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happyely2 · 8 months

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Pairing: Portuguese D. Ace x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+ | The rating will be red this time, so if you are a minor skip this reading or highlight your age in your bio.| sex scenes, cuddles, and much more very explicit.

Summary: 31 prompts for 31 days of October. Life on Moby Dick is always hectic and has become more so since Ace boarded this ship and became part of the family.

✒️Prompts taken from the contest (even if I don't participate) organized by the Italian Fanwriter page. I only translated the prompts into English, I hope you like it.✒️

🌊Writober PumpSea🌊 #day 2 - Stump

The newspaper had arrived as usual early in the morning and had been dropped onto the main deck.

"They upgraded the new kids sizes!" Halta had said as he quickly entered the dining room with the new wanted posters.

In a short time the bets had already started.

"Who is this straw hat?" Satch looked at the poster of a new novel that roamed the northern sea.

"Did you say straw hat?" You asked, taking the poster from Satch’s hand and looking carefully at it, a straw hair, a thirty-two-tooth smile you knew well, a wound under your left eye. That was Luffy, Ace’s younger brother.

"ACEEEE! Your brother just got a new bounty!" You shouted to get the attention of the guy who had just entered the kitchen. You knew how proud Ace was of his little brother.

"I can’t believe it! The wretch did it in the end." Ace said, taking the bounty you gave him and smiling at you. Yeah, even if they weren’t blood brothers, that smile was the same.

"Sooner or later you’re gonna have to introduce me to all of you, brother." You said by leaving a kiss on his naked shoulder. Ace had started spinning shirtless, partly because of the amount of muscle he had put on at that time by training with the other commanders.

"I hope as soon as possible, you two will get along just fine." Ace said kissing you on the forehead.

"Avoid them early in the morning or do them in private." Satch threw himself on you two, holding you warmly and Ace with a little more strength.

He hadn’t gotten used to the idea of you two. Or rather, she still didn’t want to accept the fact that her little sister had found a boyfriend and had grown up as a woman.

"Satch!" You both called him and laughed at each other.

"Little sister! You must come here now!" The voice of one of Dad’s nurses distracted you for a moment and allowed you to remember the commitment you made with them.

"I have to go, see you at lunch, Ace." You said by getting out of Satch’s grips and kissing Ace on the lips, you went to the nurses to help them with the inventory for the medicine.

"See you after Love." Ace said earning an increase in strength in Satch’s iron grip.

"What did you do Ace! Before he greeted me too, now only you exist!" Satch was playing the exasperated, overprotective older brother.

"Satch isn’t just our little sister anymore, she’s Ace now." Izo had slapped him on the shoulder and laughed, he was the most normal of all.

"ACE!" But Ace had turned into a flame and slipped away, had taken a fast sandwich and had gone out at great strides: "I’m going to show Dad the size of Luffy." and he had gone away among the other companions.

"These young people of today."

"Satch we all know that you want to go back to their age stop." Marco had said by hitting the chef with the newspaper. The room was soon filled with laughter over laughter.

The hours had passed quickly and you the girls had decided to take a short break with the tea that you love brought a few minutes before.

"Today I did not have time to read the newspaper, have you seen the photos?"

"What photos?" You asked closing the notebook of your notes. You had to make a large supply of medicines at the next landing.

"Shanks the Red! Look here, little sister." His size had arrived in front of you and you couldn’t help but say that the photographer in question had been very good at capturing the close-up of Shanks' face.

"There’s a whole picture in the paper."

All the girls rushed to see him and soon began to sigh.

"Have you seen what a man he is?!"

"The scar looks great on him! When I would give to kiss him."

"Just kiss her? Honey, I could do anything with this man."

And then the comments started to arrive, you were used to it and you weren’t shocked.

"But the L rule? This man absolutely spoils it!"

"Of course."

L rule? Now what were they inventing at that time? Your sisters were pretty gossip about sex and most things and you had learned by listening to them.

"Sis, what do you think?"

"Me? Hmm, Shanks is a handsome, mature man, maybe he can do a lot of things... even though he’s missing an arm." You answered by looking at the photo. No, he wasn’t ugly at all, he was handsome and dangerous, he was still an emperor.

Maybe you shouldn’t have made such a strong comment, also because the girls had gone crazy and you got caught between gossip and shrieks of euphoria for that detail of the missing arm that generated allusion without any censorship for all the time that the newspaper was opened and for every photo that came from there to little, All this lasted until lunchtime when you finally got out because you had your date with Ace.

And there too there were comments. You would have wanted to kill them for what they told you, they needed a man in their life, a good one to satisfy them to avoid things like that.

You wouldn’t have expected, as you walked, to be grabbed by the arm and brought into Ace’s room.

Ace had just kidnapped you and shut your mouth, his look didn’t promise anything good, he seemed to be pissed.

God, what happened? What did Satch do? Did he say too much?

You tried to say something, but Ace’s hand was pressing on your lips, and what came out was just a bunch of wadding sounds.

"Why is that?" she asked, looking straight into your eyes.

What the hell he was talking about.

"I heard you with Dad’s nurses." He then said by locking the door behind you and releasing your mouth but not the arms that were anchored to the door.

"Ace what do you want..." You realized shortly after what Ace was talking about and you were speechless.

You did not expect to see Ace so jealous, in short, everyone knows that Shanks is a big deal and you spontaneously said it while chatting with other nurses of Dad (they also gave you right) Now you find yourself on the wall with your hands pinned over you by Ace: "So that guy with his Stump could give you the same pleasure that I give you?"

Fuck.

He’s jealous as hell.

"What are you thinking, Ace!" You said trying to free yourself. Or you would have fixed it properly, starting from those soft cheeks that he found himself, as he dared only think that you would bang Shanks the red, He could be your real biological father for how long you deferred age had.

Ace weighed you down and carried you on his bed, tying your hands with his red pearl necklace. If you wanted to stop him, you could have freed yourself easily, that’s what he wanted to tell you with his gesture.

"Ace... Honey listen, we were just chatting with the girls. It’s obvious that I prefer making love to you than to Shanks!" You told him to jump off the mattress and face him right in the eye.

"Sorry, and that... I overheard the comments and I don’t know what got into me." In the end, Ace wasn’t angry, like he could be with you, but he felt such jealousy while you were talking about the emperor and he got a little carried away.

You smiled at him, rubbing his nose with his and he kissed you passionately until brought back on the mattress.

"But still, I can give you more pleasure than that." It had become a matter of principle.

You laughed softly while you hooked your legs to his and kissed him again.

"I don’t know, why don’t you show me?" You deliberately provoked him, because you liked his possessive and dominant side in some situations, but you loved his sweet and passionate side.

Ace took the challenge on the fly, grinning and starting to kiss your neck, biting a little bit harder into the soft skin and leaving a showy mark on your white neck. Her hands slipped on your blouse that was opened without too much ceremony revealing the swimsuit that you were wearing as a bra that day, a piece with two small triangles that did not cover even a quarter of your busty breasts.

Ace looked at you with a slightly more perverted smirk and you brushed against him in response.

"Did you have an appointment with someone?" He whispered to you in your ear, her warm breath gave you little chills of pleasure.

"Who knows, maybe you, maybe not." You answered by holding back a groan when her hand pulled off a triangle of your costume to tightly squeeze the breasts underneath it. You found yourself standing on the side with your hands still tied by the necklace, staring at the bedroom door while Ace was behind you.

You settled back with your hips and felt his presence touching your butt and a groan came out of your lips.

God, he was hard and big.

Ace smiled at you as he bit your neck and another groan left your lips, he was playing dirty, so dirty because he went to get your sensitive points.

"Aceee..." His name was the only thing you could say when you heard her never touch your breasts and play with them. Your boobs were taken, squeezed, lifted, rubbed against her rough palms, and not to mention her nipples, Ace knew they were your weak spot, so weak.

He had pinched them a little with his fingertips and they had become hard in a short time, you needed more attention but they were slow to arrive.

You protested in the kiss he gave you by turning your neck and slightly pulling your hair.

And then he went down to kiss your breasts and other moans came out of your mouth when he started sucking one nipple hard and squeezing the other between the middle finger and index finger while his other hand was going down to your shorts to get him out of the way.

You pulled him by the hair to cut yourself some slack, but Ace bit you harder, leaving his teeth marks around your reddened halo.

A trickle of saliva still connected it to your nipple.

"You’re a brat." You said pulling his hair again, with your hands stuck, you couldn’t do anything else, you could only scratch his back.

"You provoke me so much love, you need to be punished for talking about another man and not just me." Jealous, he was jealous of you and your thoughts.

He kissed you thoughtfully as his pants and boxers reached your clothing on the ground, along with your shoes.

And now you’re standing there, under him in just a costume and a blouse that won’t last much longer, while his erection is pressing against your entrance.

And Ace at that point took more time to act, going down with your fingertips along your hips and scratching and biting them properly, until you get to the laces of the white costume you were wearing.

You were soaked you could see it from the stain that had been created and on which his cock pressed hard.

"Aceeee...." You called his name again eager to continue.

Your fiancé smiled devilishly as he turned you upside down, you ended up on your belly, your ass on deck, and his hands wandering on your ass and your back.

"Who has only one arm could do this?" He asked you while with one hand he squeezed your breast and with the other he penetrated you to prepare. You saw and stars at that time and your scream of pleasure was the best answer for Ace, he prepared you for a while, until he established that you were quite lubed up.

"I can go on or you can’t go on anymore." He asked, kissing your shoulder and bringing your arm to support your pelvis. You haven’t done it that way yet.

"I can go on." You responded by rubbing your sex on his erection and snatching a moan of pleasure, that was your own little victory.

And then Ace didn’t hesitate, he squeezed your hips hard, and he came in with one push in you.

You squeezed the sheets until your fingers whitened so as not to scream too loud and crash half the ship into your cabin.

Ace kissed your back, your shoulders, your neck and rubbed you on your clitoris to make you feel better so you could get used to him. It burned worse than before, maybe because it was a new pose that allowed him to touch deeper points that you didn’t even know you had.

"Can I?" He asked you, whispering in your ear, and then his tender side emerged again to lull and cuddle you.

You nodded by pushing your hips back against him and biting the pillow because your notes had touched shades you didn’t think you would reach. Ace supported you by starting to move slowly within you, at a slow pace to allow you to get used to it, he held you by the right side, while with his left hand he crept back in and your folds to give you more pleasure.

You started to indulge him after a while when your inner walls got better used to his presence and his urges started to get deeper and more confused.

You were dangerously close to the edge, you could feel it from his heartbeat and how Ace had bent over you, resting his chin on your shoulder and pushing deeper and deeper.

"Only you can give me a pleasure like this." You whispered in his ear when the last push came that allowed you to come together.

