#because these people have forgotten the meaning of the word and the fact that the supposed “groomer” wasn't even around to do *that*
Note
for the ask game: 🧡🖤💚
🧡: What is a popular (serious) theory you disagree with?
Until I see definitive proof that Ludinus is in fact as old as he wants people to believe he is, I will not believe it. I don't even really have an opinion on how old he is; I just don't think he's as old as he tries to suggest. And lest it be said that I am playing favorites, the thing about Ludinus is that he talks the way Essek talks in 91—and there are a lot of things Essek says at that dinner that I take with a good heaping of salt. It's this sense that they're talking around things that they would rather people not question; they're both very skilled at talking around things in a way where they aren't outright lying, but they'd rather you not think too hard about it because there's shit they're not saying. To be clear I also won't be mad if there does turn out to be some evidence in canon that he is that old, but thus far, there is nothing definitive, and I do not take the word of unreliable NPCs at face value.
🖤: Which character is not as morally good as everyone else seems to think?
I don't think this is really an unpopular opinion at this point, but Jester. Nice =/= good. I don't think she's evil, by any means! But her morality is a lot more complex than it's given credit for and I think it's one of the things that is most interesting about her. I'd actually consider her largely amoral; it's just not really an axis of consideration that she worries about. She doesn't want people to hurt her or her friends and she doesn't want something to destroy the world, but otherwise she doesn't really care much about what someone's morality is. "Just don't be evil to me" is an incredible sentiment for a reason. She cares more that Essek said they were his friends than the fact that he's the traitor they've been looking for. Ludinus is so insignificant to her despite his literally world-spanning evil plots that she has basically forgotten him six years later, even though two members of her friend group have spent the last six years trying to pin him down. Jester is hilariously amoral and I love that for her.
💚: What does everyone else get wrong about your favorite character?
[cracks knuckles] OKAY, this is where I've got receipts, because hooo boy do I have an opinion and I will be proving it.
Essek does not have an opinion on the Prime Deities. He does not really have much of an opinion on religion. He actually does not by the end of the campaign have any real issue with the Luxon, and frankly he primarily expressed issue with the Dynasty's worship because, until he got to Aeor, he wasn't certain that the Luxon was a real entity at all—which he contrasts against the Prime Deities, in fact!—and he seems to believe there is compelling evidence in Aeor that categorically disproves his hypothesis that the beacons are simply constructed Age of Arcanum devices.
Originally he is mostly concerned that the Luxon religion is used as a "crutch" which is "distracting them from what other good things they could do with the time and focus". He does specify that any religion can be used as such, but he only remarks upon the one he knows. His theory about the beacons, as of episode 91, is that they may be "artifacts designed in the Age of Arcanum that have been misread" that could be put to even further use.
He also does parrot the Dynasty party line in their first meeting about the Luxon being "the basis of how we've been able to free ourselves from the binds of the lineage the Betrayer Gods left for us", and while I do not take him at face value here (see the above commentary about unreliable NPCs), I doubt the truth of this statement is lost on him, considering his familial connections to Bazzoxan, which I can only imagine would not exactly endear one to the Betrayers, though this is only conjecture. If we do care to take him at his word here, it's not unreasonable, since he obviously has a lot more interest in the power offered by the beacons than anything else.
With all that being said, his tune on the Luxon itself has at least changed by the time they get to Aeor. He discusses iconography found in Aeor and when prompted by the Nein about whether the beacons were created by mortals, says, "I do not believe that they are made by anyone but the Luxon. They are of the Luxon. But they've been around since the Luxon's been in Exandria, which is the beginning."
So we started with him largely apathetic to religion, uncertain if this god was real, and by the time we circle back to him, he has now sided fairly definitively with the fact that the Luxon is an entity that has been around since at least the Founding. (For those keeping track at home, this is longer than Predathos has been around. In the Dynasty's creation myth, it may also have been around before the Prime Deities arrived, which is technically not incompatible with the creation myth of Exandria at large, but I digress.) Like most of Exandria, and as is perfectly reasonable for both his culture and his region, he probably doesn't have any love for the Betrayer Gods, but doesn't express much opinion if any on the Prime Deities. He has no time for religion, but frankly, he doesn't have time for much except for his own research, so it's hard to really ascribe any noted contempt to that.
Like, look, I've written plenty of religious trauma Essek fic, and I don't doubt that that element of it exists, but overall, in terms of canonical statements, it's pretty tame.
With that being said, I do want to fast forward a bit to draw attention to something else. Because I actually do think he ends the campaign with some measure of respect for, at the very least, the Wildmother.
In 140 after the Raise Dead fails, he talks briefly with Fjord about the unfairness of it. Fjord passively directs him to "if you were to ask my wise friend Caduceus..." Immediately after this exchange, Essek challenges Caleb to not accept defeat, and admits he wishes there was more that he or any of them could do, but concedes that, "Unfortunately, this type of magic is beyond my purview."
Immediately after this exchange, Caduceus asks for divine intervention.
Of course, he then spends several weeks gardening in a temple to the Wildmother, and seems to find some genuine clarity and perspective there, but I think this alone is enough to argue that, for a person as driven by empirical evidence as Essek, this sequence of events in 140 would be plenty to earn a wizard's respect.
So my formal belief is that Essek is not in fact anti-god or anti-religion, let alone against the Prime Deities. My opinion is that it's very easy to imagine him on his post-campaign travels leaving a small offering at any shrine of Melora he might pass, not out of actual worship but as a sign of respect.
#unpopular opinion meme#this got so long and it's late cuz I had to go pull receipts but I am correct on all counts 😤#but since it's long and I did cite my sources I'll also toss it in#cr meta
112 notes
·
View notes
Text
And I return with some ghost Obi. Thanks @queenaelinwildfire!
Spinning off of Sparky, ghost Obi haunting Jango
Ooo bonus points if it’s smol obi wan
When the boy first appeared, Jango had been sure it’d been the spice. Hallucinations were hardly new and the young boy who stared at him with frightened eyes was hardly the strangest thing he saw. In fact, the boy who whispered warnings about when the slavers were coming, and told him that Neeva—the young togruta girl a few slaves down—was dying, and told him stories about men in white armor who died forgotten heroes, was perhaps the kindest hallucination that Jango experienced.
Except the boy didn’t go away. Not when Jango killed the slavers. Not when Jango detoxed. Not when Jango left behind all but the scars of his time with the slavers.
Jango hadn’t quite believed in ghosts before, but he had no other explanation for the boy that followed him unerringly from the slavers’ ship to Concord Dawn to the ugly, worn down ship he eventually acquired.
“You have a reason for haunting me, kid?” he asked.
The boy frowned. His hand came to his neck where a collar rested.
Jango had tried not to think about that particular accessory too much.
“I don’t know,” the boy admitted. “I… I don’t remember how I got here.”
Jango was going to guess that the answer included ‘dying’. “You need help moving on?” Jango asked. Though he had no idea how he would help some ghost move on. Jaster would have, though.
Jango blocked out the thought.
“I don’t know,” the boy admitted. “I don’t think so. I think I’m here for a reason.”
Great. A reason. That explained so much. “What’s your name?”
The boy’s brow furrowed. “I… I don’t know.” The boy sounded alarmed, as though he’d just realized he didn’t have a name.
Well, there went trying to track down where the boy had come from. All Jango had to go on was the rough mining clothes the boy was wearing, several sizes too large for him, and the collar around his neck.
Mining colonies weren’t exactly sparse in this galaxy. Even narrowing it down to mining colonies that used slavery didn’t help.
The Republic might claim that slavery was outlawed, but that didn’t mean much, Jango had discovered.
“Do you have a name you want me to call you?” Jango asked, because while Jango could keep calling him ‘the boy’ it seemed…
Wrong.
If Myles were here, Myles would have already named the kid. It’d probably have been something meaningful and well thought out.
If Silas were here, he’d have helped the kid come up with a name on his own. He’d have turned it into a game, until the kid didn’t even remember he was upset.
If Jaster were here…
Jango tried not to think about what Jaster would have done.
The boy frowned and Jango could tell he was thinking. “Obi,” the boy said finally. “I think… I think I like Obi.”
“Obi,” Jango agreed. He wondered if it was the kid’s actual name, hidden in the depths of his mind. “You going to keep following me around?”
Obi tilted his head. “I think so. I don’t want you to be alone.” Obi’s gaze was piercing. “Are you going to go home?” he asked. “Now that you’re free?”
Jango swallowed. “I don’t have a home to go to.”
Obi’s eyes echoed with a terrible sadness. “You’re afraid.”
Jango closed his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said, words coming out short.
“Sometimes I dream I can’t go home either,” Obi whispered. “In the dream, I want the desert sands to strip me to my bones.”
Jango flinched, but added the piece of information to the possibility of where Obi had come from. Though, there were a spare few mining colonies on desert planets. The combination was rarely conducive to the most valuable of mining operations.
“It’s not the same kid.”
Obi stared at him. “I think they’d want you to come back.” His hand rubbed at the metal collar around his neck again. “Wherever home is. They… they probably miss you.”
Jango scoffed. He’d gotten so many of their people killed, the ones that remained could hardly want him back. “Not likely, kid.”
“In my dreams, they died because of me,” Obi whispered.
Apparently being a ghost made the kid telepathic. Jango was not a fan. But it was… it was a kid, a dead kid. Jango didn’t have the heart to try to get rid of him, unless it was to bring him home.
“Just a dream, kid.”
Obi looked away. “What if it’s not? Do… do we never get to go home?”
Jango sighed. “Come on, let me teach you how to navigate in and out of hyperspace.” He’d noticed that the kid looked like he enjoyed watching Jango in the cockpit. Sure, the kid would never need the skills himself, being dead and all, but Jango didn’t know what else to do with the dead kid that was stuck with Jango.
Obi nodded, following Jango back to the cockpit. It was the end of the conversation.
Or it should have been.
The question haunted Jango as the months passed. Would he ever get to go home? With the sins that weighed so heavy on his shoulders? It’d been years. Years as a slave and now nearly a year free.
He looked at Obi, who hadn’t aged since the day he’d found Jango in the hull of the slave ship. Just a kid. Always a kid. A dead kid that couldn’t go home. Whose closest thing to home was Jango and Jango’s ship.
Jango had been determined not to think of it, of what he’d lost, of what was gone, of what he could never allow himself to have again.
Do we never get to go home?
Was that why the kid was stuck as a ghost? Had he told himself he was never allowed to go home? Had he trapped himself in some sort of eternal punishment.
Jango had never heard of it happening before, but he wasn’t a scholar, and this universe was full of things stranger than Jango could believe.
Do we never get to go home?
Was that why the kid had found him? Because he saw Jango’s punishment as his own?
Because this life Jango lived now, constantly chasing the next bounty, with nothing but a ghost at his side… was it a life? Was Jango just as much a ghost as the dead kid that haunted him.
“Where are we going next?” Obi asked when the next hunt finished.
Jango stared at the controls on the cockpit’s dashboard.
Do we never get to go home?
Did he?
The kid needed a home. Jango… Jango couldn’t give him the one he’d been taken from. But…
“Concord Dawn,” he said.
“Where’s that?” Obi asked. “Is there a hunt there?”
Jango shook his head. “No, kid. We’re going home.”
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
If I had a coconut for every time a person said "the Darkling was a groomer" I would have enough coconuts to throw them on their heads and cure their amnesia.
#tw: grooming#because these people have forgotten the meaning of the word and the fact that the supposed “groomer” wasn't even around to do *that*#but the way this word is overused for a person that even the author didn't consider him one is infuriating and stupid#the darkling#pro darkling#aleksander morozova#pro aleksander morozova#shadow and bone#leigh bardugo#grishaverse#alina starkov#darklina#pro darklina#alarkling#pro alarkling
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
insane in the membrane about Hebitians again. This time the scene Siddig and Andy read recently as a teaser of Garak calling Julian to see him after a nightmare. Garak feeling comfortable enough to go on a rant about Hebitian metaphysics- the fact that Garak apparently knows abt and understands Hebitian metaphysics. the soft intimacy that's similar to some of their show scenes but so different because death isn't hanging over them, in a book that I think emphasizes how death stalks Garak's life pretty heavily (growing up playing in a cemetery!). "You not only ‘saved’ my life, you also made it possible for me to live it"??? Garak saying goodbye in the form of a joke before leaving DS9 for what he's pretty sure is the last time.
#cipher talk#ds9#Asit#Garashir#Also the thing about Garak having 'forgotten' what he knew about Hebitian metaphysics and relations and Julian's mercy allowing him to#Remember has lead me to the reading that garak tried to memoryhole being Hebitian out of himself between exile and the wire because like#That's a really strong implication and makes sense given he basically had destroyed and was reconstructing his sense of self#But also the like. Oughhh#The fact that a man so throughly foreign to him allowed him to reclaim that part of himself#And Julian doesn't even KNOW because Garak's never said a word- of course not- to him until this scene#And even then Garak cannot fully tell him what this means to him. He can only say 'people used to believe this.' And imply he still does
66 notes
·
View notes
Note
dad toji x reader grocery shopping with baby megumi
ෆ tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff. you’re gumi’s mother.
“look at your mama, kid.” toji grins as he lazily pushes your shopping cart forwards. you were walking a few steps ahead to grab some necessities, leaving the father-son duo behind, “she’s so damn beautiful, ain’t she?”
megumi was seated in the baby-seat, babbling and cooing just by hearing the familiar word ‘mama’ spill from toji’s lips. the simple mention of you gets your little son feeling all giddy on the inside, even if his limited vocabulary doesn’t allow him to fully grasp what his dad was saying.
at one point, you seem to have wandered a bit too far ahead. toji and megumi were three aisles behind you, which you didn’t even notice because you were too busy going through your grocery list.
“oh, no, what’re we gonna do?” toji playfully puts on a worried expression as he pokes his son’s chubby cheek, “we lost mama.” and as if on cue, megumi’s smile turns upside down. he couldn’t understand what his father was saying, though seeing that (fake) worried expression on his parent’s face was enough to make him burst out crying.
“hey, hey,” toji immediately tries to calm megumi down by ruffling his hair gently, “i was just jokin’, but eh— guess you don’t even know what that means, do ya?”
you immediately rush back to see what occured once you heard the familiar cries of your child and see your husband trying to soothe megumi. toji was now holding onto the baby, one hand on the back of megumi’s tiny head while the other was slowly patting his lower back in a soothing manner.
“what happened, love?” you ask worriedly as you walk over to the two. megumi seemed to have calmed down in his father’s embrace after a few moments. in fact, your son had completely forgotten his sadness the second you were visible to him again.
toji shrugs and scratches his cheek, “i was just jokin’ with the kiddo, but i guess he doesn’t like his daddy’s humor.”
you sigh and hold yourself back from giving toji an earful in the midst of the store once you realised what probably happened.
if the man’s not teasing you, he’s teasing his child. you don’t know how many times you’ve scolded your husband for making megumi cry on accident due to his jokes. it’s quite literally impossible to get him to understand that megumi is too young to pick up on social cues. it’s either that or toji simply acts like he doesn’t understand.
it was most likely the latter since you know that toji always loves getting reactions out of the people he teases;
“toji—” “yeah, yeah, i know. i won’t do it again, babe.”
oh, he most definitely will.
