke in a very patronizing tone, but Patch couldn’t help but feel intimidated by his temper.

“Wouldn’t dream of it…” they smiled anxiously.

Arven crammed Kapheria’s Pokeball into their hands and huffed as if he was holding back the rest of his frustration. He stormed away from the trainer, kicking against the road with each step. 

“You know if you want your dad’s dragon that badly, we can battle for her!” Nemona called out to him.

Patch panicked, “Nemona!” That’s the last thing I need! 

“I’ll fight on your behalf,” Nemona whispered to them.

“Violence doesn’t solve anything as much as you think it does!” he grumbled.

“Woah okay,” she laughed it off, “you at least want to join us, we’re heading to campus?” 

Arven didn’t answer and stormed into his lighthouse. Patch began to feel bad for the grumpy student. Perhaps they got in the way of his plans, but he did seem eager to look after Kapheria. Maybe I should give her to him next time I see him again? 

For the time being, Kapheria had been through a lot so she deserved a good rest. Patch eased the dragon with some scratches on the back.

“Kapheria,” they said softly, “I’m going put you back in your ball. I promise I’ll let you out later.”

“Agg…” the dragon hummed. Kapheria’s Pokeball seemed to be an older model. It resembled your typical, common Pokeball but it was a little heavier with a chromium sheen; it had to be a least ten years old. Patch gently pressed the lock button against Kapheria’s head and the light of the Pokeball absorbed her. Within an instant, she was gone. Welcome to my team… for now.

<- Chapter 3 - Chapter 5 ->

#pokemon #pokemon violet #fanfic #nuzlocke #miradon #pokemon fanfiction #paldea #pokemon nemona #fuecoco #pokemon arven #arven #pkmn arven #pkmn nemona #professor turo #pokemon professor #pokemon turo #sprigatito #cyclizar

[odetochildhood]

Tabletop games you probably played as a kid:

Crocodile Dentist 

Don’t Break the Ice 

Mouse Trap 

Cranium 

Hungry Hungry Hippos

Operation 

Candy Land

Guess Who?

#why was it so pleasing to press in the crocodile teeth #crocodile dentist #dont break the ice #mouse trap #cranium #hungry hungry hippos #operation game #candy land #guess who #board games #childhood memories #throwback #nostalgia #childhood nostalgia #early 2000s #90s kids

[wh6res]

A MATTER OF TIME — JAEMIN

tw. baby trapping, gender stereotypes, manipulation, suggestive | wc. 1k

“a baby?” jaemin doesn’t like the incredulous tone in your voice. he’s being serious right now but you’re not taking him seriously at all. “jaem, we’re just fresh out of college. you’re an intern. i’m still job hunting. we’re living in this shabby apartment. a baby is the last thing we should be worried about. and we’re not even married yet!”

“then marry me.”

“for a self-proclaimed romantic, this is not how i thought you’d be proposing to me.”

he knows you’re kidding and jaemin lets you change the subject like that. he adores the easy smile on your face as your fingers tangle through his hair, the sunset casting an orange glow on the whole rooftop of the building complex you lived in together. it’s routine at this point. coming up here to watch sunsets together as soon as your boyfriend arrives from work. jaemin doesn’t even bother to change out of his slacks and white polo.

“you know how much i love kids.” you say after a beat of silence. a spark of hope starts to light up in his chest only to be smothered by the words you say next. “but i don’t think i’m ready to care for our own yet.”

jaemin begs to differ.

he sees you in the kitchen every day to make him breakfast. the apartment is spotless thanks to your cleaning. and you give him a peck on his cheek and ask about his day every night when he gets home.

you’re already the perfect housewife. his perfect housewife. he doesn’t understand why you have to care for work or anything else when you’re already happily serving him, he knows you are because he can see it in your eyes, the love and utter adoration you held for him. why won’t you feel happy taking care of the love of your life, right?

but that was a conversation you weren’t ready to hear.

so your boyfriend of four years lies through his teeth and places a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“okay. i understand, my love.”

that night as he brushes his teeth, he locks the bathroom door. maybe you shouldn’t have let jaemin know where you kept your plan b pills. it’s all too easy to swap them out with the pills he hid in a ziplock. and when jaemin came out the bathroom door after flushing the toilet, you were none the wiser that it’s your precious pills flushed down the drain.

when he snuggles up to your side, your eyes were already halfway shut and knowing jaemin had a long day, you thought you both will be turning in early tonight. so, you sighed, relaxed, and cuddled closer to his inviting warmth — only to feel the feather-like touches of his fingers ghosting over your boyshorts.

“jaeeem,” you whine, trying to shove his hands away. “not tonight, okay? i’m already sleepy.”

you don’t see the frown on his face. he’s quick to whisper sweet nothings into your ear before smoothly settling on top of you. fingers expertly running the expanse of your stomach up to the swell of your chest as he slots a knee up the pearl between your legs.

quickies was never jaemin's thing. he loves worshipping each and every part of you as much as he wants but he obliged by your word and kept it quick. he mostly did all the work, and by the time you were creaming on his dick, you passed out right after. jaem doesn't wanna admit liking somno but there was a blinding pleasure about seeing you so helpless, so vulnerable underneath him, so sleepy to even register he hasn't stopped fucking you yet.

it was only after he's shot his load deep inside you did you start to stir awake, albeit voice slurred and eyes hardly open. "jaem? did you just… came inside… me?"

he giggles, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. "you have plan b pills don't you?"

a silly dumb smile appears on your lips before cuddling next to him, eyes already closed. "oh, right, yeah i do."

fast forward to four weeks; you took the pills everyday. every single day. there was absolutely no way you could be pregnant but the two stripes on the pregnancy test is a glaring sight. you'd been feeling off since last week and jaemin had even made an off-hand comment about you being pregnant which he found quite funny. but not you. you didn't laugh. you bought three of the tests to make no room for error but all of it said the same thing — positive. you're pregnant. the last fucking thing you want right now.

jaemin finds you crying when he got home, your sniffles loud as you hiccuped and hurried your head between your legs. "angel? angel, look at me. look at me. what's wrong? what is it?"

about time you took the test. jaemin was keeping track of your cycle and you were most fertile on the day he fucked you raw while you slept. he's been noticing your change of behavior, the mood swings and the weird cravings at three am but never did he say anything. he wanted you to notice on your own, to take the tests on your own so you'll break down the way you're doing right now, only for jaemin to come to your rescue.

as if he wasn't the very same person who orchestrated the whole thing behind your back.

"i'm scared. i'm so scared, jaemin." you were sobbing fat, crocodile tears as you held onto him like he was your lifeline. his dress shirt getting soaked by your tears as he lets you cry against his chest. "i can't… can't do this —"

"of course, you can't. not alone, at least," he threads his fingers through your hair comfortingly as he adjusts the possessive grip he has around your waist. "that's why i'm here. we're a team, aren't we? we'll get through this together."

anon req : hiiiiiiii can i please request jaemin baby trapping the reader? like the reader's gonna be all nervous and stuff and jaemin's gonna act all supportive and nice as if he didn't intentionally get her preggo. thank youuuu luv your works

#MAN ITS BEEN SO LONG HNG #THANK U FOR THE REQ ANON!! <3 #yandere jaemin #yandere na jaemin #yandere kpop #yandere nct #yandere nct dream #yandere jaemin x reader #yandere jaemin x you #yandere jaemin x y/n

[dandelionflower]

She sings alone

When they got to the room, Adrien was sitting at an enormous piano, playing a jaunty tune and bouncing in his seat. He wasn’t even looking at the keys, his eyes roaming the room and choosing to stick on-

Lila.

Oh.

Okay, maybe he hadn’t seen her come in. After all, the piano was really big, so even if Adrien was looking directly at the door, he might not have seen them come in.

Lila danced around the room, orange skirt warping around her legs as she spun near to Alya and pulled her deeper into the spacious closet, taking one of her hands and joining it with Nino, leading the pair in a quick-paced dance until she was satisfied that they would carry it on without her.

Adrien’s eyes stayed on her, closing slightly as he allowed for a fond smile.

Okay, okay fine. That was fine. Adrien was allowed to watch his friends! Even if his friend was (ugh) Lila. Marinette drifted further into the room, keeping to the walls as other friends mimicked Alya and Nino’s lively movements.

Finally, (finally!) Adrien’s eyes caught hers and he gave her a cocky wink as the song he was playing changed bit by bit until it was the accompaniment to her favorite pop song; one they had sung together on their way back from their first date.

Marinette’s lips turned up in a fond smile (she really couldn’t resist those green eyes, huh?) as she took a deep breath and-

“Living in my own world...” Lila hummed out the starting notes, approaching the piano with a coy smile, like Adrien was doing this for her. “Didn’t understand…”

Marinette dug her fingernails into the heel of her hand. This was fine. This was fine. Nothing wrong with a couple of friends singing a song together! Even if it happens to be one of the friends’ girlfriend’s favorite.

Lila hopped up on top of the piano, turning her waist so that while her knees faced one of the walls, her torso was pointed directly towards Adrien, so Marinette wasn’t even able to see what sort of expressions she was making.

...not that she needed to. Because she wasn’t. No one liked a jealous girlfriend, and anyway, Adrien knew Lila was a liar! So there’s no way he could be interested.

Lila leaned forwards, recapturing Adrien’s attention from the keys and forcing it back to her face. Adrien tensed in surprise, but seemed to relax even more than he previously was once his eyes landed back on Lila’s face.

Aaaaaand that was that. She needed to step out for a second.

Marinette pushed off of the wall and began traversing through the dancing pairs, eyes on the doorway. She had only made it halfway when Alix grabbed her and began leading her in an odd dance of her own.

“My usual partners are a bit occupied.” She quipped, jerking her head towards Kim, who was trying fruitlessly to get Chloe to join him on the floor. Nathaniel and Max had their own partners as well, though Sabrina and Marc seemed a bit more acquiessing than Kim’s intended. “Thought since you weren’t dancing, you’d like to join me.”

Marinette remembered all the times Alix had protested cancelling or even postponing class dances due to scheduling. During Bubbler, Alix almost seemed disappointed for the party to be over. Even though she never claimed to be as formal as her father, it was clear that she loved dancing in a crowd with only another person as her anchor in the waves of people.

She put on an encouraging smile, not looking at whatever scene was happening by the piano. Alix was her friend, and if she wanted to be dancing, they would dance.

“Sure thing. Thanks for thinking of me.” Marinette could focus on this, just this, until the song was over and she could go, or, even better, join Adrien by the piano.

It wasn’t a problem, until at the end of the song, Adrien’s voice harmonized with Lila’s in a chord that was so beautiful, it shattered her heart in more ways than one. Alix spun Marinette and between rotations she saw how close the two were, and how excited Adrien seemed. She caught her in a dip and Adrien pressed the keys in the final note, everyone separating from their partners to applaud the musical duo.

“That was great, you guys!” Nino placed a hand on both of their shoulders. “A match made in heaven!” His eyes caught Marinette’s and he amended his statement. “A professional match made in business heaven?”

Lila laughed and gave a mock bow. “Thanks, Nino. I wasn’t really planning on singing; after the rock slide accident where I had to call for help in the freezing cold for hours, I didn’t think my vocal cords would be up to it, but when I heard my favorite song start playing, I guess it was just instinct.” She shrugged in a gesture of humility that was about as real as the rest of her.

“Well, your instincts were great.” Adrien commented, standing up from the piano bench and giving her one of his wholesome smiles. “I really enjoyed playing with you.”

“Likewise.” Lila smiled back until her gaze wandered to Marinette. (Of course, everyone but her boyfriend was looking at Marinette (nope, no not bitter at all)) “Oh, Marinette! You’re still doing the costumes right?”

Marinette nodded, once, teeth grit into a smile.

“I found the most beautiful dress,” she spun to a box that was sitting by the wall, picking it up to bring it to Marinette and show her the red silk inside, “and I’d really love it if you’d modify it for me?” She tilted her head forwards and gave Marinette pitiful eyes. As if she didn’t already know Marinette couldn’t say no in front of everyone.