The bed was a mess of displaced blankets and your liquids, you stayed in that position for a while, until you found a minimum of strength and lucidity. Ace separated from you, getting rid of his column and putting it back around his neck, drew you into a warm, sweaty hug, getting rid of your now-ruined shirt and swimsuit.

And Ace had started to pamper you like only he could, caresses, scratches, little kisses on the skin.

You smeared yourself on him at one point, you on top and he on the bottom and started playing with his rebellious ebony clumps.

"Ace what the L rule?" You asked out of the blue.

"You really don’t know?" Ace was a bit surprised because he knew that the old man’s nurses were gossips to death and laughed heartily as he began to explain that infamous rule: "Those who are tall have small, while those who are short are very gifted." He explained by showing you the two ways of getting L with index and thumb.

"Then you dispelled the myth." You said as you grabbed his hand and kissed him.

Your Ace turned red for that statement but at the same time he was struck by a rush of pride that prompted him to kiss you again.

You both laughed, cuddling a little bit more, until you both remembered lunch with everyone else.

"Oh my God, we’re not gonna be okay today." You said jumping in the air and running into Ace’s bathroom to check for bites and hickeys, that was a lot.

"We could always sneak into the kitchen and get food on the sly." Ace said as he reached out and grabbed his hips.

Two shots to the door made you turn, before this was opened by a kick of Satch.

Or if you were dead.

"So it’s lunch time and we all eat together!" The cook said, looking at you and closing the door a second later, "Have the decency to cover yourself, not to keep us waiting and to be a little more discreet."

And nothing would save you from the gossip you thought while you were quickly recovering clothes to wear from Ace’s closet.

"Little sister but that..."

"Izo please it’s not the time." You told your brother you could cover your neck with your hair.

"We hadn’t seen Ace in a shirt in a long time." The long black-haired man whispered to you, bringing a hand to chuckle, while Ace took yours to calm you down. Satch’s screams were heard all over the ship.

And the whole thing had happened by a simple allusion to a stump, you thought while crossing the threshold of the dining room as if nothing had happened.

#one piece #one piece x reader #portgas ace smut #portgas d ace smut #portgas d ace #ace smut #ace x oc #ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas d ace x reader #portugas d ace #one piece smut #ace x you #portogasdace #ace x y/n #smut #Happy_Ely🪷#❤️‍🔥

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klausbens · 8 months

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writober 2023 | DAY TWO · stump

Buggy is many things. The Clown, the Flashy Fool, the Genius Jester. A trainwreck waiting to happen, a bomb about to go off, always a step away from something that could either ruin him or make him whole again—or both, in no particular order. He’s abrasive, determined, rough around the edges, but he knows how to show people a good time. When he wants to. If he feels like it.

Buggy is many things, yes, and considerate is not one of them. He acts first, thinks later. Touches first, asks never. So that’s what he does now, with Shanks—he reaches out to grab at his stump, a mad glint in his blue eyes.

Part of him is expecting the other half of his arm to fly back to its owner, like his does all the time. Part of him hopes it will. Yet, it doesn’t. Shanks’ stump is just a stump, and there is no making it into something else.

And Buggy needs to know who.

Not who did this to him, that is irrelevant—at least for now. What Buggy needs to know is who was important enough for Shanks to lose an arm over. And after he knows, though he’ll never, ever ask, he needs to take them out himself.

Shanks doesn’t shake him off. As unnerving as ever, he simply waits for Buggy to be done. Lets him do whatever he needs to. He doesn’t wince or grimace as Buggy runs his fingers along freshly-healed skin. Instead, he looks at him with that unbearable, fond smile of his, the one that makes Buggy want to crawl out of his body.

A while later Buggy falls asleep against his chest, hating himself and Shanks and the whole entire world. He misses the weight of Shanks’ arms around him, keeping all of his pieces together as if the Chop Chop Fruit had never taken them apart.

When he wakes up to an empty bed, as per usual, Buggy hates even more fiercely. He hates, detests, loathes. He swears he’ll never fall for it again, knows without the shadow of a doubt that he will, and supposes that stump will come in handy then as well.

One less limb to worry about disentangling.

One less limb to greedily keep to himself until their next meeting.

One less limb for Buggy to feel around the mattress for, eyes closed and unseeing, heart full, heavy and ever so slightly more broken.

#writober2023 #shuggy #buggy the clown #red haired shanks #shanks x buggy #opla #one piece #one piece live action #writober #frankie writes

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vulcan-bourbon · 8 months

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writober 2023

Day 8 - Recklessness

— What’s the most reckless thing you could do for me? — Grian said thoughtfully, looking at his beloved guys sitting next to him.

Scar and Mumbo looked at each other.

Mumbo looked at Scar with the eyes of a man who had worked all night. His black suit, hair and even his mustache were covered with a thin coating of red dust, which shimmered in the weak light of day, making Jumbo, with his pale skin, resemble a vampire.

Scar sat in his green robes as an elf prince, running his fingers through his long brown hair and twirling it around his fingers. Emerald eyes full of wisdom and catastrophism at the same time, and a sly smile on her lips.

- What would you like, my dear bird? – Scar drawled sweetly, turning his gaze to Grian and resting his chin on his palm.

- Something reckless! — Avian’s eyes light up with a playful fire.

— Explosion of the entire server? - says Mumbo thoughtfully. — Xisuma will kill us.

- It is naive to think that our personal catastrophism will not want something that could cause us problems later. - Scar laughs in response.

- Let's marry each other! - Grian suddenly says, jumping on the spot and looking from one guy to another.

Mumbo blushes in response, not expecting such a turn, and Scar laughs loudly:

— I wouldn’t say it’s reckless, but why not.

// english is not my native language, I hope for your understanding,,,,,,,,,,,

#writober2023 #mumscarian #gtwscar #grian mcyt #mcytblr #mcyt #mcyt mumbo #mumbo jumbo #desert duo #scarian #mumscar #the buttercup’s #maybe #lukaniel writes

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watercolorfreckles · 2 years

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Writober Prompts 2022

Hi! I was looking for Writober prompts to cherrypick from this year (im not capable of writing something every day lol but want to write something spooky this year!) and i couldnt really find anything. So i made one!

Anyone is free to use this! Please tag me if you do, so that I can see what you make!! You can use this as a one-per-day thing (now that its almost oct 6th, sorryyy) or just pick the ones you like.

I'd love to use it as an ask game! So send in a number to my inbox, and if I get an idea for it, I'll write it!

Have fun getting spoopy.

General Taglist: @pinned-to-the-wahl , @valiantlytransparentwhispers , @distance-does-not-matter , @redbircl , @lilaccatholic , @crazytwentythrees , @thelazywitchphotographer , @chibicelloking , @lolafaiy , @thinkwrite5 , @putridghost , @tobeornottobeateacher , @sunflower1000 , @bouncyartist , @feyriddle , @yet-another-heathen , @silverwhisperer1 , @distractedlydistracted , @pensivespacepirate , @appleejuicee , @deflated-bouncingball @maybe-a-cat42 , @m0chik0furan , @mercurymomentum , @fairysprinkless , @vuvulia , @amongtheonedaisy , @rose-pinkie , @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room , @scorpio-smiles , @inkygemuwu , @wolfeyedwitch , @thewhumpmeisterx3000 , @ikiiryo , @moonquires , @lem-hhn , @fanastywhump , @smallangryfish , @ladybookworm , @freefallingup13 , @acaiaforrest , @a-blue-comedy , @puppyaddict , @a-person-who-likes-musicals , @talkingsperm , @qualitychaoslover , @deckofaces ,@7eselt

#Writober #writober 2022 #writetober #halloween #scary prompts #prompts #spooky prompts #inktober #october prompts #vampire #siren #horror #horror prompts #writeblr #hero x villain #heroes and villains #writers of tumblr

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undreaming-fanfiction · 2 years

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Bewitching Garden

Spooky Steddie Writober Day 1

Ever since the Upside Down crept into Hawkins and started spreading its tendrils through once peaceful neighbourhoods, most residents packed what they could and left. The rest was either too economically unstable to leave the literal end of the world (what a thought), or they clung to the thin, nearly transparent hope that things would get better, that the hole to hell itself would magically close up and the screeching, vibrating sounds from the woods around Hawkins would just cease one day. So yes, everyone who had the option and half a brain left the cursed town behind for good.

Steve Harrington wasn't as lucky. He was no optimist, life taught him enough, and despite what everyone thought, he was smart enough to understand there was no future here. But he had made his choice three years ago, when he rushed into the former Byers house and swung a bat full of nails at a creature from nightmares. After the so-called earthquake hit, his parents spent whole two minutes trying to persuade him to come with them (or to them, they weren't coming back, of course), but Steve knew, deep down, that this was it for him. There was no future outside of Hawkins either, no white collar job, no pretty girl with a radiant smile and warm embrace. There was only this, charred remains of a small town, toxic fumes, blood and death, sobs of children who had to grow up too soon, who had seen things no one should have seen.

No one went outside until they absolutely had to anymore. Nothing has invaded the town yet, but with the recent murders, the earthquake and cult rumors, streets were empty. There were grey particles floating in the air, not feeling as nauseating as the ones in the pure Upside Down, but they were getting stronger. But Steve needed out. He couldn't sleep, the lines on his wallpaper reminding him of prison, except now they had finally tossed away the key and left him there for good. He knew he made that choice, theoretically, but he wondered if he ever had any other option. His fingers instinctively reached for the spiked bat that had ironically become his signature weapon, his only comfort in this madness, and he walked out the door.

The town was quiet and mostly dark, wiring too damaged by the portals to provide a steady supply of electricity. Steve didn't mind the darkness, the quiet. The others might call his night stroll a death wish, and perhaps it was, but in the moonlight twisted by red shadows of the brewing storm, he felt even more alone than ever. Yes, everyone was panicking, planning their next move, but they were also together, sharing the weight of the bleak future and all the losses that led them to this point. Steve had no one, no one that would belong only to him, and he would never intrude where he would never belong.

He could say this was a patrol, but that would be a lie. He had one place in mind, stupid, really, but his feet had a mind of their own and led him to the park, to one of the remaining flower beds. It was still early spring, not much to see, but some stubborn plants already pushed through the hardened soil towards the sun. At least a week ago they had. Now they were grey, brittle, taken way too soon. Just like so many were and will be. Like Eddie.

Everything was dying, trees were losing their leaves, grass was disintegrating. It seemed that this would be the last spring the world would ever have. "I wonder if I'll ever see flowers again," he mumbled and sat down on the bench.

You know the only kind of flower that blooms in the Upside Down, Steve. White and grey, five red petals. So vibrant, so beautiful. I can't wait to show you what I have in store. A whole garden, only for you.

The voice was not there, not really, but Steve felt it reverberating in his bones, the deep growl freezing his blood cold. He had never heard it before, but he knew. Vecna. Henry. Number one. His hand gripped the bat with enough force to hurt, but Steve didn't care. He had been in many fights, Billy, Jonathan, the Russians, all the monsters, but he had never felt the urge to kill. Until now.

