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fadingdaggerr · 29 days

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Hi!! I was wondering if you could write a fluff Melissa x reader, where R is a new teacher and shes got this sick motorcycle and everybody thinks she's super cool and badass, and Mel's absolutely head over heels and gets all nervous when R is around, and when R eventually realizes it she starts doing things on purpose to get Mel all flustered.

With like A LOT of fluff.

You can maybe make it little spicy too, or not.

Idk you do whatever you prefer.

know i’m alive

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! 18+ minors, dni | 5.8k

includes: the dating but not really sort of trope, but of ooc!melissa i’m sorry, partially unedited again im sorry

warnings: sexual innuendo, alcohol consumption (brief), making out/kissing, smut (fingering, oral, mel receiving), body worship?, aftercare

note: the bike referenced is a harley-davidson 1992 daytona, one of my personal fav models. i grew up in a biker family so this was cathartic. also the temperatures referenced in fahrenheit are roughly the 10-20°c range, hope that’s helpful :)

It’s become a sort of routine: get to work, drop your things off, get coffee, make Melissa blush, teach, do prep, watch Melissa try to hide a smile, go home, repeat. You can’t help yourself, getting the woman, who will always be the toughest in any room she’s in, riled up with fluttering lashes. Shocked faces from across the room didn’t help with the ego you were steadily growing with each interaction.

The first day you were at Abbott, she pointedly ignored you, despite constantly having an eye on you. What you once thought was suspicion over a new person near the kids, though sort of true, was more of a curiosity. A new third grade teacher walked into her school, wearing an oversized denim jacket and old Chucks, how was she supposed to feel? Her harsh glares and eagle eyes softened, and you started to see a more bashful side of the woman. It was only until Ava had the balls to say that Melissa’s behavior was very not Melissa, that you noticed that only you could evoke this side of her.

Since day one, the redhead has had an interest in you, not that she would ever verbalize it. Breathlessness has become a common feeling every time you come in with the sleeves of your sweater rolled up and rings adorning your fingers, making her focus shift and half the time she doesn’t hear a word you say, just following the gold bands that catch the light as you speak animatedly. Melissa longs for the day you got close enough and she could pull you in by the necklace you wear, the same that dangles in a taunt when you lean into her space. In the brief moments you’re alone, there’s a sense of calm that comes over both of you. The need to keep up a bravado drops, and you can indulge yourself in her presence. She’s lost count of how many times you casually dropped a gorgeous or beautiful instead of using her name, and how she has to fight turning when you say either in casual conversation, not just to her. All you know is that her wide, surprised eyes are all the motivation you need to keep it up.

—☽—

It’s bitter cold as you walk into Abbott, finding yourself nearly running to the main entrance before your eyes begin to water from the nipping winds. Reprieve comes in the form of the front lobby, leaning against it to catch your breath and shrug off your jacket to let the warmer air rid you of goosebumps. With your belongings dropped off in your classroom, it’s easy to start moving towards the lounge, knowing you saw a silver car that belonged to a certain redhead.

The voice of Jim Gardener is all there is when you enter, Barbara having, no doubt, told them to shut their mouths while her ‘second favorite man’ was speaking, Gerald also ranking number one in his wife’s heart. Grabbing your personal mug from the shelf, you pour a cup of unfortunate coffee as you watch Melissa through your periphery. She used to sit in one of the chairs, no room for someone to place themselves next to her. However, once you started, you noticed she moved to the couch, where no one but you was brave enough to sit.

Walking slowly to your spot, you gently sip the coffee that threatens to spill over the sides before setting it on the table. Lowering yourself, you sit purposefully closer to Melissa than a typical coworker would. Not one shuffle away or look of discomfort comes of it, it almost makes you grin. As the weather comes on, and Jim is no longer on screen, voices start to fill the room. You throw your arm back to the back of the couch as leverage to push yourself forward, leaning into Melissa’s space as the two-week broadcast appears on screen.

Her attention on you is not missed, neither is Barbara’s, who you already know is giving Melissa a look of bewilderment. The dusty pink that paints her cheeks with every interaction between you has quickly become your favorite color. It’s a struggle and a half to keep your eyes on the screen, but the temperatures being in the fifties and sixties starting tomorrow made you so excited that it didn’t even matter. Instantly, your mind is whirling with plans for the second the final bell rings and you can run out the door.

When the news goes to commercial, you sit back, keeping your arm behind Melissa’s shoulders. The warmth radiating off of her has your mind begging for you to shift your arm just a touch closer, to wrap your arm around her, but so far playing it safe has been working in gaining her trust. She can’t help it, green eyes falling onto you as she tries to decipher your move, hoping to catch something in your eyes that tells her what this was between you. All she gets is a little smirk that is half-hidden by a sip of coffee from an orange mug.

Melissa catches on quickly to your happier mood, finding the joy you exuded, that seemingly came from nowhere, to be adorable. She can’t even believe that word dared to enter her vocabulary. Your typical flirty remarks don’t make an appearance, just a serene smile on your face and a wink to Melissa when you catch her eyes scanning over your face.

As the last kids get into their dad’s truck, you find yourself practically skipping back to your room to quickly gather your things. With the speed in which you move and the utter state of focus you are in, you don’t notice Melissa’s little smile as she sees you move with obvious excitement as you leave the building. She decidedly ignores the little thought that you may be all giddy to see someone else, and maybe she will continue to ignore it with a glass of Merlot.

Marty at the front desk of M&J’s Storage Company gives you a tightlipped smile and a curt nod as you drive past, having gotten used to you stopping by periodically over the winter. Pulling up in front of unit seventy makes your heart race, the second most beautiful thing in the world sat behind that navy metal door. The old lock takes a few tugs to loosen its hold, finally allowing you to release the latch and lift the door.

“Well, hello again,” you mumble as you pull back the cover, eyes scanning over metal. It hadn’t been long since your last little maintenance visit, meaning all you had to do was drive home and get her shined up.

After stopping at the gas station on the way home to fill the tank, you finally park and nearly eat pavement as you jump out of the car. It takes extra effort without the help you usually get from your brother to lower the bike off the trailer, but you manage, though it leaves your arms shaking while you remove the cover again.

Polish turns the piping from grey to silver, the dust off the body goes back to its original tan, and the blue on the design is restored to its proper glory. Despite checking once a month or so, you cross your fingers as you start the engine, hoping that all your hardwork will pay off and nothing will go wrong. The engine does a chg-chg-chg before it turns over and the motorcycle comes to life.

“Yes!” you exclaim, jumping in the air slightly with sheer amount of excitement running through your veins. You let the bike run for a little bit as you take photos to send to your brothers as proof you could, in fact, get it off the trailer without them.

All you can think about for the next couple hours before bed is the feeling of your riding jacket and the wind blowing against it.

—☽—

The sky is still dark when you open your eyes the next morning, impatience waking before you before your alarm. Once you’ve gained your bearings, you get up and are getting ready as fast as you possibly can. It’s impossible to sit still, you’re almost dancing in place as you brush your teeth and can’t stop yourself from skipping to the closet by the front door. Shoved in the back, next to your sandals, was a pair of black, leather, steel toe boots. After saving every penny your senior year of college, you bought them as a graduation gift for yourself, and you’ll wear them until you can feel the ground through the soles.

Once you had to turn around due to forgetting it from sheer enthusiasm, you borderline ran down the stairs to your garage space. With the garage door open, the warm air creeping in from the outside is invigorating, and the lack of wind for the first time in two weeks gives you hope that your face won’t freeze off on the ride to Abbott. The biggest pain is getting your backpack to sit comfortably over your slightly bulky riding jacket, covered in patches from states and towns you’d visited over the years.

The second the bike begins to move, it feels like all of your problems have disappeared behind you. The low rumbling and revving drives others crazy, but it feels like the calming presence around you. If only the cops around weren’t such sticklers, or you’d have left your helmet off for the fifteen minutes drive. The wind on your face is better than caffeine, but your eyes water so badly, you can’t have anyone thinking you were sobbing on your way to work. That’s a Monday activity, not Thursday.

From the speed in which you got ready to get on your bike, you’re the second person in, Janine always being first. You refrain from sitting by the TV once you’re in the lounge, just leaning against the counter and sipping your coffee until the object of your affection arrives. Gregory and Jacob come in together, talking about the next round of plants for the garden. When Barbara comes in, you can see that she’s holding in laughter, a fast-talking Melissa behind her.

“How are you not freaking out, Barb? That bike is beautiful, and it’s at Abbott, Abbott, of all places,” she almost yells, her hands waving around with disbelief in her friend’s relative disinterest.

“It’s a bicycle, Melissa.”

“Motorcycle, it’s a motorcycle. It doesn’t have a basket and ribbons, unlike yours,” Melissa mumbles that last part, but Barbara stills catches it and gives a gentle smack to her friend’s arm, despite laughing herself. You can’t lie, knowing that Melissa is fascinated by the bike, you want to speak up about it now, but instead, you stay quiet.

The spot next to her by the TV stays vacant, practically having an RSVP with your name on it. When you plop next to her, she peeks at you from the corner of her eye, and she does it a few times again during the commute report. You catch her the fifth time, raising your brows in question to not gain the others’ attention, but she just gives you a shake of the head. She turns back to the TV, but you’re persistent, propping your arm behind you like you’d done yesterday, and poking her shoulder.

Her head whips away from you, and seeing that it was your hand over her shoulder, she turns back to you with a playful scowl.

“What?” she asks with a softer tone than you had expected.

You lean in just a touch to keep your words between the two of you, “you were staring. Was just making sure you’re okay.”

God, you could survive solely off the way her eyes shine, how wide they open at your earnest. Neither of you realize the time between your words and the answer that has yet to come, just looking at each other as a tiny smile plays on your lips. It takes the internal will of ten thousand men to not jump at her emerald eyes dropping briefly to your lips.

“Right… Sure you’re not just flirting? Like a little kid annoying their crush?” she jokes, partially to save her from embarrassment, partially to hide the racing of her heart from your attention.

“Could be. But at least I’m not the one avoiding the question,” you joke back, and when she doesn’t answer again, you push, “nothing to say about that, beautiful?” Her eyes go to her lap as she shakes her head, another poor attempt to hide the clear effect you have on her. For now, you’ll just ignore the feeling of her leaning slightly closer to you and try to still your rapid heartbeat.

—☽—

In a desperate attempt to see who owns this magnificent bike, Melissa stays in the parking lot, loitering by fiddling with her purse to not raise suspicion. She immediately ignores Gregory and Mr. Morton, knowing they’re too stiff to ever consider getting on a motorcycle, let alone this one. As she sits there on her phone, after fifteen minutes of waiting, a familiar hum starts up and the bike is moving out of the lot.

That jacket. Patches cover nearly all visible space, even a little Eagles one next to a custom Abbott patch. Even with the helmet obscuring your face, without the jacket, she’d know you anywhere. Immediately, she starts to move, putting her car in drive as she pulls out of the lot the same way you did, conveniently the same direction she needed to go.

With a stroke of luck, she pulls into a lane next to you at a busy red light, rolling down her passenger side window, “aye! Why did you say shit about you having the bike?”

You push up your visor, yelling over the motor and traffic, “air of mystery!”

“Bullshit!”

“Guessing you want a ride, huh, gorgeous?” You can’t even contain your grin as you watch her eyes widen, flicking to the red light that has still yet to turn. Little do you know her mind is screaming and your cocky little smile isn’t helping one bit.

She swallows the lump in her throat, “follow me to my place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say as you flip your visor back down, glad to be able to cover your face as you smile so hard you narrowly avoid missing the light turning green. It doesn’t take long to fall into line behind Melissa, cutting into a tiny space that earns you a deserved honk from the old man behind you.

It’s less than twenty minutes before Melissa’s blinker directs you into her driveway. You walk it slowly next to her car, keeping the engine running as you take off your helmet. Melissa gets out of her car, abandoning her purse in the seat next to her, and stands nervously by the hood as she plays with her sleeves. Suddenly the thought of being one the motorcycle, pressed against your back, sounds so good she’s afraid she’ll ruin it somehow.

Your voice cuts off her brain’s nervous rambling, “I’ve only got the one helmet with me. So, you’ll wear that, and we’ll stick to the side streets.”

“No highway,” she grumbles as she steps closer.

Your nose scrunches as you laugh at her pout, “no highway and nothing over forty, cross my heart.” Holding out your pinky, she begrudgingly takes it while ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. “You’re gonna wanna tie your hair back, low bun, braid, something like that.”

“Ponytail?” she asks, pretending she doesn’t care that your pinkies are still wrapped around one another.

“Nope, it’ll just tangle. And we can’t have anything happening to that beautiful hair,” you subconsciously pull her hand closer and draw her in. Her finger tightens around yours in return. When her neighbor pulls into their driveway, their car door shutting loudly disrupts the quiet between you two, making you both pull away.

Instead of speaking of it, you both fiddle to get ready for a ride around the block or down to the corner store. Melissa faces away from you to tie her hair into a tight low bun, she takes deep breaths to calm herself from the sheer proximity to you. Behind her, you fiddle with the clasps of the helmet to fit her better.

When she turns to face you again, you motion for her to get closer and her eyes almost bulge out her head. Melissa slowly approaches you as her fingers tangle around themselves. You lift the helmet in silent question, and she nods. Carefully, trying to touch her as little as possible, you help get the helmet on without pulling her hair.

You open the visor before you adjust the chin strap, “feel good? Secure?”

“It’s comfier than I thought,” her voice comes out slightly muffled by the guard in front of her lips. Melissa prays you can’t hear her fast breaths, completely overwhelmed by your scent surrounding her.

“Good,” you smile, “I’ll back her up onto the street, then you can hop on.”

Once you’ve got the kickstand down so it’s as stable as possible for her to get on, you offer a hand as support. Melissa slowly places her hand in yours, the squeeze she receives tells her trust me, I won’t let you get hurt. Using the footrest, she gets herself over the seat to straddle it behind you. Manicured hands flex open and close behind your back as she becomes unsure of where to put them.

“There’s handles, slightly behind you, that you can hold onto,” speaking loudly over the motor. You turn over your shoulder to meet your eyes with hers, “or, if you wanna, you can hold onto me. Whatever’s your preference.”

To save face, she rolls her eyes, “just want my hands on you, don’t you now?”

“Can’t call you a liar for that one,” you say with a smug grin, turning back to lean the bike upright and put up the kickstand. The second you start to move, Melissa’s arms go tightly around your waist, white knuckling your jacket.

Feeling her holding you was only so pleasant until you realized it was mostly from fear. Before taking off slowly, you pat her hand where it rests on your abdomen. It only grips tighter in return. Taking your foot off the ground and beginning to move, feeling more careful in every move you make as to not make Melissa more nervous than she was. It was surprising really, that Melissa Schemmenti of all people was nervous on a motorcycle.

Her grip starts to loosen after the third or fourth turn, but her arms don’t move. Melissa almost rests her head against your back, but decides against it in a sudden judgment. When the moment comes where she feels comfortable, she releases one arm from her hold on you to push the visor back up to have an unobstructed view of the Philly streets and your reflection in the mirrors.

When you finally slow down, it’s six blocks over at her favorite corner store, they’ve got the best hoagie options. She uses your shoulders and the hand you placed out for her to get down from the bike, legs numb from the vibrations of the bike and motor against her thighs. You’re quick to get off, helping her get the helmet off and fixing the little strands of hair that stick up from static. Neither of you mention Melissa’s rosy cheeks or your lingering caress along her bangs.

The small shop leaves little room to roam about, and you stay closely pressed to Melissa’s back as you maneuver to the counter to order food to bring back to her house. With the warmth radiating off of you, she now understands how you felt the whole ride. She knows how you feel about her, it’s a mirror of the ache in her chest for you, and feeling you against her has her heart pounding in time with yours.

From around her waist, comes your arm, offering the cashier a twenty dollar bill. Your other hand rests against Melissa’s hip, holding your wallet open for the change. This has to be some sort of revenge for holding you, she thinks to herself.

As you slowly pull into her driveway, there’s an air of unsureness around the two of you. Stepping off the bike again, you fiddle with your fingers, not wanting to invite yourself into her home. Melissa tugs at the ends of her sleeves as she plans her next words.

“Do you wanna come in, have a beer with those hoagies?” Melissa offers with a hopeful tone.

You smile as you grab the helmet from you, clipping over the little strap on the seat. She takes the hint and walks towards the door with you closely behind her. Inside, without the jacket and boots on, Melissa thinks you look soft. Everything about you is so careful with her, even when you wear worn leather with chains, this dressed down version matches the treatment she always receives.

Sitting across from her at the island, you answer all her questions about how you got the bike, how you maintain it, how you learned all the tricks to keep it running.

“Seriously, that thing’s how old and still going that strong?” she asks through a mouthful of capicola.

“It’s thirty now, it’s a 1992. Harleys are just built to last longer than the actual biker at this point, especially the older models,” you take a swig of beer, “the Daytona was too good to pass up. I got it so cheap and the guy barely had miles on it.”

Melissa perks up, “how much?”

“Thirty-five hundred. Stupid cheap, he could’ve easily gotten ten.”

She smirks, “and you just let him trick himself out of the money?”

“Duh,” you say. There’s a beat of silence before you both start to laugh, leaning into one another over the table.

—☽—

The sun set some time between finishing the hoagies and the third episode of The Real Housewives she roped you into watching. She claimed it was only fair considering she willingly got on the motorcycle. What had started with you two on different cushions quickly became you being pressed against each other, your arm taking residence behind her, but never touching her as you always kept it.

In a strange moment of bravado, Melissa leans against the back cushion and your arm dips into the slope, falling gently around your shoulders. You purse your lips in an attempt to keep a straight face, adjusting your arm to have your hand rest on her shoulder. It doesn’t take long before your fingers begin to draw nonsensical patterns over her shirt. Time passes, episodes go on, and Melissa’s weight starts to fall more into you. Every passing second you become more aware that you don’t want to leave this position as long as you live.

The screen turns black, Are you still watching? appears across it, behind the words, a reflection of the two of you. Your gaze dips down, immediately meeting Melissa’s looking up at you. Green eyes flick to your lips, and for the first time, you know for a fact that you are not imagining it. Her tongue pokes out to wet her lips, capturing your attention. Eyes meet and it’s so quick, neither of you can tell who starts it.

Melissa’s lips taste like light beer and strawberry chapstick, and her tongue is dominating and soft. Her hands grip tightly at the base of your neck, keeping you close to her like you would disappear if your lips left hers. Your hands take residence on her waist, like they had hours ago, and the warmth of her skin under her shirt is screaming your name, begging to be touched.

Tongues clash against one another, sticky lips clumsy as air becomes a necessity. Barely taking your lips off her skin, you trail downwards to her jaw, placing wet kisses along it. The hands on her waist push up and make their way beneath her shirt, gently squeezing her warm, supple body. The feeling of your soft hands holding her makes Melissa groan, tugging you back to her wanting lips.

All she’s wanted since the moment she met you, to hold you, kiss you, touch you, it’s all happening and she can barely find it in her to stop. She never wants it to. With your teeth tugging at her bottom lip, a borderline moan escapes her, and she feels you smile against her mouth and it’s all she can think about. Melissa is completely putty in your hands.

Without breaking the distance between you, you pull away from her lips slowly. Heaving breaths escape both of you, lips swollen and pupils dilated from lust. Melissa’s hand traces from the back of your neck to the chain of your necklace dangling in front of her, looping it around her finger to pull you in closer. Your lips graze over hers, but her words fill the space before they can touch.

“What if I asked you to take me upstairs?”

Your thumb brushes over her ribs, “then I would.”

The door handle almost puts a hole in the wall with the way Melissa shoves it open behind her as you walk her backwards towards her room. Her hands drop from your face to the hem of her shirt, beginning to pull it up before your hands take over. As you step away to throw her shirt off to the side, your eyes drop and a soft look comes over your features.

Stepping into her space again, your fingers trace over her skin, “you’re so beautiful.” It’s barely above a whisper, she barely hears it, barely even sure you’re aware you’ve said it.

Melissa’s only response is to kiss you again, pulling you towards her bed until she topples onto it, taking you with her. Your thighs straddle her as you tug off your own shirt, bending down to continue ravishing her. You kiss down from her lips, to her jaw, to the dip at the base of her neck, then trace your tongue back up. Cold hands grab yours, pulling them down to the button of her jeans.

“Are you sure?” you ask from above her, free hand pushing baby hairs from her blushing face. She only nods, not trusting her words. You shake your head lightly, a little smile on your lips, “I’m gonna need a real answer, lovely.”

Lovely, that’s a new one. She feels her face warm under your gaze, arousal pooling. With the strength she can muster, she utters, “please.”

Without a moment to spare, your lips are on hers again, hand at her waist moving to unbutton her pants. As you help push them down, your hand passes her panties, the dark patch of wetness calling to you. It only invigorates you as you let go of her lips, kissing down to her chest. Arching forward, she makes space for your wandering hands to slip behind and unclasp her bra.

A breathless mumble of God leaves your lips, before soft kisses are pressed to her sternum, skim over to her breast. You kiss her skin with a reverence she’s never felt, teeth graze over her hardened nipple before your lips wrap around it, tongue swirling. The unattended breast begs for attention that is quickly given by your hand, rolling the bud between your fingers.

The warm hand at her waist grips down to her thigh, pushing her legs open to make space for you to lie. Your mouth and hand switch, equal, worship-like attention given to each breast. Melissa’s quiet, hidden moans become louder, hips shifting for pressure against yours. Taking the hint, your lips travel lower, licking over her abdomen and gently biting when she tugs at your hair.

One hand wraps around her thigh, the other keeps her in place as a weight against her stomach. Pressing wet kisses to her thigh, you look at her for permission to continue. The image of you between her legs, lips on her wet thighs, eyes shining with want, all she can manage is bucking her hips towards you, a whine escaping her lips.

One last kiss is placed against plush skin, Melissa’s hand tangles with yours, interlocking fingers feeling like they belong there. Your warm, wet tongue glides over her slit, up and down in slow figure-eights, her little gasps only egging you on. Flattening your tongue, you press harder against her, tasting her more fully, groaning against her in satifaction. It makes sense why Eve would so easily give everything for a mere taste of the forbidden fruit. Sweet and warm, divine heaven on your lips.

Melissa hips buck into your face, begging for more and you are more than willing to give. You lick up to her clit, the pearl demanding attention from you. Small, circular motions with your tongue make Melissa groan, slapping a hand over her mouth as she gets closer and closer to her peak.

You lift away from clit, much to her dismay, “don’t do that.” The hand on her stomach moves to pull her hand away from her mouth, “I want to hear you… please.”

Her hand drops to the sheets beside her, and your mouth is back on her. Sucking harder against her, your hand slides down her abdomen and positions in front of her blooming lips. Your middle finger presses into her slick walls, forcing a moan from both of you. With a few gentle pushes and pulls, you slowly ease in your ring finger, making her clench tightly.

Red nails dig into your hair, tugging as Melissa writhes above you. Husky moans and whines fill the room, pleas of faster and yes, yes are burned into your mind, a melody you won’t dare forget.

You pull off of her clit to take a breath and speak, “can you take more, baby?”

“Please,” she says through pants. The hand in your hair tug you up to her lips, “please.” Her desperate grasp is not willing to let you go, claw-like nails digging into your back.

Lips dancing as you shift your hand to put your thumb to her clit, lining your forefinger to her pussy. Melissa’s jaw drops as the third finger stretches her more, the moan that rips through her is felt by your lips on her neck. You keep a steady rhythm of circling her clit and pumping your fingers into her. Her moans turn to pitched whines, walls hugging your fingers, she was so close. You kiss down her neck, sucking little marks that will fade by morning, taking your time on her breasts and lower stomach. Reaching her clit again, suck it into your mouth as you speed your fingers’ pace.

Frantic hips begin to still, a whine leaving her plump lips as she cums around your fingers. Your attention leaves her clit to travel down her lips as you slowly pump your fingers, removing one by one as she comes down. Shaking thighs relax against the bed as you clean her with your tongue, nectar of the goddess being all the reward you need. She pulls lightly at your hand on her thigh, begging for your lips on hers.

