#And I know you can help him quit or whatever but the smell of cigarette smoke is the worst smell on the planet. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wlntrsldler · 3 months

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poisoned mercury | end up here

a/n: i'm going FERALLLLLLL over this chapter. enjoy poisoned mercury's debut album hehe.

iv. end up here by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

“your band name doesn’t even make any sense,” you argued, eyes narrowing at the boy in front of you.

luke crashed your secret spot, again, and refused to let you smoke in silence until you gave him a detailed explanation of how your day went. he knew you didn’t smoke every day, only on days that were particularly hard. he noticed that your bad days always had something to do with your dad, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to bring that up.

anyway, you got fed up with his badgering and that stupid smirk on his face because he knew you were about to crack, and decided that if he was going to act like a toddler, you would too. hence, why you were now bringing up his band name.

luke took offense to that because he thought the band name was cool. he was the one to suggest it. he crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to let his hurt show on his face, “what do you mean? poisoned mercury is a sick name.”

“mercury is already poisonous. your band name is like redundant or some shit.”

“then why did so many people in history ingest it?” luke asked, recalling the one thing he remembered from his high school history class before he dropped out. he took a drag from his cigarette, turning his body a bit so the wind didn’t blow the smoke directly in your face.

“they fucking died, castellan,” you replied, deadpan.

“oh,” he blinked, staring off, “i didn’t know that.”

you rolled your eyes, a habit that you’ve picked up whenever you were with him and sat back down on the bench. luke joined you, silent as he thought about what you just said. he really needed to stop zoning out during lessons, but since he was already out of high school, he guessed it didn’t matter anymore.

as much as you hate to admit it, luke castellan was growing on you. sure, he got on your nerves like nobody else– the boy just doesn’t quit– but, he wasn’t half as bad as you originally thought. not that you’d ever tell him that though.

when you got back to the cabin last week after helping with concert prep, the cabin was spotless. there were no empty red bull cans in sight, the table tops were free of crumbs, floor vacuumed and mopped, and there was even a candle burning on the counter. you approached your bedroom door to find a post-it on the handle. luke’s messy writing was smudged around the corners, but you could still make out what it said.

“five star,

i snitched on the boys and my mom will have a stern talk with them about their cleanliness. can’t promise that people will stop talking about me, but i can promise you won’t have to live in the dojo casa house mojo or whatever it was.

ps i’m using the spot tomorrow, just thought i should let you know. maybe we can set up a calendar for reservations.

luke :)”

the cabin hasn’t been as messy since. whatever may castellan told the boys worked like a charm. there was still the occasional trash, but nothing crazy. it smelled better in the cabin too, still like a boy, but it smelled like expensive cologne more than anything. cedarwood and pine.

and thankfully, the luke castellan hype train was starting to run out of steam, with many people finally realizing that he was also just a human being and the surprising revelation that luke castellan was not entertaining anyone during his time at camp helped with it as well. you still heard whispers about him here and there, but you were glad the topic of conversation was beginning to switch to something else.

you and luke walked to the gym and back home every morning together. he and the boys sat with you and clarisse during meals. they tagged along for music lessons and spoke to the kids, which they really appreciated. they helped the older campers with writing music, luke particularly. you’d been around a few musicians in your life and many of them only kissed ass when your dad was around, but poisoned mercury was different. they were passionate about their music. that was clear.

after a conversation with clarisse, where she managed to convince you that not all musicians are like your ex, you began to let loose a little bit. you hung out with the boys more, partly as an excuse so clarisse could hang out with chris without causing too much suspicion, and found that you actually enjoyed their company. and luke castellan? well, he wasn’t half bad. that doesn’t mean he got off easy though.

you took a hit of your vape, facing him, “are you done interrogating me?”

“for now, yeah,” he smiled as you shook your head. “are you coming to the concert tonight?”

“well, i did help organize it.”

“a simple yes would’ve sufficed, five star,” luke teased, relighting his cigarette. it was burning unevenly and luke was never one to waste his cigarettes. “you gonna watch us play?”

“don’t have a choice. dad wants me there the whole time.”

“you can act a little excited,” luke ran a hand through his curls, “we are pretty good, you know.”

“i know,” you hummed. the sun was beginning to set and there was a slight breeze in the air. goosebumps formed on your skin, the t-shirt and denim shorts you wore didn’t offer much comfort. you shivered, “i have listened to your music.”

“are you cold?”

your teeth chattered, but you shook your head, “i’m fine.”

luke took off his hoodie, tossing it in your direction, “take it.”

“no,” you tossed it back to him, “told you i’m good.”

always so stubborn, luke thought.

“if you catch a cold, that’s not on me,” he placed the hoodie on the bench between the two of you. “which songs have you listened to?”

“kilby girl, of course. it played on the radio so much when you guys first dropped it,” you said, remembering the days where you and your hometown friends would blast it in the car. it reminded you of high school, reckless decisions, life-long memories, and the thrill of knowing you were going to be playing the sport you’d worked so hard to excel in at a d1 level in the fall. you looked at him, sincerity in your eyes, “i really like family line. it might be my favorite.”

luke’s eyebrows shot up. not many people talked about family line. it was probably their least streamed song. they never performed the song on tour because it was difficult for luke to sing it. it was a personal song to him. it was inspired by his relationship with his father, or lack thereof.

when poisoned mercury first got signed to olympus records, luke sent a message to his dad on facebook. luke hadn’t tried to contact him since he was ten, not since his father returned his letter to him unopened, no response but a “return to sender” stamp plastered over the envelope. but after the small congratulatory party his mom set up for the band after they signed, luke felt like a little kid again, a kid who wanted to share the great news with his dad, so he found his dad on facebook, made an account, and sent him a message.

he didn’t get a reply, which was expected, but it felt good for a second to pretend that he had a father to tell his good news to. luke thought he didn’t care about whether or not his dad was proud of him, but when his message went from “sent” to “read” a few days later, he was brought back to those moments in his life when he cried and wondered why he wasn’t enough to make his dad stay. he wrote family line in one sitting, on his bed in his bedroom in connecticut, looking at the little league medals on his wall that seemed to mock him.

he originally didn’t want it on the album because he felt like it didn’t fit the vibe of the rest of the songs and that it was too real, too vulnerable for a debut album, but then he played it for his mom and she loved it. she cried when she first heard it and luke knew that even if people didn’t like the song, he was going to put it out for his mom.

“huh,” he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, “wasn’t expecting that one. thought you’d be more of a crash my car type of girl.”

“i like that too,” you shrugged, “but family line. that song. i don’t think i have the words to describe it.”

“thanks, five star,” luke looked down at his feet, taking a puff from his dying cigarette. “that’s my mom’s favorite, too.”

“did you write it?”

luke nodded, looking to face you. there was a new expression on your face, one that you’d never used with him before. it was a mix of disbelief and awe. he tried not to get offended that you didn’t think he could write something like family line, but he couldn’t blame you. he didn’t really portray the type of person who would be able to be that raw and vulnerable on a song. “me and trav write the lyrics for our songs, mostly. chris and connor help too, but the bulk of the lyrics are me.”

“you need to stop doing that.”

he cocked his head to the side, crushing the cigarette butt on the hardware of the bench, “doing what?”

“surprising me,” you shook your head, “i don’t like it.”

“i don’t know what to tell you,” he chuckled, leaning back on the bench. he looked out into the lake, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains, “i have layers. you just gotta give me a chance.”

“how do you do it?” you sat criss cross on the bench, leaning against the arm rest. “how do you write like that?”

you’d always been curious about music, even if you weren’t good at it. your dad was never one to answer your questions, especially because you were interested in lyrics more than anything, and that wasn’t his forte.

luke mimicked your actions, “i dunno. personal experience, i guess?”

you frowned, thinking about the lyrics of family line. luke never talked about his dad, but spoke highly of his mom. was family line based on his own life? if it was, his dad was an asshole.

you relented to the cold, grabbing the hoodie that he left in between the two of you. you ignored the triumphant smile on his face when you draped the sweater over your bare legs, shielding them from the wind chills.

he continued, “sometimes things happen to me that get me worked up and i have to write a song about it. sometimes, it’s based on my imagination. it depends.”

you wanted to ask him about his dad, but you didn’t know if he considered you guys friends yet. it’s not like you made it easy for him anyway. you could deal with the banters and annoyance, but you didn’t want to push him to talk about something he wasn’t ready to. you could be a dick, but you weren’t cruel.

you changed the subject, “okay, let’s play a game.”

“21 questions?” luke bit his bottom lip, trying not to laugh. he waggled his eyebrows, dodging your arm that reached out to smack him.

“you’re gross,” you gagged, knowing the implications of the game, “no, i’m gonna ask about the songs on your album and you tell me if it’s real life or from your imagination.”

“alright, go for it five star,” he beamed, propping his elbows on his crossed knees. he loved talking about music with anyone. he could go on and on for hours.

“18.”

“real,” luke snorted, remembering the first time travis pitched the idea for the song to the band, “but not my experience. it was trav. he met this girl at one of our gigs in new york, right after we got signed, and he was obsessed. she was a freshman at nyu and she kept telling him he was too young for her, even though she was just less than a year older. trav was hooked.”

you could picture it. it was definitely something travis would do. “okay, another one of my favorites. only angel?”

“not real,” luke shook his head, a slight blush creeping up on his face. “if you tell anyone, five star, i will vehemently deny it, but i had a crush on jade west from victorious and i wrote it about her.”

there was something about jade west that made luke like a love-sick puppy. ignoring the fact that she was hot, her attitude was something that luke was attracted to. she had a tough exterior and acted like she didn’t care about people, but she had her moments where she was soft and kind to the people she cared about the most. luke liked that. the idea that someone could be sensitive but only to the people they deemed worthy.

he’d spent so much of his life trying to be worthy, in whatever way the stage of his life defined it, and he craved it– a pat on the back, an approval, a confirmation that he was worthy of it.

you threw your head back laughing, surprised by his ridiculous confession. the sound of your laughter rang across the woods, making luke smile. your voice echoed throughout the trees and he his senses were surrounded by you. it hit luke like a truck.

he sucked in a breath, taking out his phone. he jolted from his seat for more than one reason. “shit, five star. we gotta go.”

you took out your phone too, checking the time. your eyes widened as you got up from your seat. you threw his hoodie over to him, “fuck, we’re late.”

the two of you raced out of the woods, arriving to the concert venue with flushed faces and rapid breaths. you could feel clarisse’s knowing eyes on you as you got ready for the concert. you tried your best to ignore it. you were going to deal with that later.

–

“and for the final event, i know you guys are looking forward to this one,” your dad laughed into the mic. the sun was long gone and there were disco lights illuminating the stage. a smoke machine was on either corner, making it difficult to see the bottom half of the stage. you and clarisse stood in the front row, listening to the deafening cheers of the campers. “ladies and gents, welcome poisoned mercury!”

the screams got louder which you didn’t even know was possible. travis entered the stage first, sticking his tongue out as he expertly twirled his drumsticks around his fingers. connor came in next, smiling and waving at the crowd as he plugged his guitar into the amp. chris walked in with his bass strapped around his neck, eyes immediately finding clarisse and sending her a shy smile. you nudged her teasingly, enjoying the way she blushed under the lights.

then luke castellan walked in. he ditched his hoodie and t-shirt and walked in with a white tank top on, messing with the curls on his head. he tugged on the silver necklace around his neck as his eyes scanned the crowd. he threw a wink to the group of the older girls in the back, turning to travis to let out a laugh at their reaction. the lights on the boys were blinding and a thin layer of sweat already began to form on their skin despite the bite to the air.

luke took center stage, picking up his guitar. he leaned over directly in front of you, fingers pretending to mess with the wires connecting his guitar to the speakers, “hey, five star.”

he straightened his back before you could reply. clarisse’s eyes darted between you and the boy, now nudging you like you did to her earlier. you rolled your eyes, smiling at the rest of the boys as luke began talking on the mic.

“what’s up, camp half blood?” luke screamed into the mic. the crowd roared. “we’re poisoned mercury and we are so happy to be with you guys here this summer. before we close out this awesome concert, i wanna introduce our lovely band.”

“on drums, we have the one and only, travis stoll!” luke turned around to applaud travis as he did a little drum solo, head banging as he hit the drums. he turned to connor, “on lead guitar, we have the amazing connor stoll!”

connor strummed his guitar, leaning over on the left side to soak in the applause of the crowd. the girls beside you swooned as he unleashed one of his award-winning smiles.

luke faced chris, “and on bass, we have my very best friend in the entire world, my 4lifer, chris rodriguez!” clarisse cheered loudly for chris as he played a tune on his bass, mouthing, “love you, brother,” to luke as he played. the crowd quited for a second as luke addressed them again, “and my name is luke castellan. we’re poisoned mercury!”

you turned around to look at the crowd. the size of the crowd tripled when the boys got on stage. everyone had a smile on their face, excited to hear them play.

“the song we’ll be singing for you guys today is from our debut album,” luke adjusted his mic on the stand. he got closer to it, lips touching the metal, “this is only angel.”

you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at their song choice. this was not the song they were supposed to sing. they’d been rehearsing kilby girl for the past week. luke saw your reaction, laughing along with you.

the instrumentals began and you nearly missed the beat drop because of the cheers from the crowd. as the song progressed, the boys were one with the music. you watched luke sing, working the crowd like a pro. his skin glistened under the spotlight, beads of sweat tricking down the side of his face. he approached chris when the chorus started, dragging his mic stand with him. he swung his guitar around so it rested on his back as he sang the lyrics. his curls were sticking to his forehead, eyebrows raised in glee as he performed.

you couldn’t take your eyes off the lead singer, not even when the rest of the band had their own solos in the song. your eyes were glued on luke; how his adam’s apple was on full display as he threw his head back, getting lost in the music, how his arms flexed as he wrapped the mic cord around his fist, how his thin tank top stuck to his body and how it raised when he lifted his arm up to bring the mic closer to his lips. you saw the outline of his abdomen and his v-line.

but what really got you was his face. he looked at peace on stage, a wide smile on his face, full lips pink and glossy as he licked them in between verses. he looked incredible up there, like that was where he belonged. he was born to be on stage like this.

“fuck,” you mumbled, applauding at the end of their song. luke’s eyes found yours as he sang the last bit of the song, smiling at you. you hoped clarisse couldn’t hear you talk to yourself. you looked down at your feet, tugging nervously on the collar of your shirt, “i get it now.”

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke pjo #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson

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undeadcannibal · 10 months

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(Don’t know if this is considered sfw or not so slight warning?)

141 + Rudy with a gn!reader who’s an excessively heavy smoker. Constantly has some sort of cigarette or vape in their hand cause they go through really bad withdrawal - like shaking, headaches, cold sweats, insomnia that type of thing.

Summary: How Task Force 141 and Rudy would help a Reader who smokes heavily and sometimes deals with heavy withdrawal symptoms.