Your town will fall, Steve. It will fall and you and your friends will nourish my flowers. They will bloom as you watch your world crumble.

Steve sprung to his feet, unable to sit still any longer. Finally having someone to blame for all the terror, all the death, lost lives, childhoods and innocence, all of it flooded his brain with adrenaline. But there was no one to strike, no physical body. "You talk tough for someone who got burnt to a crisp," he spat through his gritted teeth. "Come on then. What are you waiting for? Not fit enough to snap my bones or send another horde of your pets at me?"

Vecna's laughter was low and heavy, rumbling in Steve's skull. I am waiting for the harvest, Steve. I am waiting for all of you to be ripe for picking, for your minds to be flooded by hopelessness, anger. For any and all hope you feel to get extinguished. And then...I will feast.

"God, he never shuts up, does he?"

He knew that voice. He knew that lanky frame, that untamed wavy hair, that fidgety smile, those dark eyes. The voice in Steve's mind went quiet and, with a pang of inexplicable anger, disappeared.

Eddie Munson, covered in dried blood and half-healed wounds, stopped in front of Steve and gave him a mock salute. "How've you been, big boy?" he smiled and his teeth were shiny and sharp. "I'm afraid the flowers will have to wait, but maybe my pretty face will do?"

The bat fell from Steve's grip with a clang and he stumbled towards Eddie, too lost for words. He gripped the bloodied shreds of the Hellfire Club t-shirt and pulled its dungeon master into a crushing hug. "...yeah. It will do, Munson. Who needs flowers anyway," he choked into his hair as Eddie returned the embrace.

"Careful, Steve," and Eddie was patting Steve's heaving shoulders, calming motions and gentle circles on his skin. "You don't know what I am. Vecna's illusion, a Munson-shaped Demogorgon, I could be anything. You're too trusting."

It turns out Steve really did have a death wish, because even with this proclamation, he didn't let go, ignored the smell of dirt, stale blood and toxic spores. "I'm pretty sure I know what you are, Eddie," he whispered as he took a deep breath, the first real breath after so many days. "You're a miracle."

#spooky steddie writober #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie fanfiction #strangerthings #stranger things fanfiction #strangerthingsfanfiction #strangerthingsdrabble #stranger things drabble #kas eddie munson #angsty-ish #but I'm a sap so hey #let's see where this goes

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heart-ephemeral · 2 years

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Mirror - Monstober Day 1: Doll Riddle X Reader

Warnings: Riddle's Mom is a jerk, Riddle is deprived of any friends, Riddle has no idea how to control the numerous emotions he has.

You/Your and (___) used for Reader

It sort of tells the beginning of my Writober story.

There isn't really any romance in this prompt.

Sort of edited

Riddle had been stuck in his chair for so long with very little to do. The only thing he could do was the work his mother would bring him, and stare at the mirror of his vanity. Its glass gave him a picture of what he looked like, and the relief he had that he didn't have his rotten flesh anymore. Instead his new body was covered in stitches that held his flesh together.

One day as he peered into his reflected grey eyes, he saw a hand on the other side of the mirror. He shot back and his upper body pressed firmly into the back of the chair, as the limb extended almost touching Riddle's face.

"What?" A person exited out of the mirror, landing on the ground and some of Riddle's lap. "Who are you?" Riddle demanded, pushing you off his lap.

"Where am I?" You asked, glancing up at the boy. "Who are you?"

"I should be asking that. What spell were you casting? You must be a crappy mage if all you do is go through mirrors."

You leap to your feet and gripped Riddle by his shoulders.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Riddle's face tightened and turned red. He huffed, slapping your hands off of himself.

"I asked you what your name is! Rule #87 says-"

"Okay! Okay! My name is (______). Now what's your name?" Riddle sighed.

"My name is Riddle Roseheart. You currently are in the Queendom of Roses."

"Queendom of Roses? You know what, I'm not going to question it." You said, placing a hand against your temple. Gazing at the boy, glancing at his elbow.

"What?" Riddle snapped.

"Why do you have a thread there?" You pointed at it.

"I am a doll, why?" He stated like it was the obvious.

"....Wow…" Thoughts ran in your head, none of them hitting that line. You watched Riddle place his head on the vanity.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting down next to him. Riddle sighed.

“Everything hasn’t been going well for me. The only good thing right now is that I’m a doll now.”

“What do you mean by everything? Does it have something to do with that chair?”

“Yeah,” his voice was softer when he answered.

“Are you stuck in that chair? Why?” you asked. Riddle placed his hands on his head. He groaned before sitting up, his face was red and met your eyes.

“I am stuck! I can’t move my legs! No matter how hard I’ve tried,” his eyes watered. “And it’s all her fault.”

“Her? Her who?” You asked. Riddle placed his head in his arms. He remained silent. You stared up at him, before looking down at the red carpet.

"Sorry for pressing you, it's none of my business." Riddle sighed.

"No, I need to get this off my chest," he paused. "The one who did this is my mother."

"What!" You jumped to your feet. You walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to beat up that bi-"

"(___)!"

#twisted wonderland x reader #Riddle X Reader #Doll Riddle X Reader #Monstober #Monster Twisted Wonderland #twisted wonderland #TWST x reader #twst x Reader

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honey-tongued-devil · 2 years

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⤝Writober - Week ⤞

[NdA]

Okay, small change! In order to not create excessive spam, I decided to manage the writober in a more orderly way. On ao3 I will post the stories day by day, then report them in a single post the whole week on Tumblr!

Day 1: Silco x f!reader Day 2: Ekko x f!reader, Day 3: Jayce x gn!reader, Day 4: Viktor x gn!reader, Day 5: Marcus x gn!reader, Day 6: Vander x gn!reader Day 7: Sevika x gn!reader

▶Writober Day 1 “This is the sign you’ve been looking for” [Silco]

↠English is not my first language ↠No use of "y/n", fem reader ↠TW: SFW, implied violence, implied romantic relationship ↠Character/s: fem reader, Silco, Sevika, Finn, chem barons ↠wc: 1.1k

The devil smiles, ruthless, letting the lips marked by time and hate barely uncover the chipped teeth.

You remain motionless, impassive, while the chem barons swallow loudly to that unexpected and out-of-place reaction from the man: Sevika quickly looks at you moving her gaze only, taking advantage of their distraction to check on you, and you don’t know exactly if she fears that you can do something inappropriate or if she’s simply uncomfortable since she usually acts alone, but you try to don’t give it too much importance. You know you have to be docile.

"So I wonder, why do you insist on wasting my time?" Silco places his palms on the table surface, leaning slightly forward, letting his voice warm as a caress and sharp as a blade reach everyone in a clear way, in a veiled threat.

His two-tone eyes scrutinize one by one the faces of the twelve present sitting at the table, with the security and superiority worthy of a king without a crown, aware that in that haughty room of power-hungry cowards no one will dare answer.

Yet, despite the tension has saturated the air, you cannot help but feel on the skin the icy and judgemental gaze of some who sits at the table; someone who despite the drastic situation finds time to wonder about who you are: they probably think they’re gonna get out of that room alive, which is why they’re mentally preparing to take you as an hostage or as a blackmail source.

And it’s a probability that you took into account when you agreed to be an accomplice in that meeting, certain that if you really are a weakness for Zaun’s Kingpin then presenting yourself to them meant being the face of the conviction.

No one speaks, only the man sitting at the head of the table on the opposite side of the room seems to exempt himself from the air of fear that the mere presence of Silco brings to the room: he plays carelessly with a lighter, turning it between his fingers, following it with his eyes, covering and uncovering the flame with its golden lid.

If hubris had a face, its irises would be green and its skin covered with ink.

"You know, the girl behind you is really pretty, Silco." His voice breaks the silence like a bolt from the blue, making your heart jump in your chest. Insolent. Self-centered. Devoid of common sense. You’re pretty sure that the one who just opened his mouth is Finn.

"Yet, she seems rather delicate to be a henchman. Is she your collaborator? Your secretary? Or maybe..." He goes on, his voice takes on a mocking note, slightly sharper as if he had to hold a laugh.

Sevika stiffens while the man involved seems not to be disturbed by his arrogance, nor by the transparent provocation. Rather, he straightens his back and raises an arm, inviting you to approach with a gesture of his hand.

"Oh, I see. Are you interested in her?"

"I can’t believe how a sick old man like you has so many pretty faces around"

You get closer to Silco, the sense of nausea grows more and more.

You wouldn’t know exactly if it’s the anxiety, the awareness of how slimy every single rat in that room is, or the absolutely disgusting way the raven-haired man looks at you, but you decide not to investigate more.

Silco puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it imperceptibly as if to reassure you that that pitiful show is about to come to an end.

And you will never admit it aloud but it’s not describable in words how attractive is the way he doesn’t waver even to so stupid but objective provocations: it’s not the wrinkles around the eyes nor the scarring that disfigures the face to make him feel at fault; he certainly knows there are younger and more attractive people out there than an old man who’s irretrievably disfigured, but that’s not his problem.

Probably Finn himself knows that it’s useless to try to attack the physical appearance of a man who grew up in the Sump, but you’re almost sure that he intends to use something so irrelevant to make him not only feel insecure but even humiliated.

And God alone is a witness to how pathetic he is as he shrugs lightly as if his foolish words had to trigger who knows what reaction.

Silco lets go of your shoulder and lightly runs two fingers along your spine and Finn makes his gaze dart towards a woman sitting on his right.

This is the sign you’ve been looking for.

You were warned by Sevika that at the table sat the one who wanted to betray the Kingpin, but there was no certainty if Iscariot was alone or in league with someone. For that reason, as a total outsider, you were asked to attend that meeting that was requested with a little too much urgency.

Your rule, as a hunter, wasn’t only to find out who would betray him, but also with them who, in search of power, would turn their back on the man.

You approach the man with the golden jaw and drop a bag on the table that, when it hits the wood, lets out gold coins.

He looks up perplexed, first at you, then at Silco.

"What does it mean"

"That’s 30 gold coins." You try not to let out any emotion as you speak, and it’s almost ridiculous how your heart does somersaults in your chest when you notice it out of the corner of your eye in Silco’s small grin.

Finn snaps to his feet and slams his hands on the table, stupid and embarrassing exactly as he were described to you: the moment he’s unable to understand something he screams and wiggles like an toddler.

He screams words that you ignore, intent on accomplishing your only task. With one hand you reach for his face to turn it towards you, and before he can grab your wrist to break contact you leave him a quick kiss; then, you place a nail in front of the woman, looking into her eyes without hiding the sadistic vein that accompanies your action.