Pressing a final kiss to her pearl, then thigh, you capture her lips in a slow kiss, soft and full of the love that had been hiding under every interaction since you’d first met. When you pull away, you bring your fingers to her lips to give her a proper taste of herself. Accepting the offer, her tongue swirls around the digits. You internally scold yourself for being jealous of your own hand, even the string of saliva that connects her heavenly mouth to your fingers.

You shift to cup her cheek, admiring her droopy eyes and blushing cheeks, the sheen of sweat over her forehead. Her own hand mirrors your movement, pulling you down to press a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“You are so- too good at that,” she mumbles against your cheek, feeling the vibration of your laugh.

You press a kiss to her cheek before flopping next to her, “you, you taste too good.”

Her hand comes to cover her face, but you’re quick to catch it, bringing it closer to kiss the back. Melissa chuckles as you nibble on the knuckle of her pinkie, but she frowns as you roll off the bed. Emerald eyes follow you to the ensuite bathroom, and back as you go back between her legs with a warm washcloth. The featherlike touch and soft kisses to her skin only further the blush on her cheeks.

After discarding the rag and tugging off your jeans, you lay down next to her on your side, eyes scanning over her face. Her head turns to you, enjoying the quiet between you, even more so when your pointer finger traces her features and takes special attention to her lips. Lipstick smudged around her chin, surely on your face as well, and messy eyeliner, she’s never been quite so beautiful.

The gentle ministrations and loving attention make Melissa’s eyes grow heavy, sleep grasping at her despite the fight to stay in your presence. Feeling her relaxing into you, you shift to lay on your back, arm out inviting her into your embrace. Lazily rolling into you, her face tucks into your neck, hand searching for yours.

You tangle your fingers together and whisper into the air, “I think it goes without saying, but I’m stupid in love with you. Everything about you. Just thought you should know.”

“Good thing,” she says through a yawn as she shifts more into you, “because I’m stupid in love with you, too.”

You press a kiss into her hair, “go to sleep, pretty girl. I’ll be here in the morning, if you want.”

“Of course I want,” it’s barely audible, but you can tell she means it.

The scent of sex, sweat, and eucalyptus body wash radiates from her, underneath it all is a smell that’s so uniquely Melissa that you can feel yourself sinking into the mattress. It feels easy, being with her, it makes sense. You find yourself staring at the ceiling, you recount every time you should have spoken up about your feelings. Surely there could have been a time, but none seem to come to mind. It only makes sense that this is how it was supposed to happen. In her bed, on this day, with the taste of lager on her tongue, you were meant to find your way together.

title from beauty school by deftones

one day i’ll write a shorter fic like i planned in my head

feedback appreciated as always <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lgbtq #lesbian

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boizandgurlzinthehouse · 5 months

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.

pairing: coriolanus snow x toxic!fem!reader

summary: someone always throw a spanner in her works, to achieve her biggest dream —being coriolanus’ lover, wife and claiming power. luckily, y/n is not on the loser side when it comes to playing.

trigger warnings (overall): mastermind!reader, toxic!reader (for real, she’s doing nasty things), reader’s family is a bit fucked up, reader is obsessed with coriolanus snow, lying, swearing, blood, violence, killing people, hunger games stuff, i just love volumnia gaul, reader hates lucy gray and everybody who’s around coriolanus, mental health problems mentioned such as psychotism, domestic violence mentioned, drugs, mention of sexual fantasies.

trigger warnings (in this part): mastermind!reader, toxic!reader (for real, she’s doing nasty things), reader’s family is a bit fucked up, reader is obsessed with coriolanus snow, lying, swearing, domestic violence mentioned, drugs, mention of sexual fantasies, mentions of gaining weight and wearing a corset (patrick bateman vibes), i really hope it doesn't seem like bodyshaming, reader has problems only with her own body.

prologue.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒.

another day. another chance to win him over.

y/n could be named for many things: a filthy liar, a nepo-baby, a psychopath or simply a crazy girl, but she was never, ever lazy. waking up, she always had the same routine: getting out from the bed, changing into her underwear she wore the day before, making her hair up into a bun, spreading carbon on her teeth to be white as marble. working out, even if it hurt, because how could she be the best wife ever for coriolanus if she was lazy and out of shape? through workout, she thought about who she is. i am y/n y/l/n, youngest member of the house y/l/n. we are noble, i am noble, and i deserve everything what i have now. i am beautiful, clever and nobody can ever drag me down. the people who hate me are only envious of my life, my body and my mind, but they’re all going to soil. i love the life i have, and i will appreciate every single second of the life i will have when i achieve my goals. i have every tool i can use to win, and i will use them to be the woman i want to be. it’s not far away, and everyday is a chance to be closer to the woman i want to be.

after that, taking a bath, scrubbing her body with a sponge, so her skin would always be silky, using her razor to get rid of the unwanted, ugly hair on her body. smearing vanilla and rose oil onto her skin: vanilla for being gentle, and rose for coriolanus. brushing her teeth, washing down the charcoal, washing teeth with the regular toothpaste. sitting in front of her dressing table, picking her eyebrow, putting cosmetic oils and serums on her cleavage, her neck and her face. while letting it dry, picking out the outfit of the day, calling in her maid, hortense to help her with the corset if she felt that she gained too much weight because of the medicine, or was on her period. y/n hated so-called red days, and waited for the day when she could bear her husband’s children. putting her clothes on, sitting at the dressing table again, her maid helped her if she wanted a special hairstyle. checking her manicure, it was now soft pink, it’ll match with her clothes. making her hair, she did her makeup, curling her eyelashes, putting a little chili on her lips to be so full –it hurt like hell, but how could she be perfect if she didn’t put effort in it?, whilst repeating another list in her mind. this was for coriolanus.

be kind with him, but never too kind. be kind and modest with everybody else, so they won’t notice it. agree with him in the things that are important, but also speak your mind if he seems doubtful. speak your feelings to convince him, you are important to him. always accept his help, but don’t make redundant situations, don’t look like the damsel in distress. make him feel special, let him be the man he is, make him feel that you support him and his plans, but never make too big promises. don’t look pathetic, don’t show your emotions too much. never talk about him to others, only if they mention him, talk good about him, and talk bad about others if it’s needed. don’t make a scene if something doesn’t work your way, it will sooner or later. take action when it’s the right time.

applying lipstick as the last step, she was ready to step out from home. y/n knew she had a strict routine, but doing mornings on autopilot let her think about more important things, like her daily plans. first destination was the school where coriolanus was, but first, she needed to get her papers after graduating, after that they’re gonna have lunch together, and then, she’ll look for the letters to see if volumnia gaul accepted her application. probably she will, she knows her entire family, how great they are, and she probably heard about y/n herself too.

“good morning ms. y/l/n, how are you?” lacy, her sister’s maid asked her as she carried the laundry in a big basket through the hallway on the ground floor.

“i slept well, lacy, thank you. where is my sister?”

“your sister, morphia went to arrange the flowers and the cake for her marriage. i am so happy for her, ms. y/l/n!”

y/n couldn’t decide if lacy was truly happy or just acting. but she wasn’t a threat, so y/n didn’t care.

“me too, lacy.”

her father was sitting at the head of the table, reading the tabloids, her mother, lorelei was eating some eggs with meat, some gin in her glass on the side.

“this pheasant is really good, cyril.” she mentioned, looking up to see her youngest child. “oh, my sweet, y/n! good morning.”

“good morning, mommy.” she said, giving her a kiss on the cheek, going to her father, she waited until he stopped reading the tabloid and looked at her. her father, cyril y/l/n was really strict, but not as strict as crassus snow. once, after her father made her burn the flowers she tore off from their garden and beat her, her mother stroked her cheek, saying “oh, honey, don’t be sad. your father is a good man, not like crassus snow. i think you should be glad that you don’t have him as your father.” so this way, y/n was happy. or so her mother thought.

“good morning, father.” she told him too, giving him a kiss on the cheek too. she could do that until she was eighteen, after that, only the greeting was acceptable. y/n saw once, when morphia tried to kiss her father when she passed eighteen, she got slapped across the face. but they were happy, weren’t they?

“how’s your application with gaul?” he asked as y/n sat down.

“i handed it in yesterday. probably a letter will wait for me in the afternoon.”

“why, what will you do today?”

“cyril, i already told you that! your butler even wrote it down for you!” her mother whined, looking at her daughter. y/n took a slice of bread, reaching for the butter and the knife.

“don’t mind it, mother. i’m going to the school to get my graduating papers, then have lunch with coriolanus, and then–”

“coriolanus snow? that boy and his family are broke, his father was gullible and got killed by the rebellion. why are you humbling yourself in his presence?”

control. control your face, your hands. y/n’s fist curled around the knife tighter, grabbing it with real force.

“i know, but he has great talent. and he’s gonna be the next president of panem.” she replied calmly, looking at him. sometimes she fantasized about stabbing him there, at the head of the table.

“president of panem? y/n, you are so amusing when you say things like this. but i truly hope your words will become reality someday. crassus wasn’t gullible, everybody was afraid through the first rebellion.” his face softened, just as he spoke to a three year old.

“yes, honey! your father doesn’t doubt you, he’s just amazed at what you are saying.” her mother added, sipping on her gin, batting her lashes. it wasn’t even ten in the morning, as she was already wasted. after eating the slice of bread, y/n stood up, hiding the knife into her sleeve.

“i’m going out, but i’m gonna be here for the letter. please don’t open up before me.” she asked, making her father look up.

“hortense is going to bring it to your room.”

“thank you, father.”

“honey, you didn’t even touch the caviar and the honey, please eat some more!”

kissing her mother’s cheek again, y/n looked at her. she got her eyes, her mother was truly beautiful when she was young, acrimonious lips talked cyril only married lorelei because of her looks. nevertheless, the creed family was also noble, y/n only had to bear festus’ horrible personality twice a year, christmas and the reaping.

“don’t worry mommy, i’ll be fine.”

she could work easily with an empty stomach, getting back to her room, preparing her bag. looking at the medicines, she put the bottle under her clothes. she didn’t need these pills that made her useless, slow and lazy anyway, she needed something else… and she knew her horrible cousin, festus got that white, powdery thing. grabbing the butterknife from under her sleeve, she touched it. it was the worst knife ever, blunt and short, like some of the fighters in the games. y/n loved her father, respected him and counted on his words, but questioning her and laughing at her, it was the exception if it came to love and respect. and if her father is doubting her again, she will–

funk! well, who thought that people could stick butter knives into the wall?

arriving at the school, showing her papers that she was a private student, the secretary gave out her graduation stuff. nodding, the secretary told some things, but her mind was focused on finding festus. going to the main hall, everybody whore red, y/n was the only outstander with her black skirt, soft pink blouse and black blazer. every school uniform was truly awful, the capitol is the wealthiest in all panem, couldn’t they make it a little bit more… pleasant? it’s a shame that every fabric is on their hand, available, and still, they style it horrible. nevermind, festus was there, chatting with that bitch arachne and that fucker pliny harrington.

“hey, festus, hey, everybody. can we talk for a minute?” she turned to her cousin. festus looked at her, smirked, then looked at the others.

“of course. sorry, it’s only a minute.” he said to them, walking to one of the corners with y/n. leaning to one of the marble piles, he dug his hands into his pockets. “so, what do you want?”

“why are you asking me so pitiless?” y/n blinked at him. for some people, formality in family could seem heartless, but she was relieved that she didn't need to waste her time if she didn't want to.

“you talk to me only if you need something.”

“me? don’t be ridiculous, i helped with all your assignments in school, what would your mother say if she heard that?” y/n couldn’t be a big gamer if she didn’t knew the connections in her environment perfectly well. seeing how festus’ face became a little bit rigid, she continued. “anyway, i want from that white dust you gave me last time.”

she couldn’t even carve a wider grin on his face, even if she wanted to.

“so you liked it? it’s better than your stupid pills.” y/n had a poker face, but she wondered how he got to know. “you’re not the only one who knows things in the family.” fucker, you don’t even know everything, yet you still play like you’re the most clever. the funny thing is that it ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble, no. it's what you know for sure that just ain't so.

“i have business somewhere else soon, can i get it or not?”

“it will cost some money, but i am always happy to help my family.” oh, fuck off. y/n reached her hand like she wanted to shake hands with him, and this way, demand and supply met. “if you drink some of it, it’ll be better. you are a crazy bitch y/n, but if snow really will be the president, remember me as one of your biggest supporters.” he smiled. “oh, and volumnia heard some of his great ideas about getting more audience for the games. if you’ll work for her, that ugly power couple thing can be really dangerous.” what ideas? she knew it was a problem that the game wasn't so popular, and he thought that coriolanus wasn’t so interested in that. of course, until now, because big money was at stake, and everybody was prowling around the corner. y/n curled the corner of her lips up under duress, bidding goodbye to festus. she wasn’t gonna take it now, she used it only for emergencies.

now, she could completely focus on coriolanus. where was he? walking to the other long hallway, looking around, he was nowhere despite that they stuck to eleven am yesterday. suddenly, she felt two hands on her shoulder, making her turn.

“there you are!” there he was. y/n could look at him for an eternity, could he look better under eleven hours? everything about him was perfect, from the way he looked to the point he talked, and y/n almost tasted the sweetness when his mind was forming those clever, great thoughts. and his looks? she knew they could have the most precious children; angel blonde hair, blue eyes, chiseled jawline she could kiss a million times, his body was sculpted by the gods who were looking down on them, and she prayed every night to the deities so they could be each other’s one day. in y/n’s mind, coriolanus wasn’t just a boy or a soon-to-be-man. no, he was the base of everything, he had everything that y/n needed, and y/n was raised truly the best way. nobody else could get in the near of the perfection he formed, and y/n could see the future. the future, where they marry, she is in the longest, most beautiful white dress full with gemstones like rubies, sapphires, diamonds and emeralds, vowing endless loyalty to each other, the whole world is envious of the wealth they have. the future, where he becomes the president of panem, leading the nation with a strong hand and making decisions with a strong mind, while y/n helped to make the games more impressive, more dangerous, more cruel, but first of all, supporting him in everything, even if she has to get her hands dirty. the future, where she was pregnant with his children, naming them ancient names so they could mirror the same noble qualities those deities had, raising them the best way so they could even outgrow them, perfect people. “how was your morning?”

the future they could have. the future they WILL have.

“hello, corio. mine was pretty good, got my graduating papers. how was your day so far?”

“it was… good, i guess? this mentoring thing is new for everyone, i spent all night thinking how lucy gray could win.”

that name, again. keep it cool.

“i’m sure you will think it out. shall we go and eat lunch?”

sitting in a gorgeous, golden restaurant, y/n chose a corner for them to sit in. when their food arrived, she waited for him to speak. it seemed like something was itching his mind, and she was one of his best friends, wasn't she? corio looked to the side, then at her, then took a bite from his lunch. let’s break the ice.

“is everything okay, corio?”

“yes, yes, everything’s fine. is it… on my face?”

“well, since i…” don’t make it too personal. “...since we know each other so well, i see worry on your face. you can tell me everything.”

“it’s… it’s gonna be really, really embarrassing for me, but… so, y/n, it’d be my pleasure if… you’d come with me on a date?”

clawing on her thigh, was this reality? was coriolanus really, really asking her out in this glorious place? was she truly worthy of his love? moderating her grin to a smile, she looked at him. he was truly a love-child of an angel and a god, and while y/n was truly a masterpiece herself, it was the biggest honor for her to get into the grace of this guy. now, the idea of the wedding and the best imaginable life wasn’t so far away. did the gods hear her prayers above, and saw the list she created?

“forget it, y/n, i know i’m not–” coriolanus tried to hush the previous idea with an embarrassed look on his face, but y/n shook her head. obviously, her mind wandered for too long.

“no, no! of course i’d go on a date with you. with pleasure.” y/n smiled, slowly reaching for his hand that was on the table. they touched each other frequently before, but not like this. she hated a part of herself, the part that could melt under his touch and got dizzy from only his skin. but truly, she could eat it up if she could.

“oh, okay, well… i just… thought that it’s embarrassing, because you pay for all of this, and–” never let a man’s pride falter. it’s the firewood for the campfire, the pressure for the diamond, the water for the plants. if you feed a man’s ego, he’ll trust and love you.

“corio, dear, please. i’m not with you because of your money, we can’t do anything about our past and families. and you’re gonna win the plinth-prize, so what are we worrying about?”

“but–” y/n hushed him gently, playing her finger in front of her lips.

“i’m sure you will win that prize. why, who else would win it? the daughter of an energy secretary? or a rich, spoiled kid?”

“they are all rich and spoiled.” y/n totally let pass the fact that she was too. but what was the problem with it, really? they couldn’t do anything about it, you can’t decide where you were born. a person can change everything about itself, but not its origin. it always stays with you, clinging onto your ankle, to drag with yourself everywhere. in this life, they got on the winning side of the wheel. and who cares about the next life?

“but no one’s father is a general, except you. and i know that you didn’t like him, but keep the mindset.”

“you are so clever, y/n. thank you for always putting my mind into it’s place.”

“i’m just telling the truth. and… how are things with the game? is it hard?”

“oh, it’s… i still need to figure out some things. but i had some ideas about ways to get people more engaged in the games, like getting them sponsors, or interviewing the tributes so the viewers can get closer to them, pick a favorite, some things like this.”

“it sounds really interesting, did volumnia hear these things?” as much as she hated festus’ bragging, he also mentioned things that she could use. maybe that’s why everybody got rid of her so fast at a big gathering like the graduation two days ago. she never had ‘juicy tea’ or some things like that, only if she wanted to get something. and when she wanted to get something, the chamber of secrets instantly opened.

“yeah, well she came in when we were discussing those things. she said that i need to write it down, and then clemensia interrupted that we’ve always worked and brainstormed together, so we can write that together, too.”

totaling another pen, dovecote? being a tricky bitch, i wasn’t expecting less from you.

“i think volumnia should know that the idea was yours. clemensia is your good friend, but why wasn’t she just cheering that you got the gamemaker’s attention?” plant the seed. maybe not with clemensia, she will do it for herself, but anyway. coriolanus needed to know the truth.

“i will talk with her about this.” he won’t. he’s too kind-hearted for it. “and i’ll write down my ideas. anyway, how’s your application for volumnia gaul? did you hand it in?” y/n nodded at his question, chewing on the potatoes.

“got handed it in yesterday. i really hope if i go home this afternoon, a letter will be waiting for me.” the smile on his face was worth everything. what could that mouth do if there were only the two of them? because she knew what her mouth could do.

“i’m sure she’ll hire you. one of your thesis got onto her table, remember? the one you wrote about the possible content of venom in mono– and dicotyledons. and if she’s not, then she’s a dingbat.” y/n remembered that thesis, her brain always burned out from the three-day long insomnia.

“careful, corio! i hope she doesn’t have ears everywhere.” that woman was the queen on her chess table, it was the side that could never be decided.

all the way home, she thought about coriolanus. y/n gotta hide the grin she was forming with her lips when she was driving home with the chauffeur of the family. all the effort, all the pain… it was worth it. she almost teared up from the joy, but her mascara was really expensive, even her mother thought that it was too rich for their blood.

“is everything alright, miss y/l/n?” helius, their private driver asked, looking into the rear-view mirror. y/n nodded, exhaling and inhaling. big news like this always messed with her head. nodding, everything was perfect.

stepping inside the house, she raced up to her room immediately. there was the letter, persephone slept beside it. picking it up, y/n used her nails to tear it up. she never waited for news like this. the sooner she knew, the sooner she could got suit in the new situation.

dear y/n y/l/n, you got accepted…

throwing it away, she instantly picked up persephone, screaming into her fur. persephone meowed, already used to her owner’s insane habits. anyway, the food was tasty in the house, so why not bear it?

“you hear this, persephone? the lucky star is shining on us.” she whispered to the cat, stroking her head. she couldn't sit back, not now. not when good things, the reward of the hard work could be felt. not when everything worked for her plans. “mother and father will be so happy. and we are happy too, aren't we?”

y/n didn't know happiness, only when her heart got fast and drug-like feeling curled in her blood. but now, she got to be a predator. a predator who sat for hours, days to catch its prey. when news were coming in, things always changed. she had to be patient, but she couldn't get lazy, not now. not when strange news was coming up. news that didn’t match with her expectations, nowhere, never. news that bathed her soul with venom. news that raised her little game onto a new level.

a/n: the prologue got so many notes like my tumblr literally BLEW UP thank you so much girliez 😭 i hope you liked this part, more focus will be on corio i just want to size up reader's mindset

take care of yourself babes, love y'all luisa

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow icons #coriolanus x reader #hunger games x reader #hunger games imagine #hunger games fic #hunger games fanfiction #ballad of songbirds and snakes imagine #ballad of songbirds and snakes

523 notes · View notes

befemininenow · 11 months

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Are you a trans girl or non-conforming and would like to try out feminine clothing? You may want to check this out.

Say you found this dress online and you really love the overall style of it. Great! If you’re like me, you would say “F it! I’ll buy the dress and I’ll wear it how I like!” and move on with your life. That should the end of this guide, right? Except, there is one little problem: not everybody thinks this way. Those who look for the best matching outfits aren’t just searching to fit their style, color, or personality. It also has to do with their body type. If you’re in that situation, this guide may help you out.

Body shape

Believe it or not, there are many different types of body shape (up to 10). However, the most common tend to be the following (in no order):

Rectangle- Even distribution on shoulders, hips, and waistline

Pear/Triangle- Wide hips, well-defined waist, small shoulders

Hourglass- Near-exact hip and shoulder measurements, thinner waistline

Inverted Triangle- Broader shoulders, narrower hips, little waist definition

Apple/Round- Broad shoulders and big bust, thin legs and hips

Many transgender women have the inverted triangle body shape due to several factors such as genetics, bone structure, and age. However, your body shape may also change over time due to a rebalancing of hormones, body fat, and even lifestyle. While you can’t change your bone structure, you can change your body definition through exercises.

Body proportion

Here is something you may find useful if you’re looking to customize your look. Body proportions are unique to every individual and play a factor on clothing and to some extent, accessories such as jewelry. For instance, you may find the skirt you bought looks either too long or short. There are a few areas where to measure your body proportions such as wrist length or neck size. But the best way to improve your dress type is by following the “golden ratio rule” of dividing your body into three:

The way this is read is you’re either one-third top, two-thirds bottom, or you’re two-thirds top, one-third bottom. Once you get more knowledge, you can go upwards even eighths! But for now, the focus is on these two outcomes.

The two-thirds top, one-third bottom words well with long dresses:

while the one-third top, two-thirds bottom works well with more casual clothing:

Body measurements

Now that we got a few problems out of our way, it’s time to figure out what measurements you have. The best way to find out is by using a mirror and a soft measuring tape for body. Measure all the crucial parts of your body, which are the waist, hips, shoulders, and bust. This will determine the type of body you have and have a better idea on what length you will need to try out your clothing of choice.

Shoe size

One thing very important about an outfit is choosing footwear. Although you can use your old Converses with your flared jeans, you’re certainly not going to use them with a ruffled dress. You’re definitely going to want heels or flats! Unfortunately, women’s shoe size are not exactly the same as men. But don’t give up! Fortunately, there are women’s size conversion charts that help you choose what shoe size you need.

To find out your measurements on your own, grab at least two blank pieces of paper, a pencil or pen, and a measuring tape. Place your foot firmly forward and carefully trace around the outer area of your foot. Repeat this with your other foot. Once finished, grab your measuring tape and measure from your highest point to your lowest on both sheets. Measure the width as well. If both feet measure close to 10.5, your women’s size is a 12. However, due to a difference in manufacturing based on shoe brand, as well as shoe type like pumps, the average recommended size is at least 2 inches above your actual size. For those living in other countries that don’t use the US measuring size, I left a chart that shows all the possible measurements you may use to convert your shoe size into women’s size.

What to wear based on body type

Since not all clothing is made for everyone, it’s time to list what is considered the “ideal” clothing choices based on body type. Note that these are opinions from my source’s authors. IMO, the pictures below each suggestion are a better opinion. Your are free to choose your type of clothing.