Genre: Headcanons, request(s) Characters featured: Soap, Gaz, Ghost, Price, and Rudy

Warnings: Mention(s) of smoking and withdrawal symptoms!

A/N: Hopefully you enjoy this, Anon! Apologies if this one’s rough, I’m posting it while I’m fresh out of work because I’m exhausted. OTL ( Gif credit: xxx )

Rudy―

My personal headcanon is Rudy wouldn't mind one bit being with someone who is a heavy smoker. I like to think he knows plenty of family members and friends who are heavy smokers as well, so he's well adjusted to second hand smoke, the smell, and pretty much anything else most would complain about.

Personally can't stand the smell of menthol and clove cigarettes though.

While he isn't a smoker himself, he finds himself keeping a pack of whatever you'd prefer to smoke just in case you forget or run out of your own.

He'll never admit it aloud, but he enjoys watching you smoke. Something about the sight of you exhaling big clouds of smoke allures him like nothing else.

Even if he doesn't smoke, he likes to join you whenever you go out to. He simply enjoys your presence.

Also will gladly help you through withdrawal if you begin to suffer from any symptoms since he realizes quitting isn't so easy.

Soap―

My personal headcanon is he's not huge on cigarettes or cigars, but will sneak a few hits of a vape, whoops.

Hates the taste of regular tobacco based flavors, strongly prefers the fruit-based or sweet-based types since they're the most pleasant for him. And probably the easiest for him to hit.

Personally believe that this man cannot hit blinkers, his hits are small and precise because he absolutely hates taking in too much and hacking up a lung as a result of coughing. Go easy on the guy, alright?

Is the type to hate the scent smoking leaves on clothes so probably won't tag along on a smoke break with you.

Although, I also like to picture him as a fresh newbie who gets invited along for a smoke and doesn't say no, even though he doesn't care for smoking. So, he ends up going along with it, smoking a cigarette with the others. Internally wants to toss it onto the floor and snub it out with his boot but decides to power through so he's not mocked for it.

Even if he doesn't smoke, if you've a decent vape he thinks he might enjoy, will ask for a hit or two.

Also will try and help as best he could if you end up dealing with terrible withdrawal symptoms. Tries anything and everything to help you out.

Gaz―

Isn't a smoker himself but is used to it from being around Price often, so when you're constantly toking on something you've in your hands, it doesn't bother him in the slightest.

Whatever it is you prefer, it doesn't bother him. If anything, he probably considers it less harsher than some of the cigars Price has smoked around him before.

Won't ask for hits of whatever you have but will tag along with you on a smoke break. Enjoys the company and likes the downtime to catch up or joke around together.

Eventually knows what you prefer and often keeps it on hand whenever he's around you just in case you ever need it.

Doesn't really know how to help with withdrawal symptoms, but he ends up researching plenty of things that may help you. Likes to discuss what you think might be the best method before forcing anything onto you.

If you end up having to deal with the symptoms, he's right there by your side, doing his best to comfort and help you in any way that he can.

Price―

He's right there with you. Personally, he struggles with quitting because dealing with withdrawal in the worst of places has made him secretly hate dealing with it. Often keeping both his and your favorites on hand at all times.

Will also happily tag along with you for smoke breaks.

He probably won't ask to take a drag of whatever you like but will happily allow you to take a drag of his cigar, if you'd like. Don't even get me started on his secret fascination of watching you smoke.

He knows he shouldn't be such a pervert about it, but he can't help but want to grab you by your jaw and shotgun smoke into your mouth with his own every time he sees you smoke. Hell, it's even gotten to the point he thinks about it more often than not whenever he's smoking alone too.

If you ever have to deal with the symptoms of withdrawal for whatever reason, he'll also do his best to help you through it however you see fit. Although, if you can't smoke for medical reasons - or you're trying to quit - he'll remain firm and refuse to give in and allow you to smoke for your own good.

Oh, and if you vape, I'm so sorry honey, he'll give you grief over it. Is one of those that sees vapes as some sort of ridiculous device.

Ghost―

IMO, he doesn't consider himself a heavy smoker, but does keep a pack on hand for you and him to share. Sometimes when the stress gets to be too much for him, he finds himself lighting up.

Even if he doesn't want to smoke, he'll happily keep you company during one of your smoke breaks.

However, much like Price, if you ever need to stop for medical or personal reasons, he's one of the best to keep you from breaking down. Will absolutely find any hidden stashes and get rid of them when you least expect it.

Often finds he enjoys the scent of your personal favorite brand, and over time, comes to associate it with solely you.

Does his best to help you deal with any withdrawal symptoms since he understands how they can be hard to deal with. He's seen Price struggle before and has some experience with helping him. He'll try and give some small tips here and there that may help you.

Also like Price, loves to give you shit for vaping, if that ends up being your preference. While he doesn't care all that much, he'll roll his eyes if you've a ridiculous flavor or type.

#call of duty x reader #task force 141 x reader #ghost x reader #john price x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #cod headcanons #headcanons #requests #anonymous #my writing

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sunboki · 1 year

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🎥 NEXT TUESDAY ┆ part one of "My Shirt"

boxer!lee minho x gn. reader

warnings — cursing

genre — boxer au, enemies to lovers, hinted strangers to lovers

word count — 1.2k

aug’s notes — got reminded of how leeknow used to do boxing, wanted to write something i might follow up on with a part two? this is kinda like a test product :)

“You should take a self defense class since you live alone now dear.”

No Mrs. Kathy, you don’t need a self defense class. You don’t want to go to a self defense class, and living alone does not make you a weak and vulnerable person. In fact, you’re thriving with your own company.

But that’s not what you said. Of course not, Mrs. Kathy was simply a nosy old woman doing her nosy old job, it felt pathetic to let her words get under your skin.

“I might do that! Thank you for the suggestion.” You lied, lips pulled into a tight smile.

As much as you would’ve preferred to disregard the interaction and proudly admit what she said was long forgotten, it wasn’t. Instead, it bugged and bugged. Until you simply couldn’t bear to repeat that god-forsaken phrase for the 100th time and had to confess.

“Don’t get me wrong, Mrs. Kathy is a nice woman but this is really, really getting to me.” You deflate, arms stretched out on the wooden table. Sitting across from you Chris, your coworker, cocks a brow. He’s impressed. It’s been a while since you’ve had an itch like this.

“Look at you, dealing with your first problem in the big scary adult world.” God, even if you went deaf you’d still hear the teasing in his voice.

Except you’re used to this, used to his antics despite the sweetness you know him for personally. Chris was an older brother to you, an undeniably attractive and charismatic brother that was being an ass at the moment.

You mutter a “I’ve been in the adult world” under your breath, assuming he heard the remark from the knowing smirk sent your way. Great help dude. You’re a savior.

“‘Just playing, I can hook you up.” There’s a certain lilt to his voice you can’t quite translate as he stares down at his drink, dissolving the salt covering the rim of his margarita into the cocktail.

“Hook me up? This isn’t arranging my marriage so I can make sure to get married before thirty asshole.” He scoffs at your bitterness, warm brown eyes flickering back at you with mischief glittering beneath hardly visible irises.

“I mean you wouldn’t be living alone anymore-OKAY okay. But on a serious note. I can arrange something. I have a friend. His name’s Minho, I think he’d be the perfect person to help you out.”

There’s that lilt in the voice again, and somehow, perhaps in the midst of your desperation, you agree.

2 pm, Tuesday. In front of the real sketchy looking building. You have to walk into the place and go down the stairs to your left, from there you’ll figure it out.

If GTA was real, you think one of the buildings would look like the one in front of you.

Graffiti covered the walls, and you couldn’t feel more out of place in the foreign downtown surroundings. Minho. His name was Minho. That’s all you need to remember. Oh, and the stairs to your left. That too.

When you first stepped in, you were pleasantly surprised to find the space not occupied with greasy men and the smell of cigarette smoke, but a diner. Light blue hues here and there, and dimmed lights placed above each booth. A few glances here and there, but the atmosphere wasn’t all too bad.

Almost immediately you caught sight of the stairs hidden in a far corner, your step forward increasing the sound of bass seeping through the walls—getting louder as you approached the door at the bottom. And whatever had earlier crossed your mind was now completely gone without a trace upon turning the knob.

Inside was a boxing ring. Not a self defense class or a gym, but a nicely sized room with a boxing ring on one side and punching bags scattered on the other. Even with the new surroundings, the revelation of what you’d gotten yourself into hadn’t quite registered yet. Especially not when the one man appearing to be around your age in the middle of the ring pulled off his helmet and boxing gloves and turned to face you.

He was painstakingly beautiful. Dyed grey hair tousled in bizarre directions due to the helmets jostling, dark chestnut eyes similar to that of Chris’ yet the strangers’ were more soulful.

“I think I came to the wrong place, sorry I’ll be leaving..” You hurriedly reach for the door before he speaks, effectively stopping you in your tracks.

“If you’re the one Chris mentioned you’re in the right place. Either come or go, don’t waste my time.”

Initially he seemed passive, his tone then distorting into impatience. To say his bluntness surprised you underestimated the situation. With these circumstances though you found yourself more enticed than offended.

“You really suck at introductions.” One step forward, one step closer to this stranger you had no idea about. He could’ve been a mass killer for all you knew. It didn’t matter right now because his attitude was the only thing determining your next move.

“Oh? Wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings sweetheart,”

He leaned forward, a conniving tilt of his head used to address you.

“Lee Minho. It’s a pleasure.”

One fact about Lee Minho. He has a shit-eating smile when he gets his way. It pisses you off.

“I could say the same.” You basically spat, watching him collect additional gear.

He threw the items your way, leading you into the ring. The more you considered it the funnier it became, realizing you were surely not dressed in proper boxing attire compared to this noticeable veteran.

“Ever boxed before?”

“Nope, I do want to beat that look off your face though.” His shit-eating smile returned, giving you a once over.

Opening his arms, it’s almost like he’s daring you to give it your all. Another part of Lee Minho that pisses you off. His arrogance.

Somehow, it’s kind of hot.

You wait for his move, dodging narrowly and attempting to land hits yourself till you notice a glove placed on your shoulder. Holding there, not going through with the move.

“There.”

“And there.” This cycle goes on, pointing out open spots. Your frustration bubbles furiously, blindly swinging before being swiped off your feet to pummel on the ground in exhaustion. Minho squats down from above you, index tapping your chest that causes you to squeak out in surprise.

“I’d recommend wearing a thicker shirt next time, but I don’t mind the view.” Embarrassingly enough, due to the sweat clinging to your skin your bra was very much visible through your shirt. The man only shrugging and hopping to his feet.

Wait.

“Next time?” Your lips pull at the corners, following not far behind him putting equipment away. He doesn’t reply, earning a satisfied hum from you. Bingo.

Out of nowhere, a t-shirt is thrown your direction.

“Put it on. You can give it to me next Tuesday. You better come back.”

You somewhat wish you would’ve said thank you of a sort, maybe bothered him about his red ears. Except all you did was wave a goodbye and watch him disappear upstairs. Apparently marking the end of this uniquely strange.. boxing class? Something like that.

. ..

FaceTiming Chris the next morning before work, you listened to him talk until the line quieted and you found him squinting at your shirt.

"Whose shirt is that?"

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

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who's a good boy? {ralph x reader}

{summary} you give ralph a very special present after his birthday party.

{word count} 7.4k

{warnings} SMUT (18+ ONLY), sub!ralph and soft dom!reader, ruined orgasm, handjob, pillow humping, oral sex f receiving, unprotected sex, titty sucking, light(?) pet play, collaring, 'puppy' pet name and 'ma'am' title, very slight/implied? foot fetish, dom/sub dynamics, fluff, angst but it all works out, mention of an arranged marriage, mention of cousin marriage (sorry guys lol), reader smokes a cigarette, reader has eldest daughter syndrome, ralph is the goodest boy, taking the "golden retriever boyfriend" trope to a whole new level

You'd had quite a time watching Ralph at his party— he was so full of energy, bouncing off the walls in between chatting with his guests and dancing to the music. You could barely keep up with him, even when he dragged you to the dancefloor to join him; "Don't you wanna dance with the birthday boy?" he winked at you, and you could hardly say no to that.

Now that you knew, it was obvious— of course Ralph had a puppy side, just look at the man scampering all around his own party like he couldn't decide what to do next! But even if it was clear to you now, you hadn't always realized it. You'd known him for years, but only had the privilege of seeing that side of him properly almost a year ago.

See, Ralph was an old friend, and when you were visiting London you typically stayed with him and his sister in their estate. Living with someone, even as a guest, means you run the risk of catching them in a compromising situation.

Still, you never imagined finding Ralph in your bedroom one afternoon, humping your pillow.

It was quite a sight, his hands holding on tight to the white downy cloud, his face flushed pink and his mouth parted with a gasp as he rocked his hips. He had his trousers pulled down enough for his bare arse to be exposed to you, which made you giggle, which made him shriek and tumble off the bed in surprise.

You narrowed your eyes as you waited for him to come back out, but there was a long silence. "Ralph? Are you back there?" you asked gently as you stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind you.

"...No," he answered back pitifully, and you smiled as you tilted your head.

"It's okay," you promised, "I was just going to ask what you were doing in my room. Can you stop hiding now?"

His head started to hesitantly appear from the other side of the mattress, his eyes big and wet and blinking at you quickly. "How… how long were you standing there?" he wondered quietly.

"Long enough," you promised, and he whined. "Will you tell me what you were doing?"

He pouted slightly as he rested his chin on your duvet. "I was…" he sighed, shutting his eyes tight. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay!" you promised. "Can you just say it?"

"I was… rubbing myself… o-on your pillow."

The poor boy had gone beet red, poor thing. Not that you could blame him, it was quite the situation to be caught in. "Thank you for telling me," you offered. "What were you doing such a silly thing for?"

"I was— well, I felt a little… strange all day," he explained. "It's just that… being around you, sometimes I… oh, I can't help it!"

You chuckled as he crinkled up his nose with a frown.

"I just— you know that I adore you!" he continued. "I've said as much a thousand times. And I came here to tell you again! But I was feeling so… a-and your pillow, it smelled just like you, it smelled like your hair, and I…"

You stepped closer to the bed, and he looked up at you before darting his eyes away again. "What a naughty boy," you chided, hearing him whimper through his teeth. "Is that what you do when you're feeling worked up, Ralph? You wander about the house and hump whatever you can find, like a bad puppy?"

And that was when you knew. Because you'd only meant it as a joke— as an apt comparison!— but his mouth fell open and he started really panting.

You smiled wide. "Oh, you are…" you sighed. "Come on, why don't you come out here and have a talk with me?"

"L-let me get my trousers back on—"

"That won't be necessary," you insisted firmly, and there was a pause before he hesitantly stood up and stepped closer to you. "You're not going to bring your new friend?"

You pointed to the pillow he'd left on the floor, and he bit his lip as he stooped down and picked it up, holding it to cover himself as he approached you. "I-I hope I haven't offended you…" he whispered.