You have exactly fourteen seconds to get back behind Silco, fourteen seconds before the ruckus breaks out and that room, that until a few moments before was shrouded in silence, turns into hell on earth.

Some understand your signal and get up, others blink their eyes in confusion, others still turn looking for an escape or shelter, while Silco offers you a hand, closing your fingers between his and the palm, leaving a light kiss on the knuckles in a gesture that finally breaks the mask of coldness and tears you a smile.

"You did so good" is just a whisper, but you can’t help but giggle as you squeeze yourself between your shoulders as you leave the door behind.

The devil smiles, ruthless, letting the lips marked by time and hate barely uncover the chipped teeth.

If hubris had a face, its irises would be green and its skin covered with ink.

"Yet, she seems rather delicate to be a henchman. Is she your collaborator? Your secretary? Or maybe..." He goes on, his voice takes on a mocking note, slightly sharper as if he had to hold a laugh.

"Oh, I see. Are you interested in her?"

"I can’t believe how a sick old man like you has so many pretty faces around"

You get closer to Silco, the sense of nausea grows more and more.

Silco puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it imperceptibly as if to reassure you that that pitiful show is about to come to an end.

And God alone is a witness to how pathetic he is as he shrugs lightly as if his foolish words had to trigger who knows what reaction.

Silco lets go of your shoulder and lightly runs two fingers along your spine and Finn makes his gaze dart towards a woman sitting on his right.

This is the sign you’ve been looking for.

Your rule, as a hunter, wasn’t only to find out who would betray him, but also with them who, in search of power, would turn their back on the man.

You approach the man with the golden jaw and drop a bag on the table that, when it hits the wood, lets out gold coins.

He looks up perplexed, first at you, then at Silco.

"What does it mean"

"You did so good" is just a whisper, but you can’t help but giggle as you squeeze yourself between your shoulders as you leave the door behind.

▶Writober Day 2 “We wanted to be the sky” [Ekko]

↠English is not my first language ↠No use of "y/n", fem reader ↠TW: SFW, kinda fluff, romantic, a bit angst ↠Character/s: fem reader,Ekko, Scar ↠wc: 1.1k

Your eyes struggle to stay open, sleep makes eyelids heavy, and staying awake is suddenly the most difficult task in the world. It was undoubtedly a heavy week: there were toxic spills in the Sump, a couple of raids by the enforces in the Entresol, and even three firelights seriously injured which you had to rescue. I mean, you giggle between you and you, you’ve definitely earned a little rest.

You feel Ekko’s strong arms pick you up and make you do a little hop so he can grab you better, more firmly, and it’s absurd how all the noises are muffled except for his heartbeat: the boy’s heart is wriggling in his chest like a dragonfly in a cage, it seems ready to break his ribs to get out, you can almost feel it hit against your cheek, furious.

You know how much he loves to carry you in his arms like that, he does it often, and every single time he adds that remark that never fails to make you laugh: "I train for the day I marry you".

You hide your face against his chest, squeezing what little you can to gather a minimum of heat while the temperatures of the underground city suddenly drop. You can’t even imagine how cold he’s since he even took off his coat to wrap you with it. God, you always believed that being born in that sewer of the underground city was a curse before knowing him.

But to this day, if you had to choose between seeing the sun every day or having to crawl in the Sump for the rest of your life, you would always choose the dirty air of your native land if it meant being with him, with the firelights, with your people.

"We’re almost there, hold still." his voice is broken, perhaps from the wind that slams in his face, so strong that his eyes are filled with tears.

"Are you going to marry me?" you speak softly, your voice is feeble but you know he hears it because he squeezes you even more to himself in response, nodding with his eyes tightened. You giggle, but you have to stop immediately when you feel a shooting pain in the belly.

But you’re kinda used to it, it’s quite inevitable for the place you live: you’re all full of bruises and scars, it always hurts everywhere for how many times you fall from overboard, buildings, or roll on the ground during fights and training. You just have to follow the procedure, breathe slowly to get the pain over, and he keeps running as much as possible.

"I’ll marry you now, I swear."

And you find yourself wringing your lips slightly in a smile, closing your eyes, and squeezing even closer to him.

"We get to the lair and I’ll marry you, and I'm gonna carry you in my arms..." his voice stops, and you don’t quite understand the verse that follows, maybe he slammed? A muffled sigh, before he keeps talking "...like a princess, and I’ll show everyone how beautiful my wife is." his wife. You may already be getting used to it.

"Say it again..."

"My wife"

"Once again..."

"My wife. My wife. My wife" his wife.

"I like how it sounds. From today I’ll officially be your wife. And you… you’ll be my husband."

Your neck hurts, as so does your head, and the cold is always sharper, but opening your eyes you begin to recognize the ‘sky’ above your head, now close to that place you call home. You can’t believe it, who knows if he was serious. You wonder if once you get there he really is going to marry you, I mean, it was an odd way to propose, but his voice didn’t sound like a joking person's.

But when you finally get there, instead of smiling, he screams at the top of his lungs.

Scream so loud and desperate you get goosebumps.

He asks for help, yelling so much that he loses his voice. He falls to his knees, but you don’t get hurt, no, even blinded by despair his first thought goes to you, he covers you with his body as if he wanted to protect you from everything. And he cries.

He’s so happy to finally marry you that he cries as his life depends on it.

You don’t really understand what people are saying, and in all honesty, you find it hard to distinguish their faces because of sleep; someone pushes Ekko away and you try to get up but the limbs don’t respond, probably numb from the cold. Damn, and to think that this morning you were even sweating!

"It’s all right, hold on" Scar whispers caressing your face, someone rips your shirt off, and you feel warm water soaking your chest in an unexpectedly relaxing sensation. Thinking becomes more and more difficult, everything turns, everything is confused, but you trust them. It must be a strange custom of firelights, you think. Some kind of preparation for the bride.

"you know..." your voice is hoarse, the taste that reminds you of iron is getting stronger and stronger in your throat, and it’s disgusting. "Ekko and I are getting married."

Scar grits his teeth, probably he wanted to hear it from his best friend, but you need to say it out loud to feel it more real.

"We are getting married, and he promised me..." your chest hurts "that he will carry me all over the lair, to show everyone how beautiful his wife is." Just laugh, your head spins.

"When we were younger we wanted to be the sky. I know, it doesn’t seem to make sense, but the sky was huge, it was beautiful, it was boundless. And we wanted to be like that. We ran to Piltover to look at the clouds. But as I got older, I realized that if the sky equals freedom, my sky is here. I don’t have to climb the rooftops to reach it." You smile weakly at Scar, sleep is becoming really unbearable but you’re embarrassed to admit that despite how excited you are your eyes are struggling to stay open. You are tired, your eyes are tired, your voice is tired.

You just want to sleep.

"I can’t believe it" you see them moving their mouths, they seem to talk but you can’t hear any sound, just annoying static noise. You don’t even know if you’re just thinking or talking out loud at this point. "We’re getting married. We’re finally getting married".

Your eyes close.

And everything fades black.

▶Writober Day 3 “I can't explain and I won't even try” [Jayce]

↠English is not my first language ↠No use of "y/n", gn reader(no pronouns used) ↠TW: SFW, fluff, romantic,domestic, babygirl Jayce ↠Character/s: gn reader, Jayce Talis ↠wc: about 1 k

Working for the Kirammans has its pros and cons, no doubt.

Sure, you come home late, maybe drenched to the bone, but it pays well -and Tobias is such a sweetheart, he feels guilty when you finish your shift too late, so he always makes sure to give you some delicacies and often he offers to give you a ride home.

And your home, in turn, has its undeniable charm: it isn’t too excessive but it’s warm enough to allow you to breathe a sigh of relief when you enter. When outside it is particularly dark and cold, the main rooms are scattered with candles: a couple on the fireplace, at least five in the bathroom, three more in the kitchen… and the first to come back from their shift usually turn on both the heating and a stove, ready to boil milk for a cappuccino or a hot chocolate.

You get out of the car quickly and greet the man with your hand, he smiles in response and waits for you to enter the gate before starting the car and leaving. You know it’s an automatic gesture, probably dictated by fatherly instinct, but every single time it makes you feel an unexplained warm feeling in your chest, like safety.

But now you have no time for sentimentality, no, you’re finally at home. You can finally relax.

The last drops of rain, you think, then you’ll finally be warm.

The last drops of rain, you think as you press your finger on the doorbell.

The last drops of rain, you think when the latch snaps.

But when the door opens, you understand that that desire is as far as you can imagine: Jayce looks at you, seriously, the gray shirt he usually wears when he is at home is scorched, the soot dirty on his face and arms, in one hand he holds what appears to be the corpse of a cloth. You stare at him, and he looks back, in prolonged eye contact.

"I can’t explain and I don’t even try."

You nod. Excellent argument, no doubt.

You squeeze your eyes hard, filling your lungs with air until they almost burst into your chest. You put a hand on your temple, trying to assess how serious the situation in the house can be: it’s like a game between you and you, if you think about the worst possible scenarios you almost automatically will think 'I thought worse' when you actually see the disaster.

"So, what happened this time?" you sigh, closing the door behind you, and before the boy can talk, you clean a speck of soot from under his eye and take advantage of the situation to leave him a quick kiss, accompanied by a 'good evening anyway'.

"I was studying and..." the boy just gestures and shrugs.

"You got distracted?" he snorts in response, addressing his classic pout.

The living room isn’t that bad at the end of the day, just a little bit of soot on the curtains, some residue of burnt sheets on the ground, and fragments of what you imagine were glass vials on the tables and chairs.

You get the broom in the closet, and in the meantime give the boy instructions to open the windows and remove the curtains. In a few moments the air in the house becomes breathable again, but at the same time so cold to give you goosebumps: it doesn’t happen too often, but it is also not so rare that the carpets get dirty, the tablecloth burns, the walls blacken a little or the paintings fall off. You just got used to it, without getting angry or annoyed too much.

The carpets are taken to the laundry, the tablecloth is mended, the stains on the walls are cleaned, the paintings hung again and the windows reopened to make the room liveable again. You take a quick look out of the corner of your eye at Jayce, who’s obviously in a very bad mood, and you can’t help it but giggle.

"Oh, c'mon big boy. Nothing happened. Now let’s fix the living room and then take a nice warm bath" You approach him and put your hands on his chest, slowly sliding under the shirt. He whispers something incomprehensible about how he’s not angry at all, how he’s just annoyed by how a stupid distraction caused the accident this time and not an experiment, how he’s mortified because it’s cold and he knows it’s late and you’re tired, and so, so much more bullshits.

"I’m not angry, Jayce"

"I know, but I also know that-"

"Jayce"

"I know… but…"

"Let’s do this now: while I close the windows and change the tablecloth you go and prepare the hot water and towels. We deserved that. Okay?"

He nods but his expression doesn’t change, obviously consumed by guilt.