“Of course. I’d just need your measurements and what you want me to do with the dress.” She could be a ventriloquist with how little she was moving her mouth.

“Great!” She pulled out the bottom of the dress, showing off a familiar skirt. It was the dress from the picture. “I’d really like it if you could make it more form-fitting, less poofy, you know?”

“Don’t you think we should ask if we can modify these dresses before we make any decisions?” Please don’t make me ruin such an incredible dress. “Technically, they are historical artifacts.”

“Grace said you could redesign the costumes, right?” Alya tapped at her phone and pulled up a recording she had made.

“Your main job will be refitting and redesigning all the costumes for your friends.” Grace’s digitized voice affirmed Lila’s request.

“That settles it then,” at least one of her teeth must have cracked by now, right? “I’ll just get your measurements and edit the skirt. I’ll need to do it some other time, since I don’t have my-”

“Measuring tape?” Lila whipped out a stylized tape from the box. It was rose gold and was almost calling to her. “I found this near the dress. I’m sure it will work.”

Marinette took the device reverently, running her thumb over the engraved vines on the sides before catching herself and looking up.

“That’ll work. Can you hold your arms out?”

Marinette took Lila’s measurements with a practice ease, and rechecked before typing her numbers and desired modifications into a document on her phone. When she looked up, she was surrounded by boxes and her friends, looking at her with hopeful eyes, as well as a stack of suits of each boy, none of whom seemed to care.

“Okay, what do you want changed? I already have your measurements.” She knelt down and sat beside Lila’s box, letting her friends come to her. This was her favorite part about designing; giving people what they wanted and making them look however they liked.

Rose and Alix both wanted the fabrics from their dresses converted into suits. That was easy enough. Alya found a sweet orange dress that she just needed refitted. Juleka muttered something about “less wide, but still swishy.” Mylene wanted the opposite; to give her dress a larger diameter.

All in all, Lila’s would probably take the longest, because she wanted all the complexities of the intricate gown to be stripped off and for the silk to be repurposed as a cocktail dress.

Marinette nodded to herself and began stacking boxes, looking up at her friends who were still standing awkwardly nearby.

“Guys, these are way too many boxes for one person to carry; let’s each grab a box and take them to Marinette’s room!” Lila chirped, leaning down to pick up her dress, the hem of it dragging on the grimy closet floor.

Everyone murmured an agreement and picked up their respective costumes, filing out the door. Marinette was the last one out, but just as she was about to step out, she found herself face-to-face with Lila.

“You haven’t found your dress yet, have you Marinette?” Her voice was saccharine sweet, but with the masked loathing that Marinette found herself recognizing whenever Lila spoke to her. “Why don’t you spend more time in the closets?”

Before she could realize what was happening, the closet door had slammed in her face and clicked with what Marinette was certain was a lock.

“Oh no, Marinette!” She heard Lila’s muffled ‘concern’ through the door.

“What happened?” Alya’s voice grew louder as she approached the door, or, more likely, Lila.

“Marinette stopped to tie her shoe and I must have bumped the door closed by accident. I feel so guilty.” Sure, and the tears Lila was crying right now weren’t crocodiles.

“It’s fine girl,” Alya reassured her (no, it wasn’t fine!), “I’m sure Marinette will forgive you. Here, give me your box; I’ll take it upstairs while you go find someone who can get her out.”

“Right.” The sound of receding footsteps; they must have left. “Just as soon as I have a chat with one mister Agreste.” ...or not. There was a cheery ring of the phone, and Lila’s smug tone melted into something more pathetic. “Adrien! Come back downstairs, quick! I’ll meet you at the front desk.” Lila chuckled and left with a single knock at the closet door.

...Great. She was stuck. Through sheer habit from akuma attacks, Marinette traced all four walls with a finger, looking for another secret passage, or even a normal one at this point. Nothing, because of course when she’s comfortable she finds a random exit, but not when she actually needs it.

She groaned and fell back against the wall, sliding to the ground and tilting her head back so she could close her eyes and pretend she wasn’t actually in this situation.

The people I’m closest to either don’t know what’s going on or think it’s handled. She thought morosely. So I might as well get comfortable.

Just as she was about to let herself take a little cat nap (she could hear Chat Noir snickering now), she heard a trill come from the piano. Her eyes cracked open and slid to the corner of the room with the instrument, thinking that maybe one of her friends stayed behind.

But no one was there.

Marinette’s curiosity won out and she approached the keys. They pressed down in a few familiar chords; another one of her favorite songs. She wasn’t really sure how self-playing pianos worked, but it must have been ‘programmed’ with some of the more recent pop songs, despite the fact that the room looked like it had been untouched for years, aside from their recent discovery of it.

Shrugging, she sat down at the bench, watching as the keys continued playing the introduction to her second favorite song. She had nothing better to do, why not?

“I’ve got a lot of things I have to do… All these distractions, our future’s coming soon…”

She sang through the entire song, leaning to her left side occasionally, like some other person was sitting beside her; someone that hadn’t left. Marinette closed her eyes and adopted the illusion of company. Blond hair, beautiful eyes, a teasing grin- no a half-smile, like he’s hiding how much he’s enjoying this. Even though he knows she knows he loves it, just like she does.

Just like she loves him. Her grumpy dork. Her Fe-

There was a clatter near the door, and it crumpled, revealing Allegra, leg out in front of her like she had just kicked it down. Which she probably had.

“Marinette? Lost again?” Her laugh seemed shaken, nervous. She had expected to see someone else.

“Something like that.” She matched the laugh; Allegra’s business was her business. Not Marinette’s.

“Well, come on out.” She gestured over her shoulder. “Your friends are looking for you.”

They walked together out of the ballroom and into the main entrance of the building, where Alix and Kim accosted her immediately.

“Marinette! We need your help. Nino’s gone missing?”

~

“Grace!” Allegra barrelled into the room like a tornado. “He’s here! He’s manifesting.”

Her clipboard clattered to the floor as Grace’s knees buckled. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Felix! He’s here.”

Grace sighed. “Felix is an apparition, ‘Legra. Barely even a poltergeist. He has a mild presence, but there’s no way you could have actually seen him.”

“Oh yeah?” Allegra whipped her head at her, flames in her eyes. “Earlier today, I found Marinette in the hall of portraits. She said she followed a black cat through a tunnel.”

“Well- that could have been-”

“And, and just a minute ago, I heard the piano playing and singing. When I came into the closet; it was just Marinette. She thought the piano was self playing, Grace. As in, she wasn’t the one playing.”

“Felix didn’t play the piano.” Grace reminded her. “Bridge did, because-”

“Because her voice sounded like a dozen murder victims, I know.” Allegra rolled her eyes. “But it was Felix who taught her how to play. Gracie, it’s him.”

“It’s not.” Grace glared at her. “There’s no way he could be coming back so soon.”

“Fine, keep being ignorant. But I’m telling Finny, and he’ll believe me.” Allegra stormed out of the room, turning over her shoulder only once. “Oh, and it looks like Nicky has come out to play, so get ready to handle that.”

……

The rest

@merry-madness @calliopeia @drama-queen-supreme @kaydenth3gayden @mcheang @nomiegnome @never-say-donuts @vixen-uchiha @miracul0us-multishipper @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @chocolatecustarddanish @iwantswifttoblessmysoul @digitalmagpie @ilseofskadi @nerdy-and-a-little-birdy @minty-goose @nataladriana9 @aestheticnpoetic @constellation-king @animegirlweeb @persephonebutkore @ahalloweengirl @r0sebutch @marinettepotterandplagg @beelzzebop @akalovelymaybe @pleasefollowmeuwu @angelost4r @constancetruggle @speaknowtome @some-oxymoron @nerdy-scifi-birdy @purplesundaze @aestheticnpoetic @neptuningkai @2confused-2doanything @goggles-mcgee @grumpy-kitten-vixen @artemisdragona @lookatthestars1 @demonicbusiness @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @vice-artist

#felinette #marinette dupain cheng #ml marinette #ml salt #ml felix #ml adrien #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #felix agreste #Felix Culpa #ml haunted mansion #haunted mansion au #yes I did use high school musical songs because I’m unorginal

[emixion]

Miraculous Side Effects - Day 6 - Maribat March 2021

I’ve been waiting for this one! @maribatmarch-2k21 ao3 link - Damian had an itching in his hands. It started not too long after he had been given his miraculous, the cat miraculous, and it had slowly grown over time.

He found himself with sudden urges to knead his hands into fists when he was in either a particularly peaceful environment, or a particularly stressful environment. A strange combo that he couldn’t quite figure out the cause of. Still, it wasn’t a big deal and after a while Damian got used to it.

His family, however, noticed.

“What are you doing?” Jason asked one day. It was a lazy Saturday at the manor, a rarity for the Wayne family, and Damian had started kneading his hands.

“What?” Damian asked back, not aware of what he was doing. It was practically automatic at this point.

“That thing with your hands.” Jason answered, pointing to Damian’s kneading. The younger boy quickly stopped.

“I don’t know, I’m just-sitting.” he sputtered.

“You looked like a cat kneading its paws.” Dick piped in from across the room. Damian glared at him.

“I did not.” He protested, but Jason just laughed.

“You totally did!”

“Oh, I guess I should explain that.” Plagg, who had until then been nibbling on some cheese, spoke up.

“Explain what, exactly?” Damian asked his kwami, narrowing his eyes.

“The miraculous may come with some…side effects.”

“Side effects?” Jason parroted, clearly very interested.

“Behaviors that match the creature of the miraculous they wield. Some wielders won’t experience any at all, some only a little, some quite a lot. It just depends on the person.”

“So I’m acting like…a cat?” Damian asked, to which Plagg nodded.

“Yep, looks like you’ve got some side effects. Welcome to felinehood, kid.” Plagg snickers before going back to his cheese.

“Wait, wait. So you’re telling me that Damian was literally making muffins?” Jason cackled. “Oh, this is too good.” He wiped a mock tear from his eye. Damian shoved him. “Shut it, Todd.” he scowled.

_______

“Why didn’t you tell me about side effects?” Damian asked Marinette the next time he saw her. They were curled up together in his room and the familiar itch in his hand had returned.

Marinette perked up, surprised at the question. “Side effects? From the miraculous?”

Damian nodded.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal, you probably won’t even get-“ She cut herself off once her eyes landed on her boyfriend’s hands, which had lost the battle of control and started kneading. “Oh my god.”

Damian looked down, embarrassed. “Angel..” he groaned through gritted teeth. Marinette’s face was lit up like a Christmas tree.

“You’re making muffins!” She squealed, swooping in to kiss his cheek. “That’s so cute!”

“Angel.” Damian grumbled again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but I just don’t get to see the other miraculous holder’s animal behavior unless we’re fighting an akuma. It’s nice to not be alone.” She explained.

Damian’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “You have them too?”

Marinette nodded. “Why do you think I have such a hard time with the cold?”

“Because ladybugs hibernate.” He answered, putting two and two together. It would explain why

she was so fond of the garden. And why she would stare intently at aphids sometimes.

“Exactly. So there’s no need to be embarrassed. Just embrace it.” She smiled.

“Easier said than done, Angel.” Damian muttered.

_____

Knowing that his angel also experienced side effects had made him feel a bit better about it, but it did nothing to actually stop the behaviors.

He started growing sleepy in sunny spots and actually napping during the day, something the ever vigilant boy had never done beforehand. He also grew interested in Alfred the Cat’s toys, like the laser pointer and scratching posts. He’d nearly been caught scratching at one of them by Steph, but he played it off by saying that he was just cleaning it.

The biggest problem, though, was the noisy side effects. Those were easily the most odd and the most noticeable of his behaviors.

_____

“Damian!” Lila bounded over to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders with a nervous laugh. “It’s so good to see you~”

Damian immediately stepped away, face recoiling in disgust. So this must be the girl that was bullying Marinette. His eyes darkened.