#ෆ : parenting 101.#jjk x reader#toji x reader#jjk x you#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fluff#if anybody wants i can make like a series called parenting 101 ft. toji fushiguro#and its just a collection of drabbles like these
8K notes
·
View notes
Text
The perils of love
Summary: being in love with Luke seemed to be a bad idea as you realise that he doesn't seem to be interested. But as you get ready to move on from love entirely your father decides to appear and two people fall for you.
Main Taglist : @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open)
Part 2
Luke Castellan, everyone knew him at camp either for his sword skills or just his kind smiles for every camper that walked into the Hermes cabin. You had fallen for him the moment you met him, sweet brown eyes and a kind smile had you into a puddle.
You had been twelve, wandering around the Hermes cabin, waiting desperately for your parent to claim you but the days went by, and you still were there. The little girls crush however didn’t went by but grew stronger every day you saw the boy who slowly turned into a man that had all the girls going crazy over him.
He had been kind to you but there was always a look that you couldn’t decipher, until today that was.
“So, where is your number one fan Luke?”, you hear Chris say in a teasing tone and after a moment you hear Chris say your name, as if to make it clear it was you.
“I don’t know and frankly I don’t have the time to care right now,” Luke says after letting out a sigh, but you felt your chest tighten at the words. Chris snorts at the words and you don’t expect what he says next.
“You know that there is a betting pool as to when the both of you are going to date,” you don’t know how Luke reacts, as you are practically one with the wall, but you hear him snort.
“Please, she is a sweet girl, but I would never date her. I don’t know how to explain it but sometimes she can just be a little-”, he seems to be trying to find his words and as you wait for it you feel tears brimming in your eyes at his previous statement.
“Clingy? I mean she is practically everywhere you are.”, the words are like a bullet to your heart, particularly when you hear Luke agree.
“I know right, I mean I know that she is still part of the Hermes cabin as she hasn’t been claimed yet but still,” you try to blink the tears away, not willing to cry as you hear the words being said by the man you had always looked up to.
“Maybe she will never be claimed, I mean after three years,” Chris says, and you can hear the grimace in his voice, he says it with such carelessness as if you haven’t been thinking about the same thing every night for the past three years, wondering what was wrong with you.
“We’ll see what happens I guess, but maybe it would be good for her to be in another cabin,” Luke says, he looks like he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, but Chris adds one last phrase to their conversation.
“Or better for you,” there is a quiet hum of agreement and that is the only thing you need before leaving the cabin quietly, the book that you had come for quickly forgotten.
You knew it was pitiful, the fact that they all seemed to know that you liked the Hermes boy and that they all pitied you for it. Because in the end the boy would never go for you, he had a hundred girls waiting for him and yet here you were hoping for the impossible.
Tears are brimming in your eyes, but you quickly brush them away, not wanting to cry after what had happened, you needed to be strong now. It was time for you to get over that stupid crush and get on with your life, maybe if you trained more your godly parent would finally recognize you and claim you.
“What are you doing here all alone?”, you suddenly hear someone say behind you and you turn around to find Annabeth looking at you with worried eyes.
“Thinking, the lake always seems to sooth me,” you say, the words coming a bit weaker than you intended them too. The girl simply nods at your words before sitting down next to you.
“What about you?”, you quietly ask her, and she lets out a sigh.
“Needed to get out a little bit, I can only strategise so much before going crazy,” she says with a small smile, and you can’t help but smile at her words.
“I’m sure your strategy will be incredible, as always,” you tell her and she simply nods, looking too far into her thoughts.
“Chiron is thinking of splitting up the Hermes cabin,” she suddenly says, and you turn to look at her in surprise.
“Really? How so?”, you can’t help but ask, wondering if this is maybe your chance to get a bit away from a certain Hermes boy.
“He thinks that the unclaimed children and children of minor gods should get the chance to chose in which team they want to be,” she looks conflicted, and you can understand why, this could mean less people for the blue team, her team.
“It seems like a kind gesture,” you can’t help but say and Annabeth nods in agreement.
“It is, although he could’ve said it sooner, now we all need to find a different strategy and we are going crazy with figuring out who will be on our team,” she seems overwhelmed, and you can’t help but put your hand on her shoulder trying to calm her down.
“Hey, calm down it will all be alright,” you tell her, and she takes a deep breath before slowly nodding in agreement.
“I know, I just don’t want to lose,” she says with a pout, and you can finally see the twelve-year-old she really is, that childlike excitement at the thought of capture the flag.
The both of you are deep in thought before her voice breaks the silence, her voice small as she talks.
“Which team are you choosing?”, it was probably a valid question to ask, you were unclaimed so you could technically choose which team to be on, but you just couldn’t get the previous conversation you had heard out of your head.
“The fact that you aren’t saying anything makes me think that you are going to go on the red team,” it seems like she is trying to tease you but there is some sort of hurt woven into her words.
“Don’t take it personally,” you can’t help but say, as much as you would’ve liked staying on the blue team you just couldn’t bear to be that close to Luke after what you had heard. You didn’t know what you would be doing tonight as you were sleeping in the same cabin as always, but he wouldn’t pay attention to you not unless you went to him.
“Did something happened with Luke?”, the carefully asked question makes you look at Annabeth with wide eyes, she had an understanding look in her eyes and you couldn’t help but curse the fact that she was Athena’s daughter.
“Nothing happened, I just realised that maybe I should get to know other people and that maybe it would get me out of my comfort zone,” there are a lot of things unsaid, Annabeth knows it too. Luckily, she doesn’t know of the conversation you had heard, or the fact that the words had cut you deeper than you could’ve ever thought they would.
“You should probably tell Chiron and the red team, I heard that they were planning a strategy evening to talk about what they were going to do tomorrow,” you try to find anger in Annabeth’s eyes but there is only understanding and a lingering sadness that seems to disappear as you get up.
“Good idea, I will be doing that right now. Good luck on the strategy and don’t drive yourself crazy Annabeth you will do great,” you tell her, and a sweet smile appears on her lips as she nods slowly making you smile at her.
“Don’t be a stranger!”, she yells as you are about to leave, and you turn around to smile at her.
“I won’t!”, she looks reassured at the words before turning back to the water, leaving you to go towards Chiron office.
--
“A little birdie told me you were on the red team,” you hear someone say and turn around to find Clarisse smirking at you.
“Would that little birdie be Chiron?”, you ask, feeling breathless after trying to stab the dummy about a hundredth time with your sword.
“I don’t reveal my sources princess,” she says with a smirk while you feel your cheeks heat up, you tell yourself it’s because of the work out you just did.
“We have a meeting tonight, after dinner at the Ares cabin,” she says while looking around the rink before picking up a sword.
“I’ll be there,” you tell her, expecting the girl to leave you alone but she just comes closer to you.
“After that there is a movie night and a sleepover, one of the Aphrodite kids managed to convince Chiron to allow it,” the words leave you confused for a moment, how would you even have a movie night with all these people.
“Only a few people are invited for that part,” she clarifies, and you feel breathless at the sight of her warm brown eyes, seemingly forgetting about other brown eyes.
“How come I am invited?”, you can’t help but ask, wondering why the Ares girl suddenly seemed sweet to you when she was practically attacking anyone else.
“Don’t ask too many questions or you’ll be uninvited princess,” the nickname rolls of her tongue in a way that makes your cheeks go red, once again.
“Fine I’ll stop asking questions and just come with my pajama’s,” you tell her, and a satisfied grin makes his way on her lips.
“Good, now back to serious stuff you were holding your sword the wrong way,” she says like it’s a fact, as if she was pointing out that the sky was blue.
“No, I wasn’t!”, you can’t help but say looking at her with wide eyes.
“Yes, it is, let me help you fix it. I need the best people on my team after all,” you get ready to object but as you feel her get behind you putting her hand over yours on the sword to put your hand correctly you find yourself speechless.
The next hour is spent fighting against each other, but you can’t stop laughing as Clarisse tells you stories of her siblings to try and distract you, which ultimately works as you often end up on your ass. You don’t even seem to notice another pair of brown eyes looking at you, farther away, brows furrowed as he looks at the scene in front of him.
--
“Welcome to the exclusive sleepover,” you hear a soft voice say and you turn around to find Silena smiling kindly at you, two glasses in her hands before giving one to you.
“Thank you, guess they really were exclusive as I had never heard of them before,” you say, feeling a bit nervous as you look around the room only to find Clarisse in a heated discussion with another Aphrodite girl.
“Clarisse only invites people that she trusts or likes, which isn’t many, but she does cares for them,” Silena smiles at the Ares girl in front of you and you can’t help but do the same, Clarisse always seemed to be angry but in that moment, she seemed far more softer.
“I’m glad she trusts me,” you say, somehow missing the look Silena gives you, a look of confusion as you seem to have missed her clue on Clarisse liking you.
Clarisse had always been discrete about it, but Silena had caught her looking at you far too often to not know about it. Her fingers always seemed to itch when you were sword fighting, as if she was itching to get your posture right and to be able to touch you even for just a few seconds. You only had eyes for the Castellan boy, or it seemed that way until yesterday when Chiron told them that you would be on their team. Silena didn’t ask much of her mother but in that moment, she couldn’t help but ask her mother for help to get the both of you together. Clarisse deserved her happy ending and you deserved someone who would love you for who you were.
She gets woken from her thoughts as she hears Clarisse talking to you, there is a nervousness in her gestures as she pushes her hair behind her ear, but you don’t seem to realize it as you recount a story. Silena quietly gets up from her spot, and sends and encouraging look towards Clarisse, who seems a bit more at ease now.
--
Capture the flag is a mess, more than the last time but you try not to let your mind wander too long. A boy that you think is from the Hephaestus cabin runs towards you and you sigh in annoyance before starting to fight against him, quickly ‘killing’ him and making him surrender.
You had been tasked with trying to find the blue flag, but it seemed as if Annabeth had found a really good spot this time, and she had put more people in defense. After a while you wondered if you had the wrong hunch until you saw something blue flickering in the reflection of your sword. As you turned to look behind you, you saw the blue flag but weirdly there was no one around it.
“This feels like a trap,” you can’t help but whisper under your breath as you try to hide behind the bushes but a blade against your neck makes you stop in your steps.
“Sorry, but I need to do this,” you hear someone say and you turn around to find a sheepish Percy looking at you.
“Hi Percy,” you say with a kind smile and the boy smiles back, looking reassured that you aren’t mad or swinging your sword at him.
“How are you doing?”, you can’t help but ask, you hadn’t seen him since he had been claimed by Poseidon, but the boy seemed healthy.
“Good, well as good as you can when you learn that your father is one of the big three’s and that your life will be a hellhole,” he says with a roll of his eyes, and you can’t help but snort.
“Still as sarcastic I see,” you can’t help but say while laughing and a sheepish grin forms itself on his lips.
“Can’t help it,” he says while shrugging his shoulders.
“It’s a shame you aren’t on our team,” he says quietly, and you smile softly, the two of you had talked a lot when he had arrived, and you felt close to him.
“Maybe next time,” you tell him and the boy smiles at the answer before asking you a question and the two of you talk for a moment before you hear a battle cry and see the red team suddenly making their way in the clearing, the blue team also appearing.
Percy and you look at each other with wide eyes before you take out your sword.
“If you don’t say anything about this, I won’t say anything,” Percy nods quickly and the both of you break away from the tree you were behind before joining your team as Percy joins his.
An Apollo girl comes running towards you, but you quickly manage to disarm her, others following behind her, but you are in such a haze that you don’t realize how close you are getting to the flag. That is until you are met with a familiar blade, Luke’s.
The boy is looking at you, slightly out of breath from the fighting just like you.
“You can always abandon now sweetheart,” he says and can’t help but blush slightly at the familiar nickname.
“No chance Castellan, give me your worst,” this seems to make the boy laugh before he quickly wields his swords, yours clashing against his in familiar movements. You had fought many times against Luke as he had taught you how to fight but you had a new trick up your sleeve that Clarisse had taught you. She had told you that his left leg was his weakness, a bruise that had never really fully recovered.
So, when the opportunity presents itself, you wield your sword against his left leg, making sure not to hurt him too much. But as you hit the spot Luke winces in pain and his sword leaves his hand. You don’t think at that point and simply continue straight to the flag, whispering a soft ‘sorry’ as you go to the Hermes boy.
You manage to take the flag before seeing Percy coming towards you with his sword, you expect the hit, but he seems transfixed, looking at something above you. There is a loud silence, on a battlefield that was filled with battle cries just a second ago.
Chiron’s voice suddenly comes up, suddenly saying your name.
“Daughter of Zeus, king of the gods,” the rest of his words are lost as you look up, only to see the symbol of Zeus above your head, your father’s symbol.
You didn’t know how to feel, you had been waiting for so long but now that it was happening you just felt lost. Why was he claiming you right now?
“Congratulations! Seems like we are cousins now,” you suddenly hear Percy say, he has a bright smile on his lips, but there is also sadness in his eyes. It takes you a few seconds to understand why, you were now a child of the big three, which meant your life was about to be a hellhole as Percy had said.
“Always though there was something familiar between the two of us,” you try to say in a teasing tone, but it falls flat, Percy nodding in understanding.
As you turn around to look at the rest of the camp you see Luke looking at you with wide brown eyes, as if he was seeing you for the first time. You turn your gaze towards Clarisse who is looking at you with a proud smile and something else that you can’t quite understand.
There was surely a lot of trouble coming but not the one you were expecting, it would be far more complicated than monsters or a father that decided to appear after fifteen years. Matters of the heart were after all the most complicated of all, particularly between a daughter of Zeus, a daughter of Ares and a son of Hermes.
#percy jackson x reader#percy series#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#clarisse x reader#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse pjo#clarrise la rue#clarisse la rue#clarisse la rue fluff#clarisse la rue x fem reader#clarisse la rue x y/n#luke castellan fluff
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Yandere Online Friend Headcannons
Y! Online Friend who's always updated on your posts! Isn't he so sweet to like your pictures even when it's from years ago? ^^
Y! Online Friend who's always available for late-night chats with you! Sure, they have work and assignments the next day but his beloved is more important than that! Don't mind the occasional groan he lets out whenever you guys call each other<3
Y! Online Friend who's that one friend that will flirt with you every chance he gets. He would say the most down bad, diabolical, horny, unacceptable, horrendous, and disturbing flirtatious comments towards you and quickly brushes them off as jokes to avoid making things awkward^^
Y! Online Friend who has an impressive memory when it comes to remembering details about your life! He'd even bring up some shows you've been interested in just so you could rant them about this and that<3 He loves to jerk off to your voice
Y! Online Friend who's always there to offer his support and encouragement whenever you're feeling down or stressed! <3 he would stay up late to chat with you and send some funny cat memes or videos to cheer you up!