"Oh Jayce! Just one more thing!" he turns to look at you, putting his hand against the door frame.

"I love you."

He gasps loudly, opening his eyes wide, bites his lower lip embarrassed while his cheeks are get a bit hotter, and squeezes between his shoulders like a child who, on Christmas morning, doesn’t know how to react to the gift he was waiting for from a lifetime, even though you repeat those words every single day.

"I love you too"

And you giggle as you watch his mood suddenly improve, as he can’t help but smile as he goes back and forth between rooms.

▶Writober Day 4 “This is where the magic happens” [Viktor]

↠English is not my first language ↠No use of "y/n", gn reader ↠TW: SFW, fluff, implied romanticism, during the timeskip ↠Character/s: gn reader, Viktor ↠wc: 550 words

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" You stare at the guy in front of you, busy fiddling with a heavy brass padlock. He doesn’t respond immediately, intent on nibbling on the inside of the cheek concentrated: he slides his fingers on the metal surface rhythmically to understand the arrangement of the small weights inside the lock, in a gesture so natural that you’re almost ashamed when you feel the blood rising to your face.

"Absolutely..." a firm wrist movement. "...not."

Click.

The padlock opens with a small snap and the guy turns to look at you, the satisfied smile of those who haven't feared for a moment to fail in his intent. Viktor quickly stows the trinkets in a metal box -probably an old candy container- and opens the door of the workshop, turning a little friendly bow. You hesitate a few moments before stepping in, the dark room is illuminated only at some points by dim blue lights, such as clumsily fireflies hidden behind furniture and machinery of dubious nature.

The heavy door closes behind you and, in an almost mechanical gesture, the boy heads towards one of the light sources, lifting a rough, blue, small sphere that beats between the tapered fingers as if it was alive.

"This is where the magic happens."

He sticks the gem in a small hole covered with circuits and the whole room lights up with a strong, blue light. Immediately you feel the skin hit by a static feeling, the hair of the arms go straight and your hair, suddenly light, follows your movements with slowness. Viktor chuckles with a hand in his pocket, noddin at you when finally his hand meets the object he was looking for.

“Heads or tails?” He shows you a silver coin, then he flips it in the air, enjoying your expression the moment you realize it won’t come back in his hand.

"Is... isn’t there gravity?"

"It is not correct, gravity is still present. But it acts with such a meager force that it doesn’t affect bodies." He can’t help but smile, proud of that little workshop that for a year has turned into his second home. One by one he takes his fingers off the handle of the cane, giving himself a small push to rise in the air, with the nonchalance of those who have already done it a thousand times and another thousand will do it again.

"Aren’t you coming?"

"How?"

"Jump. Just jump."

And you do it. Your stomach tightens, your clothes lag behind your movements, your body suddenly seems to be swallowed by the void, and even if you try to move you can’t really do anything, soon finding yourself spinning without any dignity or control. The boy approaches and offers you a hand, holding onto a tube with the other one.

"This is embarrassing"

"It just takes some practice, c’mon. Hold onto me." And suddenly you feel like a child, desperately holding with both hands on Viktor’s arms, terrified that if he leaves you, you’ll get hurt.

But he doesn’t leave you. Instead, he puts his hands on your hips, and closes his eyes, enjoying the almost total absence of weight. You’re light. You’re alone.

Isolated from everything and everyone, in that small laboratory where magic is consumed.

▶Writober Day 5 “Sinners” [Marcus]

↠English is not my first language ↠No use of "y/n", gn reader ↠TW: Slightly NSFW, "dancer"!reader, slightly degradation kink, spit kink, Last drop? Brothel? Who knows ↠Character/s: gn reader, Marcus ↠wc: 578 words

The glass sprints in a single fluid movement through the entire counter, dressing with the colored lights of the room before finishing its short run in the gloved hand of the policeman, who, without any hesitation or delay, brings it to his lips.

The music is so loud that the bass resonates in the diaphragm and makes the liquids vibrate rhythmically in the bottles carefully arranged behind the counter, as in a collective and hypnotic dance able to overcome the fourth dimension. Everything in that place seems to transcend the human as if someone had managed to scratch a slice of hell inside a closed building.

The moans and sighs accompany the notes, coming from every corner of the room, where shameless lustful don’t deprive themselves of a macabre dance, hungry for the body and soul of each other. On the stage and the counter several figures move ambiguous and sensual, without any gender and race, as if they lived only for that moment, and you with them.

You make your hands run on your skin uncovered, the lips hatched ready to give lascivious smiles to those sinners who despairing crowd at your feet, praying for one moment of your attention.

Keep your eyes glued to that of the man, intent on enjoying the only time when you, a dirty little animal of the underground city, can look down from above not only some piltover but even a public official. You kneel before him without stopping to dance, fluid as a snake, only to observe him better in those eyes so dark that they seem to swallow every single glimmer of light.

He sweats.

Swallows.

And you wonder if he feels dirty, if he feels like he’s in a cage, if he realizes that he’s just your prey.

And he, like a good obedient child, doesn't say a word. You grab his jaw between your thumb and pointer, slightly moving his face as you would with a precious gem, arching your back instinctively when he, instead of resisting, remains soft in your hands.

Docile, that man who the next morning would be ready to shoot a bullet directly between your eyes to keep his business clean, is now totally submissive to the touch of a mere prostitute.

You want to kill him.

At least threaten him, make him feel small, but you know you can’t.

You limit yourself to make a slight pressure on the just dug cheeks of the man to force him to open his mouth, then, with one hand, you lift his glass stealing a sip of his stupid and predictable gin.

Rich people have no taste nor imagination.

And when he raises his eyebrows confused, you recline your head, his lips a few millimeters from yours while you spit out the clear liquid in his mouth, rippling in a smile of pure pleasure when the man’s eyelids close slightly and his back stiffens.

Pathetic.

The red of the lights doesn’t stop you from clearly seeing the coins and bills that from time to time he slips at your feet, like a drug addict willing to do anything for a dose. And you, magnanimously, every time kneel down before him, letting him once touch a leg to worship your body, once feel your mouth so close to his skin that you can whisper against it every single sin you committed.

And he, second after second, falls more and more in the arms of a demon.

▶Writober Day 6 “If we ever stop talking send me a song” [Vander]

↠English is not my first language ↠No use of "y/n", gn reader ↠TW: SFW, angst, takes place during the time skip, I had to change a bit the prompt, the song is "our love" from Arcane ↠Character/s: gn reader, Vander, implied Mylo, Claggor, Jinx and Vi ↠wc: 605 words

“Ooh, like Sunday I'll pray our love will always stay pure… Ooh, while the world turns around, he holds me down for sure”

The voice mixes with the wind, the distant squeak of the gears of the elevator that connects Piltover to that place that has now taken the name of Zaun, the roar of the water of the port, the ticking of the rigid soles of the merchants who move back and forth while talking to each other, the noise of puddles that are hit by the feet of some bandit intent on diverting enforcers.

The underground city is breathing.

It seems almost intolerable in your eyes the audacity with which the city is getting back on its feet, as if time had continued to flow undaunted while, for you, the entire universe remained frozen at that night. Your voice cracks slightly, permeated with melancholy.

He promised you that he would always be there, that he would be your shield, that you would grow old together in that filthy world, making each other’s days less miserable. He promised you that you would work together at the inn, where you would dance every night as soon as the heavy door closed. He promised you that you would raise the children he picked up from the street together, like a real family. The same children he had brought with him as if he had not limited himself to death but had erased every single trace of his passage.

And the worst part is that you have no one to blame, not a single scapegoat to whom you can direct all your hatred, your malaise, your frustration. One part of your brain is angry with him, with the great Vander, the underground hound, who was so intent on saving everyone that he failed to save himself, while another part of you screams that you should have been with him that night, That you knew something was wrong, that maybe you couldn’t prevent it, but you could die there, in peace, next to your family.

The throat knot prevents you from finishing the song.

God, you’re so ungrateful.

You should just be happy that you’re still alive, that you’re okay, that they’re in a place that doesn’t smell like a sewer. But you’re selfish.

You miss them, you miss them in such a heartbreaking way that your heart seems to rip in two every single morning when you wake up in a bed suddenly too big, too empty.

You try to suffocate a cry, squeeze yourself between your own arms, squint with so much strength to see the residual image of that place even with your eyes closed, tighten your jaw feeling every single muscle in your neck in tension.

You can’t cry in front of him. He hates to see you cry.

It takes you a bit before trying to recompose, then you clear your voice with your eyelashes still damp, a deep breath, and start singing again with a stony tone your song, the one that you used to keep away from the jukebox because nobody, except you two, could play it.

"Do you remember, Vander? You said that to me. 'If we ever stop talking, I will sing you a song'. And every day..." the words die in your throat. You see your own reflection in the water at the foot of the statue: your eyes are reddened and dug, your lips are pale and chapped. Who knows if he’d be able to love you even now, even seeing you like this. "...every day for 251 days, I’ve come to sing you a song."

▶Writober Day 7 “Drunk enough to say I love you?” [Sevika]

↠English is not my first language ↠No use of "y/n", gn reader ↠TW: NSFW, implied prostitute!reader, ↠Character/s: gn reader, Sevika ↠wc: 658 words

The synthetic light filters through the fabric of the lamps, caressing with certain malice the furniture that decorates the room and, with it, your skin. It is a kind of ritual, the Mass on Saturday evening: every week the woman -a henchman of the most powerful man of Zaun- finishes her shift and religiously comes to the place of worship. She bows her head as soon as she comes in, out of respect, and kisses your knuckles modestly. It’s almost a prayer, she addresses you with the admiration with which you turn to a prominent figure, and thanks you when you accept her invitation.

Every week that amber-skinned woman turns to you, and even if she knows you’ll never deny her anything, -that you’re willing to serve her your body and soul on a silver platter if she asks,- she thanks you for your availability as if she didn’t expect it. You don’t understand if it’s some kind of game, a premise, an introduction that she doesn’t want to change, or if she really believes that one day you will say no to her, but it doesn’t matter. Not now.

Now there are no questions, the mass has begun.

You let your fingers run gently over the woman’s collarbones, in a rhythmic movement that occasionally varies in a slightly longer or shorter path, in a curious, intimate contact. She looks at you from time to time as you sit meekly on her thigh, leaning her chin to the back of your neck to rest a little and allowing a smile to surface on her lips only when she is sure you can’t notice it.

You are alone, two bodies abandoned to lust in a brothel room, accomplices the countless bottles of alcohol now abandoned empty on the floor, a gramophone that wearily continues to moan its notes, the night particularly suitable to be spent basking in melancholy and a few butts off in an ashtray, so full to sob grayish clouds whenever something moves in its vicinity.

You remain in silence almost religiously, the breaths still labored, and the smell of sex fills the air giving it a forbidden aroma, sometimes delicious.