Rounded or apple shapes fit best with monochrome colors and make the person look more “fit”.

Pear or triangle shapes look more balanced with decorative accessories on top while keeping the bottom more plain.

Rectangle shapes tend to have more volume with a waist belt while pleated pants give more volume on hips.

Hourglass shapes look best when wearing bodycon dresses and cardigans to emphasize volume in their waistline.

Inverted triangle shapes pull off the wide leg pants and fitted top combo the best.

For a much more comprehensive guide for each body type, I highly recommend reading The Concept Wardrobe’s guides. It gives more details on what to wear and how to choose the best combinations. Link is provided here: https://theconceptwardrobe.com/search?query=body+frame

Tips on what to wear

Now that you reached this point, I’m pretty sure you’re excited to try out what your heart desires. However, before you go out and buy that two-piece dress, I recommend researching and observing the type of clothing women wear today. Believe it or not, people will judge based on your way of dressing, from background to social status to age. A simple look like bodysuit and jeans may look perfect on you and blend you in with the girls, but something like a hot pink bodycon will make you stand out, and most likely not in a good way. So how would you choose something that blends you in with society, but also be comfortable at the same time? Here are some tips and pics:

Find clothing that “feels” feminine. In other words, buy clothing that “feminizes” your body, such as tops that make your shoulders look shorter, wrap dresses that make your waistline shorter, and skirts that make your hips look wider.

Find the best colors based on skin tone and hair color. For instance, try out warm colors such as orange if your skin tone is warm.

Dress sexy, but never go too revealing. Seriously, have some respect to yourself. But if you really want to go out wearing, for example, a two-piece outfit, wear one that looks stylish and flatters your body in a great way.

Use accessories that fit and blend well with your body. Large jewelry goes well with larger frame, small jewelry fits with smaller wrist, and so forth. Don’t forget the purse! It is absolutely necessary now that you’re wearing pocketless clothing. Choose one that fits your taste and needs.

Bras and undergarments are necessary to wear now. As you further into your transition, your breasts will start growing and it will become more difficult and uncomfortable going out braless. Start out with a brassiere, then move on to a fitted bra as they become bigger over time. As for down there, I would use boy briefs as they’re similar to boxers. Although HRT will cause it to shrink, it does not make it disappear. If you must hide it, use a gaff or a tuck, but do not use chastity belts (Seriously, stay away from that unless you’re really into that thing).

Optional: use waist shapers or corsets to slim down waist. Hip enlargement pads will also give your narrow hips and butt much needed volume. Breast forms can also give you an idea how big you want them in the future.

Fashion sense

But the most important part of choosing clothing as a trans girl is to wear whatever suits your taste.

For instance, are you more into the traditional and simple feminine aesthetic? Cottagecore may be for you:

But what if you’re the rebellious type that prefers to defy tradition? Well, maybe the alt-girl fashion is for you:

Maybe you’re the type that changes clothing based on season. So if you’re a summer-season type of girl, you’re definitely going for an outfit like this:

How about if you’re into the gym? Clearly your goal is to be like this:

Are you into business casual? There’s also a pic for that:

(The girl in the pic is also transgender! Her name is Suzi Hunter, better known as The Sphere Hunter.)

But we also can’t forget cosplay, either!:

(Cosplayer is Eden the Doll, a trans woman cosplayer! Picture belongs to Geo Leon.)

You’re probably the party type who loves some action:

Casual wear can also be tasteful and attractive too:

There’s so much to pic, but each style says a lot about what type of woman you are.

Where to buy clothing

If you’re interested in finding the right clothes for you, check out places that are especially gender-inclusive. As I’m based in the US, clothing stores such as Target are a good start while higher-end chains such as Nordstrom and Macy’s may have a better variety to choose from. If you’re a thrifty shopper, your local outlets, discount stores, and thrift shops have a surprising amount of great clothing for affordable prices. Although online sites like Amazon, Shein, and Zara have affordable and appealing clothing, many of these brands also have ethical concerns that overshadow their reputation. Dubbed “fast fashion”, they are a source of scrutiny among fashion fans and I would personally avoid them if possible. If you really need something affordable and new, I highly recommend purchasing through discount and thrift stores.

If you’re in need of safe undergarments, check out Urbody. They have clothing suitable for trans people, non-binary, and other identities, varying from binders to tucked leggings. They are founded by trans and non-binary people and use ethical practices and living wages for their workers. If you’re interested in checking their site out, here is the link to their page (I am not sponsored by them): https://urbody.co/

Conclusion

The whole point of this guide is to help you pick the proper clothing and accessories as a newly-out girl. I made this guide since there doesn’t seem to be many that are detailed. Keep in mind I’m still learning about female clothing as I am still in the first stages of transition myself. If anyone would like to add more info that is missing or provide any corrections, please reblog and add more helpful tips as it would help trans girls, trans women, non-binary, and anyone else that desires to wear affirming clothing. Please refrain from using any hurtful language if you’re doing so. Thank you and hugs!

Links to sources:

https://www.healthline.com/health/women-body-shapes#why-shape-fluctuates

https://www.thestylatude.com/post/the-most-common-body-shapes-for-women-and-how-to-find-out-yours

https://theconceptwardrobe.com/build-a-wardrobe/inverted-triangle-body-shape

https://www.thestylebouquet.com/2020/02/17/5-most-common-body-shapes-for-women/

https://dressedformyday.com/how-to-discover-your-body-proportions/

https://gabriellearruda.com/how-to-dress-better-female-body-shape/

https://m2fguide.com/how-to-pick-clothes-if-youre-transgender-or-crossdressing/

https://feminizationsecrets.com/mtf-clothing-tips/

https://www.instagram.com/p/CHBk9v0J_WO/

https://www.transgendermap.com/social/clothing-accessories/

https://apexfoot.com/shoe-sizing-chart/

https://www.glamourboutique.com/crossdresser-fashion/guide-male-female-shoe-sizes-33255#:~:text=Minimize%20the%20chance%20of%20having,11%20in%20a%20women's%20shoe

#transgender #mtf #fashion #how to #gender affirming #trans #clothing #feminine #genderfluid #quick #guide #helpful #tips #trans woman

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ackermanbloodline · 7 months

Text

Take Me - Levi Ackerman x Female Reader

Summary: You allow Levi to take your viriginity.

Word Count: About 5k.

Warnings: Smut. 18+, MDNI, NSFW.

* * *

You and Levi have just finished eating dinner. Between the two of you, he is most definitely the cook. Tonight, he made the most delicious, mouth-watering lasagna with a Caesar salad and strawberry cheesecake for dessert. You could never level up to his culinary skills. It never quite made sense to you how he had the time to learn how to cook given his demanding and exhausting title. Still, though, you don’t question it.

As the two of you are teaming up to tackle the dishes, the space is quiet. Not in an uncomfortable way, but a comforting silence sort of way. That’s one of the beautiful things about your relationship with him: you two could sit in silence together and it would be just as intimate as any conversation. Levi is scrubbing the dishes (he, of course, insisted on it) and you rinse them off carefully and put them into the drying rack.

His sleeves are rolled up to the bend of his elbow and you can’t help but sometimes stare at his pale skin and the faint veins popping up underneath it. How strong yet calculated his hands work to make the plates clean. And sometimes your gaze lingers onto his face, studying his sculpted jawline and his sharp nose. The way his eyebrows furrow together in concentration, just like out on the battlefield.

“Hey, you missed a spot, brat.”

You’re snapped out of your thoughts with the sudden low, raspy voice. You look down at the plate that you are just about to put into the drying rack. Some leftover pasta sauce is on the edge of the rim. You turn on the faucet again and run it over water, getting the spot off effortlessly.

You say sarcastically, “Glad I have you to keep me in line.”

“Mhm,” he responds with an equally snarky tone. “What would you do without me?”

“Crash and burn.”

“Obviously.”

You smile to yourself and continue the dishes in silence.

About twenty minutes later, you’re on the couch with your legs draping over Levi’s lap with candles lit all around you. While you’re reading a romance book, he’s reading the horrors of today’s newspaper. Every now and then, his hand drifts across your calves and gently squeezes. It seems like such a mundane gesture, but each time he does it, it makes your heart leap into your mouth.

You somehow get distracted by him again. You read the same page three times over before you give up. You don’t know what it was tonight, but you were simply captivated by Levi. Your eyes drift over the page to his jawline again and then to his gray eyes, back down to his neck and chest. The long sleeve gray shirt fits him so well, clinging to his muscles and showing off the dips and curves of them.

How the Levi Ackerman chose you out of everybody in the military, you will never know.

You bite your lip for a moment, thinking about a crazy idea and debating in your mind. You decide to roll with it. You throw the book to the side and get up quickly, causing Levi’s attention to avert from the newspaper to you. You grab it from him and toss it on the coffee table and lower yourself down onto his lap. His eyes go wide. You interlace your fingers behind his neck and smile at him casually. You can already see his cheeks getting hot.

You swoop down to his neck and gently place your lips on the skin there. Your entire senses become filled with the distinguished scent of his cologne. You practically could get high off it. He gasps softly, almost inaudibly, and his body becomes stiff.

“Hey, wh… What’re you doing?”

“Nothin’...” you say lowly. His hands land on your sides and you reel from him. You bite your lip, “Do you want me to stop?”

“Did I say that?”

He gently pulls on the back of your waist to close the space between you two. You giggle quietly and lean against him as your mouth goes to his ear, gently brushing the plump skin of your lips against the cold shell of his ear. He readjusts his grip on your hips, fingers lightly digging into the flesh of your curves and closes his eyes.

For the past month or so now, you have been testing the waters with Levi to see how much self-restraint he actually could exercise when it comes to you. It always ended the same: him going out for a walk or taking a shower while you tend to yourself.

You were a virgin for many reasons. Once Levi found out, he nearly lost his mind. In fact, he didn’t believe you initially. There’s no way a beautiful girl like you wasn’t swooped up and taken care of in the way you deserved to be.

After a discussion, you two had both made a vow to take things slow. While you were a virgin for many reasons, you had fantasized about Levi taking it for a long time. So many nights you had fantasized about his rock-hard cock pumping in and out of you at an insufferable pace. Picturing what his muscles would look like tensed up like that. Trying to picture his face. What his moans would sound like.

But tonight, you want to see it for yourself. Not in your mind, but right in front of you in real life. Maybe this sporadic decision is partly a result of the wine from dinner, but you’re convinced. You’re ready.

When you enclose your mouth around his earlobe and make a conscious effort to deepen your breathing and ever-so-softly let out moans now and again. You feel a hard bulge growing underneath your pelvis. His hands land on your knees and travel upward on your legs, squeezing your thighs as libido spikes.

Levi calls out your name.

“You’re on thin ice.”

As you pull away from him, you place gentle kisses on his face. Once you’re face to face with him and the pad of your thumb is stroking against his cheek, you speak.

“I’m ready.”

At first, he gives you a slightly confused look. But once you bite your lip at him, he knows exactly what you mean. His eyebrows furrow.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

His eyes switch between your eyes and mouth before a slight smile grows onto his lips. He securely wraps an arm around your waist and before you know it, he playfully slams you down onto the couch below like a rag doll and climbs over you. A laugh escapes your mouth but it’s muffled when Levi presses his lips on yours.

His tongue is calculated and gentle as it enters your mouth. The slickness and warmth of it collide against yours and a rush of heat goes to your cunt. Levi’s touch travels to the side of your face and the pad of his thumb brushes across your cheek in soothing wiper motions. Your hand instinctively lands on his wrist as your spine arches off the couch in an effort to get him closer. The sound of you two passionately kissing fills the room.

You manage to capture his tongue and suck on it. You slightly bob your head up and down a few times before letting go and a soft groan releases from Levi’s throat. His fingers lift up your chin slightly before he sinks down and buries his face in your neck. His hips lower further down into yours and you can feel his hard-on already through his black slacks. Sparks of lust travel through your veins once he slowly begins to roll himself into you, kissing your neck as he does so with his grip still on your chin. Your breathing picks up and your eyelids flutter closed. Your hand wanders up to his undercut and lightly pulls at the long strands of his hair while the other glides over the strong muscles of his back.

Levi’s wandering touch moves down to your leg and slightly squeezes softly but firmly at your thigh. When your hips shift upward to meet his, he quickly wraps an arm around your middle and lifts you up. Your legs instinctively wrap around him as he brings you into his bedroom, all the while not breaking a kiss with you.

When you two reach his bed, he sits down and lays back, wanting to see how beautiful you look while on top of him and flooded with lust. Your pupils are blown out and his are, as well. A light blood blush has spread across your cheeks. In his mind, you’ve never looked more breathtaking than you do now. He reaches up, wraps his fingers around your neck, and softly pulls you down onto him.

You grind yourself down onto his dick and his pelvic rocks up to meet yours. Small whimpers of pleasure rip from your throat with each movement. Levi’s eyes clamp shut and he draws his lip in between his teeth. His brain is reeling from how hard he is and how much he wants to bury himself deep inside you. So badly that he doesn’t think there are even words in existence to describe it.

When you feel your hips start to tire, you collapse next to him and he leans over to kiss you. Against your lips, he mutters a few words.

“Touch yourself for me.”

You are taken aback as butterflies erupt through your stomach with those simple words. You pull away and look at him with apprehension, waiting for him to speak again.

“I want to see how pretty you look when you do it.”

It’s not like masturbation is a foreign concept to you. That’s not what concerns you. It’s that you have never done it in somebody else’s presence in this way. You always did it by yourself, alone. And to think that Levi is about to watch you do it is a little unnerving. But also very hot at the same time.

“Okay.”

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, gauging the shakiness and apprehension in your voice. “You can do it.”

Your fingers travel slowly down your torso and bury themselves in the hem of your pants, diving past your underwear. And you’re soaked. Although you shouldn’t be surprised since Levi has that effect on you, you somehow still are. Once you circle your entrance a few times, your touch goes to your clit and draws tight but lazy circles around it. Even though you shut your eyes in an attempt to feel less pressure, his gaze stays glued to you. He’s transfixed on the sight of your hand in your pants and your countenance.

The second you quietly moan his name, you feel him shift away from you. You open your eyes and cease your actions for only a moment until you’re realizing what he’s doing. He undoes his belt and his hand buries itself down below. He didn’t do this very often but he needs to feel some sort of relief. It’s painful. Although you can’t see his cock, his black briefs are wet with his precum and he works carefully to spread it around his tip. Then he plants a firm grasp around himself and goes up and down, slowly.

You both try to match up the pace with each other's movements. And, as a result, your breathing and moans are synched up. Each groan Levi lets out encourages you to go faster and each whimper you let out causes a wave of heat to reverberate throughout his pelvis.

Levi sheds his shirt and throws it on the ground. You follow in his direction and pull your shirt over your head. But the moment is interrupted when you somehow, someway, get yourself stuck.

“Crap. Levi?” you call out with a laugh as your arms are over your head and head buried in your shirt. “Can you give me a hand, please?”

He chuckles, “Sure.”

He sits up and pulls the fabric upward and your arms go free. Once it joins Levi’s shirt on the floor, you pull him in for a loving kiss.

You smile, “Thanks.”

You both also take this moment to take off your pants. This leaves you only in underwear and a bra. The two of you go back to what you were doing, watching each other with hunger and desire. This is hotter than you could’ve ever imagined. Your imagination is proved wrong when Levi’s hand ghosts over your stomach and plays with the hem of your underwear. His fingers dip into your underwear and trace along your sex, coating his fingers with you. Making careful traces around your clit. His dick throbs when he feels it, how wet you are for him. He pulls them out.

“Would you look at that?” he says breathily, studying his fingers like they are the most interesting thing in the world. They glisten in the moonlight.

Then he goes back to himself and uses it for lubrication.

Fuck.

You grab his wrist and pry it off and practically shove his hand back to where it was. You pull his dick out free from his briefs and take it in with all of your glory. It’s perfect in every way. As he begins to play with your clit, you take him in your hand and jack him off, slowly. His cock feels so smooth in your hands from all the slickness of you and him combined. It all feels so good, your eyes roll to the back of your head. You’re in a world of euphoria.

His fingers work gentle movements around your clit and you shift your pelvis against his fingers to try to get him to go faster. His voice is raspy as he brushes his lips lower down to your ear.

“Easy, sweetheart. There’s no rush.”

A few minutes pass by and you can feel a coil in the pit of your stomach tensing more and more with each second. His fingers know what they’re doing. Not even you could get yourself off this quickly. You let go of his dick and wrap your hands around his strong arm as his fingers still work against your cunt. Your whole body is tense and you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. Levi knows you’re close and he’s slightly amused by how your body responded to his touch.

He knows that your heart, body, and soul are all his. And out of the things you could ever do or say to him, that thought gets him the most turned on.

He stops what he’s doing and with surprise and disappointment, your gaze falls to him. His lips collide against yours ever so slowly. He tilts his head to get a better angle onto your mouth and his tongue works delicately to trace along your teeth. When your hand reaches down to touch yourself out of pure neediness, he wraps a hand around your fist and gently but firmly pins it to the bed beside your head.

“Mmm,” you quietly moan into his mouth.

He pulls away and looks into your eyes. All you can see in one another’s faces are pure lust and love. Nothing else.

He’s out of breath as his fingers ghost across your pelvic bone, teasingly brushing against the hair there.

“Can I taste you?”

“God, I thought you’d never ask,” you laugh.

“Oh yeah?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You’re going to regret saying that, brat.”

He gets up and stands at the foot of the bed. Seeing you splayed out for him, your hair making waves across his duvet, your cheeks flushed with desire, your full naked body in his gaze… he can’t help but admire how breathtaking you look. He kneels down, smoothly wraps his arms around your legs, and thrusts you forward against his chest so your ass is at the very edge of the mattress. And slowly, he spreads your legs apart. Your cunt, puffy and pink, is soaked. Practically dripping. While he loses his breath, you can feel your face start to turn red. You start to worry whether or not you’re pretty enough for him and what he thinks. When you feel his breath fan across you, though, your self-consciousness practically dissolves.

Gingerly, Levi plants kisses along the inners of your thighs, his tongue occasionally drawing circular figures into your skin in a savoring way. The sound of his lips quietly smacking against your flesh fills your ears. And then he plants a kiss on your pussy, causing a jolt of pleasure to spike through your system. It’s amplified when he makes one giant stripe along your slit. You close your eyes and arch your back against his face.

His tongue laps you up, brushing over your clit again and again. He closes his mouth around it and carefully sucks on it. He’s eating you as if it’s his last meal. His mouth works skillfully to draw various sounds from you as his sharp nose is buried in your pubic hair. He wants to hear you loud and clear. And it’s not hard to achieve. The warmth and wetness of his tongue feels nothing like you’ve ever imagined. It feels so good that you can’t stop from moaning his name loudly, not caring if other people hear.

He draws back, sucking your lips into his mouth as he does so and they snap back towards you when he lets go.

“You have the prettiest pussy, you know that?”

You cannot even bring yourself to verbally respond to him but your pelvis contracts so hard with his words that it makes your head spin. Your breath quivers.

“I want you to say it.”

He pauses to let you respond. You take a few moments to catch your breath before looking down at him. His swollen lips are glistening and his hair is messy from your thighs being clenched around his head. His eyes are practically black.

“What?”

“I want you to say how pretty you are as I eat you out. And if you stop, I stop.”

“Okay,” you say hesitantly.

With a slight smirk on his face, his head dives back in between the apex of your thighs. He continues what he was doing before. He immediately draws a warm feeling that radiates throughout your entire body. He hums against your cunt and taps on your stomach twice to remind you. You feel a surge of uncertainty and embarrassment flood you.

“I’m… pretty.”

“Thatta girl.”

He starts again. The coil in your stomach grows again, building and building. As you say self-affirming phrases out loud, with much uneasiness, Levi awards you with his tongue. And as you get closer to the edge, it’s hard to talk. Only one or two words come out at a time. Levi’s dick has quite literally never been harder in his entire life.

With each word that drops from your lips, he hums in appreciation. The humming radiates throughout your skin and deep in your pelvis. Your hands find their way into Levi’s hair just to have something to hang onto.

You feel something trace along your entrance. It must be one of his fingers, you conclude.

“Can I?”

“Yes.”

He slowly inserts it in and it's an extremely foreign feeling. It doesn’t hurt, it’s just… weird. As it pushes against your walls, Levi licks at your clit to help with any uncomfortableness. He makes a certain motion with his finger. Your mouth drops with the stimulation you’re currently experiencing.

“God, you’re so beautiful. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, falling into his self-praise trap as you tighten your grip on his hair.

Your legs begin to shake slightly and your body tenses up once again. Your moans become quiet and you want to literally scream out when he sucks on your clit and shakes his head back and forth. You feel one of his hands grab yours and interlace your fingers together. His fingering and mouth are relentless. He adds his middle finger.

The coil inside of you is finally about to snap. It’s almost too much.

“Levi, I’m gonna… fuck.”

“That’s it, baby. Show me how pretty you are when you cum.”

Waves of orgasmic pleasure rip through your body as you reach your climax. Levi continues his movements and talks you through the entire thing while you are completely silent. Your legs shake and your grip on his hand is so strong that your knuckles turn white. Stars dance at the edges of your dark vision. You haven’t cum this hard, ever. The things that this man does to you…

His movements come to a stop as you come out of your trance. His fingers slip out and he licks them clean. He lays in between your legs and kisses you, hard, although you’re still a little dazed. You can hardly kiss back.

“Well done.”

You hum against his lips, “Mmm.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. That was just a lot.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Levi.”

“Okay.”

You sit up and try to flip him over, but your entire body is like jelly. He looks at you with a confused look written all over his face. His hands land on your shoulders and push you back down.

He asks, eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“Don’t you want me to… you know… please you now?”

“No, no, no… this is about you. I want to make you feel good. I come second… both figuratively and literally in this case.”

You both chuckle.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Levi picks you up and lays you up further on the bed. He adjusts himself a little bit and looks to you, reading your facial expressions to give away any sort of clue as to what you’re thinking, He brushes a stray strand of hair back behind your ear. You look up at him with love and adoration.

“I love you,” you say.

“I love you too. Always.”

He props himself up above you with one arm and uses his other hand to swipe the tip of his penis against your slick cunt, trying to get some lubrication before going in fully. He brushes up against your clit a few times, which makes you jump back a few times as you’re still a bit sensitive from your earlier orgasm. And then he goes in. It’s only the tip, but it already feels uncomfortable. You hiss.

“We’ll take it slow. Come on, breathe with me.”

His forehead connects to yours and you both close your eyes. Together, you take some inhales and exhales, maybe around 10? You aren’t sure. After that, you give him a nod to give him the permission to continue. He lowers his hips down a little, but that’s enough in itself. He stops when your fingers dig into his arm. He kisses your cheek.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Where are we at?”

“Hate to break it to you but this is still just the tip.”

“Oh my god,” you practically laugh, facepalming. “I’m fucked.”

“Both figuratively and literally.”

You slap his arm, “Shut up.”

“But in all seriousness, I need you to relax for me.”

You take a deep breath.

“Okay.”

You make an active effort to breathe into your pelvic floor, trying to get the muscles to relax there. With a couple of deep breaths, the uncomfortable feeling vanishes again. You give Levi another signal. The cycle repeats two or three times before he bottoms out in you once his pelvic bone is sitting on yours.

He hovers on top of you, “How are you feeling?”

“Feeling okay. You?”

“Never fucking better,” you both chuckle. “You… feel really damn good. Trying to not lose myself here. But I’m gonna start off slow and shallow, yeah?”

“Okay, I trust you.”

Levi retracts his hips slowly, just a few inches, then pushes them forward. It stings a little and it’s an odd feeling, like trying to stretch out a tight muscle. You try to focus on your breathing when your eyes are closed. You whimper a few times as he moves in and out of you as an occasional streak of pain overcomes your body. He plants a few brisk kisses to your lips.

“I know baby, I know. It’ll feel good soon, I promise.”