“I don’t know you.” He said bluntly, turning away from her to go find his angel inside the school. He didn’t get very far before Lila grabbed his arm and tugged him back over.

“You’re so silly, Damian.” Lila let out another nervous laugh. “We don’t have to pretend anymore, all of my classmates know we’re good friends.” From his position next to her Damian could see a bead of sweat form on her temple.

He shrugged her off once more. “I said I don’t know you. Now let me be, I’m here for Marinette.”

Lila’s anxious smile fell into a momentary glare before morphing into a sad frown. With the biggest pout she could muster she latched onto Damian yet again, channeling her crocodile tears.

“Oh, Marinette’s been so cruel to me. Are you here to teach her a lesson? Please, Dami, don’t be too hard on her. Even though she’s a bully, she still-“

Damian had had enough.

Whirling around to face the liar, he promptly showed her his teeth and hissed harshly in her face.

“I’m not going to say it again, peasant. Let me go find my girlfriend or else.” With that he spun on his heel and made a beeline for the school entrance.

He could deal with her nonsensical attempts to use him for popularity, but bad talking his mate was crossing a line.

Wait, his mate?

“Did-Did Damian Wayne just hiss at Lila?” Alya whispered to Nino. He looked just as shocked as he was. “I think so?”

_______

This was a much more enjoyable part of visiting Paris.

Damian was cuddled up with his beloved girlfriend on one of her balcony chairs, a fluffy blanket tossed over their laps.

Marinette had her nose pressed to his cheek, smiling softly between kisses to his face. One of her hands drifted from his chest to comb through his hair.

The feeling was so heavenly that Damian closed his eyes in delight.

Her hand continued through his hair, seamstress fingers scratching at his scalp and it was so nice that he hummed and leaned into her touch. Had it always been this nice?

There was some sort of noise bubbling in his throat, he thought it was a hum, but upon letting it out Marinette’s hand abruptly stopped. Damian nearly whined at the loss.

“Did you just..” Marinette started, staring at him incredulously. “Did you just purr?”

Damian’s eyes shot open at that.

“What?!” He nearly shouted. “No!”

“You did!” Mari exclaimed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “You did purr! Oh my god!”

“Angel, please.” Damian almost begged. “Not this again.”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect it. Have you been having any other side effects at all?”

Boy, did he.

“…Yes.” Damian relents, looking away from her. “A lot actually.”

“Oh.” Was Marinette’s soft response. “…Did Plagg tell you what that means?”

Damian turned back to her. “He said that some users experience behavioral side effects and some don’t.” He answered, watching Marinette try to conceal a smile. “Why?”

“The wielders that experience the most intense side effects are usually the ones most suited for their miraculous.” She grinned. “It would seem you are a true black cat, mon cher.”

Damian processed this for a moment. “What about you? Are you a true ladybug?”

“I am.”

“And didn’t you tell me that ladybug wielders and black cat wielders are often soulmates?”

“I did.”

Damian matched her grin.

“Then on second thought, I guess I don’t mind.”

#maribat #maribat march #maribat march 2021 #daminette #maridami #mlb x dc #marinette x damian

[huenjin]

dripping.

pairing — lee minho x reader | devil!au

word count — 2.6k words

rating — 18+

genre — smut, includes jealous sex, semi public sex (in a gallery), manhandling, spit play, sir kink, breast play, possession kink, fingering, orgasm denial, blow job, deep throating, degradation, humiliation, spanking, marking.

note — happy lino day! i speed wrote this to post something for his birthday so it's heavily unedited. this is filthy af and i might, just might, make a part two of this to delve more into it, haha, because lmao, i love this so much.

It's a big red stroke over the area that should have been for the eyes.

You drop the paint brush with the ends of the bristles still coated in deep red paint. The white plastic sheets underneath your easel prevents the white floors of the room in the back of the art gallery you own from being stained. You look up at the man before you, your friend of all these years, Bang Christopher Chan, shirtless in all his glory as he poses for you. His hands are shoved into the jeans of his pockets, built abs that are clenched and shine under the spotlight and his sharp side profile in your clear vision, all for you to paint down on a white canvas.

"It just needs to dry up now," you smile at Chan and look at him as you lean to the side of your chair, your fingers gripping on the circular edge to keep your balance. "You did well!"

Chan relaxes and walks a few steps to the side to grab his black shirt, only to pull it over his built physique. You take the smaller brush and dip it in the water in the can by your side, lightly brushing it over the toned abs in the picture to highlight it. The model walks towards you, moving behind you and bends forward. He observes the picture. His hot breath fans over your skin and you can feel the goosebumps rise. Chan speaks into your ear, "Damn! I look hot."

A soft laughter leaves your lips and you turn to look at him. Bang Chan is way too close to you, enough for you to see the golden specks in his eyes.

"It better do. Those are a lot of hours gone into you flexing and me painting."

Chan straightens his spine and takes a step back. You place the brush on the projection on the easel and stand up, removing the apron off of you and placing it on the chair.

"Why do you not sell your paintings yet, Y/N?" Chan asks as you walk with him to the door. You shift your dress fabric slightly, a small smile to yourself and you look at him. He continues, frowning, "I mean, you put your whole soul into it."

His face appears into your head. Chiselled jaws, sharp eyes that are able to radiate sheer softness in moments, veiny hands that cup your face while he kisses you like he is going to take possession of what he owns. You respond finally, "You say I put my soul in it and maybe that's why I can't sell it. Because it's not mine. I can't sell something that is not mine, can I?"

Chan looks at you like you are of one screw short. He laughs nervously and pulls the glass door. You take hold of the handle from him, holding the door out for him. His right arm snakes around your shoulders and hugs you, his warm cologne hitting your nose as you let him hold you, to bid him farewell.

"See you later, crocodile."

"You too, dork."

You stand by the door, watching Chan walk away till you cannot see him anymore. You fondly stare in the distance and pull the door backwards to close it.

"Who would have thought the devil's girl is here flirting and drawing naked men?"

You hear the very familiar voice, cold enough to send a shiver down your spine. Your head quickly turns, back hitting the glass door as you look at the devil himself, clothed in a black shirt — of course, the devil wears Prada. Lee Minho grazes his thumb over the edge of the painted canvas before taking it up. You walk towards him, folding your arms over each other.

"Keep it back, Minho," you frown. You look up at the brooding man hovering over your height. His eyes narrow down at your figure and then stare at the picture. He laughs darkly again, "How dare you flirt with another man when you know you are clearly mine?"

He throws the canvas down and you huff in disbelief. The devil can truly act like a child at times and you swear to both the heavens and hell, that you will never get used to it. You bend down to pick it up but Minho clicks his tongue, almost as if he is sending you a warning — a final one because you already ticked him off seemingly with Bang Chan's presence.

"I wasn't flirting with him," you look away and Minho takes a step towards you, his fingers holding your jaw and pulling your face to look at him. He lifts it up slightly, locking his gaze with yours.

"Were you not now, my darling?"

You remember the abdominal muscles of Chan's — sculpted and formed that you sigh, and his broad shoulders, wide and strong. Everything, however, changes when Minho's eyes darken and your mind is filled with lust. Minho's other arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer into him. You are pressed against him and you gasp. A lustful expression makes its way to your face and your thoughts are clouded with Minho now. Everything Minho. His arms, his hands, his eyes, his plump lips that edge closer to you.

His thumb digs into your cheeks and the other four fingers grip your face as he opens your mouth with pressure, tongue jutting out slightly. Minho sniggers, "You might as well be begging to get fucked right now." Your eyes glisten, thighs and core clenching. Minho spits into your mouth and you swallow immediately. He laughs. "Ah, you slutty whore."

Your hand brushes against his growing bulge, up and down gently and you beg as he grips your face tightly, "Do me, please, sir." Minho's hand leaves your face. His nose brushes against the skin by your neck as he breathes hot air against it and you feel a pool of wetness gather on to the already damp fabric of your underwear.

"What thoughts do you have of me generally, angel?" He presses a chaste kiss against your jugular. "Were you hoping for something like this to happen tonight?" His head drops in between your breast, teeth clasping onto the thin fabric and pulling it down, exposing your supple breasts to the devil. He buries his face in between them, sucking in sharply. One of his arms pulls you in impossibly close to him whole the other sharply moves under your dress, teases the wetness of the fabric before rubbing his fingers against them. You gasp, inhaling air sharply.

"S-sir," you stutter. You know for a fact that you would have collapsed had it not been for Minho's grip around you. "I didn't—"

Minho's fingers pull the underwear strap away from your flesh, wrapping around them and in a minute, he pulls them down furiously. Strings of your wetness connect your dripping core and the underwear that is pulled down and Minho is laughing. Loudly.

"What lies! You are dripping, angel." Smirking, he raises an eyebrow at you and taunts, "See, I was correct."

He runs his index finger along your slit teasingly. You buckle under the sensation, gripping on the collars of his expensive black shirt, knees slightly buckling. Minho mumbles, "So wet and all for me. This is all mine," and he prods the index and the middle finger into your core, slightly circling the edge before entering completely – knuckles deep – without any warning and you gasp, scream leaving your lips with words calling for mercy from the devil himself.

Minho thrusts his fingers, in and out, as he sucks on your breasts. His tongue laps around your flesh, areolar and then the nipple. He sucks on it, the sound resonating loudly in the gallery and you worry if the security guard would come in to check.

"Minho—"

Thud. You jerk, spine straightening up and pain seeping through every end of your nerves as Minho's palm hits against your pussy. Your eyes water and you pull Minho closer, your head dropping onto his shoulder. His fingers come in a harsh contact with your core once again and you let out a choked sob.

"It's sir to you, slut. It is sir to dirty whores like you, flirting with men when you clearly know who you belong to. You belong to the devil, angel."

He slaps your pussy once again, your spine straightening up and your head thrown back and he orders, "Who do you belong to, angel?"

"The devil's," you cry, a sole tear falling down your eye, staining his shirt. "I belong to you, sir. I belong to you."

"Good girl," and his fingers enter you once again. You moan out his name. The intrusion is sudden and you are overwhelmed. You gasp, the air raspy against your throat before falling. Your hand clutches his shirt tightly, pulling it a bit and you hear the slight ripping sound.

He presses his thumb on your clit, tapping it slowly, simultaneously and you think you are going delusional. Your mind is empty and the devil is contaminating you, slowly like black ink in water, ripples that soon spread around, ruining everything.

"Sir, oh my fucking heavens."

He sucks on your breasts, tongue lapping against your erect nipple. He lets go only to hover a little above and suck purple hickies all over, telling you, "Fuck, you are insane. Insane for this." His teeth graze against your nipple and you shudder in his hold. His fingers, three in already at your sopping wetness, thrusting in at an impeccable pace. "Look at this sex. Wet and dripping. What a mess you are making and look at this filthy hole, sucking my fingers in and devouring them. You really are a slut."

You cry out at the feeling of being overwhelmingly full, your head falling down and your teeth biting into Minho's shoulder. Your walls are stretching out and you catch him mumbling, "So fucking tight and all for me. Look at this slut being a needy girl for me."

He curls them up into you and your back arches slightly at the tingles. You feel Minho slipping his fingers easily into you and the slick of your arousal dripping down your thighs, making a mess. He rubs your walls, his attention also on your enlarged button and your hips gyrate with him, thrusting and chasing after his fingers desperately. He finds your spot easily and pushes at it constantly. You feel the knot building up and you are moaning, voice barely leaving your lips.

The devil is evil and that is what Lee Minho is.

He removes his fingers the minute he realises you will snap any minute. The emptiness you feel breaks your heart and makes you weak. Your voice, croaky and husky, barely lets out, "Why?" Tears fall down your face at the orgasm denial and your knees fail to keep you up as they hit the ground. Minho lets you fall down on your knees, your vision now his huge bulge.

"Sluts don't get it easy. Ever."