Y! Online Friend who gets jealous when you talk to other people in groupchats. W̶h̶y̶ d̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ y̶o̶u̶ p̶a̶y̶ a̶t̶t̶e̶n̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ t̶o̶ h̶i̶m̶ i̶n̶s̶t̶e̶a̶d̶ o̶f̶ t̶h̶o̶s̶e̶ l̶e̶e̶c̶h̶e̶s̶?̶
Y! Online Friend who wishes he could spend time with you in person! Don't get him wrong- he enjoys your online interactions but he wants to see your beautiful face and hear your angelic voice in person too!
Y! Online Friend who writes unsent messages or love letters to you! <3 He pours out his feelings and desires onto every word and yet it remains hidden and forgotten:(
Y! Online Friend who overanalyze every messages you send him<3 He searches for hidden meanings and signs that you might feel the same way about him! He'd dissect your words, emojis and kamojis, hoping to find evidence that his feelings have a chance of being reciprocated<3 He's the type to watch those type of videos on tiktok that goes "5 signs your crush likes you back"
"And so obviously I was mad at her because of- Are you even listening Rein?"
Your eyebrows raised at him. You were in a call with your online friend Rein and telling him about this girl you hate, however your dearest friend had been awfully quiet... Aside from the occasional groans though! But you just took it as him agreeing
Suddenly, you heard some shuffling and finally his voice can be heard
"Wh- what?? Oh yeah..!! I was just uh- Doing something..." He let out a nervous cough before continuing "Please do continue" His voice was hoarse and you could hear his fast paced breath
You were a bit suspicious but still continued to the story, oblivious to the fact that the other was slowly slipping his hand back into his boxer<3
To him your voice was angelic. A symphony where he can find comfort, warmth and satisfaction.
In fact he hated talking to others until you came. Oh how he loved how you vent to him about your problems<3 he loves your voice so much that it got him to the situation he's currently in right now.
Small groans and whimpers can be heard from the room. His palm teasing the evident bulge from his boxers as you continued your rant.
His mind was going wild as of the moment—he was humiliated at himself for getting off from your voice that wasn't even hinting anything particularly sexual.
Still, He can't help but entertain his fantasy about you finding out how perverted he actually is and degrading him for it—fuck, he can't take it anymore.
He's getting really impatient...be careful<3 ^^
It's been so long since I posted anything but uhh... :3
I tried to make a full blown scene of him getting at it but I couldn't do it🤡
#꧁meow𓃠꧂#tw yandere#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere oc#yandere imagine#soft yandere#boy yandere#online friends#headcannons#yandere male#male yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#yandere x you#male yandere#yandere boy#yandere concept#yandere drabble#yandere fanfiction#yandere headcanons#yandere oneshot#yandere oc x you#yandere smut#Yandere Online Friend#yandere#headcanon#scenarios
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
While I'm happy that the word "gaslighting" is more known than it used to be, and that people at large are learning to recognize what it looks like, I feel like we need to be careful not to turn it into something soft and casual we throw around off the cuff without meaning.
Being gaslit is psychological abuse that fucks you up very badly, very slowly, at such a gradual pace that you don't usually know it's happening until it's already re-wired your brain.
If you're unfamiliar with the term, "to gaslight" is to intentionally persuade someone that they cannot trust their own perceptions of reality. It's a destabilizing form of manipulation that leaves you constantly anxious, off-balanced, confused, and dependant on others.
This is done by lying about events that have happened or about things that are happening, invalidating feelings and observations, and either denying, refusing to acknowledge, or deflecting away from hard facts.
As someone who has experienced gaslighting as a form of abuse, this is what I remember from when I didn't know anything was off:
"Oh, I must have forgotten what really happened."
"I'm just not seeing it from their point of view."
"Everyone has their ups and downs. This is normal."
"I guess I wasn't thinking about what I was doing."
"I must have been wrong."
This is what I remember from when I first started realizing something was weird:
"How come every time I'm convinced they did something wrong, they just talk to me a few minutes, and I end up asking for their forgiveness? What has me so convinced I was right in the first moment?"
"I should start writing things down when they happen, so I can go back and check later when I'm confused."
"If every relationship like ours (familial, romantic, platonic) works this way, how come I never hear about it, or read about it, or see it anywhere else?"
Getting out and adjusting to the real world is hard, too, and comes with rapid swings of unfounded guilt, shame, fear, anxiety, and self-deprication that are completely unfounded in reality.
You've been conditioned to believe that you are entirely helpless and unable to think for yourself, possibly "crazy" or otherwise fundamentally impaired, and that there is a singular source of guidance that knows exactly what is right, and all of a sudden that pillar of support has vanished.
The immediate "after" that I recall looks like:
Constant uncertainty. Because nobody is there to tell you what's real and what isn't, you approach every situation thinking at it from all angles. Every question has fifty possible answers and most of them are wrong and you don't know which. If you choose wrong, the world will end.
A sense of helplessness. You feel that nothing you do is correct, and it's easier to make no choices at all- or you make wild, reckless, impulsive choices, because you feel you have nothing to lose.
Memory loss. I don't understand this one, but it's not like memoriescare being erased, but more like... you're so used to treating your memories as dreams or imaginations that you reflexively dismiss anything you recall as fake, and you can't believe anything you recall because you don't think it was real. Your abusers voice is in your head, wiping things away and telling you that you did the wrong thing. And you believe them, because they're the only constant you can rely on.
Missing the abuser, or the abusive dynamic. Because you know now that it wasn't healthy, but at least you knew where you stood. As long as you said the right things and acted the right way, agreed and obeyed and did as they expected, you felt like thevworld made sense. Now you have to figure out which parts of you really are broken, and which parts are working fine in a really weird way, and it's like tuning a piano when you've never played one before.
The long term "after"- for which I can only speak for myself- looks like:
Having to double-check, triple-check, and continue checking hard evidence of an event before responding in an active way.
Consulting with trusted friends to verify that your observations are legitimate and that your perceptions are valid. Following up with them to see if someone is really angry at you, or if you're just projecting anger onto them because it's what makes sense to your old pattern.
Obsessive collection of "evidence"- saving pictures, writing detailed journals, making recordings and video, never deleting emails or old texts, because you still don't quite trust yourself all the way and you're afraid that someone will cause you to doubt yourself again.
Continued self-doubt and being "gullible": I have straight up seen people flip me off to my face in front of witnesses and then immediately tell me, "No, I was just waving", and my first instinct is to believe them. For a few seconds, I *really do* believe them. Your brain is so trained to latch onto what people tell you to believe that its really, really hard to hold onto information that you already have.
Learning to take ownership over your own actions. (I didn't mess up because I'm "crazy", I messed up because I'm a person and people do that.)
Instinctively seeking approval. (Takes a lot of work to remind myself that I don't exit to make people happy, and that some people suck ass, and I can tell them to piss off.)
I don't intend to invalidate anyone currently struggling with this- if you feel that something is wrong, it probably is. That's the thought that got me out. Trust that feeling that something isn't right.
I just want people who don't know what to look for to know what gaslighting *actually* looks and feels like, so they don't just roll their eyes and think, "Oh, that word doesnt apply to me- I'm not some snowflake".
('Cause we all saw what happened with "triggered", right?)
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
That's What Friends Are For- E.M.
I've been really thirsty for Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie so I poured myself this taaaallll drink of water. Hope you love it xx
You've never had an orgasm, and Eddie would be happy to help remedy that.
Part 2
Masterlist
TW- 18+ MINORS DNI!! Cursing, mentions of smoking, heavy petting, pet names (angel, sweetheart), a lil crying (but in a good way), fingering (lmk if I missed any)
Pairings- Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie
Word Count- 4,802
(Gifs not mine, credit to owner!)
It wasn’t something that you’d normally ask, but with the haze of weed clouding your senses and the exaggerated moans of the poor actress being exploited for the dumb action movie you and Eddie were watching out of sheer boredom, you couldn’t help yourself. You turn to Eddie, the cogs in your head turning in overtime as the words reach your mouth before you can even put too much stock in them, “What does an orgasm even feel like?” Your eyes narrow as you imagine it, the sounds of the woman on screen echoing in your mind. There’s no way that real people sound like that, no, this is just some stupid movie that you and Eddie had never even heard of before digging it out of the pile of tapes beneath the TV. “I mean, I guess it’s gotta feel good, but does it feel that good?”
While you ponder the probability of the sounds onscreen being at all accurate for real-world scenarios, Eddie’s face pales, the light high he’d been enjoying completely knocked out of his body at your words. Despite being best friends for the past several years, you never really talked about your sex lives with each other. For you, it was because it didn’t exist. For Eddie, it was because the only person he really wanted anymore was you. Every other person in town combined couldn’t interest him half as much as you, and he had definitely looked. Pining after your best friend for years wasn’t really something Eddie was interested in doing, not that it helped. Of course, the only reason you hadn’t made a move—aside from the fact that you were thoroughly terrified at the thought of being rejected—was because you thought that Eddie was something of a ladies’ man. You knew he was much more experienced than you, not that that was a difficult feat, but you knew that he at least went on dates. And you never wanted your attraction to him get in the way of your friendship anyway. If he liked you, he would’ve made a move sooner, right?
Wrong.
Eddie had fallen head over heels for you about a year after you had met, both of you juniors in high school. You went away with your family on vacation for a couple weeks that summer and came back... different. You were more confident, and even though it had only been a short separation, you looked different, more womanly than gangly teenager. He liked you before, but some switch inside his chest flicked, like the lights were finally turning on in some long-forgotten roller coaster ride. He’s had it bad for you ever since, suffering in silence because he knows how shy you used to be, and still are to some extent. He would never, ever want to do or say anything to make you uncomfortable, including putting his feelings on the line in exchange for your amazing friendship.
Still, the news that you didn’t know what an orgasm felt like was surprising. He knew you were private about your dating life, and he always respected that. But you had had boyfriends before. And you were both in your early 20s now. Surely you had been with one of them. Or even figured it out on your own...
“What?” is the brilliant response that flies from Eddie’s lips as his brain short circuits. You look back at his face, having wandered away, lost in thought. Eddie half expects you to backtrack, but still, to his surprise, you double down.
“What does an orgasm feel like?” He can tell your Mary Jane consumption must be fueling this line of questioning, but if you’re really curious...
“Um, well...” Eddie flounders, trying to find the words to say. You keep your focus on him, your thoughts trailing only slightly as you wait for him to respond. “It... It does feel really good. I don’t know exactly what it feels like for women, but for guys, at least, for me, it’s like my whole body kind of explodes, but in, like, the best way,”
You mull this over for a moment, your eyes darting between Eddie’s face and the screen, which has since moved past the over-exaggerated sex scene back into shootouts between the good guy and the bad ones. “Okay, well, have any of the girls you’ve been with ever sounded like that?” You were genuinely curious, trying to imagine what could feel that good and coming up blank.
Eddie chuckles a bit, eyes flicking up in a memory, “Well, one, but I’m pretty sure she was faking. Some women think they have to sound like that because that’s what the movies show them they’re supposed to sound like. But really, there are all different kinds of... sounds... that people make when they’re feeling that good,” he explains, his surprise relaxing now into amusement just slightly.
“Oh,” You look back at the screen, apparently done with your questions. Eddie feels his heartbeat fading back into its normal rhythm after the near heart-attack you had inflicted upon him, and things go quiet for a minute before you turn your head back toward him, mouth poised open to speak. “Do you think—Never mind,” You quickly shove the thought back down your throat, remembering that Eddie’s not supposed to know you’ve been in love with him forever.
The possibilities of what you were about to ask him makes his heart race again, until he’s burning to know. “What is it?” He asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
Your lips press together and shake your head as a heat spreads over your face, giving you a moment of clarity amid the warmth of the high. “No, it’s okay, it was a dumb question,” You wave your hand in dismissal, and pray that Eddie doesn’t press it further in fear of your mouth working faster than your logic. Of course, you have no such luck.
“There are no dumb questions. If you want to know something, all you have to do is ask. Would I ever judge you for anything? And really think about that, because I’ve seen you pick a pickle up off the floor and eat it,” He laughs, trying to diffuse the tension. It helps a little, and with his reassurance and that fleeting moment of clarity far away, you open your mouth again, hesitating as you find the right words.
“Do you think... that you could maybe... show me?”
Eddie’s eyes bulge from his skull, and he’s afraid that his heart has totally stopped for a minute. But after an agonizing moment, a thick thump of his heart breathes life back into him, and he can only pray that you can’t hear it as it loudly thump, thump, thumps in his chest.
“Show you..?” It’s a begging question. He’s not exactly sure which part you want to learn, and he wants to make sure he doesn’t assume anything.
You turn away again, the mortification laying over you in a thick blanket. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have... You can forget it,”
Eddie doesn’t want to mess this up, and the visions of you making such pretty little sounds for him, or better yet, unraveling under his touch, automatically send all of the spare blood in his body downward, so quickly that he almost becomes dizzy. He has to make an effort to shift his body to hide his growing erection as he tries to reassure you. “No, no! Don’t worry, I’m listening. It’s okay, I swear! What do you want me to show you? I... I can do my best,” His voice is sincere, sincere enough to make you look sheepishly back at him, your lashes low as you try not to look in his eyes.
You take a deep breath, your head buzzing with adrenaline as you form the words. “Would you show me how to have an orgasm?”
Eddie swallows hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat. He’s trying so hard to make this seem as chill as possible, for both of your sakes. If he gets too eager too quickly, there’s no way he wouldn’t just bust in his pajama pants, and he might scare you. His mouth is dry as he nods quickly, “Um, yeah. I- I can definitely try,” He watches as your face grows redder by the second, but you give a small smile, one that makes Eddie lightheaded again as another shockwave of want shoots through his half-hard cock. “Do you want to go to my room?” He asks softly, gauging the look on your face as you still avoid his eyes.
“Yeah,” You murmur, but your legs won’t move. There’s a want in you, despite not knowing how to indulge it, and as Eddie gets up from the couch, offering a hand to you, you take it and squeeze, finally looking up at him. Eddie feels like he might faint in that moment, your hazy eyes doe-like and innocent, not making it any easier for him to keep calm. He pulls you up to your feet and you follow him, your hand in his, to his room.
You shut the door behind you, flicking the lock on the knob despite being the only ones home, and turn to face Eddie, who stands just behind you, still not believing what might happen. “S-so, um...” He begins, feet shuffling beneath him. “For girls, it’s a lot harder to... finish. It takes a lot of warming up first,” Your brow furrows.
“Warming up?” A blush breaks out over Eddie’s cheeks, and he reaches out to let his fingers trace up your arm, ghosting over your shoulder and up your neck. A breath hitches in your throat as his palm cups your face, and suddenly, you think you might know what he means. Nevertheless, he explains.
“It’s a lot easier when you’re feeling good from other things first. Like touching, kissing... things like that. It can be painful if you don’t do it right,” Your lashes flutter as he leans in slightly, and you can feel his warm breath fan over your face.
“Oh,” Eddie lets out a breath of a laugh at your breathless response, and already you feel yourself turning to putty in his hands.
“I want you to tell me if you don’t like something, okay? Don’t try to spare my feelings. If you want me to stop doing something, or you want me to do something specific, you tell me. Okay?” The demanding edge in his whispers snaps you back to reality, and you feel a warmth building deep within you. It’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Sure, shadows of this have been felt watching risqué movies with sex scenes or kissing your prior boyfriends awkwardly in the backs of their cars, but that pales in comparison. This is a new, deep burn in the very depths of your body.