A few minutes pass by of Levi doing the same thing before you hatch an idea. You lick the pads of your fingers and reach down to play with yourself. It seemed to work when Levi was devouring you. Why not in this case? So, your fingers delicately stroke your clit in an attempt to drown out the pain and tension with pleasure. Once you find a rhythm, it works wonders.

He feels you tightening around him, practically suffocating and drowning his dick at once. He looks down to where you two connect, how his dick glistens as his cock disappears and reappears from inside you.

“Shit, fuuuuck…”

His pace and depth picks up with neediness. Using the headboard of his bed, he uses it for leverage and power to his thrusts. It bangs softly against the wall as he continues to fuck you. Watching your breasts bounce with each snap of his pelvis adds to his arousal, chasing his high with vigor. The sounds he makes are intoxicating to hear. Heavy breathing and with an occasional whimper and moan here and there. Your name even slips out a few times.

You try to pull your hand away from your clit to gauge how your pussy is adjusting to him and to your surprise, the tension is gone. Completely. Your arms wrap around his neck to pull him onto your body, needing skin-to-skin contact. He buries his head in the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“Ugh, it feels like I’m about to cum already.”

“It’s okay,” you breathe.

“But… fuck… I don’t want to. I want this to last. I don’t think I could – oh shit – ever get enough of this. Enough of you.”

You moan at his words and kiss his shoulder in response. Another orgasm is building, somehow. He sits himself up again and looks over you.

“Squeeze me like you were, please.”

Your hand returns downward in tight flicks. Your pussy presses around his dick again which causes his eyes to roll back in his head. Hearing his moans become more and more frequent, you know he’s edging.

“Cum with me,” he almost demands. “I need you to.”

With a few strokes later, you give him a nod and he pulls out, jacking himself off onto your stomach. The sight is so erotic as you experience your second orgasm. While he ejaculates, he collapses back down onto you and his cock slickly rubs between your bodies as he rides out his high. Your other hand claws down his back and leaves a trail of red marks in their wake. The sounds you two make together are just filthy.

Once your bodies settle, you two are quiet. Levi is pressing his full body weight into you as you run your free hand through his hair. He places soft kisses against the side of your neck as you do so. Everything feels so surreal in this current moment. So still. A slight ringing in your ears and a glow in your vision. You could fall asleep here.

A few minutes pass and Levi shifts and lifts himself up, looking down at the spiderwebs of his cum between your bodies.

“There’s… so much,” you gape.

“Yeah, well… that’s what you do to me. Don’t move.”

He gets up and goes into the bathroom and you hear the faucet running. It turns off. Levi appears with a gray, wet washcloth in his hand and a towel wrapped around his core. With a few swipes across your stomach, he cleans up his mess on you. He straightens his spine and looks at you.

“Open your legs.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to see if you’re bleeding at all.”

“Okay.”

He carefully pries apart your knees and carefully inspects your vagina. He tosses the washcloth into the dirty clothes basket in the corner of the room. He sits on the edge of the bed and grazes his hand up and down.

“Anything I can get you?”

“Maybe some water.”

“Sure. There wasn’t any blood that I could see. You go to the bathroom and I’ll get us some water.”

He taps your thigh and leaves the room and you carefully stand up. Your legs feel like absolute jelly and there’s a slight stinging sensation in between your legs. You stumble your way to the restroom and close the door. You sit down on the toilet and go to the bathroom, the stinging becoming only a little more pronounced as you do so. You’re relieved to see that when you wipe that there isn’t any blood.

You look in the mirror and you look like a fucked-out mess. Your lips are swollen and even slightly bruised. Your hair is absolutely wild, to say the least. And there are a few dark spots developing on your body. You trace your fingers over them with care. They didn’t hurt at all and you didn’t even realize that Levi had left these marks on you. You shrug. You grab another towel from underneath Levi’s sink and wrap it around yourself.

You open the door to find Levi sitting on his bed with two water glasses with condensation on them. You smile as you walk towards him and take one.

“Thanks.”

“It’s my honor.”

You both chug the water and set the glasses on his nightstand.

“I could use a shower,” he said.

“So would I.”

Levi stands up and rips your towel off before carrying you bridal style to the bathroom. You squeal with the sudden gesture.

“C’mon, time for round two.”

858 notes · View notes

star-anise · 1 year

Text

So I've been watching this series of videos where a research-focused psychologist goes through Jordan Peterson's work to see which of his ideas and arguments are based on solid empirical evidence. I love it, even though she does mistakenly say his background is in counselling psychology (my field) when he's actually a clinical psychologist.

Anyway, that's got me thinking about Jordan Peterson, and how his response to criticism is, "People have been after me for a long time because I’ve been speaking to disaffected young men — what a terrible thing to do, that is. [...] I thought the marginalized were supposed to have a voice.”

So, here's my theory: Young men of the 21st century have grown up in a culture that is specifically hostile and punitive towards them. However, I think that while girls and women can participate in this culture, it is as much or more the work of boys and men. And I think that the problem with Peterson is that he's not particularly good at helping his audience escape the maze they are trapped in--and he's absolutely opposed to any attempt to dismantle a maze that is actually of fairly recent manufacture.

Case in point: The metrosexual.

The word "metrosexual" was coined in 1994 by Mark Simpson, a gay writer whose settings seem to be perpetually fixed at "critique the shit out of it".

"Metrosexual" describes heterosexual men who might be mistaken as gay, because they are interested in things very common among gay men, including: Caring about whether they're attractive; caring about how their hair is cut and what products they use in it; caring about what clothes they wear; working out to make their bodies look better; frequenting nightclubs. To be "metrosexual" was, in some people's opinions, to be a "man-boy" searching for his "inner girl".

To be metrosexual was, in some ways, to be called someone who looked gay.

The term didn't really catch on until the early 2000s, when media became briefly obsessed with talking about which celebrities were "metrosexual" or not. In that era of hotly divided opinions over the acceptability of homosexuality and queerness, it was implicitly asking, "Who looks gay? Is he gay? Tell me, fellow broadcaster: How gay does this guy look to you?"

(They got to have their cake and eat it too. A liberal audience, desperate to gather as many LGBTQ+ people and allies as possible in their race for 50% acceptance of gay marriage, cherished any signs that people with social clout might be on their side. And a conservative one, watching the same discussion, would heartily enjoy seeing a rogues' gallery of degenerate Hollywood types paraded before them, their every effeminacy pointed out in loving detail.)

Which of course got us: The Retrosexual!

When everybody's helpfully compiling lists of all the things a man can do that look gay or unmanly, dudes who don't want to get the shit kicked out of them by homophobes know all the things not to do!

Therefore, being "manly" became strictly defined by what was off-limits. To be a Real Man meant you shouldn't care about whether you're attractive, or what soap you use, or how your hair is styled. You shouldn't enjoy dancing or get too enthusiastic about music. A Real Man cares about sports and beer and being on top! Dominant!! A WINNER!!!

And, so like, here's a secret: In Anglophone culture, we are very affected by the Puritan legacy that says pleasure is inherently sinful. Vanity and pride--caring about how you look and whether you're attractive--are literal gateways to the Devil. Gluttony, and therefore seeking pleasure at all, is another such. And in Puritan religious theology, women are inherently more sinful. Yes, it goes back to Adam and Eve, and how Eve was tempted into sin first. Long story short, things associated with women became associated with sinfulness, and sinfulness became associated with effeminacy. And for centuries, you haven't even needed to be religious to drink these attitudes from the groundwater.

Okay, that's not the secret, this is the secret: Pleasure is not inherently sinful.

And liking how you look and feeling attractive and paying attention to your sensuality and your emotional life and connecting with art in a real and vulnerable way can feel really good, if you're able to handle it well.

Being raised to be a Real Man in a world where masculinity is perceived to be actively under threat is so uniquely painful, I believe, because every attempt to define yourself as "not gay" means denying yourself one of life's pleasures, and telling yourself you never even wanted it in the first place.

And then those desperate to be Real Men found a way to take some of those things back in what is surely the most painful context possible: They are allowed strictly as tools of your heterosexuality and masculine need for dominance. You are allowed to care about grooming and dancing, etc, purely as a strategy in playing a game called "Getting Girls", where you either score or you don't, where not scoring means you're worthless and unlovable, and scoring is often... strangely unfulfilling and certainly not enough to fill the aching void inside of you.

The mistake both Peterson and his fanbase make is that they get to this point, and then think: The reason I feel so empty inside is... I just haven't gotten enough girls!

Maybe some guys get out of the maze by finding a woman who is allowed to care about things like affection and love and dancing and looking nice, and their connection with her lets them express all the other parts of their souls that didn't fit in the Real Man box, but can come out in roles like Boyfriend or Father.

But humans aren't telepathic, so relationships can only "fix" you so much as you're willing to do the work of nurturing your own soul in a safe environment, so for a lot of men the maze never ends, and sometimes they don't even get the fleeting joys of relationships or sex, since they're so fucked up about them!

At this point, I as a queer woman am like, "Solution's obvious! Dismantle the maze."

And Peterson, who has worked his whole life to achieve the status of Best Maze-Runner in All of Christendom, is clinging to it like, "NO! DOWN, YOU DARK CHAOTIC MOTHER! THIS MAZE GIVES MY LIFE MEANING! THIS MAZE CONNECTS ME TO MY FOREFATHERS! I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT THIS MAZE!"

At which point, like... what can you do but just leave him there?

At least he's not in my area of specialization. The world would be too unkind if I had to deal with him in any professional capacity. I wish Clinical Psychology all their continued joy of him.

#feminist discourse #masculinity #jordan peterson tw #to be honest #the moment I learned he was from Fairview and went to the UofA I was like 'OH IT ALL MAKES SENSE'#it's not that all of Fairview is one way because Rachel Notley and other very fine people come from Fairview #but there is a specific breed of Guys Who Come From Fairview #Who Study Psychology At the UofA #Who Like To Monologue About Conservative Politics #I can't explain it #it's a type #iykyk i guess

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whumpwillow · 4 months

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give me a vain whumpee. make him arrogant. make him conceited. So sure of himself, so proud of his own abilities that he looks down on everybody as lesser. He’s got a pretty face and plenty of wealth, perhaps a nobleman’s title, and he lives in complete luxury and splendor.

Now take away what makes him so proud of his abilities, or make it hard for him to do what he once did with ease, so now he struggles with even the slightest task. Take away his wealth and his reputation and his carefree life. Make him suffer endlessly, tormented without reprieve. Make him work for himself. Throw him in the dirt. Scar his face and body until he’s nearly unrecognizable, steal away his beautiful good looks until he thinks of himself as nothing but a monster.

He’s scarred and dirty and bedraggled. His hair is matted with knots and snarls and he just can’t bring himself to care. He lets all thoughts of his past go because they don’t serve him anymore when all he can do is merely try to survive, scrabbling fruitlessly at a bleak future against the torment that still plagues him.

He was once great. He was once respected. Now he wears the same stained clothes every day because he doesn’t have much else and doesn’t care what happens to him other than hoping what hurts him will hurt just a little less.

And then someone comes into his life. A someone who knows him, or at least who he used to be. Perhaps someone who knew him personally, perhaps not, and only heard rumors of the snooty nobleman with the vile temperament. This someone expects the whumpee to look down on them for being lesser, somehow, for being a commoner, or for being less skilled at whatever the whumpee used to pride themselves in accomplishing.

But he isnt. He doesnt have right to it anymore, not when he’s been reduced to this state. he’s little more than looking like a beggar or a drunkard or a madman with his messy hair and dirty clothes and scarred face and body. He hasn’t thought about his past vanity in years. He’s long since given up caring. He’s just wondering when the person will run from him, too offended by his hideous looks to stand being around him.

And then the someone, a caretaker, doesn’t run. Doesn’t cringe away at the sight of him, or at the sight of his face and body so riddled with scars and wounds that were never given the proper chance to heal.

The caretaker accepts this, and just makes sure to draw a bath for the whumpee. Caretaker helps whumpee with his hair, washing it in warm water and gently working out the knots. Whumpee doesnt know when the last time anybody had done this for them. Whumpee doesn’t remember how long its been since somebody touched them without violence.

Caretaker helps whumpee wash his face and get rid of all the dirt. They brush whumpee’s hair and whumpee is thrown back to images of their past self, when they would spend so long perfecting their appearance. Already, they feel more like themselves and yet less so, like a stranger, at the same time.

Whumpee breaks down. He hasn’t taken care of himself in so long because at first he was solely focused on survival, and later because he felt that he didn’t deserve to, that he didn’t deserve anything nice or anything from his old life, even something as simple as being clean.

Caretaker takes whumpee’s face in their hands, cupping his cheeks and looking into his eyes.

“You don’t have to suffer anymore.”

#THIS WAS MEANT TO BE A PROMPT BUT IT GOT OUT OF HAND #the tenses might be weird i wrote this on my phone with zero editing #whump #whump prompt #whump prompts #whump writing #whumpee #whump tropes #whump scenario #vain whumpee #arrogant whumpee

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agent-cupcake · 3 months

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Flashbang

Chapter 1 - Puppet Loosely Strung

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: Running away to join the circus doesn’t go exactly as you hoped it would.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, murder, generally dark content

Word Count: 13.9k

Disclaimer: I don’t read the manga or watch the anime. This is based solely on OPLA Buggy because Jeff Ward.

Some quick notes before we start: This is what I've been working on this since October. Originally it was going to be one really big one-shot posted at the same time, but it's big enough that I can justify posting it as a series. I'll add warnings as I go, but this is not a happy story and there will be explicit content later on. The reader character might not be somebody you see yourself in, I had a very specific image of what character I had in mind while writing. To me, reader fic is more of a sort of play acting rather than "oh that's literally me" but I know that's not everybody's cup of tea. A lot of this is cope fic and it shows. When times get rough the porn gets rougher, right?

I had help writing this from an individual who is very dear to me. Flashbang wouldn't exist without her, especially since she was the one who gave me the clown brain rot. And then there has been the hours of brainstorming and spitballing and watching Jeff Ward shows/movies as she continued to feed my addiction. Thank you, my love, and also damn you because this wasn't what I needed.

New chapter every Sunday. Enjoy~

“Let me put myself in your shoes

As a puppet loosely strung

Around you, they were so confused

That a faulty man could have so much fun”

All it took was a little doubt. Through logic or confusion or wishful thinking, you could be convinced that the insignificant person who had parasitically driven you around for the past however many years was a stranger, and now they were gone. Everything that had ever happened fell into incomprehensible dust, and every thought you ever had belonged to somebody else. A cycle of a million memories you didn’t recognize spun through this foggy place, none of them real, none of them familiar.

Logic, confusion, wishful thinking, or unconsciousness. An endless dream of nothing at all. But as soon as you became aware, it was awareness that those thoughts happened in the past tense, crushed inward by the unrelenting force of existence, and you were shoved back into a body. You—not the real you, the stranger you, the one made of heat and fury and pain, the one you couldn’t recognize—were gasping and thrashing in ignorant confusion, coughing out the sickening taste of blood in your throat.

Everything, all of it, hurt. And that was all that existed.

Until it wasn’t.

Your panicked thrashing made you realize that you were upright, your body straining painfully against the various chains keeping you pinned against the wall in an X. The position put nearly all of your weight on your shoulders and left your head to sag heavily to the side, making the terrible, dizzying headache that much worse. Having suffered more than your fair share of them, you knew that this headache was from more than an uncomfortable position or your old injury. A hot throbbing pain radiated out from the back of your head, shooting little sparks down your spine. It hurt bad enough that nausea formed a tight, heavy ball in your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you forced your eye open, fighting the urge to cringe away from the light as it rolled this way and that. Colors and lights were nothing more than a nauseating smear, but at least you could see.

Little by little, you became aware of yourself. From far away, you had a vague recollection of leaving, of nerves, excitement, and then of danger. But… no, why weren’t you at home? Doom settled in its rightful place as you realized exactly how little you remembered or knew, slotting into the spot of coherence and reason. Despite the pain, you fought against the shackles holding you in the uncomfortable position, irrationally desperate to be free of them.

“There she is! Finally,” somebody said from your left. His voice hit like a hammer to the back of your aching head. You strained to look at the speaker, he sounded close, but you couldn’t turn your head far enough to make up for your limited vision.

Luckily, he didn’t stay out of sight for long. The man’s boots were loud and deliberate as he slowly moved out of your literal blind spot. To your ill-adjusting eye, he was not much more than a blur of white and red and blue, his big smile smudged as you rapidly blinked to focus. A little shock of meaningless recognition in your brain saw the makeup and red nose and said ‘clown’, but the sheer ridiculousness of that made you even more sure that this wasn’t real.

“Not a fun way to wake up, is it?” he asked. “Keep breathing, let it drain back and cough it out. Trust me, it’s over quicker that way.”

The question you tried to form was, “Who are you?” but all you could manage was a heavy groan followed by a fit of painful coughs, wheezing raggedly in between. Each desperate convulsion rattled the chains and caused the wood to creak, but did nothing to free your bound limbs. The man seemed bored by it, annoyed he had to wait for you to get ahold of yourself.

Since he hadn’t immediately helped you down, you could only assume that he was the one who shackled you in the first place. Strung you up against a wooden board of some kind in a room you didn’t know. Cramped and windowless, it reeked of paint and sweat and sawdust and sweet salty rot—a unique smell that didn’t help your nausea. Clutter stacked up against the walls. Dense, humid air pressed against you like a heavy coat, paradoxically chilling. Probably because of the fever burning beneath your skin, slicking you up with sweat, soaking into your clothes and the bandana you kept wrapped around your head over the left eye.

Breathe. You focused on your breathing. Panic wouldn’t help you.

“You done?” he asked. Without any other choices, you turned your head to shamefully wipe your face off on your sleeve before nodding. “Great. Well, now that you’re awake… Welcome!” He threw out his arms with the flamboyant manner of a showman with the greeting, but they wilted right after, his big smile dropping a bit. “Or, at least, that’s what I would say if you hadn’t let yourself in and stolen the opportunity from me.”

That was bad. Very, very bad. You jerked in an awkward, uncoordinated burst, physically reacting to the danger he presented.

“No, no, don’t leave on my account,” he said, waving his hands and getting closer as if to stop you. “Oh wait, you can’t! Hah! Yeah, ‘cause of the chains.” He smiled affably, like it was a harmless joke, standing close enough for his gloved fingers to skim along the chain wrapped around your neck. “I guess you’re not going anywhere, huh?”

You didn’t respond, barely daring to breathe when he was so close. Smiles and melodrama aside, his blue eyes were oddly dead, fixed on you without the slightest bit of humor. And then it finally came back to you, the vital thing that you should have known, that you would have known if you weren’t strung up and suffering such a crippling headache. The makeup, the nose, the hat—

“You’re,” you began to say, but your voice was hoarse and weak, you could barely get it out when he was looking at you so closely, so intently. You cleared your throat, wincing at the metallic taste. “You’re the-that pirate captain Buggy, like on the-the poster?” Right! The clown guy, the red-nosed pirate. You were looking for him. So this was… good, wasn’t it?

He gave you a flat look, clearly not sharing your weak enthusiasm. “Yes. I am that pirate captain. Buggy, the Genius Jester? The most feared pirate captain in all the East Blue?” He turned with a dramatic flick of his coat, messing with something that had to flash silver before you realized it was a knife. “The man destined to find the One Piece and become King of the Pirates. Yes. I am that pirate captain. And,” he paused, checking to make sure you were paying attention, “a very busy, very important man. I’ve got, oh, ten minutes or so for you to decide how this is gonna go. So let’s get straight to it.” He turned back, pointing the knife at you. “Who are you, and what are you after?”

The accusatory tone of his voice took you aback. “Nothing… I’m not anybody,” you stammered out. “And this… this isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

Buggy, to your surprise, relented after a second of considering your appeal, nodding understandingly.

There was no transition from his look of sympathy to raising the knife and aiming it at you. By the time you realized he meant to throw it, you barely had a chance to yelp. The blade took a loud, thumping bite into the wood beside you. On your left side, of course. Where you couldn’t see it. You could feel it, though. The air displacement ruffled the fine hairs around your ear. If you had flinched in that direction, it probably would be in your skull. With your dizzy head aching and confused, you had no regulation to your fear or discomfort, your breathing dangerously unsteady and tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

“Let me try a different question,” Buggy said before you could collect yourself, pulling out another knife. “Who else knows about this place?”

“Nobody! I swear, nobody else. I was just…” You didn’t know what to say. It was all you could do to breathe the thick, heavy air and fight down the tide of nausea.

“Just what?” Buggy asked, leaning in with raised eyebrows to show that he was listening intently. You opened and closed your mouth, unable to come up with the right words. Thoughts churned through the thick sludge in your head, getting stuck or lost or confused.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, the stumbling apology coming out more naturally than anything else, an attempt to buy time while you organized your thoughts. “Please doh-don’t…. I’m so ss-sorry.”

Buggy sighed, standing up straight and raising his hand to aim.

“Nonono, please d-” You yelped louder this time, flinching away as the knife streaked through the air and stuck not even an inch away from your right cheek. You exhaled a pathetic little sob, whatever you were bound to shaking with your body.

“Listen, honey buns,” Buggy said. “Drop the act. Stop the whining. I caught you, red handed, sneaking into my lair.” He pulled something out of his pocket. Not another knife, but a piece of paper which he unfolded, holding it up for you to see. His wanted poster, creased into sixths from the way you folded it to keep it close, to keep it hidden. “I found this in your bag. You know who I am, and you know where you are. You have to, so let’s do away with all the theatrics, okay?”

You swallowed hard, nodding quickly in the hope that it would appease him.

“Right now, this is a conversation,” Buggy said, gesturing between the two of you. “A light interrogation, really. But if you keep being uncooperative and wasting my time, it’s gonna go from being interrogate-y to being torture-y real quick. You don’t want that, right?” Although he was unmistakably threatening you, Buggy’s tone was more natural than before. There was a bluntness to it, an honesty. Men like him didn’t idly use words like torture.

You sniffed, trying very hard to calm yourself down. This was a misunderstanding, so you just had to convince him. Simple as that. He would understand. You would make him understand.

“Right,” you agreed.

“Fantastic. So,” he loudly clapped his hands together, “who else knows about this place?”

“Nobody, I promise… I’m really sorry I broke in,” you told him, speaking slowly so your words didn’t catch. “I just wanted to meet with you.”

Buggy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, the hair hanging out from the sides of his hat swaying as his head tilted curiously. “You’re a fan?” he clarified. “That explains why you’re so pathetic. Well I hate to break it to you, but there’s a reason I only hold meet and greets after shows.”

“No, that’s not why! I-I want to join your crew,” you said. “I came to ask you to let me join your crew.”

He blinked twice, staring at you with obvious disbelief. “Excuse me, what?”

“I want to be a pirate,” you told him, louder. “Please. Please let me join your crew.”

Buggy’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the rippling shift of incredulity, befuddlement, skepticism, and then amusement in his eyes. That emotion burst outward into a loud laugh, making you flinch. “That’s the best you can do?” he asked. “Ask to join my crew?” He looked at you again, laughing even harder. “I don’t know what’s funnier—that anybody would send you to spy on me, or that you’d think I would consider hiring you.”

“I mean it!” you argued, humiliation and desperation seeping into the thousand other discomforts of your position. This wasn’t at all how you wanted this to go.

“Sweetheart,” Buggy said condescendingly, “even assuming I believe you, this is a pirate crew, not an afterschool club.”

“I know. I know what pirates do, I know what you do,” you told him. “I’ll do anything, whatever you want. Please, please, just give me a chance.”

He nodded, turning to pace as he thought about it.

“Okay, let’s say that I buy this… this act of yours,” Buggy said. “Do you have any experience? Maintaining ships, reading maps, loading cannons. You know, basic stuff.”

There was a line you had prepared to answer this question, one that would paint you in the most charitable light. You remembered that, but you couldn’t remember the line. All you could give was the truth. “A little.”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Thought so. What about specialties? Unique skills? Any sort of talent that I can use in my show—anything at all. I mean other than,” he gestured vaguely in your direction, “that. We don’t need another one eyed midget. They’re surprisingly common.”

“I’m not a midget,” you told him, nerves fading to incredulity.