Minho unbuckles his belt, unbuttons and unzips his pants, lowering the pants to his mid-thigh and he takes out his cock. His hot angry girth with heavily leaking precum is right in front of you. His fingers coated in your wetness enters his mouth and he wraps his tongue around it, loudly sucking. His eyes do not leave yours and you understand what he is asking you to do.

He expects the same. You open your mouth wide, tongue slightly stretched out like a girl thirsty and Minho shoves his cock into your mouth. You gag at the sudden entrance, arms lifting up automatically and hands wrapping around his length as you begin sucking on it.

Before you know it, his hand is flat against the back of your head, shoving your head forward. His big cock pushes past your buccal cavity, going deep down your throat and you gag against his length loudly. Minho moans before holding you there, your nose brushing his pubis and you are breathing through your nose, eyes watering.

There is nothing gentle in the devil's movements. He pulls himself back only to thrust his hip forward, cock going down your throat again. He abuses your mouth to his pleasure as he moves against you, procuring pleasure from you hollowing your mouth and your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, slightly wrapping around the length and teasing it now and then.

Your fingers try to move down without his notice. Your index finger finds your clit silently and you rub against it fast, trying to drive yourself to the orgasm you were just denied. With a blink of the eye, Minho pulls himself back, pushing you away from him and you whine. You are on your knees and you look up at Minho, arm stretching forward to grab his length, mumbling like a bitch in heat, "Want it, want it, want it."

He hums, gloating and pride washing his whole face, "What? You want more of it?" He slowly takes many steps backward before falling onto the stool before the easel. He spreads his legs, dick up and erect and he points at the ground before him. "Alright. Come here."

You are quickly on your four. Your right hand moves forward, followed by your right knee flat on the ground and then your left limbs. You crawl towards Minho, lips dark pink, swollen and open in desperation. You want to suck him off more, feel him down your throat, constriction your airways. You want to feel him so close. You want to taste him more.

You wrap your lips around his cock once you reach, pushing your hair away. Kissing the angry purplish red tip, you suck at the head. Minho throws his head back in ecstasy. You feel him twitching in your mouth, every single time you take him deep down your throat, gags hitting off the flesh and dying in your mouth. He pulls out barely before he is pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the white walls of your bedroom, followed by the deep moans and sighs emitting out from Minho's lips as he fucks your mouth mercilessly. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway, your throat constricting and eliciting a groan from him.

The flat of your hot tongue presses against his length. He finally lets you take control by a bare minimum. You lick his length, moving your head up and down as your wrists twist slightly, the right amount of pressure applied. Minho mumbles, "You finally decide to act like a good girl, didn't you, you slut? Did you think you might get rewarded then?" He holds a fist full of your hair and pulls you back to have you look him in the eye.

"You are mine," he emphasizes. His eyes darken and your heart beat races for the personification of evil. "Your soul, your body, your heart," he tightens his grip and your eyes widen, "They are all mine." He bends forward to kiss you, his tongue lapping against yours, taking in the salty taste of himself. He kisses you like he wants you to lose your sanity or bring him some.

And when he lets go, he holds his cock and he finds you salivating, eyes fixed on it, lips wide apart.

"Now, make the devil the happiest tonight."

#stray kids smut #skz smut #minho smut #lee know smut #kpopscape #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz scenarios #minho scenarios #minho imagines #lee know scenarios #lee know imagines #minho fic #lee know fic #minho fanfic #lee know fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #lee know #lee minho #stray kids #skz #minho x reader #lee know x reader #kpop smut #dom!minho #sub!reader #devil!au #writings.rue

[nightowlwriting]

summary: you've always known there's a soulmate on the other end of your injuries. when you're working the victory pit during the harvest close festival, though, it's the furthest thing from your mind. ironically, it's the closest mollymauk has ever been to you.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: canon level violence, mentions of molly activating his swords, canon level allusions to war and corruption

title credit: the steve miller band

note: takes place during episodes 17/18, requested from the soulmate abc list: damage done to a person also translates into their soulmate’s body (cuts, bruises and all).

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Throughout your childhood, you’ve been called blessed. It started with bruises and scuffs. Little things that are perfectly normal for a child to receive and not remember. The problem with your bruises and scuffs was that they were not your own. When you grew into your celestially gifted powers, it started to make more sense.

Your family had stories of soulmates bestowed upon their clerics, but it wasn’t something that had happened in many generations. Nobody was really concerned until the wounds you received from your soulmate began getting worse - deeper, taking longer to heal, more life-threatening. It worried you, and your family, but it pressed you to become a better cleric. To find your source of power and lean into it. You heal yourself each night before bed, hoping that you’re giving some sort of comfort to the person you’re connected to. Even if you have no energy spells, you pull a pearl you were gifted when you left your hometown and press your lips to it and let it fill you with the love and warmth of life and still heal yourself. It’s your nightly ritual and, since you’ve started doing it, you haven’t missed it once.

Except once, but really that doesn’t matter because of how you miss it. It’s the Harvest’s End festival and the Victory Pit, and you’ve been conscripted to work it. You hate working for the Crown, but it pays well and allows you to help people. Your clerical skills and magic get used every day and you help the people that really need help. Still, the inevitable war looming over the Empire worries you. You’re skilled for your age, more so than the other clerics who perhaps have years over you, and War Clerics don’t have the longest life expectancy. After the last time that your soulmate died, and the grief and pain it inflicted upon you, you don’t want to do that to them. You try not to think about the several times you’ve felt their death and resurrections, though, because it worries you.

Most of all, it tells you very important information about them. They’re some sort of adventurer, best case scenario. The worst case, though, is that they’re a criminal. Regardless, you’ve become fond of them. The cuts don’t really hurt as much anymore, but they still pucker and scar when you heal them at night. There have been a few times when you’ve gotten hurt and you know that they’ve received those wounds, so perhaps they know about you as well. You hope they do because it would be awfully lonely to be the only one out of a pair to be aware that there is, in fact, a pair.

Still, your soulmate is the furthest thing from your mind as you funnel people into the Victory Pit. Clerics double as security, mostly because the Guard want to watch the fights more than they want to keep people safe, and you grit your teeth trying to keep your prepared spells at the back of your mind. You have several healing spells in your mind, but a few offensive ones as well. In Victory Pits of the past, you’ve had to use them. Now, you’re just sore and aggravated with the hickey that appeared on your chest last night - that you did not receive yourself. It doesn’t bother you that whoever you’re linked to is getting lucky, but it would be nice if you didn’t have to look at the proof for the next week or so.

Someone stamps on your toe and you bite back your curse, skittering backward and colliding with someone who is cursing. “I’m sorry,” You apologize on instinct, turning and grabbing the person by the arms. You’re momentarily struck by how beautiful they are, but you’re at work. “Are you okay? I’m a cleric working in the Pit today.” They glance down at you, baubles and trinkets swinging from their gaudy horns, and you realize with a start that they're purple. It’s not that tieflings are rare in Zadash, but purple ones are. The group they’re with also has a blue tiefling, a small green halfling, and a half-orc. Truly a strange band of people.

“No, no,” The person you’d run into says, voice smoother than you’d anticipated, “I’m alright. Are you okay, darling?” They smile down at you, completely red eyes smiling with merriment as they settle their hands on your biceps in a mirror of how you’re holding them.

“Please, I ran into you,” You shake your head, “Besides, I’m working. It’s my job to make sure that you’re okay.” You give them your name, telling them to seek you out if they shall become injured.

“Oh,” They sweep you grandly underneath their arm, squishing you into the side and stepping toward their group for a few steps, “I will get painfully injured today, but I will seek you out specifically, darling. My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf, and I am fighting with the Mighty Nein. You may call me Molly, all my friends do. I am a man of many friends, and you are one of them now. Keep your eyes on me today.” He winks and then sweeps himself away with a flourish, leaving you standing and a little flustered.

After that, the Victory Pit starts faster than you anticipate. You're stationed in the Pit itself, one of the more powerful offensive clerics on the roster today when you start to put the pieces together. You're not sure why you didn't notice at first, but Mollymauk - Molly - has a lot of scars. A lot of familiar scars. You trace a particularly deep scar on your collarbone as you watch the first Pit fight and wonder. What are the odds? Could Mollymauk really be…? A horrible thought hits you, and you can feel yourself pale. He's fighting in the Victory Pit today. He's going to get hurt, which will either confirm or deny whether or not he's your soulmate but if he is… Shit, you're in for a rough day. You know that The Mighty Nein is slated for the first fight against an Otyugh. They're nasty creatures, although not really native to Zadash you've still had to heal up some rather awful sucker wounds in your time.

You're glad to see that Mollymauk holds his own in the fight, and stays far away from the Otyugh. It's hard to keep your eyes off of him with the idea that he might be your soulmate and you get the sense that he's a melee fighter more so than a magical fighter in the beginning, but then he activates his swords, and the pain blossoms in your ribs as he drags his blades along his.

There's no question now. Mollymauk Tealeaf is your soulmate. Watching the way he fights and interacts with the Nein during their fight with the Otyugh everything about the injuries you've received from your connection with him makes so much more sense. You actually find yourself… Weirdly proud of your scars, then. You've heard about the Nein, how they're swords for hire and defeated the Fey Spider in the tunnels, but still. Mollymauk seems like good people. Maybe it's naïve to hope on your part because he's your soulmate, but you'll take it until you're proven different. You've been doing things like that for most of your life, and you'll be damned if you stop now. You know you can hold your own, too, so that helps. The next fighters pass in a haze to you, as you stand ready to save someone from death the Banderhobb fight passes with no need for clerics, and the fights with the Giant Crocodile and Ice Troll are much the same.

When the Mighty Nein is back up, your senses fire to life. The next monsters are Winter Wolves, nasty creatures with powerful ranged attacks. You steady yourself against the half-wall you're stationed behind, readying yourself for whatever pain Mollymauk is about to feel. The beginning of the fight is tense, and your fellow clerics watch you curiously as your hands grip tight and relax intermittently on the wall in front of you. When one wolf whirls and releases a nasty, icy breath you heave a sigh of relief that Mollymauk wasn't hit but then the other does the same thing. You feel it more than see Mollymauk get hit, sharp shards of pain washing over your skin so intensely that your eyes roll back in your head and the only thing that keeps you from collapsing is the fervent grip on the wall. Someone lays their hands on you and you feel a swell of magic before you shake them off. "I'm fine," You grit out, "Save your spells for the competitors." Even though you could use the healing, there's a reason clerics wait in the wings at the Pit. It's very possible that someone could be on death's door before the end of the day and if they die because you wasted a spell you'd never forgive yourself.

By the time you fight the darkness from the edges of your vision, Mollymauk is delivering the killing blow to the final Winter Wolf. You're not sure how he's still standing, let alone aware of his body enough to swing his swords like they weigh nothing. Your knees practically knock together as you gather your wits, wiping a hand down your sweaty face. The trials only get harder, and one hit almost took you down. You know you should heal yourself but you're not really sure if your nightly heals affect Mollymauk and, while you have no love for the Empire, it wouldn't be fair if your heals do help him. (And, again, there's the preemptive guilt of maybe not having enough energy for a lifesaving spell. You're just too selfish to use your pearl, too, so you have to make do and conserve your energy.)

The next group comes out and whispers flitter down the row of clerics to you: Owlbears are next. They're awful creatures, nasty when there's only one but two are damn near unmanageable. You happen to know these two aren't even mated, but that hardly matters. It's going to be a bloodbath at best, and at worst there'll be a death. Reaching over the wall, you unhook the latch that keeps it connected just in case you need to rush into the field. The beast-keepers are technically supposed to be the first on the scene, but you're also technically more powerful than they are. You rarely listen to the rules at the Victory Pit, mostly because you're a Crown Cleric and not from the Temple of the Platinum Dragon.