Sevika reaches out to a bottle of Jack Daniel’s left on the bedside table and takes a deep sip before letting a much-suffered "shit" slip away.

"the head hurts" she adds. "I’m fucking drunk"

"How drunk?" you ask, looking at her with an amused look, gently caressing her face as you enjoy her reddened eyes.

"Too drunk" she replies with a face that makes you laugh. You lean forward to kiss her, and she, damned predator, immediately brings a hand to the base of your back, clutching at yourself, eager.

"drunk enough to say I love you?"

She stares at you for a few seconds which seems like an eternity, forbidden, and only after several moments the corners of her lips lift slightly. She kisses you this time, descending to your neck in a ravenous wake, letting the dark lips indulge on your skin, torturing it with the tip of her tongue and teeth. You cling to her, sinking your fingers into her scarred back, overcome by the sudden rush of adrenaline.

"Sevika" you call her name, eyes closed as the woman lays you on the bed, continuing that impetuous run along your body.

"Sevika" her name comes out like a lament as her black hair disappears between your legs. She keeps you by the thighs while calmly letting her tongue, moist and warm, impact your cold skin. She eats you with the grace of a nobleman at a banquet, taking all the time necessary to enjoy your taste thoroughly, to enjoy every inch of you.

And you don’t know exactly how much time she spends with her cheeks clenched between your knees, but when she finally lifts her head, her wet lips shine, making her as beautiful as ever.

"What do you think, does that count?"

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avocate-assia-dazai · 8 months

Text

Day 4: I hate so luch loving you

Author's note: Okay I said I want to get out of my comfort zone? I lied. I think this is a masterpiece. Truly I m proud taking two days for this one and be late for the writober if it s mean writting this. Truly people enjoy. (Don t read the synopsis I swear it s better without it)

Synopsis: Someone you live desapear lefting with a lot of remorses.

Number of words: 2,5k (a bit less, anyway it s so easy to read I swear)

A beautiful autumn day, the air was cool and pleasant. In fact, it wasn't cold, it was a perfect temperature, the trees still had all their leaves filled with warm colors, the sun's rays making everything magical. I looked down at the grass beneath my feet, the sound of dead leaves taking me back to old memories, everything was so beautiful, so soothing. My gaze landed on a leaf falling from a tree, fluttering in the wind, I followed it with my gaze and it fell on the hair of a woman I knew all too well. It was her mother, which reminded me of where I was and made my stomach knot. The contrast of white and orange was so beautiful that I'd lost sight of why I've come.

I knotted my tie and took the deepest breath I could muster, everyone was seated on these magnificent white chairs on the floor, there was this beautifull white archway blending lily flowers and autumn leaves, all paused on this little dais perfect for three. Cutting through this uncluttered setting was an equally clear path, one might have thought it was the way to the promised land.

All this was so much like her, all this was simply her. Autumn was also my favorite season. For it was in this soft, colorful time when nature bows out and gives us a final flourish that she found me just when I thought I'd disappear. A hand on my shoulder, while I was lost in thought. She was leaning over, her face inches from mine. Her smile was so radiant I thought it was summer. I couldn't answer, so she sat down next to me without any shame. Yet in class she was always so transparent that her warm side almost made me believe she was someone else. "Well then, who are you hiding from?

- I'm not hiding."

I replied, almost resentfully at the insinuation that I was running away from something. She almost laughed in my face, her expression telling me "Yeah of course". I should have asked her what she was doing there, maybe she was running away too. We sat for hours on the damp sole while she talked almost to herself, I didn't think you could talk so much to say nothing, let alone someone who looked so self-effacing.

I don't really know how we got there, but I had too much pride to change my hiding place just because she came to it, and she had too much pride to give up. I'd put so much effort into ignoring her that it was laughable, but she never seemed to mind. I'd got to the point where I went there every day at the same hour, and I think she knew it because she was expecting me. I pretended to ignore her, sometimes almost insulting her, but she kept talking, opening up to me as if I were some kind of imaginary friend. At school, she was so quiet and self-effacing that you'd think she'd be shy, but apparently her friends were the problem who make her introvert at school. I don't know how I'd come to take such an interest in her life, but the more violent the arguments at home became, the more I looked forward to that moment in the day when she'd give herself up to me as if I were the only person capable of understanding her impatiently. I don't even know how I came to answer her. In fact, within a few months, winter had set in, and my world began to revolve around her without asking me.

In the mornings, I hurried out early before my parents could start arguing. I was very careful about what I took with me. I always arrived too early, and there she was, in hindsight she must have noticed that I was there early in the morning so she had to do her best not to miss me. She was always slumped over her desk, half-asleep despite the cold, and she always went out so unprepared, without coat or umbrella, I don't think it was possible to be more careless. But those moments when we were alone in the classroom together were the most precious to me. I'd shake her awake and wrap a scarf around her neck, but it wasn't even mine at that point, her hands were still cold and she complained so much about hunger that I got used to bringing her something to eat on the pretext that my mother was forcing me to take it, even though I hated it. I think she knew very well that I was lying, but she was also lying about why she was there so early in the morning. We both lied, and I think the truth is an ugly thing, because if I could lie to her again, I would.

Even during the day I couldn't ignore her, I was always on the lookout for her, listening to her every word. I spent my time waiting for when we'd meet again in that little secluded park, for those false quarrels and confessions no one could hear. Everything was about her, and I hated that. And it didn't take more than a day for this hatred to explode. She'd only been absent for one day at school, but don't get me wrong, she'd never been absent in half a year. Everything seemed so empty without her that I became obsessed with her absence. Spring was here, and just as I was heading home, turning the knob to get through my own hell. Suddenly the budding scent of flowers filled my lungs, the sunset blinded me and somehow I found myself running with all my might. "She's capable of getting lost along the way, falling or even being kidnapped. She's a born idiot", these extreme thoughts betrayed just how I felt. I stood breathless in front of her door, trying to catch my breath as my lungs contracted, my heart pounding, she was there, in front of me, pale but present. An almost mocking smile that made my blood boil: "Heh you can’t ev-. But I didn't let her finish and grabbed her by the shoulders.

- Are you stupid! You could have warned me!"

I don't know by what sorcery, but when I saw her surprised, almost shocked face, I realized how ridiculous I'd been. And the silence that settled in made me die inside. "Ha, but I don’t even have your num-

- Shut up please just, forget it".*

I turned on my heel, ready to leave, and she grabbed my arm, forcing me to stay, our eyes analyzing each other's every emotion. I don't know why this little woman unable to take care of herself hugged me, but I thought I'd never be able to let go. It was too late, without a word, a thousand promises had been saddled. We spent the night together, in the purest, most innocent way, watching a movie, talking about nothing. She was just sick and her parents were out of town. I remember every little moment, where shame gave way to a new feeling warming my heart as I cared for this child far too stubborn to care for herself.

After that evening, I lived the most beautiful years of my life. It was my Garden of Eden. I don't even think I went home anymore, my days at school were spent admiring every curve of her face, every laugh of her melodious voice. Paying attention to every blonde lock that disturbed her in class, watching her eyebrows furrow when she didn't understand an exercise. And I can't think of a more beautiful moment than when she was bored with her friends and her greenish eyes met mine. Nothing could spoil my joy; every discovery was a godsend. She loved sweet things, she adored the cold but was very sensitive to it, she got into everything she came across and said that every blue one was a mark of war. I loved teasing her, ignoring her, kissing her, hugging her, playing with her hair, listening to her talk, helping her, laughing at her, drying her tears.

For me, my high school years were an unstoppable laugh, because as soon as you look at that person, it starts all over again. Yes, my high school years were euphoric, a breath of oxygen in the middle of the ocean. In the summer of my senior year, when I'd already chosen my university, my parents finally divorced and I was forced to follow my father across the country, so I was forced to finish a story I'd loved every chapter of and open another book. But Lucie wasn't just another first love. She was the woman of my life. For five years, every thought in my head was devoted to her, and the mere memory of her smile or that little frown she was so good at was enough to make me climb any mountain. I had only one idea in mind, the promise of our farewell, that it wouldn't be one, that of becoming a man good enough to marry her. I worked so hard for it, and when I came back she was there, she hadn't changed, she was still the woman I loved.

The applause as the little girl carefully walked along, throwing autumn leaves in place of the traditional flower petals, woke me from my nostalgia. She was so cute and seemed so proud of herself, she could be. She pulled up with the bridesmaids to the side, and moments later, there she was. The woman who made my world go round arrived. Her hair had been cut for the occasion, that golden blond highlighted by the wreath of flowers she wore. She seemed so focused, it was laughable as always, she could have fallen over at that moment and I wouldn't have been surprised. She seemed nervous, as she was, fiddling with her little finger discreetly, a habit she's had since childhood. She moved forward with angelic steps, positioned herself on the dais and tried to smile naturally. The man from the town hall began to recite his best wishes as the rings were exchanged. She'd always been petite, and her fingers were just as delicate as she was. How could you not love every part of this woman?

The final sentence was spoken: "If anyone wishes to oppose this union, let him say so or forever hold his peace.” And as the traditional silence paused, our eyes met. I swear on everything I hold dear that her eyes filled with tears for a brief moment, begging me to get up from my chair and oppose her, not to let her go. My nails dug into my palms, and I held on to this contact that seemed like an eternity, so much left unsaid. Pardon. I'm sorry because I thought about getting up and calling it a day. What did this man have that I didn't, what did he know about her? Did he love her even half as much as I did? Did all these people here even know who I was, did they know how much I loved this woman, that the last eight years were devoted to her, did they even know what pure, true love like ours was?

Sitting around her coffee table, I could feel the anxiety rising in me, I could hardly contain my joy. She returned with a bottle of wine and sat down beside me, serving us both a glass. I admired her, every moment was dedicated to her. After five long years I could look at her again, I never thought the mere sight of her would make me melt so simply. And as usual, after a long silence and a few sips of wine, she began to talk, telling me about her life without me since our separation, she never thought she'd see me again. And I hadn't noticed that she was talking, not because she was a tireless piplette, but because she was beating around the bush. It wasn't until the morning after I'd spent the night with her, wrapping my arm around her waist, that tears began to flow. I innocently thought they were tears of joy. I gently took her wrists between my hands to move them away from her face, before carefully running my thumbs over her cheeks, brushing her eyelashes to wipe away any trace of moisture from that face I'd grown so fond of. Nothing destroyed me more than when she told me she was supposed to get married in just a few days. Nothing was as painful, as hard as this confession. My world destroyed beneath my feet as I ran away from her to think. How could pain be so poignant, how could my heart hurt so much, I wished it could be ripped out of me as quickly as possible, that a car would run me over, that God would make me disappear. I was in so much pain, suddenly so alone, that I banged my head against the wall for hours trying to make the pain go away. But no, nothing could be as painful. Nothing could compare, and if anyone reads this and has the slightest shred of humanity, they'll come and kill me to shorten my agony.