Buggy stepped back to size you up before seemingly conceding the point with a shrug. “And the eye?” He covered his left eye to illustrate. “Is that for a bit or something?”

Your stomach twisted with a familiar lurch. Disgust. Shame. Phantom light in the dark. “It’s not.”

“How’d you lose it?”

“I didn’t… lose it.”

“It’s still in there?” he asked excitedly, stepping forward and reaching to remove the bandana. “I have got to see this.”

“No, please—please don’t,” you begged, trying to wriggle away from his hand. Pinned to the board with your hands bound above your head, there was nowhere to go. “Please don’t, please-”

“Come on,” Buggy said, indifferent to your pleas as he pulled the sweat soaked fabric off of your left eye. “How bad could it be—AH!” He yelled in horror, jumping away as if you’d bitten him.

The bandana hit the floor, leaving your ruined eye and its jagged scar exposed. You couldn’t hide. All you could do was flinch back, turning your head away. “I’m sorry,” you said, ready to continue apologizing before you realized that his shock had immediately dissolved into raucous laughter. “Why are you… why are you laughing?” you asked, pulling desperately against the chains.

“I got you good,” Buggy said, his laughter subsiding. “The way you reacted, I thought that you’d be completely deformed. A real sideshow. But this…” He grabbed your chin, forcing it to the side so he could get a better look. “I couldn’t charge for this.”

“Please stop,” you begged, shaking off his grip and staring hard at his shoulder.

“Ohhh. You’re really embarrassed about it.”

You didn’t say anything, focusing mostly on fighting the tears.

“Okay, alright, yeah,” Buggy said, stepping back. “I think I’m starting to get why you would risk life and limb to beg me for a job. You grew up as a cute girl in a shithole town like this. A big fish in a little pond, as they say. Then, suddenly, BAM, you’re deformed, and, sure, they all say that it was tragic, but the truth is that they can’t stand to look at you. Even the people who loved you, the people you trusted, think you’re a freak. They abandoned you. So, without any other options, you come to me, pleading for me to give you a place amidst your fellow freaks. That about it?”

You didn’t say anything—what could you say to that?— which Buggy seemed to take as confirmation, nodding thoughtfully.

“Well, go big or go home, right? As far as a starlet’s breakout role, you couldn’t go any bigger. Thing is, I’m not really looking for new acts. Not to mention your abysmal audition.” He sucked in a breath through his teeth, looking you up and down again.

You could feel your chance slipping away. Just like that. Go big or go home, that’s what he said.

“Please, Captain Buggy,” you begged, staring him in the eye despite how disquieting it was, despite how your skin crawled from exposing your left eye to somebody. Addressing him properly, at the very least, got his attention. “I promise that you won’t regret it. I’ll learn, I want to learn how to be a pirate, how to perform, all of it, everything. And if I can’t, I’ll do laundry and clean and cook, I have lots of experience with that. I don’t care what you ask me to do, if you let me join your crew, I’ll happily serve you for the rest of my life.”

Buggy didn’t respond right away. You thought—hoped—that it meant he understood how serious you were, but his expression gave you nothing. There wasn’t much light in the room in the first place, but somehow he found enough to shine unnervingly in his pale blue eyes. Somebody with a bright red clown nose shouldn’t have been able to look so intimidating, but the way he studied you burned with an uncomfortable intensity. It had been a while since anybody looked at you so frankly, so openly, without disgust or pity.

“Why?” he finally asked.

“Why…?” you repeated, confused.

“I get that you want to leave this place, and I even buy into your whole wanting to be a pirate thing, but, you know, aside from the obvious,” he gestured to himself, “why should I believe that you really want to serve me? You’re young and cute…ish, don’t you want freedom and empowerment and all those other things girls go on and on about?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why would I?”

A moment of quiet that wasn’t quite silence but twice as heavy passed before a slow smile began to spread over Buggy’s face, and then—of all the bizarre, uncomfortable responses he could have—he laughed. “Oh, you’re broken, aren’t you?” he asked, clearly overjoyed by the revelation. “Well, I’m sold. I’ll have to start you on probation just in case you’re secretly up to no good. But, after that, you can audition for real. I’m sure I can find something you’ll be useful for.”

His reaction gave you whiplash. The word ‘broken’ was obviously bad, but everything else was good. You had succeeded. Only, you didn’t know why. You were still trying to decide if being called cute-ish was a compliment or not.

“Hey, just one more thing, okay?” Buggy asked, tapping your cheek. Standing mere inches away, he smiled a rictus grin. It wrinkled his eyes, but they were without life or pity or mercy. “If you’re lying to me about anything, I’ll carve some symmetry into your cute little face. You’ll thank me for it too. You won’t want to see what the guys will do to you after I toss you out there.”

“I’m not lying,” you said softly, shrinking back. “I promise.”

“Great!” Buggy said, his demeanor immediately cheering up. “Let’s get you down.” He walked behind the board you were strung up on, and you let out a shaky exhale. “Brace yourself,” he called. You had no idea what that meant, or how you were supposed to brace yourself when there was nothing for you to brace yourself on. “Three… two…”

He undid the lock, and the chains keeping you bound to the board went slack. You dropped hard, your limbs as heavy as lead. Luckily, your head was too light to feel anything when you hit the ground with a dull thump and the loud cacophony of rattling chains, spinning and blank and utterly empty. There was a suspended moment of floating, lighter than air itself. And then you were blinking rapidly and nauseous, pain shooting up your arms and knees.

Buggy dropped a key in front of you, metal bouncing on the old concrete.

“Unfortunately we didn’t bring any real props with us, so I had to improvise,” he said. With numb fingers, you grabbed the key and worked it into the locked cuff around your wrist. “You lucked out, if this were the real Wheel of Death, you’d be blowing chunks!” He paused, looking down at you. “Can you hurry this up?”

“Sorry,” you said. Your shaking hands kept missing the keyholes, but you finally got the last lock on your ankle open. The cuffs hadn’t broken skin, but your wrists and ankles were rubbed raw, ugly bruises already developing. You’d had worse.

“Alright, upsy daisy,” Buggy said, crouching down to take the key away and grab the only chain you hadn’t gotten out of—the one around your neck.

It acted as a noose, giving you no other choice but to lurch upward with an unappealing choking sound, your head spinning all over again, the weightless itch tingling all the way down to the base of your spine. You stumbled forward, unintentionally falling against him.

“Holy shit,” Buggy exclaimed, helping you stand up straight with a hand on your shoulder. “I didn’t know girls came in fun size. Legally, at least. Are you sure you’re not just like… the maxiest midget?”

“‘m dizzy,” you muttered, swaying despite his support.

“That’s not really… Ah, whatever. Hey, at least if you fall, you don’t have that far to go.”

“I’m… I’m okay,” you finally said, which was mostly true. Breathing slow, steady breaths helped, and then you shook your head a little. The bump on the back of it throbbed painfully, and you’d have bruises on your knees the size of apples, but you would survive. You were still trying to get control over your body. It was heavy and unwieldy, although part of that must have been the exhaustion.

“If you need to vomit, make sure to aim away from me,” he said. That was about all the warning you got before he decided it was time to go, dragging you along behind him like a dog on a leash.

You realized you were leaving your bandana behind, your left eye uncovered, and reared back, trying to stop him. “Wait, I have to grab my-”

“No time,” he said, talking over you and tugging again at the chain.

There was nothing you could do but stumble over your own feet to keep up with him as he led you through the cluttered and dark storage area. You felt a tiny bit of relief that you were still in the familiar decaying buildings northside. The old warehouses were dark, dank, and dingy. Easily defended and difficult to navigate, perfect for criminals to hide out in. You knew them very well, and that helped orient you.

"As I’m sure you noticed, I’m running a bit of a skeleton crew here. The rest aren’t coming ‘til the grand finale,” Buggy said, leading you into the main warehouse space by the chain around your neck like it was completely normal. The awful smell of rot and decay was only compounded by a sickly sweet, chalky scent you didn’t recognize. Gray sunshine flooded in through the broken windows around the high ceilings, piercingly bright. “And after that, we’re gonna blow this town.”

You didn’t respond, growing even more skittish. The two of you drew the attention of the people scattered around. Some were lounging, others were training. All of them turned to look at you, watching with the dark, focused stare of hungry dogs. Colorfully dressed, very dangerous dogs.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have an introduction to make!” Buggy called in a loud enough voice to fill the large space. “Crew, new girl. New girl, crew. Make sure to give her a nice, warm welcome." None of them spoke or reacted, watching you with varying degrees of hostility. Buggy pulled you forward a few steps so he could whisper to you. “See that guy?” he asked, pointing to a bald man with square features and an especially dark glare. “That’s Ivo. He was the one who caught you. To be completely honest, I think he’s still a little angry that he didn't get to keep you. If I were you, I’d try to stay on his good side.”

“How?” you asked, your uneasy stomach sinking further, but Buggy was already preoccupied with something else.

“Oh, hey-” he called, flagging down a woman who was leaning against one of the steel supports. You stumbled behind him, holding the chain around your neck to ease the pressure. “Crina, I have got a very important job for you.”

The woman slowly looked from Buggy to you, giving you a weighty once-over with dark, kohl-lined eyes. Her clothes were different from the rest, draped with beads and loose and layered in shades of purple. Beneath the mystique, however, you felt the same hardness you recognized in all the pirate’s faces. “You want me to look after the little rat,” she said with an accent you didn’t recognize.

"God, it’s like you can read minds or something,” Buggy said, laughing. “Anyway, yes. Make sure she doesn’t get up to anything naughty while I’m gone. In fact, don’t let her out of your sight.”

“With all due respect,” Crina said, “why not just kill her?”

“Because I don’t want her dead,” Buggy snapped, suddenly irritated. If Crina was surprised or off put by the abrupt change of his mood, she didn’t show it.

“Of course, captain.”

“I thought I saw some cages over there,” Buggy said, gesturing vaguely and forcing the chain into Crina’s hand. “Stick her in one of those. In the back, away from any prying eyes.”

“A cage?” you asked.

“As fun as it is to see you all chained up,” Buggy said. “I worry that it might send the wrong message. Out of sight, out of mind—I don’t need you distracting my crew. They’re planning a very big surprise party. If you behave, I might be able to find some time for you later. Sound good?”

You nodded, almost surprised by how good that sounded. He ruffled your hair before turning away, barking orders to some of the men.

“Let’s go,” Crina said, pulling your attention back to her. “We have our orders.”

The cage Crina put you in, one out of several bolted to the floor in the corner out of the way from the main space, had just enough room for you to sit slouched, or lay curled on your side, meant for big dogs or small humans. There was a market for both, and you knew that this warehouse had likely housed both.

The old, dilapidated buildings had been out of use for a long time, as long as you could remember. Barley Village had been originally built to be close to the mineral deposits, but as those dried up and industry trended towards the water, southward expansion left all of the old buildings empty and rotting. There was always talk about tearing them down, but it was only ever talk. One time you were told that some people wanted to keep the buildings available to people who wished for some privacy. But when you asked your dad if that was true, he got angry, telling you that was a lie, that he would never let that happen. He said it would just be too expensive to take them down, and that there was really no point in it.

But he also told you to never, ever spend time northside. Of all of the rules he gave you, that was the only one you ever truly disobeyed. You had no idea how many times you had gotten in trouble for playing here, climbing up rusted stairs and crossing the support beams up by the ceiling, using rocks to knock out the jagged edges of broken glass from the windows so you could go onto the rooftops. Your health problems made it difficult, and sometimes impossible, but you were patient. Plus, that had been before the accident, when your coordination was still good.

Back then, you didn’t worry about the many dangers that lurked here, and you certainly didn’t believe you could be hurt. You were too entranced by the world you created for yourself. The only thing you worried about was the beatings you earned when you got caught. Dad used to tell you that if you kept disobeying him by going northside, you’d wind up locked in one of these cages—or worse. It took you a while to think of the word, because it wasn’t funny, but it also was. Ironic. It was ironic.

You couldn’t even imagine what kind of reaction he would have to what you had done now, what punishment you would earn. It would be bad. You knew it would be very bad.

Better not to think about it. Falling unconscious after being hit on the head was the most you had slept for the previous two days. It was the level of exhaustion that you could be staring down the business end of a sword with indifferent, sleepy eyes. Being locked up was bad, very bad, but you were content to lay listlessly on your side.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep because you weren’t entirely conscious when somebody kicked the front of your cage. “Hey, wake up.” Your physical response was to startle, jolting you awake enough to flinch away from the violence. But it was only Crina who crouched in front of the cage. “I have food for you. And medicine for the headache. I’m going let you out, and I suggest you don’t try to run. If the guys get a hold of you, I won’t stop them.”

“I won’t run,” you told her, your voice hoarse, your eyes fixed on what she had brought. A bowl of something that looked like stew and a bottle. More than food, you wanted water. Crina undid the lock and you shuffled out of the cage. Your head spun just as badly as it had when you dropped onto the floor earlier, your vision crawling with darkness and stomach heaving unhappily. She was right about the headache. It wasn’t a pain you ever got used to, no matter how many days you spent laid out from one. After an uneasy moment, you sat on the floor, grabbing the water and eagerly uncapping it.

“Hand,” Crina said, holding out a glass bottle. You allowed her to shake two capsules into your palm, tossing them into your mouth before taking in a blessedly wet mouthful of water. It soothed your tongue and throat like a salve, although you knew your stomach wouldn’t be quite so happy to receive anything. The stew’s scent alone made your stomach clench and churn with equal parts hunger and nausea. Slow. You had to take it slow.

“Thank you,” you told her, picking up the bowl. She’d brought a wrapped sailor’s biscuit to eat it with. Not very appetizing, but you hadn’t eaten much more than you slept. It could have been saw dust and you would have been grateful.

“I have your bag,” she said to fill the silence as you ate, pushing the limp canvas towards you. “They took anything that looked valuable, but your clothes are all there. They need to be washed. I’ll lend you something to wear in the meantime.”

Since your mouth was full, you nodded your thanks.

“While you eat, I’m going to talk. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Crina said. “You don’t strike me as the talkative type.”

She didn’t say that in an accusatory tone, but it still caused your heart to skip with anxiety. The fear had to be irrational, it wasn’t as if you had lied to Captain Buggy, so what did you have to worry about? Besides, only the guilty feared scrutiny, that was a favored line of your dad’s.

“There’s a man in town asking if anyone has seen a girl. Petite. Missing an eye. Mentally unwell. He’s concerned that she might have gotten lost somewhere,” Crina told you. “From what I gather, her father is a pillar of the community. They’re all very worried.”

You averted your gaze, anxiously pulling your hair to cover your left eye. Of course Randall would be looking for you, although you had hoped you would have more time before he noticed your absence. It didn’t matter that you left in such a way to raise as little suspicion as possible, or that you were an adult, or that you didn’t want to be found. Your dad asked him to be your keeper while he was gone, and Randall did as your father said. Everybody did.

“Finish your food,” Crina prompted. “It’s worse when it’s cold.”

Right. You started eating again, your movements mechanical. She said nothing, and you had nothing to say.

“Everybody has their reasons for turning to piracy, and they’re not always pleasant,” Crina suddenly said. “Unless it interferes with my own business, I don’t care about who you were and why you ran away. It was a stupid choice, I think you know that. I won’t try and convince you to leave. Buggy seems to like you, so you wouldn’t be able to go anyway. But you need to understand that there will be consequences. The life you had before, no matter how terrible, did not prepare you for the life you’ve thrown yourself into.”

You stared hard at the bowl, thinking about that. It was true, you had to accept that you had blindly stumbled into a world you knew nothing about. But what choice did you have? The things that led you to this point were arranged like the rusty, creaky rungs of a ladder scaling the side of a building. Climbing up had always been the easy part, it was the inevitable descent that gave you trouble. You had to go slow, one rung at a time, blindly feeling with your toes, holding on with sweaty fingers, not looking up and not looking down because once you were on the ladder, you could only keep going. The first rung was spotting the Buggy Pirates, which you only did because you were sulking around the docks after seeing your father off on his trip. You only recognized the crew because your dad kept track of pirate captains with significant bounties. You only had the courage to sneak away from your house because dad was too far away to stop you. You only had the ability to scope out Buggy’s temporary hideout because of how much time you spent northside when you were younger. Those things all connected and followed so naturally and you didn’t know if fate existed, but you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t have wound up here on your own volition. It wasn’t a choice you made, it was the only way to get down from the roof that you had been stranded on for so long.

“I’ll give you some advice,” Crina continued, her tone lighter, “and I suggest you listen. You’re young and pretty, and you wouldn’t be the first to try and use that to get an advantage. It might work for a while, but men will get bored and your looks will fade. Before long you’ll be spat out into a cheap whorehouse with a couple of children you can’t afford and a hell of a rash.”

The whiplash from your thoughts to the conclusion she had drawn made your stomach twist with disgust. “No,” you said. Was that what she thought of you? Even if the idea was utterly ridiculous, shame rolled uncomfortable through you. “I would never—I could never ever do that.”

“Don’t be naive,” Crina said, rolling her eyes. “The boys you’re used to are disgusted by that scar, but the kind of men you’ll meet from now on won’t be. If your low self-esteem dictates who you let between your legs, you’ll find yourself in the gutter. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t sleep with men to get an advantage if that’s an option, only that you must be smart about it.”

You pulled your hair forward again, shaking your head clear of what she was saying. She didn’t understand. It wasn’t the assumption that men would be repulsed by your scar—which they would be, you knew that—but that you didn’t have it in you to invite or manipulate male attention. In so many ways you were already ruined, but to stoop down to letting other men touch you would be too far, it would destroy you.

“Assuming you live past tomorrow night,” Crina continued, “get a knife and figure out how to use it. The men aren’t going to accept you as a member of the crew until you prove yourself. So if anybody gets too close, you prove yourself with blood.”

“Do you think they’ll try to hurt me?”

“I think you look like an easy target,” she said. “And I know you have no concept of self preservation or defense.”

“Yes, I do,” you said, frowning. You had made it this far, after all. That was more than anybody would have thought of you.

“You don’t,” she said plainly. “The tablets I gave you are for treating pain, but imagine if they weren’t. You didn’t so much as ask me to clarify what they were.”

You opened your mouth to argue, and closed it, shame squeezing your throat. You hadn’t even thought about that.

“It might not matter anyway,” she said, “depending on Buggy’s reasons for keeping you.”

“What do you mean?”

Crina gave you a long, pitying look and you could tell there was something she wanted to say, something she was holding back. Eventually she shrugged. “That is between the two of you.”

You wanted to push for more, confused by the cryptic answer, but you didn’t. You could tell by the hard look on her face that she wouldn’t tell you anyway.

“One more thing. The most important thing,” Crina told you, leaning close so she could whisper. “Never, ever mention the captain’s nose. In fact, never mention noses at all.”

“His nose?” you repeated softly. “Is it… is it real?”

“What did I just say?” she asked sharply. “He killed a few of the last new recruits for saying something that sounded like nose while he was in a bad mood.”

“He… killed them?” you asked.

“Buggy is a very temperamental man,” she said, leaning back. “Try not to get on his bad side.”

“It sounds like you don’t like him.”

“I do, actually. God knows why. Are you finished?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Come on then,” Crina told you, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. “There’s running water on the other side. I’ll keep watch so you can clean up.”

Although birds called and the breeze carried all sorts of noises from Barley Village, none of it really reached the northside. A solemn graveyard hush settled heavy between the wreckage of ruined buildings, drafty even in broad daylight. No ghosts hid in the shadows, no historical tragedy marred its name, but there remained the haunted imprint of people who were no longer around.

Before setting you on your task of the day, Crina had given you a dress of hers to wear while your own clothes dried in the sun. You swam in it, but a sash at the waist made the fit look somewhat intentional and the long sleeves hid the ugly bruises cuffing your wrists. That, combined with having slept the previous night and most of the day, left you feeling oddly refreshed. Sure, all of the sleep had been in a cage and the only ‘bath’ you had was a couple of minutes alone with a spout that spat freezing water and a washcloth, but it was better than yesterday. Better than the day before that too, save for the bruises and big goose egg bump on the back of your head.

Despite the headache, you were glad to be given something to do. The task wasn’t difficult. Busywork that kept you out of the way. Checking to ensure that everything which would be loaded on the ship was documented, organized, and ready for transport. It wasn’t entirely unlike what you had done in the past and, you imagined, would be doing in the future. It was, however, the opposite way around. The goods were obviously looted, you were creating a list to know exactly what and how much of it had been stolen.

Vinegar, oil, wax.

You used the end of the pen to scratch beneath your bandana, which Crina had kindly retrieved for you. Sometimes the scar got itchy, like it had when it was healing.

Twine, needles, thread.

There was a particular smell to supply crates like these. Something to do with the place they were stored, or where they were made. Even now, years since you had been on a ship, it was overwhelmingly familiar. It made your stomach ache and chest clench, although you weren’t sure which quality of the scent was so unsettling.

You scratched the scar again.

Vinegar, oil-

Wait, you had already done that. Annoyed, you crossed out those words and crouched down to get into the next crate. Rope. It was coiled in tight loops like a huge snake, coarse beneath your fingers. Anything that was strong enough to endure the fury of the sea had to be coarse. Good rope was vital on a ship, you knew that even with your limited experience. Touching it reminded you of the time your dad tried to show you how to tie knots, and then subsequently had to treat your rope burn.

What would he think when he returned? Retired Marine or not, he was deeply involved with northside business and law. Missing supplies, missing daughter. Sometimes you felt an acidic sort of pleasure when imagining his reaction to your absence, but usually it was just dread.

Or worse. Prickling paranoia. You could run, for a time. But that was all it was. Running. He used to be a Marine, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find you. When you were younger, the thought gave you comfort.

But you didn’t want to think about that. Not at all. Not ever again. You stared very hard at the rope, desperate to put those thoughts out of your mind.

You stared and stared and stared and-

Somebody grabbed you around the bicep, dragging you to your feet and forcing you back to reality. Yelping in fear, you were nearly knocked back down from the bloodrush dizziness of standing up too fast, saved only by the crates.

“Good god, girl,” the unfamiliar man said, taking a step back, clearly put off by your reaction. “Are you deaf or something? I hollered at you three or four times. Were you sleeping?”

Putting a hand to your racing heart, you looked from him to the still open crate and the notepad you had abandoned mid-task. You had no idea how long you had been sitting there. Long enough for your foot to go numb, prickling with pins and needles now that you were standing up.

“I’m sorry,” you told him.

“The captain wants to see you. It’s urgent,” he said. When you didn’t immediately respond, still orienting yourself, he sighed impatiently and grabbed your elbow, physically dragging you away. You stumbled to keep up, trying very hard to avoid falling. “If Buggy asks why you took so long, you better tell him it was your fault.”

“I will,” you said to appease him, attempting to shake off his hand before realizing that it was pointless. “Please slow down.”

“Not my fault you’ve got stumpy legs,” he said. “Keep up.”

The unfairness of that stung, but you didn’t have much choice. You had a feeling that he’d keep on pulling you along even if it meant dragging you across the ground.

“Where are we going?” you asked, embarrassingly out of breath.

“There,” he said, nodding to one of the waterfront buildings. At least it was close. You never strayed so close to the water, the buildings were too squat to make for fun exploration and too exposed to give cover.

The pirate released you when you got to the door, leaving you winded and scared. You adjusted your bandana and tried to catch your breath. “Don’t forget to tell him it was your fault it took so long, not mine,” he said, opening the door.

“I won’t,” you promised, the words papery thin on your dry tongue.

You were in trouble. You had no idea what you might have done, but there had to be something. Why would you be summoned like this otherwise? A very bad feeling pressed against your sternum, but you forced yourself to walk forward. The door shut behind you. Inside, the air was dark and cool and wet, sending a little shiver down your spine.

Buggy stood in the middle of the room, the only place where the sun found its way between the mangled teeth of glass and steel that used to be windows, his own little spotlight amidst the ruins. There were three other men on the edges of the light, their backs to you. One of them was bound. You did not like this.