"Not at all," you nodded. "Unless you've stained my pillow. Have you?"

He swallowed and looked to the side. "Erm…"

"Show me," you demanded.

He shakily turned the pillow around, and you smiled at the sight of a small wet patch by the middle. Your stomach jumped imagining his cock leaking that onto the silk, and you dragged your finger over it.

"All because it smelled like me, huh?" you prompted, and he nodded.

"You smell divine," he explained, "and it only made me think of how pretty you are when you sleep—"

"How would you know that?"

He froze up. "I— well, it's— only once—"

You laughed, and he shut his mouth quickly. "Come on, Ralphie, show me your problem."

"What?"

"Take the pillow away, let me see."

He made a face like he was going to protest, but then he was tucking the pillow under his arm and leaving his open trousers exposed— his cock red from the lack of attention, leaking all over his ginger patch of hair, curling up to his stomach and the trail following beneath his belly button. Poor thing.

"How long have you been like this?" you asked.

"F-feels like ever since you arrived," he mumbled. "Every time you visit, it gets like this. I mean— of course that's not the only time. But when I think of you… it doesn't want to go away."

"Would you like me to help?" you offered.

He looked stunned, you even saw him stop breathing, but he nodded eagerly. "I-if you'd like to…"

You reached forward and wrapped your hand around him at the base, and instantly he tried to rock his hips against your hand. "No, you've gotta stay still," you ordered.

"Y-yes— I'm sorry," he sighed. You began with slow, long strokes, watching his foreskin slide up a bit over his head and then move back down. "Oh, your hands are so soft," he whimpered, "I knew they would be. I knew it."

"You imagined this?" you presumed, and he nodded quickly.

"Every time I touched myself— I pretended it was you touching me. But your hands feel so much nicer…"

You smiled a bit and stroked him faster, twisting your hand at the tip, letting his sticky fluid ease your movements. He started to buck up into your hand a bit, but you didn't correct him this time. "Such a needy little thing," you whispered to him, "imagining me when you're all by yourself. It's sweet, really. I thought of you, too."

"Really?" he gasped, and you nodded.

"I thought you might be well-behaved. I didn't know you were just a bad little puppy going around rubbing your cock on pillows."

He whined. "Darling— I can't… take much more."

You grinned. "You're going to finish already?"

"Yes," he grunted.

"Yes ma'am."

"Yes… yes, ma'am," he whined. "Oh, please don't— don't stop!"

You did. He didn't.

His hips rocked up into the air, into nothing, as he started to come. It shot out of his cock and landed all over the floor— loads of it, so much it even rolled down his shaft in big white beads, soaking his dishevelled trousers. You watched with a grin as he made such a mess of himself, eyes shut tightly and mouth open to let out his pathetically loud moans, and waited for him to come down from it.

He did, eventually, catching his breath as he looked down at how much come he'd gotten on the rug.

"Oh," he pouted, "Victoria's going to kill me, she loves this rug."

"Is this a common problem for you? Leaving messes on the rug?" you smirked. "Golly, you are just a bad puppy after all."

But the only way to train a bad puppy to be good is with practice. You established some new rules that day.

First, Ralph was not permitted to touch himself anymore. A man of his merit shouldn't be debasing himself that way regardless, but a good puppy should tell his owner when he needs to be taken care of. Immediately, Ralph resented this rule because you only visited for a few months out of the year. Your compromise was that he could hump as many pillows as he liked while you were gone, but never use his hand on himself— far too uncivilised, really.

Second, Ralph had to begin properly minding his manners. Please and thank you were vital; yes ma'am and no ma'am were truly paramount.

Third, and maybe the most important, was that if he didn't like something and needed it to stop, he'd have to say 'pamplemousse'. The actual word was his idea, because only he could come up with something that ridiculous, but the purpose of it was your idea. You wanted him to understand that part of his training might include things that were hard for him, but that you needed to do— as such, 'no ma'am' might not always be enough to make you stop.

He'd used that word only a few times in nearly a year of these special encounters. Once because he'd already come twice and being touched just hurt too much. Once because you said too much about him being naughty and he got scared that you'd leave and find another puppy to play with instead. And once just because he really needed to go to the bathroom. Really, he was quite tough and could handle a lot, even a good spanking if he'd earned it. Even an impulsive, desperate boy like Ralph could learn to be good, after all.

You'd visited a little more frequently ever since, usually for a month or two at a time and never more than six months between visits. Ralph would write you letters constantly, begging you to visit again soon, asking if you'd thought of him as much as he'd thought of you, telling you about dreams he'd had or books he'd read or just about anything that had happened while you were away.

Of course, you had to visit for his 30th birthday. He didn't quite act his age… well, he didn't at all, but he was so excited to enter a new decade of his life regardless. I simply couldn't celebrate at all without you there, he told you in his letter, if you don't come I won't have the party at all, and Victoria will never forgive me.

Obviously, you never had any intention of missing such a special occasion. You arrived only a week before the party, having to lock away your trunk full of birthday presents for the twins in a closet— otherwise Ralph would likely find it and open them all early.

(He got especially impatient when you'd been away for so long. It would take a bit of training to get him back to his best behavior.)

And the night of the party, after all this planning, Ralph was like you'd never seen him before. Jittery with nerves but beside himself with excitement— he had been basically pacing around the entire house all day, mumbling about how he should've had the party start at ten in the morning instead of seven in the evening, even though no party you'd ever heard of started so early.

He was inconsolably anxious and yet happy, and kept going on about how long he'd been waiting to see you again and how happy he was that you were here.

Of course, he made that obvious when he couldn't even make it through the entire carriage ride back from the train station without begging literally on his knees for some attention. You only ignored him for a second before he started humping your leg, rambling about how pretty your stockings were, insisting that he'd been so good without you and just needed his reward.

He got his reward: you let him finish in his trousers and kiss your feet as an apology, until your good nature took over— then, you held his face and wiped away his tears and gave him a proper kiss on the mouth. "Missed you, puppy," you whispered to him, and he threw his arms around you. You held each other the rest of the ride to his estate.

As you watched him run all around his party, you were sure he would wear himself out any minute now. Still, he seemed to have infinite energy all the way through the night, even as the guests were leaving— even once Victoria had passed out in the tea room and you had told him you were retiring for the evening any moment now. He should, too, with how disheveled he looked— his bowtie hanging loosely around his neck, his shirt unbuttoned and cumberbund askew.

Still, you saw the little pout on his lips when you told him that you’d be going to sleep yourself soon; you chuckled quietly. "What's the matter?" you asked.

"I… nothing," he assured, "it's nothing at all. I had the most wonderful time— and I'm glad you could come. You know I would've never stopped grieving if you missed such a special birthday."

"I could never miss it, Ralph," you promised, "not for the world."

You gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "Are you really going to bed so early?" he asked.

"It's nearly three," you reminded him.

"Yes, but—" he choked.

"Let me at least get into my nightclothes, and if you're still awake, I'll call for you."

He swallowed nervously. "Ma'am, I'll stay up for a week waiting for you."

You smiled. "I'm sure. Just entertain yourself for a bit, please, Ralph."

You changed from your party attire into something you could sleep in— and something you knew would make your poor puppy get all dry in the mouth right away. Ralph liked how you looked in just about anything, but he had a couple favorites that you'd packed for the trip.

Next, you found the last present, the one you'd hidden best, and set it before you.

You listened to the silence for a second, wondering if he was still outside your room. "Ralphiiiiee," you sang to him, and you laughed as you heard him come bounding down the hallway.

"Yes, my love?" he asked eagerly as he popped his head in the door. His expression changed when he saw you laying on the bed, draped in your lace nightgown, the golden-wrapped box waiting in front of you and tied with a red bow. "Is that…?"

You nodded when his massive brown eyes fell on the gift. "Yes, Ralphie, that's for you. I had to get you just one more present."

As if the first eight weren't enough. "Darling," he cooed, stepping into the bedroom and sitting on the foot of the bed, "you'll spoil me."

"We both know you're already spoiled rotten, Ralphie," you grinned.

"Can I open it, please?" he asked sweetly; minding his manners so well… he hadn't always been like that, he used to struggle more with his impulsivity and even brattiness. You were so proud to see how far he'd come, and that was what this gift was all about. He beamed as you nodded, ripping at the paper until he could pop the lid off the paper box.

You saw his eyes water as he looked at the gift inside, a baby blue silk collar, decorated with tiny roses and a bow at the front— you figured that would look quite handsome since he wore bowties so often anyways. Best of all, it had a dangling silver tag bearing his engraved name and a tiny little bell, too, so you'd always know where he was.

Ralph stared at it for a moment before looking at you again. "It's really mine?" he realized.

"Of course," you smiled. "I had it made just for you. I want you to really be my puppy."

He was blushing and smiling shyly, batting those long eyelashes at you. "Oh… I wanna be your puppy, too. Love being your puppy."

"I know," you cooed. "Wanna try it on?"

He nodded quickly, holding the box towards you. You picked the collar up by each end, and he instantly leaned in and bared his neck for you.

It was a little tricky to buckle the back of it without looking, but his face was just too precious to look anywhere else. "There," you announced once it was fastened, dropping your hands and leaning back to take in the full sight. "Wow, what a handsome boy," you praised, grinning when he shyly reaching up to hold his own face. "Wanna see how you look in your new collar, puppy?"

He all but dragged you to the vanity mirror, and you both admired his reflection quietly. One of his hands came up to gently brush over the silk, toying with the silver engraved heart. "Are you sure I've earned it?" he suddenly asked.

Funny question, since he'd be begging for one during your last visit— he insisted constantly that he'd been good enough, that he deserved it. Now he seemed a little overwhelmed. "Of course," you promised, "you're the best little puppy in the world. Do you like it, Ralph?"

"Oh, ma'am— it's perfect," he beamed, hopping up and down just a bit. "It's wizard!"

You laughed slightly as he spun around and pulled you into a tight hug.

"Thank you so much!" he said, a little too loud for how close he was to your ear, but you didn't mind because it just meant he was excited. He pulled away and turned to see himself in the mirror again, fiddling with it around his neck.

"Is it too tight?" you worried.

"No! No, I… I like feeling it," he explained, blushing a little harder.

You raised an eyebrow. "How much do you like it?" you asked, but you didn't need him to answer with words; he watched in the mirror as your hand moved down to the front of his trousers, rubbing his erection as it grew firmer against your touch.

"Oh, m-ma'am," he choked, "thank you…"

"No, thank you… you've been so good for me for quite a while now," you recalled. "I wasn't sure if you could be trained, a spoiled brat like you."

He groaned through his teeth briefly.

"But you took to it so well, learned all your lessons, learned sit and stay," you remembered proudly.

"Stay is the hardest," he blurted out, and you grinned.

"Which one is the easiest?" you pressed.

"Come," he decided instantly, making you laugh softly.

"I bet you're right…"

You stopped rubbing the bulge in his pants then, making him whine slightly, but then you reached up to pet his head instead— playing with his hair that had started to fall out of its meticulous style.

"Why don't you show me how good you are?" you prompted him. "You didn't forget anything I taught you, right?"

"No ma'am," he panted as he turned to face you and dropped to his knees— the bell jingled quietly when he did it, and you smiled. He grasped at your thighs eagerly through the nightgown. "I remember everything."

"Let's see it, then," you nodded.

He lifted the see-through fabric and ducked his head under it, kissing your thighs softly. "Missed you so much," he breathed against your skin.

You felt his tongue slide up the seam of your cunt, and you fought against a shudder; he didn't tease you much, usually too eager to do anything but dive in, but he still learned to ease into it carefully when he could.

He flattened his tongue and gave you another lick, pushing deeper between your lips, and you reached down to the opening of your robe to grab his hair.

It encouraged him even more, and you moaned louder as he did it again and again. "That's my good boy," you sighed. "Such a good boy for me, fuck, knows exactly how to use that cute puppy tongue, huh?"

You heard (and felt) him hum softly against you, sucking on your clit while your hole throbbed for him. Just in time, he broke the seal to stick his tongue inside you and feel it. "D'you like it?" he asked excitedly. "It feels like you do— am I doing good?"

"So good," you agreed with a sigh. "You love pleasing your owner, don't you?"

"Mhm," he hummed as his eyes fell shut, lashes resting on his flushed cheeks. He put his mouth on you again and suckled harder at your bundle of nerves; your whole body jolted when he accidentally grazed his teeth too hard over the most sensitive spot and you quickly swatted him on the head.

"Bad puppy, no biting," you scolded.

"M'sorry, m'so sorry," he slurred as he kissed all over your thighs apologetically. "Didn't mean to, ma'am, I swear—"

"It's okay, baby, just keep going," you soothed, sighing with relief as he lapped at you again. "See? You're a good boy— fuck, just like that…"

He went on that way for a while, until you felt the pressure building in your gut and a heat spreading inside your channel.

You didn't want him to know how easily he could make you come now, in case it all went to his head; "Lean back, Ralphie, lemme see your new collar again," you instructed with a sigh, giving yourself a break from his perfect tongue on your bud.

He popped his head out from under the robe with a wide smile, lips a little swollen and coated in your slick. You hooked your finger under the band and tugged at it a bit, just to feel him jolt.

"Look so pretty," you noticed with a sigh.

"Thank you, ma'am," he cooed at the praise. "You look pretty too— I like looking at you from down here."

"I bet you do," you smirked. "I bet your cock's real needy now, isn't it?"

He stammered but eventually nodded.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes, ma'am…"

"You can rub it on my foot while you keep going, okay?" you offered.

"Th-thank you," he gasped, and you loved the way he rocked his hips to grind against your bare foot on the floor— your lip caught between your teeth as you imagined him moving that way to thrust inside you, filling you and stretching you—

"Ah, fuck," you gasped, his tongue sliding into you again. You could feel how hard he was on the curve of your ankle, and you smiled to yourself. "Keep tasting inside me, Ralphie, doing so good…"

He whined against you, suckling harder at your skin, nose brushing up against your mound while his eyes shut tightly.

"Just a little more," you promised, holding his head by his hair and rocking your hips against him, "mm, just a little longer, puppy…"

“Please come,” you heard him whisper against you, not stopping long enough to properly say it. “Please, please?”

His sweet begging did help you along, but even better was the way he stuck his tongue out and just let you ride it, rubbing your clit against his wide open mouth. He was looking up at you with those beautiful eyes, silently pleading for a taste of your pleasure, and you let go: with a groan, you tossed your head back and felt your whole body seize up for a moment— including the hand in his hair, tugging on his delicate curls.

He whined but stayed still. “G-good boy,” you breathed, slowing down your movements as the pleasure began to subside.

When you let go of his hair, he pulled back and blinked up at you. "Was that good, ma'am?" he asked excitedly, swallowing and panting; you nodded and he smiled.

"Really good,” you nodded. “So good, I think you might’ve earned a treat.”