The fight is intense and the clerics next to you barely hold you back when several members of the team go down. They have clerics on their team, yes, but it's hard to tamp down your instincts when you were practically raised by your family for clericdom. It's only when you hear the whispering chatter that the beast-keepers are gathering the magical manacles that you jump into action, flinging open your door and sprinting into the field. The gasp from the crowd barely registers in your mind as you dodge an attack, skidding underneath and stopping next to what looks more like a bloody lump of cloth than a humanoid. The beast whirls on you, but you're faster. You've cast spiritual weapon before it can strike, the air in front of you and the injured party member shimmers and then, the first thing you thought of, a replica of one of Molly's scimitars but three times the size, appears and blocks the strike.

The Owlbear reels back again, going for another, but you're right there to block it. The beast-keepers are going to get an earful from you when you're done with the Pit, but for now, you're relieved that they've managed to subdue the beast and you can focus on the fallen. They're not in great shape, and with a precursory feel of their pulse, they're incredibly close to death.

You put your hands on either side of their neck, close your eyes, and pray. It's not necessarily a religious relationship with the deity that gives you the powers you have to heal, but it's still technically a prayer. The contestant heaves a deep breath, and you can feel the life rush into them from the fold between this plane and the next. The other clerics have gotten everyone else, so you focus on your patient. They probably need two or three more spells before they’re fully stabilized, which is going to burn through either your higher energy spells or all of your lower levels. You grit your teeth as you roll your patient onto the blade of your spiritual weapon, using it as a makeshift gurney. They’re already calling for the next team as if the clerics they’ve hired aren’t already spread thin trying to keep this team from dying. The Mighty Nein are at the doors, holding them open for the clerics, and you barely catch Molly’s eyes as you bring your patient off of the Pit floor and into the waiting room. The scimitar disappears as you lay them on a cot, quickly finding the worst wounds and sealing them with magic, burning through a lot of the spells you prepared and the arcane energy that it takes to cast.

The next beasts are angry and wily - displacer beasts - so you don’t really have time to think about how Molly is lingering near you, trying to find a time to talk to you while you’re trying to keep this person from dying. You stabilize them eventually, but the scarring will be intense. There’s nothing that you can do about that with what you’ve got now. Outside you can hear the next team win against the beasts and stress begins to bundle in your shoulders at the thought of how quickly the Pit is moving. Molly is hovering over your shoulder as you step back and begin clearing the blood off of your hands, despite his group being called out once more.

“That was my sword,” He rumbles, keeping his voice down and stepping even closer to you when you turn around. You track his tail thwipping through the air behind him, either very agitated or incredibly curious. Either could be incredibly accurate, and you don’t really have enough time to parse any information from the rest of his body language.

“Yes, it was,” You want to grumble, but it comes out softer than you intended, “Sorry, but you’re being called and I have to get back to my station so that you don’t die.” Molly tries to catch your arm when you slip around him, but with a promise and a smile you turn back to face him. “Don’t fucking die out there, and then we can talk, okay?” You wish that you could tell him, warn him really, that they’re about to face a Hill Giant. An incredible creature, really, but pushed to a near unreachable limit by the beast-keepers and their prodding, angry spears and arrows. It makes you sick to your stomach, but this is your job. The Empire pays your bills and keeps you fed - they would not tolerate any dissent from you on the matter of the Victory Pit and the treatment of the creatures captured specifically for death, no matter how strong of a case you can make. Instead of telling Molly what he’s up against, you casually brush the back of your fingers against his hand and let your magic make its way into his system. He should be okay, you think, the blessings of a cleric are strong.

Making your way back to your station, you fidget with your uniform. One of your friends - using the term loosely because you’re more like coworkers - catches your sleeve as you pass him. He’s grinning, mischief in his eyes. “You’ve never given a contestant your blessings before, what’s so special about him?”

“I didn’t do anything,” You pull away from Brock, “I just told him that if he wins, we can have a conversation. That’s all.” You shoot him a pointed look and then, after glancing around to make sure nobody else is looking, a wink. Brock grins and relaxes into his station, shaking his head. You’re known to push the limits, but outright break the rules? It’s almost unheard of for you. Everyone knows you’re blessed with a soulmate and Zadash is a bustling metropolis, frequented by the sort of people who get the injuries you sometimes show up to work with. They know you’ll need to stick around to find them, so you’ve only pushed the limits the Empire gives you, not outright shoot past them. By the time you’ve found your station again, the Hill Giant is almost out onto the Pit floor, and Brock has probably figured out why you’re so soft on one particular contestant.

The giant knocks out one of the pillars, roaring so deeply it vibrates in your chest. He’s pissed, rightfully so. The spines sticking out of his body make you sick to your stomach, and you have to look away. Your eyes find the halfling that was with Molly earlier, but as she sprints off toward the human woman, you realize that she’s a goblin. An interesting myriad of people traveling together, but you’ve seen strangers come through your town. She fires off two of her bolts, missing entirely, and you watch one arc through the air and strike off of the helmet of a Guard, who yelps.

You snicker as she takes off again, and the human man fires off his magic. It’s strange to see magic come from another person, especially magic that is clearly learned and not given. It almost makes you wish that your magic was learned instead of bestowed upon you but that would mean losing Molly, who you’re already rather fond of. You’re watching the man try to keep his cool and almost miss the other tiefling casting - a giant fucking lollipop appearing out of the air, smacking the giant, and then flames rocketing out of her hands to hit him, as well. You grin when you realize she’s a cleric, too. You wonder if she has a soulmate, but it would be improper to ask.

When the giant reels back and hurls a large chunk of wall, you suck in a breath. Everything is happening so fast, and Molly… Not only will it hurt to take the hits, but he’ll get hurt. It’s not just about you, but if he goes down so will you, and then you can’t help anyone. You’re almost relieved when the giant turns toward the half-orc, but then Molly is sprinting up toward the giant’s legs, his swords out. He’s a melee fighter, getting right into the thick of it and making your skin crawl. Molly’s swords carve through the giant like butter, making you cringe because the giant is pissed, and Molly won’t have time to get away from whatever is about to happen to him.

When the giant whips around, his eyes are fully black and bleeding down his face. You’re almost certain that’s Molly’s doing, but you don’t really have time to figure it out. The giants club swings up, and then down, and before Molly hits the ground your world has gone hazy with pain and darkness.

The pain and darkness keep their hold on you for what feels like forever. You know that eventually you’ll wake up, but floating in the darkness of unconsciousness you think of Molly. Did someone heal him? Is he okay? You’ve felt the other times he’s died, the way it rips you apart inside, the way you sleep for what feels like days before you wake up. Is this the same way? Has Molly died, even for a second, and you’re left to suffer the consequences? The stories your family told you all ended with soulmates together, no longer bearing the injuries of the other, because of the love that they share and the way they give and take equally. Nobody told you stories of soulmates where one dies over and over again - or at least comes close to doing so rather regularly. You’re still floating in the abyss when you hear his voice. Molly’s voice startles you because normally it’s the deity who blessed you with magic that comes to you, reminding you that everything is going to be okay.

But this time it’s Molly. He’s saying your name, asking you to wake up so that he can see your eyes again. Faintly, as you drift closer and closer to the surface, you can feel the light tracings of fingertips against the crest of your cheekbone and the faint wisp of breath against your hair. He keeps speaking, telling you things that you’re not sure you’ll remember when you finally float to the surface.

That happens faster than normal. When your eyes finally feel light enough to open, Molly is there. He looks a little worse for wear, but you can tell he has at least one healing spell in him. When he realizes you’re awake, a large grin splits his face. “There you are, darling,” He sighs, leaning forward in his chair to be even closer to you, “Scared me for a moment there.”

“Now that I’ve found you I highly doubt that you can get rid of me, Mollymauk.” Your voice is hoarse as you push yourself up, one of Molly’s hands curling around your shoulder to help you sit up on the cot. When you’re upright he moves from the chair he had set up next to your bed to sit next to you, his entire side pressed against yours. “You are a man who is constantly in danger.”

“That I am,” He leans against you, his horn pressing into the side of your head but you don’t mind. He’s warm and nice. The aches in your body numb a little bit just by being near him, but Molly seems like he has a bit of an ego so you don’t mention that. “Do you know why we feel each other this way?”

“Have you heard of soulmates, Molly?” You drop your voice to a whisper and turn your face to him, your lips pressed against his lavender forehead, “My family has legends of them, given to clerics to help them become the best healers they can be. Pushed to their limits by the other’s injuries, but also filled with an overwhelming need to be good enough. To have enough power. To protect, and love, and heal.” You kiss his forehead, hoping it’s not too bold, and let one of your last healing spells flow through his body. The last one you cast on yourself.

“It’s rotten work to love me, darling.” Molly finally says, one hand searching yours out, “But I do feel much better having met you. I feel connected, loved.”

“It’s not rotten work to love you, Molly. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I do not plan on stopping now.” You kiss his forehead again and his head turns, his own lips pressing against the side of your neck as he sighs, “Perhaps your work is not done in Zadash, but it should be soon.” You drop your voice to a conspiratorial whisper so that only Molly can hear you, “War is coming, Mollymauk. You, The Mighty Nein… You should run before you’re conscripted to fight.”

“And you?” He asks, red eyes never leaving yours as he pulls you impossibly closer, “What about you?”

“I… I’ll come with you, if you’ll have me.” You watch the shock flicker across his face for a brief moment, but then it settles into something that you can’t find a name for. “But if not, you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t be conscripted to be a War Cleric, not at first. They’ll take the clerics from the temples before they take me.”

Molly caresses the side of your face with his other hand, a small and hesitant smile playing on his face. “Darling, of course, I’ll have you. The Nein will, too. We’re meant to be together, after all.”

#critical role imagine #c2 imagine #cr imagine #mollymauk imagine #mollymauk tealeaf imagine #mollymauk / reader #mollymauk x reader #campaign 2 imagine #critfic

[babyybitchhh]

Sir Crocodile x Reader 18+

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 1,000

Warnings: usage of 'daddy' as a title, slight misogyny, PIV sex

A/N: I'm gonna' keep doing these, actually, because working with a word limit is kind of fun.

♥♥♥♥

You know he’s in a foul mood as soon as you step into the room. It’s not a difficult thing to spot the irritation etched across his face, the grinding clench of his jaw as he bitterly chews at the butt of his cigar and puffs out heavy clouds of curling white-gray smoke like some sort of incensed dragon. The richly furnished study is hazy with it, distorting your perception of reality and giving it a dream like, ominous quality but even that is not enough to turn you away.

Slinking closer, you round the desk and step right up beside him. This is not a luxury afforded to many. Such an invasion of his personal space would result in painful, tortuously prolonged death for most anyone else but for you he makes an exception. For you he allows the press of your body against the side of his plush, high backed chair and he accepts your hand sliding into place across the back of his neck without so much as a grunt of acknowledgment. You alone had this privilege to freely come and go, able to move about however you pleased within his presence. It was an altogether easy, amicable relationship between master and pet.

But, still, he had not spared you so much as a glance since you’d entered. It was curious indeed and you lean close to his shoulder, interestedly glancing over the parchment clasped in his broad hand, but the World Government seal stamped in the bottom right hand corner gives you immediate pause.

“What is that?” You ask slowly, softening the interruption with a placating caress along his nape and gently displacing the dark hair there.

As if the sound of your voice had roused him from his trance, Crocodile finally turns his attention up at you. He studies your face for a long beat before dropping the paper on top of the desk. Bringing his hand up, he plucks the burning cigar from his mouth and a fresh, billowing cloud of smoke pours out of him as he exhales. Instinctively, you breathe deep the pungent, seasoned aroma of his favorite tobacco and a pleasant wave of goosebumps erupt across your skin, tingling warmly in response to the familiar scent.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He says dismissively, snuffing out the cigar in a crowded ashtray at his elbow. “This is men’s business.”

Smiling, because that’s what he expects of you, your fingers slide higher to thread through his hair. “Yes, daddy.”