“Mhmm,” You try to lean closer to him, to feel more, but his other hand goes to your waist, holding you in place. Your eyes meet his, and they’re unexpectedly hard, his brown eyes serious as he looks at you.
“I need you to say it. I need to know you can say it,” Your breath stutters again at his words, but still, you find your voice.
“I- I don’t like that,” You whisper, and it’s all you can do. Eddie nods in approval, but his eyes want you to continue, “I want you... I want you to kiss me,” You can hear the hammer of your heart in your ears, your blood singing as the anticipation grows. Eddie’s eyes return to their normal softness, gazing into yours like he’s seeing the sun set over the ocean for the first time.
“Are you sure?” Eddie whispers as he inches toward you, his face leaning down ever closer. This might be the closest you’ve ever been to him, and the thought sends a delicious shiver up your spine. His nose just brushes yours, and your eyes flutter shut.
“I want you to kiss me, Eddie,” It’s barely a breath, but he hears you, and gently, gently, his lips meet yours, barely a brush of skin against skin. You hear him suck in a deep breath before letting his lips move against yours a little more firmly, the hand on your waist snaking around your back to pull you closer to him. You let your hands find the back of his hair, which is up in a cute, messy bun, and your fingers wind themselves around a few loose, curly tendrils there. Then, Eddie’s lips move across your cheek, down toward your jaw, and the first sound comes loose from your lips.
It’s a tiny noise, but it might as well have been Eddie’s favorite song, the way he revels in it. He can feel the pounding of your heart in your chest as you press yourself against him, not really knowing what to do other than let Eddie work his way down your neck with his lips. “E-Eddie...” You whimper, hands gently grasping at the fabric at the back of his worn t-shirt.
Eddie stops then, immediately, waiting for your instruction. He had gone too far, hadn’t he? He had done something to make you uncomfortable and now you’d never ever talk to him again... “Can we lay down?” You ask, breathy and quiet in his ear. He presses a firm kiss to the top of your shoulder in relief, elated that you were enjoying what was happening before pulling away.
“Yeah, let’s get you comfy,” He smiles one of those easy, lopsided smiles that takes your breath away, and you feel the butterflies that usually reside in your stomach move downward to your core. You instinctively clench your thighs together to try to squash the foreign feeling, but as Eddie moves to lay down, you see the bulge in his loose pants, and it sends a new swarm flooding your body. With a deep breath, you join Eddie and lay next to him, his face only inches from yours. His hand reaches toward your face, gently brushing a few stray hairs behind your ear. “Do you want to just keep kissing, or are you ready to try something else?” He asks. You think it over, biting the inside of your lip as you bite back the embarrassment of being so inexperienced next to him.
“Can we try something new and still do some kissing?” You smile sheepishly, not being able to hold his gaze as your face heats. He lets out a small laugh, not at you, but because you’re so nervous.
“Yeah, we can do that. Is it okay if I touch you? I can just try a few things and you can figure out what you like,” He suggests, his eyes roaming over you. You’re not wearing a bra, because you never did when you and Eddie were just lounging around watching movies and smoking, something Eddie had to get used to quick when your body started really developing. Once or twice when he was a few years younger, he had to fake an upset stomach just to relieve his aching cock in the bathroom upon seeing your pert nipples through the fabric of one of his old t-shirts.
“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” With your permission, Eddie’s fingers gently reach the hem of your shirt, slipping under and running his calloused fingertips over the smooth skin of your side. You let out a gasp, your eyes screwing shut, and he notices the way your hips move of their own accord, trying to scratch an itch you’ve never felt before. He has to bite back a moan of his own just at the sight of you, so beautiful, so willing beneath his capable hands. He lets out a shaky breath as his hand moves up your side, leaning in to kiss you like he said he would, like he was aching to do again, and you accept his lips greedily, your hands pressing into the sides of his face as he glides across your skin, not light enough to tickle, but enough to send tingles over your skin, goosebumps forming in the wake of his caress.
When his hand comes to cup your breast, not daring to flick over the sensitive nub just yet, you let out your second noise as he gives a little squeeze there. This one is muffled by his lips, pressed firmly to yours, and the vibration of it shoots straight down to his cock, which twitches willfully in his pants, wanting you more and more every second that passes.
With a light touch, Eddie lets his thumb just brush your nipple, and it sends an electric shock through you, leading to your third noise, a much sharper sound that almost sounds painful. But when your lips press into his even harder, Eddie is only spurred on and he does it again, then lets his full hand grope over the full mound, rubbing across your breast with his palm. Eddie lets his tongue trace over your bottom lip then, and you open your mouth to him, not really knowing how to kiss with tongue, but unwilling to stop to make a comment about it as your body ignites to a new level of fire and electricity.
Your legs are continuously rubbing together now, the friction glorious but not enough, and you want to feel more. You’re panting in between the long stretches of kissing, and while you don’t want to stop, you also need to tell Eddie what you want. So, instead of rushing back to his kiss, you press your thumb gently to his bottom lip, pupils blown with need. “Can you take my shorts off?” You ask, your confidence building. Eddie nods all too eagerly, and he gets up onto his knees to shift town toward your bottom half. You roll onto your back and lift your butt to make it a bit easier for him, his hands finding purchase at your hips, fingers dipping just below the waistband when he stops.
“Do you want me to take your underwear off too?” He asks, wanting to be sure. You bite your lip again as the embarrassment floods back.
“I’m not wearing any...” You admit, giving a small smile. His hands grip at your hips a bit harder then, and his sharp breath only helps your growing need. This is the most beautiful you’ve ever seen him, towering over you like this. You can see the long outline of his length through his pants now, and you let your mind wonder what could happen if this goes even further than you originally intended. It’s enough to make your hips roll in Eddie’s hands as he starts pulling down your sleep shorts. You close your eyes, trying to keep your embarrassment from making you chicken out when you’re finally about to get what you’ve always wanted.
“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, and your eyes shoot open as you stare at him, mortification building in your chest.
“What? Is it bad? Do I look weird?” You ask in a flurry. Your hands go to cover your face, thighs clenching together to spare yourself when Eddie pries your legs apart again.
“What? God no! You look... You look fucking amazing,” There’s a wonder in his voice, and you peek through your fingers to find him staring down at you, the look on his face amorous, hungry almost, like you’re his favorite meal in the world. It takes you aback, but nevertheless, there’s a twitch in your hips again, seeking a friction that you can no longer achieve for the time being. Eddie gently lowers himself on top of you, and you let out a moan when you feel the fabric of his pants brushing over your bare pussy. You let your hands fall as you try to push yourself into him, but there’s a hand holding onto your hip now to keep you down. “Oh my god, please, can you try not to do that right now? I am already in serious danger here, angel. If I feel even a little bit of you against my dick I’m fucking done for,” Eddie breathes a laugh to cover the moan in his voice, his face hovering over yours.
“B-but I want—” Eddie cuts you off with a deep kiss, his hand squeezing into your hip as you desperately try to feel him against you again.
“Not tonight, sweetheart. I want this one to be about you, okay? If you still want to in the morning, we can circle back,” Eddie offers, and you give a small nod. “Okay, then. I’m gonna touch you now, okay? I’ll go nice and slow. If you want me to change what I’m doing, just tell me,” You nod again and the hand gripping your hip travels down and his lips meet the hollow of your neck, giving just a tiny nip at the skin that sends your hips up again in need. Eddie tries to hold it in, but he can’t help but moan softly against your skin as he continues his journey.
His fingers ghost just over the sensitive bud of nerves then, and the shock that goes through your body is even more intense than before when he was playing with your nipple. Your arms fling around his back and you grip the fabric of his t-shirt like a lifeline. “I’m gonna take good care of you,” Eddie whispers as he travels up your neck, “I’m gonna make you feel so good,”
The promise is punctuated by a soft circle around your clit, and your whimper is so pathetic it startles you as it tumbles from your lips. You can feel how wet you are now; how hot your core is against his fingertips. It’s so blissful, so wanton that you feel your walls clenching around nothing, another new feeling that sends your head reeling. Eddie continues his gentle pattern around your bud, sucking sweet bruises into the skin below your ear between whispers of sweet nothing that spur you forward on your quest into the unknown world of this beautiful feeling.
“E-Eddie,” You plead, head thrown back in pleasure. Your fingers pull his shirt so that your hands connect with his skin, “Can you go—Can you go a little f-faster, please?” Eddie nods into the crook of your neck as he complies, fingers moving just a bit faster, a bit firmer against you, and your chest starts heaving in pants again, moans spilling from your mouth more freely now. You grind into his hand pathetically as the intense pleasure grows. You feel like you could cry at the feeling, so blissful and beautiful and everything you’ve ever dreamed of as Eddie works you further and further, his lips only ever leaving your skin to whisper sweet nothings to you.
“You’re doing so good... I can’t believe I get to do this for you... Been wanting you like this for so long...” Eddie nips and sucks and licks across your neck, up your face, across your lips, and you’re just so consumed by him that you feel hot little pinpricks in the corners of your eyes, your throat going thick as the tears begin.
When Eddie catches sight of the first one, he slows his work on your core, afraid that you had changed your mind. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” You feel a pang of panic then, not really knowing why but knowing that you were desperate to reach the edge you were approaching. You pull at his shirt, not being able to verbalize your excruciating need for a second.
“No, no!” You plead, “Don’t stop, please... I just... Please don’t stop...” You don’t know why you’re crying. Maybe because it feels so good, maybe because the emotions are just so new that your body is startled by them. Either way, Eddie is reluctant but believes you, because he trusts you and you trust him so completely that you don’t think that there’s any way that either of you would or even could hurt each other.
Eddie picks up the pace again, his lips focusing on yours now to help keep you from crying. Your fingernails scratch up his back as you whine and writhe beneath him, coming closer and closer to something. There’s a tenseness in your stomach now, and it’s building. There must be a precipice close, a pinnacle to all of this pleasure and need Eddie has been giving you. Your panting breaths become more ragged, and Eddie gets the feeling that you’re close.
“That’s it, angel. You gonna cum for me?” He practically moans against your mouth, and it’s another agonizing minute of this pressure inside you building before you feel it.
Your hands clench Eddie’s shirt as you unravel. Your tears are flowing freely down your face, mouth open in a loud moan that reverberates on the walls of Eddie’s small room. Eddie keeps drawing circles over your clit as you ride through the waves of your first ever orgasm, kissing down to the top of your chest and back up to add to the pleasure. Finally, you feel it start to subside, the wide waves lessening into ripples as your breath starts to even out again. Eddie slows down again, and finally stops after a few more seconds, wanting to draw out your bliss as much as he can. He kisses you deeply, the hand on your pussy traveling up to grip your side, sliding up past the hem of your shirt as he holds you firm. You can feel the slick on his fingers cooling down on your skin, and it sends a new wave of shivers through your body.
You kiss each other for a long time, not wanting to go back to reality where you’re just friends, but finally you have to pull away for air. You look at each other, both of you quiet. There’s a new electricity in the air, charged with the anticipation of what you’ll say to each other now that everything has changed.
“How was that?” Eddie settles on, his brow set in a concerning furrow. He wants to make sure that you had the best experience he could’ve offered you, because that’s what you deserve. You deserve to feel this good all the time.
Your soft eyes bore into his and you nod slowly, trying to etch every detail of this night into your memory forever. “It was amazing. You are...” Your hand comes to hold his face, and he leans into your touch in such a way that your heart melts for him even more. “You’re so amazing, Eddie, thank you.” You give a little laugh then, at how silly it sounds for you to thank your friend for giving you an orgasm. Eddie laughs a little too, and he stretches his lips to kiss the edge of your palm.
“Anything for my favorite girl,” He whispers, smiling that easy smile that you love so much. Pride sparkles in your chest at his words. God, you love him so much...
“So...” You feel a blush creeping on your face again, “You’ve been wanting me... like this?” You think back to the words he whispered against your neck that made your insides turn to mush.
Eddie flicks his eyes away from you, embarrassed. “You caught that, huh?”
“Was I not supposed to?” You giggle, your smile sending shockwaves through Eddie’s body.
“Well, I just didn’t think you would. You seemed to be pretty distracted if I recall,” He jabs playfully, his gaze returning to you. His eyes soften at his next thought, “What do you think about that?”
This is it, this is where everything changes. It’ll never be the same after this. “I...” You begin, building your courage. “I’ve been wanting that, too.”
Eddie’s face moves through confusion, surprise, and then settles on joy, his smile widening to reach his sparking brown eyes. “Yeah? You’ve been wanting that too?” Your smile matches his as you nod, letting out a breath of a laugh with the relief settling in your chest.
Suddenly, Eddie squeezes you in a bone crushing hug, peppering kisses over your face as you giggle. His lips settle on yours again, and it’s like taking a drink of cool water after wandering in the desert. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to this, but by God, you’d be happy to.
You keep kissing and cuddling for a long time, talking like you usually do, how best friends do, but now it’s just better. Best friends, but there’s no more hesitancy, no more wishing for more, because now, you have everything you could ever want.
#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things fic#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie#eddie x reader#eddie x fem!reader#eddie my beloved
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Sometimes, I feel like I am the void
I like that feeling
It is more of a passing thought, really
I think, “I am a void”, and it makes me feel something
I am an endless expanse, something some people like, some people fear
It is a feeling that makes me happy
Other times, I feel like I am an eldritch being
I do not know what I am
But I know I am something
I like that feeling
I am higher than human, if only for a moment
Something other than human, something unexplainable
I do not know what I am
But that feeling makes me happy
I like these feelings, because otherwise, there is nothing
Nothing but apathy, and impassive outlook on life
And yet, despite that, simple things still look pretty
I like being a void, I like being something other
But even when I am nothing, everything around me is beautiful
#forgotten says stuff#you know this started because i was mentally describing how i sometimes feel like a void#and also sometimes feel like something not human#but then decided to add that yknow i dont always feel like that#but then decided that felt too...sad? i guess#fun fact i searched up what impassive was because i didnt remember its meaning#then i remembered apathy was a word#when i say nothing i mean i just feel normal#what do people normally feel like wait#this is just like not knowing how people feel gender#anyways have a nice day
0 notes
Text
Who Needs Time Management When I Have You?
pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: one of the many perks of having a boyfriend with flawless memory is that you do not have to remember stuff—he remembers them for you.
genre: tooth-rotting domestic fluff
word count: 1.5k
author's notes: i wrote this because domestic!spencer reid is a guilty pleasure of mine. i can definitely picture him as an attentive boyfriend because aside from the fact that he has flawless memory, he's an overall caring guy. with that said, i hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).
ONE OF THE MANY PERKS OF HAVING A BOYFRIEND WITH FLAWLESS MEMORY IS THAT YOU DO NOT HAVE TO REMEMBER STUFF—HE REMEMBERS THEM FOR YOU. Do you have a dentist's appointment at 9? Covered. He will be waking you up at 7 with breakfast in bed. Your sister’s birthday is coming up. No worries! He has already ordered a bouquet ready to be sent on the day. It is amazing, and you thank your lucky stars for him every morning when you wake up and see him cozily sleeping beside you.