He perked up instantly.

“You want a treat, puppy?" you offered, and he nodded eagerly.

He watched carefully as you untied your robe and let it fall to the floor, entirely nude as you laid back on the bed.

Usually, you would ride him and watch his face get all twisted up and desperate— sometimes you would bend over and let him hump you as fast and needy as he wanted, if he'd been very good. But this was rare, laying on your back and spreading your legs for him, letting him see how well he'd eaten you out.

He stripped with preternatural speed, leaving only his collar on, and jumped up onto the bed so fast that the whole mattress bounced a couple times. You laughed while he climbed up over you, finding his place between your legs.

"I can… I can fuck you, ma'am?" he realized with a smile.

You were hardly done nodding when he gripped his cock tight and guided it to your opening. He pushed in right away, making you arch your back as he buried himself as deep as he could go.

"You feel so good," he breathed, leaning down over you, "I— I love you."

"I know," you smiled, "I love you, too, puppy."

"No," he whined, "s-say my name when you tell me you love me. Please?"

"Ralph," you replied, "I love you."

"Oh," he gasped, beginning to move inside you. He wasn’t too fast at first— which was a bit surprising, usually he got really needy and couldn’t slow down. It seemed almost like he couldn’t take much more than this yet, like he really needed to go this slowly to ease himself into the feeling. “Oh— I almost forgot how warm you are… s-so warm inside and… and tight…”

“Does it feel good?” you asked, redundantly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he choked, even sniffling slightly. Sometimes he got a lot of big feelings when you let him fuck you… it wasn’t that rare at all for him to cry. You thought it was precious. “Y-yes, it’s so… s’good, ma’am, feels so nice…”

“Can you fuck me a little harder, puppy?” you encouraged, and he nodded, picking up his pace and hitting his hips on yours just a bit more roughly. “Mm, that’s nice. Do you like that, too?”

“Yeah,” he whimpered. “Can I… can I touch your boobs?”

You snorted for a second. “They’re breasts, Ralph.”

“R-right, can I touch them?”

You nodded, and he quickly propped himself up on one hand to grope your chest with the other. You felt his cock flex inside you right away. “I bet you missed those, too.”

“So much,” he sighed.

“I missed the way you suck on them, puppy, d’you maybe wanna—?”

His mouth was already around your nipples, suckling eagerly as his eyes fell shut. He moaned against the skin, and you felt your own walls flex as he flicked his tongue over the firm skin. “Oh!” he smiled as he pulled back, looking up at you proudly. “I know you liked that— your pussy gave me a hug.”

“Yeah, I did,” you nodded, “keep going.”

His lips kept a seal around the sensitive skin, his tongue lapping and swirling around emphatically. He moved back and forth between each one as his hands kept massaging and squeezing you, cheeks hollowing while he sucked harder.

"Fuck," you groaned lowly— it felt great, but the best part was just the way he looked doing it: eyes fallen shut, so focused on his task, lips pink and pursed, jaw accentuated by his open mouth…

He stopped after a few minutes, maybe having noticed that your skin was pricking with goosebumps. "Am I being good?" he panted. "A-am I your… your good p-puppy?"

"Yes, baby," you sighed, clutching his arm tight. "My good little puppy— you feel so good, keep fucking me just like that."

He whined through his teeth and did as he was told. The metal tag on his collar was dangling right over your face as he thrusted into you, and you smiled as you reached up and toyed with it briefly with one finger. He smiled a little when he noticed what you were doing. "I love wearing your collar," he admitted breathlessly. "I love being yours."

Your heart clenched, as did your walls. "All mine, puppy?" you pressed. "My good boy…"

He whined slightly as he dropped his face down into the crook of your neck, fucking you a little faster. "Y-yes, ma'am, yours— m'yours… oh—"

Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you wrapped your legs around his hips to keep him deep inside. You could tell he was close, doing his best to hold out until you finished.

"Please," he whimpered, and you felt his hands hold your waist tighter. "Are you close? Please, just wanna be good for you, please come…."

You would, but maybe not fast enough for him; “S’okay, baby,” you promised, “it’s gonna be okay— look at me, puppy?”

He pulled his face out of the cave created by your shoulder and the pillow, blinking down at you with watery eyes. You reached up and pet his face, briefly tangling your fingers into his thoroughly-mussed hair. Your toes were curling, he was doing everything right— and your first orgasm on his face left you still sensitive— you just needed him to pick up the pace to get you there.

“Li’l faster, puppy,” you instructed, and he whimpered but obeyed; “good boy.”

The bell jingled louder above your face as he panted. "M-ma'am, I can't— I can't—"

"Shh," you soothed, "yes you can, you can hold on a little longer. 'Cause you're my good little puppy, right?"

"Yes, but—"

"Shh," you soothed, "just keep going, I'm close—"

"I wanna be good for you, I wanna be good," he chanted breathlessly. "I'm gonna— please let me stop!"

"Don't fucking stop," you hissed.

"But I'll— ohh," he whimpered. "I'm not allowed to… I need to pull out."

You smiled proudly. "That's your last present, puppy. You can stay inside."

He didn't seem to understand right away— maybe he just couldn't believe it. "Even when I finish?"

You nodded. "Just because you're so good…"

"O-oh, thank you," he whined, "thank you— I— unh!"

Of course he hardly lasted a second after that, coming inside you as he clutched at the sheets by your face. He kept rocking his hips, knocking into your most sensitive spot and sending you over the edge at the same time.

While the pleasure was swirling in your mind and washing over your body in bright-white heat, he was still fucking into you quickly, still whining loudly above you— his hips were still moving even as tears started to stream down his face, even as the height of your ecstasy was already starting to fade.

"Puppy, you're still going!" you noticed with a laugh.

"Y-you didn't say I could stop yet," he explained, and you sighed.

"You can stop now," you nodded, and he collapsed onto you with a whine. "Oh, baby— you did really good…"

He shivered as you traced your fingers along the blemishless, pale expanse of his back. "Really?" he hiccuped.

"Yes, puppy, so very good. My good boy."

He hummed happily, if sleepily, above you. You were impressed he still had all that energy left after his party had raged well into the night; maybe it was just that he couldn’t really rest until he knew he’d been good for you.

You both caught your breath for a moment as he wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly.

"Don't leave this time."

"Huh?" you mumbled

"Don't leave,” he pleaded. “Don't go home. Stay here all the time— the visits aren't enough anymore!"

He wasn’t usually so coherent right after an orgasm— this was normally when he was deepest in his puppy space, basically non-verbal with just little whines and smiles to offer you when you asked how he was feeling. He liked to get cuddly and sweet and give you lots of kisses, sometimes thanking you for being so nice and letting him come. This… was new.

Sure, asking you to stay longer, even asking you to stay forever, was well-trod territory. But that was usually the night before you left or the day you took your carriage back to the train back to your estate far, far away. Not right after coming with another three weeks of your visit left. “Please,” he whined quietly into your shoulder, and you sighed.

“Ralph, you know I always have to go back home,” you breathed, “there are always things to be done. I have my own estate to manage, my… family, my sisters and cousins— my great aunt, she needs to be taken care of, too. Not just you.”

“But you love me,” he whimpered, and you stroked his back soothingly.

“I do,” you hummed. “I love you very much. But for all the reasons you can’t come back with me to my home, I can’t stay here in yours.”

"Can't we just get married?"

Your throat caught. No, it wasn’t the first time he’d asked. He admitted not too long ago that he’d wanted to ask for your hand as soon as he met you, but Victoria told him not to— she must’ve known you were in no position to say yes. “Well—”

“Before you say no again,” he begged, popping his head back up to look at you properly, “just think of how nice it would be! It would be like this all the time—”

“We’d argue, sometimes,” you interjected.

“And I’m already yours forever,” he explained, “so we might as well—”

“Ralph,” you said sternly, making him clamp his mouth shut and look at you sadly. “Get off of me and go wash yourself.”

“D-don’t make me leave yet,” he pleaded, but you only gave him a stern look.

Disappointed, almost pouting, Ralph pulled out of you carefully and found some undergarments to put back on; you, meanwhile, slipped on your robe again and lit a cigarette, taking deep breaths through it as you admired the way he sat at the foot of the bed, in only his underwear and brand new collar. “You look quite handsome, darling,” you told him, but he only glanced at you for a moment.

“I just don’t understand why we can’t marry,” he sighed, “if you really love me.”

You didn’t realize he was still on that. “Because things are expected of me,” you explained, “my family… they’re very traditional. I’ve known who I’m supposed to marry since I was a little girl.”

Ralph looked at you, over his shoulder, eyes getting redder. “You’re promised to someone?”

You nodded.

“Dare I ask whom?”

You felt your face get a little warmer— it was sort of embarrassing to admit. “Well, I think you know I have a distant cousin with a large inheritance?”

Ralph scoffed as he looked back down into his lap. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I knew it would upset you,” you explained, “I hoped maybe you’d heard— it’s no secret.”

“No secret? You let me believe we could be together!” he snapped.

“Watch your tone,” you warned him.

“No!” he yelped standing up. “I just want to be with you! N-nothing else has ever made me feel as right as being with you, and you’re going to go marry someone else? What of me then— I’ll be your, your… mistress?!”

You sighed. “You’ll find someone else, Ralph. Anyone should be so lucky to have you—”

“I hate you!” he shouted suddenly, reaching up behind his neck to try to unbuckle the collar. “Why would you give me this?!”

You sat up, reaching out to try to stop him, but he jumped up and away from you.

“You were lying to me,” he sobbed, “you said you really loved me— you lied!”

He finally managed to get the collar off, throwing it onto the ground and storming out of your room.

You wondered if you should chase after him, or let him have his tantrum and talk in the morning. Then you remembered that, technically, it was still his birthday. Or at the very least, it was only a few hours since his birthday ended; you really hadn’t wanted to tell him today, but he was always asking about marriage and commitment, about more than just these occasional visits. He was bound to find out one way or another.

You sighed, a cloud of smoke rising to the ceiling. You really shouldn’t have let him find out on his birthday, though…

Putting out the cigarette on a jade ashtray, you got up (finding your legs a little more wobbly than you expected) and stepped out into the hallway. Ralph was still marching down it defiantly.

“C’mon, Ralph, you can’t go out in just your pants—” you called after him.

“Leave me alone,” he ordered sharply, swinging a door open and slamming it behind him.

You followed him out into the garden, ignoring your own bare-footedness, the cold sod thankfully dry under your soles; he stood facing away from you, arms crossed, staring up at the moon and looking, well… completely ridiculous. He was almost entirely nude and it was foggy and unpleasant out (not exactly uncharacteristic of London); “Ralphie,” you cooed quietly, and he just sniffled and dropped his head. “Look at me, please? I’m sorry. I should’ve told you from the start.”

He shook his head. “Wouldn’t’ve made a difference.”

You said nothing, crossing your own arms to cover yourself from the slight evening breeze.

“I can’t change how I feel about you. It never would’ve been any different, even if I knew. I would have fallen for you just the same.”

Letting out a long sigh, you nearly got the wind knocked out of you when he spun and snatched you into a tight hug. “Ralph—” you choked, but he paid no mind to your asphyxiation.

He clung tightly onto the fabric by your waist, dropping his head onto your shoulder and soaking it with his tears. “We’re supposed to be together,” he insisted, “I know we are. I know it’s supposed to be you and I— I wanna be your husband, an’ your puppy, and… and anything you want me to be.”

You reached up to wrap your arms around his back. He stepped closer to you, pressing his whole body against yours.

“I love you so much,” he whispered. “You can’t go— you have to stay.”

“I wish that I could,” you replied, “truly. But I can’t let my family down.”

“If they really cared for you,” he said quietly, “they’d let you love who you wanted.”

You nodded, knowing that was true, but also knowing that you couldn’t let it make a difference. For a long time, you kept yourself from feeling the way you feel now about Ralph— because you knew it would hold you back and keep you from doing all that must be done.

“You take care of everybody else,” he announced suddenly, pulling back from the embrace just enough to rest his hand on your face. “Isn’t that so sad? You take care of everyone— your sisters and your aunt and even me— but who will take care of you?”

Actually, it wasn’t the first time that Ralph was shockingly insightful; he had his head in the clouds most of the time, so in those rare moments where he randomly blurted out something suddenly thoughtful, it threw everyone off. You knew how smart and intuitive he could be, but even still, you never expected him to say something so flippantly that cut right to your core.

“The man you’re supposed to marry— your cousin, I haven’t even begun to address that,” he frowned, “will he? Take care of you, I mean. Because I think maybe I could… live with it. I could never love someone else, but maybe I could let you go on your way, if I knew he would take care of you better than I could.”

You blinked quickly, staring down at the ground, at your bare feet between his in the garden’s grass— the moonlight making their dark green hue look almost blue-ish.

“Tell me that he will,” he breathed, suddenly grabbing your face with both his hands and pulling it up to look at him and his wide, wild eyes. “Tell me that he’ll be good to you or tell me that you’ll stay and be my wife.”

“I… I don’t,” you whispered, searching for words and only finding pesky emotions. “I don’t even think I’d know where to start, being taken care of.”

He smiled wide as he clutched your face, squishing your cheeks, and you scrunched up your nose and tried to writhe away.

“Ralphie, c’mon,” you pouted, breaking out of his embrace, only for him to grab you and hug you tighter again.

“Let me try,” he pleaded, voice soft yet… hopeful. “Let me try, love, I’ll teach you how. R’member what you said to me when I first told you that I loved you?”

Can’t help it, he’d hiccuped after another scolding for naughtiness, jus’ love you too much.

All right, you’d replied, but you need to behave.

Dunno how…

And you’d pet him on the head to help him calm down a bit. I’ll take care of you, puppy. I’ll teach you how to behave.

“I remember,” you sighed.

“I wanna take care of you, too,” Ralph insisted. “I know I’m not s-strong, or… all that masculine, I suppose. But I love you so much that I think I could do anything.”

You didn’t notice that you were crying until he started to kiss all over your face, kissing your tears away, too. You giggled and gently pushed on his bare chest to try to escape from the onslaught of affection.

“I think I could be anything!” he announced excitedly, clutching your shoulders as he stood up straight and looked at you. “I could even be the man you need. If you just tell me who he is.”

You smiled and brushed one of his tears, left behind in a stripe along his cheek from his outburst, away with your fingers. “You’re already right here, Ralph.”

He pulled you into a kiss— not desperate, not needy, just warm and soft and all-encompassing. You draped your arms around his shoulders, humming into it, feeling this bizarre-but-lovely sort of feeling in your chest. Optimism, maybe? This was all very new to you. “Say yes, then,” he mumbled against your lips. “Say you’ll let me marry you.”

You nodded; you could hardly believe it yourself, but you nodded.

“No, say it,” he insisted, and you broke away from the kiss just far enough to reply.

“I’ll marry you,” you agreed. He smiled wide and did a happy little jump, quickly pecking you on the cheek again.