Crocodile hums his approval when he reaches out to palm your waist and tug you right up against him. You understand what he wants without needing to be told, obediently moving to throw your leg across his lap and climb up on top of him as he swivels the chair around to make room for you. Settling your weight on his thighs, you loop your arms around his neck and lean in to peck at his lips with an accompanying, impishly inviting sigh.

This, too, is something he wouldn’t permit from just about anyone else. You were presumptuous and strong willed, eager to take whatever it was you wanted as much as you were eager to please him. Hardly the gold standard of submission one would expect a man in his position to prefer when it came to feminine companions.

But he seems to like that about you, and he indulgently opens his mouth to kiss you back. It’s a possessive, demanding gesture - equal parts teeth and lips and tongue - and you can taste the lingering cigar smoke cloying deep in the back of your throat. Your head spins with it as he slides the rough palm of his hand over your thigh and under your flirty little dress while the other curls around your back to pin you against the front of him. The cool, unforgiving steel of his hook digs into your spine, just this side of uncomfortable, but you make no move to protest when he reaches back to grab a greedy, pinching handful of your ass.

Growling faintly at the lack of cotton and lace under his palm, Crocodile squeezes so tight, so vigorous that you’re sure to find bruises in the shapes of his rings come morning. “Such a good little girl,” he practically hisses, grinding up against the bare heat between your legs with a rolling thrust of his hips. “You always know just what I need, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, daddy. That’s why I’m your favorite.”

He chuckles, very softly, against the side of your neck. Reaching lower, his hand dips into the space between your thighs so he can drag the tips of his fingers along the seam of your cunt with a harsh, domineering swipe. You can’t stop from shuddering at the sensation, so indelicate and forceful, but undeniably arousing at the same time. Your pussy drools for him, leaking slick all along the front of his pants as you circle your hips over the hard weight underneath until you can’t even think straight anymore.

By the time you finally sink down on his cock a small eternity later, you’re delirious with need. Crocodile always fucked you so good. He knew exactly how hard, how fast, how rough you wanted it and he gave it to you in spades. His hand fisted in the back of your hair was unforgiving and worked as an effective leverage point to guide you through the motions at exactly the tempo he wanted, at exactly the angle he knew would drive you wild. You clawed at his broad shoulders, wailing out your pleasure even as he tauntingly, threateningly drug the sharp point of his hook across your flushed skin to leave scratches where his nails otherwise would have.

You burned from the inside out for him. Yearned for his rough, punishing attention the way some women yearned for flowers and sweet sonnets. He was not a kind man but he was your man, and you his perfect doll.

#one piece #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader #self insert bullshit #my writing #i love this man ya'll

[captainamericasbeard]

Empathy Ch. 7

@Pairing: Bucky x Empath!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut. It’s soft smut but it’s smut nonetheless. 

Summary: Y/N is an empath tasked with helping the Avengers but healing only comes if you want it.

A/N: This chapter came soooo much easier than the last one. I’m really proud of this one right here. Enjoy! If you want to be tagged just send me an ask.

Chapter 6 ll MASTERLIST

You awoke the next morning tangled in Bucky’s arms and legs. It took you a few moments to remember where you were and why there was another person wrapped around you. When it dawned on you that you and Bucky had spent a peaceful night in each others arms, uninterrupted by terrifying visions, you couldn’t stop your smile. You carefully turned yourself over so you could face Bucky without waking him. You looked at his serene face, his long eyelashes splayed out on his cheeks, and his full lips soft and relaxed and you thought your heart might burst. Bucky stirred in his sleep. He pulled you closer and buried his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder and you giggled at the scratch of his beard.

“You’re waking me up doll. You’re all excited and you’ve got my heart pounding,” he murmured.  

“Sorry Bucky. But you didn’t have any nightmares. I was just happy,” you replied.

“I know. Dreamt abut you instead,” he said as he started to peck featherlight kisses on your neck.

“What kind of dreams?” you asked, your stomach fluttering.

“All kinds of dreams,” he said. He finally opened his eyes to look at you and his own were twinkling darkly. Your breath stopped at the look in his eyes and the two of you lay staring at each other like that till the air was thick with tension. Bucky shifted up so his face was next to yours on the pillow and began to place kisses on your eyelashes and nose as he’d done the night before. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you impossibly close to him. Your breath was caught in your chest as he got closer and closer to your lips. Finally, finally, when you felt like you would fly apart if he didn’t, he brought his lips to yours. It was tender and soft until it wasn't. Your arms were around his neck and your hands tangled in his hair and his warm hands were at your waist and your stomach and your ass. You don’t know who came up for air first but eventually you broke the kiss and pressed your foreheads together, both breathing heavily. Bucky continued to lay little kisses on your face. Your eyes were closed but you felt a tear slip out from under your lashes as a shudder ran through your body. Bucky pulled back from kissing you and opened his eyes you find your tears flowing freely. He brought his hands up to your face to wipe away your tears and brush the hair out of your face.

“What’s wrong little love?” You were silent for a beat as you tried to organize what you were feeling.

“You love me,” you eventually sighed, opening your eyes to look into his clear blue ones.

“Of course I do! I told you last night and nothings changed,” Bucky replied.

“I know it’s just, I can feel it. I can feel it and it fills me up and makes me stronger and I… I’ve just never felt that before.” Bucky’s look of concern broke into a smile and he kissed you again, this time shifting so he was on top of you caging you in with his arms, making you feel little and loved.

“I love you, Y/N, and if you’d let me, I’d like to show you,” he said, his eyes darkening again. You nodded. He kissed you slowly as he inched his leg in between yours. You felt your stomach tighten and you moaned softly into his kiss. Bucky began to inch his hand down your body. He took your leg and hitched it up over his waist as he groped your ass. Your heart was pounding wildly as you felt the emotions building in your chest. You quickly broke the kiss.

“Wait,” you said pulling away from Bucky slightly. Bucky looked horrified. He immediately pulled his hands off you and made space between the two of you.

“I’m so sorry,” he rushed to say and you cut him off with a laugh turning his look of horror into one of confusion.

“No, no. it’s nothing like that,” you said holding his face to allay his fears. “It’s just, sex with me can be pretty… intense. Emotionally.”

“Well, I cant say I’m surprised,” Bucky said with a chuckle.

“Yeah… not a shock obviously. It’s just… I’ve kind of avoided it because of that,” you said avoiding Bucky’s gaze.  

“We don’t have to do anything, darlin’,” Bucky said and you loved him even more for it.

“No,” you said, “No I want to, I really want to, it’s just, well… you’ve been warned.” Bucky laughed at that.

“Noted,” he said as he closed the gap between you once again. He brought his lips to yours and you were lost. Lost in the ocean of your love for each other and every wave threatened to overtake you. You anchored yourself to Bucky and felt peace in the storm.

The two of you were a tangle of arms and legs and Bucky’s hands were everywhere- massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples, tickling down your sides, and dipping into your core where you needed him most. You moved as one, as though you’d been together the whole time. You both felt dizzy with the mutual love that was swirling between you two.

“Need you Bucky, please,” you breathed out and Bucky obliged. He lined up with your entrance and slid in in one perfect motion, the two of you connecting as though you were made for each other. He set a steady rhythm and you could feel the air in the room growing thick with electricity as the coil in your belly tightened. You whimpered as Bucky brought his fingers down to your bud and you felt as taut as a tightrope. It was only seconds before you snapped and a crack of thunder pealed through the room as you reached your high. Bucky didn’t stop as the waves crashed over you and you immediately felt yourself building again.

“One more for me darlin, I know you’ve got it in you,” he said, his deep voice sending tremors through you. His lips trailed down your neck till they reached your erect nipple which he took between his teeth. The sensations were too much for you and you came again almost immediately as Bucky followed right behind you. Thunder cracked and electricity bounced around the room as you came down from your highs. The sockets in the walls popped and cracked and everything went dark as the lightbulbs flared bright and exploded. You both looked at the mini lightening storm filling the room and burst out laughing

“Well that’s new,” you exclaimed as the storm petered out.

“That’s… what the… is that going to happen every time!?” Bucky asked looking around bewildered.

“I have no idea!” you said. “I think we blew a fuse,” you said seriously and you both burst out laughing. Bucky flopped down beside you and pulled you close. There were goosebumps breaking out on both your skin as you held each other tight.

Bucky turned to you, his expression open and honest where it used to be so closed off. You smiled to see him so happy and reached out to run your finger down his cheek and along his jawline.

“I love you,” he said. “And I’d love to wake up next to your happy little heart forever.” You covered your face at his confession and sobbed with joy. He wrapped himself around you, and gently kissed the top of your head.

The afternoon went pretty much the same as the morning, you and Bucky wrapped tightly around one another, electricity crackling through the room until Steve came and pounded on the door.

“Can you two cut it out!? The whole compound is going bonkers!” He exclaimed.

Bucky leapt off the bed and you managed to figure out what he was doing and cover up just in time. Bucky whipped open the door and stood there stark naked in all his glory.

“Gotcha all wound up, Cap?” Bucky asked smirking. Steve just pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Mission briefing in 10 minutes,” he said completely exasperated. “You too, Y/N.”

“You got it Cap!” You said, saluting from the bed. Steve let out another heavy sigh and walked away.

Bucky closed the door and the two of you burst into laughter.

10 minutes later found you and Bucky walking down the hall hand in hand. You glanced down at your intertwined fingers and your heart did a happy dance. Bucky looked at you and smiled, stopping mid stride to kiss you. Soon you were pressed up against the wall, lost in each other’s love. Steve poked his head out of the door and shouted,

“Would you two give it a rest! Everyone’s waiting, come on.” You broke apart in a fit of giggles and quickly followed Steve into the briefing room. Steve stood at the front of the room glaring at you and Bucky and you quickly settled down adopting serious, professional faces.

“First a round of applause for the happy couple. We’re all so glad it finally happened,” Steve said clapping along with the rest of the group. “Second, you two are only allowed to do it at night. People were jumping each other in the hallways and we had to go to the backup generators.” You groaned and hid your face in embarrassment while Bucky roared with laughter.

“Very funny, yes,” Steve said rolling his eyes. You could tell he was actually quite happy for you and his best friend. “Now, we’ve got a mission,” he said. His tone was serious and Bucky, who was still shaking with laughter, sobered up immediately.

“Y/N, your father is here, in a little known South African rainforest on the outskirts of Nelspruit. Very remote, very hard to get in unseen. It’s going to require a two day ride down the Crocodile River. And yes, it’s appropriately named so stay in the boat. From what we can tell on satellite the base is fully loaded with 100 agents. And since human experimentation is the name of the game there will be hostages. We’re bringing in some extra fire power for this one. I feel confident we can take the base, save the hostages, and bring down Dr. Y/L/N. Y/N your job, along with Bucky, is to find your father, subdue him with your powers, and capture him alive. Alright?” He asked glancing around the room, his eyes landed on you. You nodded firmly, your mouth too dry to speak. “Ok, we leave in 20 minutes. Suit up.” He finished with a nod.

“I don’t have a suit,” you muttered under your breath to Bucky. Your nerves were affray and he could feel it.

“Yes you do,” Tony Stark said as he came striding into the room carrying a large silver suitcase. You jumped up in surprise and Tony stuck out his hand in greeting. You took his hand and shook it feeling a bit stunned.

“Quick, what am I thinking,” he asked.

“It would be rude to say,” you replied with a smirk. You and Tony were definitely going to get along.

“Hey Tinman,” Tony said peeking around you at Bucky, who jerked his head up in greeting.

“Why am I Tinman if you’re the one in the can?” Bucky asked sharply.

“Good question, good question. I’ve got one for you, what the hell did the two of you do to my power grid?” Tony asked with his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, I have some questions about that myself,” you said awkwardly.

“Those question would be better directed to the good doctor,” Tony said, jerking his head toward the man walking through the door who you immediately recognized as Bruce Banner. He looked nervous as he conversed with the demi-god who followed him.

“Or maybe Thor would know. Ask one of them, please don’t make me answer any sex questions involving Barnes.” You nodded, your cheeks glowing pink. Your first conversation with Tony Stark and you were casually chatting about your sex life.