She exchanged this kiss with the man with whom she'd built her life, and a tear rolled down her cheek, only we knew it wasn't one of joy. I left without a word. I wanted to tell her I'd wait for her all my life, that I'd always be somewhere, ready to be the one to take care of her. But I said nothing. Because I knew that if I said a single word, I'd always have hope that she'd come and find me. And she'd always have that doubt that she could throw it all out the window because I'd be there. I told myself that I had to consider her dead so that each of us could live. But even in death I still cherish every painful memory, and I've never loved her as much as I do now.

Second author's note: honestly I wish you ve enjoyed. Every little comment will make my heart bump since i work so hard on it. I just wish it s at your taste~

#writober2023 #writterscommunity #writers and poets #writing inspiration #art #dark academia #my writing #writeblr #writing #angst #lovers #love quotes #please i work so hard on it #hope you enjoy #new writter #writters on tumblr

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allenbloom · 7 months

Text

Day 28: Nascondere / Hide

“Did you really have to come all the way?” The shorter boy asked the taller once they were out of sight, talking to each other in the backyard.

“Do you not want to see me?” the taller asked with a laugh at the end.

“No! It’s just…” the shorter said, with a pause, looking to the side for a moment before facing the taller man, “You’re studying really hard at the city, I don’t want to bother you”

“It’s not a bother if it’s my little brother” said the taller, “besides, when was the last time you had any guests to a birthday party?” the shorter one looked down and the taller quickly added, “It's rhetorical”

“I know” the younger sighed, “you’re right, it's just, I hope you do well on your tests once you’re back”

“Sure I will” the older reassured.

The creature watching them through the bushes moved slightly after taking a deeper breath, and the rustling of the leaves caught the attention of both people. The shorter one sighed, while the taller one kept himself on edge, “Did you hear that?” he asked. The shorter replied under his breath something along the lines “must be hiding in the bush”.

“Don’t let them distract you” the shorter said, “let’s go back inside”

“Them?” The taller asked as he followed the shorter inside.

If you liked what you read, feel free to check out the rest of the writober promps, and if you're feeling generous please consider supporting me on my ko-fi

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ramblinganthropologist · 7 months

Text

Writober 2023 22 - Scratchy

Summary: After endless years of waiting, Alistair Shepard wakes up to the scratchy feeling he's been waiting for. Fucking finally.

---

Beep beep beep…

Ugh…

Alistair’s hand shot out from under his blanket to where his omni-tool was resting on his bedside table. Once it smacked down, the sounds stopped. However, he was now awake, and that was a tragedy as he rolled onto his side to try and block out the sun.

Could he skip class?

…

No, he couldn’t.

With a yawn, Alistair sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. It was sometime after 7 AM, and his classes started at 9. That gave him time to shuffle around his apartment and warm up his prosthetics for a long day of sitting on his ass and taking notes, which he needed. Nobody wanted stiff prosthetics in the middle of a long lecture.

Weird how he used to run around in armor and shoot things… but no, sitting in class was a whole other level of difficulty.

It took him a few minutes to wake up enough to stand. Still yawning, he made his way to the bathroom to shower and start his day. The nice thing about no longer being on a military ship was that the water was hot. That alone made him glad he retired, apart from the whole not having to shoot people thing. That was a nice bonus too.

“Ugh… what classes do I have today?” The hot water massaged his sore muscles as he stood there under the hot water, trying to wake up his brain. “I think I have anatomy lab… great…”

His body was already sore at the thought, but it didn’t matter. If he had wanted an easy retirement, then he shouldn’t have signed up for med school when he could stand. This was his burden to bear, so all he cold do was grin and grind through it.

At least he wasn’t being shot at anymore. He could not emphasize enough how much he enjoyed not getting shot at anymore. It was like the top five things that came from retirement if he was going to be completely honest.

Eventually, he got out of the shower and started to dry off. The hot water had done wonders to loosen up his stiff, battle-abused muscles, to the point he could survive his day of classes and labs. Maybe he wouldn’t even need to stretch during his lunch break…

…

One could hope, but no doubt he would probably have to jog around campus to loosen up after a morning of sitting.

“Oh well…” He sighed as he passed the towel over his face to dry it off. However, Alistair paused mid-dry, blinking in surprise. Something felt… off… when he tried to dry off his skin. It almost felt like it was catching on something.

Confused, Alistair dropped the tower and reached up to feel at his face. This brought another blink of surprise – there was something scratchy and rough covering his chin. His heart skipped a beat as he sprinted to the mirror, wiping it off with his human hand to clear it up.

A man with shower-reddened skin and mussed hair stared back at him, eyes wide. At first, he didn’t notice it, but then he began to pick out the details. There was red on his face, and it wasn’t because he had turned the shower up too high for his skin.

That… he was pretty sure that was stubble.

“Holy shit.” Alistair’s voice caught and cracked as the realization fell into place. Theoretically, he should’ve known this day would come. The doctor had told him that things like voice deepening and body hair growth would begin after some time on testosterone.

His body had been growing more hair – thanks, Dad, for those lovely genes – but his face hadn’t been part of that. Yet, there was the proof he needed as he rubbed his hand across his cheek. It was scratchy and coated in ginger stubble that could one day turn into a beard if he left it alone long enough.

It was finally happening.

In that moment, Alistair could only grin as he stared into the mirror. No doubt he looked ridiculous – his stubble was kind of patchy if he was going to be honest – but he didn’t care. It was proof the testosterone was finally working.

He had to show Bo.

---

Nights on Rannoch were cold, but it made sense – it was a desert planet.

Bo yawned as she stretched out after a long day of knocking heads together. She was glad to be home, curled up on the couch under a blanket as she waited for Tali to get home. She’d probably be home late again – being an admiral was busy work, even though the fleet had a home base now. With any luck, she’d come in by midnight.

She was such a hard worker… it was kind of sexy.

“Wonder if anything’s on TV…” Bo wasn’t a huge fan of quarian TV, which is why she had asked her brother to hack her omni-tool to get her stuff from the Citadel. Her screen might have been cracked, but it functioned. “Hell, I’ll take Forensic Files VII at this point.”

Lucky for her, FFVII was always available nearly anywhere in the galaxy. She was about to click on, but a message appeared on her screen that came from Earth. There was only one person she knew who lived there – and who often forgot the time difference.

“Is this another picture of Saren? Hope he bit something cool.” Bo clicked into the message. The photo took some time to download, but soon she had it projected on the screen of her omni-tool. “What the…”

It wasn’t a picture of a hamster. Instead, her brother was in front of the mirror taking a selfie like an early 21st century teenager. Hell, he was even holding up a peace sign as he beamed into the camera. Conveniently, he had forgotten to put his shirt on…

God, he was such a hipster.

“Doesn’t he have class to get…” Bo’s eyebrow cocked as she really looked at the photo. “Wait a second…”

She zoomed in, blinking in surprise. At first she hadn’t noticed it, but… her brother was looking kind of hairy. His chest had taken the brunt of it, but his face wasn’t far behind. There was a patch of stubble there, bright red and making him look like he had gotten sunburnt.

Also, he was finally developing an Adam’s apple.

“Somebody got hit by the puberty train.” Bo shook her head, a faint grin on her face as she typed out a brief message – nice peach fuzz, put a damn shirt on or save those kinds of pics for Mandibles - before sending. Then she settled back in on the couch to continue watching FF7. Maybe this time it wouldn’t be the husband…

Nah. It was always the husband.

---

Alistair was in a great mood to say the least as he finished getting ready for class. Since he didn’t own a razor, the stubble was staying on his face for the time being until he could deal with it. Maybe he would try growing a beard if it evened out… the possibilities were endless.

Who knew a bit of facial hair could lift his spirits about anatomy lab?

Before he left, a buzzing on his wrist told him Bo had gotten the picture. She had even sent him a message back, one that made him chuckle as he read it over. Maybe he should have put a shirt on first, but could you blame him? He had been excited.

“I’ll be more careful next time.” His voice cracked a little as he spoke – but even he could hear the shift was beginning. Before long it would settle into his new range and he wouldn’t sound like a teenager anymore. That too put a spring into his step as he locked the door to his apartment and set out for class.

It was a beautiful day, and he was starting to finally grow facial hair. Not even anatomy lab could get him down.

…

Ok, maybe it could a little… but he was still pretty happy. Maybe after class he could send Garrus a picture. His fiancé should see the progress, right?

#writober 2023 #ramblinganthropologist's writing #Alistair Shepard

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lumineescente · 5 months

Note

hi! 2, 11, 15, and 23 for the fanfic asks! <3

ooh!! hello! thank you so much for this<3

2. how many fics did you work on this year? (they don't have to be finished or published) 7 published fics (one was two chapters from my multi chaptered fic!), and I've worked on at least 10 wips that will maybe or maybe not see the light one day! plus there was the drabbles I wrote during writober on my twitter account!

11. what fic was the most satisfying to finish writing? this fic (milcob/tbz) because i wrote it during a very stressful time for me at that moment and i could not sleep at all because of that... i had so much in my head and this fic was so cathartic to write and when i finished it I was so proud of myself, it's one of the rare fic i read again and again. But writing it took a bit of my soul tbh lmaoo so i felt so relieved when i ended it

anyway i love this fic congrats June me!

15. rec a fic you wrote or posted in 2023 the fic i just mentioned is a good rec but i'll allow myself and rec another one! it is a minsung that i wrote early during the year and it was an idea i had in my draft for years, so it was soo nice to write it entirely and i think it came out very good and interesting!

23. share the final version of a sentence or paragraph you struggled with. What about it was challenging? Are you happy with how it turned out? i'm not gonna share it entirely because it's a very long scene but the beginning of fourth scene when they're having their first date in the restaurant in that milcob fic (i can't remember my fics titles.. so yeah) was extremely challenging, i found it too cliché and like something was off in the rhythm. Or that it was not believable, and with this fic I wanted to challenge realism as much as possible so this scene made me frown a lot while writing. I thought about cutting it out but at the same time there was something meaningful to me to write about what it is when you are a privileged person and you never had to put yourself into the shoe of someone else so you think the way you live is the norm for everyone else. If you don't trigger it the questioning will not happen by itself.

I kept the scene, keep reading it again and again until I liked it. My friend reading it also helped me because they found nothing wrong with it so I think I had been overthinking it a bit too much! And I adoore the way I ended the scene tho :)

thank you for the ask it was so fun to answer it and reflect on my writing year<3

#ask

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happyely2 · 8 months

Text

Pairing: Portuguese D. Ace x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+ | The rating will be red this time, so if you are a minor skip this reading or highlight your age in your bio.| sex scenes, cuddles, and much more very explicit.