“I’m gonna make you so happy, darling, n’take such good care of you,” he promised, “really— you won’t regret it.”

“I’m sure,” you smiled, letting him hug you tight and jostle you around for a moment. “Okay! Settle down, now…”

“How could I? This is the best birthday ever!”

He made you laugh again by showering you in more kisses, on your face and neck and shoulders, mumbling all his promises to do everything he could to be the best husband who ever lived. It was extravagant, but Ralph wasn’t an especially subtle guy— nor a realistic one.

“I’ll adore you constantly,” he promised between pecks along your jaw, “and— and I’ll buy you whatever you like—”

“That doesn’t matter,” you rolled your eyes, but your stomach was all jittery with excitement anyways.

“I’ll never let anything hurt you,” he went on, and somehow you really felt that you believed him, even if your quieting cynical side swore that those sorts of dreams just don’t come true. “And we’re going to be so happy— I swear, darling, the happiest people who ever lived.”

You opened your mouth to disagree, to try to keep the both of you from getting your hopes up, but he captured it in another long kiss; by the time it was over, you’d forgotten what you were going to say. “I love you,” you said instead.

“Love you more,” he cooed as he pecked you on the nose, though he shivered as another gust of breeze shook the shrubberies and tickled his delicate skin. “Can we go back in now?” he asked with a pout. “It’s so cold.”

“You’re naked,” you reminded him.

“And I’m cold!” he whined. “I wanna put my collar back on.”

“Won’t do much for the cold,” you warned, the two of you walking hand-in-hand back to the house.

“No, it won’t,” he agreed, “neither will that ring I bought when you first came to visit us. But you’ll have to put that on, too.”

#ralph timewasters #ralph timewasters fic #ralph timewasters smut #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn fanfiction

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familyvideostevie · 8 months

Text

october fifth

day five: eddie munson you and eddie go mushroom picking | fluff, friends to lovers | 1.2k

Eddie is kind of weird but you like him. You really like him, actually. An embarrassing amount considering you’re just friends. But you can’t help it! He’s got those soft brown eyes and he laughs at everything and he’s kind and looks scary but isn’t. He’s a huge nerd and he really likes bananas and he is always late to pick you up but pays for your fries when you go to the drive through.

You met in the middle of summer and Eddie in those months was like sunshine. He’d whine about the heat and the sun but he’d also glow. Now, in your second season of knowing him, it’s like a while new side to his personality. He’s alive, all leather and jean jackets and layers and messy hair and cigarettes hanging from chapped lips even though you’ve told him he should quit. He loves Halloween candy and horror movies and the changing of the leaves and you’re starting to like all of that, too, because his enthusiasm is infectious.

He has a job at some local produce shop and you’re chipping way at college classes while working in Hawkins and he’s basically your only friend. Not for lack of trying on his part, though — he’s introduced you to everyone else but you just feel most comfortable with him.

It’s a normal fall day and you’re on your very tiny apartment balcony reading when you hear the tell-tale sputter of his van and his music and then Eddie is rounding the bend a little too fast. He parks and hops out and jogs over, looking up at you all the while with a grin so wide you’re worried he’ll catch bugs in his teeth.

“Rapunzel! Juliet! Pretty girl on the balcony, hey!”

You stand and lean over the railing. “Eddie, you don’t have to shout,” you chide. He shrugs.

“Do you want to go on an adventure?”

That could mean anything. Just last week you drove halfway across the state for a Dungeons and Dragons figurine with him and Dustin. But what else do you have going on? You’ll take every second you can get with Eddie.

You should probably ask where and what but you just say sure and head inside to change. It’s getting colder by the day so you layer up and meet him outside.

“You’re gonna love this shit,” he says when he sees you. He scoops you into a quick hug and you get in the van. Eddie smells like tobacco and vegetables, which means he was at work this morning.

“And what is this shit?” He drives down your street and heads in a direction you don’t think you’ve been before.

“We’re going mushroom picking.”

That is probably the last thing you expected him to say. “Really?”

He nods, still grinning. “Really,” he says. “Just at the state park two towns over. Indiana lets you pick whatever you want.”

You toy with the edge of your sleeve. “Eddie,” you say. “Why are we going mushroom picking?”

He looks over at you and your face feels hot. “Rick wants to try growing some or some shit like that so he wants me to scout what can grow here.”

“Do you know anything about mushrooms? Aren’t there super poisonous ones?” Eddie wouldn’t put you in danger knowingly, but he’s not always the most thorough planner.

He gasps and clutches his chest like you’ve insulted him. “Excuse you!” he says. “I will have you know that I know a fucking ton about mushrooms because I had a mushroom phase as a kid. So I will be sure we only pick good ones. Unless you want to be poisoned, I guess. Or poison someone. Wait, do you want to commit murder?”

“Eddie.” He laughs. “A mushroom phase is pretty weird, you know.”

“I’m weird, sweetheart.”

That, you know. “Why did you ask me to come? Why not Dustin? He’d be all over this.”

Eddie looks…shy. Not something you see on him often. “You’re much prettier than Henderson,” he says, cheeks pink.

“Ha, ha,” you manage, trying not to let your own shyness at his words show.

You drive to the park and there aren’t many people there despite how nice the weather is. Eddie parks and grabs a cloth bag from the van and leads you down a path with confidence.

“So, the thing about mushrooms is—”

You listen as he rambles but mostly you watch him as he talks. His eyes are on the ground as his hands wave in the air making shapes and pointing at things. His energy is contagious and he’s got such long eyelashes and his hair looks so soft and wow, you really do have such a crush on him. He called you pretty in the van, didn’t he? Is there a possibility that he’s got a crush on you, too? Does that make this…a date?

Mushroom picking is a bit weird for a first date but then again, Eddie himself reminded you that he’s weird.

You aren’t really watching where you’re going but you stop in your tracks when Eddie grabs your wrist gently.

“Hey, hold on,” he says. You look at him but he’s looking down so you follow his gaze and see that you were about to step on something round and orange. You take a step back and Eddie squats, looking at it from multiple angles.

“What’s the verdict?” He looks up at you and he’s beaming.

“This is a good one,” he says. “Great find.” He pulls it out of the ground and puts it in the bag.

“I didn’t find it,” you correct. “I almost stepped on it.”

His hand circles your ankle for just a moment. Eddie looks up at you but does not rise from his crouch.

“You look pretty from down here,” he says softly, even though you’re the only ones on the path.

Your cheeks feel hot. “Impossible,” you say. “No one looks good from the angle.”

“You do,” he says. He stands. “You look nice from like, every angle, c’mon.”

“Eddie.” You shove his shoulder lightly. “Stop flirting with me. It’ll give me ideas.”

He steps into your space. “Ideas?” he asks. “What kind of ideas?”

This close you can see he’s got a few freckles on his nose and a tiny scar under one eye. Your heartbeat kicks into high gear and you don’t know where to look. “Like maybe…” You swallow. If you’re wrong you’re pretty sure he’ll be nice about it. He’s a good guy. “Like maybe this is a date?”

Eddie’s cheeks go crimson. His fingers catch yours and his eyes widen. “No, god no,” he says and your stomach sinks but he keeps going. “When I take you out it won’t be to a forest to pick mushrooms for my weird boss, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you say. His words make you brave. “What will we do, then?”

“Whatever you want,” he says immedietly. “The drive in, Enzo’s, the amusement park. Whatever you want.” He sounds as earnest as you’ve ever heard him.

“Okay.” You lean into his space and tip your forehead so it’s resting on his shoulder. This is all a little overwhelming. You huff out a happy laugh.

“Yeah?” Eddie says. “So you’ll go on a date with me? This is me actually asking, by the way.”

“Yeah,” you echo. “I’ll go on a date with you, Eddie Munson.”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

#fvspromptober23 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff

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adidastain · 4 months

Text

never say never

90s trey parker x fem reader

warnings: vomit mention, cheating mention

notes: first person perspective (I, me, my, etc.), part one

word count: 2622

—

“This is definitely raw,” I whispered to myself, sighing heavily. I prodded at the piece of chicken on the plate in front of me with my fork, trying my best not to look absolutely repulsed. It smelled good. It just didn’t look white enough on the inside for me to trust it.

Granted, I knew absolutely squat about cooking, so maybe I was wrong. There was a good chance my appetite was just gone, having been completely miserable throughout the entire four hours of this wedding so far.

Everyone was all gathered on the dance floor, having the time of their lives. I knew I needed to put some food in me, and I was exhausted, so no dancing for me. Especially not in these heels.

That being said, I was sitting at my table, alone. I watched my sister and her newly wedded husband dance around in circles, bumping into other couples every so often. What a total circus.

I sighed, getting up with my plate to pick out something else to eat. Most of the options were torn through already. I decided to play it safe and avoid meat, so I settled for some asparagus. It really isn’t as bad as a lot of people preach.

I really wanted a cigarette.

“Hey,” I heard a voice from behind me. A hand lightly nudged my arm, just out of reach.

It was Trey, one of the groomsmen. He was my partner when we walked down the aisle, meaning we’d had quite a lot of time to get to know each other a little during rehearsals and parties and whatnot.

“Hey,” I said calmly.

“Where have you been?” he asked me, smiling. “I’ve been shakin’ ass for like, thirty minutes. All by myself.”

I rolled my eyes. “My feet are killing me,” I said, looking at him with the most innocent eyes I could muster.

I knew Jimmy, my sister’s new husband, had known Trey from like, way, way back. Apparently they’ve been friends since they were 14. I also learned from Jimmy that Trey used to get so nervous when talking to girls that he’d have to go to the restroom and throw up. Part of me wondered if that was still something he struggled with. Probably not; I could tell Trey was a huge flirt. He’d just be torturing himself all the time if that were the case.

Trey’s blue eyes looked dark in the dim light. The only thing illuminating the dining space was the soft glow of tea candles at the centerpiece of each table. It was quite romantic.

“You can dance. C’mon. At least just one song,” Trey insisted, bargaining with me as he followed me back to my table. “Please?”

I felt just a little bit bad, but I really did not want to dance. I know it’s horrible, but I kind of wanted my sister to notice what an awful time I was having. She was older than me and had spent most of our childhood bullying and tormenting me, so I was a little bit of a fiend for validation and care from her.

It also didn’t help that she just married my ex-fiance. But, you know, it’s all good. Whatever.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, having sat back down. I stared down at my food, having lost my appetite yet again.

“Can I at least sit with you?” Trey asked me. I nodded, clearing my belongings off of the chair next to me so he could sit. He’d ditched his blazer somewhere and was now just left in a white dress shirt with no necktie or anything. I have to say, he looked pretty handsome, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, hair all messy and whatnot.

Trey sat with me and watched everyone scream the lyrics of Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond while I worked on my asparagus, nibble by nibble. He was a nice guy. He always sort of stuck to my side, hanging out with me whenever we had free time during the wedding rehearsals. He always came dressed in pajamas with some stubble on his face. Tonight was the first time I’d seen him looking so sharp and dapper.

After the song was over, he turned towards me again.

“You don’t like weddings,” Trey stated, resting his head in his palm.

I didn’t look up from my plate, shaking my head as I slowly chewed and swallowed the vegetable. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to eat.

“How come?” he asked me.

“It’s a long story,” I said quietly. “And I don’t wanna ruin your night. Or Jimmy’s. Or Amy’s, for that matter.”

“Well, you already ruined my night. By being a party-pooper.”

I scoffed, looking at him and rolling my eyes. He was just teasing me. He did that a lot.

“Just give me the short version,” he continued, scooting closer to me. Trey was sitting on the edge of his seat, his knee rapidly bouncing with anticipation.

A heavy sigh escaped me and I dropped my fork. I rubbed my temples, taking a deep breath, before tucking my hair behind both ears.

“Someone here stood me up at the altar,” I huffed, putting my hands in my lap. I gave Trey a look that read something along the lines of, Are you happy now?

He tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. “Who? When?” he asked.

“I thought you said you wanted the short version,” I said.

“Well, now I’m curious. I wasn’t expecting that. Tell me more,” he pressed, leaning closer to me.

I sighed through my nose, looking down at my lap. I swallowed and started picking at my fingernails.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I said. “Not that they don’t know already, it’s just… I don’t wanna bring up old shit, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah. I gotcha. Just tell me,” Trey said. God, why is he so eager?

I took a deep breath, letting my forehead sit in my hands to avoid making eye contact with him. I knew his response wasn’t going to be to hug me and tell me that I had every right to be miserable, but part of me really wanted his consolation. I wondered if telling him this would revoke his status as someone I felt safe with here. The only person I felt safe with here.

“I was supposed to get married last March. To Jimmy,” I mumbled. I felt like curling up into a ball and hiding under the table. I wanted to be buried alive at that moment.

“You have to be joking,” Trey said quietly.

“I’m not joking.”

“I didn’t know Jimmy was a fucking idiot,” he laughed.

I hummed. “Yeah. He’s the idiot,” I repeated.

“I mean, at least you didn’t have to go through all that court bullcrap, right?” he said. “Divorce fucking sucks.”

I’d somehow ended up subconsciously gripping my hair to the point of it almost being ripped out of my head. Trey probably didn’t mean to stress me out so much, but I wished he’d been more sensitive about it. I thought I’d gotten over it until rehearsals started happening.

I don’t even think I was mad at Jimmy anymore. I was just mad at myself. I felt like a complete idiot about the entire thing. I looked like a complete idiot too; I’d gotten into my dress and had my hair and makeup done and all, and I didn’t have a single second thought the entire time leading up to the actual ceremony. I really underestimated my naivety that day.

“Hey,” Trey hummed.

I sighed and looked at him. I didn’t tear up at all. I was just irritated. I felt sick and Trey wasn’t being helpful whatsoever.

I noticed his throat shift slightly as he swallowed. “We don’t have to dance,” he said softly. “It sucks that you have to kinda relive everything.”

“And everyone knows. Almost every single person here was invited to my wedding. It’s fucking embarrassing,” I said quietly. “And no one wants to bring it up because it’s old shit. It’s like I’m on a fucking island.”

Now I felt my throat tighten. I still felt safe with Trey. Thank God.

I wondered why Jimmy didn’t invite him to our wedding or ever have me meet him. Maybe they just weren’t in touch then.

There was a brief moment of silence where Trey sat, staring at me. I looked at him, and once our eyes met, he quickly averted his gaze down to his hands.

“My ex-fiance cheated on me,” he told me, giving me a small empathetic smile.

I swallowed as our eyes met again. I felt his warm hands gently take mine.

“With an a-capella singer,” he grimaced. “‘N I said, ‘Fuck you, Liane. I’m gonna make a movie because you cheated on me.’”

“You made a movie?” I repeated.

“Yeah, man. It’s totally sweet,” he laughed. “A humble prospector, Alferd Packer, and his party are led to certain doom by his disloyal horse, appropriately named Liane. It’s a musical.”

I shook my head, laughing.