“What’s in the case,” Bucky asked, feeling your embarrassment and changing the subject.

“Glad you asked,” Tony said hoisting the case onto to table in front of you. He offered his thumbprint and clicked the latches and the case sprang open revealing a sleek suit made with black fabric arrayed with black throwing stars. You stared in wonder.

“Now, I understand that, aside from being a super solider, you’re also combat trained?” Tony questioned.

‘I’m shield trained. I’m no Black Widow but I can take down your bog standard Hydra goon,” you replied, your eyes still focused on the deadly point of one of the throwing stars. “How’d you know?” you asked tearing your eyes away from the gleaming metal and fixing Tony with a stare just as sharp.

“Tip from a mutual friend,” he answered.

“Fury,” you muttered.

“Throwing stars, huh?” Bucky asked glancing up at you. You simply nodded and let Tony do the talking, which he seemed very happy to do.

“Y/N is about as good with a throwing star as you are with a knife, is that right? She’s been training with them since she was a teenager,” Tony explained.

“It’s true,” you answered searching Bucky for his thoughts on the matter. He seemed relieved to find you had some battle skills and wouldn’t be walking into this mission unprepared.

“Well the stars are carbon fiber steel. The suit is a bit more high tech. It’s micro mesh kevlar, strongest stuff out there save vibranium. And its woven with a living polymer that will heighten and focus your abilities. Be careful, you’re going to be a lot stronger than you’re used to.” You glanced up at Tony who held your gaze. “Don’t let your emotions run away with you, we want your father alive.” You nodded in understanding.

“Alright. Like the old man said, suit up.”

TAGLIST:

@saiyanprincessswanie @emmabarnes @sirenphrynne @starlightcrystalline @alexakeyloveloki @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @pspice639 @thejupe89 @xpurpleglitter @capsgrl @nacho-bucky​ @redbarn1995​ @maybe-a-marvel​ @toe-vind-ek-jou​ @ellefran​ @ginger-swag-rapunzel​ 

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #empath!reader #bucky x empath!reader

[puppetsoftomorrow]

the avalance news reader au

hey who said peer pressure doesn't work. anyway i made this post and y'all seemed to like it so here we go!! might post to ao3 later on idk...

It had been a truly terrible day.

Ava considered, in the moment that her coffee machine spluttered coughed up coffee grounds over her last clean shirt, that maybe she'd just had a truly terrible year. All her dreams about finally moving to television after being stuck in the doldrums of local news media for six years had been slashed when she'd been placed on the graveyard shift - sure, Ava was finally reading the news, but her shift was from 1AM until 4AM, so her only audience was long-distance truck drivers and new parents.

Still, she persevered, with the slightly foolish belief that if she worked hard enough, she could be promoted to a primetime slot. Or at least a slot that didn't require her to be making coffee at 10:45PM.

Her day had started off badly - she'd barely slept, as the sound from the construction work three blocks away rattled her windows, and she’d woken to find that her cat, Merlin, had kicked his litter halfway across the house in a fit of pique. Ava couldn't even have her normal oatmeal, as she was out of oat milk, and now she was having to drink her coffee black.

After changing her shirt to a dark dress and grimacing as she choked down the coffee, there was a knock on the door, and Ava groaned as she realised she was running late.

"Hey, Sara." She sighed.

Sara stood in the doorway, hair wavy over her shoulders, hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie - the same grey hoodie she wore every day, branded with their news station's logo.

"Woah, a dress?" Sara said, eyebrows raised appreciatively, as Ava grabbed her coat and bag and they moved to go down the stairs.

"Don't mention it." Ava grumbled, pulling the coat around her shoulders.

"It looks good on you." Sara said, and Ava shot her a look. Sara mimed zipping her lips. "Do we have to time for Starbucks? I had to have black coffee; my mouth tastes like something died in it." Ava muttered, and Sara shrugged.

"I mean, we've arrived half an hour early for every shift for the past year -"

"Do you want to go back to taking the bus?" Ava said, looking over at her as they reached the lobby. They'd discovered they lived in the same building almost accidentally in Ava's first week, awkwardly meeting across the hall in the early morning, until Sara had realised that Ava had a car and they'd started riding in together.

"Fine, if you're happy with having bad angles." Sara said, holding the door open for her, and Ava rolled her eyes.

"Are you saying I have bad angles?"

"Oh, I'll find one." Sara muttered, and Ava snorted with laughter and unlocked the car. One of the benefits to giving her camera operator a ride every day was always having excellent angles.

After a stop at Starbucks, Ava rolled along the dark, quiet roads, sighing deeply.

"What's up?" Sara asked, sipping her drink - black coffee, which she somehow enjoyed.

"Nothing." Ava muttered, but it only took one look at Sara for her to come out with the story of her crappy day. Sara laughed.

"So that's why you're wearing the dress."

"That's what you're focusing on?" Ava said, focusing on the road with a small smile on her face. "I have to go back to my apartment at 5AM and clean up kitty litter and coffee grounds."

"Not to mention getting coffee out of your shirt." Sara snorted, and Ava groaned, loud and over the top.

///

They always split when they got to the studio, Ava marching off to make-up to get ready, and Sara taking the elevator to the studio floor to set up her camera. The studio was always dead past midnight, just a skeleton crew left, which Sara found she enjoyed - it was easier to know everyone that way. She waved at Nate, distracting him from where he was running through the weather, muttering under his breath and checking his perfectly coiffed hair in the camera. He waved back, a bright smile on his face.

Careful not to trip over any of the wires on the floor, Sara made her way up to the box above the studio, the cramped room filled from head to toe with blinking lights and buttons, with a large window so they could look down on the studio. The techs – Behrad and Charlie - were sat with headphones on, running through sound checks, so Sara just waved to them as she found who she was looking for.

Zari, the studio runner, was running through her clipboard, muttering under her breath. When she saw Sara coming, she rolled her eyes. "Back again?"

"What have you got for her today?" Sara asked, keeping her voice nonchalant.

"The usual. Some city councilor has been embezzling funds, Star City is readying to bid for the 2028 Olympics, and former mayor Queen is opening a patisserie down-town. It's been a quiet week."

"Exactly." Sara said, her grin widening. "You've got to add the cat one."

Ray, their head writer, had found a story a week ago about a fat cat attending the Star City pet spa to lose weight, and Sara had been tracking down clips of the poor thing, bribing the editor, Nora, to pull them together. She'd even written a script. Zari looked at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Seriously?"

"Yes! I have a bet going with Mick - if I can get Ava to break on camera by the end of the month, he's got to give me $50." Sara said. It was ridiculous, she'd started the bet - truthfully, she found it endearing how Ava read the news with the same abject sternness whether she was covering a political scandal or a dog who'd learnt to surf in Star City Bay. She'd only broken her composure once - a smile creeping on her face when reporting on the 5th birthday of a crocodile at Star City Zoo named Snaps. From that day on, Sara had vowed to make her laugh, properly, live on air.

"I don't have any time to make up." Zari said, and Sara sighed.

"Yeah, but you know Ava reads quick enough. Please? For me?"

Zari seemed immune to the puppy eyes, so Sara sighed. "And I'll give you $20."

Zari snorted. "Do you have $20?"

"I'll have $50 when I win the bet." Sara countered, and Zari sighed.

"Fine. I'll see what I can do."

"Z, you're the best." Sara said with a grin, and turned to return to the studio floor.

///

The program went smoothly, like always. Sara liked her job, the focus of filming and the pride she got when she saw her own work on TV, but she liked it better when she was filming Ava, who had pretty much insisted from day one that Sara be her primary operator.

Ava looked especially pretty today, someone in make-up evidently having convinced her that she didn't need the bun today, and instead curled her hair over both shoulders, which didn't completely cover Ava's defined arms, visible in her sleeveless dress.

The night ran the same as most others, Ava transitioning smoothly between topics and engaging in light, courteous banter with Nate before he presented the weather. Sara looked at Ava during these moments, the five minutes she was off camera, where she looked down at her notes, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

Okay, so maybe Sara wanted to make Ava laugh because she looked so pretty doing it. Sue her.

They were coming near the end, and Sara was losing hope that the story would be included, until she heard the segue.

"Now, in lighter news," Ava started, her eyebrows suddenly shooting up as she read the prompter. Sara grinned; Zari had obviously left this out of Ava's notes to inspire more of a reaction.

"Cats," Ava blurted out, steadying herself before continuing, "they're not normally known for their love of swimming, but one feline in Star City is hitting the water instead of the gym in a bid to lose weight. Mr. Snuggles -" Ava bit her lip as the pictures played on the monitor - a black and white cat in a life vest, looking absolutely terrified, and Sara grinned. "Mr. Snuggles is a thirteen-year-old cat who - dislikes the outdoors and other physical activities."

Sara's grin widened as Ava lost it, barely making it through her lines through her giggles. Her face was flushing pink and she bit her lip to try and compose herself. "But with encouragement from his owner -" Ava pressed on, trying to hold herself together, "Mr. Snuggles had lost one pound in six months."

That was the final straw, as Ava descended into a full-on laugh, barely making it through her sign off. Sara was so distracted by the sound she nearly missed Zari's voice in her ear. "Camera 1 to Camera 3 in 3, 2, 1 -"

Sara switched off, but not before Ava snorted, flushing even deeper and covering her face with her hands at the sound, not disguised by the jingle from the lottery numbers playing across the screen.

///

Ava had bolted from the set, and Sara packed up her equipment as quickly as possible, ducking out just in time to catch Ava as she walked down the corridor to the lobby. Her face was now free of make-up, her hair tied up in a messy bun, but she was still in the dress that left Sara's mouth a little dry. She looked at Sara, blushing again.

"I can't believe you did that." She groaned, and Sara put on her most innocent face on.

"Did what?"

"Bribed Zari to put the cat story in! John in make-up said that Charlie had told him that you'd bribed Zari."

"To win $50!" Sara said, grinning. "And you have a really cute laugh."

Ava looked up; eyebrow furrowed. "Really?"

"Yep." Sara said, trying to play it cool. "Look, do you want half? I feel bad now."

Ava sighed. "No, it's okay."

"I could buy you dinner." Sara said, almost blurting it out, and Ava looked at her. "To make up for it."

Ava's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Uh - yeah, okay. I can do dinner."

~the end~

okay so this was fun to write and i kind of want to write more so uhh send me where u think this story should go. or ideas for a part 2 maybe. thanks for reading!!

#phoebe lifeblogs #avalance #legends of tomorrow #my writing #this is almost Too cute lmao

[alirhi]

random story snippet

@goblin-tea this is part of that story I was talking about/sending you bits of. I'll get into the better stuff (imo) in a bit, but this is a much better example of what the main characters are like than what I sent earlier lol

“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto,” she mumbled, still clinging to Audrey’s hand as she nervously followed Fiona’s example and took a moment to study the immediate area.

“No shit, Sherlock,” the blonde growled, yanking her hand away. Rebecca could stand there like an idiot if she chose, but damn it! She was going to explore and find a way home, right now. Clearly, her friend’s oh-so-brilliant spell had backfired quite horribly, and now they were lost, with no idea of where they were, when they were, or what was going…

Her thoughts were jarringly interrupted when Rebecca suddenly let out a short, high-pitched scream, causing both of her friends to jump.

“WHAT?!” Spinning to face the taller woman, she took a deep breath in preparation to chew her out, and then promptly hid behind her. “…Is that a dinosaur?”

“Deinonychus,” Rebecca confirmed in a reverent whisper. Her screech had been from excitement, rather than fear; the giant grin on her freckled face was evidence enough of that. Though she knew she was the only one who cared about the details, she still explained in a rush, “Fast, smart, and very deadly carnivore from the late Cretaceous period, probably the basis for the oversized velociraptors in Jurassic Park… A raptor’s colorful feathers make it look like a ridiculous, disproportionate toucan, which is probably why the producers chose to make it look more like our friend here. Fossils of the deinonychus have never been found with any indication of feathers.”