However, you were out of luck on the boyfriend angle today. You had your monthly—or if the BAU is free—girls' night scheduled tonight. As much as you enjoy having girls' nights with the BAU girls, Spencer also likes to spend some time out with the guys for a nightcap or something, whatever the men at the BAU enjoy when there is no case. And that means, your boyfriend is busy getting ready to go out as well. Although Spencer has never forgotten a thing in his life—even when he is on the brink of life and death—you do not want to stress him out even more by asking him what you think you have forgotten to prepare.
So, today when you were running around the house like a madman trying to collect the stuff you need to bring to Garcia’s for girls' night, you have no one else to blame but yourself. You have depended on your boyfriend to remember stuff for you that you always leave the preparation at the very last minute. At the moment, you believe you’ve never hated yourself as much as you did now, which is quite the feat considering that you’ve hated yourself a lot before for chickening out on confessing your feelings to boy wonder—your boyfriend, Spencer Reid—only to find out he shares the same feelings.
Scratch that, you hate your boyfriend right now more than you hate yourself.
Currently, that same boyfriend has been snickering nonstop at you dashing left and right and gathering the things you need to bring. Face masks? Check. Wine? Check. What else were you forgetting?
“You know, there’s this study that says only 82% of people have a time management system.”
Your ever-loving boyfriend, Spencer, decided to share. You were about to chuck the throw pillow at him because you could hear the I told you so in his voice, but you knew his fact-sharing and nagging was his unique way of saying, “I love you, but you could’ve remedied this problem by preparing the stuff you’ll need the night before.”
“No, I don’t, Spence. But, do tell.”
At this point, you’re pretty sure Spencer was sporting a shit-eating grin and was probably holding in a laugh at the strain in your voice from recalling whether you’ve got everything so you can head over to Garcia’s. You’re pretty sure Garcia is about to talk your ear off if you’re running late. You missed out on the last girls' night after you bailed on them, wanting to spend the night with Spencer, watching Star Wars, and eating takeout.
“There's a survey done recently which revealed that 90% of people say better time management can lead to increased productivity.” Spencer started explaining, hands waving around as if to demonstrate the numbers in front of him. “However, only 18% of people have a proper time management system.”
“And?”
“Well, it just reminded me of you.” Spencer pursed his lips now, as he tried to explain his thoughts without annoying you. “If you just had a proper time management system like a to-do list or a planner. You could save at least..” He stared at his watch and did the math, “You could save at least one hour and forty-three minutes of your time instead of panicking over whether you got all the things you need for girls' night.”
“I don’t need that when I have you. Don’t you think so?”
This made your boyfriend blush, and you giggled, heading towards his direction, so you could wrap your hands around his waist and bury your face into his chest. You were the luckiest person alive for getting to date someone as wonderful as Spencer.
What you just said would not have made anyone flush and nervous, but Spencer was different. You knew he’s never been in a formal relationship with anyone before you. Thus, from time to time, he still gets embarrassed by your antics which you’ll always be endeared by. You live to see your boyfriend getting flustered because it gives you a reason to shower him with affection like now.
“I love you too, Spence.”
You looked up at your boyfriend, who looked like he was about to burst from your directness. You and he may deal with a lot of blood and gore during work, but he can be the most fainthearted person alive when it came to your affections.
“B-but I didn’t say I love you..” He trailed off, confused as to why you were suddenly proclaiming your love for him. You grinned even more as you pinched the tip of his nose.
“You didn’t have to, Spence. I know your nagging is one way of you saying you love me, and I love you for that.”
Spencer scrunched his nose and rubbed the back of his neck out of shyness. If you could keep him in your pocket for safekeeping, you would. He’s just too precious for this world.
“But, as much as I love you, I know just as much that Penelope will have my ass kicked by Emily if I get to her house late,” you broke free from your boyfriend’s comfy arms, checking the bags you packed while doing so. “I have to go, baby. I think I got everything I need.”
Picking up your bag and care package, you ruffled your boyfriend’s brown locks, which made him frown a bit and sigh. You snickered at his reaction and proceeded to walk towards the front door. You were about to reach the staircase just outside your shared apartment when you realized something.
You forgot your car keys.
Berating yourself in your head, you were certain once you entered that door, Spencer would be on your case like a mother duck. He can be too fretful when it comes to you. Oh well, that is one thing you love about him. Huffing, you slowly turned the doorknob and found Spencer leaning on the wall just inside the door with his arms crossed, looking at you smugly. You rolled your eyes.
One thing about Spencer Reid is he can be a cocky little shit when proven right. And that happens most—if not all—the time, with his IQ of 187 and eidetic memory. Unfortunately for him, he also happened to date a cocky little shit—you—who likes to fluster the living lights out of him. And right now, you just thought of the perfect way to get back at him.
But first, your car keys. Spencer next.
Once you have retrieved the pesky item—like it’s the car keys’ fault, you forgot to get them—you turned towards the door, not paying any attention to your boyfriend, who was already cracking up at you. Only when you’ve reached the door, your back towards Spencer, did you smirk. Oh, he’ll never know what’s coming to him. You did a U-turn and
“Forgot something, sweetheart?”
“Why, yes I did, Dr. Reid,” you stated plainly, beelining towards him, making him take a few steps back until he ended up with his back against the wall. He's so easy to fluster. "I forgot to do this."
You slanted your head and pressed your lips against his. Your bodies were snug against each other as you kissed heatedly against the wall. You could feel the flutter of his long lashes against your cheeks as he parted his lips slightly to kiss you deeper. You could taste your shared breath, smell his faint perfume, and feel the slight scruff of a stubble about to show up. Warmth blossomed in your chest when you felt Spencer caress your face as if you were fine porcelain.
Kissing Spencer Reid never gets old in your books. Despite his lack of romantic experience and being the eager researcher that he was, Spencer was an eager lover—he would kiss you every chance he'd get to know how to please you, which paid off, by the way. This may be a biased opinion but you think the best kisses you have shared were with Spencer.
However, like all good things, kissing Spencer has to end, or Garcia will have you banned from her house for running late.
You pulled away from Spencer and grinned at him, to which he returned with a stunned smile. You chuckled when you noticed your lipstick smudged on the corner of his lips and brushed a finger to erase it. You wouldn't want your boyfriend to be the subject of Morgan's teasing once they're together after this. Noticing the daze your boyfriend is under is about to wear off, and he was about to say something, you beat him to it by pressing a smooch on his nose and pulling away completely.
"I gotta go, Dr. Reid. Don't miss me too much!"
You scampered towards the door and shot a wink at your bewildered boyfriend—who was now sputtering in indignation for interrupting what he was about to say. He is so cute.
#criminal minds#criminal minds series#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fic#spencer reid#dr. spencer reid#spencer reid fandom#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid angst#spencer reid smut#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x you#tooth rotting fluff#domestic bliss#established relationship
4K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! I really enjoy your one piece writings, they have given me so much comfort when I don't feel okay 😭
Can I please get a Mihawk (I'm completely in love w this man aah) imagine where his wife is a sensitive person who gets sad when someone is rude to them but they feel insecure couse they think it's stupid
Thank youuuuuu ❤️🥺
First of all, I'm honoured that I can provide a source of comfort to you. I'm glad my work has made you feel better in your time of need.
Second of all: oh yessss bestie this hits the spot. It also reminds me of a wonderful scene in The Gentlemen (10/10, highly recommend)
[it also hits close to home because I am a sensitive person]
The thing about strong people is that they make others want to be just as strong, which isn't always easy if even possible. You've always known you're a little 'softer' than most people but only after marrying Mihawk did you find the difference in temperament bothersome. Instead of considering your sensitivity a fact of nature, you've begun to find it a flaw, something that you should change about yourself.
You've never admitted it to yourself but the truth is plain and simple - you think it's embarrassing. That Mihawk will find your sensitivity embarrassing. Maybe if you had been up-front about it with your husband, you'd learn that he adores your soft heart. If he felt forthcoming enough, perhaps you'd even hear that you're the source of warmth and light in his life. Hence he calls you his 'sun'.
To say that Mihawk grew concerned when he heard your muffled sobs would be like not saying anything. A delicious euphemism at best. Anger and fear bubble inside his chest. There's a strange itch in his hands that eggs him to wreak havoc.
"Apple of my eye," his voice carries well through the rather empty room you're both staying at currently. "What is the meaning of this?"
Frantically wiping away your tears, you look over your shoulder to meet his gaze. Mihawk is leaning against the doorframe, blocking the entrance if you so wish to run away from this situation.
"Oh, it's nothing. Really, I'm alright. No need to worry," you half-heartedly attempt to reassure him.
The swordsman loudly exhales through his nose. He's your husband, worrying about you is his duty. In slow steps, Mihawk walks over to the edge of the bed where you're sitting. Pride and titles as if forgotten, he drops on one knee in front of you. One of his hands gently squeezes your knee.
Unsure what's the best way to go about these circumstances, you timidly meet his intense gaze. The passion in his yellow eyes makes you think of a maelstrom captured in a jar - something devastating held back by a miracle. He's already seething, just doesn't yet know who exactly to direct his violence at.
"Indulge me," he prompts you to confide in him. There's a rare sense of pleading in his tone.
So indulge him you do - you tell Mihawk all about the unpleasant encounter with a local tearaway. Your husband tries his best to control his expression as you recount the unambiguously offensive words, unwanted touches and threats of real violence coming from someone who was probably looking for a cowardly scapegoat to vent his anger. As you continue your story, tears just keep rolling down your cheeks, fear and humiliation finally finding their way out of your heart.
"I know I'm being stupid," you mumble as you clumsily wipe your face, "he was just rude and it's not like he actually hurt me but-"
Mihawk's touch makes you cut your sentence short. His hand, its skin rough and calloused, gently cups the side of your face. Your hot, salty tears disperse as his thumb slowly rubs them away. Something about the tenderness of his touch, of hands that have killed and maimed, is enough to make you feel like you're about to break in his arms. Even if you do, you know that when dawn breaks you will be whole again, put back together with the unending love Mihawk holds for you.
"You've always been too good, my sun," he tells you in a low voice. He could have said 'too soft' or 'too sensitive' but then his remark would come off as deceitful as it would suggest his dislike towards your nature. Nothing of that sort - Mihawk genuinely thinks you're a better person than most people walking this plane. And he'd rather succumb to torture than let anyone make you feel bad about that.
The man leans in and places his warm lips against your forehead. Without much effort, he lays you down on the bed and you let him. Even if you wanted to fight back, you're way too tired to do so.
He's sitting on the edge of the bed, caressing your face, neck, arms and back as he's waiting for you to fall asleep. The anticipation doesn't require much patience - Mihawk's tender touches lull you to peaceful slumber rather swiftly. When he's sure that you're asleep, he kisses your forehead again before cautiously leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind him.
Perhaps he can't turn back the time and make the offending man choke on his words but he can ensure that the tearway won't hurt you ever again. Someone resting in peace so you can rest peacefully is a good bargain.
Mihawk knows exactly who he's looking for. He made a note of a certain characteristic trait you had mentioned - an earring with a single, red-coloured feather. It doesn't seem like a piece of jewellery that would be common anywhere.
It doesn't take much to find the tearaway. He makes his presence well-known as he stumbles out of a tavern, his legs almost giving away with each step.
So he assaults random women minding their business and then gets blackout drunk. It's pathetic enough to consider his death merciful.
Staying true to his name, the swordsman stalks his prey before lunging. Appearing as another patron of the inn, Mihawk follows the stranger around the corner towards barns, stables and pigstys. Fitting place for the likes of him, Dracule thinks to himself.
The man with the curious earring staggers his way towards a drinking trough. He's fumbling with his pants, desperately trying to pull them down to relieve himself but his fingers are not dextrious enough.
Mihawk picks up the pitchfork leaning against the barn wall. In one, swift motion he gores the tool through the back of the man's knee. A guttural scream tears through the night as he falls to the ground.
The swordsman grabs a fistful of the tearaway's hair. He forces the kneeling man to look up into his seething, yellow eyes.
"Do I owe you money?" The man is slurring his words. He squints his eyes, trying to focus his hazy vision on Mihawk and, possibly, recognize his creditor. "It's money, isn't it? Shit, just give me two days, man. I'll give it back with interest."
"I don't care about money."
Instantaneously, panic appears in the tearaway's eyes. Did he just find himself in the same position he's put hundreds of people in to cure his own boredom and need for grandiosity?
"Then what it is?!" he shouts, fear settling in his viscera. Dracule's calmness put together with the sheer hatred emanating from him makes for a deeply unsettling impression.
"You hurt my wife," comes the answer. The fist clenching the man's hair tightens its hold further, threatening to tear off his scalp. "My wife," Mihawk growls.
But before the tearaway can ask for clarification, his head is forced into the drinking trough. Surprised and scared, oxygen is escaping him fast. Soon, his throat and chest begin to clench and throb painfully. Dark spots dance across his vision, foreboding blindness.
Then, Mihawk pulls his head just above the surface. The man desperately gasps for air.
"If you believe in a god," the swordsman begins in a low voice shaking with anger and adrenaline, "I suggest you start praying. Fast."
The tearaway's head is forced underwater again but this time, Mihawk keeps it there until the ruffian's body stops trembling and shaking. After that, Dracule waits for a while longer - just for good measure.
You're woken up by the creaking of doors as they slowly open. Blinking sleep away from your eyes, you look over your shoulder only to experience a sort of deja vu: Mihawk is standing in the doorway. Before you can ask about his strange behaviour, your husband makes his way to you in long, quick strides. He kneels on the floor beside the bed.
Mihawk takes your hand in his. He takes something out of his pocket and places it in your palm. You recognize the red feather earring immediately. And is that... a piece of skin still attached to it? Gently, your husband closes your fist and lifts your hand to place a chaste kiss on your knuckles.
"The rat has paid for its sins," he whispers to you. Judging by the intense look in his eyes, you don't want to know the details of this story.
#one piece x reader#one piece#mihawk x reader#mihawk x you#mihawk imagine#mihawk fanfiction#mihawk fanfic#dracule mihawk#mihawk#dracule mihawk x reader#dracule mihawk x you#dracule mihawk fanfiction#dracule mihawk fanfic#dracule mihawk imagine#one piece fanfiction#one piece imagine#one piece mihawk#one piece dracule mihawk#one piece x you#one piece fanfic#one piece live action#opla#mihawk opla#dracule mihawk opla
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
A Birthday Affair
Summary: It's your birthday and your best friend is making you a cake! Too bad she's left you home alone with her boyfriend, Anakin. She should've known you two had a thing for each other, right?
Content warnings: cheating, p in v sex, creampie, daddy kink
WC: 2.6k
“Alright guys, there’s only one shop that sells the buttercream we need and it’s way at the other end of town.” Padme shouts tiredly, grabbing her coat by the door. “Could’ve sworn I’d already picked some up…but anything for the birthday girl. I might be a while so make sure you keep an eye on the cake in the oven!”