“I have to humble myself sometimes, ‘cause if she didn’t cheat on me, I probably wouldn’t have my career,” he laughed sheepishly.

“And I’m here with my waitressing job while my sister’s out cutting Jennifer Aniston’s hair every month. And you’re a filmmaker,” I laughed, though there was nothing funny about anything I was saying.

“Well I think Jimmy’s an asshole anyway. Don’t tell him I said that,” he said, scooting closer to me again. His knees were now crazing mine.

I hummed, resting my head against my palm. Trey still held one of my hands, gently tracing over my knuckles with his thumb.

That’s when I heard Forever Young by Alphaville ring through the venue. Suddenly I was sent way the fuck back to my senior prom.

I gasped softly. I really did love this song. Even if I sat by myself in the corner, sipping on some sparkling beverage while I watched all my classmates with their dates.

Trey had become very invested in scraping a stain out of the pristine white tablecloth and seemed very shocked when he noticed me stand up.

“Up,” I said, flapping my hand to beckon him to join me. “Stand up. This is your one dance.”

I quickly slid my heels off and suddenly realized how tall Trey was. His hands tentatively slid onto my waist, holding me in place as I kicked off my second heel and held onto his shoulders.

My gaze had been focused on the floor and our feet, so my heart almost jumped out of my chest once I looked up at him and saw how close his face was to mine. I could see all of his freckles in the warm orange light of the tea candle a few feet away, accompanied by the occasional purple strobe from the dance floor.

Trey grinned, flashing his fang-like snaggletooth. He quickly smothered his smile however, instead pursing his lips together and swallowing harshly.

“Hi,” he hummed.

What a dork.

I subtly rolled my eyes. “Hi,” I said, trying not to smile at him. I could see his cheeks starting to turn a shade of pink. I guess it was kinda cute.

We started swaying, and Trey opted to hold one of my hands while his other held my waist, like a traditional ballroom dance. “You come around here often?” he said, smirking with raised eyebrows.

“No,” I giggled, swallowing.

“Me neither,” he whispered. I noticed his eyes dart down to look at my lips for a split second.

He swallowed again, gently intertwining his fingers with mine. I could barely breathe; my stomach was in knots and my heart was beating a million miles a minute. This was like my high school dream come true. I really felt like a teenager again. Just for a moment.

I looked down to make sure he wasn’t close to stepping on my toes. I decided to just stand on his feet instead, putting me up a little higher and infinitely closer to him.

“Did they play this at your senior prom?” I asked him softly.

“No,” he said, smiling. “Good thing, though. I’d be in shambles right now.”

“Why?”

“Guess who my date was,” he said.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “I didn’t have a date,” I told him.

“You do now,” he whispered.

I swallowed. Somehow Trey made me feel less alone than anyone else ever had in my entire life. I always felt alone when I was with Jimmy. We were really different.

I knew I was pretty… unconventional. Weird. Just really, really awkward all the time. I never really had anything to talk about unless it was something I was actually interested in, so small talk was a fucking nightmare for me. Trey made me feel so much more normal.

Trey cleared his throat, looking down as he leaned a little closer. “I haven’t gotten the chance to tell you how pretty you look tonight,” he whispered shyly.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

At that point, the song was unfortunately coming to a close. It was a short song. That was the worst part about it.

Trey and I just swayed back and forth, spinning around in a circle slowly to the pace of the song. Our eyes never left each other. Only after the song ended did he let go of my hand, a very sad look on his poor, sweet face.

I felt cold as I slipped out of his arms, my heart still racing from the adrenaline. Trey gave me a small smile and I backed away from him.

I looked away as I heard the crowd around the dance floor erupt in a fit of loud cheers for all the couples who danced together. It was startling and obnoxious. I fucking hate weddings.

“C’mere,” I heard Trey hum with a soft, mischievous grin on his face. One of his hands tenderly slid up to caress my cheek, while the other gently grasped my forearm. I let him pull me closer, knowing full well what he was about to do and welcoming it with open arms.

With racing hearts and withheld breaths, Trey and I came together in a slow, gentle kiss, like we were testing the waters. The hand he held my arm with quickly made its way up to my neck. His lips were warm and moved with care and patience. I didn’t hear or feel him breathing, until he let out the heaviest exhale he could muster after holding his breath. His body relaxed, bringing him even closer to me.

I pulled away, looking down at his chest. I swallowed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked nervously.

“I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again,” I whispered.

“Well… why not?” he asked again, his voice soft as a feather.

“I live in Seattle, Trey,” I told him, laughing sheepishly.

I watched his body deflate like he was defeated. His hands had left my face and now rested idly at his sides.

“I don’t care,” he whispered. “I’ll definitely see you again.”

“You realize that I am never going to visit my sister, right?” I laughed.

“You realize we both have phones, right?” he retorted, teasing me. “And cars?”

I shook my head. Whatever. I guess I could just enjoy the moment with him.

But I wanted to see him again. I wanted to see him tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. Nothing compared to the way he’d made me feel the past few days and I didn’t want that to be gone so soon.

“We’ll figure it out. I promise,” he whispered, softly kissing me again.

#i’m totally not projecting #i love trey #trey parker x reader #trey parker #fanfiction #fluff #matt stone #x reader #baseketball #fem reader #smut #cannibal the musical #mattrey #orgazmo #angst

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nox140497 · 22 days

Note

Hey I was wondering if I could request jacksepticeye with a gn ADHD reader who

Self medicates using weed?

If not that then maybe him and reader gaming (on or off YouTube)

Idk I just want some fluff lol

Thank you for the request!

I'm so sorry this took so long life's been a bit hectic lately.

Also I'm not sure if this is what you were thinking and if its not I'm sorry

I hope you like

ADHD

Request: yes

Prompt: no

Prompt number: none

Summery: How Sean and his partner who has ADHD and smoking weed.

Pairings: Sean McLoughlin x gn reader

Masterlist

Prompt List

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

Sean sat across from Y/N at the tiny kitchen table of their equally tiny apartment, watching as Y/N's fingers danced restlessly on the Formica surface. The late afternoon light cast a warm, golden glow over their mismatched mugs, one a gift from an old high school friend, the other a souvenir from a long-forgotten vacation. The apartment itself was a testament to their mismatched lives; a jumble of bright colors and eclectic knickknacks that somehow managed to mesh into a cozy, lived-in space.

It was a Tuesday, and Sean had taken the day off from work to spend some quality time with Y/N. He knew that Y/N had been feeling a bit down lately, struggling with the constant restlessness and distraction that came with their ADHD. But lately, it seemed like something else was bothering Y/N as well. Something Sean couldn't quite put his finger on.

He glanced at the half-empty pack of cigarettes on the counter, knowing that Y/N had been smoking more than usual. Not that Sean minded; he'd long ago grown accustomed to the smell of tobacco in their clothes and hair. In fact, sometimes it even reminded him of their first date, when they'd shared a cigarette outside the dingy bar where they'd met. But something about the way Y/N was holding the pack now, the way they seemed to be avoiding his gaze, made him uneasy.

"You know," Sean began tentatively, trying to broach the subject without sounding accusatory, "I've been noticing that you've been smoking more lately." He paused, waiting for a reaction.

Y/N's fingers stilled for a moment before resuming their restless dance. "Yeah," they mumbled, not making eye contact. "I guess I have." There was a long silence as they both sipped their tea. Sean could feel the tension building in the air, like a storm gathering on the horizon.

"Look," Sean said finally, setting his mug down with a quiet clink, "I just want you to know that I'm here for you, you know? Whatever's going on, we can talk about it." Y/N glanced up at him then, their eyes meeting for the first time in minutes. There was a vulnerability there that Sean hadn't seen in a long time, and it broke something loose inside him.

"It's just...," Y/N began, hesitating before continuing, "I feel like I can't focus without it. Like I'm always going a million miles an hour, and smoking slows me down just enough to keep from crashing." Sean reached across the table, taking Y/N's hand in his own, feeling the warmth and the tremors of emotion beneath the skin.

"I get that," he said gently. "But we can find other ways to help with that, you know? We don't have to rely on smoking." The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning and the weight of their shared history. For a moment, they sat there, holding hands, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.

As the sun dipped below the horizon outside their tiny window, Sean knew that they had a long road ahead of them. But for now, he was content to sit with Y/N in this small, intimate space, feeling the connection between them grow stronger with every passing moment.

"Hey," he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "why don't we try going for a walk after dinner? Maybe get some fresh air, talk about some of these feelings you've been having?" Y/N smiled back at him, the first genuine smile Sean had seen in days. "That sounds nice," they said, squeezing his hand.

Together, they finished their tea and gathered up their trash, throwing it away in the small, creaky garbage can by the kitchen sink. As they walked into the living room to turn on the TV, Sean couldn't help but feel a sense of hope and optimism growing inside him. Perhaps, together, they could find a way to navigate this new chapter in their lives, and come out stronger on the other side.

He glanced over at Y/N, who was already fidgeting with the remote control, their fingers moving in a dance that was both familiar and comfort

#jacksepticeye #sean mcloughlin #youtube #jacksepticeye x reader #jacksepticeye x you

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skinandscales-if · 9 months

Note

Maybe Reese and 'there is a prayer in me still' ?

If that prompt tickles your fancy for him.

Atlas | Skye | Puck

⎯

“Think that’s bullshit.”

Your head perks up as you shoot a sidelong glance at Reese, the man seated beside you trying to cover his hand to save the flame dying on his fingers. He’s been trying to light that blasted cigarette for what feels like minutes now. It’s probably only been a few moments, but everything feels much longer when you’re on stakeout like this. The rooftop isn’t exactly the most pleasant position to find yourself in this late at night, the cold air nips a little too harshly at your nose, and the unforgiving edge of the flat apartment roof smells uncannily like fish. You wrinkle your nose a bit. Maybe that’s why Reese is still trying to light the cigarette— to drown out the smells. You don’t know if the smell of smoke is going to help much, though.

“What?” You ask, lifting your head a bit in his direction in order to prompt him to continue. He takes the bait easily, one leg swung over the edge of the roof. Both of yours hang off, turned away from him still though you’re staring at him now.

“‘God makes this go faster.’ That’s what you said, right?” He responds, shrugging his shoulders as his words slur slightly with the cigarette still firmly lodged between his teeth. You catch a flash of his sharp canines. “Think that’s bullshit. No god can speed up time— don’t even really think they’d notice it passing.”

You raise your eyebrows a bit at him now. This certainly came out of left field.

“Where’d this come from?” You ask, huffing out a breath that you meant to sound like a laugh. It doesn’t, but you’re not in the mood to put any fake effort into it. “Midnight stakeouts make you philosophical or something now?”

Reese spares a glance up at you for a moment, shooting you one of his classic ‘you’re so stupid I don’t even have time to explain it to you’ looks. He snorts and a bit of smoke dissipates in the air in front of you from his nostrils.

“I’m just making conversation. You’re the one filling the space with stupid shit.”

You frown a bit at that.

“I’m sorry, do you have something more important to add?” You snap back, eye twitching a bit as you swallow down your frustration just as quickly, looking away. This isn’t going to get you anywhere. But surprisingly, Reese doesn’t snap back right away. You glance back at him and he’s given up on his cigarette, the thing now twiddling between his fingers as he stares off ahead of you, at some distant horizon between the tops of the buildings and the darkened sky. The silence between you two isn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it doesn’t sit quite right with you. You don’t know if that’s on him or you.

“Do you believe in that crap?” He voices again, voice a bit quieter now, though it still holds that sting at the end, like some kind of shy scorpion.

“What?” You ask again, before quirking a brow at him. “God?”

He nods quietly. You sigh, turning to look at the same great beyond he is. You wish you could see whatever answers he’s searching for out there. Maybe then it’d be easier for you two to just… talk. You don’t know.

“Kind of a big question, huh?” You reply with a small scoff that isn’t directed towards anyone. You chew on your cheek for a bit. “Why do you ask?”

This time, Reese adjusts himself in his seat, slinging his other leg over the edge so he turns away from you. Despite the distancing, he lowers his head and begins to fiddle with the cigarette again. You’ve been around him long enough to know the tells. He’s nervous. Well— maybe not nervous per se, but certainly thinking about something.

“I don’t know. Just been on my mind, I think.” He sighs and it feels heavy. You don’t interrupt. “I’ve spent a lot of my life wanting to believe something like it is true. Not many signs, though.”

It’s your turn to pause now. You glance from him to the sky again, gaze turning higher upwards now. It’s harder to make out the stars out here in the city. But if you peer hard enough, you can still spot the flickers of white spattered gently across the expanse that seems to tumble on towards infinity. You smile a bit.

“I think it’s kind of silly to go looking for signs. Puts a lot of pressure on you to make it real. Besides, they’re probably busy. Time wouldn’t mean much to them, remember?” You chuckle, the cold air feeling a bit less biting now as you take a deep breath. There’s another beat of silence. When you look back to Reese, he’s staring back at you. You expect him to break the moment, but he doesn’t, staring at you like you just said something more meaningful than you believe you actually did. He smirks a bit, then laughs back softly.

“Maybe there’s a prayer in me yet.”

#prompts #s&s: reese #asks #cw: smoking #sorry this one took so long lol #considering this one the final installment to that particular prompt list!#jazz hands supriseeee #reese has a complicated view on religion yippie #✌️just shit the bed in an interview so finally posting this #also the tickles your fancy phrase is so funny to me you’re great anon

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beanghostprincess · 7 months

Note

I can't really decide if Usopp would hate Sanji's smoking habit or simply not care.

I mean it would be funny that he hides and throws away his boyfriend's cigarettes to the point where Sanji has to hide his cigarettes from Usopp so he doesn't hide them from him and the way Usopp just visually coughs any time he smells the slightest bit of smoke from him (or anywhere honestly, he's a bit of a drama queen) to make him at least a bit embarrassed (failed miserably) or when all of Sanji's hidden goods are suddenly gone in the middle of the sea (which may or may not be his boyfriend's doing) and they weren't going to arrive to any island for a few days so he had to hold onto the two little stumps he had left and just going into a straight up withdrawal and asking everyone if they smoked and falling into deeper desperation each time he heard a "no" and how Usopp would mock him and tell him "That's what you get, loser" and yes this is kind of cruel but he has no business smoking 24/7 killing his lungs like that he basically smells of smoke and I'm sure even tastes like smoke and I do not want to even think of the effect it has on his teeth.

Fun fact, my brother and I used to do that (throwing away my mom's cigarettes) so she stopped smoking. Well, my brother did that so she would stop smoking. I did that only to fuck with her, ngl.