“There she is!” Buggy exclaimed, inviting you forward with his arms spread wide. “Come on, don’t be shy. Especially not after keeping us waiting so long. Your friend over here could hardly handle the suspense.

Rocks and broken glass crunched beneath your feet as you approached them. Once you got close enough, finally, you could see the faces of the other men. One was the square-featured, angry man Buggy called Ivo. Another, a man you didn’t know. And the third, the one bound with a busted lip and developing black eye—

Randall called your name, trying to escape and rush to your side. Ivo grabbed him, pressing the blade of his knife against his throat.

“See, I told you, they’re working together,” Ivo said, glaring at you. “She tipped him off. No doubt this place will be swarming with the law before long.”

You stood completely still, staring at Randall with the steadily rising tide of panic sloshing in your stomach. After everything you had done to misdirect him, the note you left to beg he didn’t follow, the trouble you had put yourself through to keep from being seen, he was still here.

“Are you okay?” Randall asked, looking you up and down frantically, concerned in a way he never had looked before. “Did they hurt you?”

“I told you, she’s fine,” Buggy said with a grin. “I mean, yeah, Ivo over there did give her a little knock on the ole noggin—a love tap, really—but the eye was already like that when we found her.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Randall said, glaring at Buggy.

“Shut up,” Ivo said, pressing the knife close enough to Randall’s throat that it broke skin.

“No, no, let him go,” Buggy ordered casually, waving his hand. “He’s not gonna do anything stupid.” He threw an arm around your shoulder. “Not when I’ve got her.”

Ivo reluctantly complied, releasing Randall. He watched you intently, and you knew what he was thinking. How could he save you?

“Ivo over there thinks that the two of you are working together,” Buggy told you, smiling. His arm was heavy around your shoulders, oppressively so. “He thinks that we should kill you both.”

“I’m not—I wouldn’t,” you told him.

“And see, I wanna believe you. I really do. But he’s not talking, and,” Buggy ran his finger over your right cheek, reminding you of his threat from yesterday, “I’m starting to worry you’ve been lying to me.”

“I’m not,” you said, ice cold dread dripping into your veins a drop at a time. You fought your discomfort and forced yourself to meet his eyes, hoping he could see your sincerity. “I promise I’m not.”

“Then how did he find this place?”

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“She used to hide here when we were kids,” Randall answered. “I thought she ran away, not that you freaks had kidnapped her. If I had known I’d find pirates here, I would have come armed.”

“Is that true?” Buggy asked you, pulling you even closer. Close enough to be embarrassing, to give the wrong impression, especially when he was stroking your cheek with a sort of affection that didn’t mesh with the danger in his blue eyes.

“I told you it is. Let her go, clown!” Randall shouted. His voice was loud enough to echo, and harsh enough to make you wince. That sort of rage wasn’t one you expected from him, but it was familiar all the same.

“Oh, wow,” Buggy said with a laugh, looking up at him. “Is that jealousy I hear? She didn’t tell me she was leaving behind a boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said softly, your insides twisting at the thought.

“Really?” Buggy asked. He shrugged, and looked at Randall. “If you’re not doing this because you want to have sex with her, why are you here?”

“I am a dear friend—both to her and her dad,” Randall answered. “He asked me to look after her because she… She’s not in a sound state of mind. And she’s the only family he has left. Without her, he’ll have nothing.” He grit his teeth. “Take me, kill me if you’re that thirsty for blood, but let her go. Please.”

“You’re a real knight in shining armor. Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but she came here all on her own,” Buggy said, releasing you to approach him instead. “She begged to join my crew, got down on her knees and told me that she would be happy to serve me for the rest of her life. It was the most adorable thing.”

“No,” Randall said, his face twisting with disgust. “You’re lying. She wouldn’t do that.”

“Ask her yourself,” Buggy invited, stepping aside and sweeping out his arm. All eyes landed on you like a spotlight. Blood rushed in your ears, and you felt dizzy with it, ready to pass out on the spot. When you looked at Buggy, he smiled and nodded encouragingly.

“It’s true,” you said.

“No. That is impossible,” Randall said. “This is insane. You are mad, you cannot make decisions like this for yourself.” You stared at his feet, your hands balled into fists. You were not crazy. You were not. That had to be true. “Whatever hysterics brought you here, give it up. These are pirates.”

“I’m a pirate too,” you declared, your hands forming fists at your sides. You weren’t crazy, or mad. You were thinking very clearly, more than you had in a while.

“No, you are your father’s daughter,” Randall insisted, loud enough to make you flinch. “Can you imagine the agony he would feel hearing you say that?”

Your breathing was too fast, rapid enough to make your head spin. You kept shaking your head, tears flying off of your cheek, but you couldn’t recall when you had begun to cry. “I don’t care.”

“Don’t care…? This bastard has already gotten into your head,” Randall said. “He has poisoned your broken mind with his lies and manipulations, please don’t let this go any further.”

You shook your head again, but there was nothing you could think of to say. You didn’t want to talk anymore, you just wanted this to be over.

“Believe me, as much as I would love to claim otherwise, I had nothing to do with this,” Buggy said, raising his hands innocently. “You’ve got no one to blame but yourself. Think about what would drive a girl like this into the arms of a pirate. A broken heart, maybe? Was that your doing, lover boy? Did you break her heart? Make her feel like she wasn’t good enough?”

“Keep your big goddamned nose out of our business, clown,” Randall said.

The other pirates audibly gasped, and you could feel the sudden zap of tension in the air. Buggy’s taunting smile froze in place, his posture icing over like a statue. And then, a second later, he was rushing at Randall, burying his fist in the other man’s stomach. Randall crumpled onto his knees with a heavy grunt and you waited for something else, something worse. Crina said that Buggy had killed over jokes about his nose, and, right then, you believed it.

Nothing happened. You watched, frozen, as Buggy breathed in deeply, his shoulders rising and falling with it, and then he raised a hand.

“New girl,” he called, snapping to beckon you closer. You obliged, rushing to his side. He didn’t look angry, not like you feared he would. Instead, he smiled. It was a mean smile, a frightening one. But a smile all the same. “Are you ready for your big moment?”

“What?”

“Your audition! I thought of the perfect act for you. Kill him.”

You looked down at Randall, he was clearly still in pain, his eyes watering as he looked up at you. “I can’t,” you whispered, shaking your head again.

“You can and will. Assuming you want to remain on my crew. Otherwise I’ll kill him and you’ll have to explain to daddy why prince charming was here in the first place.” He held out his hand towards Ivo. “Knife.” When he got it, Buggy flipped the knife handle first, holding it to you with a flourish. “You’re up, babydoll.”

“She won’t do it, clown,” Randall said through grit teeth.

“Of course she will,” Buggy said. “For me.”

As if moving through the dusky haze of a dream, you took the knife, wrapping your sweaty hand around the grip. The way Buggy smiled in response made your heart flutter, something to cling to amidst the horror and disgust. It didn’t feel real anymore. How could it be real?

“I don’t know what to do.” Were those your words? Your voice?

Buggy laughed. “Of course you don’t,” he said, circling behind Randall. “C’mere, I’ll help you.”

Randall was shouting and pleading, but Buggy had grabbed a fistfull of his hair to keep him from escaping.

“You’ve gotta hold him still,” Buggy told you. “Like this, see?”

“-don’t do this, please. You can’t… I love you!”

You got a fistful of Randall’s hair, making him cry out in pain. There was no pleasure in the sound, only a roiling sense of disgust. It would be better when he was dead, and then he wouldn’t be in pain.

“God you’re short,” Buggy said as he adjusted you into place, right between him and Randall. “You’ll be better off going for their ankles.” He wrapped his hand around yours, getting a good grip on the knife and holding it still.

“-when he gets bored of fucking you. That’s all pirates do, rape and murder. You’ll never be one of them, you’ll just-”

“Start on one side and move to the other, easy as that,” Buggy said comfortingly, resting his chin against the side of your head.

“-he doesn’t kill you, your dad will. Do you really think you’ll ever be able to hide from him?”

Moving slowly, through a dream, you put the knife on the left side of Randall’s neck. It was no different from what a butcher did, really.

Breath in. Pull. You instinctively locked up at the sound of Randall’s screams and the resistance of his flesh, but Buggy forced your hand, pulling the blade deep into his neck and then fast to the side. The knife got caught part way through, stuck in something hard. You tried to saw through it and Randall made an inhuman noise of agony. Buggy had to help you unstick it, to follow through until the knife slashed that horrifying scream short and then there was just a sort of gurgling sound and you didn’t know if it was because he was still alive or if it was an automatic process.

There was so much blood, and it was hot, burning you. For some reason, you hadn’t anticipated the messy scarlet spray. From the deep slice came more blood. More, and more still. Randall’s heavy, limp body dropped onto the floor into a puddle of it, although you weren’t sure when you let go of his hair. Buggy released your hand, but you didn’t drop the knife, holding it in a death grip as blood streamed like red veins down your hand and wrist, down the blade and all the way to its tip before dripping to the dirty floor. The tang of iron filled your lungs. You shook all over, all the way down inside, your bones and organs shivering. It was your heart. It pounded frantically, like butterfly wings. And your breathing. Wheezing, gasping, gurgling like Randall’s had before he fell.

Your mouth opened to exhale, but there was nothing there. No air, no words. Nothing. Your cold gaze turned to look at Buggy, confused as to what you were supposed to do next. He had led you this far, but now you were lost. He smiled, and laughed, and took the knife away from you, tossing it to the side where it clanged and slid away.

And then he folded you into his arms, your head pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was firm and steady, and he was so warm. He smelled of gunpowder and salty sea air and greasepaint and the natural warm scent of his skin. You clung to that, breathing in deep to excise the scent of blood.

“Congratulations, babydoll,” Buggy told you. “Looks like you just got the part.”

The first firecracker went off not long after the sun had gone down, kicking off the surprise party with an especially loud zip and then a bang and a bursting sizzle. “It’s a surprise party,” Buggy told you, his face illuminated by the flash of red. “As in, the people who live here are going to be so surprised by the party I’m throwing for my crew. Get it?”

A chain of firecrackers followed the first, a show that the pirates set off amidst a barrage of explosions, lighting up the sky with brilliant colors and smoke, making the earth tremble beneath your feet. They acted as distraction and lure, drawing people further into the town and inviting the ship that had been lurking nearby to enter the harbor.

And after that came the chaos.

Many things happened that you were aware of, if only passively. Leaving the northside and then Barley Village, waiting at the dock, and then boarding the ship as men and women in colorful attire flooded the yard, overtaking the few armed guards. You were told to sit on the deck and wait, so you did. Aware of it all—noxious sulfur and smoke filling the air, thunderous claps of explosives, popping gunshots, screaming voices, roaring fires—but uninvolved. There was a sense of great quiet. Not outside where things were loud and violent and scary, but inside. You were very quiet on the inside. Far away from everything and everyone else.

Blood flaked off of your skin, caking beneath the nails when you scratched your arm. It would have been nice to wash it off, but you didn’t know where you would go for that, and you didn’t want to get up.

“Yoo-hoo, is anybody in there?”

A gloved hand waved in front of your face.

You let out a hoarse scream, nearly tipping backwards from how violently you startled. It didn’t take long for you to realize how overblown the reaction was, Buggy’s laughter made the point quite clearly.

“What was that?” he asked, almost laughing too hard to get the words out. He stood above you without his coat and hat, although he kept the striped headscarf, and a bottle tucked under his arm.

“You scared me,” you told him, a hand on your racing heart.

“That noise you just made though,” he said, still laughing. “It sounded like one of those scream-y fireworks.”

“I didn’t know you were there.”

“Your fault, not mine. I was trying to talk to you, but you just sat there. I thought it was your eye that didn’t work, not your ears.”

“I guess I… zoned out a little.”

“No shit. Ah, that was good,” Buggy said as his laughter subsided. “I had no idea human beings could even make sounds like that.” Letting out a big breath to settle himself, he sat down next to you. Very close, far closer than you would have, almost touching. “Kinda makes me wonder what other kinds of sounds you can make.”

“I know, it’s annoying,” you said, staring hard at the deck. “I’m sorry.”

Buggy laughed at that too, shaking his head. “You really have no clue, do you?” he asked. “Is it weird that I’m into it?”

“Into what?” you asked. “I’m sorry, I… don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t, and that’s okay,” he said with a mocking sort of indulgence, patting your head. “Anyway, I had a little business in town and snagged this from some rich guy’s house.” He held up a bottle by the neck and swished its contents a little for effect. “We’re going to celebrate.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be out there?” you asked, the first coherent question that came to your mind as it scrambled to make sense of what he had just said.

“Between you and me, this,” Buggy said with a confidential hush, gesturing to your burning town, “isn’t my thing. It’s a reward for my freaks, gives ‘em an outlet to express themselves artistically. I prefer a more… performative platform. True art deserves a spotlight and an audience.” He waved that away, smiling. “But this isn’t about me, it’s about you.”

“Me?”

“You really impressed me earlier. I mean, yeah, your technique needs polish, and you’ve got no stage presence to speak of, but you displayed raw talent. I really think you have a shot at success, sweetheart. Stick with me, and I’ll make something out of you yet.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, shying away from thinking about earlier. The praise though, that was heady. That made you feel warm.

Buggy popped the cork off the bottle, taking a drink straight from it and smacking his lips appreciatively. “You like sweet things, right?”

“I-”

“You’ll love this then. Here, try it.”

You eyed the bottle he was proffering to you warily. Alcohol was something you were familiar with, but you could count on your fingers the number of times you had actually tasted it. “I don’t know…” you said, trying to think of ways to reject drinking without seeming ungrateful.

“You’re a pirate now, so you’ve gotta learn to drink like one,” Buggy told you, pushing it into your hand. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

You sniffed the open lip, surprised by the sweetness. It didn’t smell as strongly of alcohol as you feared. Not like what your father drank. Maybe it would be okay. Trying to avoid embarrassing yourself, you tipped the bottle back just like he had. That was a mistake. It didn’t smell like alcohol, but you could taste it—feel it, even. Panicked by your body’s natural response to expel it, you swallowed as much as you could, coughing out the rest. Red liquid drooled down your chin, staining the dress that was already ruined with dried blood. Buggy laughed. A little at first, and then a lot.

Flushing, you wiped your mouth.

“Oh, don’t be like that. That was hilarious,” Buggy told you. You looked away, even more embarrassed. “Your face was priceless. You threw that back with the confidence of a real fire-hazard, saggy skinned, dead eyed alcoholic. You were so serious about it too, and then… Good lord.”

“I didn’t know!” you said, trying and failing not to sound shrill.

“It’s okay, you’ve got me to help you now. Try it again, but don’t be so greedy. Baby sips.”

“No, thank you,” you said, holding the bottle back to him.

“Drink. That’s an order,” he said, pushing it back to you.

That gave you pause. “Do you mean that?” you asked.

He nodded, urging you on.

Your shoulders drooped in defeat. Trepidatiously, you took a small sip. At least you didn’t hack it back up this time. While the taste was sweet, the burn was not. It rose up like smoke into your head, you could feel it.

“What if I get drunk?” you asked.

“Oh, you’re going to get drunk, captain’s orders,” Buggy said with a grin. “I can’t stand watching you sit around moping about killing that guy. Besides, you’re a pirate now.”

The little ball of anxiety deep in your gut doubled. This was wrong, you knew it was. Or maybe you were wrong, and Buggy was right. You didn’t know.

“I don’t want to embarrass myself,” you muttered.

“As long as you don’t jump into the water or shit yourself, you’ll be fine…” You looked at him, horrified. “Joking! C’mon, I’ve taken good care of you so far, haven’t I? You’ll be fine.”

The way he laughed made you want to believe him. He was your captain now. You nodded seriously and, steeling yourself, took another drink. And another.

“See? It’s good, right?” Buggy asked, holding out his hand for the bottle.

You licked your lips, cleaning up the lingering sweetness. “It is. Thank you,” you said, unable to keep yourself from admiring the way his throat worked as he swallowed, the view unfortunately obscured by his cravat.

The perverse thought took you by surprise. Was it the alcohol? Already, your head was spinning, your thoughts a little more disorganized. It wasn’t like the quiet, empty feeling of before. It was warm and distant, it made your shoulders relax, the anxiety and uncertainty of before fading. This was a good idea, you already felt so much better. When he passed the bottle back, you didn’t have to be prompted to imbibe, chasing that feeling.

“I don’t mean to pry, but when that guy back there mentioned your dad, it really seemed to get to you,” Buggy said. “What, did daddy not love you? Or maybe he loved you a little too much.”

You didn’t want to talk about that. You didn’t want to think about it. You took another big drink.

On the horizon, the town was utterly ablaze. As the night grew darker, the flames rose higher. Which building was burning so brightly? It belched thick, black smoke into the night sky. Who was in it? Anybody you knew?

“Don’t wanna talk about it, hm? That’s fine,” Buggy said, stealing the bottle back. “With any luck, my freaks’ll kill him tonight, eh? Then you’ll really be free.”

“He’s gone right now,” you said, your words soft and slurring together. “Out of town.” What would he think of the smoldering ashes? Would he believe you had perished in the flame? Somehow, you doubted that. He would know what you had done. There was no chance of freedom, not for you.

“That’s even better,” Buggy said.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to him, both in confusion and disbelief. “How?”

“Because, babydoll,” Buggy told you, shaking your shoulder to make sure you were paying attention. “It’s good to have somebody to hate—somebody to prove wrong. He tried to convince you that you’re crazy, he tried to keep you from ever being yourself. That pain and anger made you weak. But you’re not weak anymore. Tonight, I showed you how to be strong. It’s not enough to tell those assholes that they’re wrong, you have to prove it to them. That’s what tonight was about, right? You proved to your dad, to everybody, that you’re stronger than they thought. And, hey, you proved it to me, too. I wasn’t sure about you at first, but I changed my mind.” He threw an arm around you, pulling you close. “I like you, kiddo. A lot.”

“I like you too,” you said, relaxing into the little side hug, very aware of every place his bare arm met your bare shoulders and neck. The alcohol had stoked a nice blaze in your stomach and chest, making your head spin in a way you didn’t mind that much. Smoothing the colors, softening the air, making you want to lean into his touch, made you crave more of it.

Buggy pulled away, leaving the bottle in your hands. You felt a little cold without him.

“You know,” he said, smiling at you. The far off flames glinted mischievously in his eyes. The flaring reds and oranges highlighted his cheekbones too, defined the sharpness of his jaw. You were caught off guard by how viscerally you reacted to the thought that he was handsome, your filterless mind caught in an endless loop of focusing on the fact. “Burning down this shithole is nothing compared to what I will do. The towns I’ll raze to the ground, the treasure I’ll steal, the shows I’ll put on. Now that I’ve got a crew, I’m gonna put on a show like nobody’s ever seen. The biggest, flashiest, greatest show ever. Everybody will be screaming my name, recognize my face. I’ll shine so bright that they’ll have no choice but to love me. ”

Buggy’s intensity made you smile, you couldn’t help it. Alcohol had created a cloudy burst of affection within you, or maybe it was just the floodgates of tension finally collapsing, letting out something that would have otherwise been smothered. Either way, it was as intoxicating as the drink itself.

“Are you laughing at me?” Buggy asked, his tone filled with steel. You looked to see his dark expression, his narrowed eyes.

“I’m not,” you said, confused by his rapid shift in demeanor. “I’m… I’m happy. I’ll do anything to help you.”

He relaxed. “Well, you’d better start working on your act.”

That made you laugh, a dizzy, bubbly sound. “I can’t do an act. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“There has to be something. Let me think… Can you sing?”

“I used to, a little. But not for a really long time.”

“Come on, let me hear it.”

You were drunk, you knew that for a fact because in no state of sobriety would you offer to sing in front of another person. But, right then, bubbling with alcohol and protected by the darkness of the smoky night sky, you felt invincible.

“Oh, what do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning? Slash his…um… something, something, captain’s daughter. Toss him in… to… the dirty water…” Whatever coherence you held onto unraveled into a fit of drunken laughter at the awful rhyme. “I’m sorry, I think… I think I forgot some of the words.”

“Seems like you forgot the tune too,” Buggy said, wincing dramatically. All that did was make you laugh harder. “Hold on a second, let me wipe the blood out of my ears.”

You swatted his shoulder, although your attempted indignance probably wasn’t very convincing when you were still smiling. “Don’t be mean!”

“That’s a bold way to treat your captain,” he told you, but he was smiling too.

“Please don’t be mean to me, Captain Buggy,” you said, speaking slowly to emphasize how serious you were.

“Beg me again.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, waving it off in a way that made you think he was making fun of you. “Anyway, I’m being nice right now, especially after that performance. The critics would eat you alive for that one. So, singing is out. Clearly. What else have you got?”

“Oh! I know a, um, a rhyme. A joke.”

He looked at you skeptically. “Really?”

“What is that s’posed to mean?” you asked.

“You don’t strike me as somebody with… How should I put this… A sense of humor?”

You frowned.

“Alright, alright, quit pouting and tell me,” Buggy said impatiently, waving you to continue.

You cleared your throat very theatrically, sitting up as straight as you could manage.

“There was a young lass who thought

Very little but thought it a lot.

Then at long last she knew

What she wanted to do,

But before she could start, she forgot.”

Deflating, you laughed, surprised at how clearly you had delivered the words. Especially considering how long it had been since you heard them.

Buggy didn’t look nearly as impressed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a clean limerick before,” he said. “And now I know why. I mean, what’s the point of limerick without the ick.”

You blew a raspberry at him. “Fine, you do one.”

“Okay, but you have to prepare yourself,” Buggy said. You nodded encouragingly.

“There was a young plumber named Lee

Who was plumbing his girl by the sea.

She said, ‘Stop your plumbing,

There's somebody coming’

Said the plumber, still plumbing, ‘It's me.’"

Belatedly, you gasped, your hands covering your mouth. That shock dissolved into giggles. “That’s, oh, that’s… that’s dirty.”

“Aw, was it too much for your delicate sensibilities? Now that you’re a pirate, you’re gonna hear a lot worse than that. A looooooooot worse. I hope your unspoiled ears can handle it.”

“I can!” you insisted, taking a big drink to steel yourself before setting the bottle aside. If you were going to be a pirate, you had to stop getting so flustered. “More. Please.”

“Okay, okay…” Buggy cleared his throat. “A hooker roaming the East Blue,

Once filled her vagina with glue,

She said, with a grin, ‘Well, they paid to get in,

And they’ll damn sure pay to get out, too.’”

You laughed loudly, as much at the joke as the taboo nature of it. You laughed, and then giggled in a bubbly, drunken way that you knew was too loud and embarrassing. “That is icky,” you told him. “Jeez, that’s…” Your faux seriousness dissolved into a fit of giggles again and you leaned against him for stability. “What would you even do?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. It sounds like a sticky situation,” he said, nudging you with his elbow. That, of course, sent you into another fit of giggles.

“I’m sorry, I’m…” you said. “I think I’m drunk.” You looked behind yourself at the town, the glittery haze of joy buzzing in your head fading at the sight. It was horrific, wasn’t it? And here you were, laughing like a fool. You couldn’t really comprehend the magnitude of it all, even if you could acknowledge that it was terrible. “Is it okay?” you asked, looking back at him imploringly. “Everything that happened tonight… I thought I would feel very different after, but I don’t. It almost feels like it’s not even real. You ever get that? When things happen but they feel so impossible that you get confused?”

“If you can think that clearly,” Buggy said, “then you’re not drunk enough. Bottoms up, babydoll.” You smiled at his use of the pet name and the fluttery feeling it gave you. What else could you do but oblige, tipping the bottle back like before. Only, unlike before, you kept it all down. There wasn’t any real burn, just more sweetness, more warmth.

And then there was nothing left.

“Woah,” you said, lowering the empty bottle and wiping your mouth. “‘s all gone.”

“And how do you feel?” he asked.