“We’re not that incompetent, Padme.” Anakin rolls his eyes.
“Of course, we got it!” You answer as she leaves and turn to face Anakin. “You should really be nicer to her.”
“I’m plenty nice.” He responds. “And you’re the birthday girl, it’s you I need to be nice to.”
“But she’s your girlfriend. You’re obligated to be nice to her all year round.” You put the empty batter bowl into the sink as Anakin stares at you across the kitchen, leaning against the countertops.
“I’m about as nice to her as she is to me.” He murmurs and you look back in confusion. Were they having issues you didn’t know about?
“That couldn’t be further from the truth, Padme is the perfect girlfriend and you-“ You paused, looking at him up and down with a light scowl. “-well you’re you.”
“Ah, so you think I’m not good enough for her? How cliche.” He gives you a look of displeasure. “And what is it that makes me so unworthy of her company?”
“You’re not bad per se, you’re just…” You sigh, struggling to put your thoughts into words. “Look at it this way- Padme is one of those rare people. She manages to balance being successful and beautiful with somehow being humble and kind- I know for a fact she wakes up every morning to make you breakfast- and she does things like drive all over the city looking for a specific frosting for her best friend. That’s just the kind of person she is.” You ramble on, walking around the kitchen as Anakin stares at you in fascination.
“And then there’s you, who’s forgotten every anniversary and has been fired from every job because of his inability to control his temper. You see what I’m getting at?”
Anakin furrows his thick brows as he processes what you’re saying and you think he might get mad at you for a second but to your relief, he cracks a bright smile.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as much of a mess as you are. Just as unworthy.“ You laugh and a puzzling smirk crosses his face.
“So you’re saying I should be with someone better suited for me?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Someone like…you?” He raises an eyebrow.
You chuckle nervously and take a step back, suddenly aware of how close he’d gotten.
“Obviously not. I-I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.” Stuttering, you try to move away from him but he doesn’t budge, tall figure towering over you. That stupid smirk he has plastered over his face increases your heart rate tenfold.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Have I got you flustered?” He sneers.
“Stop playing around.” You push him away by his chest and escape to the sofa, slumping down it with a huff.
“Padme told me about the little crush you had on me.” He stands behind you and you refuse to face him, consumed with embarrassment.
“Crush is too strong of a word for what that was.” You feel your cheeks burning up at the memory; when you first met Anakin at that bar last Christmas, you’ll admit you initially wanted him all to yourself. But what were you supposed to do when Padme got to him first? You can’t believe she told him.
“So you don’t find me attractive anymore?” He asks in that provocative tone of his.
“The outer shell is fine but the inside could do with a little work.” You feign confidence, avoiding the question. To be truthful, you found him incredibly attractive. So much so that you actively avoided him because you felt yourself folding under pressure anytime he was near.
“Can I let you in on a little secret?” He asked quietly, taking a seat on the footstool across the sofa.
“No, but I sense you’re going to anyway.” You brace yourself.
“That night I saw you and Padme playing pool at the bar.” He begins. “I wanted to approach you, not her.”
Your breath hitches in your throat.
“But she came up to me first and when I asked her who her friend was, she told me you weren’t interested…in men.” Your mouth widens as his words linger in the air.
“I-I don’t know what to say.” You stutter, feeling a small sense of betrayal run through you. “I don’t know why she’d do that.”
“Because she knew she wouldn’t stand a chance otherwise.” He gets up to sit next to you and you tense up at his knee lightly brushing past yours.
“I thought you were a lesbian for half the time I’ve known you- until you started dating that loser a few months ago and Padme had to come clean. She thought I’d find it funny.” He curls his lip in disgust.
“And did you?”
“No.” He responds, steely eyes staring right through you. “I’m still mad about it.”
“Anakin…” You cautiously murmur, sensing the direction this could so easily take.
“I’m just saying, remember that next time you want to rant about how great she is. If it wasn’t for her deceit, it could’ve been us together.” He rests his hand on your leg but you swiftly brush it off.
“But it’s not. And it never will be. You’ll always either be her boyfriend or her ex. Either way, you’re off limits.” You try to assert some boundaries before your self-control completely slips away from you.
“And if it weren’t for these limits?” He reaches his hand up, tucking your hair behind your ear.
“Oh God, the cake! Must go and check on the cake.” You get up, trying to escape his grasp but he pushes you back down.
“I said what if it weren’t for those limits?” He repeats sternly and you can’t help but fixate on his rosy pink lips. You’d always wondered how they’d feel pressed up against yours.
“In another galaxy where you’d never met her-“ You sigh, walls crumbling down. “then I’d be yours.”
“Is that what you want?” His husky voice mutters, barely above a whisper.
“It doesn’t matter because this isn’t another galaxy. This is reality.” You shuffle back a little in an attempt to impose some distance between you.
“Fuck reality. I want you.” He pulls you in and you’re hit with a wave of warmth radiating off his firm body.
“Anakin, no. Padme is my best friend! I’m not a homewrecker.” You cry out, unsure whether you’re trying to convince him or yourself.
“You can’t wreck something that’s already fallen apart. I don’t care about her— I don’t care about any of it anymore. For God’s sake, I even hid the damn buttercream because I wanted her to leave us alone for a while.” Your mouth gapes open at his revelation.
“I knew it!” You point your finger at him but he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you onto him, faces barely an inch apart.
“I need you. In every way possible.” His voice is so breathy it makes you squeeze your thighs together.
“Ugh, Ani I-“
“Do you want me as much as I want you? Please, put me out of my misery.” He whines and you bite your lip over the beautiful desperation in his words.
“Of course I want you, I’ve always wanted you.” The words barely leave your mouth before he grabs your face with both hands and kisses you sloppily, grip on your jaw a little too strong. He has you gasping for air, stubbornly holding onto you like it was the last kiss he’d ever have.
“Don’t you worry about her, I’ll take care of everything.” He rubs your cheek with his thumb comfortingly and you feel all your worries melt away; he was here, he would fix it all.
“I’ve thought about this for so long.” You cry, pawing at him. The sense of elation you felt at finally being able to touch him, inhale him, taste him- after an eternity of forcing every feeling down. You did it all out of respect for Padme, out of respect for Ani who chose her- but now that you’d learned the truth, restraint flew out the window. He should’ve been yours- he is yours.
“Lie down for me sweetheart, I wanna see my pretty girl.” He pushes you down onto the sofa and inches your skirt down, admiring your pretty pink panties. “You wear these just for me?” You nod frantically- it’s true, you wore everything for him. Your best underwear, your prettiest lipstick, your shortest little skirts, it was all for him. He pushes your top up slowly, messy kisses being planted all over your tummy until he reaches your perky tits.
“Is there a reason you’re not wearing a bra, young lady?” He scolds you playfully.
“Mhm, it’s fun watching you fight the urge to stare at the way they bounce and jiggle.”
“You noticed that, huh?” You giggle at his honesty as he rips your top off, laughter instantly replaced with breathy moans as he squeezes your boobs harshly, taking turns sucking on the nipples.
“Best pair of tits I’ve seen in my life.” He mutters into your chest as he continues to kiss and lick all over, making you writhe underneath him.
“Ani, please.” You buck your hips up towards him, desperately needing more. “Hurry, we don’t know when she’ll be home.”
“Then it’s a good thing the door bolts shut from the inside.” He grins, hands trailing down between your thighs.
“Ani, no! We can’t lock her out, what would she think?”
“I don’t care, all I know is if I don’t get enough of this sweet pussy, I’m gonna lose my mind.” He groans as he hooks his arms under your legs and pulls you down, pulling your panties to the side. You bashfully cover your face with your hands as he rubs your clit with his thumb and when you peek through your fingers, you see him biting his lip and curving his eyebrows into a pitiful swoop. Just as you think it can’t get better, he lowers his boxers and frees his cock, heavy length slapping against his stomach. Not wanting to inflate his already engorged ego, you try not to look shocked- but he sees right through you.
“You tryin’ to make me feel bad, sweetie? No problem, I’ll have you squealing in a minute anyway.” He confidently asserts and you feel him rubbing his tip along your soaking folds; the anticipation alone is enough to make you throw your head back.
With one sudden thrust, he pushes himself into your tight pussy and you sink your teeth into the pillow beside you to conceal some of the noise. Reaching forward and grabbing it from you, he tosses it aside and grabs you by the jaw.
“I want to hear every little sound you make. Raw and unmuted.” He growls.
“B-but someone might hear-“
“I don’t give a fuck.” He asserts aggressively. “Let them hear. They might as well start getting used to it now.” You moan at his depraved words, drool forming around your lips.
“If you want something in your mouth that bad, here.” He offers you his fingers- which you accept gratefully, sucking and biting on them to your heart’s content. Just as you’ve adjusted, he slides the rest of his cock in- filling you so deeply you question how it’s even possible. The mewling that proceeds boosts Anakin’s ego more than is healthy; you pant and whine so fervently that you look like you’re on the verge of passing out. Your pupils are dilated, your hair messed up, your thighs dampened with arousal and sweat.
“Ani, mm fuck- fill me up, please!” You dig your fingernails into his back as he lowers himself to kiss your wet lips, silencing your sobs and pleading if only for a moment.
“You want my cum, sweetheart? You wanna be daddy’s cum slut, hm? Let me hear you say it.” His strokes get deeper and sloppier as he hurtles his way to his release.
“Yes daddy, yes! I wanna be your cum slut so bad, it’s the only thing I want.” You ramble, words barely audible over the loud sounds of smacking and squelching.
“I could never say no to you.” He whispers, head tucked into the crook of your neck planting open-mouth kisses.
“I need it, need it noww.” You whine, tits bouncing into circles as he roughly pounds into you, strong hand maintaining a firm grip on your hip as he rams himself into you one last time: cum spilling from his tender cock and filling you up to the brim. Pulling out, the sensation of his cum dribbling out of you doubled with his thumb circling your clit sends you over the edge, orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. He rests his head on your chest as you both catch your breath, running your fingers through his hair.
“I’m gonna leave her.” He softly speaks. “I’m leaving and I’m telling her about us.”
Your heart seizes in both panic and excitement. There’s an us?
The familiar thud of footsteps in the hallway has you both scrambling to get dressed- you pull your top down and your skirt back on but can’t find your frilly panties anywhere. Anakin just about finishes zipping up his jeans when Padme walks in to the sight of her very flustered-looking best friend and boyfriend, sitting oddly far apart in unnatural positions on the couch.
“Hey guys, I had to check several different stores but I finally found the right buttercream, what have you- wait, do I smell something burning?”
Fuck, you forgot the cake.
Running over to the oven, she scrambles to pull out the smoking tray. Despair takes over her face when she sees the round crust, black as cinder.
“How did you forget?! What were you doing?” She yells, throwing the ashes straight into the bin and frowning at you.
“Nothing, Padme. We just got carried away chatting is all. ‘m really sorry.” You walk over to join her in the kitchen but start to feel Ani’s seed leaking out of your stretched-out hole and dribbling down your thighs. Noticing the glistening sticky wetness, Anakin rushes over in front of you to distract Padme.
“It was my fault, I said I’d keep track of time and I didn’t.” He explains, subtly tossing a kitchen towel your way.
“Classic Anakin, honestly a monkey would have better time management.” She hisses, barging past him and opening windows to let the smoke out. “No wonder you can’t keep a job.” He takes a shaky breath and you can see how hard he’s trying to restrain himself.
“Not now.” You think, giving him a knowing glare and he nods reluctantly. Padme stomps over to the bathroom and you quickly wipe the cummy mess off your thighs, giggling a little at the excitement of sneaking around. Anakin rushes over and gives you a feverish kiss, whispering in your ear “She goes to bed early, you know.”
Maybe you wouldn’t tell her just yet.
@crazy4hotmen @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10
Part 2 here
#hayden christensen#star wars fanfiction#anakin skywalker fanfiction#anakin skywalker smut#anakin x reader#anakin fanfiction#anakin x you#star wars smut#sam monroe#hayden christensen x reader#anakin skywalker#star wars prequels#darth vader#padme amidala#sw prequels
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey! I was wondering if you could do a live action Zoro smut where it's enemies to lovers (boy X girl). I don't mind how hardcore smut (18+?) but I would love if there was some tension (argument or fight!) 😁
speak teeth
ABOUT
| 18+ | smut | explicit |
alternate title: i need the lord
rating: explicit
characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader
pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader
word count: 4.9k
description: you and zoro have never gotten along. after a incident in town escaping from marines, you resolve to sort out your issues with unconventional means. (aka sex.)
tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, enemies to lovers, except it's more like frenemies to frenemies with benefits, kissing, kiss to distract trope, no use of “y/n”, reader calls zoro "roronoa", penis in vagina sex, creampie, pwp, cowgirl position
author’s note: thanks for the request! i kind of lost the plot on this one because i'm terrible at writing enemies-to-lovers and there's not much 'lovers' involved in this since i couldn't exactly fit that into a oneshot. hopefully you still like it anyway? i tried my best.
tags make it seem so much worse than it actually is.
Roronoa Zoro did not like you.
The feeling was mutual, so you didn’t mind the fact, really. Zoro was annoying, with his three swords, and that stupid low voice, and how he never seemed interested in conversation unless it was either about alcohol or beating someone up. You were undoubtedly annoying to him for various reasons not so different in number to your own grievances of his personality. You two didn’t like each other. It was fine. It was normal.
It was pissing off the rest of the Straw Hat crew.
In your defense, you were never outwardly aggressive towards the man. You didn’t purposely exclude him from conversations or avoid looking at him if he dared haunt a room you were in with his presence. You just… didn’t speak to him unless spoken to. And maybe you had a tendency to roll your eyes or mutter some insults when he was talking, but it wasn’t that big of an issue.
Zoro, on the other hand, was a master of discord. He’d killed and hunted so many people it only made sense for him to be, but it seemed he hadn’t skipped his lessons in petty fights either. Because he was bullheaded and a buzzkill and always opened his big mouth when you were around. Those sarcastic remarks of his were common, sure, but when you were in the room they were tenfold and laced with genuine venom.
You weren’t sure who’d even started the strife between you two. It had been so long that you’d forgotten. While everyone else had seemingly bonded after your journey together, you and Zoro remained firmly in the stage you’d been while trapped in Buggy’s green room—antagonistic. Obviously you didn’t hate each other—when Zoro had nearly died to Mihawk, you hadn’t been happy—but you didn’t get along, and both of you were just fine with that arrangement.
Nobody else was, though.
And so obviously you didn’t like it when Luffy announced, as you were docked, that you were assigned to scout the surrounding village together. Your lips twisted, but you refrained from saying anything up until Luffy finished his speech with: “And that’s the plan! Any objections?”
There were head shakes from all around the deck of the Going Merry. You eyed Zoro in the very corner—his arms were crossed, and carefully he raised a hand, just barely lifting it into the air as he motioned. “Why is she coming with me?”
You bit your tongue, suppressing the irritated sigh that threatened to escape. “Because,” Luffy said, bright as ever, “You two need to learn how to be friends. Think of it as a bonding activity!”