And okay, this whole concept is extremely hilarious because I just got another ask talking about Usopp smoking and Sanji finding out casually and it's just,,, So funny. But I like both concepts a lot!! This one feels so funny to talk about and extremely canon, too. (OP's future note: I made this sad. I am sorry)

Like Usopp would hate Sanji smoking this much, right? He doesn't hate that he smokes (they're pirates and can do whatever they want, so of course he won't be telling him to stop smoking) but he hates that he does it constantly. All the time. He's fucking up his lungs and also the whole ship smells like cigarettes and his clothes too and Usopp is sick of trying to kiss him and tasting that in his mouth. And it's not THAT disgusting because Usopp is used to it and, after all, it's what reminds him of Sanji. It's a Sanji thing. But he's worried about his well-being and he wishes Sanji would at least only smoke like 2 cigarettes a day and not a whole fucking pack.

So he asks Chopper for advice because he's the doctor here and will probably know what to do when it comes to an addiction like this one. Chopper tells him that the only way to end an addiction is to go through a process of either gradually quitting or just directly stopping, but the latter might have more side effects due to the need to smoke all the time. After all, it is a drug.

But of course, Usopp is a drama queen and he goes all in with this elaborate plan to throw away all the cigarettes Sanji has and is all dramatic when he smokes close to him. Which is- Okay, I am actually not on Usopp's side here so I'm gonna make it a bit angsty. I am evil. *Evil laughter*.

Usopp keeps doing that every time he finds Sanji's cigarettes and whenever they go to an island and he tries to buy them. Sanji has been smoking less and less and less because he doesn't have any cigarettes left and it's driving him insane. Like- It's genuinely affecting him badly and Usopp is too caught up in his own morals and trying to be the good boyfriend he thinks he's being to realize that.

Sanji can't sleep well anymore. He's eating more because he has cravings he didn't have before. He's more anxious and way more irritable, which only makes him fight Zoro constantly (more than usual. Imagine the chaos). He can't even concentrate when cooking. And tbh his intrusive thoughts are coming back because what helped him concentrate and avoid them was smoking and doing something with his hands (why do you think he smokes so much??? That's his unhealthy coping mechanism, your honor).

And Usopp tries to act like everything is normal and like he's doing a good thing because he has no idea what Sanji is going through. He thinks it's just a lil punishment that won't last long. But it does last. And it is affecting Sanji a lot. And of course, the cook ends up snapping because there's no fucking way he can handle this anymore. And it's out of nowhere (from Usopp's perspective) because Sanji is just trying to cook and Usopp is on the kitchen table doing his own thing with his bombs. And he's making noises, but just the usual ones. The ones Sanji has never complained about. But it's bothering the cook anyway, for once, and it drives him wild to the point of turning around and yelling:

"Could you stop doing that?!"

"Wha- Doing what?"

"The little clingclingcling the fucking explosions your humming just- Shut up! I'm trying to cook for this whole crew and you're making it pretty fucking impossible!"

"You never had a problem with me being here before."

"I never had a problem with you at all before, so I guess there's a first time for everything!"

"... Are you alright, Sanji?"

"Oh! Why wouldn't I be, Usopp? I'm perfectly fine. Awesome, even. Since I quit smoking everything has been perfect!"

"Really?"

"Of course not, you moron! I've never been more fucked up in my whole life, why would you do this to me? Did- Did I hurt you somehow? Is this a punishment? Karma? What do you want from me? I'll do it, just- Stop this."

"Sanji, honey, I'm just doing this for your own good because-"

"For MY own good? Are you sure about that, Usopp? MY own good? Who do you think you are to decide that for me?"

"I don't know, your boyfriend, maybe?!"

"Usopp. I- I love you, okay? But you're making it really, really hard for me not to say some things I- Smoking is what keeps me going, Usopp, I can't quit it-"

"Of course you can! You stopped smoking a week ago-"

"And it has been the worst week of my entire life, Usopp. You can't just decide this for me I- This is what makes me feel I have control over my life! It's not the best but it's what I have and we're supposed to be pirates, don't we? Let me-"

"What? Let you fuck up your lungs only because it makes you feel a bit better? You'll die way before that!"

"But it's up to me to decide!"

"When you have people that love you, it's not up to you to decide if you die or not! You're always doing this! You did this in Skypiea and Whole Cake and- And you take so little care of yourself I had to do something!"

"Well, it's not working! You could've talked to me, maybe?!"

"You never listen!"

"Because you never talk! Why would you do this-"

"Because I'm in love with you and I don't want you to die! If you feel bad, you come to me. You don't need to destroy your lungs when I'm right here! You're not alone anymore, Sanji!"

"..."

"I just care about you, okay? I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done this without asking and I didn't know it would make you feel this bad but- But I just care about you and I understand if you want to break up-"

"I don't want to break up with you, dumbass. I just- Let me do this my own way? Stop smoking, I mean- I- I'm sorry, too. I just really need to. To stop thinking for a while."

"... I didn't throw away all your cigarettes. I still have a few I haven't-"

"No. No, mon coeur. Just- Do you want to go fish? Or- What new bombs were you making? Tell me about them. I'll probably have that cigarette later, though."

And then Chopper scolds Usopp for his behavior (of fucking course) because you can't just stop smoking suddenly like that. And Sanji starts smoking again but less and less every day with Usopp keeping an eye on him! I am very sad now after writing this! I'm gonna go cry! <3

#i love angst #i am in an angsty mood today i apologize #but happy ending! yay!#one piece #black leg sanji #usopp #sanuso

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fivedayslater · 11 months

Text

Part 16: Talk to Luffy

Dinner and a Murder: A Mr. Prince Mystery Masterpost

“Let’s talk to Luffy again,” Sanji says, “That blood trail is pretty suspicious, and I want to get to the bottom of it. Besides, knowing more about the house can’t hurt.”

Usopp laughs, “Did Zoro tell you his room moving theory?”

“He did,” Sanji confirms, “But that’s not why.”

He’s surprised Zoro didn’t protest them teasing his insane room moving theory, but when he looks back at him, he’s staring at something under the table.

“Uh, so,” Zoro looks up at him, a frown on his face and a waver to his voice that has Sanji on edge, “Remember when we talked about how I should give you every clue, even if it makes me look guilty?”

“You mean the discussion we had five minutes ago?” Sanji frowns too, not liking where this is going, “Yes, why?”

“Well, uh,” Zoro gestures under the table, “I found my knife.”

Sanji is immediately on his knees to take a closer look. Sure enough, there under the table is Zoro’s knife, the blade covered in blood all the way to the hilt.

Usopp gasps from where he’s leaning over the table to take a look, his head snapping up to look at Zoro, “No way…Zoro did you…?”

“I didn’t,” Zoro insists, looking imploringly at Sanji, “I didn’t stab anyone, least of all Ace.”

Sanji grabs an empty plastic bag from his pocket and uses it to pick up the knife, sealing it shut as he stands up. When it’s secure, he turns to face Zoro, “So, your knife was missing when we asked about it before. Do you know when you lost it?”

“No,” Zoro growls as he looks away. A sudden thought comes to him, his face lighting up as he turns back, “But I know who took it. Nami has a habit of stealing my knife just to prove she can, and hiding it for me to find. I’m willing to bet that she did tonight too.”

“Well, I can at least confirm that Nami has a habit of stealing Zoro’s knife,” Usopp nods, “It’s her favorite hobby.”

“So,” Sanji frowns as he takes that in, “you’re saying Nami had your knife?”

“At some point probably,” Zoro shrugs, “If she did get around to hiding it, anyone could have found it.”

“Which brings us back to square one,” he groans and rubs his temple, “Again.”

“We must be at square two by now,” Zoro smirks, “At least square one and three fourths.”

Sanji chuckles at that, the little joke making him feel more at ease.

“Well, we can’t officially get to square two here,” he says as he puts the bag with the knife in his pocket, “Let’s go find Luffy.” He turns back to Usopp, “You said he was in the lounge?”

“That’s where he said he was going,” he confirms with a nod, “What do you want me to do?”

“Stay here and don’t move.”

“Right,” he gave him a salute, “Can do.”

Sure enough, Luffy is there when they get to the lounge, using his tongue to fish out an ice cube of what looks like a glass of cola. The fire is much lower than it was earlier in the night, but the smoky smell still permeates the room.

The smell reminds him of something else, but he can’t quite place it right now.

Luffy looks up when they enter the room, and smiles wide, “Hey, Sanji! Zoro! There you are!”

“And here you are,” Sanji glares at him, “I told you to stay in the dining room.”

Luffy shrugs, “I got bored. Sorry.”

“Whatever,” Sanji sighs as he rubs a hand down his face, “Listen, we found some blood trails that suggest that Nami’s body was moved, but only from the corner of the kitchen to the center.”

“Wow,” Luffy just stares at him, “You found out she was killed in the corner? You’re really good at this.”

“What I found was she wasn’t killed in the corner,” Sanji says as he lights a cigarette.

“What?” Luffy’s eyes go wide, “Really?”

“We’re wondering if there’s any quirks about the house that would lead to that,” Zoro says, “Like with the rooms moving around thing.”

Luffy laughs at that, “The rooms don’t move, Zoro, you just can’t find them.”

Zoro scowls, his face going bright red, and Sanji can’t help but laugh.

“But, seriously,” Sanji turns back to Luffy, “It strikes me as weird that her body was moved from the corner, and I can’t quite figure it out. Can you tell us anything about the house to explain it.”

Luffy hums as he thinks about it, and crunches on some ice. After a moment he sits up and says, “Oh, she might have come from the secret passage.”

Sanji almost drops his cigarette in shock, “What secret passage?”

“The house has a few secret passages,” he explains, “One between here and the conservatory, and another between the kitchen and the study.”

Luffy stands up and walks over to the corner between the fireplace and the door. He presses against an engraving on the fireplace, and sure enough a door swings open in the wall.

Sanji and Zoro approach the opening cautiously and peek inside. There’s a small staircase inside leading towards what looks like a dark tunnel heading towards the other side of the house.

“What the hell,” Zoro mutters right next to his ear, then turns to Luffy, “How long has this been here?”

“It’s always been here,” Luffy shrugs, “I always thought it was cool, but I don’t get to use them that often. The staff does sometimes to move around quicker, but never at night. It gets too dark.”

Sanji checks the floor of the passage. It’s pretty dusty, but he does notice fresh tracks in the dirt, indicating someone passing through recently, “Did the staff use it this morning?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Luffy frowns as he thinks about it, “Mostly they were in the kitchen and the dining room, so there wasn’t a need.”

Sanji points out the marks, “It looks like someone was in here recently.”

“Wow, really?” Luffy leans over his shoulder to take a closer look, “What does that mean?”

Sanji takes a hit from his cigarette as he thinks about it, his gaze landing on Zoro, “You said you found the letter in the conservatory, right?”

“Yeah,” he nods, brow furrowing as he looks back at him, “Why?”

“I’m just wondering how it got there,” he nods at the passageway, “If someone used the passage here to move between the lounge and the conservatory, it’s possible they had the letter and dropped it. Where exactly did you find it?”

“In the corner,” Zoro’s eyes widen as he glances at the passage, “Is that where the passage leads out?”

“Yup,” Luffy nods, “All the passages are in a corner of the room.

“So, in the kitchen,” Sanji puffs on his cigarette as he remembers the layout of the room, “does it let out in the far corner past the fridge?”

“Yeah,” he nods again, then his eyes go wait, “Wait, is that where you found the blood?”

Sanji nods, and Luffy gasps, “No way!”

“So you think someone moved Nami from the study to the kitchen?” Zoro asks as he leans against the wall.

“Or they were trying to move her to the study but didn’t quite make it,” he sighs, releasing a stream of smoke in the air, “Either way, it’s clear the secret passage was involved in some way.”

He turns back to Luffy, “Who else knew about the secret passages?”

“Uh, I think everyone knew,” he shrugs.

“I didn’t know,” Zoro huffs, disputing him instantly.

“And I didn’t know either,” Sanji agrees, “So who do you know knows about them?”

“Me, Ace,” Luffy counts off on his fingers, “the staff obviously, Nami probably because she knows – knew, everything.” His face scrunches up as he thinks some more, but eventually he shakes his head and sighs, “And if you guys didn’t know about it, then I’m not sure if Usopp or Law did either.”

“So we know Nami’s killer is someone who knew about the secret passages,” Zoro says with a quick glance to Sanji, “Right?”

“Exactly right,” Sanji confirms with a nod, feeling a little giddy at the proud smile on Zoro’s face when he does.

“Wait,” Luffy’s smile slips from his face as he glances between the two of them, “Just because I knew doesn’t mean I killed Nami.”

“We’re not saying you did,” Sanji assures him, “We’re just saying that whoever did did.”

“Well, I didn’t kill Nami,” he insists, crossing his arms in front of him.

“Noted,” Sanji says as he puts his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray, “Well, Mosshead, shall we do more investigating?”

Zoro’s grin is wide on his face, “I thought you’d never ask.”

They both head for the door, but stop when Luffy says, “Wait a moment.”

Sanji turns to look at him, and he’s still got that pinched frown on his face as he says, “I just remembered something. About the blackout I mean.”

Sanji frowns as he considers his options. If he hadn’t mentioned it before, it could just be more of Luffy insisting he didn’t do it, and they really didn’t have time to waste on that right now, but it could be something important that he did just remember.

He glances at Zoro, who’s looking at him expectantly.

#fanfic #opfanfic #Sanji #op Sanji #Sanji one piece #zosan #SanZo #Zoro x Sanji #Sanji x Zoro #one piece #polls #poll fic #choose your own adventure fic

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arts-and-drafts · 9 months

Text

Ugly Things (Dream SMP)

(In which Tommy and Wilbur have a fight. I've always been morbidly captivated by Pogtopia and the stress it put on everybody involved before the 16th, so this is a little 'what-if' writing exercise of a night that may or may not have occurred :) enjoy!)

CWs: Smoking, mentions of violence

Tommy wakes himself up by coughing.

There's a disgusting itch in the back of his throat, and his sinuses are filled with tobacco stench. Bleary irritation spurs him to get out of bed, his body protesting every movement.

Tommy has gotten very little sleep since making Pogtopia their base, and every time he wakes up he is sore from the thin mattress barely making the stone floor any more comfortable.

All this to say he treasures any sleep that he can get, and he is pissed as hell that he's woken from it.

He knows without needing to check that the source of the smoke is Wilbur. Tommy sets off to find him.

It's not exactly hard; Pogtopia is remarkably simple once you know your way around, and there's only a few places you can go for privacy.

Just as he suspected, he finds Wilbur in the farthest side of the ravine by the nether portal, absently smoking a cigarette as he stares into the purple gateway. Tommy pulls his shirt up over his nose in disgust.

"I thought you said you were gonna quit."

Wilbur startles, and turns. His face is gaunt and shadowed in the faint glow of the portal.

"What are you doing up?" Wilbur ignores Tommy's statement. His voice is scratchy and hoarse. Tommy scowls.

"The fuckin' smell woke me up, dickhead." Tommy grumbles. "The portal isn't like a window."

"Sorry." Wilbur says. He doesn't sound sorry at all. "I can't exactly go outside."

"You could not smoke." Tommy presses, irritable. It's too fucking early for this.