Summary: 31 prompts for 31 days of October. Life on Moby Dick is always hectic and has become more so since Ace boarded this ship and became part of the family.

✒️Prompts taken from the contest (even if I don't participate) organized by the Italian Fanwriter page. I only translated the prompts into English, I hope you like it.✒️

🌊Writober PumpSea🌊 #day 6 - Saltiness

The island you found was desolate.

A desolate paradise just for you.

It took a couple of days of sailing with the medium of Ace and so much coffee to keep him awake, but in the end you managed to get to the island where you would have spent a couple of days just for you. You only talked to WhiteBeard about it, showing him that you had come into possession of a Loge Pose and a map during one of your last raids on an opposing ship.

And the old man gave you permission to go and explore the island in question, and he also told you to call every once in a while so that everyone would not worry.

So you left, backpacks and supplies for the journey and at dawn you were already at sea.

"Ace look at that crystal clear water!" You said by taking off your sandals and dipping them in the water while the Strider slowed down, you had found a natural inlet that created a sort of open-air cave and a small white sandy beach waiting for you.

According to the map that was the only point through which you could access the island or you had to climb a rocky wall and walk around the rocks.

"We gotta anchor the Strider, be careful, all right?" Ace said stroking your hair and then taking a top to throw on the rocks next to it to tow it to shore.

You nodded, you took off your clothes, and you stayed in your bathing suit, you took Ace’s dagger, and then you dived into the water, it was pretty deep, and the bottom was full of corals and fish that you didn’t seem to mind.

You went deeper to catch some fish and start exploring the surroundings to understand the map directions.

You stayed underwater until the Strider’s shadow disappeared, and only then did you decide to surface with the small loot you had procured.

"So what?" Ace was on the beach, had already set a fire and with fallen trees he had created benches on which to sit and had begun to prepare the tent.

"Look, I caught a lot of fish!" you said by showing him your loot and he laughed and left a kiss on your cheek.

"I’ll start cooking them, it’ll take a while if you want to take another bath you can." He said as a snap of his fingers lit the fire. You nodded and went back into the water, using the rocks to dive in and start looking for other useful information. The bottom was full of sand, with rocks and corals at least five meters high, swimming in it was quite easy and even the passages themselves were very easy. There didn’t seem to be any dangerous predators.

A good yellowfin fish walked by and started following them.

It was better to stock them up because you had travelled light.

You went out a couple of hours later from the water, Ace had dedicated himself to cleaning the fish and had him cooking on the fire, he had also been so careful to take off the bone.

You hung the rest of your loot on a branch so as not to put it on the ground and you lay down on the tablecloth that one guy had prepared for you to dry in the sun.

A hand on your back made you smile, Ace had sat next to you, with food ready, two giant bowls of rice and fish in hand.

You tied your wet hair and sat next to Ace to enjoy the shade and the light sea breeze that he had taken to blow.

"How was the water?"

"Beautiful, you don’t know how many corals I’ve seen of different colors." You responded by leaning on him and eating your meal: "No predators, no small sharks, no moray eels, or they’re somewhere else or I don’t know." You said biting your meal.

Ace laughed and after a while he took the map you brought.

"At least that makes things easier for us. The treasure should be here, sorry to make you do all the work." He said Ace by finishing his meal and placing the bowl on a rock near you and carefully observing the designs and directions that were present on the parchment.

"Don’t worry Honey, sometimes it’s right that I do something too, usually you do everything." You kissed him on the shoulder and Ace grinned and lay down with you in the afternoon sun to get some rest.

You have fallen asleep close to each other with the background noise of the sea.

Until the Lumacofano started playing insistently and made you wake up suddenly, Ace took him and the calm and calm voice of Marco interrupted the silence that had been created.

"We’re fine, we were resting." Ace said with his voice still sleepy. The sun was still high in the sky, you hadn’t slept too much.

"Better yet, do you have any news?"

"We found the spot indicated by the map, but as we suspected there are no caves on the surface, they will be underground, it will take a while to catch the treasure." You said while you stretched your legs and arms.

Before you started and before you podevate enjoy your short vacation.

"All right, let us know if you need anything, I should be able to find it in a short time and I recommend that you hear." He reiterated Marco closing the conversation.

"Still with this story they know very well that if we don’t call everything is fine." He said Ace putting the Slug back in his place and then taking his hat from the rock in which he had laid it.

"Do you want to start seeing where the treasure is?" He asked you as he saw you were tying a waterproof bag to your waist.

"Yes, I want to use the light before the sun goes down." You answered by turning to him and smiling at him.

Ace nodded and handed you his knife, just in case it was always better to be prepared he told you, despite the absence of predators did not trust to let you swim not without protection.

"You see that rock there in the middle, it swims immediately in that direction and you notice something strange, I’ll come and get you right away." Ace said by snapping a loud kiss on your cheek.

You nodded and went into the water.

Your exploration lasted literally until sunset and was really very profitable. The currents were not strong and the crystal clear water had allowed you to find the chest immediately, along with everything that was on the bottom.

It was a great haul. Ace helped you get him out of the water by exploiting the rocks that emerged from the sea and before the sun went down you had almost everything.

"Tomorrow we will organize the space on the Strider for tonight we can rest." He said taking your life and taking you for a ride in mid-air.

You laughed happy, for once a mission proceeded smoothly. It was too good to be true.

The camp was ready, dinner was ready, and the inventory of what you found had already been made by Ace as you brought something back to the gala.

You wore a perforated sundress and you enjoyed the evening with Ace, he asked you every detail of the bottom, the fish you saw and many other things.

Ace a little envied you, having eaten a fruit of the devil could not stay with you in salt water.

It was a shame because he would have liked to take long swims with you to explore the seabed.

"Ace... will you help me get the salt out of my body?" You whispered in his ear resting for a moment your lips on the lobe and then withdrawing almost immediately and melting the sundress that you had put on your self.

Ace envied you a little bit, but he always liked it when you asked him to help you get rid of salt in your body.

"With pleasure my love." said your man approaching you and holding you close to him. Ace wasted no time searching for your lips, he bitten them urgently and licked them immediately after.

She took advantage when you hatched her to better deepen the kiss, Ace made you taste the salt that was deposited on your body.

You scratched his hips and Ace sighed inside your kiss when you started tinkering with his belt.

But first he had to get the salt out of your body.

Ace has abandoned your lips, descending down your neck and savoring every inch with his burning tongue. You have arched your back to feel it closer to Ace has harpooned your butt with his warm hands to pick you up and lift you and brought you near a rock to make you sit.

A thrill descended down your spine in contact with the cold rock, but Ace’s warm tongue warmed you up right away. Your top piece had flown away and now it lay on the white sand as Ace’s mouth moved greedily over your breast.

Ace was licking, biting, sucking hard, and nippling you, making you scream with pleasure, and you were alone and you could afford it.

"What a hungry sailor." You whispered to him, clutching his hair and pulling a little when Ace bit his nipple hard.

"Ahhh..." You groaned your legs, looking for some satisfaction.

"Yes I am a very hungry sailor." He told you by licking the other nipple and taking them both together, starting to caress them and bite them with his teeth.

You screamed again for pleasure and Ace enjoyed every single groan that came out of your lips.

He loved taking you to the edge.

He continued his descent of kisses on your belly, biting and scratching the skin near your navel and then quickly removed the piece from under your costume, noting with pleasure the stain that had formed on it.

"Someone here needs to be properly controlled." He said as he knelt on the sand and used the height of the rock to be able to admire you better.

"Acee..." You tried calling him, but your voice died in your throat when his tongue crept in. You arched your back again as Ace’s hand came back to tighten your nipple and the other one held your leg still.

"Shhh Love, let me take this salt off you." He whispered to you, got back inside you and made you scream at too much stimulation.

Her fingers had penetrated you, middle and index fingers, as her tongue made circles around your clitoris and tapped it just enough to make you wince and moan loudly. You had tears in your eyes from how much it was stimulating you.

And you felt like you were reaching the limit.

You tried to stop him, to get up, but his hands stopped you, he tightened your thighs tighter and intensified your tongue movements.

"Aceee... I.... I come..." You said arching your back and seeing for a moment the stars closest to you. And Ace didn’t walk away, but he ate all of you.

"So good just for me." He told you by kissing your lower belly and slowly going up to your lips and then catching them in a needy kiss

You held it to yourself, making your breast adhere to her chest and feeling the thrill of her cool red pearls in contact with your warm skin.

You heard a rustle of clothes, Ace’s boots flying somewhere and then his presence pounding on your lower abdomen.

You have moved the hips of instinct and you have widened a little more the legs and Ace entered inside your pussy with one and only push, going to hit your sensitive point.

"I found a treasure." He whispered in your ear, made you blush and started pumping inside you.

"Perhaps I’d have a bigger reward if you behave yourself sailor." You answered him kissing him again urgently. And Ace went crazy and started pushing harder into you.

One thrust, two spines, three thrusts and you screamed with pleasure when Ace hit that spot again, it didn’t give you time to recover that it kept pumping all its length inside you.

You could feel your walls tightening tightly to his cock and getting wetter and wetter as he kept hitting incessantly and nonstop.

"Love..." A whisper, a poorly restrained groan and a silent request.

You nodded and kissed him again and allowed him to pour into you.

You both came, collapsing on the cold rock and panting, but happy.

Ace picked you up once he got out of you and brought you by the fire. You curled up on him and listened to his heartbeat.

"We should do this more often." he said while playing with your locks of hair.

"What?" you asked leaving a kiss on his chest.

"Look for underwater treasures." He responded by rekindling the fire with his power.

"Maybe next time you could be the sailor who stole the mermaid’s tail." You said already imagining the situation.

"Ohhh... and what would this mermaid do to get her tail back." Ace bit your neck, and you sighed at his hand, and it was creeping back into you.

"Ahhh... I think he could do anything Love." You kissed him back.

"It took you three whole days to recover all this stuff?" Satch looked at you puzzled. I mean, it was a nice haul, but generally it would have taken less.

"How much sun did you take?" asked Marco noting your tanned skin and the fact that there was no sign of the costume.

Izo laughed, or if he laughed relishing the scene of your interrogation. Marco and Satch didn’t want to admit the evidence, and White Beard also laughed with him.

"Three days? What did you do?"

You turned red to remember the days you spent sunbathing and making love to Ace on the beach.

"Come on, Satch, any self-respecting pirate is very careful to make sure he’s got all the treasure." Ace’s hand had rested on your back, even though it was next to you you could feel the grin that had appeared on his face perfectly.

Oh he took all the treasure.

"What’s wrong with our little sister?" Izo approached you, seeing you red as a pepper: "Too strong a heat stroke?" He winked at you while you took his cheeks to pinch him and Ace laughed.

"These two will drive us crazy Marco." Satch enjoyed the scene alongside Marco and the Fenice nodded.

You really were the worst generation, you and Ace.

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