“I’d really rather go with Sanji,” you optioned, trying to be more civil than Zoro at least. “He could use a hand carrying the stock barrels.”
“Nope,” Luffy chirped. “It makes most sense for the two of you to be the one to buy the weapons, anyway.”
“He’s right. You both are the most knowledgeable on the subject,” Nami whispered, though she gave you an apologetic look. You sighed. Zoro opted to say nothing.
“Fine. Let’s go, Roronoa,” you said, getting up off the Going Merry’s railing to start walking off the ship. You heard Zoro grumble from behind you, but he soon caught up. You said absolutely nothing to each other for the first few minutes of walking, keeping to yourselves until you eventually reached the market.
“What kind of weapons are we looking for?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at the man who trailed just barely behind you. “I know Luffy wants backups, but did he say specifically what?”
“Probably a few guns, maybe some swords,” Zoro replied. “A katana for me. Extra staff for Nami, in case hers breaks.”
“Right. Nami gave me five-hundred thousand berry. Let’s spend it wisely. No pit stops.”
Zoro gave you a look. “It’s not like I’m going to slip into the nearest tavern and abandon you. Luffy said we go together, so we go together.”
“Right.” You turned away so you could roll your eyes in private. You had to appreciate that, at least; Zoro’s loyalty to Luffy at least meant he wouldn’t be a bitch to you if Luffy told him not to, and Nami kept you more or less under wraps too. “Pistols first. Let’s just get two, and save the rest for a sword because those are more pricey.”
Focusing on business was fine. You could be a responsible adult and not be petty. And it really did go okay for the first half-hour, wherein you bartered one of the weapons sellers down to a reasonable price for two pistols and also picked up a bo staff on the way.
You were just heading towards another district of the town when Zoro slowed to a stop. You glanced over to see what he was looking at—a wall pasted with bounty posters, various pirates plastered on paper with big numbers shouting out their worth.
“Look, it’s Luffy,” you said, eyes catching a bundle of posters near the top. Sure enough, all six members of the Straw Hat crew were there. You noticed with distaste that Zoro’s bounty was higher than yours.
Zoro tore all of the posters off, and you were almost surprised when he took yours off too. He crumpled them up into balls, about to toss them behind his shoulder before you grabbed them, carefully tucking them away in your bag. “What’s that for?” he asked.
“So I can shoot darts at your face,” you replied. “Come on. Should finish and get back to the ship before anyone recognizes us.”
Zoro shrugged, but followed you as you led him to the closest armory you could find. The shop was small and rickety, and a silver bell announced your presence as you entered the building. There were blades of every kind in the shop; you could see a table of knives and daggers, along with a stand full of long swords by the front. Near the back, you glimpsed some hanging rapiers, and—
“Katanas,” Zoro muttered, pushing past you to slip to the back of the store. You sighed, but followed, glancing over the array of jians instead. Zoro was already picking one up and pulling it out of its sheath, checking the quality of the blade.
“Don’t—” you hissed, and he glanced up at you, brow raised in question as he spun the blade around in his hand. “You’re going to knock something over.”
Zoro sheathed the sword, a satisfying click filling the room with the motion. “Calm down.”
“I am calm,” you snapped. “If you’d just stop stomping around with those big boots of yours, though—”
Zoro looked far less affected by the entire ordeal than you did, and that pissed you off even more. Logically, you knew he didn’t show much emotion in general, and even his annoyances tended to be deep and quiet—but still. He strung the katana back up where it belonged. “I am not stomping.”
“Yes, you are—” You cut yourself off as the bell of the store rang again, announcing the arrival of more patrons. These two were whispering to each other, gruff voices that sounded almost scared. “He came in here, right?” One of them asked the other. “Are you sure it’s him?”
“He tore down his own wanted poster!” The other hissed back.
You caught onto what was happening quickly, letting a sigh out from between your teeth and grabbing onto Zoro’s arm to yank him further back into the store. You turned a corner, where a narrow hall cut off at a dead end, a wardrobe of swords blocking off the area to any prying eyes. “Now look at what you did,” you grumbled, before you could stop yourself. “You’ve got fucking bounty hunters after us.” You glanced through the stands of swords for a double take—the pair were standing at the front, outfitted in familiar white-and-blue uniforms. “Scratch that, even worse. Marines.”
“I can take them in a fight,” Zoro muttered, hand going to his swords. You grabbed his wrist and gave him a look.
“No. We’re not due to leave the docks for another two days,” you snapped. “Can you figure out a way to get out of a situation without stabbing someone?”
“How can you be sure it was him, though? The Demon?” The more timid marine asked. They’d started moving, and you shoved Zoro into the corner, attempting to hide his ridiculously broad figure with an armoire of weapons. He scoffed, but made no move to adjust, back flat against the wall.
“He had the three swords. And the three earrings, too. Of course it was him,” the other one replied. You rolled your eyes.
“Ever try being a little less obvious, Roronoa?” you muttered, shooting another glare in Zoro’s direction. “You’re like a flashing red light for every marine within a two-mile radius with your stupid swords. I’m Roronoa Zoro, the pirate hunter!”
“I don’t hear you yelling at Luffy to take his hat off,” Zoro hissed back.
“They’re coming this way,” you answered, entirely ignoring his retort. “Hide your stupid swords. Shove them behind a stand or something.”
“I don’t see why we can’t just—”
“No fighting.” You swiveled around, tugging his holsters off his belt and tossing the swords behind him with a graceless clatter. Zoro just sighed. “Shit,” you muttered as the marines turned at the noise, starting to move towards the back of the store.
“Now look at what you did,” Zoro mumbled, mocking your words straight back at you. You glared at him.
“Shut up and stay put,” you snapped. “Let me think of something.” The marines were coming closer, and you huffed out a nervous breath. Zoro watched you from his position.
“They know your face, too,” he said carefully. Almost derisively, like he was looking down on your idea; making you seem stupid. “Just let me fight them. It makes the most sense.” The footsteps grew louder, then, the marines moving towards the back of the store.
“I think I heard voices,” one of them muttered to the other. You shushed Zoro, unconsciously moving closer to him until your arm bumped into his. You startled, and then looked up, finding Zoro’s chest just inches away from your face.
“Is this some new sort of hiding tactic?” Zoro asked, voice dry as a desert. “Are you trying to melt us into the wall—”
The voices tapered off as the marines moved closer. Your hand shot up to cradle Zoro’s face, covering his dangling gold earrings with your fingers to hide them away. “Fuck this,” Zoro muttered, leaning back to pick up his swords. You shushed him, and he stopped, bent halfway over you so your faces were just inches apart.
“Just trust me,” you snapped. Zoro opened his mouth to argue, but then the marines’ footsteps got louder—they’d turn the corner any moment now.
“Fine,” he breathed. “But if it doesn’t work, I’m taking out my swords.”
Your mind ran a million miles a minute trying to figure out what to do. The marines were just around the corner now, and your breath caught, eyes meeting Zoro’s as you wracked your brain for something, anything that might distract the marines away from the two of you. Zoro’s lips parted, a split-second away from undoubtedly whispering some grand insult when the marines finally turned the corner.
You were kissing Zoro before you could even think.
“Oh,” one of the marines said, as your fingers nearly pinched Zoro’s earlobe, still covering his earrings. Zoro was frozen for a moment, but the marines behind you seemed startled enough that he realized it was working. A rush of satisfaction filled you for a moment—see, Roronoa, you don’t have to stab shit all the time—before Zoro was kissing you back.
And. Well. You’d started it, but you had not anticipated this.
Zoro was almost rough, his hand curling around the nape of your neck and tugging you down closer to him. His other hand came to rest on your waist, so impossibly big around your torso that you shivered. What had started out as a simple kiss slipped into one all messy, your breaths coming out in sharp gasps as Zoro barely gave you a moment to breathe.
His teeth dug into your lip, and you groaned into his mouth, tongue darting along his gums with the motion. He snickered at that, and you felt a little bundle of vexation starting at the pit of stomach at the sound. You ran your tongue into the crevices of his mouth, licking into him with ease. Another rush of satisfaction filled you as Zoro’s grip tightened on your waist. You were winning.
He fought back just as hard, practically merciless as his tongue slid against yours, prying into your mouth like he was trying to bare you empty of secrets. You felt stripped raw like this, but it wasn’t a terrible feeling—the opposite, actually, soft whimpers leaving your lungs as he dug more fiercely into you. Zoro sucked on your lower lip with teeth, and you barely managed to suppress the stuttered sound it tugged out from the back of your throat.
There were hasty footsteps receding somewhere behind you, which was the only sound that snapped you out of your motions. You were the first to break away—another score gained there—glancing over your shoulder to ensure the marines had really left before fully detaching yourself from Zoro. The silver bell rung again, signaling the marines had made their exit, and you let out a relieved sigh.
Zoro glanced over your shoulder, straightening his clothes as his tongue ran along his top teeth. The top teeth you’d had your tongue on just seconds ago. “If you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just said so.”
“I did not—” You sucked in a breath, all your general irritated feelings towards the man coming back at full force with just that one sentence. “Shut the fuck up. I got us out of the situation, didn’t I?”
“You have questionable methods,” Zoro replied, leaning over to pick up his abandoned swords and strap them back along his hip. “Don’t think about that all night.”
“You were not that good of a kisser,” you snapped, though you could feel your face getting hot. Your mouth tingled, like you could still taste him on your tongue; on your teeth; in your gums. There was a vaguely empty sensation at the curve of your waist you tried your best to ignore. “Don’t be so full of yourself. Roronoa. Now pick a sword to buy so we can leave already.”
Zoro seemed irritated, but he complied, brushing past you to inspect a few more of the swords before picking out one. You paid for it as quickly as possible, in a rush to get back to the ship; not even trying to talk the salesman down from his price like you usually would.
Zoro followed you languidly, absolutely nothing urgent about his motions as you trailed after you back through the village. You wanted to uppercut him so badly.
“Oh, there you guys are,” Usopp said upon stepping foot back onto the Going Merry. You shot him an apologetic smile before breezing past, beelining for your bedroom without a second thought. “Uh—okay! You good?” he called after you, but you were too far away to respond at this point.
You slammed the door of your room shut upon entering, heaving out a breath of jumbled emotion all in one go. Fuck Roronoa Zoro and his three stupid swords and his three stupid earrings. He was the most lumbering, bullheaded oaf you’d ever had the displeasure of engaging with.
He’d been a ridiculously good kisser. Now you hated him even more.
You locked yourself in your room for the next four hours, busying yourself with various tasks whilst simultaneously seething over Zoro. It wasn’t even that he’d done anything specifically to you in the past. You just—didn’t get along, really. He was irritating, and stupid, and always tried to solve his problems with a blade rather than attempting to use his wits. Not that he had any wits of any kind. He was—
He was, as you were starting to find out, kind of attractive. Which. Okay. You’d known his face was at least easy on the eyes, despite his personality and general attitude not retaining the same qualities. But this was an entirely unappreciated development.
Someone knocked on your door, snapping you out of your irritated haze. The sun had nearly set, a kiss of dusk coming in from outside as you shuffled over to the door. You yanked it open. “What—”
Zoro was standing in the doorway, arm propped against the side and keeping your door open even as you attempted to close it on him. “Roronoa.”
“You’re hiding,” Zoro said, a tinge of mirth just barely visible in his eyes. You glared at him.
“I am not.”
“Do you have to disagree with everything I say?” Zoro asked. He was still wearing his swords even now, though he’d dressed down as the hour grew late. “You skipped dinner.”
“Leave me alone,” you muttered.
Zoro took that as an invitation to step fully into the room. “I told the rest of the crew about the marines,” he said, and you flinched. “Not about that. Just that we got away. Nami wants to leave tomorrow evening now, so we’ll be busy.”
You stared at him, suspicious right from the start. “And you care enough to tell me? Did someone put you up to this?”
Zoro stiffened. “I just thought you might want to know.”
Your eyes narrowed. He looked as normal as ever—face blank, leaving no expression to be seen. But his muscles were tenser than usual, and the veins running up his arm were prominent, like his hand was tightened into a fist where it hid away in his pocket. “You have ulterior motives.”
“You’re so annoying,” Zoro muttered, but he didn’t budge. You scoffed.
“What, are you here to admit that you were wrong and my plan really did get us away from the marines?” you asked, voice sugary sweet as you riled him up. His jaw clenched, a vein tracing up his neck bulging with the pressure. “You don’t need to inflate my ego—”
Zoro moved across the room swiftly, and you stumbled back in surprise as he pinned you to the wall, hand tight around your arm. Your words died in your throat as his lips sealed over yours with a bruising kiss. His fingers dug into the skin of your bicep—tight, but not tight enough to hurt.
“I don’t need to inflate your ego,” Zoro snapped, finishing your sentence from where it’d died on your lips. “You do that enough yourself.”
You stared at him, the tingle of his lips still left as an afterthought on your mouth. “If you’re going to make out with me, take your fucking swords off.”
Zoro barely suppressed an eye roll, hands working at his belt to slide his holsters off from his hip. “What’s your problem with them?”
“I think your emotional dependency on a bunch of oversized butter knifes—”
Zoro’s head jerked up, eyes dark when they met yours. “Don’t call them that.”
You couldn’t resist the quip off your tongue. “You asked.”
Zoro slowly made his way across the room again, steps careful and languid as he moved closer. “I take it back,” he said, voice a near whisper, every word crisp on his tongue. You shivered.
This time, you expected it when he kissed you. He wasn’t careful with it, and you didn’t want it any other way—your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, tugging him down closer to you. It got aggressive quick, his fingers coming down to clutch your waist, one of your hands tight around the locks of his hair as you pried open his mouth with your tongue.
Neither of you complied easily, both trying to get the better of the other. Zoro’s tongue forced itself into your mouth before you tugged on his lower lip with teeth. Both his hands came to wrap around your waist, now, hoisting you up and onto your hanging bed in the center of the room. His fingers dug in hard enough to leave bruises.
Zoro abandoned your mouth in favor of your neck, biting open-mouthed kisses into your jawline before moving down your jugular. Each one was more hasty than the last, wet and warm with licks of tongue and scrapes of teeth. You didn’t bother moving to give him better access—he had to do that himself, a large hand coming to rest on the back of your skull and pulling your head back to bare the rest of your neck to him. You heard him mutter something in Japanese—probably some obscenity, which pleased you more than you’d like to admit.
His kisses stopped at the hinge of your neck and shoulder, Zoro pausing to lean over and work his fingers up your spine. They danced over the clasp of your shirt, and you had to choke back a wry laugh, surprised. “I thought the Demon just took what he wanted,” you murmured.
Zoro didn’t seem to like that. He started unfastening the buttons going down the back of your top. “At least I was polite enough to ask,” he muttered.
“Just take my clothes off already,” you said, and he stopped his work, leaning back to glare into your eyes. You let out an annoyed sigh, and he rolled his eyes, going back to what he’d been doing. “Are we going to talk about it?” you asked, eyeing Zoro’s chest in front of you.
You pressed a kiss to his neck, sucking at the skin before grazing it ever-so-slightly with your teeth. His throat hitched under your mouth.