“It does have feathers, you walking Wiki!” Audrey hissed, stepping back. No way in hell was she going to stand there like an idiot and get eaten by some parrot on crack.

Fiona remained rooted in place beside the other redhead, though she did stoop to pick up Rebecca's forgotten staff, just in case the curious animal decided to attack. A tiny smile played at the edges of her lips at the toucan comparison. It did sort of look like one, in a weird way…

Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat, their nerdy friend nodded. “Yeah… Most of this type of dinosaur did, so paleontologists kinda figured the deinonychus would, too.”

The prehistoric bird of prey studied them, almost seeming to ponder something. Just as Rebecca was about to make a Philosoraptor joke, the fascinating – if deadly – beast twitched, letting out a series of loud clicking noises.

“…Huh. Whaddaya know. That dude on youtube was right…” An answering call echoed from somewhere to the left of the three shivering girls, and startled the amateur paleontologist out of her daze. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Both of her friends shot her nervous glances, reluctant to take their eyes off of the giant predator. Why wasn’t it moving?

“Run.” When Fiona shot her an incredulous look, Rebecca shook her head. Normally, yes, she would caution against any sudden moves around a wild animal, but this was different. More clicks from their right, answered by the one animal they could see, illustrated why. “He’s calling in reinforcements – run!”

That was all the motivation the shivering blonde needed. With a terrified shriek, Audrey turned and bolted into the forest, Rebecca and Fiona hot on her heels.

“I think it’s safe to assume,” the oldest woman gasped out, jumping over a fallen tree limb, “that we’ve somehow been sent back too far.”

“Ya THINK?!”

"Now's not the time to get snippy!” Her lungs were burning, her legs cramping, and though she could hear the creature gaining on them, she had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t putting forth much effort. She and her surrogate sister were both overweight to the point of obesity, and as such, speed wasn’t exactly on their side. In fact, it had been one of the things they’d hoped to go back and change; if they never got fat, they wouldn’t have to deal with the health problems associated with it or the hassle of constantly trying and failing to lose it.

Risking a glance to the side, she noticed Fiona keeping pace with them, and winced. She was hanging back to help them, she knew. By far the skinniest and healthiest of the three of them, she was lightning fast compared to the other two. While both her companions were morbidly obese, Fiona was lithe and fit, with legs like a gazelle. She was going slowly so she could defend them with that big stick if she had to. That was the only logical explanation Rebecca could come up with. The fact that the 'big stick' was her own walking stick was momentarily lost on the eldest of the three.

Mother above, she prayed desperately, if there’s even a trace of magic left in my blood, please, please unleash it now to give us speed.

Too angry and frightened to bother with logic, Audrey just rolled her eyes, yelping when it caused her to trip over a rock and nearly sent her sprawling. Fiona caught her by the arm and helped her steady herself, and she managed a tiny grateful smile, even as she snapped at the redhead, “Shut up! It’s your fault that we’re in our own personal Jurassic Hell, being chased by a fucking raptor!”

“Cretaceous!” Rebecca snarled, dodging around a rather intimidating thorny bush. “And it’s not a raptor, it’s-”

“I DON’T CARE!”

“It’s actually quite fascinating,” Rebecca asserted through wheezing gasps for breath, “if you think about it. We finally… get to see… proof… that dino…saurs… were more like…flightless…birds…than…”

“I don’t give a shit if we’re being chased by an ostrich or a crocodile!” Audrey screeched before her friend could finish. “If I end up something’s lunch, it’s your fault! And you know what? Fuck you! Fuck your stupid spell. Fuck your obsessions. Fuck your fucking imaginary friend and the horse you both rode in on for good measure!” Even in a life-or-death situation, somehow an old inside joke popped into her head, and she managed to suck in a deep enough breath to scream, "AND YES, HE'S NAMED 'SIDEWAYS'!"

“Guys, this really isn’t the time to be arguing,” Fiona pointed out as calmly as she could, glancing over her shoulder to see how they were faring. It wasn't good. She could deal with Audrey and her rather offensive temper tantrum later, she decided; escaping the turkey-sized ball of feathers and teeth chasing them took precedence.

“Sorry…” Pouting a little, the blonde risked a glance back, and nearly wet herself when she saw that their prehistoric pursuer was getting closer and closer. “Oh, fuck me…” Something brushed the side of her head, and she jumped, but it was only a leaf hanging down from another large tree.

Wait. Leaf…tree… She glanced up, relieved to see that the branch was low enough for her to grab hold. Circling around so that she wouldn’t get caught by their feathered menace, she pushed herself just a little bit more and managed to haul herself up onto the branch. “Guys!”

“What are you doing?!” Rebecca cried, having been too focused on running to notice where Audrey had gone. Fiona had been taking up the rear, focus switching between the others and the predator, but had been looking primarily in the latter’s direction for a few minutes. When she turned and saw only Rebecca standing there, she froze and glanced around. As they spotted Audrey in the tree, they also became aware of the fact that their enemy seemed a lot closer than before.

“Can raptors climb?” Audrey called out, wincing as she watched the scene unfold. Though she had long legs and strong, muscular calves, Rebecca outweighed her by a good fifty pounds, and it was visibly taking its toll. She was tiring, and the blonde just prayed she could pull herself up to safety before that thing or its as-yet unseen companions ripped her apart. She had plenty of reasons not to worry too much about Fiona.

“Come on.” Urging her tiring friend on, the skinnier redhead decided to take at least this one cue from Audrey and circled around the trunk of a massive tree, making sure Rebecca followed. It confused their attacker, bought them a little time, and kept them from getting out of earshot of Audrey.

At her friend’s soft, gentle reminder of what she’d been asked, Rebecca frowned. She wanted to remind the treed woman that they weren’t being chased by a velociraptor, but dismissed it as a waste of time. Instead, she considered her question as she doubled back.

Could this breed of dinosaurs climb? “I…I’m not sure,” she panted, one hand coming up to press against her chest. “I don’t think so. Their arms are probably too small to pull them up.”

“Then get your ass up here!”

They reached the tree, and Fiona quickly jumped up like it was nothing, setting the staff aside and braced across two nearby branches to keep it from falling. She and Audrey then each stretched out an arm, hands extended to grab Rebecca’s and pull her up as the youngest of the three continued, “And pray Jurassic Park was wrong about more than just the raptor’s appearance, cuz here he comes, and if he brought friends, you’re toast!”

“It’s not a raptor!” Rebecca reached for their hands, though she harbored little hope that she could actually get her fat ass up there. With or without their help, in her mind, she was dead.

“Please note, you’re the only one who cares,” the other young woman grumbled, grasping her friend’s wrist and exerting every bit of strength she had left to pull her to safety. Rebecca had virtually no upper body strength, and without Audrey and Fiona, would never be able to make it up onto the branch, despite being taller than both of them.

She almost dropped the larger girl when she suddenly yelped. Fiona glared at her, trying to compensate by taking more of their friend’s weight until she got a better grip on her arm.

Still a bit startled, she searched Rebecca’s eyes for some sign of what the hell that had been about, and found only fear. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Pull me up! Pull me up!” Refusing to say anything else, she gritted her teeth and pushed with all her might, kicking all the while. What she knew the blonde couldn’t see from her perch was that the dinosaur had caught up to her while they both struggled, and had grabbed hold of her calf with its sharp claws. Suddenly, she was glad for the long leather boots that, only moments before, she’d been cursing.

As the creature went for Rebecca again, Fiona grabbed the staff and whacked it as hard as she could over the head. It turned on her for a moment, but before it could do anything, Rebecca kicked it in the face. Taking advantage of the opportunity she’d just created, she stood on the hungry animal’s head and pushed off. At last, she was seated on the rough limb, with the deinonychus just barely out of reach. Gasping desperately for air as she turned and clung to Audrey, she glanced down at the bewildered creature and managed a breathless “thanks!” The moment Rebecca was safely out of reach, Fiona crept along the branch and headed for a different one. The tree was old and strong, but the three of them in the same spot could easily snap the branch and send them right to the dinosaur’s clutches.

Once she settled on another perch, they sat there for a moment, contemplating their luck, both good and bad, and watching the hungry animal watch them. All three knew that with a little effort, the thing could probably reach the two on the lower branch with those lethal, powerful jaws. Since it had clearly not yet figured this out, none of them really cared. Audrey was exhausted and sore, the entirety of her plump body throbbing unbearably now that adrenaline had begun to flee her as she had fled the dinosaur. Fiona was desperately trying to get her breath back, and though she felt fine otherwise, she knew she’d feel like she’d been hit by a bus in the morning. Rebecca, too, was exhausted and sore, though the pain in her muscles and joints hadn’t yet registered. Her gaze shifted from the restless animal to the long jagged tears in the back of her skirt, which she studied with a sort of numb, detached fascination.

“Well,” she said finally, still scarcely able to breathe. “That was exhilarating.”

Fiona laughed.

“Exhilarating?” Audrey gaped at her. “Are you fucking kidding me? We just almost became something’s soon-to-be-fossilized lunch!”

Shrugging, Rebecca glanced down at the prehistoric lizard…bird…thing. And suddenly she felt pity for it, and all the living things around them. After a long silence, during which the deinonychus finally lost interest and stormed off in search of easier prey, she finally murmured, “We survived, didn’t we? That’s more than anything else in this time period can say.” Where were its companions? The question bubbled up out of nowhere, and once formed, refused to be dismissed. She'd heard it call to someone, and heard an answer... Or had she? Had she imagined it all?

“We don’t belong in this time period!” Audrey's reply startled her out of her confused reverie. Her voice was shrill, expression aghast as she stared at the other woman as if she’d lost her mind. Perhaps that was obvious. For a second, she considered that maybe shehad gone mad, and this whole nightmarish situation was just a scene playing out in her ever-overactive imagination.

Then she shifted, and the ankle she’d twisted when she tripped on a rock sent a twinge of pain up her leg. The idea of any of this being anything less than horribly, undeniably real was scrapped, and she glanced around. She would merely search for makeshift supplies, she decided. She would rewrite Rebecca’s stupid spell, and get them back to the present. If this experience was meant to teach them anything, she was sure it was that the past can’t be changed, which she was suddenly ready to accept as Gospel truth. Life sucked, but they could make it better if they just focused less on whining about it, and more on actually doing something about it.

A strange weight on her mind drew her from her thoughts and she turned to look. Rebecca was staring at her.

Huffing a bit, she gestured to her shredded clothing. “That’s going to get infected. You’ll probably die before the week is out.”

“Thanks, Captain Optimism,” the other woman growled, rolling her eyes.

“We don’t have anything to wrap it with!” she snapped, interrupting her friend’s attempt to assure her that she was fine.

“I can rip something if you want,” Fiona offered, gesturing to her clothes.

“We have no idea what’s poisonous and what’s not,” Audrey continued to rant as if the other young woman hadn’t spoken, “We’re about sixty-five million years away from peroxide, never mind penicillin. And all of this is assuming you just get some kind of nasty infection. Every carnivore with at least one nostril can probably smell all that blood for miles. If we don’t get the hell back to modern times, you are going to die!”

To shut her up, Rebecca sighed and reached down, shoving her torn skirt out of the way to show the long scratches across her boot. She could see them alright through the slashes in her skirt, but clearly Audrey was less observant. “I’m not bleeding, genius. He was aiming to grab, not gut; he didn’t get through the leather.” She gestured, but wasn’t the least bit surprised when Audrey only shook her head and looked away.

“I’m just worried about you,” she whispered, much more subdued as the fight slowly drained from her. “You got lucky this time, but as long as we stay here, we’re in danger every second, from everything.”

As if only just then remembering that Fiona was there, she whipped around and stared up over her shoulder at her. "And how the hell are you still corporeal? How were you ever in the first place? I mean, nice to meet you, I guess? But what the actual fuck is going on?!"

#claddagh #original writing #crossroads series