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a dizzy sort of laugh. “I dunno…” you said, closing your eye, trying to collect your thoughts. “I’m…” Already things were getting even more fuzzy and foggy. Fabric stuck to your flushed skin, the salty air drying across your chest and cheeks. “I feel… very…”

Making an upset noise in the back of your throat, you pushed your hair back, catching the bandana and pulling it off so you could feel the breeze on your whole face. That helped. Drawing in a deep breath, you looked at him, trying to focus. Only, the second you saw him, all you could do was smile. His eyes were greedy about the light, sparkling with it. Even with the nose, Buggy was handsome. That was not something you could tell him though, not at all ever. Unfortunately you had forgotten what you were saying in the first place.

“Very… what?” Buggy asked. “‘Cause if you keep trying to be a buzzkill, I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

Were you a buzzkill? You couldn’t remember what you had said or done to earn that title. It was hard enough to comprehend what was happening in the moment. “Like what?” you asked.

“Like… this!” Buggy said, using the sash around your waist to pull you closer so he could tickle your sides. You jumped and squealed, the bottle rolling out of your hands as you tried to fight him off.

“No no no, don’t,” you cried, trying to escape. You were being too loud, moving too much, acting like an idiot, but you didn’t have enough control to stop.

“Why not?” he asked. “You’re laughing, aren’t you?”

It was true, you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, letting it out in panicked little bursts. Time had a bizarre elasticity to it, everything hitting you at once and fading just as fast. Laughing, sobbing, begging him to stop. It was easy to catch and hold onto one of his hands, but that left the other one free. And if you tried to catch that one instead, you had to release the first. There must have been a better way to do it, but you felt as if, bit by bit, particle by particle, the world was separating, the hot and humid air splitting, your limbs becoming loose, your capacity for rational thought dissipating like mist.

Lacking any sort of control and with a completely undeserved sense of invulnerability, you tackled him. Buggy let it happen, still laughing. At least he had stopped.

“God, it’s like being attacked by a drunk, one-eyed toddler,” he said. “What are you gonna do, whine me into submission?”

“Don’t be mean,” you said seriously, your words ruined by something wavering between a laugh and a sob, or maybe it was just the drunken slur.

“You attacked me. If anything, I'm the victim here.”

“No! You started it!��

“Hold on, are you… crying?” Buggy asked incredulously. “Aw, you poor thing. I mean, you were laughing so much, how could I have known you didn’t like it?”

“I don’t!” you insisted.

“To be clear,” he said. “You don’t like this?” He attacked your sides, not tickling so much as just teasing, but to the same effect. You yelped and sat up squirm away, swatting at his hands.

Rather than laugh like before, Buggy groaned, his hips bucking up against you. A loud, harsh gasp left your mouth, your entire body going rigid from the liquid heat of friction, your thighs squeezing around him. At some point, your skirt had ridden up, your panties being the only barrier left. You didn’t think you had ever been as acutely aware of how achingly empty, electrically tingly, as you were right then.

Bad. Very bad.

“Oh, there’s another fun noise,” Buggy said, laughing as he propped himself upright with his arms. “I can’t believe that got you.”

“No,” you said quickly, dizzy from the intensity of your reaction and how close the two of you were. You could smell him, the sweat, the musk, the salt, the greasepaint, the gunpowder. You could see the glitter in his makeup, the fire catching in his eyes. “It jus’... surprised me.”

“Is that why you’re shaking?” Buggy asked, rubbing your exposed thigh, the fabric of his glove catching the sensitive skin.

“I’m… um…” Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to organize the drunken slush of your brain. Being so close to him, feeling his body against yours, sent deviously tantalizing tingling sparks through you. And guilt. It was wrong, he wasn’t doing anything to invite those feelings, you were just being weird and drunk and embarrassing and you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. You’d have to tilt your head a lot, although the stubble would be more hazardous than his nose. The last time you kissed someone, you were both young enough that you didn’t have to navigate facial hair. And then there was the matter of the makeup. You tried to imagine what you might look like after, the slash of red and imprint of white. Maybe they’d mix into pink. You tried to force yourself to focus on something else, but you couldn’t meet his eyes either. Nervous and confused and filled with a million different feelings you had no name for, you squirmed again, thoughtlessly adding to the anxious feedback loop of heat and need and intoxicated emptiness.

“You know, sweetheart, this reminds me,” Buggy said, “there’s still the matter of your physical. It’s standard procedure for new crew. We could get that over and done with while you’re… lubricated.”

“What’re you… talking about?”

“I’ve gotta make sure you’re fit, healthy… Clean of anything you could pass on to the forty or so people you’re gonna be stuck with in an enclosed space for weeks at a time.”

“How d’you do that?”

“You’ve been to a doctor, right? It’s kinda like that. I know it can feel a little invasive, so it might be better to do it while you’re drunk.”

“What…” you started to ask, but then Buggy shifted, his hips pushing up against you. The fresh wash of warmth it sent into your core scattered your mind, and you lost the already tenuous thread of thought. Your eyelashes fluttered, although you weren’t sure when you had closed your eye. “Umm…”

“Well, first,” he said, answering the question you hadn’t asked, “you’d have to take off your clothes. Then relax while I have a little look-see. It’s important that you stay as still as possible. I’ll have a hard time finishing if you can’t stop squirming around the whole time.”

“Do you really have to?” you asked, your brow furrowing. It sounded embarrassing. But maybe if it was him, you didn’t mind? Your dad did all of your past medical check-ups so it wasn’t inherently wrong. But the thought of Buggy seeing you without clothes wasn’t exactly nice, you could only imagine his disgust. That was bad.

“Depends on if you’re serious about being a pirate or not,” Buggy said.

“I am serious!” you exclaimed. Your hands went to the sash around your waist to pull the bow free. If you did it quickly, you wouldn’t be as embarrassed.

“Woah, wait. Holy shit,” Buggy said, “are you seriously—” He cracked up laughing, making you freeze. “I didn’t think you’d actually fall for that.”

“You’re… laughing,” you said, your fingers falling with the slow sink of humiliation.

“You really were going to strip for me, out in the open and everything.” Buggy laughed harder, rocking forward. “I didn’t expect you to be so eager. Hey, if you really wanna get naked, I’m not going to stop you.”

“I don’t, I just… I thought…” you said, pulling away from him and trying to get onto your feet to get away, embarrassment lighting the worst sort of fire within you.

“Woah, calm down, it was just a joke,” Buggy said, his laughter fading. “You’re absolutely plastered, if you stand up, you’re gonna fall right back down.” You didn’t stop, resolute to get onto your feet and put some distance between you and him. “I won’t catch you.”

“’m fine,” you told him.

You finally got your footing and braced against your knee to lurch upright. For a second, you were standing up and weightless. And then you were nothing.

#opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #opla x reader #buggy x reader #my writing #one piece live action #buggy the clown #buggy the genius jester #buggy the flashy fool #lmao all of those come up when you type buggy that's cute #flashbang

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builtbykittie · 7 months

Text

Electrified

S.F.K x f!reader

Summary: Escaping an uncomfortable situation at a party, you frantically look for your best friend, just to find he was also searching for you.

Warnings: 18+ per usual, alcohol consumption, SMUT, semi public sex, unprotected sex (y'all know better), this is literally just porn... nothing too crazy.

Words: nearly 4.5k

A/N: Ugh another Sam friends to lovers? Yes. This is a Taylor Swift inspired fic🥰. Every time I hear this song, I think of Sammy (despite the fact he hates pop music) So I finally wrote about it, enjoy! (Disclaimer I literally didn't edit this much at all & I'm so sorry)

"Who are you trying to impress," Sam's eyes trace the shape of your body before looking back to the road. "Nobody," you fix the length of your dress in the passenger seat. "Why? You worried someone might try to take me home?" you smirk.

"Pfft, no," he rolls his eyes, thumbs drumming to the beat of the rock song piercing through your ears. "Then why do you care," you bicker with him as if you're siblings, trying to get each other as annoyed and worked up as possible.

The truth is, you couldn't care less if anyone else saw you. You only wanted Sam to see you, for some stupid reason. Sam is your best friend, and has been for years, so why would you even try to impress him? For the same reason everybody else tries to impress their person of choice, of course.

"Oh thank god. I'm saved!" Sam snickers as he pulls into his brother's crowded driveway. You giggle and roll your eyes "Sam you know I don't like parties, you're gonna have to deal with me eventually tonight."

"Yeah, well, I'm saved for now," he playfully grabs your knee and gives it a shake before pulling his seatbelt away from his body. "Oh shut up, you know you would gladly argue with me for hours," you unbuckle your own seatbelt, pushing the door open with your heel.

Sam helps you down from the passenger's seat, his large hand hovering over the small of your back, then gently grabbing your waist as you slip out of the seat until your heels touch the ground. "You got me," he grins. It's simple touches like these that keep you on your toes, a wave of electricity flowing through your body every. single. time.

You look around at the countless cars lined up in front of Josh's house, starting to grow anxious. "I'll be in there the whole time. If anything happens, just find me," Sam pats your back and gestures for you to follow him into his brother's house.

All you really want is to stay in and watch movies, but Sam wouldn't dare to miss his big brother's party, and you don't blame him.

Sam parts ways with you within just minutes of being in the house, instantly going to mingle with any person who catches his attention. You grow a little jealous, not just of the other people getting his attention but also of his social skills. You wish you could make conversation with people as effortlessly as he could, but instead, you hunt for any person you're relatively close with.

"Y/N!" You hear your name being called by a voice you could recognize from miles away. "Jake?" You locate him in just seconds, walking over and pulling him into a side hug. "You here with Sam?" Jake looks around for any sight of his younger brother.

"Yeah. He left me as soon as we got through the door," you smile, swinging your arm through the air as if to swat away a pesky fly. "Yeah.. Sam's an asshole," he laughs, but he can't seem to mask the look of concern playing on his features.

The unbearable sounds of Sam shouting with others only seem to make you more upset. You should be happy that your best friend can have fun and be himself, but it all just gets caught up in a fit of jealousy. "You don't need to worry about me. Do you know where Josh is?" You look around, having not seen Josh once at his own party.

"Hm, downstairs maybe. You know how Josh is, he's just trying to converse with everyone," you nod your head, giggling as you picture his adorable self going around to every single person here and making them feel welcome.

"Well, I'm gonna go look for him. I'll see you later," you wave, squeezing through and dodging everyone till you reach the stairs. There he is, his slim figure facing away from you as he talks to someone at the bottom of the stairs. You wait there only for a few seconds until Josh discovers you himself, swiftly making his way up the stairs "Y/N! When did you get here? Where's Sam?"

"There he is! We didn't show up too long ago. And Sam's gotta be around here somewhere." Josh pulls you into an embrace, stepping back and complimenting your dress. "Thanks, Sam didn't like it," you giggle "I gotta say, you always have the best parties. You truly are a man of many talents."

You and Josh are rudely interrupted by a woman's voice shouting your name, followed by a cold hand wrapping around your arm. Your brows furrow, giving Josh a puzzled look before turning around to meet eyes with a girl you knew, but not well enough.

She's obviously wasted, her eyes bloodshot, her skin a deep shade of crimson, not to mention the fact you can hardly understand her "I haven't seen you in forever!" You avoid any physical contact, lest she spills her drink on your brand new dress you'd spent all afternoon staring at yourself in. "Hey, Jen. Been a while, huh?" There's no doubt in your mind that this conversation would be 100% less painful if you had something in your system, but you were completely sober.

"Let me get you a drink," she pats your shoulder and gestures toward the counter that is littered with countless alcohol bottles, empty and full. It's as if she read your mind. You let out a sigh of relief, turning back to Josh but he's not there, and now you're surrounded by people you'd rather not be around.

Normally you wouldn't take a drink made by someone else, but these are Josh's friends, and Jen was 100% a girls girl. "Thank you," you take the drink from her hand, awkwardly sipping off the red solo cup filled with what tastes like a mix of vodka and cherry juice.

"We're playing games in the living room, you should come join," Jen grabs you, pulling you in the direction of the living room before you can even say anything.

"Oh no, I'm so bad at games, I'll just embarrass myself," you whine, but letting her drag you into the room of people nonetheless. "Not skill games, silly!" She points at everyone sitting in a circle, familiar faces looking up and insisting you to sit. It all feels so childish, like a bunch of high schoolers that got ahold of their parent's alcohol, playing games to get a rise out of each other.

You find Jake in the circle as well, a defeated smile on his face as he shrugs in your direction. "Fine," everyone cheers, scooting over to make room for you and the dark-haired girl next to you. Jake is sitting straight across from you, his sweet brown eyes calming you down and silently telling you to relax, to have fun.

You're not sure when, but at some point, the questions being asked have taken a sharp turn from being embarrassing yet harmless, to being strictly about the sex lives of everyone in the circle.

All color drains from your face as the bottle slows down, pointing straight at you. You already know the question is gonna be about you and Sam, it always is.

"Have you hooked up with Sammy yet? What's he like in bed?"

"I haven't... which is a surprise considering he'll take any girl home," you fail to hide the venom and jealousy that has laced your voice, everyone giggling and "ooh" ing like little children. "Just spin the damn bottle. I don't wanna hear about Sam's sex life anymore," Jake saves you from any more invasive questions, sending a wink in your direction.

You sit miserably through a couple more rounds and a few more drinks, the constant discussion of sex reminding you that you haven't gotten off in a while. You've been so busy for the past few days, you'd completely forgotten how long you've gone without a good orgasm.

Wetness in your panties becomes evident to you as you adjust your position. For every minute you sit there, the anticipation grows, your heart pounding and your hands trembling as you absent-mindedly search for Sam every other second. Your mind sifts through every possible affair, unsure of how to fix your problem. Do you relieve yourself in Josh's bathroom? Look for someone to go home with?

Finally, you stand up, your legs beginning to carry you away from the circle before your brain can even make a decision. "Excuse me," you ignore everyone's stares and questions, moving through the house as if you're on autopilot mode.

You still don't know where you're going, but when you find yourself subconsciously searching for Sam's face, it becomes apparent what you truly want. Now you're frantic, plowing through people and shamelessly calling his name. You're in a daze as you search every corner of Josh's house, not paying any care to how beside yourself you may look or how desperate you may sound to lingering guests.

Turning the corner to yet another crowded room, you run into someone's chest, exhilaration coursing through your veins and what's left of your inhibitions melting away as you realize it's Sam.

"Sam! I was looking everywhere for you!" you basically throw yourself onto him, smoothing your palms over his chest. "I was looking for you," his tone is sexy, hypnotizing sultry brown eyes stare into yours. You don't know if it's just the drinks, but there's a specific energy radiating off of Sam's warm body. If you stand there for long enough, breathing him in, you're sure that it will get you high.

An overwhelming feeling takes complete control over you, lifting yourself slightly to whisper in his ear "I need you, Sam." You shock yourself, unsure where your sudden bluntness came from.

You watch Sam's eyes widen and feel his chest rise and fall underneath your hands, his body growing unbelievably hot.

Sam's breath significantly picks up as you cup his face, rubbing your thumb across the warm surface. You back him into a dark part of the room, starting to press kisses against his neck.

He looks around in a panic, but luckily no one is looking "Y/N, we're leaving. Now." His lanky fingers wrap around your wrist, and he begins to pull you through the house, nearly running.

You both are far too turned on to say goodbye to anyone or pay attention to comments people make as you pass by. But to your misfortune, Josh stops you.

"Hey! Are you two leaving already?" Josh quirks an eyebrow as he notices something on Sam's neck, a smirk playing on his lips after connecting the dots. "Uh, yeah," Sam searches for an excuse "You know how she is with parties." Sam lifts your arm as you awkwardly smile beside him.

"Okay, well, it was really nice to see you. Enjoy yourselves," Josh doesn't pull you in for a hug like he normally would, instead just sending you on your way. His smug tone and grin would normally send you into a panic, but right now you couldn't care less about anything other than Sam.

You hope to make a beeline straight out the door, but you're stopped by yet another Kiszka brother and Daniel by his side.

"There you are. Leaving?" Jake's eyes flick down to the same spot Josh noticed, now you're curious. Sam nods "She's not feeling great and I'm her ride." Jake snickers and taps Danny with his elbow, a crooked smile growing on his face "I'm sure you are."

"Oh fuck off. Are you gonna let us leave?" Sam doesn't even try to act calm, the more you stand the more the anticipation builds. "You can't stay just a little longer?" Danny smirks, Jake bringing his hands up to rest on his hips.

"No," now you're incredibly impatient and unable to stand still as your arousal soaks your panties "I really don't feel good." "Awh... Well.. you heard the girl," Jake laughs through his words, sending a jab to Danny's side with his elbow. Danny slings his arm over Jake's shoulder as they begin to take steps backward "see ya!"

"Fuck. Finally," Sam breathes, and you look over to him, your lipstick painted all over his neck. "Sam," you whisper, but he's too distracted to hear it, or anything anyone is saying. Suddenly, the room erupts with hollers as Sam shoves you through the door.

"Sam, they all know," you whine, reaching a hand up to massage his scalp as he pulls you into his side. "Good," he pulls his keys from his pocket, unlocking the car and practically running to it. Sam walks around to the driver's side, and that's when you realize you can't wait any longer.

"Sam," you drop your head, fully aware of how desperate you've become. "What baby?" He opens the door, a smug grin pulling on his cheeks. "Sam I- I can't... I need you."

"I thought you'd say that," he snickers, slamming the door shut and pulling the door to the back seat open. You waste no time sending the door flying open and crawling in, locking the door behind you.

Your lips instantly find his, your teeth clashing into each other's as you smash your lips together. "What were you thinking?" Sam sucks in a breath as he backs you toward the door and hovers over you. Before you can respond he starts again "I mean seriously. Wearing this tiny fucking dress. Kissing me in front of those people. Getting me all worked up."

A whiney moan escapes your mouth as he lifts the hem of your dress, his cold fingertips grazing the skin of your upper thigh. "I knew you'd like it," you confess in a moan, lifting your hands and tangling them in his hair, pulling him into you.

Suddenly, he violently pulls the silk black fabric above your head. Your words obviously sparked a fire in him, a vicious one nobody could put out. Sam's fingers rake over your thighs then up to your unclothed breasts, groaning at the sight "You knew full well what you were doing dressed like this."

Sam takes your nipple in his mouth before releasing it with a pop and sucking a bruise to the swell of your breast. "So what if I did, Sammy?" You moan, arching your back into him. You reach down and cup his bulge, palming him as a devilish grin grows on your face.

"Then I'll just have to fuck you until you can't see straight." With that, he begins to trail kisses down your breasts to your navel, his finger drawing lines across your skin so close to where you desperately need his touch.

"Sam, please," you whine, back arching up into his touch as he kisses along the band of your panties. Your pleads are met with a sick laughter against your tummy "you're so needy, you know that?"

You couldn't roll your eyes back further in your head, trying your very hardest to not reach down and pull your panties off yourself. "You can't act like you don't need it just as bad, Sam. I know how bad you want to fuck me," you moan, knowing it'd set off something in him.

You were right, because without warning he swiftly pulls the tiny piece of lace fabric down your legs, leaving you completely naked. "Jesus, you're eager, huh?" Sam hums and brings his lips to your tummy, sucking the skin into his mouth before lapping at the raw skin with his tongue.

"You just can't admit it huh Sammy? You can't admit that I'm right?" You try to get him as worked up as you possibly can, your body rolling into his touch. "Wow. You're right, Y/N. I'm just dying to feel you," he rolls his eyes dramatically, but he's far from lying.

Slowly and painfully, Sam makes a line of kisses down from your navel to the very top of your heat. "Please.." is all you can muster up and your eyes clamp shut in anticipation, just waiting for him to do something, anything.

"Now you're being nice? What happened to the bratty girl who was here just a second ago?" Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel his hot breath against your core. "Sam, stop. Plea-" you're unable to finish your sentence when he suddenly points his tongue, dragging it through your arousal drenched folds.

You suck in a choked gasp, involuntarily pushing yourself against Sam's face, earning a hum against your heat. The vibration sends a shock through your body, your hands mindlessly flying to his hair "oh Sam..."

His tongue quickly warmed up to you, it was as if he already knew your body. Without warning, Sam shoves a finger in you, hitting a sweet spot as he does so. "Sam.. I can- I'm almost-" you're interrupted by your own moan as he pushes another finger in, instantly curling up.

Sam lifts his head to look you in the eye, stopping his movement causing you to whine at the loss of contact "can you do one more?" You're a bit taken back by the question "I- I don't know... Nobody's ever..."

"I know you can," he presses a peck to your clit and slowly slides in a third, stretching you out in a way you've never experienced before. "Oh- oh my god.. Sam,"

"Good girl... You're so tight around my fingers, baby. Are you close?" All you can muster up is a weak nod and a hum, pushing yourself down onto his fingers further. You find yourself holding your breath, a moan ripping through your chest as he presses the flat of his tongue against your clit.

You take the opportunity to grind against his tongue, your hips beginning to shake and your thighs burn when you feel your orgasm approach. Your movements significantly quicken, relentlessly grinding and pushing yourself against Sam's tongue as he viciously rams his fingers into you.

Within a matter of seconds, the burning pleasure flows through your entire body, your eyes shut so tightly you might need to pry them open as you mutter his name over and over.

"Fuck, Y/N," Sam breathlessly snickers, slowly pulling his fingers from you and rubbing the slick all around your core. He returns to hover over you, bringing his face down to your ear "you know... A couple girls tried to take me home.. but I was looking for you, Y/N."

Your eyes widen in confusion and you nod your head, silently telling him to continue. "I couldn't stop thinking about you.. that dress.. your body. I needed you. Only you," he takes the shell of your ear in between his teeth, gently biting down.

The confession sends a shiver down your spine and your mouth falls open once he finds a sensitive spot behind your ear. You reach up and push his head against your neck, you can basically hear your heartbeat in your ears as he continues to nip at and place open mouth kisses to your neck.

"I thought you didn't like the dress," you smirk, your other arm reaches down, desperately trying to find what you need so bad. "So greedy... you're not satisfied with just these?" Sam teases, dragging his fingers through your heat.

"Sam, stop," you moan, your body jolting at the touch. Another wicked snicker leaves his lips as he presses his clothed bulge to your core "that attitude isn't gonna get you anywhere, doll. Ask nicely."

As much as you hate it, you're ready to accept defeat. "Please, Sam. I need you. Please... give it to me," you whine, grinding up against his bulge. An animalistic groan bubbles up from from his chest as he props himself up with one hand, the other fumbling with his button.

"Need help with that?" You giggle, watching as he fails to swiftly undo his jeans. You don't let him respond, his head dips down to rest in the crook of your neck as you reach to finish the task yourself.

Within just seconds you get his button undone and his zipper down, pushing them to his knees and instantly cupping his erection. Suddenly, you start to process just exactly what is happening.

He lifts his head and you look into his gorgeous brown eyes, yours widening as you take in every feature of his face lit by the moonlight. "What is it baby? You nervous?" He smiles at you, his hands running down your body, squeezing painfully at your thighs.

"Well I'd be lying if I said I wasn't, Sammy," you confess, and his face softens, the devious smile that played on his lips visually turning into a fond grin.

"Oh, Y/N. There's no need to be nervous, I promise," he brings his head back down to softly kiss your lips, but you had something else in mind. You take the opportunity to palm him through his boxers, eliciting a desperate groan from him. You can tell he's been holding back, and it's painful.

You bite his lip as he pulls back, every ounce of doubt or anxiety draining from your body. "Tell me, pretty," he pushes his boxers past his hips, his unbelievably hard cock springing free. "You knew I'd like that dress?"

If you're being honest, you completely forgot you had even said that, but it's obvious he'd been working himself into a frenzy over it. "Sammy.. I wore it for you," you drag your fingers over his body, his breath hitching in his throat as you draw a line down his length with your fingertip.

"I wore it because I thought.. I don't know.. it'd turn you on..." You trail off, looking away from him and suddenly hyper-aware of your naked body. "Well it worked, didn't it?" He giggles, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him "does this mean you've wanted to fuck me before tonight?"

"Well... I mean yeah," you reach down, grasping the base of his cock "are we just gonna lay here and have a conversation or do you want to fuck me, Sam?" A shocked look plays on his face which quickly morphs into a sinister smile "you're feisty."