“Nope,” he grunted, finally unclasping the last button and pulling your top over your head. Since you didn’t have an issue with that arrangement, you didn’t say anything, even as Zoro practically shoved you flat on your back.
“Rude,” you muttered. Zoro didn’t bother apologizing; he just leaned down to take your breast in his mouth, tongue circling around your nipple. You weren’t fast enough to suppress your gasp this time—a point in Zoro’s favor then, one you allowed with a bitter taste on your tongue. Zoro’s mouth formed a smile against your skin. You brought your knee up between his legs, shoving into his crotch in retaliation.
“Stop,” Zoro hissed, the consonants of the words brushing across your skin when he spoke. You ignored him, and he let out a groan, hand clamping around your thigh to keep you from moving. “Do you have to be such a brat?”
“I am not a brat.” You hooked your ankle around his, causing him to slip from where he lay suspended above you, mouths mashing in another too-aggressive facsimile of a kiss. “You’re just a gigantic manwhore with an overinflated ego.”
“You did not just call me—” You shut him up with another kiss, teeth digging deep into the inner gums of his lip. You ran your hands up the sides of Zoro’s figure, trying your hardest to ignore the stiff muscles of his ribcage. He wasn’t that well-built. He wasn’t even that attractive, you tried to convince yourself. Still, you found the buttons of his shirt, trying to unfasten them quicker than Zoro had with yours.
One of them caught, and Zoro had the audacity to laugh. You grumbled something incoherent under your breath, tugging his shirt off all the way and tossing it somewhere behind you. “Shut up.”
“You’ve been the one complaining this entire time,” Zoro replied easily. He leaned down, tugging at your trousers to pull them off, pressing sloppy kisses down your torso now. You resisted the urge to say something in response, knowing it would just give him the satisfaction of being right. Were your points tied now? You couldn’t remember.
Zoro had pulled your pants down to your knees by now, and you kicked them off all the way, watching as he pushed them off the bed and leaned down to work at the inward slope of your hip. You shivered, legs trembling as you felt your core grow tight, the cloth of your underwear already wet with anticipation. Seeing the ever-steadying tent in Zoro’s pants made you feel just a little bit better, and you were nice enough to let a stuttering moan out as his tongue licked down to the band of your panties.
He pulled your underwear all the way off, then, but to your distaste completely ignored your fully exposed core to unbutton his own pants instead. “I hate you,” you muttered.
Zoro stopped in the middle of what he was doing, pants halfway down his thighs and length already out. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, voice careful—you could still hear the mocking tone beyond the coolness of his voice, though, and your jaw clenched in irritation. “Did you want something?”
“Yeah, for you to shut the fuck up.” You pushed yourself up by the elbows, grabbing one of Zoro’s arms and yanking him down onto the mattress. You used both hands to strip him of the last of his clothes—God, his legs were long—before returning to press your own open-mouthed bruises along his neck. His hips bucked up against yours, insistently chasing any friction, but you tightened a grip on his thigh to get him to stop. “Give me a second.”
“I don’t like that I’m suddenly under you,” Zoro said drily, and you could feel the words as they formed in his throat, still biting hickeys into his skin. You rolled your eyes, lips disconnecting from skin with a dull pop.
“Deal with it, Roronoa. I’m not moving.” With that, you finally reached down to coax his legs apart, hovering your core over his hips as you lined your entrance up with his length.
There was an audible hitch of breath on Zoro’s part as you sunk onto him. Point.
One of his hands tangled in your hair when you started moving, the other coming to press on the small of your back as you worked yourself up and down around him. For the complaining he’d done about the position, he didn’t seem so bothered about it, pulling you into a rough kiss.
You bit back with force, breath escaping you as your hips bucked against Zoro’s. The wet pool in your lower belly only grew stronger with every thrust, pressure building up inside of you as Zoro’s tongue ran across your teeth. You moaned freely now, too lost in the daze of your pleasure to remember to be annoying. Evidently Zoro felt the same way—he swallowed every one of your gasps up, grunting as you pulsed around him.
Your hips stuttered, thigh muscles contracting with the effort as you clenched down on Zoro. Still, you pushed through even as your muscles started to tire, encouraged by the deep, throaty sounds that escaped Zoro's lips between each kiss. He was big, filling you up damn near wholeheartedly, the crevices inside of you seeming to mould to his skin as you worked yourself on him.
Zoro started moving against you, and you gasped as his angle changed, somehow reaching farther in your body and causing tingles to erupt all along your skin. Your mind buzzed as he thrust into you with renewed vigor, core pulsing as you felt yourself come closer and closer to the edge.
You came all at once, teeth biting down in Zoro’s mouth before you parted from him. You let out a gasping moan, attempting to toss your head back as stars burst across your vision. Zoro’s hand in your hair dragged you back into a kiss, though; this one was slower, less teeth this time, like him coming had lessened the urge to bite.
Your movements slowed, coming to rest against Zoro’s skin, warm and—although you wouldn’t say so out loud—almost comfortable. His hand hadn’t budged from where it was pressed against your lower back, holding you tight to him.
There was a sticky wetness spreading fast by your thighs, and you grimaced, lifting yourself off of Zoro and rolling beside him on your back in one fluid motion. He stifled a groan at the movement, clearly irritated at the fact you hadn’t given any warning.
You lay there, breath heaving, rising out your high and making no move to touch the man laying by your side.
After you’d regained some of your dignity, you sat up, eyes narrowing at Zoro. “Get off my bed.”
Zoro gave you an exasperated look, but he didn’t argue; he just climbed off your bed, retrieving his clothes from where you’d tossed them about the room. He donned them slowly, like he had all the time in the world. Your eyes traced along his figure while he did, and you only felt sort of annoyed by it.
“I still hate you,” you snapped, after he’d finished changing. Zoro just scoffed, picking up his swords and slinging them across one shoulder. You could see a bruise purpling by his neck. At least you’d done damage.
“Fine by me,” he replied, straightening his shirt and giving you a look—not quite irritated, not quite sarcastic. “Dinner’s still waiting for you.”
You glared at his back as he opened the door to your bedroom. “Get lost, Roronoa,” you said, and that was that.
© halfvalid 2023
#opla zoro#opla roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro x you#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro smut#one piece live action#one piece netflix#opla#reader insert#x reader#opla fanfiction#opla fanfic#one piece live action x you#one piece live action x reader#smut#opla zoro x reader#kiki writes!
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! I was wondering if you could help me out with a word I've forgotten? I'm trying to remember the name for a concept that (I think) talks about how people better understand or process Things once they have vocabulary to describe it - I've heard it talked about in regards to the colour orange, or coercive control, etc.
long story short i've just read a paper saying ancient Greeks and Romans weren't racist bc they had no word for racism and am trying to form an argument against!
(no worries if this is unanswerable, i'm aware its a bit of a long shot but you struck me as a person who Knows Things)
That’s extremely kind and funny of you. i don’t know much but i am ok at synthesis.
I think you might be thinking of the concepts loosely called the “Sapir-Whorf hypothesis”, which describes something called “linguistic determinism.” This idea has been “disproven”, as it is just too reductionist as a concept - people are clearly perfectly capable of having experiences that are tough to describe with words. There will be plenty of papers showing how this reasoning is applied.
but it is still commonly thrown around and still considered a useful teaching framework. That’s why you’ll see it referenced online as if it is fresh, new, and applicable - people learn about it every year in college. Also, elements of the framework are probably perfectly sound. It definitely seems to be the case that language shapes brains; it just doesn’t seem to be the case that humans who don’t have specific words for them can’t experience orange, or the future.
(Many things in college are taught using teaching frameworks that may not be, technically, true; the framework is intended to give a critical structure for interpreting information. Then, when we later find evidence that disproves the hypothesis, that single piece of information doesn’t destroy our expensive college education; what we paid for is the framework. This is mostly frustrating in the sciences, when fresh crops of undergraduate students crash around on social media, grappling with their first exposure to (complex concept) and how it’s DIFFERENT to what they learned BEFORE and their teachers LIED TO EVERYBODY and they’re going to save the world from POP SCIENCE by telling the TRUTH. You’ll notice that these TOTALLY NEW INFORMATION reveals map along the semester schedule. The thing here is that getting new information, or information being different from what you were previously told, does not cancel out the fact that you are getting what you pay for - an education. Learning new facts that change our relationships to hypotheses isn’t a ✨huge betrayal ✨ , but the expected process of academia. Anyway.)
You have an interesting response here, and can start by looking at the ways that Sapir-Whorf has been disproved. There will be loads of literature on that.
However, it would be interesting to look at the argument as an unpicking of the other side’s rather weird, ritualistic superstitious belief that a behavior doesn’t exist if the creatures doing it can’t describe it. It is not on the ancient Greeks and Romans to categorise and interpret their behavior for a modern educated audience. They do not have the wherewithal to do so. They are also fucking dead. We can name the behaviors we see, and describe their impacts, however the hell we like.
Sure, the ancient Greeks used “cancer” to refer to lumpy veiny tumors. We can infer that they still had blood cancer, because their medical texts describe leukaemia and their corpses have evidence of it - they just didn’t know it was cancer. But we do, so we can call it cancer. Just because Homer said “the wine-dark sea” in a flight of girlish whimsy doesn’t mean he was unable to distinguish grape juice from saltwater, which we know, because we can observe that he was an intelligent wordsmith perfectly capable of talking about wine and oceans in other contexts. We are the people who get to stand at our point of history with our words, and name things like “this person probably died of leukaemia” and “poets say things that aren’t necessarily literal” and “this behaviour was racist” and “that’s gay” and “togas kinda slay tho” despite Ancient Greeks having different concepts of cancer, wittiness, prejudice, homosexuality, and slaying than we do today.
Now just to caveat that people do get muddled about the concept of racism. Our understanding of racism from here - this point of history, with these words, probably from the West - is heavily influenced by how we see racism around us today: white supremacy and the construct of “whiteness,” European colonial expansion, transatlantic chattel slavery, orientalism, evangelism, 20th century racial science, and so on. This is the picture of racism that really dominates our current discourse, so people often mistake it for the definition of racism. (Perhaps in a linguistic-deterministic sort of way after all.) As a result, muddled-up people often say things like “I can’t be racist because I’m not a white American who throws slurs at black American people,” while being an Indian person in the UK who votes for vile anti-immigration practices, or a Polish person with a horrible attitude about the Roma. Many people genuinely hold this very kindergarten idea of racism; if your opponent does as well, they’re probably thinking something like “Ancient Greek and Roman people didn’t have a concept of white supremacy, because whiteness hadn’t been invented yet, so how could they be racist?” And that’s unsound reasoning in a separate sense.
Racism as the practice of prejudice against an ethnicity, particularly one that is a minority, is a power differential that is perfectly observable in ancient cultures. The beliefs and behaviors will be preserved in written plays, recorded slurs, beauty standards, reactions to foreign marriages, and travel writing. The impacts will be documented in political records, trade agreements, the layouts of historical districts of ancient towns.
You don’t need permission to point out behaviours and impacts. You can point them out in any words you like. You can make up entirely new words to bully the ancient romans with. You are the one at this point of history and your words are the ones that get used.
Pretending that “words” are some kind of an intellect-obscuring magical cloud in the face of actual evidence is just a piece of sophistry (derogatory) on the part of your opponent here. It’s meant to be a distraction. You can dismiss this very flimsy shield pretty quickly and get them in the soft meat of them never reading anything about the actual material topic, while they’re still looking up dictionary definitions or whatever.
587 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could I request either “You’re always worrying.”“Yes, I am, because you're you.” or 'Their partner doing something and their clumsiness striking in a way that leads to good spirited laughter between the two.' with Steve please? Whichever you prefer 💚
I went with the first one, I hope that’s okay! 🧡
Steve Harrington x fem!reader
“You’re late.”
Your voice was a little mournful, your pout hiding your concern, your worry, but your eyes gave you away. Steve’s brows knitted together as his hand cupped your elbow, bringing you into him as you both began the walk to the pizza joint on the upper level.
His hand on your skin was soothing, a medicine you didn’t know you needed. It travelled up until his arm draped around your neck, the smell of Steve making your shoulders drop, tension forgotten, if only just.
Steve laughed a little, soft and not at all unkind, but you frowned anyway. “By like, three minutes, babe.” He didn’t say sorry - he didn’t really need to - but his voice was gentle enough that you heard the apology stitched between each word.
He tugged you into him, uncaring of the busy mall, the passersby, the onlookers. His lips found your temple, a kiss stamped there that was all adoration and love. “You’re always worrying, huh?”
You scoffed but leaned into him anyway, seeking out more of his mouth, lips lifting in the corners when his nose nuzzled at your hairline. “Well, yes, I am,” you mumbled, shy at being caught out, adored that he could read you so well. “Because you’re you.”
Steve snorted at that too, leading you through the evening crowds, the mall busier than usual as Hawkins residents made their way to the cinema, the new laser tag rooms that had opened up last week.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
You tried really hard not to roll your eyes but Steve must’ve seen, pinching at your side with his free hand and making you squeak, batting him away. He grinned, letting you escape his hold only to catch your hand and pull you back into him. Your fingers twined with his, nose wrinkling as you glared up at him, playful, for the most part.
“You have a baseball with nails embedded in it in your trunk,” you reminded him, “plus another under your bed.”
Steve grinned, nonplussed and he bumped his shoulder with yours as the pizza counter came into view. “Hey now, lower your voice, there could be lingering Russians.”
You really were glaring now, because you truly didn’t know if he was joking or not. To be truthful, Steve wasn’t sure either. But he was still smirking, enjoying your pouty mood, knowing that once he got you alone, he could kiss it right out of you.
“You’re not funny,” you told him, joining the queue and pretending to look at the overhead menus, bright signs and flashing pizza cartoons making your eyes ache. Steve knew you’d get your usual, a slice of chicken and sweetcorn, like always. “You probably are on some CIA watchlist, you know.” You prodded at his ribs, eyes narrowing when Steve laughed. “A whole team of agents listening in to you and the kids dragon game meetings. That’s why I worry.”
“Oh my god, you’re like, totally in love with me, huh?” Steve was still smiling but his grin had turned softer, jokes turning lovesick. He bent a little at the knees, nose nuzzling your cheek despite the people around you. He didn’t mind a little PDA. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, doting when you allowed one to your lips. “S’real cute, babe.”
You let him kiss you, once, twice, cheeks hot when the woman in front of you huffed but Steve just wrapped his arm around you again, bringing your back to his front as you both waited your turn in line.
“You’re so annoying,” you told him, head resting against his chest all the same. You didn’t sound annoyed at all, in fact, from over your shoulder, Steve could see your smile.
“Tell me about it,” Steve hummed, more than happy to be at the receiving end of your worrying, especially if you let him dote on you like this to make up for it.
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#Steve Harrington fanfiction#Steve Harrington oneshot#Steve Harrington blurb#Steve baby blurb
458 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
missesstargirl
superecheria
azubitage
AusBildung wird Karriere! TK-Azubitage 2018 #eslohntsich
airim-hisui
Hacker Hisui
cheapest-flights
Cheapest Flights: Cheap Flights ✈ Flight Booking ✈ Airfare T