Wilbur's face is a mask of indifference. Tommy knows it's a mask, because he knows Wilbur. To anyone else, it would be a real expression. Real apathy.

Tommy knows that it's hiding something.

"It helps me." Wilbur says. It's a conversation they have had a million times over. Tommy narrows his eyes.

"Well, it hurts me." Tommy snaps, the last of his sentence petering into a cough. Wilbur's face goes stony.

"You'll be fine. Go back to sleep, Tommy."

Somehow the words snap Tommy right awake.

Maybe it's built up anger that makes Tommy summon his water bucket from his inventory. Maybe it's misdirected grief at the fact that they're hiding in this shitty fucking ravine in the first place. Maybe it's a lot of things.

Whatever the reason really is doesn't matter. Tommy still throws the water on Wilbur before the man can register the action.

Wilbur finally shows real emotion in the form of sputtering and stumbling, nearly tripping back through the portal.

His cigarette is out, and his glare is piercing hatred. Tommy meets it unflinchingly.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" Wilbur yells. His voice is grating and cracks with emotion, and it riles Tommy up in turn.

"You told me you fucking quit!!" Tommy yells back, raising his voice to match Wilbur's. Their shouts echo off the walls until their voices are just ringing noise in his ears.

"Fucking Christ, Tommy, that doesn't mean you get to waterboard me!!" Wilbur screams. He's pissed good and proper, like Tommy knew he would be.

"'Go back to sleep, you'll be fine.'" Tommy throws Wilbur's words back at him with a sneer, and Wilbur throws back his fist.

Tommy flinches before his mind catches up with what the hell Wilbur just did. For a fleeting second, Wilbur's face displays raw emotion; horror, then anger, then finally settles back into the mask.

Wilbur lowers his arm with a practiced breath, and without another word, turns and walks right through the portal. Tommy is alone, and suddenly extremely aware of how he positioned his bucket like a shield in that split second of reaction.

Against his brother. His brother, who had never before come that close to hitting him in earnest.

Tommy's eyes sting horribly, and he fights back tears in favor for stomping back to his bed. He isn't fucking sorry. Wilbur was the one being a goddamn asshole.

Tommy throws his bucket to the ground as hard as he can, and then kicks it away for good measure. The clanging echoes up the unforgiving stone walls, mocking him. They look like teeth in the torchlight, as if the ravine is just a gaping maw waiting to swallow him whole.

He feels an ugly thing in his chest that he knows he needs to cry out, but he won't give Wilbur that fucking satisfaction. Instead, he throws himself onto his mattress, wincing at how the stone floor digs into him like the padding isn't even there.

Wilbur is gone for a long time. Tommy pretends to be asleep when he finally hears the man come back through the portal, and listens for his breathing until it's evened out into sleep.

Wilbur is still pissed off from the night before, obviously.

But he wakes up to find his and Tommy's mattresses pressed together, and his previous anger sticks in his throat.

He doesn't throw away his cigarettes.

END.

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the-witch-of-one-piece · 2 years

Note

Hihi!!! All the fluffy October prompts sound so damn cute can I please request the cold weather prompt with Sanji?

Hello Anon hun! Awww, thank you!!! :D Yes of course I will gladly do this for you, my dear!!! I hope you enjoy!

TW: none

WC: 500

Rubbing your hands together trying to get them warm as you made your way to the kitchen, you could smell whatever Sanji was making and it smelled divine. When you open the door a rush of warmth comes through and you see Sanji taking out something from the oven. “It feels so good here.” you closed the door. Your cold cheeks and fingers tips began to warm up. Taking a seat at the table. “Must be cold if you're saying that.” he smiled when you saw him going into the cabinet grabbing a cup. He filled it with a warm beverage to bring it over to you. “Thank you.” your fingertips touching the warm mug noticing it was a bit hot. “Be careful not to burn your tongue, it's hot.” Sanji taking a seat next to you, he began to light another cigarette. “You and those cancer sticks.” cocking your brow at him, giving him a smirk.

“I know I know.” he lit the cigarette, “but it's too damn hard to quit.” “I’m just teasin you.” Bringing the cup closer to your lips, you give it a blow to try to cool it down before taking a drink, “ this is really good.” you took another drink. “Only the best for you _____.” Sanji spoke grinning over at you

After about an hour he was finished cooking. You were helping him with the tray of food bringing it out to the deck. The rest of the straw hats began to attack the food when it was placed down. Sanji sees you rubbing your hands together trying to keep warm once again. He walked towards you wrapping his hands around your waist, his head resting on top of yours. “When every jacket fails you have no fear the boyfriend is to warm you up!” you giggled. You could feel him chuckle. “Warmer I presume?”

“Oh yeah, I can't wait till we get to warmer weather, hopefully it will be soon.” you responded to him. “I wouldn’t mind it being his cold for a moment just because we can share one another’s body heat.” Sanji spoke in a soothing tone. “You have a point there. The more reason to cuddle at night and to be in your arms.” You added. Some of the other crew members heard the chatting among you both “You guys are so cute!” Nami shouted at you both. Both of you looked over at some of the crew grinning at you both. “Get a room no one wants to see that.” Zoro taking a drink of his sake.

“Shut it mosshead!” Sanji hissed at Zoro. “Just because you haven’t found someone,” he added. “Easy stallion, no need to bite his head off this time.” you turned around facing him, you caught his full attention. “Besides, if we get a room we might not be seen for the rest of the night.”

Sanji's cheeks began to glow a big “that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

#sanji x you #black leg sanji #shokugeki no sanji #blackleg sanji #op sanji #vinsmoke sanji #strawhats #one piece x reader insert #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #the witch of one piece #one piece #fluffy october #fluffy event

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mlmxreader · 2 years

Text

Sacred and Sanctified | Steve Murphy x m!reader (🍋)

Anonymous asked: "Would you lie if you said you cared about me?" And "I‘m trying to work, can you not?" for our boy Steef Murf x male reader?

I feel like he’d struggle with coming to terms with his queerness at first, so he hooks up with the reader to sort of test it out. Only problem is they work together and they’re both catching feelings for each other. Steve just kind of struggles to express those feelings a bit more than the reader.

summary: you and Steve have always gotten along, but when he starts to explore his sexuality, the relationship between you starts to change.

tws: anal sex, swearing, religious imagery, biting, spanking, choking, smoking, praise

word count: 2002

You and Steve had always gotten along well, even before you had joined him and his partner - Javier - in Columbia, you had always gotten along well; a professional at dealing with exotic animals, you were asked by the DEA to aid with the Escobar case, specifically, and you were brought in to work directly with Steve and Javier - but while they spent most of their days chasing drug dealers and going on wild goose chases, you often spent the time working with local exotic dealers and seeing if there was anything trafficked that might have helped with their case. Ball pythons didn’t mean shit, you were told to go after the bigger and more obvious of exotic animals - still, you kept one of them. He was a yellow-y colour with brown and black splodges, around three foot long and weighing almost an entire kilogram, you kept that little ball python the very second that you had found him; naming him ‘Der Rote Kampfflieger’, after an axis fighter pilot from the first world war. He was a friendly little thing, often slithering onto your arm when you sat on your bed to go through case files. He was your pride and joy, really.

But around two weeks after you had gotten him, you got a somewhat troubling phone call from Steve, who had begged you to see him in the middle of the night, and while you thought it was probably just him finding something in a photograph or in one of the many files, something didn’t sit quite right with you if you were honest. Some shit smelled differently than others, and this didn’t smell right. Still, you let him come over and you let him sit with your ball python on his arm as he gently ran his fingers up and down the animal’s thick body while it sat there quite happily.

“I think I might be queer,” Steve said after some time, watching you make yourself coffee and grab the packet of cigarettes that you kept in the cupboard. He swallowed thickly, hands starting to shake. “Did you hear me?”

You nodded, scratching your shoulder for a second before you finally turned to him and shrugged. “Yeah, I heard you… you don’t think it’s gonna be a problem with me or something, do you?”

He rested his hand on the middle third of the python’s body, trying not to smile when it flicked its tongue against his skin, tickling him a little. “I dunno, I don’t even know if I am.”

You chucked the cigarettes on the table, and picked the python back up before taking it back to its tank, making sure to lock the glass before you gestured for Steve to follow you out onto the balcony; you lit two cigarettes, and handed one to him before you cleared your throat and looked at him. “Are you attracted to men?”

“I, I think so,” he said quietly, thinking of all those times that he had checked out your ass, focused more on your bare biceps than whatever animal you were holding, how he would swallow thickly and feel hot under the collar whenever your shirt was soaked in sweat and you were smoking a cigarette. He thought of all the times when he had looked at you for a little longer than he should have, and how when he saw you and Javier laughing together and getting a little physical whilst messing around that he had felt such awful jealousy, such disgusting and vile jealousy that made him want to tear you apart. Maybe he was attracted to men.

“Do you wanna fuck men?” You asked, and such a question he had expected to hear from Javier, not you. “Steve?”

“I wanna try it,” he admitted. “Yeah.”

You smiled, taking his hand and tilting your head to the side. “Do you wanna try it with me?”

Steve could only nod in response, letting you pull him in close as his breath hitched in his throat and his gaze dropped to your lips for a moment, swallowing thickly as he brought one hand to your throat, daring to wrap his hand around it as he refused to wait and crashed his lips against yours; you smiled, lacing your other hand in his hair and letting go of his hand, daring to grab his belt as you kept him so fucking close. Fuck, his kiss was like no other, and you couldn’t help but to moan when he dared to back you up against the doors, pressing you against them as he dared to slip his tongue between your lips, just to hear those fucking precious moans once more.

It was like something divine had struck Steve, if he was honest, the feeling of something other than lust growing in his stomach as he took charge, putting pressure on your throat and planting his forearm beside your head, cold glass so good against his hot skin; it was as if he had never experienced anything holy before this. Before the feeling of your lips on his and your jagged breaths mixing with his own, his hands shaking just a little. All his sins had been forgiven, repented for, with just one kiss. You were a fucking Saint.

A fucking Saint.

When you pulled away, Steve felt the weight of his sins come crashing down upon his shoulders, and he sighed as he licked his lips, just to savour the taste of yours; he didn't want to touch you again, for fear that his touch would shatter you. Corrupt you. Make you unholy. But he yearned to go down on his knees for you, to pray to you and to pray that you would take away all of his sins once more; just one more kiss to rid him of every sin he had ever committed.

“Steve,” you whispered, and he couldn’t ignore the way that his name sounded like the most sacred of prayers coming from your mouth, like it had suddenly become sanctified just because it had come from your lips. “Do you wanna go through with this?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied softly, “really, I’m sure - I want to, if you do.”

You moaned softly against the pillow as Steve pounded into you, your ass covered in handprints and bite marks, skin littered with the imprint of his teeth from the shoulders down, so fucking close as Steve dared to praise you; he wanted to worship you, to make you feel as holy as he knew that you were, he wanted to make you his, to claim you as his own personal deity. To give you that divinity he knew you deserved. To bless and possess you as much as he could; when he finally pushed you over the edge, he couldn’t help it - you called his name like it was the most sacred thing in the world, like you had never experienced something so holy and so divine in your life. Steve couldn’t help it as he came right after you, hearing you call his name like that was too much, and when he started to fuck his cum into your ass, he couldn’t ignore the way that you squirmed and moaned his name again so softly, asking him to keep going until he really was finished; until he had to pull out and he rounded the bed, kneeling beside you and clearing his throat.

“That, uhm, that wasn’t too rough, was it?”

“Nah,” you chuckled, licking your lips and smiling at him. “How’d you find your first experiment?”

Steve shrugged, leaving you for a moment to go and run the shower, but when he came back, he sighed. “Can we do it again?”

You nodded, humming softly. “Yeah, of course.”

It went on like that for a while, Steve using you as his own personal experiment to test whether or not he really was queer, and while he knew after the second night together that he really was, there was something new for him to tackle: his feelings for you.

You, so holy and so blessed, able to sanctify him with just a smile; and he was just a lowly sinner begging for a piece of your divinity. For you to cleanse him of every sin he had ever committed. To make him a Saint even though he knew that with every touch he offered, you would slowly become corrupted, unholy. Because of him.

Long nights at the office together after everybody had left, going through files and files and stacks of photographs, started to feel more and more like he was attending prayer within a holy building; to be sat beside such a Saint, with his hand on your thigh, able to hear the soft sighs coming from the back of your throat as you grew more and more tired. When you leaned against him, half-asleep and hardly able to keep your eyes open, Steve couldn’t help but to stiffen up a little, growling softly under his breath as he clenched his jaw; to have such a Saint so close to him, pressed against his side as he tried to focus on his work, tried to focus on getting the long night through with… but he couldn’t ignore you.

“I’m trying to work, can you not?”

“Not what?” You asked with a raised brow, your voice almost slurring softly as you got up and stretched, a yawn escaping you as you shook your head.

“Lean against me like that,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “It’s distracting.”

Purposefully, you draped yourself across his lap, looking at him with a cheeky smile as he shook his head again, still clenching his jaw; but then you smiled, and suddenly Steve couldn’t deny that you were absolutely the most holy person in the world. “Is this any better?”

Steve glared at you for a moment, but the second that you laced your fingers with his, pulling his hand onto your chest, his breath hitched in his throat, and he couldn’t deny that you really were, above all else, a Saint. His glare softened, and he ran his other hand down his face. “Slightly… are you comfortable?”

“Incredibly,” you grinned. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” he swallowed thickly, his heart thundering in his chest. “Would, uh, would you lie if you said you cared about me? I mean, if someone asked you if you cared… would you lie?”

“No,” you shook your head, bringing his hand to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles as you hummed softly. “No, I wouldn’t lie - would you?”

“I…” he shrugged. “It’s…”

“You don’t have to say it,” you started, “really, you don’t have to say a damn thing. You don’t. It’s… we can just keep messing around and not say a damn thing, if that’s… what you want.”

Who could he fool? Every time he had sat down with Connie since that first night, she had told him that he really, really needed to figure out how he felt for you and if he wanted a relationship then he would have to tell you; she sat him down every time she visited him to make damn sure that he wasn’t going to mess with your feelings, as although she loved him dearly and truly and deeply - she knew he was struggling with the situation, and she knew that if he wasn’t careful, he would end up leading you on, and she didn’t want that for anyone. Sure, she would support him as much as she could, but she couldn’t tell you how he felt - that had to be him, entirely him.

“It’s not what I want,” Steve grumbled hesitantly. “I want… I want more than just messing around, but… I don’t know how to… shit.”

“Take your time,” you told him softly. “Please, Steve, take your time, but… just let me know one thing, please?”

“Anything.”

“Do you want this to be just you and me?”

“Yeah,” he bit his bottom lip. “I do.”

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

#mlem writes #steve murphy x you #steve murphy x reader #steve murphy imagine #steve Murphy #narcos x reader #narcos oneshot #narcos imagine #Narcos Netflix #narcos

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