You grasp the back of his neck, bringing him close to you and sucking on the skin behind his ear as you slowly stroke his cock. "God- damnit Y/N," Sam groans as he involuntarily fucks himself into your hand.

Just as he juts his hips to fuck himself into your hand, you move it, and push him down to be lined up with your dripping entrance. "Fuck me until I can't see straight, Sam," you whisper lowly into his ear, granting him permission to enter you.

"Oh fuck," he groans, your own noises mirroring his as he stretches you out so slow that the sting could become almost too much for you. You arm instinctively flies over his back, pushing him down closer to you "oh my god."

Within just a matter of seconds he begins to roll his hips, snapping them into the meat of your thigh and hitting a sweet spot just right. The moan that tumbles past your lips could disturb the entire first floor of the party still very alive and just feet away from you and Sam.

"Yeah you like that?" He punctuates his words with another sharp thrust, followed by a slow, languid thrust. "Mhm.." your eyebrows knit together, unable to form words as he keeps up this intoxicating pattern.

Your mind grows foggy, your only thoughts consisting strictly of Sam. "M- more," you whine and reach down to unbutton his shirt, desperate to feel his skin on yours.

"More? Are you sure you want that?" Sam struggles to form his own sentence as you clench and quiver around him. You nod your head frantically, pulling his chest down onto yours and arching your back up into him.

The slight change in position allowed Sam to go even deeper, the new leverage giving you everything you needed. "Oh Sam.. right there.. oh," you cry, clawing his back.

He feels too good

He hits an especially sensitive spot with a particularly rough thrust, a shocking wave of electricity flowing through your body. "Holy- holy shit..." you all but shriek, and you violently throw your head back, crashing into the door behind you.

"Woah- you okay?" Sam's movements never falter, keeping that same pattern. "Yes, Sam. Just keep- keep fucking me," you finally get the full sentence out after what feels like forever, and you know you're not going to last much longer.

You try to warn him, but your pathetic attempts to form words fail miserably. "Shit Y/N... you're so-" he interrupts himself with a guttural groan as his own orgasm to approaches.

Just as you requested and he promised, what was left of your vision completely fades away and you no longer fight to keep your eyes open.

Suddenly, fiery white pleasure viciously burns through your body and you're sure you've never felt anything like this before as you cry out his name over and over and over. "Shit. Shit shit shit," Sam's pleasure takes over his mind and you feel his hot release spurt inside you.

You're unsure just how much time has passed, but it's enough to bring you back down to earth. "Sam? You still with me?" You giggle, rubbing his back as you half expect him to be asleep.

"I'm here," he breathes, a wave of melancholy taking over your mind as you realize it's over. "I'm gonna pull out love, you ready?" All you can do is nod, clamping your eyes shut and preparing yourself. You bite back a whimper as he pulls from you, a mix of your juices dripping down your leg.

The last thing you'd expect is Sam going down and licking the mess up. A sharp, yet intoxicating feeling shocking your body as he licks through your folds and over you overstimulated clit.

"Think you could go another round?" You whisper, untangling his sweaty hair. His head shoots up to meet your eyes, a sinister grin playing over his features "go get in the front... We're going home."

#greta van fleet #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #gvf smut #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka smut #sam kiszka #sam gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf

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sanjisblackasswife · 1 year

Note

Hiiii your a great writer and can I please have a hug from luffy? I really need one tatey ❤️

Even though…my requests are closed…u called me Tatey and I thought that was very cute. So yes.

“Hug Me!” Luffy x Fem Reader (FLUFF)

“Where’s y/n?”

“Where’s y/n?!”

“Y/N!?”

He searched and search, checking every barrel, every cabinet, every closet, but you were no where to be found.

“Y/N!” Luffy’s Whiney voice began to come out ringing in everybody in ear shot to be a victim of hearing. He only got like this when he was frustrated. His flip flops pattered all through the huge ship looking for you.

He wanted to see you for something.

Luffy felt a bit

Off.

He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t sad or angry he just felt a bit not himself today

This has happened before and you helped him with a simple solution and now he believes you and only you can do it again.

He tried Nami. Didn’t work got slapped.

He tried Robin. It helped for a second, but it wasn’t the same.

He needed you’s specifically for this, but you were no where to be found?!

“Namiiiii did we accidentally throw y/n overboard?”

“No! Of course not! She’s probably in her room? She said she was feeling a bit tired today.”

He slaps his head, OF COURSE YOU’RE IN YOUR ROOM!

He rushes out the kitchen, scurring with his hand on his hat merely in giggles at the thought of you.

“Y/N!” His eyes lit up, there you were. Laying on your tummy drawing. Your face was a bit startled seeing as you were interrupted from the peace and quiet you’ve already adjusted to for the pst hour. Luffy snickers quick to walk to you, put his hat on your head and laid his body on your back like a blanket. “I was looking for you!”

“Luffy…” You groaned slowly moving your lower half side to side to wiggle him off, but that only signaled him to squeeze harder. “Ah! I told you I wanted to be in my room today.”

“Well I need help!” Luffy got from on top of you and dragged you by your arm to sit up, you couldn’t get mad entirely his smile was so contagious you caught yourself smirking.

You raise your eyesbrows to see what exactly he needs help with and he just extends his string like arms and wraps them around your entire body closing you in now chest to chest with your Captain.

It wasn’t too tight, but it still managed to knock the wind out of you, your face now in his neck inhaling his natural sweaty/musky/rubbery scent. His nape tickling your nose because his hair is still unkept and growing even faster.

Luffy rocked you back and fourth lightly humming, just what he needed! He felt warm and happy again!

You look up from his chest and he looks down back at you and you both smile and laugh. Of course…

“Luffy you just wanted a hug?”

“Yeah! You give the best ones.”

“Well let me hug you correctly, Lu.”

He nods and released you from his grasp, arms now regular length but open wide similar to his smile, exposing his small dimples you found so cute when he smiled that hard—waiting for it.

“Okay! Hug me!” Luffy laughed, and You smile, you get up from the bed, you were a bit taller than him so your arms wrapped around his neck and you gave him the best bear hug you could, swinging him back as you both hummed in unison, even finishing it with a tiny peck on the cheek making them just a very faint pink at the soft touch of your lips.

“Thank you, Y/N I feel better now!”

He pecks your cheek back so quickly you almost didn’t notice it before he fixes his hat back on your head.

Luffy was a simple man and you were a simple woman. And sometimes little things like hugs from you was all he needed to feel better.

#one piece #TimikosLuffy #one piece headcanons #black reader #one piece x female reader #luffy x black reader #Luffy x female #Luffy x female reader #one piece fluff #Luffy fluff #mugiwara no luffy #luffy #luffytaro #luffy x reader #one piece x black!reader #female reader

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wonysugar · 10 months

Text

domceo!yeji x subfem!reader hcs

a/n: I WASN’T EVEN PLANNING TO WRITE THIS BUT FUCKCKC the thought has been in my mind all day i couldn’t help it

tags: smut, wlw, office au, boss x employee, idol x reader, yeji, itzy

content warning: mild manipulation, power abuse, kinda consensual non-con, power imbalance

word count: 542

you’ve been working at this company for a long while now, your coworkers know you take your job very seriously. so much so that you sometimes stay overtime

but only you knew that you don’t do it solely for the work, you also do it to see your boss, miss hwang yeji, more often

being the one who inherited the company from mr. hwang, her father, she also takes her job very seriously and is an insanely strict person. everybody in the company is incredibly terrified of her due to her cold eyes and attitude, but you’re… weirdly attracted to it?

you acknowledge that it’s insanely unprofessional and immoral to view your boss in a sexual manner, but she’s just so hot? like insanely hot?

the way she runs her hand through her hair before fixing her glasses, the way she puts her hands on your shoulders whenever she’s checking out your work, or the way she ties up her hair in a ponytail always cause you to stare

“good job, y/n, great work as always.” as she rubs your back and you’re sooo turned on from it, despite trying very hard not to be, ‘it’s wrong’ you tell yourself

what you don’t know, though, is that she has those same exact thoughts about you

she often talks to you just to hear your voice so she can fantasize better about you screaming her name as she fingers herself later on<33

ever since the day you overheard her moaning in her office (the same day your idiot self came in without even knocking because you thought she had gotten hurt), you guys have been fucking undercover

she knows how much you like to be praised, so she calls you her good good girl while you eat her out under her desk, she’s stroking your hair and looking down at you while you’re working your mouth on her

she rewards you for every assignment you get done by fingering you, or sometimes when she’s really proud of you, she pounds your pretty cunt with her strap<3

“does my pretty little bitch like that, hm?” ughhh I CAN’TTCJSJF

SORTAAA manipulates you into fucking her when you don’t feel like it, abuses her power, basically (but you like it, and she knows you do)

“you wouldn’t want me to take 15% off of your paycheck, would you now, princess? now come on, get to work.” as she motions for you to get undressed aghh<3

occasionally eyefucks you when walking around the office, fully aware that your coworkers may see her

orders you around all the time, whether it’s for work purposes or just so she can use your body properly. she wants everything her way, and you love that just as much as she does

“don’t speak unless I tell you to, got it?” while she’s using a vibrator on you, gripping you by the hair

“shit, keep fucking me like that, y/n..” as she leans back on her chair, biting her lip trying to surpress her moans GUYSSCKD

she loves marking your body (hickeys, bite marks, etc.) and she lives for the days when you don’t try to cover them. it did get HR on your ass though, but it’s okay, she defended you :]

#wlw scenarios #hwang yeji #itzy #itzy x you #itzy x yn #yeji x reader #female reader #smut #office au #yeji smut #gxg #gxg smut #headcanons #itzy headcanons

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emojellyace08 · 9 months

Text

Lookism Men x Female Reader "Their types on a woman" (J-High Main boys)

A/N: Hi fellow human! Sorry if I hadn't made any posts this past few weeks, I was taking a break and my laptop isn't working properly. Anyway, the important thing is I'm back making more Lookism (especially Danny content), so enjoi! :) Genre: Fluff☁️and slight angst? (for everyone) Warnings: NONE! just pure cuteness and sweetness I guess? Add in!: this post is also inspired by another Lookism Men (J-High boys) with a female reader. Though I can't really remember the acc or post so I'll just paste it in here incase I find it :) I'll probably make a part 2 about this

Daniel Park (Park Hyung Seok)

This man will be the biggest simp in the whole world. Will always look at you with that puppy eyes like 🥺👉👈 halk;hkld;ahfkl;ahf I love him so much

It's canon (kind of) that Daniel doesn't give a damn about how you look like for the most part. What matters to him most is that you respect everybody and treat them equally. But since the incident with Yui kind of traumatized him from finding true love, it also left and taught him a good and knowledgeable lesson. Since Danny went through lots of character development, he learned to himself that he can't just trust someone who acts nice and that he needs to know someone better if he really likes someone.

If you already interacted with his main body and haven't judge him for his looks just like a normal person would do or if you met this cinnamon roll on middle school when he's still being bullied by that fucker Logan, if you had the balls to save him from that mf congratulations! You made him interested in you!

If you also helped him in his homework or if you insists to spend some time with him like going out to the mall, patching his bruises when the bullies beat him up or if he gets in trouble with the gangs, and helping him out like giving him advices on his worst days even on the tiny things, he'll be head over heels for you (though he stills feel guilty that you're spending your money on him but you keep reassuring him that is fine) But if you're also the broke girl he can empathize more since he also faces this issues like his mom forcing herself to work just for him. Rich or not, fat or slim, girly or tomboyish, if you're overall kind, unjudgmental yet completely honest, and generous not just to him (in both of his bodies of course) but also to everybody without wanting anything in return, then you earned this man's respect and heart ;). I also headcannon that he's more into quiet and calm women since he's easily overwhelmed by noisy people and places. But even if you're the type of extroverted woman or the introverted type, as long you're nice and helpful then you'll catch his attention.

I feel like after having his second body he'll start to have the confidence to befriend you. At first he wouldn't make things obvious since he's still shy about his feelings for you since he wants to know you even more as you show your true colors. He'll also probably going to ask some advice on Jace and Zack about approaching you since he doesn't have that much of a romantic experience xD. Since you always treat him, he'll ask you to hang out with him like going to the mall to watch movies or going to the park and eating on every food truck or stand you see but he'll bring some of your friends too like Zack, Jay, Mira, Zoe, even Vasco to hang out so things won't be obvious.

If he enjoys your company and the energy you have, he'll ask you out more but this time is just the two of you (if he has the budget). Or if you're in the same class/school as you, he'll always ask you out to eat with him on lunch too making all his fangirls jealous lol. "You want a piggyback? No problem! Need help from your homework? I'll help you out!" Or even if you don't study at the same school, he'll still ask you out privately and if you accept it Daniel would be the happiest man alive and him just being here for you every time even if he's broke or mentally unstable too lol like how you company him too. Overall just him being there for you and ready to help while being sweet (please I just need a Danny in my life lmao).

And since he's a really shy and introverted person, he's afraid of opening up about his issues and insecurities. But knowing that you're a sweet person yet you don't sugar-coat things (no pun intended), he will probably talk about it with you even when he's still afraid of him being a burden to you. But if you reached out to him first if you noticed when he's acting down and strange, he'll appreciate and love you even more. An example of this when he writes a letter to you when he ran away. Since he can't express his self with words, he decides to write his thoughts on a piece of paper while confessing his problems and probably his true feelings to you. "Y/N I don't know how to tell my thoughts in the first place but seeing Logan back when I try to run away from my problems just kills me inside. It may sound selfish to you but I felt like a burden for you and especially my mom. But I thank you for being there for me in my darkest times, when you help me out from those bullies and you don't judge me by my looks. Though I just need time for myself now. Please don't look for me. You're really a sweet and honest person and that's why I love you, and I mean it and not just for being a friend. Though I don't expect you to reciprocate my feelings it back. The larva that waits for years to be reborn as a cicada decides to return back to it's shell and to not spread it's wings. I'm sorry". You'll definitely going to cry while reading the letters and words written on the wrinkly paper if you're really close to him. As the time he returns back home just imagine hugging him and scolding him for running away. "JESUS CHRIST DANIEL! DON'T RUN AWAY LIKE THAT AGAIN YOU'RE SCARING ME!" you hugged his small and chubby form while you stain his clothes with your tears. "Y-Y/N I don't know what I was thinking. I-I'm sorry I won't do it again".

Just be a green flag in general to him whether size, shape or form he's in. And bonus points for you if you treat his mom well ;).

Zack Lee (Lee Jin Sung)

Another approved simp here lol. Like this man is fine tf, ehem excuse me back to the topic

I feel like this man is insecure deep inside his tough shell. He really worked hard for his strength and in boxing to protect his friends like Mira and Johan since the cult incident. So he wouldn't be different with you if he sees you as a valuable and good person.

And remember when he's still a notorious bully and many people were afraid of him? (tbh I really hate him before when he beat Little Daniel before) I headcannon that no matter how hard he tries to be ignorant from other's comments about him he actually feels bad about the horrible things he have done yet he's still hesitant at first to change since he felt vulnerable if he listens to other people's gossip about him. Why is this so angst this is supposed to be fluff :(.

So if you tried to approach him when you noticed Zack's face had a bruise he didn't even know he has when he got into a fight, he'll be annoyed by you at first as why your talking to him. Do you know that his heart is only devoted to Mira? (Not that you're aware of so calm down boy). "Who the hell are you? Do you know that I only love Mira! She's the most beautiful person on Earth and I just can't hit on you sorry!" He continues to ramble that he likes someone else until he became speechless as you patch him with the extra band aid that you have on your pocket, you tip-toeing to reach his height as your warm and soft hands make contact with his open wounds while he froze. "I'm just trying to help and clean off your wound y'know. Don't worry I'm not hitting on you" you replied coldly yet with the same sweet tone on your voice that just makes him melt. This can't be happening, he likes Mira! She's been his crush since childhood! So why is he feelings butterflies in his stomach whenever you're near him??? (I love Mira so much but ahhhhh) Are you not scared of him? He's literally a bully in your school yet you chose to help him.

The thing is just like Daniel's preferences, what he likes about you is that you're free-spirited, you're a sweet and gentle person, honest and you're willing to help others. You also help him out with his ego-issues while giving him some constructive criticisms to work on himself. It may be a little bit hurtful on his part but he knows deep inside that you're expressing your thoughts that others can't tell to him because they're scared that he'll misunderstood it and beat them. But coming those constructive criticisms from your soft voice calms him even more and you want to bring out the best of him on his attitude. It may look like he's not listening, but trust me if he really likes you he'll lend his ears and mind for you.

Like Daniel, he'll be hesitant about his feelings first about you. Not because his insecure about himself but because he's insecure about it. He may look like a bad person on other people's eyes, he's DEFINETLY NOT THE TYPE to double-time two women. He likes Mira. Yet when he sees you eating lunch alone or just sitting on your desk on class and being quiet and minding your own business, he wants to approach and talk to you. "Wait is Mira absent? I guess sitting with Y/N in lunch won't be a bad idea." And he'll probably talk about his feelings for you to her. He's scared that if he confessed to him and you don't like like him back and that he's also going to hurt the other girl's feelings. That's why he'll conversate with the brunette. And despite liking Zack too Mira will definitely try to understand on what he's trying to say and will 100% support both of you. And Zack will also dress to impress xD. He'll flex his accomplishments to you "Y/N do you know that I'm a professional boxer? I won lots of boxing competitions y'know" he boastfully said while winking at you and being proud of himself. "But I thought you lost to Johan Seo-" "SHUT UP JIHO!" And will take you on "friendly dates" and will try to change his bad habits for him to be a good influence to you (though he will beat the sh*t out of everyone who ever tries to mess with you, not caring if you'll lecture him later).

Overall be nice, patient, be honest and understanding to him. And also take care of Zacky and he'll reciprocate it back :).

Vasco (Lee Euntae)

If the other two are simps, this man will follow you like a lost puppy lol

You know Vasco is innocent despite his gangster-looking body and face. This boy likes animals especially puppies! This man will also get superrrr excited when he sees you walking on the park with your dog (Will 100% approach you with a cute smile even if he doesn't know you lmao. It may freak you out but I told you Eun Tae is innocent so be patient about it). "Hello! Is this your dog? He looks so cute!" "Oh yeah he's a golden retriever." "Like a chihuahua?" "Oh no. Chihuahua is smaller than a golden retriever" you chuckled lightly at the tattooed male while his eyes sparkled even more as he bended down to reach the dog's height while apologizing to you about his mistake which you shrugged it off saying that it's okay. "Hi little dog, oh I mean woof woof!" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Since this man has zero percent romantic experience, he's literally going to fall fast for you. He will also introduce himself to you if you're not classmates or study at the same school since he's excited to have a girl friend (ehem) that likes animals too! If you also find him interesting and you gave him his number, he will tell everything to Jace and the other Burn Knuckles members about you all the time. "JACE! I TALKED TO A GIRL TODAY HER NAME IS Y/N!" "Vasco keep your voice do- wait. WHAT! YOU TALKED TO A GIRL!!!"

If he also notices about how you're a gentle and caring person and also likes helping others without wanting anything in return, he'll literally catch a crush on you. Being an animal lover will definitely makes you and Vasco make less tense with each other and have a very special connection with each other.

And if you also taught him to understood things in his surroundings, he'll definitely appreciate your help! You know how this man isn't really conscious on almost everything even on the little dirty things so when he doesn't know what he's doing wrong. So he'll really listen to you if you explain it to him in a detailed yet understandable statement! You don't have to be completely smart but you're intellectual thinking can also help him understand you way better. He'll also let you call him by his real name if you're really close to him. (Also I can imagine the Burn Knuckles crying and cheering when you and Vasco became a thing. Y'know the FBI cheering meme? And yes they will do the Invisible Charlotte on you lmao).

And you know how his sense of justice and helping people can also get him through hard situations sometimes? Yeah it makes you worried when his hero complex gets him in trouble despite just wanting to help others who can't defend themselves.

So imagine just patching and treating his wounds while lecturing him. "EUNTAE! YOU CAN'T JUST BE INVOLVED WITH FIGHTS EVERYDAY!" you scolded him while he tries to hold back him crying. He doesn't even know if he's going to burst down into tears because you're angry at him or because of the sting and pain he feels when the soft cotton made contact on his wounded skin. "S-So you-you're telling me that I can't defend the weak? They're literally getting bullied Y/N". you sighed as he misunderstood on what you're trying to imply while he sniffs as he can't control the liquid pouring out from his brown-colored orbs. You sat beside him as you made eye contact on his sad ones. "You know Euntae, I understood you. It's okay to help others but you can't just always get into fights with everybody. I'm worried for you y'know". "But the bad guys won't stop hurting the innocent if I don't stop them" he replied while feeling wretched. "Because that's the sad truth. But evilness has a reason to spread". "Why?" he asks innocently. "Because the world wouldn't be balanced if we don't make mistakes. We will be perfect like Gods but emotionless like robots. And the reason why evil is taking all over us is to open the eyes of others on how our own world and our own kind has become corrupted and to solve it is to help others. I have no problems of you helping out Vasco. But it makes me worried on what is going to happen to you." "That's why I'm trying to be stronger!" he cheered and stood up while his warm tears are still rolling down on his face. "It's to protect others and to protect you too Y/N!" you smiled at his optimistic thinking as you ruffled his hair making his heart skip a beat. "And that's what I like about you Lee Euntae".

Jay Hong (Hong Jae Yol)

A mixture of a simp and a puppy lmao.

I feel like he doesn't really fall in love so easily (unless it's Daniel lol)

Since Jay is also a quiet person (who literally doesn't talk), so I bet he can't stand whiny and noisy girls (lmao pls don't attack me). I think he prefers women (if it's women ;) who leans more on the quiet and gentle side yet is still fun to talk and be around with. Video games on his apartment, hanging out in the mall or talking about fashion styles and brands are his way to go dates.

It's canon that he buys expensive gifts and brands for someone he likes so just expect him to just gave you 4 bags full of clothes and jewelry that almost anybody can't touch and buy for themselves. But despite him buying you everything that you want, he still hopes that you just don't like him because he's hot, mysterious and rich. He really wants someone who values him not just by his looks and social status. But if simple signs of helpful gestures is enough for you like him helping you out on your homeworks when you're in struggle or if you need a shoulder to cry on then Jay will be available 100%.

If you decided to approach Jay first, it's completely normal for him to be a bit shy and tense in front of you. He can really caught the attention of many women because of his beautiful features and good taste on fashion style while the other dudes just stare at him with envy. But if you really want to make friends with anybody, talking to Jay can be a challenge. Not only is that he don't literally open his mouth, he can't help but to feel nervous when a girl or literally anybody who approaches him since he's not used to it. Though after befriending him out of pure innocence and not wanting anything from him, he'll start to be more open about his interests and Jay will start to be more caring about you and just be himself in front of you and everybody else.

Just like the rest of the dudes, your sweet and warm personality can break the ice between the two of you and if he's starting to like you even more than just a friend, his affection would be more and more obvious. He will also patch you up and clean your wounds when you get hurt and he'll beat the sh*t out of everyone who tries to mess and hurt you (just like the other three boys). But he won't let you know why your bullies/enemies look like they've been used as a punching bag. He's also willing to give you his whole wallet full of cash if you can't buy your lunch (he'll still force you to take it especially if he knows you're the broke type lol).

Will probably start to learn sign language and Morse code with you so you can understood each other more lol (and talk about dumb shit a lot that only the two of you will understand lmao). But if you can already comprehend on what he's trying to express, he'll appreciate it and fall for you more considering how his close friends and family are the only ones who at least understand on what he's trying to pick up. And listen to him when he's ranting about his problems even though there are no words coming out of his mouth. He might even let out a sad whimper and a huff when he tries to suppress his feelings since he doesn't want to be seen as a burden especially in front of someone whom he really cherishes.

Just be a green flag. Don't just use him as a sugar daddy or he won't be returning the sweet treatment and attitude back at you. Actions speak louder than words after all.

A/N: my first ever fluff to be written about and yeah sorry if this sucks.

#lookism x reader #lookism x y/n #lookism x you #daniel park x reader #jay hong x reader #zack lee x reader #vasco x reader #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism fic

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